Blood Ties (Chapter 2)
Title: Blood Ties
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU
Length: Chaptered
Summary: They were born to different worlds: one to rule, the other to serve. A twist of fate united them in a bond that was not only taboo, it was forbidden. With danger constantly nipping at their heels, they must fight not only for their own survival but that of the people that depend upon them. Will their love survive the coming battle? Will they?
Yunho’s face was a mask of horror as he felt Jaejoong go limp in his arms, his eyes rolling up into their sockets before they closed completely. His breathing, what he could feel of it, was faint.
Shock rippled throughout the hall, everyone in attendance jumping to their feet as they saw their Prince go down. Several members of the royal family made their way towards Yunho but no one moved faster than the King, who was at Yunho’s side almost as soon as Jaejoong collapsed.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“I…I don’t know,” Yunho sputtered. “He was fine and then he staggered back as if he was choking except…he wasn’t. He’d only taken a couple of sips of…” His eyes widened as realization hit him. “The wine!”
King Gregori picked up the shattered stem of the wineglass and sniffed. He trailed a finger through the spilled liquid and brought it to his tongue.
He immediately knew what it was.
“Sun root,” he stated flatly.
Everyone around them gasped.
“What?” Jaejoong’s sister, Grace, whispered. “How is that possible? There isn’t a tree within leagues of the palace.”
Sun root, so called because it was the only thing apart from sunlight that could kill a royal, or any vampire for that matter, had been outlawed in the kingdom for centuries. Many vampires alive in the present day had never even seen the tree that the root came from, though there had been a few instances throughout the decades when it would suspiciously find its way into some poor soul’s food. However, sun root was very unique. It needed to be steeped in order to draw out the poison. The longer it was steeped, the stronger the poison and from what Gregori had smelled and tasted, this poison was extremely potent which meant that someone had planned this long in advance and had only been waiting for the right opportunity to put their plan in motion.
Gregori stood, his face set in grim lines. “Take him to his chamber.”
____________________________________________________________________
Yunho sat at Jaejoong’s side, brow creased with worry as he looked down into is pale, lifeless face,.
He turned when he heard the door to Jaejoong’s chamber open and started to get to his feet when he saw the King but stopped when Gregori halted him with a wave of his hand.
“How is he?” the King asked.
“Still unconscious. The doctor was here and sent for the antidote but it seems that there isn’t any readily available. I guess it hasn’t been needed for a while.”
Gregori scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. Antidotes are supposed to be available for situations just like this. Calamity doesn’t call in advance, does it?”
Yunho bowed his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Father, how is he?” Grace asked as she rushed into the room, Jaejoong’s cousin and uncle at her heels.
Gregori didn’t answer her, though: he only continued to look down at his son. Jaejoong looked, for all intents and purposes, like he was in a deep sleep. The faint blue tinge around his mouth and the unnaturally slow beat of his heart were the only tell-tale signs that anything was amiss.
“Who would do such a thing?” Maynard, Jaejoong’s uncle, queried. “Why would anyone want to hurt the Prince?”
“The Robertsons?” Jaejoong’s cousin, Dylan, ventured.
Gregori shook his head. “They have nothing to gain by killing him. It is I who pose the greatest threat to them and had they wanted to kill me, they had ample opportunity while I was on their land to attempt to do so.”
“Do we know who gave him the wine?” Grace asked abruptly.
“The server, wasn’t it?” Maynard supplied.
“Didn’t she spill the wine on him, though?” Dylan commented.
“Oh, aye, she did.”
“Who gave him the second glass then?” Grace asked.
“I did.”
All eyes dropped to Yunho, who had otherwise been silent since Jaejoong’s sister entered the room.
Before Gregori could say anything, Grace jumped to Yunho’s defense.
“Father, it’s preposterous to even think…”
“Did I say I was?” her father interrupted sharply.
“But Uncle…” Dylan sounded hesitant. “We all know how close Yunho is to Jaejoong, however, if people find out that he was the one who gave him the wine and we do nothing, there will be public outrage. The last thing we need is to incite the masses.”
Gregori looked down upon the still head of his son’s best friend. They were an unlikely pair, a combination that many found offensive and inappropriate, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Yunho would never hurt a hair on Jaejoong’s head.
However, Dylan had a point.
“Guards!” he called.
His personal guards, who were never more than mere feet away from him, came into the room.
“Pending further investigation, Jung Yunho will be detained for the attempted murder of His Highness, Prince Jaejoong. Take him away.”
His life at the palace had not been an easy one.
Truthfully, he’d never expected it to be. He’d known what he was doing when he’d made the pledge on that fateful day. His parents had begged him not to fulfill it, begged him to pretend that it had never happened, especially when it seemed that Prince Jaejoong was giving him a way out by not enforcing it. However, he’d always been a man of his word, even at such a young age, so as soon as he’d finished going through the change and was back on his feet, he’d packed what little belongings he’d had and gone to the palace, leaving the only life he’d ever known behind.
He’d had to beg and plead to see the Prince and he’d been refused time and time again, the soldiers laughing as they literally kicked him down the palace steps as if he was a stray dog. He hadn’t given up, though: he didn’t know the meaning of failure. He’d stuck around until one day he’d managed to convince a maid to tell the Prince that he was there, had insisted that Jaejoong was expecting him. When Jaejoong came out, he’d dropped to his knees and repeated his pledge all over again, in front of everyone, and being that it was the palace steps, there were a lot of witnesses.
For his part, Jaejoong had been mortified.
“Why did you come here?” he’d asked. “Didn’t I release you from your promise? Are you daft?!”
He hadn’t said much after that, hadn’t had the chance to since the summons had come down just then:
The King, having apparently heard of the commotion outside, had requested Jaejoong’s presence. Both of them.
Jaejoong had pleaded with him one last time to turn around and go back home, saying that if he left, he would handle the situation with his father on his own. He hadn’t said a word, simply walked silently behind his new master.
From his first meeting with the King, the day when he’d almost died, he’d learned that he was an unsympathetic man.
“I told you that you should’ve let him die,” he’d said calmly upon hearing of his pledge to Jaejoong. “Your bleeding heart has only brought you trouble. You don’t need the likes him of dogging your steps waiting for the perfect opportunity to plant a knife in your back.”
“Father!” Jaejoong had exclaimed in shock.
“Your Majesty.” Somehow he’d had the courage to speak and look the man himself directly in the eye. “I would quicker cut out my own heart than harm a hair on the Prince’s head. I owe him my life. As a man and as his subject, I cannot leave this world without repaying the kindness he has shown me. Please allow me to do so.”
King Gregori had looked him over, his eyes calculating.
Finally, he’d said, “You will lay down your life for him? Even if it is guaranteed to cost you your own?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Without hesitation.”
“So be it,” Gregori had said with a small shrug. “It costs me nothing to grant you this chance you so desperately seek. If nothing else, it should be amusing. I should warn you, however, it is probably going to be harder on you than anyone else in the palace’s employ for you do not have the benefit of good breeding on your side. Thus, you have a lot more to prove.”
King Gregori’s words were prophetic. Life at the palace had turned out to be an unimaginable kind of hell. At least, in the beginning.
To be Jaejoong’s bodyguard, he’d had to train so he’d joined the ranks of young soldiers who would later serve in the King’s army and wherever else Gregori decided they would be useful. However, since he was not born of royal blood like the rest of them were, not even distantly, he was seen as being less than them and, as a result, had been treated as such. The commanders were harder on him than the others, verbally and physically abusive. He had not been allowed to sleep in the same barracks with the other trainees so for the first year, he’d slept on a rough pallet in the loft of the stable. And still, he refused to give up.
Finally, unable to quietly bear witness to his mistreatment anymore, Jaejoong had moved him into his bedroom. He’d arranged for a small cot to be setup against the wall by the door.
“It’s the best that I could do on short notice,” he’d explained, his cheeks lightly flushed in apology.
He had been ecstatic, not to mention touched. He’d never expected anything from Jaejoong, to be honest. The fact that he’d even saved him had been more than a subject could ever expect to receive from his future King.
Gregori had not been pleased when he’d heard of Jaejoong’s “interference” as he’d put it but Jaejoong had stood his ground, standing up to his father for what he’d later told him was the first time in his life. He hadn’t bothered to mention that Jaejoong had stood up to his father one time before: the night he’d saved his life. He’d been out of it but he’d heard enough of what was said and in his heart, he’d thanked Jaejoong for saving him twice that day.
“If he’s to be my bodyguard then he needs to be near me, with me. He can’t guard my body from the barracks, which he doesn’t even sleep in by the way,” Jaejoong had argued. “He works just as hard as the others, harder even since he’s treated so unfairly. He at least deserves a proper bed to sleep in.”
Gregori’s response had been as diplomatic as always. “There’s nothing I can do if the soldiers don’t feel comfortable sharing their quarters with someone of his…ilk. As you pointed out, they work hard and deserve a comfortable space. However, you are correct. He cannot serve you from such a distance. Very well, then. He may stay here with you. Do keep an eye on him, please. The last thing we need are the servants getting ideas about changing their status or wanting more than what they’re already so graciously given.”
Their relationship had been a little awkward at first: he doing his utmost to be the faithful aid to his Prince and Jaejoong being flustered by his constant presence, barring when he was training. After a while, however, Jaejoong started asking him about himself and his family and the life he’d had and the more he told, the more Jaejoong wanted to know. The Prince, it seemed, was rather intrigued with the life of the common man. Their relationship had eased into friendship and later developed into a kind of brotherhood, though he was always careful to maintain a personal distance whenever they had an audience or were out in public. Proprieties had to be maintained. It wasn’t always easy, however, since Jaejoong became more stubborn and willful as he grew older and he made no attempt to hide how close they were or how much he trusted and counted on him.
As the years passed and their bond grew, Jaejoong had literally become a part of his family, practically being adopted by his mother and father after he’d begun imposing on their modest household when simply hearing about them and their lives in the crofter’s village had ceased to be enough for the Prince’s incurable curiosity. It was understandable, he supposed, since he’d seen with his own eyes how un-enchanting the Prince’s life truly was and how much he lacked and missed what most commoners took for granted: a loving family. Especially a mother. It explained why Jaejoong had bonded so completely with his own.
He had felt complete then, happy to be able to give the Prince something that no one else could. He’d vowed to do whatever it took to keep Jaejoong safe and happy and smiling the way he did whenever he visited his parents’ house.
Laying on his back, Yunho opened his eyes and stared up at the grim ceiling of his prison cell. He supposed he should be grateful that the King thought enough of him and his position to put him in a detainment cell instead of the dungeon where the worst of the criminal elements were taken. He wasn’t sure if he would have done the same seeing as he wasn’t feeling too kindly towards himself at the moment.
He’d promised to protect Jaejoong, staked his life on it, and when the time had finally come for him to keep his word, he had been the messenger of death, handing Jaejoong the very instrument that put his life at risk.
If Jaejoong died…they wouldn’t have to kill him for he would gladly do the job himself. If Jaejoong died, his life would automatically be forfeit. He would simply have no reason to live.
“Please,” he whispered brokenly into the silence that surrounded him, wondering if he would ever see those smiling green eyes again. “Come back to me.”
Gregori came to an abrupt stop several feet from Jaejoong’s door, watching said door being closed as a dark-haired woman exited and made her way down the hall in the opposite direction.
Even from the back, she looked, and felt, familiar and as she rounded a corner, giving him a brief view of her profile, the feeling multiplied tenfold.
He was just about to follow her when someone called to him.
“Your Majesty.” The maid bowed in greeting as she came to a stop before him.
Gregori pushed back his irritation. “How is he?”
“There’s been no change, milord. If anything…” her voice trailed off on a sad note.
“Who was that woman?” he asked suddenly.
The maid frowned in confusion. “Woman, milord?”
“The one who just came out of the room. Pale, long hair to her waist,” he supplied impatiently.
The maid started to shake her head again and for a moment Gregori had to fight the urge to throttle her but then her brain apparently kicked in.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “It must be the healer.”
“Healer?” he repeated.
“Aye, milord. Since the doctor is having a hard time finding the antidote, he’s resorted to trying any and everything he can think of in the meantime. Someone told him about a healer from the crofter’s village so he sought her out and she was kind enough to come here posthaste.”
Gregori glanced back in the direction that she’d disappeared. Something about her was very familiar. He knew that the fact that he couldn’t immediately place her would bug him for quite some time. One way or another, he would figure it out, he promised.
Dismissing the maid, he turned towards his son’s room and reached for the door.
Grace sat by her brother’s bedside, holding his cool, lifeless hand to her cheek, hot tears silently flowing from her eyes.
If he died… She couldn’t bear the thought. He was one of the few good things in her life. Without him, she would be lost, would have nothing but dark, lonely days.
She hadn’t always felt that way. A long time ago, when she’d been a mere child, she had resented him, hated him even. She had blamed him for the death of their mother, who’d lived only long enough to bring her precious son into the world before passing onto the next life. Her mother had been her everything. She may be a Princess but that mattered not because she wasn’t a boy. She was the first born but she could never rule. Her father had anticipated, assumed even, that his first child would be male, thus he’d intended to name the child after himself. She imagined it had been quite a disappointment when she had popped out, literally. Gregori wouldn’t suit, naturally, so they’d quickly amended it to Grace. Her mother had insisted that it suited her because she was “beautiful, lovely and filled with warmth and kindness. You will be a strong leader.” Perhaps her mother had forgotten that as a girl, she could never be Queen, but her words had been cherished nonetheless.
And then she’d lost her.
Her apathy towards her baby brother had built until she’d decided that he needed to pay for what he’d done, what he’d stolen from her. Looking back, it was rather frightening to realize how dark her thoughts had been during that time, especially given her young age. Her grief had put her in a bad place. She’d even convinced herself that if he died, her own pain would go away. Two weeks after his birth, she’d gone into his nursery, waiting until she knew that it would be empty. It was the first time she would set eyes on him. And the last, if she had anything to say about it. The jeweled dagger in her small fist - a gift from her father on her first birthday - was not without purpose, after all. She’d drawn a chair up to the side of the crib and climbed onto it, clutching the dagger in both hands and raising it high above her head. She’d closed her eyes and thought of her mother for a minute, letting her pain guide her, but as soon as she opened her eyes and looked down at her victim, she’d frozen.
Hair the lightest shade of gold...
She remembered hearing that in passing as she walked through the halls but she’d been so lost in her misery that she hadn’t thought anything of it. She never imagined that it related to the baby.
His hair was pale, almost white, gold. His cheeks round, lips ruby red, nose pert. She’d thought that he was asleep but then he opened his eyes and she’d gasped, almost tumbling off the chair on which she stood.
Emerald green eyes shone up at her.
Mother’s eyes, she’d thought. He had their mother’s eyes.
She’d dropped her dagger and reached out to him, stroking his soft cheek. When he’d smiled, that beautiful toothless smile, her pain became a distant memory. He was just like her, like their mother, and even at such a young age, she knew that she had to protect him for his life would not be easy. It was different for her because she was a girl and though she had their mother’s pale hair and received those looks because of it, she had her father’s intense blue eyes so people could still see him in her. But Jaejoong, as the son and future Prince, would not be allowed those concessions. Their people did not like different and Jaejoong was entirely too different to ignore. Fathers expected their children, especially their sons, to look like them, to be them. Jaejoong was his mother’s son through and through. Their mother too had been unique but she was not of their people so that fact was overlooked, accepted in the way that one accepted someone with a disability. No one had ever thought that she would pass it on to her children, not with their father’s pure blood running through their veins. It was a kind of universal comeuppance, she supposed. It was the merest of punishments for all the sins their father had committed.
She’d vowed then and there that she would do whatever it took to make Jaejoong’s life more bearable for she knew that he had a tough road ahead. The people would accept him solely because they had to. He was the legitimate heir of the King, after all. But getting their father to accept him, to truly care for him…that would be the greatest feat of all.
Coming back to the present, she pressed a kiss to his limp hand and sent a prayer up to the heavens.
“Please, Jaejoongie, come back,” she whispered tearfully.
The door opening behind her brought her startled her out of her misery. She quickly dried her tears and placed Jaejoong’s hand back onto the bed before turning around.
“Father,” she greeted, rising to give a small curtsy.
“How is he?” Gregori asked yet again.
Grace’s lower lip trembled but she bit into it, stemming the deluge that threatened. “It doesn’t look good. His heartbeat is frighteningly slow and is growing increasingly slower by the hour. The doctor said that without the antidote, there’s no way that he’ll make it. And even with the antidote, at this juncture… We should start making preparations.” Her lip trembled again.
“What about that healer who was just here?” Gregori queried, stepping closer to the bed and looking down at his prone son.
“She said that she did all that she could. Now, it’s up to Jaejoong whether he wants to come back or not. She said that we should talk to him for though he doesn’t answer, he may still hear us.”
Gregori laughed harshly. “Typical. Nothing but hogwash and vague advice for what I’m sure must have cost the doctor a pretty coin. He should’ve known better than to turn to those people for help. They care for no one but themselves.” Turning to his daughter, he gestured towards the door. “I will stay with him for a time. You may leave. Your husband is looking for you.”
Grace started shaking her head. “But, Father, I…”
“Go,” Gregori said, his voice brooking no argument. “If I am to lose my sole heir then you’d better get to work on making me a new one.” His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been married for almost a decade and have yet to produce a grandchild. Do you not see to your husband’s needs? Is he not satisfied with you?”
Grace froze. She felt like she had been slapped. In truth, she hated her father more than she loved him but there was nothing that she could do about her situation. She might be a Princess but at the end of the day, she was just a pawn to be played with as her father saw fit. She wondered what he would say if he knew that her husband, the man he had carefully chosen for her, preferred the company of common tavern whores to his own wife. To be honest, the arrangement suited her perfectly. She’d been in love once and had had that love ripped away. She would rather be married to someone she despised than someone decent who cared for her, knowing that she would never return his feelings. She would never wish upon another what she had to deal with on a daily basis.
When Gregori raised an expectant brow, Grace curtsied once more and took her leave.
Jaejoong floated aimlessly along the current, no destination in mind.
He felt lighter than a speck of dust, no more substantial than a ray of light. It was serene, this feeling, this weightlessness. There were no judgments here, no expectations. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so…complete. Well, that technically wasn’t true. It had been, once upon a time, but ever since he had come into his life, everything had changed. Still, he liked this place. He didn’t think he would mind staying here. He…
“You have to go back,” a warm, feminine voice suddenly spoke.
It felt like it was coming from inside of him, in his head and his heart, his very being.
“Your journey has only just begun. It is not your time yet.”
Wait!, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. He had no form here, he simply existed. Still, he didn’t want to go back. He liked it here. He wanted…
“Please. Come back to me...”
That voice. He knew that voice.
Before he could think, before he could figure out who it belonged to, he felt himself being pulled, like a vacuum sucking him back into another time and space.
Die, my Prince. Die!
Jaejoong’s eyes opened, their brilliant green depths sharp and clear.
He didn’t need to orient himself, didn’t need to take stock of his surroundings. He remembered everything. Everything.
There was no time to be wasted, he thought as he levered himself up out of bed.
He had work to do.
Chapter 3
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU
Length: Chaptered
Summary: They were born to different worlds: one to rule, the other to serve. A twist of fate united them in a bond that was not only taboo, it was forbidden. With danger constantly nipping at their heels, they must fight not only for their own survival but that of the people that depend upon them. Will their love survive the coming battle? Will they?
Yunho’s face was a mask of horror as he felt Jaejoong go limp in his arms, his eyes rolling up into their sockets before they closed completely. His breathing, what he could feel of it, was faint.
Shock rippled throughout the hall, everyone in attendance jumping to their feet as they saw their Prince go down. Several members of the royal family made their way towards Yunho but no one moved faster than the King, who was at Yunho’s side almost as soon as Jaejoong collapsed.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“I…I don’t know,” Yunho sputtered. “He was fine and then he staggered back as if he was choking except…he wasn’t. He’d only taken a couple of sips of…” His eyes widened as realization hit him. “The wine!”
King Gregori picked up the shattered stem of the wineglass and sniffed. He trailed a finger through the spilled liquid and brought it to his tongue.
He immediately knew what it was.
“Sun root,” he stated flatly.
Everyone around them gasped.
“What?” Jaejoong’s sister, Grace, whispered. “How is that possible? There isn’t a tree within leagues of the palace.”
Sun root, so called because it was the only thing apart from sunlight that could kill a royal, or any vampire for that matter, had been outlawed in the kingdom for centuries. Many vampires alive in the present day had never even seen the tree that the root came from, though there had been a few instances throughout the decades when it would suspiciously find its way into some poor soul’s food. However, sun root was very unique. It needed to be steeped in order to draw out the poison. The longer it was steeped, the stronger the poison and from what Gregori had smelled and tasted, this poison was extremely potent which meant that someone had planned this long in advance and had only been waiting for the right opportunity to put their plan in motion.
Gregori stood, his face set in grim lines. “Take him to his chamber.”
____________________________________________________________________
Yunho sat at Jaejoong’s side, brow creased with worry as he looked down into is pale, lifeless face,.
He turned when he heard the door to Jaejoong’s chamber open and started to get to his feet when he saw the King but stopped when Gregori halted him with a wave of his hand.
“How is he?” the King asked.
“Still unconscious. The doctor was here and sent for the antidote but it seems that there isn’t any readily available. I guess it hasn’t been needed for a while.”
Gregori scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. Antidotes are supposed to be available for situations just like this. Calamity doesn’t call in advance, does it?”
Yunho bowed his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Father, how is he?” Grace asked as she rushed into the room, Jaejoong’s cousin and uncle at her heels.
Gregori didn’t answer her, though: he only continued to look down at his son. Jaejoong looked, for all intents and purposes, like he was in a deep sleep. The faint blue tinge around his mouth and the unnaturally slow beat of his heart were the only tell-tale signs that anything was amiss.
“Who would do such a thing?” Maynard, Jaejoong’s uncle, queried. “Why would anyone want to hurt the Prince?”
“The Robertsons?” Jaejoong’s cousin, Dylan, ventured.
Gregori shook his head. “They have nothing to gain by killing him. It is I who pose the greatest threat to them and had they wanted to kill me, they had ample opportunity while I was on their land to attempt to do so.”
“Do we know who gave him the wine?” Grace asked abruptly.
“The server, wasn’t it?” Maynard supplied.
“Didn’t she spill the wine on him, though?” Dylan commented.
“Oh, aye, she did.”
“Who gave him the second glass then?” Grace asked.
“I did.”
All eyes dropped to Yunho, who had otherwise been silent since Jaejoong’s sister entered the room.
Before Gregori could say anything, Grace jumped to Yunho’s defense.
“Father, it’s preposterous to even think…”
“Did I say I was?” her father interrupted sharply.
“But Uncle…” Dylan sounded hesitant. “We all know how close Yunho is to Jaejoong, however, if people find out that he was the one who gave him the wine and we do nothing, there will be public outrage. The last thing we need is to incite the masses.”
Gregori looked down upon the still head of his son’s best friend. They were an unlikely pair, a combination that many found offensive and inappropriate, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Yunho would never hurt a hair on Jaejoong’s head.
However, Dylan had a point.
“Guards!” he called.
His personal guards, who were never more than mere feet away from him, came into the room.
“Pending further investigation, Jung Yunho will be detained for the attempted murder of His Highness, Prince Jaejoong. Take him away.”
His life at the palace had not been an easy one.
Truthfully, he’d never expected it to be. He’d known what he was doing when he’d made the pledge on that fateful day. His parents had begged him not to fulfill it, begged him to pretend that it had never happened, especially when it seemed that Prince Jaejoong was giving him a way out by not enforcing it. However, he’d always been a man of his word, even at such a young age, so as soon as he’d finished going through the change and was back on his feet, he’d packed what little belongings he’d had and gone to the palace, leaving the only life he’d ever known behind.
He’d had to beg and plead to see the Prince and he’d been refused time and time again, the soldiers laughing as they literally kicked him down the palace steps as if he was a stray dog. He hadn’t given up, though: he didn’t know the meaning of failure. He’d stuck around until one day he’d managed to convince a maid to tell the Prince that he was there, had insisted that Jaejoong was expecting him. When Jaejoong came out, he’d dropped to his knees and repeated his pledge all over again, in front of everyone, and being that it was the palace steps, there were a lot of witnesses.
For his part, Jaejoong had been mortified.
“Why did you come here?” he’d asked. “Didn’t I release you from your promise? Are you daft?!”
He hadn’t said much after that, hadn’t had the chance to since the summons had come down just then:
The King, having apparently heard of the commotion outside, had requested Jaejoong’s presence. Both of them.
Jaejoong had pleaded with him one last time to turn around and go back home, saying that if he left, he would handle the situation with his father on his own. He hadn’t said a word, simply walked silently behind his new master.
From his first meeting with the King, the day when he’d almost died, he’d learned that he was an unsympathetic man.
“I told you that you should’ve let him die,” he’d said calmly upon hearing of his pledge to Jaejoong. “Your bleeding heart has only brought you trouble. You don’t need the likes him of dogging your steps waiting for the perfect opportunity to plant a knife in your back.”
“Father!” Jaejoong had exclaimed in shock.
“Your Majesty.” Somehow he’d had the courage to speak and look the man himself directly in the eye. “I would quicker cut out my own heart than harm a hair on the Prince’s head. I owe him my life. As a man and as his subject, I cannot leave this world without repaying the kindness he has shown me. Please allow me to do so.”
King Gregori had looked him over, his eyes calculating.
Finally, he’d said, “You will lay down your life for him? Even if it is guaranteed to cost you your own?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Without hesitation.”
“So be it,” Gregori had said with a small shrug. “It costs me nothing to grant you this chance you so desperately seek. If nothing else, it should be amusing. I should warn you, however, it is probably going to be harder on you than anyone else in the palace’s employ for you do not have the benefit of good breeding on your side. Thus, you have a lot more to prove.”
King Gregori’s words were prophetic. Life at the palace had turned out to be an unimaginable kind of hell. At least, in the beginning.
To be Jaejoong’s bodyguard, he’d had to train so he’d joined the ranks of young soldiers who would later serve in the King’s army and wherever else Gregori decided they would be useful. However, since he was not born of royal blood like the rest of them were, not even distantly, he was seen as being less than them and, as a result, had been treated as such. The commanders were harder on him than the others, verbally and physically abusive. He had not been allowed to sleep in the same barracks with the other trainees so for the first year, he’d slept on a rough pallet in the loft of the stable. And still, he refused to give up.
Finally, unable to quietly bear witness to his mistreatment anymore, Jaejoong had moved him into his bedroom. He’d arranged for a small cot to be setup against the wall by the door.
“It’s the best that I could do on short notice,” he’d explained, his cheeks lightly flushed in apology.
He had been ecstatic, not to mention touched. He’d never expected anything from Jaejoong, to be honest. The fact that he’d even saved him had been more than a subject could ever expect to receive from his future King.
Gregori had not been pleased when he’d heard of Jaejoong’s “interference” as he’d put it but Jaejoong had stood his ground, standing up to his father for what he’d later told him was the first time in his life. He hadn’t bothered to mention that Jaejoong had stood up to his father one time before: the night he’d saved his life. He’d been out of it but he’d heard enough of what was said and in his heart, he’d thanked Jaejoong for saving him twice that day.
“If he’s to be my bodyguard then he needs to be near me, with me. He can’t guard my body from the barracks, which he doesn’t even sleep in by the way,” Jaejoong had argued. “He works just as hard as the others, harder even since he’s treated so unfairly. He at least deserves a proper bed to sleep in.”
Gregori’s response had been as diplomatic as always. “There’s nothing I can do if the soldiers don’t feel comfortable sharing their quarters with someone of his…ilk. As you pointed out, they work hard and deserve a comfortable space. However, you are correct. He cannot serve you from such a distance. Very well, then. He may stay here with you. Do keep an eye on him, please. The last thing we need are the servants getting ideas about changing their status or wanting more than what they’re already so graciously given.”
Their relationship had been a little awkward at first: he doing his utmost to be the faithful aid to his Prince and Jaejoong being flustered by his constant presence, barring when he was training. After a while, however, Jaejoong started asking him about himself and his family and the life he’d had and the more he told, the more Jaejoong wanted to know. The Prince, it seemed, was rather intrigued with the life of the common man. Their relationship had eased into friendship and later developed into a kind of brotherhood, though he was always careful to maintain a personal distance whenever they had an audience or were out in public. Proprieties had to be maintained. It wasn’t always easy, however, since Jaejoong became more stubborn and willful as he grew older and he made no attempt to hide how close they were or how much he trusted and counted on him.
As the years passed and their bond grew, Jaejoong had literally become a part of his family, practically being adopted by his mother and father after he’d begun imposing on their modest household when simply hearing about them and their lives in the crofter’s village had ceased to be enough for the Prince’s incurable curiosity. It was understandable, he supposed, since he’d seen with his own eyes how un-enchanting the Prince’s life truly was and how much he lacked and missed what most commoners took for granted: a loving family. Especially a mother. It explained why Jaejoong had bonded so completely with his own.
He had felt complete then, happy to be able to give the Prince something that no one else could. He’d vowed to do whatever it took to keep Jaejoong safe and happy and smiling the way he did whenever he visited his parents’ house.
Laying on his back, Yunho opened his eyes and stared up at the grim ceiling of his prison cell. He supposed he should be grateful that the King thought enough of him and his position to put him in a detainment cell instead of the dungeon where the worst of the criminal elements were taken. He wasn’t sure if he would have done the same seeing as he wasn’t feeling too kindly towards himself at the moment.
He’d promised to protect Jaejoong, staked his life on it, and when the time had finally come for him to keep his word, he had been the messenger of death, handing Jaejoong the very instrument that put his life at risk.
If Jaejoong died…they wouldn’t have to kill him for he would gladly do the job himself. If Jaejoong died, his life would automatically be forfeit. He would simply have no reason to live.
“Please,” he whispered brokenly into the silence that surrounded him, wondering if he would ever see those smiling green eyes again. “Come back to me.”
Gregori came to an abrupt stop several feet from Jaejoong’s door, watching said door being closed as a dark-haired woman exited and made her way down the hall in the opposite direction.
Even from the back, she looked, and felt, familiar and as she rounded a corner, giving him a brief view of her profile, the feeling multiplied tenfold.
He was just about to follow her when someone called to him.
“Your Majesty.” The maid bowed in greeting as she came to a stop before him.
Gregori pushed back his irritation. “How is he?”
“There’s been no change, milord. If anything…” her voice trailed off on a sad note.
“Who was that woman?” he asked suddenly.
The maid frowned in confusion. “Woman, milord?”
“The one who just came out of the room. Pale, long hair to her waist,” he supplied impatiently.
The maid started to shake her head again and for a moment Gregori had to fight the urge to throttle her but then her brain apparently kicked in.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “It must be the healer.”
“Healer?” he repeated.
“Aye, milord. Since the doctor is having a hard time finding the antidote, he’s resorted to trying any and everything he can think of in the meantime. Someone told him about a healer from the crofter’s village so he sought her out and she was kind enough to come here posthaste.”
Gregori glanced back in the direction that she’d disappeared. Something about her was very familiar. He knew that the fact that he couldn’t immediately place her would bug him for quite some time. One way or another, he would figure it out, he promised.
Dismissing the maid, he turned towards his son’s room and reached for the door.
Grace sat by her brother’s bedside, holding his cool, lifeless hand to her cheek, hot tears silently flowing from her eyes.
If he died… She couldn’t bear the thought. He was one of the few good things in her life. Without him, she would be lost, would have nothing but dark, lonely days.
She hadn’t always felt that way. A long time ago, when she’d been a mere child, she had resented him, hated him even. She had blamed him for the death of their mother, who’d lived only long enough to bring her precious son into the world before passing onto the next life. Her mother had been her everything. She may be a Princess but that mattered not because she wasn’t a boy. She was the first born but she could never rule. Her father had anticipated, assumed even, that his first child would be male, thus he’d intended to name the child after himself. She imagined it had been quite a disappointment when she had popped out, literally. Gregori wouldn’t suit, naturally, so they’d quickly amended it to Grace. Her mother had insisted that it suited her because she was “beautiful, lovely and filled with warmth and kindness. You will be a strong leader.” Perhaps her mother had forgotten that as a girl, she could never be Queen, but her words had been cherished nonetheless.
And then she’d lost her.
Her apathy towards her baby brother had built until she’d decided that he needed to pay for what he’d done, what he’d stolen from her. Looking back, it was rather frightening to realize how dark her thoughts had been during that time, especially given her young age. Her grief had put her in a bad place. She’d even convinced herself that if he died, her own pain would go away. Two weeks after his birth, she’d gone into his nursery, waiting until she knew that it would be empty. It was the first time she would set eyes on him. And the last, if she had anything to say about it. The jeweled dagger in her small fist - a gift from her father on her first birthday - was not without purpose, after all. She’d drawn a chair up to the side of the crib and climbed onto it, clutching the dagger in both hands and raising it high above her head. She’d closed her eyes and thought of her mother for a minute, letting her pain guide her, but as soon as she opened her eyes and looked down at her victim, she’d frozen.
Hair the lightest shade of gold...
She remembered hearing that in passing as she walked through the halls but she’d been so lost in her misery that she hadn’t thought anything of it. She never imagined that it related to the baby.
His hair was pale, almost white, gold. His cheeks round, lips ruby red, nose pert. She’d thought that he was asleep but then he opened his eyes and she’d gasped, almost tumbling off the chair on which she stood.
Emerald green eyes shone up at her.
Mother’s eyes, she’d thought. He had their mother’s eyes.
She’d dropped her dagger and reached out to him, stroking his soft cheek. When he’d smiled, that beautiful toothless smile, her pain became a distant memory. He was just like her, like their mother, and even at such a young age, she knew that she had to protect him for his life would not be easy. It was different for her because she was a girl and though she had their mother’s pale hair and received those looks because of it, she had her father’s intense blue eyes so people could still see him in her. But Jaejoong, as the son and future Prince, would not be allowed those concessions. Their people did not like different and Jaejoong was entirely too different to ignore. Fathers expected their children, especially their sons, to look like them, to be them. Jaejoong was his mother’s son through and through. Their mother too had been unique but she was not of their people so that fact was overlooked, accepted in the way that one accepted someone with a disability. No one had ever thought that she would pass it on to her children, not with their father’s pure blood running through their veins. It was a kind of universal comeuppance, she supposed. It was the merest of punishments for all the sins their father had committed.
She’d vowed then and there that she would do whatever it took to make Jaejoong’s life more bearable for she knew that he had a tough road ahead. The people would accept him solely because they had to. He was the legitimate heir of the King, after all. But getting their father to accept him, to truly care for him…that would be the greatest feat of all.
Coming back to the present, she pressed a kiss to his limp hand and sent a prayer up to the heavens.
“Please, Jaejoongie, come back,” she whispered tearfully.
The door opening behind her brought her startled her out of her misery. She quickly dried her tears and placed Jaejoong’s hand back onto the bed before turning around.
“Father,” she greeted, rising to give a small curtsy.
“How is he?” Gregori asked yet again.
Grace’s lower lip trembled but she bit into it, stemming the deluge that threatened. “It doesn’t look good. His heartbeat is frighteningly slow and is growing increasingly slower by the hour. The doctor said that without the antidote, there’s no way that he’ll make it. And even with the antidote, at this juncture… We should start making preparations.” Her lip trembled again.
“What about that healer who was just here?” Gregori queried, stepping closer to the bed and looking down at his prone son.
“She said that she did all that she could. Now, it’s up to Jaejoong whether he wants to come back or not. She said that we should talk to him for though he doesn’t answer, he may still hear us.”
Gregori laughed harshly. “Typical. Nothing but hogwash and vague advice for what I’m sure must have cost the doctor a pretty coin. He should’ve known better than to turn to those people for help. They care for no one but themselves.” Turning to his daughter, he gestured towards the door. “I will stay with him for a time. You may leave. Your husband is looking for you.”
Grace started shaking her head. “But, Father, I…”
“Go,” Gregori said, his voice brooking no argument. “If I am to lose my sole heir then you’d better get to work on making me a new one.” His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been married for almost a decade and have yet to produce a grandchild. Do you not see to your husband’s needs? Is he not satisfied with you?”
Grace froze. She felt like she had been slapped. In truth, she hated her father more than she loved him but there was nothing that she could do about her situation. She might be a Princess but at the end of the day, she was just a pawn to be played with as her father saw fit. She wondered what he would say if he knew that her husband, the man he had carefully chosen for her, preferred the company of common tavern whores to his own wife. To be honest, the arrangement suited her perfectly. She’d been in love once and had had that love ripped away. She would rather be married to someone she despised than someone decent who cared for her, knowing that she would never return his feelings. She would never wish upon another what she had to deal with on a daily basis.
When Gregori raised an expectant brow, Grace curtsied once more and took her leave.
Jaejoong floated aimlessly along the current, no destination in mind.
He felt lighter than a speck of dust, no more substantial than a ray of light. It was serene, this feeling, this weightlessness. There were no judgments here, no expectations. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so…complete. Well, that technically wasn’t true. It had been, once upon a time, but ever since he had come into his life, everything had changed. Still, he liked this place. He didn’t think he would mind staying here. He…
“You have to go back,” a warm, feminine voice suddenly spoke.
It felt like it was coming from inside of him, in his head and his heart, his very being.
“Your journey has only just begun. It is not your time yet.”
Wait!, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. He had no form here, he simply existed. Still, he didn’t want to go back. He liked it here. He wanted…
“Please. Come back to me...”
That voice. He knew that voice.
Before he could think, before he could figure out who it belonged to, he felt himself being pulled, like a vacuum sucking him back into another time and space.
Die, my Prince. Die!
Jaejoong’s eyes opened, their brilliant green depths sharp and clear.
He didn’t need to orient himself, didn’t need to take stock of his surroundings. He remembered everything. Everything.
There was no time to be wasted, he thought as he levered himself up out of bed.
He had work to do.
Chapter 3