Frozen Fate 10/?
Title: Frozen Fate
Pairing: Changmin/Junsu
Summary: Junsu is living a carefree, comfortable life in his father’s orchards, planning a big adventure. Everything changes when it is decided that the Prince of Ice will marry a son of one of the southern lords. Junsu learns that sometimes life pushes you in an unexpected direction, and fighting it only makes things worse.
Junsu accepted the salve.
“I can see you’re in pain. Apply this. It helps,” the Prince said. Then he cleared his throat and got up to leave, as if the amount of care he’d just shown made him uncomfortable and he wanted to get out of here. Actually, that was probably exactly what it was. The Prince seemed to think having feelings was a weakness.
He was so…dispassionate. Junsu wondered if he’d been touching him not to caress but to assess the damage to the face he’d invested a proposal in.
“You’ll let Aya keep her job?” he asked, just to be sure, because who knew if the Prince cared about his servants if he had difficulty caring about his potential husband.
“Yes,” the Prince said. “But only because it’s your wish and she has never failed us before. And because she seems determined to arrest these…men who did this.” He hesitated before the word men as if he’d wanted to call them another name, and then he hesitated again. “Do you…are you willing to describe them to me, to help our search?”
Junsu didn’t have to dig through his memory long. “One was very big, two were missing almost all their teeth. They all had the copper hair and accent of Islanders…and one of them was called Kyung.” He could still feel Kyung’s eyes on him, the hunger in them. He swallowed.
A hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts. “Stop picturing them,” the Prince said quietly. “It makes it worse.”
Junsu looked up in surprise. It was like the Prince knew how he felt.
Prince Changmin quickly retreated again. “A servant will bring you some food soon. Rest. Call out if you need anything. There will be someone nearby.”
Changmin was seething with anger.
He sincerely hoped Junsu hadn’t noticed. The last thing Junsu needed right now was to feel intimidated. Changmin didn’t have any hope of him wanting to stay after this, but he did not wish to make his experience of Cryan any worse than it already was.
He would do everything he could to find the sailors, and to punish them accordingly. Not just for ruining his chances at marrying the man of his choice, but simply for doing what they did.
He stormed through the palace as his rage burned on in his chest, not really caring where his feet were taking him. Servants sensed his mood and dodged out of the way.
“Son,” the only voice that could possibly calm him in this state called out to him.
Changmin turned to face his mother. They were alone. His feet had brought him to the hallway leading to her chambers, but he had not noticed her standing by the window.
He walked over to her, eyes cast down.
“How is he?” she asked. She must have already heard.
“His body is not broken.”
She nodded but didn’t smile. “Is his spirit?”
Changmin looked at her. “I do not know.”
“I’ve been told they hardly had a chance to touch him. You might be overreacting.”
“He’ll not want to stay,” Changmin said. “He’ll come to loathe this place and long to go home where he feels safe.”
“You really care about him,” the Queen said. She seemed happy about that despite Changmin's obvious misery. “He strikes me as a strong young man. And you were younger when…” she paused. “It did not break you.”
“But I was better protected, only threatened, not beaten.” Changmin leaned forward and briefly wrapped his arms around his mother in a grateful hug. It had been a long time since he’d last shown such dependance on a parent. But today was a bad day.
She lifted one hand to stroke his back. “But they still touched you. Should we ban all foreign sailors from leaving their ships? They only seem to cause trouble on land.”
Changmin remembered her suggesting the exact same thing, years ago now. He smiled wryly and stepped back. “I know we can not do that.”
“We shall post more guards in the harbour again,” the Queen decided.
The next day, Junsu stood by his window. He’d applied salve to his bruises and wrapped a blanket around his sore body. A bowl of hot stew for lunch had warmed him and lessened his headache and he could stand the cool air again.
The view of the bay and hills never failed to take his breath away. The harbour down below looked a little emptier now that Yoochun’s and Jaejoong’s ships were gone, but it was still a busy place. He forced himself to focus on the positive.
He doubted he’d go out there again without Aya by his side, but he would not allow himself to be scared. There were so many good things to see. This was a clean and bright city, definitely compared to the capital of Soris. He wondered how the girl with the animal figurines was doing.
Then he thought about Yunji and Yunho. He looked down at the streets that ran between brightly coloured houses and pictured them walking there, years from now, Yunji a headstrong young woman and Yunho almost a man, tall and still learning to use his body to its full potential.
They would come to the palace to visit him, or maybe they would live here themselves. Junsu decided he liked both of those futures.
And since fate apparently wanted him to stay, maybe he should make the sacrifice.
Junsu closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He dropped his blanket so he could move his arms and lean on the windowsill. He breathed out, and looked ouside with a new perspective. He was looking at his new home now.
He knew he would be lonely. It could be years before the Prince decided to choose an heir and they would take in a child from Junsu’s family. Yunji might even be too old by then. But whenever and whoever it would be, the prospect of having someone familiar to talk to still made his heart a little lighter.
He doubted he’d get to travel much. His experience yesterday had somewhat dampened his enthusiasm about facing the world alone and unprepared, but the desire to go out there and learn, to see other places, was still there.
Junsu tried not to dwell on it. It hurt to throw away his dream.
It hurt, and therefore, even though he’d finally made up his mind, he knew it would be hard to give the Prince his answer. Something, possibly fate, told him this marriage was inevitable. It felt good to leave his doubts and indecisiveness behind him and do the responsible thing, something Jaejoong or Yoochun would have done, something that would make his family proud. But he wouldn’t be able to give the Prince exactly what he’d asked for.
In a way, that seemed only fair. Junsu wouldn’t get his big adventure either, and even Princes can’t always get what they want.
The challenge now was that he’d probably have to lie, and lie convincingly.
Junsu pulled the door open and looked around. He hadn’t left his room since yesterday, but the Prince had said there would be someone close enough to hear him call in case he needed something. So there should be someone out here to relay a message for him.
Aya had sagged against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. She immediately straightened up was standing next to him in a heartbeat, holding out her arms as if she expected him to stumble and fall.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Only a little sore. Falling from a tree is worse.”
She smiled and lowered her arms, but Junsu could still see concern in her eyes. Her short hair was tousled and she looked like hadn’t slept last night.
“Did you find them?” he asked, failing to sound quite as indifferent as he’d planned.
Aya lowered her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We did not find them in time. There was talk in the harbour of a Sorisian ship that left in a hurry during the night, even leaving a few its crew behind. A trader claims the captain planned to leave no earlier than this morning, but a few of his men had caused trouble and he did not want to get involved and be delayed.”
“Did you speak to the crew members that were left behind?” Junsu asked.
“None of them fit your description, but they all knew a man named Kyung. We think the captain must have chosen to protect your attackers. If he was going to leave them behind, he would not have bothered to rush his departure and desert others.” She looked up. “I’ve failed you again.”
Junsu shook his head. “Please,” he said, “stop that. I want you to talk to me like you did before. Tell me this was my own fault, because it is.”
“Thank you,” Aya said. “But I can’t be mad at you. You convinced the Prince to let me stay. I’m in your debt.”
“No you’re not,” Junsu said. “What I need is for you to tell me how stupid it was to run away from you and that you want me to never do it again. Call me a naive southerner for good measure, berate me in Cryan, anything, please.”
Aya smiled then, finally. She used her strong, commanding voice, the one she used to ask people to keep a distance in the streets, and said: “Don’t ever run away from me again.” She added a Cryan word at the end, one Junsu had never heard before.
“What does that mean?”
“It was the respectful way to address a future king.” Aya bowed for him.
Junsu tried to read her expression to see if it was serious or sarcastic, but she was too good at keeping a straight face.
“I’ll remember that,” he said. “And when I learn more Cryan, I will eventually find out if you just insulted me or not.”
She smiled again. “I look forward to it.”
“I want to talk to the Prince,” Junsu said. “Do you know if he is busy? Could we perhaps have dinner together tonight?”
Aya seemed happily surprised. “I will send word to him immediately.”
When someone knocked on his door, Junsu expected it to be Aya to deliver the response to his question, but instead a young woman he’d never seen before walked in.
He could tell from her dress that she worked in the kitchen. She also smelled nice, like a combination of spices. She bowed deeply and, still looking at the floor, mumbled: “The Prince sent me to ask you what you would like to have for dinner, my Lord.”
Her Sorisian was fluent, without a trace of a Cryan accent. She actually sounded like she came from the south, like Yoochun and Jaejoong.
“You’re not from here,” Junsu said, too surprised to focus on her question.
“No, my Lord. My father works for the King in his winter palace by the Golden Shore. The Cryan Queen brought me to here and hired me to prepare southern dishes in the kitchen.”
“There’s no need to call me a lord,” Junsu said. “I’d even say you outrank me, if your father works for a King and you yourself for a Queen, living in palaces your whole life. Did you come here all alone, without knowing the language?”
The young woman straightened up and smiled. “I’m learning. It’s been a few years already. This is a nice place. I hardly miss home anymore.”
Junsu felt he kept meeting people who were less lucky than him and somehow didn’t complain at all. This girl had been sent to a strange Kingdom to do hard work, not to inherit it, and yet she seemed happy here.
He wasn’t sure if he could be truly happy himself, but it made him feel a little less lonely knowing there was another Sorisian in the palace to talk to. He noticed her expectant eyes and suddenly remembered why she was here.
“Your food is really good,” he said. “I’ve greatly enjoyed it so far. But you don’t need to go out of your way to prepare something special for me tonight. What was the Prince originally going to eat?”
“Thank you,” she said. “And I really wouldn’t mind. But the Prince usually eats something Cryan. We were preparing whale meat today.”
That sounded fascinating and a little bit scary. Junsu didn’t think anyone in Soris actually ate whale, they used parts of whales for other things, but not food. Junsu had never even seen a whale in real life.
“I’d like to try that,” he said. “You don’t need to make something different because of me.”
The woman hesitated. “But the Prince asked me…are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ll tell him that it was my own choice if he asks.”
She bowed again. “We’ll make it extra delicious tonight.”
As Aya led him through the palace towards the Prince’s dining room, Junsu went through several scenarios in his head.
What if the Prince had changed his mind and did not want to marry him anymore? What if he did not accept his answer? What if the Queen would be there too? Junsu wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold this conversation in front of her. He was nervous enough about meeting her as it was.
Luckily, the Prince was alone, clearly waiting for him. Aya didn’t enter the room and closed the door behind his back. The Prince pulled out a chair and waited for him to sit. The silence created a tense atmosphere.
“Thank you for letting me join your table on such short notice,” Junsu said politely after he’d sat down and the Prince had stepped back to his own chair. The Prince sat at the head of the table, Junsu to his right.
The Prince gave him a strange look. He seemed unhappy somehow, although once again, he hid it well. It was more suspicion than observation on Junsu’s part. “You should have used the whole day to rest and heal. We could have dined together some other time. How are you?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” Junsu said. “I didn’t want to wait.” He hoped that the more eager he seemed to give the Prince his answer, the more believable it would sound. “And I feel much better already. ”
Strangely, the Prince seemed more unhappy. What did he think Junsu planned to tell him that he didn’t want to hear? “I hope this conversation can wait a little while,” he said. “First, I need to apologise to you for the incompetence of my guards. I assume Aya has informed you.”
“Oh,” Junsu said, a bit taken aback by how invested the Prince seemed to be in this matter. “No need to apologise. I don’t care that much that they got away. I bet there are sailors like them everywhere. You can’t possibly arrest them all.”
The Prince shot him a gauging look. “I’m glad you were not badly injured,” he said, “but I can’t just let this slide. They will never be welcome here again. If they dare set foot on our land during the next trading season or any after, they will receive their punishment then.”
They were interrupted by the opening of the doors and servants carrying in plates of food.
Junsu looked up, curious. When it was placed in front of him, he saw that the meat was dark, but not black. It actually looked like a regular steak to him. He wondered how it would taste.
The servants bowed and left, and Junsu noticed that the Prince was looking at him.
“It would have been no difficulty to prepare something more familiar for you. I hope you didn’t refuse the offer out of politeness. I would like to make your stay here as enjoyable as possible.” The Prince’s eyes dropped to Junsu’s jaw.
The bruising was hardly visible, apart from the small cut in his lip, his face looked fine, not swollen and no black eyes either. Junsu felt lucky, because he knew there was a big chance he might have looked a lot less less attractive. “And food is important when your body is healing,” the Prince added.
“Is this not food?” Junsu asked. “I honestly don’t mind. I was curious about what you usually eat. There was nothing else to it.” It would also not be attractive to act like a picky southerner, which he wasn’t. The Prince had stated before that this was something he liked about him.
The Prince nodded once. “Very well. I hope you enjoy it.”
Junsu tried the meat first. It was good, it really was, he didn’t have to pretend. It was tender and tasty. Strange, yes, since there was a hint of fish, which he did not expect, but he liked fish, and meat, and the combination was not bad.
The Prince watched him eat with unreadable eyes. “I did not have time to make proper arrangements for tonight,” he said, apologetic, “like music, or a storyteller.”
Junsu wondered why that would have been necessary. There was no need for the Prince to romance him. “Is tonight a special night?”
“I thought it might be your last-“ the Prince trailed off and cleared his throat. “I thought some light entertainment might be welcome after what happened yesterday.”
Junsu shook his head. “Having dinner with you is enough for me.”
The Prince almost dropped his knife. Junsu noticed but didn’t dare look up to see the look on his face. He was gripping his own fork a little too tightly. Had he overdone it? A little flirting would be good, but if something he said made his own skin crawl, the Prince would obviously notice he was pretending.
This had been the truth though. People performing especially for him would only make him uncomfortable.
The Prince cleared his throat. “The northern tribes mostly eat meat, fish and eggs, my father preferred that. Little plants grow there, none during the winter. Not many even grow down here. We import fruit and other foods from the south. My mother grew up in this palace and took a liking to southern cuisine. I like both equally.”
Junsu nodded. It was interesting, but his thoughts were elsewhere right now.
The way to lie most convincingly is to believe your own lie, or to believe part of it. Junsu did not necessarily want to be married, but he had concluded that agreeing to this marriage would be the best decision for multiple reasons, so in a sense, he did.
“I’ve thought about my answer,” he said without looking up. “And decided that yes, I do want to marry you.”
There was a long silence.
The Prince carefully put down his cutlery.
“You…” The Prince searched for words, “you don’t just want my protection after what happened?”
Junsu looked up. “No, no, that’s not the reason. I was already thinking about changing my answer before.” Looking up was a mistake. Their eyes met, and the Prince captured his with the intensity of his gaze.
“Do you want me?”
That was a question Junsu hadn’t expected he’d need to answer this directly. But really, it came down to the same thing. He wanted to make his family proud, to feel he was as mature and responsible as Jaejoong and Yoochun, and he wanted to avoid whatever horrible alternative fate might throw at him. Prince Changmin was the key to all of that.
“Yes,” he said.
Changmin wanted it to be true. He wanted to believe it so badly. He had no idea if this influenced his judgement, but he found he didn’t really care. He could only be happy.
Junsu had said yes, after he’d lost all hope today, Junsu agreed to marry him.
And to think that just now, he’d planned to ask him why he ran away from his guard to the harbour and where he’d planned to go without a word, and stopped himself from doing so because he was afraid to hear the answer.
But this was the only answer he cared about right now, other questions forgotten.
Remembering the dread he felt when he heard that Junsu had been attacked, the sympathy whenever he saw him flinch as he moved his bruised jaw, it appeared he really did care. He’d grown inexplicably attached to this man within five days. No wonder this answer made his heart beat faster.
He held out his hand, laying it on the table between them, an invitation.
Junsu looked at it in confusion for a moment, then he reached for it. Changmin took his hand and squeezed gently. “I will make sure no harm comes to you ever again. And I look forward to getting to know you better.”
Junsu looked away, embarrassed, but the Prince might interpret it as shyness. He’d done it. No turning back now. The Prince’s hand was warm, holding on to his, a very real reminder that he had bound himself to this man.
“I can’t wait for you to meet my mother,” the Prince said. “I think she likes you already.”
Junsu thought about his own family. What would they say? His mother would probably be proud, his father satisfied, his brother confused. Yunho was too young to understand. Would Yunji be sad that he wouldn’t come home?
“I…” he started, hesitantly. The Prince looked at him expectantly and squeezed his hand again. “Will I start living here immediately?”
“Of course,” the Prince said. “You can’t go home now, it’s too dangerous. But you can invite your family to visit us in spring when it is safe for ships to cross the sea.”
“You promised to send my family support for the winter,” Junsu said accusingly. “How can you do that without a ship?”
“Ships can and will still cross for a while,” the Prince said, “And also later on during the winter, when the wind calms down. It’s just more dangerous than usual. I would rather lose a ship and some gold than you.”
Junsu didn’t think that was completely fair to the crew of the ship, but he assumed they knew what they were risking when they accepted the job.
“We’ll make the announcement as soon as possible,” the Prince said. He clearly was happy. So he apparently allowed himself to show emotion sometimes.
Junsu looked at him. Prince Changmin’s black hair was loosely tied today, his bright blue eyes matched the tunic fitted tightly around his broad shoulders. He had strong arms, not the arms of a man who sits in his palace and does nothing all day. His smile revealed a set of straight, perfectly white teeth.
He was a handsome man, a powerful man, polite and friendly when he wished to be, beloved by his people and very dutiful. Junsu could see all that, but he didn’t think himself capable of feeling any attraction to him of a romantic or sexual nature.
The Prince let go of his and and gestured to his plate. “Let’s finish our food first.”
The fire was burning brightly in his room when he came back. It provided warmth and light, but not quite the feeling of home. He had never expected to miss his father’s house in the orchards as much as he did right now, knowing he wouldn’t get to go back there for a long time, years perhaps.
He missed the people even more. Yunho was the first he thought of, even though they had technically known each other the shortest. Would the three-year-old still remember his uncle when spring came?
It was natural to miss his family, but as he was lying on his bed in this big palace in a cold, foreign land, his mind traveled further back.
His first love was still his only love, but when you’re nineteen that is probably to be expected. She lived in the nearest village. Her family consisted of beekeepers and in his memory she always smelled and tasted of honey.
There had been no chance at marrying her, but even so, Junsu imagined what it would have been like.
She’d looked up to him, believed every word he said, called him ‘the most smart and handsome son of our Lord’. Junsu had found it endearing. Even Yunji hadn’t been that gullible, and to her he was a wise adventurous uncle.
She’d made him feel like a man at seventeen, in every possible way.
He remembered the way her cheeks flushed rosy, her mouth parted slightly and her skin was soft under his fingers. She’d let him touch her breasts and smiled when she saw it made him even more nervous and excited than she felt herself.
She disappeared suddenly, without a word. Junsu had known it couldn’t last, but it hurt more than he’d expected. He’d never know if his father had found out or if her family had simply moved away. Their house was deserted and empty for a year. Now a basket maker lived there.
Sometimes, like today, he allowed himself to think back to the stolen summer nights chasing each other in the orchards, kissing under the trees and making love on the grass.
Suddenly, the memories faded and Junsu imagined himself being pressed to the ground by the heavy weight of a man on top of him. He shivered, pulled his blanket a little tighter around his body and tried to sleep.
NEXT
Previous
Pairing: Changmin/Junsu
Summary: Junsu is living a carefree, comfortable life in his father’s orchards, planning a big adventure. Everything changes when it is decided that the Prince of Ice will marry a son of one of the southern lords. Junsu learns that sometimes life pushes you in an unexpected direction, and fighting it only makes things worse.
Junsu accepted the salve.
“I can see you’re in pain. Apply this. It helps,” the Prince said. Then he cleared his throat and got up to leave, as if the amount of care he’d just shown made him uncomfortable and he wanted to get out of here. Actually, that was probably exactly what it was. The Prince seemed to think having feelings was a weakness.
He was so…dispassionate. Junsu wondered if he’d been touching him not to caress but to assess the damage to the face he’d invested a proposal in.
“You’ll let Aya keep her job?” he asked, just to be sure, because who knew if the Prince cared about his servants if he had difficulty caring about his potential husband.
“Yes,” the Prince said. “But only because it’s your wish and she has never failed us before. And because she seems determined to arrest these…men who did this.” He hesitated before the word men as if he’d wanted to call them another name, and then he hesitated again. “Do you…are you willing to describe them to me, to help our search?”
Junsu didn’t have to dig through his memory long. “One was very big, two were missing almost all their teeth. They all had the copper hair and accent of Islanders…and one of them was called Kyung.” He could still feel Kyung’s eyes on him, the hunger in them. He swallowed.
A hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts. “Stop picturing them,” the Prince said quietly. “It makes it worse.”
Junsu looked up in surprise. It was like the Prince knew how he felt.
Prince Changmin quickly retreated again. “A servant will bring you some food soon. Rest. Call out if you need anything. There will be someone nearby.”
Changmin was seething with anger.
He sincerely hoped Junsu hadn’t noticed. The last thing Junsu needed right now was to feel intimidated. Changmin didn’t have any hope of him wanting to stay after this, but he did not wish to make his experience of Cryan any worse than it already was.
He would do everything he could to find the sailors, and to punish them accordingly. Not just for ruining his chances at marrying the man of his choice, but simply for doing what they did.
He stormed through the palace as his rage burned on in his chest, not really caring where his feet were taking him. Servants sensed his mood and dodged out of the way.
“Son,” the only voice that could possibly calm him in this state called out to him.
Changmin turned to face his mother. They were alone. His feet had brought him to the hallway leading to her chambers, but he had not noticed her standing by the window.
He walked over to her, eyes cast down.
“How is he?” she asked. She must have already heard.
“His body is not broken.”
She nodded but didn’t smile. “Is his spirit?”
Changmin looked at her. “I do not know.”
“I’ve been told they hardly had a chance to touch him. You might be overreacting.”
“He’ll not want to stay,” Changmin said. “He’ll come to loathe this place and long to go home where he feels safe.”
“You really care about him,” the Queen said. She seemed happy about that despite Changmin's obvious misery. “He strikes me as a strong young man. And you were younger when…” she paused. “It did not break you.”
“But I was better protected, only threatened, not beaten.” Changmin leaned forward and briefly wrapped his arms around his mother in a grateful hug. It had been a long time since he’d last shown such dependance on a parent. But today was a bad day.
She lifted one hand to stroke his back. “But they still touched you. Should we ban all foreign sailors from leaving their ships? They only seem to cause trouble on land.”
Changmin remembered her suggesting the exact same thing, years ago now. He smiled wryly and stepped back. “I know we can not do that.”
“We shall post more guards in the harbour again,” the Queen decided.
The next day, Junsu stood by his window. He’d applied salve to his bruises and wrapped a blanket around his sore body. A bowl of hot stew for lunch had warmed him and lessened his headache and he could stand the cool air again.
The view of the bay and hills never failed to take his breath away. The harbour down below looked a little emptier now that Yoochun’s and Jaejoong’s ships were gone, but it was still a busy place. He forced himself to focus on the positive.
He doubted he’d go out there again without Aya by his side, but he would not allow himself to be scared. There were so many good things to see. This was a clean and bright city, definitely compared to the capital of Soris. He wondered how the girl with the animal figurines was doing.
Then he thought about Yunji and Yunho. He looked down at the streets that ran between brightly coloured houses and pictured them walking there, years from now, Yunji a headstrong young woman and Yunho almost a man, tall and still learning to use his body to its full potential.
They would come to the palace to visit him, or maybe they would live here themselves. Junsu decided he liked both of those futures.
And since fate apparently wanted him to stay, maybe he should make the sacrifice.
Junsu closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He dropped his blanket so he could move his arms and lean on the windowsill. He breathed out, and looked ouside with a new perspective. He was looking at his new home now.
He knew he would be lonely. It could be years before the Prince decided to choose an heir and they would take in a child from Junsu’s family. Yunji might even be too old by then. But whenever and whoever it would be, the prospect of having someone familiar to talk to still made his heart a little lighter.
He doubted he’d get to travel much. His experience yesterday had somewhat dampened his enthusiasm about facing the world alone and unprepared, but the desire to go out there and learn, to see other places, was still there.
Junsu tried not to dwell on it. It hurt to throw away his dream.
It hurt, and therefore, even though he’d finally made up his mind, he knew it would be hard to give the Prince his answer. Something, possibly fate, told him this marriage was inevitable. It felt good to leave his doubts and indecisiveness behind him and do the responsible thing, something Jaejoong or Yoochun would have done, something that would make his family proud. But he wouldn’t be able to give the Prince exactly what he’d asked for.
In a way, that seemed only fair. Junsu wouldn’t get his big adventure either, and even Princes can’t always get what they want.
The challenge now was that he’d probably have to lie, and lie convincingly.
Junsu pulled the door open and looked around. He hadn’t left his room since yesterday, but the Prince had said there would be someone close enough to hear him call in case he needed something. So there should be someone out here to relay a message for him.
Aya had sagged against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. She immediately straightened up was standing next to him in a heartbeat, holding out her arms as if she expected him to stumble and fall.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Only a little sore. Falling from a tree is worse.”
She smiled and lowered her arms, but Junsu could still see concern in her eyes. Her short hair was tousled and she looked like hadn’t slept last night.
“Did you find them?” he asked, failing to sound quite as indifferent as he’d planned.
Aya lowered her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We did not find them in time. There was talk in the harbour of a Sorisian ship that left in a hurry during the night, even leaving a few its crew behind. A trader claims the captain planned to leave no earlier than this morning, but a few of his men had caused trouble and he did not want to get involved and be delayed.”
“Did you speak to the crew members that were left behind?” Junsu asked.
“None of them fit your description, but they all knew a man named Kyung. We think the captain must have chosen to protect your attackers. If he was going to leave them behind, he would not have bothered to rush his departure and desert others.” She looked up. “I’ve failed you again.”
Junsu shook his head. “Please,” he said, “stop that. I want you to talk to me like you did before. Tell me this was my own fault, because it is.”
“Thank you,” Aya said. “But I can’t be mad at you. You convinced the Prince to let me stay. I’m in your debt.”
“No you’re not,” Junsu said. “What I need is for you to tell me how stupid it was to run away from you and that you want me to never do it again. Call me a naive southerner for good measure, berate me in Cryan, anything, please.”
Aya smiled then, finally. She used her strong, commanding voice, the one she used to ask people to keep a distance in the streets, and said: “Don’t ever run away from me again.” She added a Cryan word at the end, one Junsu had never heard before.
“What does that mean?”
“It was the respectful way to address a future king.” Aya bowed for him.
Junsu tried to read her expression to see if it was serious or sarcastic, but she was too good at keeping a straight face.
“I’ll remember that,” he said. “And when I learn more Cryan, I will eventually find out if you just insulted me or not.”
She smiled again. “I look forward to it.”
“I want to talk to the Prince,” Junsu said. “Do you know if he is busy? Could we perhaps have dinner together tonight?”
Aya seemed happily surprised. “I will send word to him immediately.”
When someone knocked on his door, Junsu expected it to be Aya to deliver the response to his question, but instead a young woman he’d never seen before walked in.
He could tell from her dress that she worked in the kitchen. She also smelled nice, like a combination of spices. She bowed deeply and, still looking at the floor, mumbled: “The Prince sent me to ask you what you would like to have for dinner, my Lord.”
Her Sorisian was fluent, without a trace of a Cryan accent. She actually sounded like she came from the south, like Yoochun and Jaejoong.
“You’re not from here,” Junsu said, too surprised to focus on her question.
“No, my Lord. My father works for the King in his winter palace by the Golden Shore. The Cryan Queen brought me to here and hired me to prepare southern dishes in the kitchen.”
“There’s no need to call me a lord,” Junsu said. “I’d even say you outrank me, if your father works for a King and you yourself for a Queen, living in palaces your whole life. Did you come here all alone, without knowing the language?”
The young woman straightened up and smiled. “I’m learning. It’s been a few years already. This is a nice place. I hardly miss home anymore.”
Junsu felt he kept meeting people who were less lucky than him and somehow didn’t complain at all. This girl had been sent to a strange Kingdom to do hard work, not to inherit it, and yet she seemed happy here.
He wasn’t sure if he could be truly happy himself, but it made him feel a little less lonely knowing there was another Sorisian in the palace to talk to. He noticed her expectant eyes and suddenly remembered why she was here.
“Your food is really good,” he said. “I’ve greatly enjoyed it so far. But you don’t need to go out of your way to prepare something special for me tonight. What was the Prince originally going to eat?”
“Thank you,” she said. “And I really wouldn’t mind. But the Prince usually eats something Cryan. We were preparing whale meat today.”
That sounded fascinating and a little bit scary. Junsu didn’t think anyone in Soris actually ate whale, they used parts of whales for other things, but not food. Junsu had never even seen a whale in real life.
“I’d like to try that,” he said. “You don’t need to make something different because of me.”
The woman hesitated. “But the Prince asked me…are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ll tell him that it was my own choice if he asks.”
She bowed again. “We’ll make it extra delicious tonight.”
As Aya led him through the palace towards the Prince’s dining room, Junsu went through several scenarios in his head.
What if the Prince had changed his mind and did not want to marry him anymore? What if he did not accept his answer? What if the Queen would be there too? Junsu wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold this conversation in front of her. He was nervous enough about meeting her as it was.
Luckily, the Prince was alone, clearly waiting for him. Aya didn’t enter the room and closed the door behind his back. The Prince pulled out a chair and waited for him to sit. The silence created a tense atmosphere.
“Thank you for letting me join your table on such short notice,” Junsu said politely after he’d sat down and the Prince had stepped back to his own chair. The Prince sat at the head of the table, Junsu to his right.
The Prince gave him a strange look. He seemed unhappy somehow, although once again, he hid it well. It was more suspicion than observation on Junsu’s part. “You should have used the whole day to rest and heal. We could have dined together some other time. How are you?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” Junsu said. “I didn’t want to wait.” He hoped that the more eager he seemed to give the Prince his answer, the more believable it would sound. “And I feel much better already. ”
Strangely, the Prince seemed more unhappy. What did he think Junsu planned to tell him that he didn’t want to hear? “I hope this conversation can wait a little while,” he said. “First, I need to apologise to you for the incompetence of my guards. I assume Aya has informed you.”
“Oh,” Junsu said, a bit taken aback by how invested the Prince seemed to be in this matter. “No need to apologise. I don’t care that much that they got away. I bet there are sailors like them everywhere. You can’t possibly arrest them all.”
The Prince shot him a gauging look. “I’m glad you were not badly injured,” he said, “but I can’t just let this slide. They will never be welcome here again. If they dare set foot on our land during the next trading season or any after, they will receive their punishment then.”
They were interrupted by the opening of the doors and servants carrying in plates of food.
Junsu looked up, curious. When it was placed in front of him, he saw that the meat was dark, but not black. It actually looked like a regular steak to him. He wondered how it would taste.
The servants bowed and left, and Junsu noticed that the Prince was looking at him.
“It would have been no difficulty to prepare something more familiar for you. I hope you didn’t refuse the offer out of politeness. I would like to make your stay here as enjoyable as possible.” The Prince’s eyes dropped to Junsu’s jaw.
The bruising was hardly visible, apart from the small cut in his lip, his face looked fine, not swollen and no black eyes either. Junsu felt lucky, because he knew there was a big chance he might have looked a lot less less attractive. “And food is important when your body is healing,” the Prince added.
“Is this not food?” Junsu asked. “I honestly don’t mind. I was curious about what you usually eat. There was nothing else to it.” It would also not be attractive to act like a picky southerner, which he wasn’t. The Prince had stated before that this was something he liked about him.
The Prince nodded once. “Very well. I hope you enjoy it.”
Junsu tried the meat first. It was good, it really was, he didn’t have to pretend. It was tender and tasty. Strange, yes, since there was a hint of fish, which he did not expect, but he liked fish, and meat, and the combination was not bad.
The Prince watched him eat with unreadable eyes. “I did not have time to make proper arrangements for tonight,” he said, apologetic, “like music, or a storyteller.”
Junsu wondered why that would have been necessary. There was no need for the Prince to romance him. “Is tonight a special night?”
“I thought it might be your last-“ the Prince trailed off and cleared his throat. “I thought some light entertainment might be welcome after what happened yesterday.”
Junsu shook his head. “Having dinner with you is enough for me.”
The Prince almost dropped his knife. Junsu noticed but didn’t dare look up to see the look on his face. He was gripping his own fork a little too tightly. Had he overdone it? A little flirting would be good, but if something he said made his own skin crawl, the Prince would obviously notice he was pretending.
This had been the truth though. People performing especially for him would only make him uncomfortable.
The Prince cleared his throat. “The northern tribes mostly eat meat, fish and eggs, my father preferred that. Little plants grow there, none during the winter. Not many even grow down here. We import fruit and other foods from the south. My mother grew up in this palace and took a liking to southern cuisine. I like both equally.”
Junsu nodded. It was interesting, but his thoughts were elsewhere right now.
The way to lie most convincingly is to believe your own lie, or to believe part of it. Junsu did not necessarily want to be married, but he had concluded that agreeing to this marriage would be the best decision for multiple reasons, so in a sense, he did.
“I’ve thought about my answer,” he said without looking up. “And decided that yes, I do want to marry you.”
There was a long silence.
The Prince carefully put down his cutlery.
“You…” The Prince searched for words, “you don’t just want my protection after what happened?”
Junsu looked up. “No, no, that’s not the reason. I was already thinking about changing my answer before.” Looking up was a mistake. Their eyes met, and the Prince captured his with the intensity of his gaze.
“Do you want me?”
That was a question Junsu hadn’t expected he’d need to answer this directly. But really, it came down to the same thing. He wanted to make his family proud, to feel he was as mature and responsible as Jaejoong and Yoochun, and he wanted to avoid whatever horrible alternative fate might throw at him. Prince Changmin was the key to all of that.
“Yes,” he said.
Changmin wanted it to be true. He wanted to believe it so badly. He had no idea if this influenced his judgement, but he found he didn’t really care. He could only be happy.
Junsu had said yes, after he’d lost all hope today, Junsu agreed to marry him.
And to think that just now, he’d planned to ask him why he ran away from his guard to the harbour and where he’d planned to go without a word, and stopped himself from doing so because he was afraid to hear the answer.
But this was the only answer he cared about right now, other questions forgotten.
Remembering the dread he felt when he heard that Junsu had been attacked, the sympathy whenever he saw him flinch as he moved his bruised jaw, it appeared he really did care. He’d grown inexplicably attached to this man within five days. No wonder this answer made his heart beat faster.
He held out his hand, laying it on the table between them, an invitation.
Junsu looked at it in confusion for a moment, then he reached for it. Changmin took his hand and squeezed gently. “I will make sure no harm comes to you ever again. And I look forward to getting to know you better.”
Junsu looked away, embarrassed, but the Prince might interpret it as shyness. He’d done it. No turning back now. The Prince’s hand was warm, holding on to his, a very real reminder that he had bound himself to this man.
“I can’t wait for you to meet my mother,” the Prince said. “I think she likes you already.”
Junsu thought about his own family. What would they say? His mother would probably be proud, his father satisfied, his brother confused. Yunho was too young to understand. Would Yunji be sad that he wouldn’t come home?
“I…” he started, hesitantly. The Prince looked at him expectantly and squeezed his hand again. “Will I start living here immediately?”
“Of course,” the Prince said. “You can’t go home now, it’s too dangerous. But you can invite your family to visit us in spring when it is safe for ships to cross the sea.”
“You promised to send my family support for the winter,” Junsu said accusingly. “How can you do that without a ship?”
“Ships can and will still cross for a while,” the Prince said, “And also later on during the winter, when the wind calms down. It’s just more dangerous than usual. I would rather lose a ship and some gold than you.”
Junsu didn’t think that was completely fair to the crew of the ship, but he assumed they knew what they were risking when they accepted the job.
“We’ll make the announcement as soon as possible,” the Prince said. He clearly was happy. So he apparently allowed himself to show emotion sometimes.
Junsu looked at him. Prince Changmin’s black hair was loosely tied today, his bright blue eyes matched the tunic fitted tightly around his broad shoulders. He had strong arms, not the arms of a man who sits in his palace and does nothing all day. His smile revealed a set of straight, perfectly white teeth.
He was a handsome man, a powerful man, polite and friendly when he wished to be, beloved by his people and very dutiful. Junsu could see all that, but he didn’t think himself capable of feeling any attraction to him of a romantic or sexual nature.
The Prince let go of his and and gestured to his plate. “Let’s finish our food first.”
The fire was burning brightly in his room when he came back. It provided warmth and light, but not quite the feeling of home. He had never expected to miss his father’s house in the orchards as much as he did right now, knowing he wouldn’t get to go back there for a long time, years perhaps.
He missed the people even more. Yunho was the first he thought of, even though they had technically known each other the shortest. Would the three-year-old still remember his uncle when spring came?
It was natural to miss his family, but as he was lying on his bed in this big palace in a cold, foreign land, his mind traveled further back.
His first love was still his only love, but when you’re nineteen that is probably to be expected. She lived in the nearest village. Her family consisted of beekeepers and in his memory she always smelled and tasted of honey.
There had been no chance at marrying her, but even so, Junsu imagined what it would have been like.
She’d looked up to him, believed every word he said, called him ‘the most smart and handsome son of our Lord’. Junsu had found it endearing. Even Yunji hadn’t been that gullible, and to her he was a wise adventurous uncle.
She’d made him feel like a man at seventeen, in every possible way.
He remembered the way her cheeks flushed rosy, her mouth parted slightly and her skin was soft under his fingers. She’d let him touch her breasts and smiled when she saw it made him even more nervous and excited than she felt herself.
She disappeared suddenly, without a word. Junsu had known it couldn’t last, but it hurt more than he’d expected. He’d never know if his father had found out or if her family had simply moved away. Their house was deserted and empty for a year. Now a basket maker lived there.
Sometimes, like today, he allowed himself to think back to the stolen summer nights chasing each other in the orchards, kissing under the trees and making love on the grass.
Suddenly, the memories faded and Junsu imagined himself being pressed to the ground by the heavy weight of a man on top of him. He shivered, pulled his blanket a little tighter around his body and tried to sleep.
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