To Fight with Honor
Title: To Fight with Honor
Pairing: Chen/Suho
Rating: PG-13
Length: 17,857
Genre: knight!AU, romance
Summary: Jongdae is a dashing jousting champion set on winning his next tournament in the Kingdom of Kims. There, he meets Prince Junmyeon, and makes a bet with him that threatens to make Jongdae’s life a bit more exciting than he’d expected.
For krishoislove, originally posted here (chenpionships)
Birds are chirping brightly as they wheel overhead-dark dots framed by blue sky and warm yellow sun. A perfect day for a journey, Jongdae thinks to himself. The weather is beautiful, he’s wearing his most comfortable, forest green tunic, and everything is going smoothly.
“Why is the sun so bright?” Jongin grumbles from beside him, gripping his reins too tightly as he squints angrily at the horizon. Jongdae rolls his eyes. This is what he gets for offering to bring his cousin with him to the tournament. Jongin’s just come of age for competing, and the combination of nerves and sleep deprivation from excessive practicing has made him a little grumpy. Just a little.
“Oh, come on, whining isn’t very noble,” a loud voice says, and Jongdae snickers when Jongin gives Chanyeol a very dark look as he rides up next to them.
“Not that you’d know anything about being noble,” Jongin shoots back, eyes narrowing even more when Chanyeol just laughs, shaking off the insult like a dog shaking off water.
“Now, now, Jongin, play nice,” Jongdae admonishes in a mock-serious tone. Jongin pouts at him before curling forward as much as his current position will allow and letting himself be propelled forward at whatever speed the horse wants to go. Sloppy horsemanship, Jongdae thinks to himself. If there’s one thing he’s learned from several years of competing, it’s that you always want to be confident that your horse will do exactly what you want. Not that Jongdae’s ever really had that kind of confidence in his horse. Baekhyun has always been a bit of a handful. But there’s nothing Jongdae enjoys more than a good challenge, so when the trainer had told him that Baekhyun was absolutely impossible, Jongdae had purchased him on the spot.
As if sensing that he’s being mentally abused, Baekhyun snorts and shifts unexpectedly beneath him, swaying so far sideways he almost runs into Chanyeol.
“Whoa, there!” Chanyeol laughs, yanking his horse sideways just in time to avoid a collision. “I thought you said you had finally gotten that horse under control?”
“It’s a work in progress,” Jongdae grumbles, feeling vaguely Jongin-like wisps of frustration rise to the surface as he glares down at Baekhyun’s dark mane. Of course his horse would act perfectly obedient until there are other people around. He straightens the collar of his shirt, hoping that all the dust Baekhyun’s hooves are raising doesn’t ruin it. There are a few things in the world that annoy Jongdae more than a soiled outfit-Chanyeol’s attempts at dancing come to mind-but not many.
“How much longer until we get there?” Jongin asks suddenly, unfolding his body enough to cast a pitiful glance in Jongdae’s direction. “I never realized the Kingdom was so big! If we don’t reach this castle soon, I might actually die.”
“Of what, excessive complaining? I’m fairly sure that’s not terminal,” Jongdae replies sweetly. Jongin jerks his horse threateningly to the right but Baekhyun shies neatly out of the way before Jongdae even has the chance to lift a finger. So maybe Baekhyun isn’t a totally useless animal.
“We should get there today,” Chanyeol says consolingly, gesturing towards the slowly growing black dot on the horizon. “But be patient, we’ve only been traveling for a few days! You should have been with us when Jongdae had to compete in the Kingdom of Chois, that was a trip!”
“Not to mention the fact that once we finally got there I made it all the way to the final round only to lose to that tall freak with the condescending nickname and the oddly deep voice,” Jongdae sighs, grimacing at the memory.
“He wasn’t that tall,” Chanyeol sniffs, and Jongdae glares at him as Jongin chuckles appreciatively. “Shorter than me. But at least you didn’t have to go up against his cousin who was even taller-that Minho guy. And his sister was pretty cute.”
“People like Choi Jinri do not fall for loud, clumsy knights like you, Park Chanyeol,” Jongdae reminds him, but Chanyeol just smiles.
“So you say, but one day…I’ll get my chance with some royal lady,” Chanyeol says. Jongin pretends to gag in disgust and everyone ignores him.
“Yeah, and someday I’ll get a competition name at least as annoying as ‘TOP,’” Jongdae snorts. “But that doesn’t mean either of those days will end particularly well for anyone.”
“Is it lunchtime yet?” Jongin asks tentatively, as a cloud slips across the sky and throws the woods they’re preparing to enter into moody darkness. Jongdae sighs long-sufferingly.
“I suppose this is what I get for traveling with children,” he says to Chanyeol, who snickers. Jongin yells “Hey!” but they both ignore him in favor of spurring their horses forward, forcing Jongin to move as well to keep up.
“I’m just one year younger than you!” Jongin protests over the steady drumbeat of hooves against hard earth. “I’m not a child.”
“If you’re good, when we stop for lunch in an hour I’ll give you an apple,” Jongdae grins, leaving Jongin’s disgruntled griping behind him as he urges Baekhyun even faster. This command-the one to leap forward, spring headlong into action-is one Baekhyun has never had trouble following. Jongdae sometimes wonders if that’s a problem. But horses are unfathomable creatures-almost as unfathomable as humans, Jongdae sometimes thinks-so he doesn’t worry about it too much.
What he should really be worrying about is this upcoming competition. The winner advances to the inter-Kingdom competition, and Jongdae really thinks he has a shot at it this year. Sure, in the year since the last big competition, he’s gained a reputation for being a terror in the ring-a dashingly handsome force to be reckoned with, Jongdae likes to think. But winning this tournament would prove once and for all that he’s worth something. This year he’ll show up everyone who said he was too small to compete, who said he should leave the jousting to bigger, stronger knights. He can’t wait.
“Our fourth match tomorrow will feature a newcomer versus one of our oldest competitors!” the squire standing in the middle of the ring shouts, bright red-and-yellow outfit somehow seeming to augment his already loud voice. At Jongdae’s side, Jongin turns to him with a terrified look on his face.
“Sir Kai…versus Sir Xiumin!” the squire continues, grinning broadly as the crowd below them roars appreciatively. It’s been a while since Jongdae’s competed in this particular stadium but it’s definitely one of the most well-kept. The spectating benches are made of some light, smoothly sanded wood, and there’s plenty of standing room down by the fence lining the ring. Jongdae supposes it makes sense that this stadium is so fancy and clean-it belongs to the crown prince, after all, and no doubt he’ll accept nothing but the best.
“Don’t worry, Minseok knows what he’s doing, he won’t hurt you if he can help it,” Jongdae whispers encouragingly, a bit worried by how quickly the blood is draining from Jongin’s face. Honestly, of all the potential competitors, Minseok is probably one of the least threatening for Jongin to have to face in his first-ever match. At least he wasn’t paired with Heechul, that absolute menace, or Ryeowook, who Jongdae knows looks sweet but can be frighteningly focused and has unhorsed some of the kingdom’s fiercest knights.
“And now our final competitors-two of the Kingdom’s noblest and most loyal knights,” the squire is saying when Jongdae finally turns his attention back to the announcements.
“Wait, did I miss my name?” Jongdae asks in confusion, but Jongin just shrugs, fingers still twisted tightly in his lap.
“Sir Chen…and Sir Key!” the squire finishes, rolling up his scroll and slapping imaginary dust off his hands. Jongdae knows the dust must be imaginary because only a fool would allow silk that brightly colored and obviously well-made to get dirty.
The screams from the crowd begin to quiet as people start filing out of the stadium. Jongdae can see coins already being slipped surreptitiously from hand to hand as the first wave of betting begins. There will be many more, with people placing bets right up until the horses start to charge, and Jongdae just hopes the money’s on him. He’s beaten Kibum several times before-he looks more threatening in the ring than he actually is, and Jongdae actually quite likes spending time with him-but that just means he has to look ahead and try to guess who his next competitor will be.
“Wow, didn’t know you were one of the Kingdom’s most noble knights,” Chanyeol yells when he finally fights his way through the crowd to latch onto Jongdae’s shoulder. “You keep this up and the marriage proposals are going to be pouring in the second this tournament is over.”
“Ha ha ha,” Jongdae laughs sarcastically, though the words make his stomach twist uncomfortably. His parents have been bothering him about getting married with increasing regularity, and he’s getting tired of repeating over and over again that he doesn’t have any intention of settling down yet. The last thing he wants is to walk out of this tournament with a blushing, and incredibly boring, bride.
“Did we have any plans for the rest of the afternoon?” Jongin asks, materializing at Jongdae’s elbow. “Because if not I might have to go lie down. Permanently.”
“Man up, you big baby,” Jongdae laughs, though he slings an arm around Jongin’s shoulders comfortingly. Jongin may be taller than him now, but that doesn’t mean Jongdae feels any less of a desire to protect his little cousin from the big, bad world. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll talk to Minseok and ask him not to break any bones.”
“No!” Jongin shrieks, before clearing his throat and eyeing the people milling around them to make sure no one heard. “No, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right. I don’t want…I can’t…I don’t want people to think I can’t handle it.”
“Well, it’s up to you,” Jongdae says slowly, wondering if Baekhyun’s already been brushed down or if the grooms will let him do it. Sometimes they refuse, saying it isn’t right for a knight to have to care for his horse himself, but most of the time they indulge Jongdae’s little eccentricities. “Just be back in time for the banquet later tonight. You’re a big deal, you know. Everyone loves young competitors, especially ones who are handsome and mysterious.”
“Shut up,” Jongin pouts, but as he ducks out from under Jongdae’s arm and disappears into the crowd Jongdae can see that he’s blushing slightly, a pleased smile spreading across his face. Jongdae grins in satisfaction, letting the crowd carry him away from the arena and towards the castle gates.
“You’re going to talk to Minseok anyway,” Chanyeol says knowingly, tossing his own arm over Jongdae’s shoulders. Jongdae would normally shove him away but today he decides to be generous. Chanyeol did have to deal with Jongin’s oh-so-pleasant manners for several days, after all. That deserves some kind of award.
“Of course I am,” Jongdae sniffs. “Who do you think I am? Not to mention that if I return the kid with anything more than a few bruises his parents will have my head.”
“They are a little overprotective, huh?” Chanyeol says musingly, lips turning upwards at the memory. “Like that time when you managed to steal the key to your parent’s wine cellar from the steward and-”
“I thought,” Jongdae says loudly, cutting across Chanyeol’s excited chatter, “that we agreed never to speak of that again. Now help me find out where they’ve taken Baekhyun, this place is so enormous I’d probably get lost trying to find the stable by myself.”
“Right, right, of course Your Highness,” Chanyeol jokes, spinning Jongdae around and steering them both towards a set of low buildings clinging to the edges of the castle walls.
The instant they step inside Jongdae breathes in deeply, reveling in the smell of dust and hay and horse-musty, but pleasant all the same. A groom scurries up to them, an empty bucket clutched in his fist, and starts bowing so frequently he can barely get words out.
“Is there anything you require, sire?” he asks with another deep bow, shooting Chanyeol a look before focusing his eyes back on Jongdae. “Would you like us to prepare your steed for you? Or perhaps you wish to make sure he’s being stabled to your satisfaction?”
“Oh, I’m sure you have everything under control,” Jongdae replies hurriedly, suppressing the urge to reach out and drag the boy upright so he’ll stop bowing. Such physical expressions of annoyance are generally frowned upon, as Jongdae has unfortunately found out in past years. “I was just wondering if I could see my horse, to make sure he’s recovering well from the journey.”
“Of course, of course, sir!” the boy huffs, before turning and leading the way towards the back of the stable. Jongdae spares a moment to be impressed that he knows exactly which horse belongs to Jongdae, before the boy is opening the stall door and rushing away. Chanyeol stares after him with a bemused smile.
“He certainly was eager to please, wasn’t he?” Chanyeol says thoughtfully, shooting Jongdae a sly grin that Jongdae easily returns.
“Well, that’s what happens when you’re known throughout the kingdom for your nobility and bravery, I suppose,” Jongdae sighs, looking down to examine his fingernails. This is probably why he misses Chanyeol reaching up an arm to slap him good-naturedly on the back, and also why he jerks forward at the unexpected motion and ends up falling hard against Baekhyun’s left flank. Baekhyun snorts roughly and takes a few steps backwards-as far as he can in the confined space-giving Jongdae a look almost as amused as Chanyeol’s when Jongdae falls face-first into the straw covering the floor.
“I hate everything. Especially you,” Jongdae moans, voice muffled by the straw and Chanyeol’s loud laughter as he steps forward and rubs Baekhyun’s nose affectionately.
“A horse after my own heart,” Chanyeol hums appreciatively, continuing to stroke Baekhyun’s warm neck as Jongdae picks himself up and grumpily brushes hay off of his crisp blue shirt. It’s one of his favorites-he saves it especially for events like tournaments and balls-so those mud spots better come off or he’ll kill Chanyeol. With fire. Preferably.
“Well, I’m going to go ride Baekhyun for a while. Be back later,” Jongdae says, suddenly deciding that he’d rather spend the hours before the banquet exploring the bluffs they’d ridden through this morning than talking to stuffy people in stuffy castle rooms.
“You know,” Chanyeol observes, “most people don’t give their horses human names. They call them things like ‘Moonlight’ or ‘Black Pearl’ or ‘Thunder.’”
“But those names are so boring!” Jongdae whines, reaching up and grabbing Baekhyun’s saddle off the wall.
“Perhaps, but then you can refer to them without making everyone think they’re someone you’re taking to bed,” Chanyeol smirks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He looks like an idiot, but Jongdae has to admit he has a point. If he’s honest with himself, that’s one of the reasons he was so partial to the name. The looks on strangers’ faces when he announces he’s going for a ride can be priceless.
“Touché.”
“Thank you.”
“So I’ll see you later?” Jongdae asks as he slips on Baekhyun’s bridle.
“I’ll find ways to amuse myself,” Chanyeol chuckles, giving Baekhyun one last pat. “The ladies here look even lovelier than last year!”
“Good luck finding anyone willing to look twice at you after you open your mouth,” Jongdae says with a solemn stare that Chanyeol dismisses with a wave of his large hand.
“And you have a good time dying old and alone with only your horse for company,” he replies as he opens the stall door and holds it to allow Jongdae to walk through, towing Baekhyun behind him.
“I will, thank you,” Jongdae sniffs as they step back out into the bright sunshine. He slips a foot into the stirrup and hauls himself into the saddle, raising a hand to wave to Chanyeol as he directs Baekhyun out of the castle gates. The sun is hot on his skin but it feels good to be moving, to be free after spending hours cramped in that stadium waiting for the tournament schedule.
“You’re good enough company for me, right Baekhyun?” Jongdae says pensively after several minutes of hard riding, letting Baekhyun slow to nibble at some dune grass growing nearby.
They’re standing at the edge of a sheer cliff leading down to crashing blue-green waves. Jongdae’s a bit jealous that the Prince gets to see this view every day-he’d kill to have a summer home by the sea, but his parents have never been wealthy enough to afford such things. Figures his family would be one of those with a title but nothing to back it up.
Baekhyun turns his head to glare balefully at Jongdae and Jongdae frowns.
“What?” he asks. “I don’t need some dumb wife tying me down. You and I, we’ll just keep winning tournaments until my name is known throughout all the Kingdoms. That’s it. Got to keep the goals achievable, right?”
Baekhyun snorts, nostrils fluttering in the sea breeze, and Jongdae could swear he just rolled his eyes, but he’s suddenly distracted by the sound of another rider approaching. Jongdae twists around to see a man heading towards him astride a formidable-looking stallion. But Jongdae barely has time to focus on the man’s face before his eyes are drawn kicking and screaming to the man’s utterly ridiculous outfit.
Unlike Jongdae, who prefers to be comfortable while riding, this man seems to have taken great pains to choose the most uncomfortable and strange combination of clothing possible. Jongdae wouldn’t call himself the most stylish knight around-he knows others who agonize over their outfits and spend hours deciding what to wear to state events. But he does have a special fondness for a well-put-together ensemble, and staring at this man’s choice of attire is almost torturous.
He’s wearing a dark shirt tucked into a pair of boldly patterned pants that almost remind Jongdae of those the squire had worn earlier. But the worst part, Jongdae thinks faintly, is that the shirt pulls up into a thick, white, ruffled collar encircling the man’s neck, and that he’s wearing a jacket patterned in blue, red, and even expensive purple-all of which clash magnificently with his pants.
“It’s lovely out here in the afternoon, isn’t it?” the man says politely as he draws within speaking distance. Jongdae nods vaguely to prevent himself from saying something embarrassing like were you dressed by a blind infant or are you just trying to make a statement I’m obviously too stupid to understand?
“You must be here for the tournament,” the man prompts again, and Jongdae finally manages to tear his eyes away from that horrible ruffled collar.
“Oh! Oh, yes, I am,” Jongdae replies quickly, eyeing the man’s dark hair-still perfectly in place despite the wind blowing in over the water-and his even darker eyes. “I’m from the south, Sir Chen if that means anything to you.”
“Of course it does!” the other man replies with a brilliant smile. Jongdae feels vaguely overwhelmed. “You’re one of the top competitors! We’re all very excited to see you in the ring.”
“Oh, so you’re not a competitor yourself?” Jongdae ventures, trying to work out why the man looks oddly familiar. He’s sure he would have remembered someone this sartorially challenged if they had met before.
“No, no,” the man says, and to Jongdae’s surprise a faint blush spreads across his cheeks. “I’m…well, my family is hosting the tournament so I’m not allowed to compete, you know the rules-”
“What!” Jongdae barks before he can stop himself because suddenly it hits him exactly who he’s talking to. “I mean, Your Highness! I apologize for not recognizing you earlier!”
Jongdae practically leaps off of Baekhyun, hoping against hope that the Prince is the forgiving type and won’t have him thrown in the dungeon for disrespect. Based on what he’s said so far, and that blush, he seems fairly nonthreatening, but one can never be too sure. Chanyeol looks fairly nonthreatening as well, and Jongdae will never forget the time Chanyeol’s clumsiness (admittedly, combined with Baekhyun’s skittishness) had resulted in Jongdae’s first broken arm.
Once on the ground, Jongdae bows low only to jerk backwards in surprise when he feels strong hands on his shoulders, pushing him upright.
“You don’t…have to do that,” the Prince says awkwardly, dropping his hands from Jongdae’s shirt so fast they can both almost pretend they were never there. “As far as competition goes, I’m just like one of you knights, there’s no reason to get into the Your Highness stuff. I’ve been going around all day telling everyone to call me Junmyeon.”
“Has anyone listened to you?” Jongdae asks interestedly.
“No,” the prince-Jongdae supposes he can call him Junmyeon in his head, no one will know if he just does it in his head, right?-says with a sigh and a strange half-smile. “The best I’ve come to hope for is them laughing and bidding me goodbye quickly. At worst, they go tell my father that I need to be taught a few things about being a royal, how my brother would never behave like this, etcetera, etcetera.”
“Ah, of course,” Jongdae replies, grinning at Junmyeon’s obvious disappointment. “Well, you may call me Jongdae, if it pleases Your Highness.”
He’s heard rumors that though Junmyeon is a bit strange, he’s still bright-definitely more earnest, and kinder, than his older brother. Jongdae’s beginning to regret not listening harder to those rumors. There had been so many opportunities recently-especially when Junmyeon’s older brother had declared his intention to renounce the throne in favor of becoming a knight and succeeding their uncle as the head of the royal guard. Everyone said he had really done it so he would be free to court some dark-haired beauty from a neighboring kingdom-a typical fairy-tale story of the kind that always made Jongdae roll his eyes. Jongdae wonders vaguely if Junmyeon has a dark-haired beauty of his own already. He looks old enough to be married.
“Thank you, Jongdae,” Junmyeon says with a small smile, shading his eyes against the glare of the sun reflecting off the water. “But I suppose we should probably start heading back. The banquet will be starting soon, and I’m supposed to give a speech. Against my will, I might add.”
“In that case, I might actually look forward to it,” Jongdae laughs before he remembers exactly who he’s talking to. “I’ve found the shortest speeches come from people who don’t want to give them.”
It’s only when Junmyeon smiles broadly, drawing Jongdae’s eyes unwillingly back to that damn ruff, that Jongdae realizes that he could have gotten in Big Trouble for saying something so rude to a member of the royal family. Thankfully, Junmyeon-for whatever reason-seems to be the easy-going type. Jongdae almost regrets that the Prince isn’t taking part in the tournament. He’d love to see what Junmyeon looks like in the arena. Hopefully someone would dress him in a decent outfit.
“Have you come with anyone?” Junmyeon asks, as they mount their horses and turn to head back towards the castle. “Or did you travel alone?”
“I came with my most trusted friend, Park Chanyeol, as well as my younger cousin Kim Jongin,” Jongdae says, smiling as he remembers the first day of the journey-the disgusted looks Chanyeol and Jongin had both given him when each found out the other would be coming along.
“Park Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says thoughtfully, and Jongdae feels a slight warmth in his chest that Junmyeon knows who Chanyeol is. “He has been your squire for several years, since you first became a knight.”
“Yes,” Jongdae says defiantly, the warmth fading as he realizes where Junmyeon’s questions are heading. Many people have asked, wondered, gossiped about Chanyeol over the years, and Jongdae has never tolerated it in his presence.
“Why has he not sought to become a knight himself?” Junmyeon asks, and to Jongdae’s surprise he actually sounds legitimately confused. Not mocking or disgusted or self-satisfied like the many others who have asked over the years. And so Jongdae feels a strange urge to tell Junmyeon the truth-to bite back the insults he’s thrown at other knights and noblemen, the harshest barbs saved for those who question Jongdae while Chanyeol is present, as if he can’t hear them discussing him, calling him a disgrace to his family’s honor.
“Chanyeol is my closest and oldest friend,” Jongdae sighs, eyes on his hands as he guides Baekhyun through a rocky outcropping. “And I have tried time and again to tell him that my family would use their connections-what few we have-to allow him to train properly. But he insists that, if he is meant to become a knight, he will become one through his own merit. Without relying on someone else’s help or sponsorship.”
“A noble goal indeed,” Junmyeon says thoughtfully, and this time when Jongdae shoots him a look he suddenly notices how very pretty Junmyeon is. How delicate and pale and gentle-seeming.
“Just don’t tell him that I told you,” Jongdae jokes as they ride through the castle gates, the guards on either side snapping to attention the instant they see the prince approaching. “Or he’ll never forgive me. Chanyeol likes to pretend he hasn’t a care in the world.”
“I think I understand that better than anybody,” Junmyeon sighs with a smile that takes Jongdae aback. He thinks he can see a flash of sadness in it before it’s quickly whisked away. “So I’ll see you at the banquet?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Jongdae replies, suddenly remembering his manners, and who exactly he’s talking to, now that they’re back within the castle walls. Now that Junmyeon is a prince again instead of simply a friendly stranger with a terrible choice of outfit.
“What is the point of being the prince,” Junmyeon grumbles, as Jongdae turns his horse to head towards the knights’ stable, “if no one is going to do what you tell them?”
Jongdae doesn’t respond, instead simply bowing his head respectfully in Junmyeon’s direction and spurring Baekhyun onwards. But as he dismounts and leads Baekhyun into the dark stable, Jongdae wonders at the little exchange they’ve just had.
Everyone had told him the younger prince was a little strange. But no one had thought to remind Jongdae how much he likes strange.
“Jongdae!” Chanyeol bellows the instant Jongdae steps into the enormous banquet hall. He’s a little late-Baekhyun always requires longer than Jongdae expects to feed and groom, honestly, he thinks the horse is more picky than a human sometimes-but the banquet is already in full swing, noise crashing around Jongdae’s ears as Chanyeol sweeps him up into a bear hug.
“How much have you had to drink already?” Jongdae gasps, massaging his ribs when Chanyeol finally releases him. When Chanyeol gets excited or drunk he tends to squeeze much too hard.
“Oh, not much,” Chanyeol shouts cheerily, pausing to glare into the depths of the mug he’s swinging in his fist. “Besides, what fun is a party if you don’t remember half of it the next morning!”
Jongdae laughs, shaking his head, but lets Chanyeol grab his sleeve and lead him over to one of the long tables lining the hall. Jongdae takes the seat Chanyeol offers him, then quickly jumps back up again to avoid the bowl of sticky, sugared figs that Chanyeol accidentally knocks over as he attempts to sit down.
“Be careful!” Jongdae admonishes him, brushing at his sleeves to check for any sign of stickiness. He’d decided against changing again between the tournament announcements and the banquet, so he’s still in his blue silk shirt and he’d like to keep it blue and silky, thank you very much.
“Oh, don’t worry so much!” Chanyeol laughs, swiping a damp thumb across Jongdae’s forehead before Jongdae can duck. Jongdae grabs the edge of the cream-colored tablecloth and attempts to wipe away whatever Chanyeol’s smeared on his face, resurfacing with every intention of giving Chanyeol a firm swat on the side of the head. However, instead he’s met with Chanyeol pressing a finger to his lips, gesturing towards the front of the hall-the High Table-and Jongdae suddenly notices that the ruckus in the hall has begun to die down.
“I have always been of the mind that a good meal need not be preceded by a long speech,” a booming voice says from the High Table, and when Jongdae glances around Chanyeol he can finally see the King standing up from his seat, addressing the crowd. A loud cheer rises up at his jovial words, which the King acknowledges with twinkling eyes, but then he’s raising his hands for silence. “However, in honor of my younger son’s impending coronation, I have decided to give him the honor of speaking to you all tonight, bringing the fire of competition to your noble hearts!”
Another cheer sweeps through the room, and Jongdae finds his eyes roaming the rest of the people seated at the High Table, looking for the prince. For Junmyeon.
He sees the Queen, smiling gently out at the seated guests, her older son-Junmyeon’s brother-dressed in a dashing blood-red outfit to signify his status as head of the royal guard, and several other noblemen and women that he doesn’t recognize. But he doesn’t see Junmyeon’s dark head seated among them, and Jongdae frowns in confusion.
“My son, the prince!” the King shouts, motioning towards his right, and that’s when Jongdae finally sees him. Junmyeon had been seated on the King’s right-hand side, just far enough over to be hidden from Jongdae’s sight by some knights at a nearby table. But as Junmyeon rises and steps forward, Jongdae fights the urge to slap a hand to his forehead in disgust.
Not for the first time, Jongdae wonders if Junmyeon is allowed to choose his own clothing-and, if not, why his manservant has yet to be executed. At least the ruff has been disposed of, and he’s wearing simple black pants-tighter than Jongdae would have expected but he supposes that is the new fashion nowadays. But the horrific shirt from earlier has merely been replaced by one lacking a ruff and clashing patterns but colored with the same random splotches of purple, blue, and yellow. And over top of the whole travesty he’s wearing a vest. Jongdae hates vests. They are the least functional and worst-looking piece of clothing ever created, in his opinion. Why anyone would want to wear a piece of clothing resembling a breastplate when they weren’t in the arena is beyond him.
“You all right?” Chanyeol whispers suddenly, only slightly slurring his words. Junmyeon’s started to talk, saying something generic about honor and pride and chivalry, but Jongdae isn’t listening, that shirt screaming pleas for help that drown out Junmyeon’s words.
“Of course,” Jongdae half-moans, finally managing to break eye contact with that vest. “Why?”
“Because you look kind of like you’ve seen a ghost,” Chanyeol snorts, bumping Jongdae’s arm with his mug and almost sloshing whatever he’s drinking over the rim onto Jongdae’s sleeve. “Or a dead person. Wait. Are those the same thing?”
“No, a dead person has corporeal form and can’t do anything to you while a ghost can move around and scare people but isn’t solid,” Jongdae explains irritatedly as Junmyeon bows low and sits down to an appreciative roar from the crowd. “Ah, I missed the whole speech, did he say anything interesting?”
“You’re asking me?” Chanyeol snickers, taking another long dreg from his mug and eyeing it shiftily when he turns it upside down and nothing comes out.
“Control yourself,” Jongdae sighs, as people begin to rise and mingle with their fellow knights, squires, and noblemen. He can see Junmyeon and his brother descending from the High Table, though the King and Queen stay where they are. “I’m not going to carry you out if you fall asleep in some dank corner of the hall.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about me,” Chanyeol laughs, swaying dangerously as he stands up and starts heading over towards a group of squires standing around a nearby table. “I’ll be fine!”
“Just like you always are,” Jongdae snorts, staring after Chanyeol and remembering a specific tournament where Jongdae had left his tent in the morning only to find Chanyeol sprawled on the ground right outside, wearing some poor maid’s uniform. But Jongdae doesn’t get much time to dwell on pleasant memories before he feels a warm hand on his shoulder, and he spins around to see Junmyeon standing right behind him, accompanied by his very imposing-looking brother.
“Sir Chen!” Junmyeon says excitedly, and Jongdae suddenly feels his heart start beating very fast. It’s one thing to speak to the prince in the middle of an empty field overlooking the sea, and quite another to make conversation during a banquet, where there are other people around and Junmyeon has a thin band of gold encircling his head, just in case anyone (not Jongdae) had forgotten exactly who he is.
“So good to see you again, your highness,” Jongdae replies cordially, bowing low before both Junmyeon and his brother. Junmyeon gives a shallow bow in return, but his brother simply lifts an eyebrow as in takes in Jongdae’s blue silk shirt, his hair still slightly messy from riding though he’d tried his best to tame it, and his pale skin, which Jongdae works very hard to maintain despite spending much of his time outdoors. Jongdae suddenly feels like he’s being sized up and begins to feel more than a little afraid of coming up short.
But the older prince says nothing beyond a general greeting-placing a hand on Junmyeon’s shoulder as he does so-before he’s sliding past them, already being accosted by several knights that Jongdae knows have aspirations of being generals some day.
“Did you appreciate my brevity?” Junmyeon asks teasingly, eyes flicking away from Jongdae’s face as if nervous despite the confident amusement in his voice.
“I did indeed,” Jongdae smiles, half-heartedly feeling bad about not actually having listened to any of what Junmyeon had said. “I hope you plan on continuing such a tradition at future tournaments. You’ll make many friends that way.”
“I should hope so,” Junmyeon sighs, glancing around Jongdae at the many tables filled with people-all shouting and pushing and generally having a good time. “A king should have as many friends as possible, I suppose.”
“Well, you don’t need friends so much as loyal subjects,” Jongdae reasons, but he stops short when he sees that same strange hint of sadness shifting in Junmyeon’s eyes. “Although, as a mere knight, I doubt my opinion has much value to you.”
“Of course your opinion has value!” Junmyeon protests, lips turning downwards into a small frown that creases his forehead. “I think everyone’s opinion should matter, no matter what their station.”
“A very unusual perspective for a future king,” Jongdae smiles, slightly taken aback by Junmyeon’s words. Jongdae doesn’t think he’s ever met a stranger prince-and he’s visited the Kingdom of Kwons. “But not an unwelcome one. I think you’ll make a great king someday.”
“You’ve hardly known me for half a day,” Junmyeon laughs, Jongdae feeling better now that he’s made him smile. “But I’ll take any compliments I can get, it’s tiring being told day after day by my father and my brother that I’m ‘too kind’ or ‘too unrealistic’ to be king.”
Jongdae smiles, trying to imagine a ruthless, down-to-earth Junmyeon and failing miserably, but when Junmyeon reaches up a hand to fix his collar Jongdae’s brought back to earth with a sudden frustrating jolt.
“I have to ask,” Jongdae says slowly, eyeing Junmyeon’s shirt which, now that’s he really looking at it, is even more offensive up close than it had been from far away. “Does your manservant choose your clothing for you?”
“Most of the time,” Junmyeon sighs, looking down at his shirt with what looks to Jongdae terrifyingly like a smile. “But when it comes to these special events he sometimes lets me choose. Like tonight!”
“Dear god,” Jongdae gasps before he can bite back the words. Raising his eyes tentatively to Junmyeon’s face, he sees Junmyeon staring strangely at him.
“Why?” Junmyeon asks defensively, thumb running across one of the buttons of his awful vest. “Don’t you like it?”
“To tell you the truth, your highness-Junmyeon,” Jongdae says quickly, lowering his voice on the last word so that no one hears and decides to throw him into a cold, dark cell. “Not at all. It’s...it’s. Terrible.”
“What!” Junmyeon cries, but Jongdae’s pleased to see that he looks more amused than angry. “What is there not to like? The colors are beautiful, and the vest-”
“The vest,” Jongdae sighs in an affronted tone. “Vests are never a good idea. And the colors of that shirt are...pretty...but I really don’t think anyone but a blind tailor would choose a fabric that includes splotches of all of them mixed together.”
“Well, I like it,” Junmyeon replies firmly, Jongdae rolling his eyes when he knows Junmyeon isn’t looking. “Though I will admit, you’re not the first one to tell me that I might have some...problems. When it comes to picking nice clothing.”
“Of course, as the crown prince,” Jongdae murmurs, shooting Junmyeon a sly smile. “Who are we to correct you? You may have half the court wearing clothing with so many mismatching colors before long.”
“You really dislike it that much?” Junmyeon laughs, eyes dancing. In response, Jongdae merely lifts his hands, palms up, in a gesture of helplessness.
“Then I’ll make you a deal,” Junmyeon says, eyes glimmering, and Jongdae’s eyes widen. A deal with the prince? What could that possibly entail? “If you win this tournament, if Sir Chen is proclaimed the most brave and noble knight in all of the Kingdom. Then you may build an enormous bonfire and throw all of the clothes that so displease you upon it.”
“I-what-Your Highness!” Jongdae squeaks, suddenly feeling quite dizzy as a shower of gold coins rains down behind his eyes-the enormous amounts he knows the royal family must spend on their clothing. “I would never be able to make such a deal, destroy the possessions of the prince that must have cost a great deal of money!”
“There are good things about being the crown prince,” Junmyeon grins, as if daring Jongdae to accept his offer. “One of which is, there will always be more money. Though I must say, I had been planning to wear this delightful blue and orange tunic on the first day of the tournament-my brother brought it back from a diplomatic voyage and said he’d had it made especially for me though the women who spun the cloth protested greatly those colors being used together.”
“I-blue and orange-” Jongdae breathes, trying desperately not to picture it. Junmyeon is so lovely, Jongdae can’t understand why he would want to be known as the prince who dresses like the court jester. “Your Highness, surely you understand why I cannot take this wager of yours. It would be...inappropriate.”
“Ah, but it is never inappropriate to wear bright colors,” Junmyeon sighs happily, already turning away. “Have it your way, Sir Chen. I think I see my father calling to me.”
Jongdae almost lets him go. Almost lets Junmyeon just walk away from up towards the high table where his father is indeed motioning towards him, some stuffy-looking court official at his side. But then Jongdae’s eyes are drawn once again to that vest and before he knows it, he’s leaping forwards, hand outstretched.
“I accept your deal, Your Highness,” Jongdae says loudly, biting back a laugh when Junmyeon turns around with a broad smile stretching across his face. “I will win this tournament, if only to save you from a lifetime of wardrobe-related disgrace. And might I recommend you wear a blue shirt tomorrow? I think it would complement you quite nicely.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard sweeter words,” Junmyeon jokes, shaking Jongdae’s proffered hand before bowing slightly-acknowledging Jongdae’s much deeper bow in return-and turning around again to head back towards his father.
Jongdae watches him go, feeling slightly stunned at what he’s just done.
“Having a good time, old friend?” Chanyeol laughs boisterously, appearing out of nowhere and draping himself across Jongdae’s shoulders. He smells of liquor and Jongdae can see that his pants have somehow disappeared. Thank god Chanyeol is wearing a long tunic rather than the shorter shirts he favors for riding.
“I just made a deal with the prince,” Jongdae says simply, shaking off Chanyeol’s heavy arm. “If I win the tournament, I get to burn all of his terrible clothes.”
“Well, I was going to offer you a drink,” Chanyeol says, narrowing his eyes at Jongdae in what could be a suspicious look or just an attempt to see him better. “But I think you’ve already had one too many.”
Before Jongdae can protest, saying he hasn’t even had one, Chanyeol hears someone calling his name and is blundering off, yelling happily all the while. Jongdae, after glancing out at the chaos gradually overtaking the hall, decides that he’ll be better off retiring for the night-maybe spending some time with Baekhyun. After all, now he’s got a tournament to win. He has to stay focused.
The first day of the tournament dawns bright and cheery, though Jongdae feels nothing of the sort as he drags himself out of the bed he’s been given in one of the nicer guest rooms of the castle. He’s pleased to see that there’s fresh water in the basin beside the bed, though the maids appear to have come and gone several hours ago, since it’s no longer warm. Wandering over to the window and glancing out over the grounds, Jongdae sighs when he sees that various squires and knights are already milling about, preparing for the day.
Stretching and yawning heavily-despite his best efforts, the revelry in the banquet hall had kept him up far later than he would have liked-Jongdae heads over to the tall oak wardrobe where he’s hung his clothes and wonders what he should wear today. It’s only the first day of the tournament, so nothing too showy. But he does want to give a good first impression, remind people that he is on his way to becoming one of the most renowned knights in the kingdom. Jongdae gives himself a mental pat once again for dismissing the manservant who had been assigned to help him with dressing and bathing. Chanyeol always teases that he can’t stand someone dressing him because he grew up like a peasant, but Jongdae doesn’t mind the taunts. He likes knowing that he can take as much time as he needs to get ready, without anyone standing by watching or-even worse-trying to help.
Eventually, Jongdae decides on a billowy, white shirt and dark pants. Functional for riding, but he also knows that white compliments him quite nicely. Maybe not quite as well as it does Jongin, with his darker skin and twinkling eyes, but well enough. And then Jongdae’s out the door, wondering where the maids could have gotten to with his breakfast.
Surprisingly, he meets Chanyeol on his way down the stairs-looking none the worse for wear besides his slightly glazed eyes and a dark stain spattered across his tunic. He’s even somehow found his pants, a fact for which Jongdae is very grateful. He does have a reputation to uphold, after all, and having a perpetually embarrassing squire wouldn’t do much good at all.
“Good morning,” Jongdae says brightly, laughing when Chanyeol winces, eyes blinking shut against the sunshine and Jongdae’s cheerful words. “I’m surprised to see you already up.”
“Oh, believe me, I wish I weren’t,” Chanyeol groans, passing a hand over his face as he falls in step beside Jongdae. “But, surprisingly, the floor of the library doesn’t make for a very restful night and all the light shining through those enormous windows woke me the second the sun came up.”
“How did you manage to make it to the library?” Jongdae chuckles, grabbing Chanyeol’s elbow to keep him from crashing into a servant heading past them in the other direction. “That’s almost on the opposite side of the castle from the banquet hall.”
“These things happen when you live a life as exciting as mine,” Chanyeol says with a wise nod, yelping when Jongdae punches him in the arm.
“I think these are the kitchens,” Jongdae huffs, stopping in front of a large wooden door. He can hear shuffling and clattering behind it, along with the sound of yelling. “One minute.”
Jongdae ducks into the room quickly, determined not to bother the cook and her helpers too much, but it’s mere seconds before a small boy standing elbow-deep in a tub of dough looks up and gasps, almost sending the tub crashing to the floor as he whips his hands out and bows low.
“Sir, what are you doing here?” he stutters, dashing forward and waving his hands as if to shoo Jongdae away. “Was the meal not to your satisfaction? We would be pleased to provide something else for you but you should really just have sent a servant to get us, not come yourself-”
“I’m just here because my breakfast seems to have been misplaced somewhere along the way,” Jongdae says kindly, talking over the boy’s protests. “Don’t worry, I know my way around a kitchen, if you just have some buns or eggs that would be perfectly fine.”
“But sir!” the boy breathes, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting the head cook to appear from the wall of steam and take his head off for having the nerve to talk to a knight. “We sent your breakfast out with your squire, he insisted he bring it to you himself!”
“Did he now?” Jongdae pauses, holding back a long-suffering sigh. “Well, I must have just missed him, I’m so sorry for bothering you at your work.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble, sir, none at all,” the boy insists, sounding almost dazed as he whips around and grabs a basket sitting on a side counter. “But, here, sir, if you would like these, you’re welcome to have them.”
“Thank you,” Jongdae replies happily, clutching the basket of scones to his chest and inclining his head slightly to the servant. “You’re a fine man.”
“Thank you, sir,” the boy squeaks, before dashing back to his dough. Jongdae lets himself out, the hubbub dying away as the door swings shut.
“So.” Jongdae says shortly, glaring at Chanyeol, who’s currently leaning against the opposite wall examining the stain on his shirt. “You’re the one who ate my breakfast.”
“I was hungry!” Chanyeol whines, face brightening when he looks up and sees the basket in Jongdae’s arms. “So when I saw that maid heading up to your room, I did what had to be done! Now give me a scone.”
“No!” Jongdae laughs, hauling the basket back out of reach. “You don’t deserve one today. Some squire you are, stealing your knight’s breakfast and then not even offering to help him prepare for his first match today.”
“You never want me to help you-” Chanyeol starts to protest, but Jongdae’s already dashing off, down the corridor and several flights of stairs as he heads towards the stables. He and Baekhyun will have a very fine breakfast indeed.
When he reaches the stables, Jongdae ducks hesitantly inside, pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once they do, it’s a simple matter to make his way over to Baekhyun’s stall, unlatch the gate, and let himself inside where he collapses on some hay. Baekhyun glares balefully at him, no doubt upset that Jongdae had disturbed his nice nap, but when Jongdae offers him a scone Baekhyun looks much more cheerful. As they both munch away, Jongdae wonders if he has the time to take Baekhyun out for a ride. Most of the morning’s competitors-of which Jongdae is one-are already out warming up their horses. But Jongdae’s always disliked riding around and around in a ring, and he’d much rather take another trip out to those sea cliffs.
Brushing crumbs off of his hands and shoving the basket out of Baekhyun’s reach after the dumb horse tries to eat that, too, Jongdae stands and leads Baekhyun slowly out of his stall. The fresh air is welcome after the stale warmth of the stable, and as he directs Baekhyun out of the castle gates, Jongdae takes deep breaths, letting it fill his lungs. Baekhyun seems to be just as pleased to be outside as Jongdae is, trotting happily over the rolling, grassy knolls as they draw closer and closer to the deep blue ocean.
Jongdae can’t stop himself from sighing when he hears the slow thud of hoofbeats wandering closer, and by the way Baekhyun turns to looks at him, huffing out a deep, warm breath when Jongdae pulls him to a halt, he’s not exactly pleased either at having to greet some random knight in the middle of their morning ride. However, what Jongdae is not prepared for is the voice that suddenly comes from his right-hand side, causing him to whip around in the saddle and nearly topple over onto the ground.
“Are you all right?” Junmyeon asks worriedly, as Jongdae regains his balance and tries to halt the embarrassed blush spreading across his face. So much for making a good impression.
“Of course,” Jongdae snaps, before he remembers who he’s talking to and clears his throat apologetically. “Your Highness.”
“Apparently Junmyeon is just too much to ask for,” Junmyeon sighs, gazing pensively out at the sea, but Jongdae can see a small smile creasing the corners of his mouth so he knows Junmyeon isn’t really upset. Junmyeon is wearing a simpler outfit today, Jongdae notices. The deep blue of his shirt actually accents his eyes quite nicely.
“It just...wouldn’t be right. Your Highness,” Jongdae explains, turning his gaze out over the water as well. It really is quite lovely.
“Ah, well,” Junmyeon murmurs, before repeating his original question. “But shouldn’t you be in the ring warming up? I know your match is one of the earlier ones today.”
“Does Your Highness keep such good track of all the knight’s events?” Jongdae teases, satisfied when he makes Junmyeon flush a slight pink. But then he’s recovered himself, putting on what Jongdae supposes is his most princely face.
“It’s a duty of the host of any tournament to know the schedule of every knight,” Junmyeon states proudly, before letting his chest deflate and grinning lopsidedly at Jongdae. “But the question still stands.”
“I generally prefer to exercise Baekhyun outdoors,” Jongdae replies quickly, not quite daring to evade the question again. Junmyeon may be a strange prince but he’s still a prince. “Riding around that arena for too long can make me feel ill.”
“Well, of course you must do whatever you think is best,” Junmyeon says, but then he’s dropping his gaze to the ground, eyes twinkling. “Though I have to say, I’m not sure how much exercise your horse is getting like this.”
Jongdae looks down as well, to where Baekhyun is chomping happily at the short-cropped bluff grass, and bites back a groan. Why couldn’t he have a well-behaved horse like Junmyeon’s? One that remained upright and regal-looking all the time instead of taking every opportunity to be embarrassing?
“Stop it,” Jongdae hisses, yanking at the reins to pull Baekhyun’s head away from the ground. Baekhyun turns to glare at him, half-chewed tufts of grass falling morosely from his mouth. Pathetic. What a horse.
“I should probably return to the castle,” Junmyeon says suddenly, and Jongdae feels a slight pang of discontent right before he wonders why he cares. “Good luck with your match today.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Jongdae smiles, bowing as well as he can while still astride Baekhyun. “With your good wishes, and our bargain, there’s no way I could fail.”
“We’ll see about that,” Junmyeon smirks, before spurring his horse back towards the castle, leaving a slightly stunned Jongdae staring after him, wondering if it’s really all right for a prince to speak so informally with one of his subjects.
“Come on, you lazy lummox!” Jongdae grunts, getting a very moody Baekhyun moving again. They ride for several more miles-long enough to have both of them sweating under the mounting heat of the autumn sun-but even the whirling sea breeze isn’t enough to sweep thoughts of Junmyeon from Jongdae’s head.
Part 2
Pairing: Chen/Suho
Rating: PG-13
Length: 17,857
Genre: knight!AU, romance
Summary: Jongdae is a dashing jousting champion set on winning his next tournament in the Kingdom of Kims. There, he meets Prince Junmyeon, and makes a bet with him that threatens to make Jongdae’s life a bit more exciting than he’d expected.
For krishoislove, originally posted here (chenpionships)
Birds are chirping brightly as they wheel overhead-dark dots framed by blue sky and warm yellow sun. A perfect day for a journey, Jongdae thinks to himself. The weather is beautiful, he’s wearing his most comfortable, forest green tunic, and everything is going smoothly.
“Why is the sun so bright?” Jongin grumbles from beside him, gripping his reins too tightly as he squints angrily at the horizon. Jongdae rolls his eyes. This is what he gets for offering to bring his cousin with him to the tournament. Jongin’s just come of age for competing, and the combination of nerves and sleep deprivation from excessive practicing has made him a little grumpy. Just a little.
“Oh, come on, whining isn’t very noble,” a loud voice says, and Jongdae snickers when Jongin gives Chanyeol a very dark look as he rides up next to them.
“Not that you’d know anything about being noble,” Jongin shoots back, eyes narrowing even more when Chanyeol just laughs, shaking off the insult like a dog shaking off water.
“Now, now, Jongin, play nice,” Jongdae admonishes in a mock-serious tone. Jongin pouts at him before curling forward as much as his current position will allow and letting himself be propelled forward at whatever speed the horse wants to go. Sloppy horsemanship, Jongdae thinks to himself. If there’s one thing he’s learned from several years of competing, it’s that you always want to be confident that your horse will do exactly what you want. Not that Jongdae’s ever really had that kind of confidence in his horse. Baekhyun has always been a bit of a handful. But there’s nothing Jongdae enjoys more than a good challenge, so when the trainer had told him that Baekhyun was absolutely impossible, Jongdae had purchased him on the spot.
As if sensing that he’s being mentally abused, Baekhyun snorts and shifts unexpectedly beneath him, swaying so far sideways he almost runs into Chanyeol.
“Whoa, there!” Chanyeol laughs, yanking his horse sideways just in time to avoid a collision. “I thought you said you had finally gotten that horse under control?”
“It’s a work in progress,” Jongdae grumbles, feeling vaguely Jongin-like wisps of frustration rise to the surface as he glares down at Baekhyun’s dark mane. Of course his horse would act perfectly obedient until there are other people around. He straightens the collar of his shirt, hoping that all the dust Baekhyun’s hooves are raising doesn’t ruin it. There are a few things in the world that annoy Jongdae more than a soiled outfit-Chanyeol’s attempts at dancing come to mind-but not many.
“How much longer until we get there?” Jongin asks suddenly, unfolding his body enough to cast a pitiful glance in Jongdae’s direction. “I never realized the Kingdom was so big! If we don’t reach this castle soon, I might actually die.”
“Of what, excessive complaining? I’m fairly sure that’s not terminal,” Jongdae replies sweetly. Jongin jerks his horse threateningly to the right but Baekhyun shies neatly out of the way before Jongdae even has the chance to lift a finger. So maybe Baekhyun isn’t a totally useless animal.
“We should get there today,” Chanyeol says consolingly, gesturing towards the slowly growing black dot on the horizon. “But be patient, we’ve only been traveling for a few days! You should have been with us when Jongdae had to compete in the Kingdom of Chois, that was a trip!”
“Not to mention the fact that once we finally got there I made it all the way to the final round only to lose to that tall freak with the condescending nickname and the oddly deep voice,” Jongdae sighs, grimacing at the memory.
“He wasn’t that tall,” Chanyeol sniffs, and Jongdae glares at him as Jongin chuckles appreciatively. “Shorter than me. But at least you didn’t have to go up against his cousin who was even taller-that Minho guy. And his sister was pretty cute.”
“People like Choi Jinri do not fall for loud, clumsy knights like you, Park Chanyeol,” Jongdae reminds him, but Chanyeol just smiles.
“So you say, but one day…I’ll get my chance with some royal lady,” Chanyeol says. Jongin pretends to gag in disgust and everyone ignores him.
“Yeah, and someday I’ll get a competition name at least as annoying as ‘TOP,’” Jongdae snorts. “But that doesn’t mean either of those days will end particularly well for anyone.”
“Is it lunchtime yet?” Jongin asks tentatively, as a cloud slips across the sky and throws the woods they’re preparing to enter into moody darkness. Jongdae sighs long-sufferingly.
“I suppose this is what I get for traveling with children,” he says to Chanyeol, who snickers. Jongin yells “Hey!” but they both ignore him in favor of spurring their horses forward, forcing Jongin to move as well to keep up.
“I’m just one year younger than you!” Jongin protests over the steady drumbeat of hooves against hard earth. “I’m not a child.”
“If you’re good, when we stop for lunch in an hour I’ll give you an apple,” Jongdae grins, leaving Jongin’s disgruntled griping behind him as he urges Baekhyun even faster. This command-the one to leap forward, spring headlong into action-is one Baekhyun has never had trouble following. Jongdae sometimes wonders if that’s a problem. But horses are unfathomable creatures-almost as unfathomable as humans, Jongdae sometimes thinks-so he doesn’t worry about it too much.
What he should really be worrying about is this upcoming competition. The winner advances to the inter-Kingdom competition, and Jongdae really thinks he has a shot at it this year. Sure, in the year since the last big competition, he’s gained a reputation for being a terror in the ring-a dashingly handsome force to be reckoned with, Jongdae likes to think. But winning this tournament would prove once and for all that he’s worth something. This year he’ll show up everyone who said he was too small to compete, who said he should leave the jousting to bigger, stronger knights. He can’t wait.
“Our fourth match tomorrow will feature a newcomer versus one of our oldest competitors!” the squire standing in the middle of the ring shouts, bright red-and-yellow outfit somehow seeming to augment his already loud voice. At Jongdae’s side, Jongin turns to him with a terrified look on his face.
“Sir Kai…versus Sir Xiumin!” the squire continues, grinning broadly as the crowd below them roars appreciatively. It’s been a while since Jongdae’s competed in this particular stadium but it’s definitely one of the most well-kept. The spectating benches are made of some light, smoothly sanded wood, and there’s plenty of standing room down by the fence lining the ring. Jongdae supposes it makes sense that this stadium is so fancy and clean-it belongs to the crown prince, after all, and no doubt he’ll accept nothing but the best.
“Don’t worry, Minseok knows what he’s doing, he won’t hurt you if he can help it,” Jongdae whispers encouragingly, a bit worried by how quickly the blood is draining from Jongin’s face. Honestly, of all the potential competitors, Minseok is probably one of the least threatening for Jongin to have to face in his first-ever match. At least he wasn’t paired with Heechul, that absolute menace, or Ryeowook, who Jongdae knows looks sweet but can be frighteningly focused and has unhorsed some of the kingdom’s fiercest knights.
“And now our final competitors-two of the Kingdom’s noblest and most loyal knights,” the squire is saying when Jongdae finally turns his attention back to the announcements.
“Wait, did I miss my name?” Jongdae asks in confusion, but Jongin just shrugs, fingers still twisted tightly in his lap.
“Sir Chen…and Sir Key!” the squire finishes, rolling up his scroll and slapping imaginary dust off his hands. Jongdae knows the dust must be imaginary because only a fool would allow silk that brightly colored and obviously well-made to get dirty.
The screams from the crowd begin to quiet as people start filing out of the stadium. Jongdae can see coins already being slipped surreptitiously from hand to hand as the first wave of betting begins. There will be many more, with people placing bets right up until the horses start to charge, and Jongdae just hopes the money’s on him. He’s beaten Kibum several times before-he looks more threatening in the ring than he actually is, and Jongdae actually quite likes spending time with him-but that just means he has to look ahead and try to guess who his next competitor will be.
“Wow, didn’t know you were one of the Kingdom’s most noble knights,” Chanyeol yells when he finally fights his way through the crowd to latch onto Jongdae’s shoulder. “You keep this up and the marriage proposals are going to be pouring in the second this tournament is over.”
“Ha ha ha,” Jongdae laughs sarcastically, though the words make his stomach twist uncomfortably. His parents have been bothering him about getting married with increasing regularity, and he’s getting tired of repeating over and over again that he doesn’t have any intention of settling down yet. The last thing he wants is to walk out of this tournament with a blushing, and incredibly boring, bride.
“Did we have any plans for the rest of the afternoon?” Jongin asks, materializing at Jongdae’s elbow. “Because if not I might have to go lie down. Permanently.”
“Man up, you big baby,” Jongdae laughs, though he slings an arm around Jongin’s shoulders comfortingly. Jongin may be taller than him now, but that doesn’t mean Jongdae feels any less of a desire to protect his little cousin from the big, bad world. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll talk to Minseok and ask him not to break any bones.”
“No!” Jongin shrieks, before clearing his throat and eyeing the people milling around them to make sure no one heard. “No, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right. I don’t want…I can’t…I don’t want people to think I can’t handle it.”
“Well, it’s up to you,” Jongdae says slowly, wondering if Baekhyun’s already been brushed down or if the grooms will let him do it. Sometimes they refuse, saying it isn’t right for a knight to have to care for his horse himself, but most of the time they indulge Jongdae’s little eccentricities. “Just be back in time for the banquet later tonight. You’re a big deal, you know. Everyone loves young competitors, especially ones who are handsome and mysterious.”
“Shut up,” Jongin pouts, but as he ducks out from under Jongdae’s arm and disappears into the crowd Jongdae can see that he’s blushing slightly, a pleased smile spreading across his face. Jongdae grins in satisfaction, letting the crowd carry him away from the arena and towards the castle gates.
“You’re going to talk to Minseok anyway,” Chanyeol says knowingly, tossing his own arm over Jongdae’s shoulders. Jongdae would normally shove him away but today he decides to be generous. Chanyeol did have to deal with Jongin’s oh-so-pleasant manners for several days, after all. That deserves some kind of award.
“Of course I am,” Jongdae sniffs. “Who do you think I am? Not to mention that if I return the kid with anything more than a few bruises his parents will have my head.”
“They are a little overprotective, huh?” Chanyeol says musingly, lips turning upwards at the memory. “Like that time when you managed to steal the key to your parent’s wine cellar from the steward and-”
“I thought,” Jongdae says loudly, cutting across Chanyeol’s excited chatter, “that we agreed never to speak of that again. Now help me find out where they’ve taken Baekhyun, this place is so enormous I’d probably get lost trying to find the stable by myself.”
“Right, right, of course Your Highness,” Chanyeol jokes, spinning Jongdae around and steering them both towards a set of low buildings clinging to the edges of the castle walls.
The instant they step inside Jongdae breathes in deeply, reveling in the smell of dust and hay and horse-musty, but pleasant all the same. A groom scurries up to them, an empty bucket clutched in his fist, and starts bowing so frequently he can barely get words out.
“Is there anything you require, sire?” he asks with another deep bow, shooting Chanyeol a look before focusing his eyes back on Jongdae. “Would you like us to prepare your steed for you? Or perhaps you wish to make sure he’s being stabled to your satisfaction?”
“Oh, I’m sure you have everything under control,” Jongdae replies hurriedly, suppressing the urge to reach out and drag the boy upright so he’ll stop bowing. Such physical expressions of annoyance are generally frowned upon, as Jongdae has unfortunately found out in past years. “I was just wondering if I could see my horse, to make sure he’s recovering well from the journey.”
“Of course, of course, sir!” the boy huffs, before turning and leading the way towards the back of the stable. Jongdae spares a moment to be impressed that he knows exactly which horse belongs to Jongdae, before the boy is opening the stall door and rushing away. Chanyeol stares after him with a bemused smile.
“He certainly was eager to please, wasn’t he?” Chanyeol says thoughtfully, shooting Jongdae a sly grin that Jongdae easily returns.
“Well, that’s what happens when you’re known throughout the kingdom for your nobility and bravery, I suppose,” Jongdae sighs, looking down to examine his fingernails. This is probably why he misses Chanyeol reaching up an arm to slap him good-naturedly on the back, and also why he jerks forward at the unexpected motion and ends up falling hard against Baekhyun’s left flank. Baekhyun snorts roughly and takes a few steps backwards-as far as he can in the confined space-giving Jongdae a look almost as amused as Chanyeol’s when Jongdae falls face-first into the straw covering the floor.
“I hate everything. Especially you,” Jongdae moans, voice muffled by the straw and Chanyeol’s loud laughter as he steps forward and rubs Baekhyun’s nose affectionately.
“A horse after my own heart,” Chanyeol hums appreciatively, continuing to stroke Baekhyun’s warm neck as Jongdae picks himself up and grumpily brushes hay off of his crisp blue shirt. It’s one of his favorites-he saves it especially for events like tournaments and balls-so those mud spots better come off or he’ll kill Chanyeol. With fire. Preferably.
“Well, I’m going to go ride Baekhyun for a while. Be back later,” Jongdae says, suddenly deciding that he’d rather spend the hours before the banquet exploring the bluffs they’d ridden through this morning than talking to stuffy people in stuffy castle rooms.
“You know,” Chanyeol observes, “most people don’t give their horses human names. They call them things like ‘Moonlight’ or ‘Black Pearl’ or ‘Thunder.’”
“But those names are so boring!” Jongdae whines, reaching up and grabbing Baekhyun’s saddle off the wall.
“Perhaps, but then you can refer to them without making everyone think they’re someone you’re taking to bed,” Chanyeol smirks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He looks like an idiot, but Jongdae has to admit he has a point. If he’s honest with himself, that’s one of the reasons he was so partial to the name. The looks on strangers’ faces when he announces he’s going for a ride can be priceless.
“Touché.”
“Thank you.”
“So I’ll see you later?” Jongdae asks as he slips on Baekhyun’s bridle.
“I’ll find ways to amuse myself,” Chanyeol chuckles, giving Baekhyun one last pat. “The ladies here look even lovelier than last year!”
“Good luck finding anyone willing to look twice at you after you open your mouth,” Jongdae says with a solemn stare that Chanyeol dismisses with a wave of his large hand.
“And you have a good time dying old and alone with only your horse for company,” he replies as he opens the stall door and holds it to allow Jongdae to walk through, towing Baekhyun behind him.
“I will, thank you,” Jongdae sniffs as they step back out into the bright sunshine. He slips a foot into the stirrup and hauls himself into the saddle, raising a hand to wave to Chanyeol as he directs Baekhyun out of the castle gates. The sun is hot on his skin but it feels good to be moving, to be free after spending hours cramped in that stadium waiting for the tournament schedule.
“You’re good enough company for me, right Baekhyun?” Jongdae says pensively after several minutes of hard riding, letting Baekhyun slow to nibble at some dune grass growing nearby.
They’re standing at the edge of a sheer cliff leading down to crashing blue-green waves. Jongdae’s a bit jealous that the Prince gets to see this view every day-he’d kill to have a summer home by the sea, but his parents have never been wealthy enough to afford such things. Figures his family would be one of those with a title but nothing to back it up.
Baekhyun turns his head to glare balefully at Jongdae and Jongdae frowns.
“What?” he asks. “I don’t need some dumb wife tying me down. You and I, we’ll just keep winning tournaments until my name is known throughout all the Kingdoms. That’s it. Got to keep the goals achievable, right?”
Baekhyun snorts, nostrils fluttering in the sea breeze, and Jongdae could swear he just rolled his eyes, but he’s suddenly distracted by the sound of another rider approaching. Jongdae twists around to see a man heading towards him astride a formidable-looking stallion. But Jongdae barely has time to focus on the man’s face before his eyes are drawn kicking and screaming to the man’s utterly ridiculous outfit.
Unlike Jongdae, who prefers to be comfortable while riding, this man seems to have taken great pains to choose the most uncomfortable and strange combination of clothing possible. Jongdae wouldn’t call himself the most stylish knight around-he knows others who agonize over their outfits and spend hours deciding what to wear to state events. But he does have a special fondness for a well-put-together ensemble, and staring at this man’s choice of attire is almost torturous.
He’s wearing a dark shirt tucked into a pair of boldly patterned pants that almost remind Jongdae of those the squire had worn earlier. But the worst part, Jongdae thinks faintly, is that the shirt pulls up into a thick, white, ruffled collar encircling the man’s neck, and that he’s wearing a jacket patterned in blue, red, and even expensive purple-all of which clash magnificently with his pants.
“It’s lovely out here in the afternoon, isn’t it?” the man says politely as he draws within speaking distance. Jongdae nods vaguely to prevent himself from saying something embarrassing like were you dressed by a blind infant or are you just trying to make a statement I’m obviously too stupid to understand?
“You must be here for the tournament,” the man prompts again, and Jongdae finally manages to tear his eyes away from that horrible ruffled collar.
“Oh! Oh, yes, I am,” Jongdae replies quickly, eyeing the man’s dark hair-still perfectly in place despite the wind blowing in over the water-and his even darker eyes. “I’m from the south, Sir Chen if that means anything to you.”
“Of course it does!” the other man replies with a brilliant smile. Jongdae feels vaguely overwhelmed. “You’re one of the top competitors! We’re all very excited to see you in the ring.”
“Oh, so you’re not a competitor yourself?” Jongdae ventures, trying to work out why the man looks oddly familiar. He’s sure he would have remembered someone this sartorially challenged if they had met before.
“No, no,” the man says, and to Jongdae’s surprise a faint blush spreads across his cheeks. “I’m…well, my family is hosting the tournament so I’m not allowed to compete, you know the rules-”
“What!” Jongdae barks before he can stop himself because suddenly it hits him exactly who he’s talking to. “I mean, Your Highness! I apologize for not recognizing you earlier!”
Jongdae practically leaps off of Baekhyun, hoping against hope that the Prince is the forgiving type and won’t have him thrown in the dungeon for disrespect. Based on what he’s said so far, and that blush, he seems fairly nonthreatening, but one can never be too sure. Chanyeol looks fairly nonthreatening as well, and Jongdae will never forget the time Chanyeol’s clumsiness (admittedly, combined with Baekhyun’s skittishness) had resulted in Jongdae’s first broken arm.
Once on the ground, Jongdae bows low only to jerk backwards in surprise when he feels strong hands on his shoulders, pushing him upright.
“You don’t…have to do that,” the Prince says awkwardly, dropping his hands from Jongdae’s shirt so fast they can both almost pretend they were never there. “As far as competition goes, I’m just like one of you knights, there’s no reason to get into the Your Highness stuff. I’ve been going around all day telling everyone to call me Junmyeon.”
“Has anyone listened to you?” Jongdae asks interestedly.
“No,” the prince-Jongdae supposes he can call him Junmyeon in his head, no one will know if he just does it in his head, right?-says with a sigh and a strange half-smile. “The best I’ve come to hope for is them laughing and bidding me goodbye quickly. At worst, they go tell my father that I need to be taught a few things about being a royal, how my brother would never behave like this, etcetera, etcetera.”
“Ah, of course,” Jongdae replies, grinning at Junmyeon’s obvious disappointment. “Well, you may call me Jongdae, if it pleases Your Highness.”
He’s heard rumors that though Junmyeon is a bit strange, he’s still bright-definitely more earnest, and kinder, than his older brother. Jongdae’s beginning to regret not listening harder to those rumors. There had been so many opportunities recently-especially when Junmyeon’s older brother had declared his intention to renounce the throne in favor of becoming a knight and succeeding their uncle as the head of the royal guard. Everyone said he had really done it so he would be free to court some dark-haired beauty from a neighboring kingdom-a typical fairy-tale story of the kind that always made Jongdae roll his eyes. Jongdae wonders vaguely if Junmyeon has a dark-haired beauty of his own already. He looks old enough to be married.
“Thank you, Jongdae,” Junmyeon says with a small smile, shading his eyes against the glare of the sun reflecting off the water. “But I suppose we should probably start heading back. The banquet will be starting soon, and I’m supposed to give a speech. Against my will, I might add.”
“In that case, I might actually look forward to it,” Jongdae laughs before he remembers exactly who he’s talking to. “I’ve found the shortest speeches come from people who don’t want to give them.”
It’s only when Junmyeon smiles broadly, drawing Jongdae’s eyes unwillingly back to that damn ruff, that Jongdae realizes that he could have gotten in Big Trouble for saying something so rude to a member of the royal family. Thankfully, Junmyeon-for whatever reason-seems to be the easy-going type. Jongdae almost regrets that the Prince isn’t taking part in the tournament. He’d love to see what Junmyeon looks like in the arena. Hopefully someone would dress him in a decent outfit.
“Have you come with anyone?” Junmyeon asks, as they mount their horses and turn to head back towards the castle. “Or did you travel alone?”
“I came with my most trusted friend, Park Chanyeol, as well as my younger cousin Kim Jongin,” Jongdae says, smiling as he remembers the first day of the journey-the disgusted looks Chanyeol and Jongin had both given him when each found out the other would be coming along.
“Park Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says thoughtfully, and Jongdae feels a slight warmth in his chest that Junmyeon knows who Chanyeol is. “He has been your squire for several years, since you first became a knight.”
“Yes,” Jongdae says defiantly, the warmth fading as he realizes where Junmyeon’s questions are heading. Many people have asked, wondered, gossiped about Chanyeol over the years, and Jongdae has never tolerated it in his presence.
“Why has he not sought to become a knight himself?” Junmyeon asks, and to Jongdae’s surprise he actually sounds legitimately confused. Not mocking or disgusted or self-satisfied like the many others who have asked over the years. And so Jongdae feels a strange urge to tell Junmyeon the truth-to bite back the insults he’s thrown at other knights and noblemen, the harshest barbs saved for those who question Jongdae while Chanyeol is present, as if he can’t hear them discussing him, calling him a disgrace to his family’s honor.
“Chanyeol is my closest and oldest friend,” Jongdae sighs, eyes on his hands as he guides Baekhyun through a rocky outcropping. “And I have tried time and again to tell him that my family would use their connections-what few we have-to allow him to train properly. But he insists that, if he is meant to become a knight, he will become one through his own merit. Without relying on someone else’s help or sponsorship.”
“A noble goal indeed,” Junmyeon says thoughtfully, and this time when Jongdae shoots him a look he suddenly notices how very pretty Junmyeon is. How delicate and pale and gentle-seeming.
“Just don’t tell him that I told you,” Jongdae jokes as they ride through the castle gates, the guards on either side snapping to attention the instant they see the prince approaching. “Or he’ll never forgive me. Chanyeol likes to pretend he hasn’t a care in the world.”
“I think I understand that better than anybody,” Junmyeon sighs with a smile that takes Jongdae aback. He thinks he can see a flash of sadness in it before it’s quickly whisked away. “So I’ll see you at the banquet?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Jongdae replies, suddenly remembering his manners, and who exactly he’s talking to, now that they’re back within the castle walls. Now that Junmyeon is a prince again instead of simply a friendly stranger with a terrible choice of outfit.
“What is the point of being the prince,” Junmyeon grumbles, as Jongdae turns his horse to head towards the knights’ stable, “if no one is going to do what you tell them?”
Jongdae doesn’t respond, instead simply bowing his head respectfully in Junmyeon’s direction and spurring Baekhyun onwards. But as he dismounts and leads Baekhyun into the dark stable, Jongdae wonders at the little exchange they’ve just had.
Everyone had told him the younger prince was a little strange. But no one had thought to remind Jongdae how much he likes strange.
“Jongdae!” Chanyeol bellows the instant Jongdae steps into the enormous banquet hall. He’s a little late-Baekhyun always requires longer than Jongdae expects to feed and groom, honestly, he thinks the horse is more picky than a human sometimes-but the banquet is already in full swing, noise crashing around Jongdae’s ears as Chanyeol sweeps him up into a bear hug.
“How much have you had to drink already?” Jongdae gasps, massaging his ribs when Chanyeol finally releases him. When Chanyeol gets excited or drunk he tends to squeeze much too hard.
“Oh, not much,” Chanyeol shouts cheerily, pausing to glare into the depths of the mug he’s swinging in his fist. “Besides, what fun is a party if you don’t remember half of it the next morning!”
Jongdae laughs, shaking his head, but lets Chanyeol grab his sleeve and lead him over to one of the long tables lining the hall. Jongdae takes the seat Chanyeol offers him, then quickly jumps back up again to avoid the bowl of sticky, sugared figs that Chanyeol accidentally knocks over as he attempts to sit down.
“Be careful!” Jongdae admonishes him, brushing at his sleeves to check for any sign of stickiness. He’d decided against changing again between the tournament announcements and the banquet, so he’s still in his blue silk shirt and he’d like to keep it blue and silky, thank you very much.
“Oh, don’t worry so much!” Chanyeol laughs, swiping a damp thumb across Jongdae’s forehead before Jongdae can duck. Jongdae grabs the edge of the cream-colored tablecloth and attempts to wipe away whatever Chanyeol’s smeared on his face, resurfacing with every intention of giving Chanyeol a firm swat on the side of the head. However, instead he’s met with Chanyeol pressing a finger to his lips, gesturing towards the front of the hall-the High Table-and Jongdae suddenly notices that the ruckus in the hall has begun to die down.
“I have always been of the mind that a good meal need not be preceded by a long speech,” a booming voice says from the High Table, and when Jongdae glances around Chanyeol he can finally see the King standing up from his seat, addressing the crowd. A loud cheer rises up at his jovial words, which the King acknowledges with twinkling eyes, but then he’s raising his hands for silence. “However, in honor of my younger son’s impending coronation, I have decided to give him the honor of speaking to you all tonight, bringing the fire of competition to your noble hearts!”
Another cheer sweeps through the room, and Jongdae finds his eyes roaming the rest of the people seated at the High Table, looking for the prince. For Junmyeon.
He sees the Queen, smiling gently out at the seated guests, her older son-Junmyeon’s brother-dressed in a dashing blood-red outfit to signify his status as head of the royal guard, and several other noblemen and women that he doesn’t recognize. But he doesn’t see Junmyeon’s dark head seated among them, and Jongdae frowns in confusion.
“My son, the prince!” the King shouts, motioning towards his right, and that’s when Jongdae finally sees him. Junmyeon had been seated on the King’s right-hand side, just far enough over to be hidden from Jongdae’s sight by some knights at a nearby table. But as Junmyeon rises and steps forward, Jongdae fights the urge to slap a hand to his forehead in disgust.
Not for the first time, Jongdae wonders if Junmyeon is allowed to choose his own clothing-and, if not, why his manservant has yet to be executed. At least the ruff has been disposed of, and he’s wearing simple black pants-tighter than Jongdae would have expected but he supposes that is the new fashion nowadays. But the horrific shirt from earlier has merely been replaced by one lacking a ruff and clashing patterns but colored with the same random splotches of purple, blue, and yellow. And over top of the whole travesty he’s wearing a vest. Jongdae hates vests. They are the least functional and worst-looking piece of clothing ever created, in his opinion. Why anyone would want to wear a piece of clothing resembling a breastplate when they weren’t in the arena is beyond him.
“You all right?” Chanyeol whispers suddenly, only slightly slurring his words. Junmyeon’s started to talk, saying something generic about honor and pride and chivalry, but Jongdae isn’t listening, that shirt screaming pleas for help that drown out Junmyeon’s words.
“Of course,” Jongdae half-moans, finally managing to break eye contact with that vest. “Why?”
“Because you look kind of like you’ve seen a ghost,” Chanyeol snorts, bumping Jongdae’s arm with his mug and almost sloshing whatever he’s drinking over the rim onto Jongdae’s sleeve. “Or a dead person. Wait. Are those the same thing?”
“No, a dead person has corporeal form and can’t do anything to you while a ghost can move around and scare people but isn’t solid,” Jongdae explains irritatedly as Junmyeon bows low and sits down to an appreciative roar from the crowd. “Ah, I missed the whole speech, did he say anything interesting?”
“You’re asking me?” Chanyeol snickers, taking another long dreg from his mug and eyeing it shiftily when he turns it upside down and nothing comes out.
“Control yourself,” Jongdae sighs, as people begin to rise and mingle with their fellow knights, squires, and noblemen. He can see Junmyeon and his brother descending from the High Table, though the King and Queen stay where they are. “I’m not going to carry you out if you fall asleep in some dank corner of the hall.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about me,” Chanyeol laughs, swaying dangerously as he stands up and starts heading over towards a group of squires standing around a nearby table. “I’ll be fine!”
“Just like you always are,” Jongdae snorts, staring after Chanyeol and remembering a specific tournament where Jongdae had left his tent in the morning only to find Chanyeol sprawled on the ground right outside, wearing some poor maid’s uniform. But Jongdae doesn’t get much time to dwell on pleasant memories before he feels a warm hand on his shoulder, and he spins around to see Junmyeon standing right behind him, accompanied by his very imposing-looking brother.
“Sir Chen!” Junmyeon says excitedly, and Jongdae suddenly feels his heart start beating very fast. It’s one thing to speak to the prince in the middle of an empty field overlooking the sea, and quite another to make conversation during a banquet, where there are other people around and Junmyeon has a thin band of gold encircling his head, just in case anyone (not Jongdae) had forgotten exactly who he is.
“So good to see you again, your highness,” Jongdae replies cordially, bowing low before both Junmyeon and his brother. Junmyeon gives a shallow bow in return, but his brother simply lifts an eyebrow as in takes in Jongdae’s blue silk shirt, his hair still slightly messy from riding though he’d tried his best to tame it, and his pale skin, which Jongdae works very hard to maintain despite spending much of his time outdoors. Jongdae suddenly feels like he’s being sized up and begins to feel more than a little afraid of coming up short.
But the older prince says nothing beyond a general greeting-placing a hand on Junmyeon’s shoulder as he does so-before he’s sliding past them, already being accosted by several knights that Jongdae knows have aspirations of being generals some day.
“Did you appreciate my brevity?” Junmyeon asks teasingly, eyes flicking away from Jongdae’s face as if nervous despite the confident amusement in his voice.
“I did indeed,” Jongdae smiles, half-heartedly feeling bad about not actually having listened to any of what Junmyeon had said. “I hope you plan on continuing such a tradition at future tournaments. You’ll make many friends that way.”
“I should hope so,” Junmyeon sighs, glancing around Jongdae at the many tables filled with people-all shouting and pushing and generally having a good time. “A king should have as many friends as possible, I suppose.”
“Well, you don’t need friends so much as loyal subjects,” Jongdae reasons, but he stops short when he sees that same strange hint of sadness shifting in Junmyeon’s eyes. “Although, as a mere knight, I doubt my opinion has much value to you.”
“Of course your opinion has value!” Junmyeon protests, lips turning downwards into a small frown that creases his forehead. “I think everyone’s opinion should matter, no matter what their station.”
“A very unusual perspective for a future king,” Jongdae smiles, slightly taken aback by Junmyeon’s words. Jongdae doesn’t think he’s ever met a stranger prince-and he’s visited the Kingdom of Kwons. “But not an unwelcome one. I think you’ll make a great king someday.”
“You’ve hardly known me for half a day,” Junmyeon laughs, Jongdae feeling better now that he’s made him smile. “But I’ll take any compliments I can get, it’s tiring being told day after day by my father and my brother that I’m ‘too kind’ or ‘too unrealistic’ to be king.”
Jongdae smiles, trying to imagine a ruthless, down-to-earth Junmyeon and failing miserably, but when Junmyeon reaches up a hand to fix his collar Jongdae’s brought back to earth with a sudden frustrating jolt.
“I have to ask,” Jongdae says slowly, eyeing Junmyeon’s shirt which, now that’s he really looking at it, is even more offensive up close than it had been from far away. “Does your manservant choose your clothing for you?”
“Most of the time,” Junmyeon sighs, looking down at his shirt with what looks to Jongdae terrifyingly like a smile. “But when it comes to these special events he sometimes lets me choose. Like tonight!”
“Dear god,” Jongdae gasps before he can bite back the words. Raising his eyes tentatively to Junmyeon’s face, he sees Junmyeon staring strangely at him.
“Why?” Junmyeon asks defensively, thumb running across one of the buttons of his awful vest. “Don’t you like it?”
“To tell you the truth, your highness-Junmyeon,” Jongdae says quickly, lowering his voice on the last word so that no one hears and decides to throw him into a cold, dark cell. “Not at all. It’s...it’s. Terrible.”
“What!” Junmyeon cries, but Jongdae’s pleased to see that he looks more amused than angry. “What is there not to like? The colors are beautiful, and the vest-”
“The vest,” Jongdae sighs in an affronted tone. “Vests are never a good idea. And the colors of that shirt are...pretty...but I really don’t think anyone but a blind tailor would choose a fabric that includes splotches of all of them mixed together.”
“Well, I like it,” Junmyeon replies firmly, Jongdae rolling his eyes when he knows Junmyeon isn’t looking. “Though I will admit, you’re not the first one to tell me that I might have some...problems. When it comes to picking nice clothing.”
“Of course, as the crown prince,” Jongdae murmurs, shooting Junmyeon a sly smile. “Who are we to correct you? You may have half the court wearing clothing with so many mismatching colors before long.”
“You really dislike it that much?” Junmyeon laughs, eyes dancing. In response, Jongdae merely lifts his hands, palms up, in a gesture of helplessness.
“Then I’ll make you a deal,” Junmyeon says, eyes glimmering, and Jongdae’s eyes widen. A deal with the prince? What could that possibly entail? “If you win this tournament, if Sir Chen is proclaimed the most brave and noble knight in all of the Kingdom. Then you may build an enormous bonfire and throw all of the clothes that so displease you upon it.”
“I-what-Your Highness!” Jongdae squeaks, suddenly feeling quite dizzy as a shower of gold coins rains down behind his eyes-the enormous amounts he knows the royal family must spend on their clothing. “I would never be able to make such a deal, destroy the possessions of the prince that must have cost a great deal of money!”
“There are good things about being the crown prince,” Junmyeon grins, as if daring Jongdae to accept his offer. “One of which is, there will always be more money. Though I must say, I had been planning to wear this delightful blue and orange tunic on the first day of the tournament-my brother brought it back from a diplomatic voyage and said he’d had it made especially for me though the women who spun the cloth protested greatly those colors being used together.”
“I-blue and orange-” Jongdae breathes, trying desperately not to picture it. Junmyeon is so lovely, Jongdae can’t understand why he would want to be known as the prince who dresses like the court jester. “Your Highness, surely you understand why I cannot take this wager of yours. It would be...inappropriate.”
“Ah, but it is never inappropriate to wear bright colors,” Junmyeon sighs happily, already turning away. “Have it your way, Sir Chen. I think I see my father calling to me.”
Jongdae almost lets him go. Almost lets Junmyeon just walk away from up towards the high table where his father is indeed motioning towards him, some stuffy-looking court official at his side. But then Jongdae’s eyes are drawn once again to that vest and before he knows it, he’s leaping forwards, hand outstretched.
“I accept your deal, Your Highness,” Jongdae says loudly, biting back a laugh when Junmyeon turns around with a broad smile stretching across his face. “I will win this tournament, if only to save you from a lifetime of wardrobe-related disgrace. And might I recommend you wear a blue shirt tomorrow? I think it would complement you quite nicely.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard sweeter words,” Junmyeon jokes, shaking Jongdae’s proffered hand before bowing slightly-acknowledging Jongdae’s much deeper bow in return-and turning around again to head back towards his father.
Jongdae watches him go, feeling slightly stunned at what he’s just done.
“Having a good time, old friend?” Chanyeol laughs boisterously, appearing out of nowhere and draping himself across Jongdae’s shoulders. He smells of liquor and Jongdae can see that his pants have somehow disappeared. Thank god Chanyeol is wearing a long tunic rather than the shorter shirts he favors for riding.
“I just made a deal with the prince,” Jongdae says simply, shaking off Chanyeol’s heavy arm. “If I win the tournament, I get to burn all of his terrible clothes.”
“Well, I was going to offer you a drink,” Chanyeol says, narrowing his eyes at Jongdae in what could be a suspicious look or just an attempt to see him better. “But I think you’ve already had one too many.”
Before Jongdae can protest, saying he hasn’t even had one, Chanyeol hears someone calling his name and is blundering off, yelling happily all the while. Jongdae, after glancing out at the chaos gradually overtaking the hall, decides that he’ll be better off retiring for the night-maybe spending some time with Baekhyun. After all, now he’s got a tournament to win. He has to stay focused.
The first day of the tournament dawns bright and cheery, though Jongdae feels nothing of the sort as he drags himself out of the bed he’s been given in one of the nicer guest rooms of the castle. He’s pleased to see that there’s fresh water in the basin beside the bed, though the maids appear to have come and gone several hours ago, since it’s no longer warm. Wandering over to the window and glancing out over the grounds, Jongdae sighs when he sees that various squires and knights are already milling about, preparing for the day.
Stretching and yawning heavily-despite his best efforts, the revelry in the banquet hall had kept him up far later than he would have liked-Jongdae heads over to the tall oak wardrobe where he’s hung his clothes and wonders what he should wear today. It’s only the first day of the tournament, so nothing too showy. But he does want to give a good first impression, remind people that he is on his way to becoming one of the most renowned knights in the kingdom. Jongdae gives himself a mental pat once again for dismissing the manservant who had been assigned to help him with dressing and bathing. Chanyeol always teases that he can’t stand someone dressing him because he grew up like a peasant, but Jongdae doesn’t mind the taunts. He likes knowing that he can take as much time as he needs to get ready, without anyone standing by watching or-even worse-trying to help.
Eventually, Jongdae decides on a billowy, white shirt and dark pants. Functional for riding, but he also knows that white compliments him quite nicely. Maybe not quite as well as it does Jongin, with his darker skin and twinkling eyes, but well enough. And then Jongdae’s out the door, wondering where the maids could have gotten to with his breakfast.
Surprisingly, he meets Chanyeol on his way down the stairs-looking none the worse for wear besides his slightly glazed eyes and a dark stain spattered across his tunic. He’s even somehow found his pants, a fact for which Jongdae is very grateful. He does have a reputation to uphold, after all, and having a perpetually embarrassing squire wouldn’t do much good at all.
“Good morning,” Jongdae says brightly, laughing when Chanyeol winces, eyes blinking shut against the sunshine and Jongdae’s cheerful words. “I’m surprised to see you already up.”
“Oh, believe me, I wish I weren’t,” Chanyeol groans, passing a hand over his face as he falls in step beside Jongdae. “But, surprisingly, the floor of the library doesn’t make for a very restful night and all the light shining through those enormous windows woke me the second the sun came up.”
“How did you manage to make it to the library?” Jongdae chuckles, grabbing Chanyeol’s elbow to keep him from crashing into a servant heading past them in the other direction. “That’s almost on the opposite side of the castle from the banquet hall.”
“These things happen when you live a life as exciting as mine,” Chanyeol says with a wise nod, yelping when Jongdae punches him in the arm.
“I think these are the kitchens,” Jongdae huffs, stopping in front of a large wooden door. He can hear shuffling and clattering behind it, along with the sound of yelling. “One minute.”
Jongdae ducks into the room quickly, determined not to bother the cook and her helpers too much, but it’s mere seconds before a small boy standing elbow-deep in a tub of dough looks up and gasps, almost sending the tub crashing to the floor as he whips his hands out and bows low.
“Sir, what are you doing here?” he stutters, dashing forward and waving his hands as if to shoo Jongdae away. “Was the meal not to your satisfaction? We would be pleased to provide something else for you but you should really just have sent a servant to get us, not come yourself-”
“I’m just here because my breakfast seems to have been misplaced somewhere along the way,” Jongdae says kindly, talking over the boy’s protests. “Don’t worry, I know my way around a kitchen, if you just have some buns or eggs that would be perfectly fine.”
“But sir!” the boy breathes, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting the head cook to appear from the wall of steam and take his head off for having the nerve to talk to a knight. “We sent your breakfast out with your squire, he insisted he bring it to you himself!”
“Did he now?” Jongdae pauses, holding back a long-suffering sigh. “Well, I must have just missed him, I’m so sorry for bothering you at your work.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble, sir, none at all,” the boy insists, sounding almost dazed as he whips around and grabs a basket sitting on a side counter. “But, here, sir, if you would like these, you’re welcome to have them.”
“Thank you,” Jongdae replies happily, clutching the basket of scones to his chest and inclining his head slightly to the servant. “You’re a fine man.”
“Thank you, sir,” the boy squeaks, before dashing back to his dough. Jongdae lets himself out, the hubbub dying away as the door swings shut.
“So.” Jongdae says shortly, glaring at Chanyeol, who’s currently leaning against the opposite wall examining the stain on his shirt. “You’re the one who ate my breakfast.”
“I was hungry!” Chanyeol whines, face brightening when he looks up and sees the basket in Jongdae’s arms. “So when I saw that maid heading up to your room, I did what had to be done! Now give me a scone.”
“No!” Jongdae laughs, hauling the basket back out of reach. “You don’t deserve one today. Some squire you are, stealing your knight’s breakfast and then not even offering to help him prepare for his first match today.”
“You never want me to help you-” Chanyeol starts to protest, but Jongdae’s already dashing off, down the corridor and several flights of stairs as he heads towards the stables. He and Baekhyun will have a very fine breakfast indeed.
When he reaches the stables, Jongdae ducks hesitantly inside, pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once they do, it’s a simple matter to make his way over to Baekhyun’s stall, unlatch the gate, and let himself inside where he collapses on some hay. Baekhyun glares balefully at him, no doubt upset that Jongdae had disturbed his nice nap, but when Jongdae offers him a scone Baekhyun looks much more cheerful. As they both munch away, Jongdae wonders if he has the time to take Baekhyun out for a ride. Most of the morning’s competitors-of which Jongdae is one-are already out warming up their horses. But Jongdae’s always disliked riding around and around in a ring, and he’d much rather take another trip out to those sea cliffs.
Brushing crumbs off of his hands and shoving the basket out of Baekhyun’s reach after the dumb horse tries to eat that, too, Jongdae stands and leads Baekhyun slowly out of his stall. The fresh air is welcome after the stale warmth of the stable, and as he directs Baekhyun out of the castle gates, Jongdae takes deep breaths, letting it fill his lungs. Baekhyun seems to be just as pleased to be outside as Jongdae is, trotting happily over the rolling, grassy knolls as they draw closer and closer to the deep blue ocean.
Jongdae can’t stop himself from sighing when he hears the slow thud of hoofbeats wandering closer, and by the way Baekhyun turns to looks at him, huffing out a deep, warm breath when Jongdae pulls him to a halt, he’s not exactly pleased either at having to greet some random knight in the middle of their morning ride. However, what Jongdae is not prepared for is the voice that suddenly comes from his right-hand side, causing him to whip around in the saddle and nearly topple over onto the ground.
“Are you all right?” Junmyeon asks worriedly, as Jongdae regains his balance and tries to halt the embarrassed blush spreading across his face. So much for making a good impression.
“Of course,” Jongdae snaps, before he remembers who he’s talking to and clears his throat apologetically. “Your Highness.”
“Apparently Junmyeon is just too much to ask for,” Junmyeon sighs, gazing pensively out at the sea, but Jongdae can see a small smile creasing the corners of his mouth so he knows Junmyeon isn’t really upset. Junmyeon is wearing a simpler outfit today, Jongdae notices. The deep blue of his shirt actually accents his eyes quite nicely.
“It just...wouldn’t be right. Your Highness,” Jongdae explains, turning his gaze out over the water as well. It really is quite lovely.
“Ah, well,” Junmyeon murmurs, before repeating his original question. “But shouldn’t you be in the ring warming up? I know your match is one of the earlier ones today.”
“Does Your Highness keep such good track of all the knight’s events?” Jongdae teases, satisfied when he makes Junmyeon flush a slight pink. But then he’s recovered himself, putting on what Jongdae supposes is his most princely face.
“It’s a duty of the host of any tournament to know the schedule of every knight,” Junmyeon states proudly, before letting his chest deflate and grinning lopsidedly at Jongdae. “But the question still stands.”
“I generally prefer to exercise Baekhyun outdoors,” Jongdae replies quickly, not quite daring to evade the question again. Junmyeon may be a strange prince but he’s still a prince. “Riding around that arena for too long can make me feel ill.”
“Well, of course you must do whatever you think is best,” Junmyeon says, but then he’s dropping his gaze to the ground, eyes twinkling. “Though I have to say, I’m not sure how much exercise your horse is getting like this.”
Jongdae looks down as well, to where Baekhyun is chomping happily at the short-cropped bluff grass, and bites back a groan. Why couldn’t he have a well-behaved horse like Junmyeon’s? One that remained upright and regal-looking all the time instead of taking every opportunity to be embarrassing?
“Stop it,” Jongdae hisses, yanking at the reins to pull Baekhyun’s head away from the ground. Baekhyun turns to glare at him, half-chewed tufts of grass falling morosely from his mouth. Pathetic. What a horse.
“I should probably return to the castle,” Junmyeon says suddenly, and Jongdae feels a slight pang of discontent right before he wonders why he cares. “Good luck with your match today.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Jongdae smiles, bowing as well as he can while still astride Baekhyun. “With your good wishes, and our bargain, there’s no way I could fail.”
“We’ll see about that,” Junmyeon smirks, before spurring his horse back towards the castle, leaving a slightly stunned Jongdae staring after him, wondering if it’s really all right for a prince to speak so informally with one of his subjects.
“Come on, you lazy lummox!” Jongdae grunts, getting a very moody Baekhyun moving again. They ride for several more miles-long enough to have both of them sweating under the mounting heat of the autumn sun-but even the whirling sea breeze isn’t enough to sweep thoughts of Junmyeon from Jongdae’s head.
Part 2