Imperial
Title: Imperial
Author: vaguelynormal
Pairing: Changmin/Yunho
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Short fic
Summary: Prompt: royalty
Yunho moves quietly across the room as Changmin observes the gardens from the height of his window. He knows his servant wishes to speak but Changmin feels a rare moment of tranquillity as the afternoon sun fades into the bleaker colours of early winter so he refrains from leaving any openings for Yunho to confront him. The last of the autumn leaves cling to the birch trees lining a path pebbled in white and the grass is a radiant green, lush from the season’s rain. It’s pretty but slightly desolate and the bare expanse of the carefully sculpted garden with no one to appreciate it leaves Changmin feeling lonely. He sighs and turns his shoulders ever so slightly to the side, his gaze still focused on the horizon.
Yunho jumps swiftly into the opening, ‘Sir, I’ve prepared your clothing for tonight’s event. A bath can be drawn, if you wish.’
Changmin nods to indicate he has heard Yunho’s words. He likes baths with his servant- Yunho is good with his hands, scratching at his scalp as the soap foams in his hair or digging into muscles as he scrubs Changmin’s shoulders. This bath wouldn’t be as luxurious; Changmin knows this is his servant’s request to make himself presentable for this evening’s dinner. His hair is a little too dishevelled lately- it won’t be long before Yunho requests he cut that too. ‘I don’t wish to attend, can’t you think of some excuse? It would be nicer to spend the evening in the library, away from all the fuss my father insists on.’
‘You won’t find a bride in the library, your highness,’ Yunho scolds him weakly. Yunho’s requests have all lacked strength of late.
‘I do not want one,’ Changmin tuts.
‘Shall I draw you a bath, your highness?’ Yunho dodges his petulance the same way he always does, gently nudging Changmin through the paths he has to follow. Yunho is firm but delicate in his approach- it’s probably why Changmin has kept him so long.
Changmin mulls it over. A bath now will restrict him from misbehaving later. A solitary sparrow lands on a branch outside, shaking the final leaf from the tree and Changmin watches as it flutters to the ground. ‘I want to play first, I feel incredibly tense.’
‘Your highness?’
‘Take off your clothes,’ he orders, ‘kneel on the bed.’
‘Yes, your highness,’ Yunho complies as he always does to Changmin’s requests, clothes rustling as he removes them.
When it is silent, Changmin turns from the window and makes his way over to the large bed. His servant rests at the foot of the bed, skin clashing brilliantly with the deep red and gold of the quilt. Changmin runs a hand up the man’s spine, struck by the desire to inhale Yunho’s familiar scent. He’s never tired of seeing Yunho like this- not once since he was just a boy.
‘You’re trembling,’ Changmin observes, studying Yunho’s body intently as the man shakes and sweat rolls down his temple. Yunho tries to school his body into his normal rigid mask but his limbs won’t comply, elbows threatening to buckle.
‘I’m sorry, your highness,’ Yunho’s voice strains, eyes closing as he grits his teeth.
‘Are you ill?’ Changmin suddenly thinks to ask, pressing a palm to Yunho’s skin and finding it burning like the sun. ‘How long have you had a fever?’
Yunho opens his mouth but doesn’t speak, his condition deteriorating by the moment. Changmin feels his temper flare and pushes the servant to the side, the man rolling onto his back and lying limp beneath him. ‘I’m sorry,’ Yunho says again, his words tight and strained.
‘Why didn’t you rest properly?’ Changmin scolds, swallowing panic that burns his fear into anger. ‘You’re my property. How are you supposed to serve me if you’re unwell? Don’t you know it’s your duty to take care of yourself as one of my belongings?’
Yunho’s face is pinched with pain, sweat forming down his neck and dampening his locks. He looks at Changmin with repentance and shame- Yunho’s such a loyal servant, dedicated to the throne. When Changmin was younger he asked the man if he minded sacrificing his own livelihood to serve him. Yunho had reassured him as a child that he was simply born to serve Changmin and could not imagine a life without the honour. Pretty words to please him, no doubt but Changmin wonders if there isn’t a hint of truth to them. Yunho’s eyes never stray from Changmin.
‘I’m sorry, my prince,’ Yunho says weakly, his hands clenching the sheets until his knuckles are bone white.
Changmin growls, quickly plucking Yunho’s clothes from the floor and guiding limp limbs into them. ‘I won’t forgive you, if you die,’ he threatens, willing Yunho to be strong. When his servant is dressed, Changmin calls for the other men in his service and moves back to his spot by the window. As the men fill the room, Changmin barely turns to glance at them. ‘My servant is ill, you will call for the healers immediately,’ he orders and watches in the window’s reflection as one bows and rushes from the room. The other two men check Yunho’s body, the broader of the two lifting the man easily into his arms.
‘We will move him to his chambers and have the healers treat him there, if it pleases your Highness,’ the servant assures him, waiting for Changmin’s permission to leave the room.
Changmin nods. ‘Send a maid to draw a bath on your way,’ he stares hard into the glass, Yunho’s sickly pallor reflected startlingly.
‘As you wish, your Highness,’ the other man bows low.
Changmin’s words stop them at the doorway. ‘See to it that Yunho receives the upmost care. If he dies, I will have you all executed,’ he advises, voice cold.
‘Yes, your Highness,’ the men stutter, bowing again before rushing from the room, leaving Changmin alone to admire the view of the royal gardens from his window.
A/N: Day 3 of the monthly spam.
Author: vaguelynormal
Pairing: Changmin/Yunho
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Short fic
Summary: Prompt: royalty
Yunho moves quietly across the room as Changmin observes the gardens from the height of his window. He knows his servant wishes to speak but Changmin feels a rare moment of tranquillity as the afternoon sun fades into the bleaker colours of early winter so he refrains from leaving any openings for Yunho to confront him. The last of the autumn leaves cling to the birch trees lining a path pebbled in white and the grass is a radiant green, lush from the season’s rain. It’s pretty but slightly desolate and the bare expanse of the carefully sculpted garden with no one to appreciate it leaves Changmin feeling lonely. He sighs and turns his shoulders ever so slightly to the side, his gaze still focused on the horizon.
Yunho jumps swiftly into the opening, ‘Sir, I’ve prepared your clothing for tonight’s event. A bath can be drawn, if you wish.’
Changmin nods to indicate he has heard Yunho’s words. He likes baths with his servant- Yunho is good with his hands, scratching at his scalp as the soap foams in his hair or digging into muscles as he scrubs Changmin’s shoulders. This bath wouldn’t be as luxurious; Changmin knows this is his servant’s request to make himself presentable for this evening’s dinner. His hair is a little too dishevelled lately- it won’t be long before Yunho requests he cut that too. ‘I don’t wish to attend, can’t you think of some excuse? It would be nicer to spend the evening in the library, away from all the fuss my father insists on.’
‘You won’t find a bride in the library, your highness,’ Yunho scolds him weakly. Yunho’s requests have all lacked strength of late.
‘I do not want one,’ Changmin tuts.
‘Shall I draw you a bath, your highness?’ Yunho dodges his petulance the same way he always does, gently nudging Changmin through the paths he has to follow. Yunho is firm but delicate in his approach- it’s probably why Changmin has kept him so long.
Changmin mulls it over. A bath now will restrict him from misbehaving later. A solitary sparrow lands on a branch outside, shaking the final leaf from the tree and Changmin watches as it flutters to the ground. ‘I want to play first, I feel incredibly tense.’
‘Your highness?’
‘Take off your clothes,’ he orders, ‘kneel on the bed.’
‘Yes, your highness,’ Yunho complies as he always does to Changmin’s requests, clothes rustling as he removes them.
When it is silent, Changmin turns from the window and makes his way over to the large bed. His servant rests at the foot of the bed, skin clashing brilliantly with the deep red and gold of the quilt. Changmin runs a hand up the man’s spine, struck by the desire to inhale Yunho’s familiar scent. He’s never tired of seeing Yunho like this- not once since he was just a boy.
‘You’re trembling,’ Changmin observes, studying Yunho’s body intently as the man shakes and sweat rolls down his temple. Yunho tries to school his body into his normal rigid mask but his limbs won’t comply, elbows threatening to buckle.
‘I’m sorry, your highness,’ Yunho’s voice strains, eyes closing as he grits his teeth.
‘Are you ill?’ Changmin suddenly thinks to ask, pressing a palm to Yunho’s skin and finding it burning like the sun. ‘How long have you had a fever?’
Yunho opens his mouth but doesn’t speak, his condition deteriorating by the moment. Changmin feels his temper flare and pushes the servant to the side, the man rolling onto his back and lying limp beneath him. ‘I’m sorry,’ Yunho says again, his words tight and strained.
‘Why didn’t you rest properly?’ Changmin scolds, swallowing panic that burns his fear into anger. ‘You’re my property. How are you supposed to serve me if you’re unwell? Don’t you know it’s your duty to take care of yourself as one of my belongings?’
Yunho’s face is pinched with pain, sweat forming down his neck and dampening his locks. He looks at Changmin with repentance and shame- Yunho’s such a loyal servant, dedicated to the throne. When Changmin was younger he asked the man if he minded sacrificing his own livelihood to serve him. Yunho had reassured him as a child that he was simply born to serve Changmin and could not imagine a life without the honour. Pretty words to please him, no doubt but Changmin wonders if there isn’t a hint of truth to them. Yunho’s eyes never stray from Changmin.
‘I’m sorry, my prince,’ Yunho says weakly, his hands clenching the sheets until his knuckles are bone white.
Changmin growls, quickly plucking Yunho’s clothes from the floor and guiding limp limbs into them. ‘I won’t forgive you, if you die,’ he threatens, willing Yunho to be strong. When his servant is dressed, Changmin calls for the other men in his service and moves back to his spot by the window. As the men fill the room, Changmin barely turns to glance at them. ‘My servant is ill, you will call for the healers immediately,’ he orders and watches in the window’s reflection as one bows and rushes from the room. The other two men check Yunho’s body, the broader of the two lifting the man easily into his arms.
‘We will move him to his chambers and have the healers treat him there, if it pleases your Highness,’ the servant assures him, waiting for Changmin’s permission to leave the room.
Changmin nods. ‘Send a maid to draw a bath on your way,’ he stares hard into the glass, Yunho’s sickly pallor reflected startlingly.
‘As you wish, your Highness,’ the other man bows low.
Changmin’s words stop them at the doorway. ‘See to it that Yunho receives the upmost care. If he dies, I will have you all executed,’ he advises, voice cold.
‘Yes, your Highness,’ the men stutter, bowing again before rushing from the room, leaving Changmin alone to admire the view of the royal gardens from his window.
A/N: Day 3 of the monthly spam.