I Always Love You Like This [1/5]
Pairing: Jongin/Chanyeol
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: curse words, minor side character deaths (not graphic)
Summary: Chanyeol and Jongin can’t help but keep coming back together.
Word Count: 25,997
This is crossposted from here
Title taken from 항상 난 그래 (I’m Always Like This) by Ambler
╔╗
Chanyeol hates this.
He hates this crummy ceremony and his stupid robes and his tight, itchy collar. He’s supposed to be seeing off the space ship headed for Earth, giving the journey his princely blessing with his presence, but instead he’s staring past it at the smaller of Vangel’s two suns and squinting at the glare. The brightness gives him something else to focus on, something other than his best friend flying further and further away from him; he can feel fat tears welling up in his eyes but he balls his fists and holds them back. Other ten year olds might cry when they lose a friend, but Chanyeol is not a normal ten year old.
A band strikes up behind him, all loud horns and whistling flutes to signify that the ship is high enough to clear the atmosphere. The King and Queen leave first, and then the people disperse, headed home to change into just as colorful but less formal clothing and begin their work for the day, and cold terror grips the young prince’s heart. His best friend is gone. Chanyeol turns and runs into the castle and up the wide stone stairs to the tallest tower, sure footed after years of training to be a warrior. His heart pounds in his ears in time with his footfalls, and it almost sounds like gone gone gone is echoing through the hall at every step. He rushes into his observatory- their observatory, swings the wide telescope up to the ship, and sobs aloud. There, standing in the ships round window, is a boy holding a sign. He can’t see it in the scope but he knows those eyes are liquid warmth, wet and brown; what he can see are the words scribbled awkwardly on the page in overly large letters. I’ll never forget you, Yeol. I love you. The ship finally hits warp speed, seemingly snatched away into space. Chanyeol doesn’t make a sound as he crumples down to the floor, away from prying eyes and tutors who want him to stand up straight. He cries and he mourns for his friend in desperately, eventually roughly knuckling his tears away with small fists. After all, neither of them are dead, they’re just apart. And one day, he’ll be head Marksman, and he’ll be able to go wherever he wants, and they won’t have to be apart anymore. The little meal time bell sitting on his desk spins up into the air on its own, and gives three smart rings before settling down again: it’s dinner time. The bell in the town square echoes it and Chanyeol looks out the window one more time on his way out of the room and whispers his own message.
I won’t forget you either, and I’ll find you again, honest. I love you too, Jongin.
╔╗
Chanyeol stood on the balcony overlooking the training ground he’d spent his adolescence practicing on. He watched carefully as the latest groups of applicants went through the motions meant to focus magic energy. Junmyeon, a local Sentry, coached the applicants through the proper posture of each stance. He was strict and demanding but it was in their own best interest; a citizen of Vangel could only Apply once, and it was imperative that the ability to use magic be shown. It would be a shame if someone held the spark but failed as an applicant because of improper footing. After a minute longer of observing, the prince stepped away from the balcony and into his study, balcony doors gliding shut with a crook of his finger. He seated himself in the chair he used to receive visitors and folded his hands in his lap. It took so little effort for him to animate the tea service into preparing two cups that he closed his eyes to rest. Warm water poured from the suspended kettle into two cups, the kettle settling just as a spoon of honey rose, making trips until each cup had been visited. Two flower heads were plucked from the plant in the corner of the room, passed through a small water bath to rinse them, and then landed in the tea cups to steep. The last of the ripples faded and Chanyeol opened his eyes just in time for his friend and closest advisor to walk in.
Jongdae paused at the sweet aroma in the air, and looked down to see his favorite tea brewing. Behind his friend Chanyeol could hear maids further down the stairwell gossiping.
“Honestly, things have been horrible since the Queen died. If only the General Supreme hadn’t been so attached to her, then one of them could have survived.”
“I agree; this consort thing will be the downfall of our empire.”
Jongdae shut the door behind him and flopped into the chair across from Chanyeol with a scowl. Neither of them mentioned the maids.
“I want you to know, really understand and know how creepy it is that you always have my tea ready as soon as I walk in.”
“It’s alright to just say thank you, Jongdae.”
“Mm. Fight me.” Pausing to take a long sip of the sweet flower brew, Jongdae leaned forward to talk again. “You know, you can’t keep ignoring the king’s summons.”
“I can and I will.”
“Chanyeol, look-”
“No you look, Jongdae. I am phoenix born with fire in my blood, and I Know a great many things. I Know. I Know who’s coming up the stairs to my tower, I Know when you have time for tea and when you’re in a hurry, I Know when over half of the applicants fail to show any signs of holding the spark and don’t get to progress to the fighting aptitude test. Just like I Know that the king wants me to marry for politics and thinks if he keeps it secret till we have an audience I won’t refuse him.”
Jongdae sat quietly, turning the tea cup in his hands. He watched the petals swirl in the liquid before setting the cup down and looking his friend in the eye. Chanyeol hadn’t changed posture since Jongdae had entered but he could tell the younger, taller man was getting irritated. He tried to keep his tone calm and neutral.
“It wouldn’t be a bad future, Yeol. She’s a good girl, from one of our better out posts on a good planet. They don’t have a head Sentry yet, and you’d do well there.”
“What business do I have ruling a city or being head Sentry?”
“You’re a prince, Chanyeol, son of the late queen.”
“I am a Marksman, Jongdae, son of the late General Supreme.”
Jongdae sighed as he slumped backwards, one finger pressed to the bridge of his nose. Trying to calm down before rehashing this argument, he looked around the room; though sparse compared to other rooms in the castle it was still lavish. The tapestry Chanyeol had woven when he was 15 hung on one wall, the scene shifting show various parts of the castle compound in real time. His various swords and axes all sat on racks in one corner, perfectly polished, clean and battle ready. The wall to wall carpeting was thick and lush, and the wooden paneling hiding the stone walls of the castle gave off a warm glow of enchanted light. Jongdae’s gaze came to rest on the small model of the Vangel Empire floating in the corner of Chanyeol’s desk. The planets and moons within the empire were all scaled to size, rotating in their orbits over the inkwell and fountain pen stand. The spinning motion focused him, and he inhaled, ready to try, for what felt like the millionth time since they were children, to win a battle of words.
“Are you finally ready to try to convince me of something we both know I don’t believe?”
“Shut up, Chanyeol. Why can’t you just go along with this? Things have been rough since our General Supreme perished trying to protect the Queen on their trip to this colony. The balance of everything in existence shifted towards Greater Evil then, and you know it. We won’t be able to truly rebalance things until the next important Moment comes, and we need the best Sentries out there watching for it.”
Chanyeol finally breaks his pose and leans forward, fingertips pressed against the table in between them.
“Exactly. So the best Sentries will keep watch. They will alert us to the brewing of potential Moments, and when one arises the Empire will need its strongest Marksman to go tip it for The Good.”
“Your humbleness astounds me Your Majesty.”
“Don’t address me as royalty, Jongdae.”
“But you are!” Jongdae tries to slam the tea cup down on the table but the surface gives under his pressure like a pillow, hardening again to support the cup when he lets go and ruining any emphasis the gesture may have had. Jongdae grimaces at his friend’s smirk, knowing he did it but not rising to the bait, “You are royalty. We have plenty of Marksmen who can tip the next Moment when it comes, but until it does come we all need to focus on pushing the smaller moments in life for good. It would do a lot to help maintain things if you would take care of these moments: an intergalactic courting, a royal wedding, a firm sense of order and authority in a far off colony.”
“That’s not my place Jongdae. The King has his own consort, a duchess, and plenty of fully royal children between them. Yifan is even older than I, and has trained and prepared to rule since birth. Why not send him?”
“Because Yifan is meant to rule here when the King steps down.”
“Then send Minseok.”
“Chanyeol-”
Jongdae cuts off as warm hands grip his shoulders and press assuringly.
“Jongdae, I do not wish to be a king, or a prince, or a ruler, or a Sentry. My parents were an anomaly- it’s not usual for the queen to choose to marry the head of her military instead of the co-head of her state. And I won’t allow the King to bully me into giving up my inheritance. I don’t know what is meant for me, but I know I won’t find it on that out post.”
Jongdae stares hard at his friend. The quiet stretches between them, and eventually Jongdae finds whatever he was searching for in Chanyeol’s face because he leans back and then stands.
“As your advisor, I can only suggest certain courses of action to you. I know I won’t convince you to leave, but it will cause a strain if you ignore the King for much longer.”
Chanyeol nods his understanding, “Tell the King I will meet him tomorrow evening. There are five bells before dinner; I’ll meet him directly at the third ring.”
Jongdae is out of his Warrior Prince’s tower and halfway across the compound to the King’s quarters when it occurs to him that Chanyeol is never this accommodating. He only hopes that whatever tricks his old friend is up to, it isn’t anything too wild.
╔╗
Jongdae stands in the corner of the throne room staring straight ahead. The King’s face is going red with anger, and Jongdae wants to only be a shadow in the King’s mind when the monarch explodes.
In the town square the bell to finish up the day’s work rang out, and the King’s processional entered into the throne room, arranging themselves as imposingly and as impressively as possible. His wife, the duchess, followed behind him with her own ladies and after she seated herself at his right hand the fanned out to stand at her feet.
When the bell to officially head home from work tolled, the representative of the outpost and the diplomat responsible for Chanyeol’s would-be-fiancée entered the room and greeted the King, before moving to line up along the side wall to the throne’s right. Every one of the members of the court wore smug faces, sure that with such an intimidating display, they would have a royal engagement to get drunk over by the end of the evening meal.
The bell to wash up for the meal echoed, and as one the room had turned to face the double doors opposite the throne and receive Prince Chanyeol, but the doors didn’t open.
The bell to be seated at the table pealed, and a low buzz simmered in the ranks of the elite. Whispers questioning the King’s control of his household, scoffing at the Prince’s disrespect, wondering who had the real authority in the castle keep floated around, and the King’s visage grew stony.
The bell to begin eating is drawing closer, and Jongdae wills Chanyeol to come through the doors before it rings with an excuse to pacify everyone. Chanyeol is stubborn and determined, but he’s never been a liar, nor has he made promises he didn’t think he could keep. Those facts alone keep Jongdae hoping that the evening can still be saved. The air in the throne room gets thicker and thicker with tension; the King leans forward on his dais, coiled as if he meant to launch himself at the doors.
Deng…Deng…Deng...
“YIFAN! JONGDAE!”
The King bellows, and Jongdae trips forward, racing after His Majesty, His retinue, and the Crown Prince. The group rushes out of the King’s keep and across the courtyard, towards the stairs to Chanyeol’s private quarters, all the while entreating the King to have some decorum.
“Your Majesty, please!”
“Your Grace, please consider your image, slow down!”
“Your Highness, calm down or you may lash out at the Prince, please!”
Yifan says nothing, and Jongdae makes no such plea, preferring to spend his time screaming in his head in hopes that his far Knowing friend hear him and run. He nearly runs into the back of the senior advisor ahead of him when the King halts at the foot of Chanyeol’s stairs and whirls around. He points at two of the men and then at another three and then at one more.
“You two- go check the stables and be sure he hasn’t ridden off. You three, check the flight field. Be sure that all of our land flight crafts and all of the starcruisers are accounted for. You, go check the military’s training grounds.”
The men hurry off to do as commanded, leaving the King alone with two of his advisors, his eldest son, and Jongdae. The King eyes them all in turn before growling out, “Follow me.”
When they get to the top floor, any calm the King had vanishes. He kicks open doors as he walks down the hall, pushing servants who move too slowly for his liking aside. Jongdae tries to attend to each servant who gets tossed down while keeping up with his ruler, flinching at the noise every time a door slams open. The small group moves after the King, past Chanyeol’s study, then past his library. His training room. His meeting parlor. They finally reach his bedroom, and the King kicks that door open too. This time, however, they all pause.
The normally neat space is tossed into disarray. Clothes are scattered across the bed and floor, books lie open, and drawers full of travel supplies have been upended all over the room. On top of the dresser lies a letter; Jongdae moves to pick it up, and begins to read aloud.
Prince Chanyeol,
You are not my son; we both know that, and have known it for all of your life. Your mother the Queen, may she reign over celestials, chose her love and left me free to choose my own. And for that, for Her grace and Her beauty and Her dignity and wisdom as a ruler, I respected and loved her very much. We are all bereft with her loss. The attack was a tragedy and we never did find the perpetrators. My Prince- nay, My Marksman, new evidence has reached my ears. There is no solid proof yet, but it is reasonable to believe that a rebel group hidden in the Tora Quadrant of the Planet Jansp’s orbit was responsible for the attack. It is of the utmost importance that you move to the area with haste and investigate. I will cover your absence from our meeting, and see to the cleanup of your room. Waste no time organizing; pack and leave now in a solo starcruiser. Turn off the starcruiser’s tracking system; stay off the grid and under the radar so the rebels don’t hunt you down before you find them. I await whatever information you find.
His Royal Majesty
King Gongyoo, the Upright
King Gongyoo’s face pales with every word read aloud. One of the senior advisors snatches the letter from Jongdae’s hands even as he reads the King’s title, pushing his nose close to the paper.
“Sire… this is in your hand,” he flips the parchment over to peer at the red circle that held it closed “and this is your seal.”
The King’s instantly flushes again, and he shakes with indignance. “Advisor. Are you accusing me of writing and sending this letter, and sabotaging my own matchmaking?”
The advisor freezes where he stands, babbling to explain, not even noticing Yifan’s approach until the crown prince plucks the letter from his hands. The taller man reads through the paper carefully.
“This penmanship is much like yours, Father, but it is not exact. The l’s are wrong, as are the o’s. This seal is slightly off as well. They’re imperfect enough that you, or I, or mother would notice, but anyone you don’t write often would be fooled by this.”
At that exact moment, the six advisors the King had sent away return, out of breath and with clothes disarrayed.
“The horses are all here, Sire.”
“The Prince is not in the military’s sector, Your Highness.”
“Your Grace, one of the starcruisers is missing.”
The King thinks before addressing the room.
“No one is to know where the Prince has gone. It is critical that we find out who forged this letter to send him away, where he is now, and how to get him back without letting on that he’s in any danger at all.” He turns to his son, “Yifan, I need you to go smooth things over in the throne room. Explain however you can,” and then to his advisors, “Find whoever did this, and bring the Phoenix Born back alive.” Sure that his group understands, he looks to Jongdae. “Get this room cleaned up, and go through everything here. Try to find any sign of where he may have headed first. The Tora Quadrant is light-years in size and we need to narrow our search.”
Jongdae nods his understanding, and King Gongyoo whirls the group out of Chanyeol’s room and out of the tower. Servants come in to help organize things into piles Jongdae can sort through, apparently having overheard the King. Jongdae moves to work as if in a haze, truly concerned for where his friend might be.
╔╗
Chanyeol whoops in the cramped compartment of the control unit as he guides the starcruiser through deep space. He’s got a little further to go before he can turn on the autopilot without giving away his position, even with the tracking system off. The autopilot creates a trail of exhaust that looks like a vaporous asteroid belt. He’s in the dark so no one can see him, but if citizens of the planets so near to Vangel start gossiping about flickering asteroids appearing in the sky the capital would be sure to hear of it. Secret missions should not be heard of.
He can’t believe he made it out in such a crunch without being seen; well, he can believe it, but pulling it off is still a rush. He beats his ink stained hands against the steering wheel to a rhythm in his head, and bits of red wax flake off his fingers. Chanyeol urges the starcruiser forward, putting more space between himself and his home planet. A beep tells him he’s finally gone far enough to turn on the autopilot, and he keys in his destination before heading into the middle compartment to sleep. The starcruiser completely misses the turn for the warp hole to Jansp. Blinking in the corner of the navigation pad, the destination reads Earth.
next
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: curse words, minor side character deaths (not graphic)
Summary: Chanyeol and Jongin can’t help but keep coming back together.
Word Count: 25,997
This is crossposted from here
Title taken from 항상 난 그래 (I’m Always Like This) by Ambler
╔╗
Chanyeol hates this.
He hates this crummy ceremony and his stupid robes and his tight, itchy collar. He’s supposed to be seeing off the space ship headed for Earth, giving the journey his princely blessing with his presence, but instead he’s staring past it at the smaller of Vangel’s two suns and squinting at the glare. The brightness gives him something else to focus on, something other than his best friend flying further and further away from him; he can feel fat tears welling up in his eyes but he balls his fists and holds them back. Other ten year olds might cry when they lose a friend, but Chanyeol is not a normal ten year old.
A band strikes up behind him, all loud horns and whistling flutes to signify that the ship is high enough to clear the atmosphere. The King and Queen leave first, and then the people disperse, headed home to change into just as colorful but less formal clothing and begin their work for the day, and cold terror grips the young prince’s heart. His best friend is gone. Chanyeol turns and runs into the castle and up the wide stone stairs to the tallest tower, sure footed after years of training to be a warrior. His heart pounds in his ears in time with his footfalls, and it almost sounds like gone gone gone is echoing through the hall at every step. He rushes into his observatory- their observatory, swings the wide telescope up to the ship, and sobs aloud. There, standing in the ships round window, is a boy holding a sign. He can’t see it in the scope but he knows those eyes are liquid warmth, wet and brown; what he can see are the words scribbled awkwardly on the page in overly large letters. I’ll never forget you, Yeol. I love you. The ship finally hits warp speed, seemingly snatched away into space. Chanyeol doesn’t make a sound as he crumples down to the floor, away from prying eyes and tutors who want him to stand up straight. He cries and he mourns for his friend in desperately, eventually roughly knuckling his tears away with small fists. After all, neither of them are dead, they’re just apart. And one day, he’ll be head Marksman, and he’ll be able to go wherever he wants, and they won’t have to be apart anymore. The little meal time bell sitting on his desk spins up into the air on its own, and gives three smart rings before settling down again: it’s dinner time. The bell in the town square echoes it and Chanyeol looks out the window one more time on his way out of the room and whispers his own message.
I won’t forget you either, and I’ll find you again, honest. I love you too, Jongin.
╔╗
Chanyeol stood on the balcony overlooking the training ground he’d spent his adolescence practicing on. He watched carefully as the latest groups of applicants went through the motions meant to focus magic energy. Junmyeon, a local Sentry, coached the applicants through the proper posture of each stance. He was strict and demanding but it was in their own best interest; a citizen of Vangel could only Apply once, and it was imperative that the ability to use magic be shown. It would be a shame if someone held the spark but failed as an applicant because of improper footing. After a minute longer of observing, the prince stepped away from the balcony and into his study, balcony doors gliding shut with a crook of his finger. He seated himself in the chair he used to receive visitors and folded his hands in his lap. It took so little effort for him to animate the tea service into preparing two cups that he closed his eyes to rest. Warm water poured from the suspended kettle into two cups, the kettle settling just as a spoon of honey rose, making trips until each cup had been visited. Two flower heads were plucked from the plant in the corner of the room, passed through a small water bath to rinse them, and then landed in the tea cups to steep. The last of the ripples faded and Chanyeol opened his eyes just in time for his friend and closest advisor to walk in.
Jongdae paused at the sweet aroma in the air, and looked down to see his favorite tea brewing. Behind his friend Chanyeol could hear maids further down the stairwell gossiping.
“Honestly, things have been horrible since the Queen died. If only the General Supreme hadn’t been so attached to her, then one of them could have survived.”
“I agree; this consort thing will be the downfall of our empire.”
Jongdae shut the door behind him and flopped into the chair across from Chanyeol with a scowl. Neither of them mentioned the maids.
“I want you to know, really understand and know how creepy it is that you always have my tea ready as soon as I walk in.”
“It’s alright to just say thank you, Jongdae.”
“Mm. Fight me.” Pausing to take a long sip of the sweet flower brew, Jongdae leaned forward to talk again. “You know, you can’t keep ignoring the king’s summons.”
“I can and I will.”
“Chanyeol, look-”
“No you look, Jongdae. I am phoenix born with fire in my blood, and I Know a great many things. I Know. I Know who’s coming up the stairs to my tower, I Know when you have time for tea and when you’re in a hurry, I Know when over half of the applicants fail to show any signs of holding the spark and don’t get to progress to the fighting aptitude test. Just like I Know that the king wants me to marry for politics and thinks if he keeps it secret till we have an audience I won’t refuse him.”
Jongdae sat quietly, turning the tea cup in his hands. He watched the petals swirl in the liquid before setting the cup down and looking his friend in the eye. Chanyeol hadn’t changed posture since Jongdae had entered but he could tell the younger, taller man was getting irritated. He tried to keep his tone calm and neutral.
“It wouldn’t be a bad future, Yeol. She’s a good girl, from one of our better out posts on a good planet. They don’t have a head Sentry yet, and you’d do well there.”
“What business do I have ruling a city or being head Sentry?”
“You’re a prince, Chanyeol, son of the late queen.”
“I am a Marksman, Jongdae, son of the late General Supreme.”
Jongdae sighed as he slumped backwards, one finger pressed to the bridge of his nose. Trying to calm down before rehashing this argument, he looked around the room; though sparse compared to other rooms in the castle it was still lavish. The tapestry Chanyeol had woven when he was 15 hung on one wall, the scene shifting show various parts of the castle compound in real time. His various swords and axes all sat on racks in one corner, perfectly polished, clean and battle ready. The wall to wall carpeting was thick and lush, and the wooden paneling hiding the stone walls of the castle gave off a warm glow of enchanted light. Jongdae’s gaze came to rest on the small model of the Vangel Empire floating in the corner of Chanyeol’s desk. The planets and moons within the empire were all scaled to size, rotating in their orbits over the inkwell and fountain pen stand. The spinning motion focused him, and he inhaled, ready to try, for what felt like the millionth time since they were children, to win a battle of words.
“Are you finally ready to try to convince me of something we both know I don’t believe?”
“Shut up, Chanyeol. Why can’t you just go along with this? Things have been rough since our General Supreme perished trying to protect the Queen on their trip to this colony. The balance of everything in existence shifted towards Greater Evil then, and you know it. We won’t be able to truly rebalance things until the next important Moment comes, and we need the best Sentries out there watching for it.”
Chanyeol finally breaks his pose and leans forward, fingertips pressed against the table in between them.
“Exactly. So the best Sentries will keep watch. They will alert us to the brewing of potential Moments, and when one arises the Empire will need its strongest Marksman to go tip it for The Good.”
“Your humbleness astounds me Your Majesty.”
“Don’t address me as royalty, Jongdae.”
“But you are!” Jongdae tries to slam the tea cup down on the table but the surface gives under his pressure like a pillow, hardening again to support the cup when he lets go and ruining any emphasis the gesture may have had. Jongdae grimaces at his friend’s smirk, knowing he did it but not rising to the bait, “You are royalty. We have plenty of Marksmen who can tip the next Moment when it comes, but until it does come we all need to focus on pushing the smaller moments in life for good. It would do a lot to help maintain things if you would take care of these moments: an intergalactic courting, a royal wedding, a firm sense of order and authority in a far off colony.”
“That’s not my place Jongdae. The King has his own consort, a duchess, and plenty of fully royal children between them. Yifan is even older than I, and has trained and prepared to rule since birth. Why not send him?”
“Because Yifan is meant to rule here when the King steps down.”
“Then send Minseok.”
“Chanyeol-”
Jongdae cuts off as warm hands grip his shoulders and press assuringly.
“Jongdae, I do not wish to be a king, or a prince, or a ruler, or a Sentry. My parents were an anomaly- it’s not usual for the queen to choose to marry the head of her military instead of the co-head of her state. And I won’t allow the King to bully me into giving up my inheritance. I don’t know what is meant for me, but I know I won’t find it on that out post.”
Jongdae stares hard at his friend. The quiet stretches between them, and eventually Jongdae finds whatever he was searching for in Chanyeol’s face because he leans back and then stands.
“As your advisor, I can only suggest certain courses of action to you. I know I won’t convince you to leave, but it will cause a strain if you ignore the King for much longer.”
Chanyeol nods his understanding, “Tell the King I will meet him tomorrow evening. There are five bells before dinner; I’ll meet him directly at the third ring.”
Jongdae is out of his Warrior Prince’s tower and halfway across the compound to the King’s quarters when it occurs to him that Chanyeol is never this accommodating. He only hopes that whatever tricks his old friend is up to, it isn’t anything too wild.
╔╗
Jongdae stands in the corner of the throne room staring straight ahead. The King’s face is going red with anger, and Jongdae wants to only be a shadow in the King’s mind when the monarch explodes.
In the town square the bell to finish up the day’s work rang out, and the King’s processional entered into the throne room, arranging themselves as imposingly and as impressively as possible. His wife, the duchess, followed behind him with her own ladies and after she seated herself at his right hand the fanned out to stand at her feet.
When the bell to officially head home from work tolled, the representative of the outpost and the diplomat responsible for Chanyeol’s would-be-fiancée entered the room and greeted the King, before moving to line up along the side wall to the throne’s right. Every one of the members of the court wore smug faces, sure that with such an intimidating display, they would have a royal engagement to get drunk over by the end of the evening meal.
The bell to wash up for the meal echoed, and as one the room had turned to face the double doors opposite the throne and receive Prince Chanyeol, but the doors didn’t open.
The bell to be seated at the table pealed, and a low buzz simmered in the ranks of the elite. Whispers questioning the King’s control of his household, scoffing at the Prince’s disrespect, wondering who had the real authority in the castle keep floated around, and the King’s visage grew stony.
The bell to begin eating is drawing closer, and Jongdae wills Chanyeol to come through the doors before it rings with an excuse to pacify everyone. Chanyeol is stubborn and determined, but he’s never been a liar, nor has he made promises he didn’t think he could keep. Those facts alone keep Jongdae hoping that the evening can still be saved. The air in the throne room gets thicker and thicker with tension; the King leans forward on his dais, coiled as if he meant to launch himself at the doors.
Deng…Deng…Deng...
“YIFAN! JONGDAE!”
The King bellows, and Jongdae trips forward, racing after His Majesty, His retinue, and the Crown Prince. The group rushes out of the King’s keep and across the courtyard, towards the stairs to Chanyeol’s private quarters, all the while entreating the King to have some decorum.
“Your Majesty, please!”
“Your Grace, please consider your image, slow down!”
“Your Highness, calm down or you may lash out at the Prince, please!”
Yifan says nothing, and Jongdae makes no such plea, preferring to spend his time screaming in his head in hopes that his far Knowing friend hear him and run. He nearly runs into the back of the senior advisor ahead of him when the King halts at the foot of Chanyeol’s stairs and whirls around. He points at two of the men and then at another three and then at one more.
“You two- go check the stables and be sure he hasn’t ridden off. You three, check the flight field. Be sure that all of our land flight crafts and all of the starcruisers are accounted for. You, go check the military’s training grounds.”
The men hurry off to do as commanded, leaving the King alone with two of his advisors, his eldest son, and Jongdae. The King eyes them all in turn before growling out, “Follow me.”
When they get to the top floor, any calm the King had vanishes. He kicks open doors as he walks down the hall, pushing servants who move too slowly for his liking aside. Jongdae tries to attend to each servant who gets tossed down while keeping up with his ruler, flinching at the noise every time a door slams open. The small group moves after the King, past Chanyeol’s study, then past his library. His training room. His meeting parlor. They finally reach his bedroom, and the King kicks that door open too. This time, however, they all pause.
The normally neat space is tossed into disarray. Clothes are scattered across the bed and floor, books lie open, and drawers full of travel supplies have been upended all over the room. On top of the dresser lies a letter; Jongdae moves to pick it up, and begins to read aloud.
Prince Chanyeol,
You are not my son; we both know that, and have known it for all of your life. Your mother the Queen, may she reign over celestials, chose her love and left me free to choose my own. And for that, for Her grace and Her beauty and Her dignity and wisdom as a ruler, I respected and loved her very much. We are all bereft with her loss. The attack was a tragedy and we never did find the perpetrators. My Prince- nay, My Marksman, new evidence has reached my ears. There is no solid proof yet, but it is reasonable to believe that a rebel group hidden in the Tora Quadrant of the Planet Jansp’s orbit was responsible for the attack. It is of the utmost importance that you move to the area with haste and investigate. I will cover your absence from our meeting, and see to the cleanup of your room. Waste no time organizing; pack and leave now in a solo starcruiser. Turn off the starcruiser’s tracking system; stay off the grid and under the radar so the rebels don’t hunt you down before you find them. I await whatever information you find.
His Royal Majesty
King Gongyoo, the Upright
King Gongyoo’s face pales with every word read aloud. One of the senior advisors snatches the letter from Jongdae’s hands even as he reads the King’s title, pushing his nose close to the paper.
“Sire… this is in your hand,” he flips the parchment over to peer at the red circle that held it closed “and this is your seal.”
The King’s instantly flushes again, and he shakes with indignance. “Advisor. Are you accusing me of writing and sending this letter, and sabotaging my own matchmaking?”
The advisor freezes where he stands, babbling to explain, not even noticing Yifan’s approach until the crown prince plucks the letter from his hands. The taller man reads through the paper carefully.
“This penmanship is much like yours, Father, but it is not exact. The l’s are wrong, as are the o’s. This seal is slightly off as well. They’re imperfect enough that you, or I, or mother would notice, but anyone you don’t write often would be fooled by this.”
At that exact moment, the six advisors the King had sent away return, out of breath and with clothes disarrayed.
“The horses are all here, Sire.”
“The Prince is not in the military’s sector, Your Highness.”
“Your Grace, one of the starcruisers is missing.”
The King thinks before addressing the room.
“No one is to know where the Prince has gone. It is critical that we find out who forged this letter to send him away, where he is now, and how to get him back without letting on that he’s in any danger at all.” He turns to his son, “Yifan, I need you to go smooth things over in the throne room. Explain however you can,” and then to his advisors, “Find whoever did this, and bring the Phoenix Born back alive.” Sure that his group understands, he looks to Jongdae. “Get this room cleaned up, and go through everything here. Try to find any sign of where he may have headed first. The Tora Quadrant is light-years in size and we need to narrow our search.”
Jongdae nods his understanding, and King Gongyoo whirls the group out of Chanyeol’s room and out of the tower. Servants come in to help organize things into piles Jongdae can sort through, apparently having overheard the King. Jongdae moves to work as if in a haze, truly concerned for where his friend might be.
╔╗
Chanyeol whoops in the cramped compartment of the control unit as he guides the starcruiser through deep space. He’s got a little further to go before he can turn on the autopilot without giving away his position, even with the tracking system off. The autopilot creates a trail of exhaust that looks like a vaporous asteroid belt. He’s in the dark so no one can see him, but if citizens of the planets so near to Vangel start gossiping about flickering asteroids appearing in the sky the capital would be sure to hear of it. Secret missions should not be heard of.
He can’t believe he made it out in such a crunch without being seen; well, he can believe it, but pulling it off is still a rush. He beats his ink stained hands against the steering wheel to a rhythm in his head, and bits of red wax flake off his fingers. Chanyeol urges the starcruiser forward, putting more space between himself and his home planet. A beep tells him he’s finally gone far enough to turn on the autopilot, and he keys in his destination before heading into the middle compartment to sleep. The starcruiser completely misses the turn for the warp hole to Jansp. Blinking in the corner of the navigation pad, the destination reads Earth.
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