The Child of Namyrur - Chapter 7
Title: The Child of Namyrur
Author: white_coral
Rating: PG
Summary: The history have written dark times and speak of the feud between the Nairn Kingdom and the Namyrur Kingdom. There are stories told upon children that either were to blame for the war that ensued. However, only few are left with the real truth. Time has passed and now, one of the fallen Namyrurians will see to the vows they made come true and retells a new history. But he'll have to deal with the obnoxious Prince Minho beforehand.
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~o~
The sounds of hoof beats pounding on the brown soil as galloping horses pace through the greens of the slightly steep hill resonate through the vast stretches of the forest. Small birds hum on tree branches, wild eagles soar high in the sky, foxes scurry astray from the horse’s path and the grazing deer lift their heads to watch in interest at the five riders as they come to pass.
Exhilaration fills Taemin’s lungs as Alastor’s firm and steady gallops sprint in an excited ride. He can tell that his mount craved for this. It’s been so long since Taemin left the castle and he is promptly reminded how he loves the spacious forest, the fast wind, the endless freedom and the rushing elation that renew his senses over and over when he rides Alastor. Once put together, they make a good batter.
Minho’s eyes watch Taemin’s prim control over his ride and the great synchronization between the two. Greyfell is always revered as one of the fastest stallions in the Kingdom, obviously so because of the vigilant care it received as Minho’s favourite. But looking at Alastor’s pace now, he might have found his match. The Prince grins and he bids his mount to approach Taemin. However, he was one step too late.
Taemin spares a quick glance to his side when a white mount come within reach, its eyes fixed ahead in focus. The rider, Kai, smiles knowingly at him and the young warlock dwells on the meaning behind those curved lips. Kai gives his horse the cue to lengthen his stride and it goes ahead of Alastor. Taemin instantly understands. He accepts the challenge and squeezes his calves and heels on Alastor’s side, not wanting to lose the race.
Greyfell’s strides falter and eventually, it comes to a trot. A gripping frustration plagues Minho and he tries to sort the numerous words that come to mind.
“Would you look at that.” A feminine voice draws nearer from behind. The Queen rides besides Minho, a smile poised on her lips and her long braid pulled over her right shoulder. She wore her new riding habit that had Nairn’s crest sewn on the back, prominently and proudly presenting a royalty. The King follows closely besides her, looking over the racing two.
“Taemin is an excellent horseman.” Changmin says, nodding in impressments. “I’ve never seen Jongin so intent on winning. I’d imagine Minho in his place right now.”
“Against Taemin? I’d rather him not assume any possibility to win over me.” Minho promptly replies, tho he knows Taemin is the only one who dares to confront, defy and brave up to him. It would be a shame to pass up anything when it comes to dealing with one such person. In his case, there’s only Taemin. A match with him is a great welcome because Minho finds Taemin’s rows of quarrels and arguments keep him from boredom these days.
“Gentlemen, as much as I enjoy riding, I wasn’t referring to whatever has caught either of your interests. My notion is purely what you can see in one simple glance! They look good together.” His Mother explains, smiling cheerfully. What she meant to say is that Taemin and Jongin look like a twin, they have surprisingly similar visage.
But Minho blindly perceives her words as otherwise. It obviously bothered him, however, he’d rather not submit to what he currently suffers as what Taemin described ‘jealousy’. Why would he, in the first place? Taemin do say ridiculous stuff sometimes and Minho wonders why it stirs him up so much.
Feeling nonsensical and warm all of the sudden, Minho kicks the side of his horse and he gradually gains speed, leaving behind his parents. There’s one argument that Minho still dwells until now. No matter how many times Taemin disagrees, Minho strongly believes that his manservant should be loyal and faithful to him, that Taemin should be closer to him and not friendlier with other Master. As of late, Minho comes across Taemin and Jongin together and he doesn’t really fancy the sight.
Right now, Minho witnesses Taemin’s blissful grin as the boy rides beside his brother, who seems thrilled by the race they set up. The Crown Prince, feeling unwittingly impulsive, prompts his mount to stride faster, not wanting to be left behind. Minho’s eyes set on the ground for a moment.
A small ball of white unexpectedly scampers right in front of Greyfell’s path. Distinctly recognizing it as a rabbit kit, Minho pulls the reins of his horse in panic and fear of hurting the harmless creature. Greyfell’s steps cease in no time and he bucks up, neighing loudly in shock, managing to toss Minho from his back while the rabbit kit runs away in fright.
Althea and Changmin, startled to see Minho hit the ground with a loud thud, hurry to their son’s side. Taemin glances to his back upon hearing Greyfell’s cry. As soon as he sees Minho propped on the ground with the Queen at his side, he knows there’s something wrong. As they neared, they could hear the Queen huffing worriedly at Minho.
“What happened?” Taemin asks, dismounting. Minho spares a quick, heated glance at him.
“Nothing.” He replies nonchalantly.
“Greyfell was speeding up.” Althea explains instead. “But Minho sort of stopped him. It bucked up and forced Minho off its back.”
“Were you avoiding something?” Taemin asks Minho again. The Prince decides not to answer as he felt like it. The young warlock is at a complete loss why Minho appears furious at him.
Minho tries to stand by pushing himself up but he immediately retracts his left hand from touching the ground and hisses in pain. Taemin can gauge from his reaction that he hurt himself. The young warlock gets to Alastor and detaches the saddlebag he put on earlier.
“Show it to me.” Taemin instructs Minho as he kneels by the Prince’s side.
“Why would I?” Minho refuses, scooting away from his manservant.
“Just show it to me.” Taemin matches Minho’s fiery eyes with his. Althea, the nearest observer at Minho’s side, stares in interest as do her husband and her other child.
“You don’t tell me to do things.” Minho says, stubbornly resisting Taemin.
The latter, on the other hand, bites his lower lip. He suppresses the desire to yell at the Prince all the thoughts that went through his mind. To think he was concerned about Minho’s welfare a minute ago. However he can’t. Not with the presence of the Queen and the King. Taemin will try a different reproach.
“Come! Oh my dear shy Prince!” He pleads, instantly catching Minho’s attention. “I am deeply concerned for your wellbeing! Do you not see? It is as clear as your beautiful doe eyes that you need help! Will you not hear my fretful plea?” Taemin stresses on sarcastically with a hint of sadness in his own eyes and a mocking grin playing on his lips.
Somewhere along the line, Minho caught the drift and now, he just wants to smack the back of Taemin’s head. The young warlock prays that the Prince stops being stubborn and heed quietly. This man had been nothing but trouble and dilemma for him.
“You’re sick, Taemin. The only one who needs help here is you.” Minho scoffs at and tries to stand again. Annoyed and driven livid, Taemin grips his fist and smacks the top of Minho’s head.
“Don’t be such a willful child! Why can’t you just listen to me and stay put when I tell you to?!” He bellows, surprising the audience greatly while Minho writhes in pain.
“You didn’t have to hit me!” Minho complains.
“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so stubborn!” The latter retorts. Taemin tugs the Prince’s hand and examines the grazed marks on his palm covered by crimson blood. Minho had scraped his palm on a coarse, flat stone half buried in soil earlier. The young warlock pulls out the leather water container from his saddle and pours the cool water over the wound.
Althea glances to his husband, who eyed her back with pure amazement and relief. Kai breaks into a smile upon seeing his parents who seems pleased to learn why Minho could settle down with Taemin. He needs Taemin. They have seen none who can handle Minho the way Taemin did and eventho it was faint, they can see the spark between the two. Althea’s heart waltzes in happiness.
“Ow!” Minho yanks his hand away when Taemin attempts to apply a creamy concoction on his wound.
“Don’t be such a girl, Minho. I barely touched it.” Taemin comments and snatches the taller man’s hand again. The touch of Taemin’s hand to his is strikingly cold and Minho found himself gazing at Taemin’s side profile as his wound is treated. It’s a little comforting to see his manservant does indeed, bear concerns for his welfare. Minho is not keen on the thought of Taemin hating him.
“There. Do you want me to dress the wound?” Taemin asks, catching Minho’s eyes that had stared back for a little more than a moment. Minho pulls his hand away.
“No, there’s no need for that.” He answers and stands up, leaving behind Taemin and the rest of the group to be at Greyfell’s side, half a dozen trees away. Taemin let out a sigh and begins to collect the medication bottle into his saddlebag. Until his eyes sees three pairs of boots in front of him and looks up slowly to spot the King, the Queen and Kai gazing back at him. Reminded at how he behaved towards Minho, the Crown Prince himself earlier, Taemin gasps in shock.
“I think we should call it a day, My Lord.” Althea smiles lovingly. King Changmin nods in agreement.
~o~
The wind blows a fallen leaf that rested on a closed windowpane of the Nairn castle. The fragile sheet scuffles up in the air current, falling short on reaching the vermilion sky before it gracefully descends on the soil and crunched under a man’s boot on his way home.
The cold draft coming in from Minho’s chamber’s window sends a chill up his naked top. The Prince closes the wooden panel urgently, thinking that the next season is stepping closer each passing moon. The tip of Taemin’s fingers goes numb each time he empties the water from the heavy buckets to fill Minho’s bath.
“Make sure it’s warm enough.” Minho says from behind the screen as he peels off his pants. Taemin, blinking twice at the sudden hint, hurriedly dips his left hand into the tub. The young warlock gets a little flustered when he ascertain that the temperature is not, in any way, warm enough for Minho. But he calms down and closes his eyes, with his hand still dip into the cooling water.
“Fir oumrye.” Taemin chants in a whisper. As his eyes glazed over a glassy light blue for a flash, an ethereal warmth spread through the water in the tub. Minho comes out from the other side of the screen with a towel covering his bottom. Taemin straightens up and smiles widely.
“Go ahead.” He gestures. Minho eyed him suspiciously at first, but the Prince comes into the tub nonetheless. The clean water rubs off the grime and he can feel the warmth absorbing the fatigue and exhaustion from his muscles and essences. Minho splatters water onto his face. He sighs in satisfaction and closes his eyes.
“Even Taemin can do the right job at times, huh?” Minho jests with a playful grin. Taemin glares at the man after he picked up the clothes strewn on the floor. He vividly recalls the accident a few days past, when he was carrying out the same job; Taemin lifted a bucket and unfortunately slipped on the watery stone floor, fell harshly on his back and fainted right after the empty bucket hit his head.
“Minho, if you’re still talking about that.. I’ll smack you again.” Taemin warns as he walks to the laundry basket next to the wardrobe and drops the clothing article, all the while watched by the Prince.
“You know I was the one who lifted you up?” Minho inquires.
“Yes. And you slapped me awake.” Taemin replies. His master chuckles.
“Only once. You woke up right after that. You should have seen yourself.” Says Minho, then laughs a little, earning a glare from Taemin.
“Stop laughing, it’s not funny.” The young warlock utters bitterly, then pouts. He glances to the laundry basket again, his hands on his hips. “I’ll leave you to your laughing then, Prince. I’m sending your laundry downstairs.” Taemin proclaims sulkingly. To his manservant’s words, Minho whirls around immediately and the tub water splashes loudly in reply.
“No, wait! Stay.” Minho calls out, halting Taemin who’s halfway towards the mahogany door. The boy looks back at him with a perplexed expression, the basket clutched under his right arm.
“Why should-“
“Just stay.” Minho cut his words, adding fume to his tone. “That’s an order.”
Taken aback, Taemin stood rigid for a moment but soon regains his composure and Minho sees his manservant’s brows crease together. It wasn’t long before a mouthful of defying comments burst out of Taemin’s small lips. Good, he thought.
Minho knows that every time Taemin sends his laundry downstairs, he would pass by the bout grounds and Jongin would call out to him and pretty soon, the two would engross themselves into a friendly conversation that serves Minho’s eyes soreness and his mind some distress. He had been watching their development for quite some time. Why would someone like Taemin be closer to his own brother than himself? Minho can’t possibly accept that.
Taemin felt the need to talk back to Minho and he tries to sound a little subtle because lately, he has been lashing on Minho a lot. And although it is not his own volition, Taemin do feel a tad bit guilty for that. However, now he’s just plain baffled. Minho complained he doesn’t do his work properly, but when Taemin wants to do the work he is usually urged on, Minho commands him to stay. Who wouldn’t go enraged?
Seeing that a small smile is gracing Minho’s feature, Taemin pauses his whining. “Now what’s gotten into you?” The Prince perks up at the attention.
“Nothing. Just thinking that pouting really suits you.” He answers.
“Someday, I’ll drown you in that tub.” Taemin curses.
“Never mind that, come and massage me.” Minho says casually, turning his back towards Taemin. The latter gazes at his broad shoulders with bewilderment. “And that’s an order too.” He adds. Altho pissed, Taemin complies nevertheless.
“I hate you so much.” Taemin murmurs as his hands work on the smooth skin.
“I heard that.” Minho responds, shutting his eyes to relinquish Taemin’s kneading that leaves a nice, relaxing sensation on his shoulders.
A crow’s distant calling from outside sounds clearer and crispier now that both of them stop talking, a sign for the rest of its kind to return to their nest for a night’s rest. Minho’s thoughts wander to the reports he needs to handle by the next daylight but the weight of dozing off pretty soon topples over those strenuous notions.
Taemin realizes that Minho is snoozing off as soon as the Prince’s head nods forward a couple of times. Pleased, Taemin stops massaging his shoulders. But then Minho starts to mumble something. The warlock draws nearer to listen, feeling the bath’s warm steam blowing on his face.
“Don’t stop..” Minho mutters, his mouth slightly agape and his cheeks tinted a slight pink. From the tips of his wet hair, water drips ever so slowly and his head lolls to the left slightly every time he nods. Taemin chuckles at the sight.
“You can appear cute too, I see.” He says to himself. Taemin is about to pull back when he hears a few words coming out of Minho’s lips again.
“Stupid Tae..min..” Minho faintly murmurs, snapping something inside Taemin.
“I take my words back. You have the ugliest mug ever existed.” The young warlock murmurs back, wondering why he is talking to the sleeping Prince. Taemin straightens up and sighs.
The corner of his eye catches a flash of light from a far and Taemin flicks a glance to the object. It is a silver letter opener left unattended on Minho’s desk, bouncing lights flickered towards it. In that mere silent moment, a heinous question creeps into Taemin’s mind.
Why shouldn’t he finish Minho now?
Taemin glances around, eventho he knows he will find no one. His heartbeats steadily intensify. Breathing within the bounds of the four walls are Minho and him, alone. There’s no excusable reason to not attempt assassination, what with Minho dozing in his bath and all. Taemin feels like there’s something wrong with the idea, but as grueling it is to remove the concern occupying his mind now, the heavier the responsibility resting on him weigh up. Anxiety builds up in him. Tension in the air riles animatedly.
Taemin gulps down the nonexistent lump in his throat. A bead of sweat rolls down his jaw. He licks his dry lips and wonders why his gullet has suddenly gone parched.
“Owaten mich.” Taemin chants, sounding ever so wispily. His eyes gleam and the letter opener that he chose to use as a weapon lift from the table and soar towards his direction. Once the cold metal comes into his grip, Taemin’s hand starts trembling. He is so far terrified that he no longer knows why.
Taemin tightens his grip. He glances to Minho’s peaceful back, sucking in and releasing deep breaths of sleep. Nightfall is fast approaching. The young warlock holds up the silver and closes his eyes. He releases his breath.
And he swings his hand down.
But then there’s a knock and the door flung open. Taken in surprise and panicked, Taemin gasps, drops the letter opener into the bath and on the spur of the moment, hugs Minho’s back tightly. The Prince awakens in alarm as the water splashes loudly. Someone came in but Taemin shuts his eyes as the fear of being discovered seized him still. A pregnant silence follows right after.
Minho doesn’t understand. Not even a bit. It felt like he blinked and lost track of everything in one second. How did he fell asleep in the presence of someone he never been at peace with? Why is Taemin hugging him tightly? Why is Taemin’s heart beating fastly?
“Oh my.” Came a womanly voice. Minho glances at her direction. “How intimate.” She chuckles.
“Mother?” The Prince dubs. Taemin, endowed with realization, part from Minho’s back with a horrid fluster.
“Y-Your Majesty!” Taemin bends for a bow. He spares another look at her loving expression, adorning a perceptive smile for the viewers. She doesn’t seem to have an air of a witness of anything out of the ordinary so Taemin tries to pull himself together, strictly willing his heartbeats to slow down.
“What were you two doing?” Althea inquires. It seems like she had interrupted their private moment and something’s grinding at the back of her mind that she didn’t turn up at the precise time but her heart thrilled at the mere thought of it. Catching people in surprise is one of her wicked passion.
“I-I was, um, massaging Min- the Prince.” Taemin says.
“And apparently, I fell asleep through it.” Minho adds, sensing that Taemin is a little out of sorts. “Why are you here Mother? Shouldn’t you get ready for the banquet?”
“Yes, I know dear. Everyone is fussing around the castle.” She says. “I think I’m already ready, right how I am. Beauty is written all over my face, right?” Althea jests whilst smiling charmingly and her son laughs at her frankness.
“I can see that very well. But why come all the way here?” Minho inquires, curious to hear her reason.
“Can’t I be in my own son’s chamber?” The Queen says, strolling casually towards the canopy bed, draped with a transparent sandy cloth on its roof. She runs her hand on the satin smooth, made coverlet. “I still remember decorating your room myself.” Althea clasps her hands together over her chest, her eyes a distant-like glimmer as her younger days flash before her.
“I’m bathing, Mother.” Minho gives notice, figuring he should come out of the bath by now and wondering if his mother takes note of the sight.
“Aw, come on Minho. I used to bathe you all the time! And you were so keen on having a naked adventure and would jump out of the tub and ran out the room every single time. I would howl ‘Prince’s little butt!’, then everyone went frantic chasing you, yelling ‘Prince! Prince!’ after you.” Althea recollects, imbuing heavy embarrassment within his son.
“Pfft.” Taemin snickers, grinning at the revelations. Sensing Minho’s glare on himself, Taemin quickly tries to chase away the amusement but finding it to no avail. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”
“Would you like to hear the rest?” Althea offers.
“Mother!” Minho shouts with fluster and the Queen laughs in respond. If there’s anything Minho hates to see happening in present, it is Taemin listening to his own mortifying tale of childhood escapade. His mother seems to have taken a light on shedding his cool composure and Minho attempts to steer the conversation elsewhere.
Taemin’s lips graces a smile as he gaze at the bond between the two. You can never sever water, not even with the sharpest blade and the same principle manifests in the link between a child and its parent. There’s no affection in this world that could ever be on par with the love amongst a family that shares laughter, sadness, contentment and melancholy. It is something different. For a second, the young warlock found himself willing to give up everything and wishing he would have that ‘something’. But the thought withdraws before long.
“Actually, I came to see Taemin.” Althea professes unexpectedly.
“Me?” Taemin gives her a blank look. “Why?”
“I have something to give you.” She says, beaming serenely. “I was born into a noble family. Served by many as the Lady of the House and I’ve lived long enough to know.” Althea began. “People go a long way to win the hearts of their monarchs. They would rather be regarded as submissive and unvoiced, distancing themselves firmly so they don’t get more than what they bargained for. However, Taemin, you displayed something that made me marvel. I don’t dare name it, but I don’t hate.” The Queen affirms, making way to the said boy and entrusts an ornament she had in palm in his. “It’s a pleasure to have you here.” She adds lastly.
Astonished and speechless, Taemin’s eyes scan the item the Queen handed over to him that felt cold to his touch. It is a silver bracelet, adorned with a round Larimar stone and intricately engraved on its clasp. For one moment, he is deeply taken by its splendor but he quickly declines.
“I can’t have this, Your Majesty. It’s too much for someone like me.” He says. In fact, he doesn’t even deserve the praises the Queen showered him. Not even a slight bit. If anyone should want Taemin to disappear from the face of the world, it should be the mother of the person he vowed to kill. And she’s standing in front of him. He hadn’t done anything productive for any sides, nor Nairn, neither Namyrur. Why should he be appreciated?
She has just known this child today, but Althea loathes seeing him miserable. But that’s exactly what he is showing. She is clueless about the sad thoughts going through his mind. The least she could do is offer a kind smile. But she has no intent to leave with the bracelet so she takes his wrist and fasten the ornament.
“I insist. Please.” Althea implores. Taemin flickers a gaze at Minho, not knowing why he is doing so. Maybe he hoped for help.
“I don’t see why you shouldn’t take it, Taemin.” The Prince says, smiling charmingly at him. Taemin is not the most excellent manservant, but Minho knows he can rely on him. “I insist too, on my Mother’s behalf.”
Taemin has a heavy heart on agreeing, but the situation shows sign of retaining only one way out.
“Alright.” He says and Althea releases a breath of gladness. “I thank you, Your Majesty. It is very beautiful.” Taemin smiles at her, figuring that thinking too deeply would only hurts himself and grieving all the time brings him nowhere.
“Now that my mission is done, if you’ll excuse me, I have to return to my Lady-in-waiting that is probably out looking for me.” The Queen says and takes her leave.
“Come here, Taemin.” Minho summons. The Prince takes his hand and examines the bracelet. “It’s the same stone as my pendant.”
“Now that you remind me.. It is.” Taemin exclaims.
“My mother’s really nice, right?” Minho asks, a cheery grin sliding on his lips. “Do you like it?”
“I’m more than grateful.” Taemin smiled back.
“I guess Mother really likes this stone. I rarely see her give gifts, partly because she’s often out of the Kingdom, but on some occasion, she gives the same stone.”
“It’s Larimar. It’s time you learn the name, Minho.” Taemin tells the Prince.
“O shush. There are just too many stones and too different names.” He complains.
“Yep and all Princes are too busy to remember a handful of them, right?” Taemin teases playfully. Baffled, Minho reach to pinch his manservant’s cheek, but the boy withdraws faster.
“You should go and get ready. I think I’ll be fine on my own.” The Prince decides. Taemin tilts his head.
“Get ready? With what?”
“Gee, I don’t know.” Minho crows naively, then splash water on Taemin’s clothes, making him gasp and his tunic drenched. “A change of clothes, perhaps?” Minho suggests, grinning.
“I should have just drowned you.” Taemin nags while the man only laughs in reply.
~o~
Moments later, Taemin’s presence switch at his own chamber and he rested on his bed, eyeing Onew who was sitting on his desk, going through a book opened before him. The older man’s expression was bemused and his jaw was slacked open at the story Taemin had just told him. Then, he closes his book and turns to face the young warlock, a sign of a momentous seriousness.
“A bracelet, Taemin?” He asks again.
“Yes, a bracelet. What’s wrong with it?” Taemin wonders why he appears so stunned. Onew sighs.
“I think I owe you an apology.”
“And an explanation at that. What is it? What’s wrong?” Taemin asks, curiosity blooming bigger within him.
“Your kin, Taemin, or to make things clearer, Namyrurians has a custom that runs since long ago. A custom that was a belief even in the legends of Namyrur.” Onew says.
“That is?” Taemin prompts. Onew’s gaze at him is unwavering, critical, perhaps in hope that Taemin too, will put faith in the said ‘custom’. It certainly never appeared in his night dreams.
“One’s act to accept ornaments with gems is to accept the gift of betrothal.” Onew answers. The words buffer in Taemin’s mind, until he understands it completely.
“What- in the five hells?!!” Taemin shrieks, instantly sitting up on his bed. “Wait, wait, wait! So- does this mean, no, it can’t be, who would kid with- Onew!” He roars.
“How was I supposed to know that this kind of occasion would happen?” The older man fends.
“But it doesn’t apply on me right? I-I mean, even if the custom said so, the Queen has no daughter.”
“It actually depends on the circumstances as well. Who was with you at that time?” Onew inquires.
“Only the Queen.. And Minho, of course.” Taemin replies. Onew’s face immediately darkens.
“Then, who actually asked you to accept it?” Onew asks further. Taemin vividly remembers the event.
“The Queen… and Minho too.”
“Um..” Onew stalls. Taemin has always thought himself sensible and right now, he kind of gets the whole idea.
“Does this mean..?” He asks, dreading the answer from Onew.
“Taemin… You are betrothed to Prince Minho.” The older man gravely declares. Abhorrence and revulsion quickly fill Taemin up.
“O my god, kill me.” Taemin whines, collapsing forward and pressing his face onto the mattress. “What, so do I have to marry Minho now?” He asks, voice muffled by the bedspread, thinking that this is ridiculous.
“Long engagements were pretty common for formal arranged marriages and it was not uncommon for parents betrothing children to arrange it many years before the engaged couple is old enough to marry.” Onew says.
“We both know I’m old enough.” Taemin states. He makes a resolution and he’s going to hold it true. “I have decided to ignore this matter!” He says, and then makes an escape from the room. Onew stares at the door flung open by the young warlock, sighing deeply.
“How absurd is this, Jaejoong? Your only son is engaged to the Prince of Nairn.”
~o~
Heralds perform their work elaborately this evening. The banquet is attended by many officials and the nobility of all ranks arrive at the castle from their lodgings in neighboring towns. The ballroom is graced by the presence of Barons, Marquises, Counts, Dukes and an Archduke. The grandiose chandelier hung high on the ceiling and prized tapestries depicting Nairn’s Provinces crests are draped on the stone wall.
Taemin stood with a wine jug in hand behind Minho’s seat, erected on a scaffold next to the King’s and Queen’s and Jongin’s that overlook the entire scope of the room. The well-dressed nobility scatter around the food tables, talking with modest pretense and glorifying their own title with one another.
Like Minho, behind Jongin’s seat stood his manservant. Althea’s maidservant and Lady-in-waiting stood behind her seat while Changmin’s chamberlain and advisor stood behind his own. One after the other, the guests comes up the scaffold to greet the royal family, issuing praises and honoring names.
Taemin’s job is mainly to make sure Minho’s goblet is not empty. And he pours the wine for the Prince again, who seems a little lifeless.
“You seem down.” Taemin whispers after a Count and his wife finish their greetings and the next noble is looming nearer.
“I’m not.” Minho denies.
“Whatever you say, then.” Taemin replies. They didn’t chat for about two couples of noble, until Minho had enough of coping to himself.
“My friend is supposed to be here. He couldn’t attend it and sent a representative from his House instead.” Minho confesses, sighing.
“Are you bored?” Taemin asks.
“Well, I was looking forward on seeing him. Banquets have never been a source of pleasure. Having a partner to talk with is my only breakout.” The Prince sips his drink. Taemin glances to Kai.
“Your brother doesn’t seem bothered.” He speaks with a low voice, keeping his gaze down when a Baron begins his greetings. Some nobles don’t fancy meeting eyes with mere servants.
“He’s demure. Has always been like that.” Minho answers, all the while feigning a smile to the Baron.
“And you’re the opposite?” Taemin quips.
“Shut up, Taemin.” Minho grumbles and Taemin suppresses his chuckle. When the Baron finally leaves, Minho finishes his wine from his goblet again; not noticing the next patron has already taken his place in front of the royal table.
“Take it easy there, Prince.” The man salutes. Minho perks up at the attention.
“Lord Hugh.” He replies, his smile fading. Taemin flicks a glance to the auburn haired man, whose eyes carry a curious glint. He can subsequently feel the atmosphere growing stiffer and wonders who the broad shouldered man is.
“Hugh, I thank you for coming. How is everyone faring back home?” The Queen asks courteously.
“Everyone is well, Your Majesty.” He bows, with his hand on his chest. “I heard your most recent expedition went exceptionally favorable. How reassuring it was when I heard the news to find it would benefit the Clan in every way possible.”
“I strive to bring comfort to the Clan, surely you have foreseen this? Knowing you, I probably wouldn’t have to send reports en route for Craycia. Your influence is more than significant to bring hearsay from the Kingdom.” Althea replies.
“You flatter me, Your Majesty. I’m merely a fortunate man blessed with a noble birth. Hadn’t I shared your blood, no one would spare their impressions on me. I’m indebted to you, sister.” Hugh expresses, smiling but Taemin find that the smile won’t reach his eyes.
He is neither roguish nor ill-behaved but he seems like one who can hide intentions behind smiles, lace words with discrete meanings and portrays heavy suspicion as if he aspires to plant the very feeling within his audiences. He wants people to be wary of him, to have them listen carefully of what he speaks about. Taemin is not akin to it.
The Lord soon shifts his talk with the King, discussing lightly on reports and soliciting the King’s views on things and compared them to his. Hugh’s words do not appear dishonest, that much Taemin can tell and he is nothing alike other nobles. He doesn’t dish out major compliments or recalling achievements. It is more like he is judging himself against the King. Taemin find him very worthy of note. Hugh leaves right after the Queen requests him to send regards for the Clan.
“Who was that?” Taemin whispers at Minho.
“I’m surprised you don’t know him.” The Prince replies. “He is Lord and Clan Chief Hugh Alyenora, the Archduke of Craycia Province and older brother of the Queen.”
“Sounds like a big man.” Taemin stares at the man from a far. “Why was he… like that?” He isn’t sure what to name the character, there’s a lot to put under a word.
“He is odd as usual.” Minho says. “There’s a story behind it. I’ll tell you later.” Taemin is curious about him, but he’ll have to wait.
The banquet ensues until the night bell rang and before long, one by another carriage departs from where they hail. Cold wind blows softly pass the open arch and rolling under the bridge where a long-tailed cat rests on its rail, yawning mutedly. The moon vanishes behind travelling clouds.
Minho was about to retire to his own chamber with Taemin closely following behind him when a pageboy came rushing to him. He relayed a message that the court has been summoned. Taemin wanted to pass the offer but then he found out that Tomas Elyot has come to allot his opinion regarding the research on Namyrur Kingdom. How could the young warlock possibly pass up the chance to listen?
The court is attended by the usual officials and some remaining nobles who chose to listen. Reports of court decisions are sent to all Provinces but apparently, they fancy witnessing it first-hand. Onew is also present. King Changmin and his wife sat on their pedestal and Tomas bows to them before commencing.
“I thank you for granting me an audience, Your Majesties and I am truly sorry to impose on your celebration night.” He says.
“You needn’t be so modest, Tomas. I haven’t seen you in a long time.” Althea replies with a smile to which Tomas promptly replies. The Queen knew Tomas, grew up watching the older man travel back and forth from their same hometown to other parts of the Kingdom.
“Forgive me for not being here to join your homecoming party. I was away to another city.”
“Hence?” Changmin asks. “Have you come to present your opinion?” Tomas’ lips pull into a grim line. He heaves a deep breath.
“My timely research has come to little fruition, Your Majesty. I offer you my deepest apologies for my lack of function.” He says, dipping into a bow once more. “However, I happen to collect some proofs that took nearly ten years of my life to convince myself on settling a single conclusion, tho I still cannot claim the exact existence of this matter that perchance, had been the greatest asset of Namyrur Kingdom.”
“What is this matter you’re speaking of?” King Changmin prompts, feeling himself gearing up. Everyone listen closely, holding their breath as they wait for Tomas to continue. Taemin’s heart clenches in anxiety.
“Their association with magic.” The Royal Commisioner reveals. Some tilt their heads in confusion, some gasps in wonderment, some chatter to demand explanation but most know that it really did exist once; one such thing called Magic. Taemin’s heart hammers wildly.
“Magic, you say?” The King asks, testing if he heard right.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Arcane techniques that had probably been molded to conceal itself within the pages of history. Because of its extremely mighty nature that exceeds logic and common knowledge, it had proven very difficult to study for. Before long, we can see clearly that this subject has waned beyond savior in the present world and its scholars perished.” Tomas clarifies.
“You mean to say..” Althea asks, having in mind what the man is trying to imply.
“Yes, the scholars I mentioned is the matter we are looking into; Namyrurians.” Tomas confirms.
“Five hells…” Taemin mutters under his breath. He is quite taken aback but it is not like he hasn’t foreseen this. Calming himself down, Taemin glances to Onew, who appears to be deep in his own thoughts.
“I do not mean to speculate that such unfeasible conclusion would answer the queries you have inside your rational mind, Your Majesty. And I do not mean to disgrace my name by making baseless inference.” Tomas continues.
“But even tho I pride myself as a seasoned historian and had dedicated myself solemnly to pursue records, stories, chronicles, memoirs and accounts that has long lost in the flow of time, I am ashamed to admit that I’ve never come close to discovering anything regarding Namyrur Kingdom. In fact, nobody ever has.” Tomas casts his eyes down in grief. “We know it existed and we also know it vanished during your grandfather’s reign, Your Majesty. Every historian thirsts for its wisdom.”
The King shuts his eyes and heaves a silent sigh. “I am your sovereign. But Tomas, I do not possess all the knowledge in the world. I’m afraid I will have to ask of your suggestion to deal with this matter. Something you can reasonably make out of your opinion. I find your advices very helpful these past few days.” He decrees. Tomas bows again, grateful at the compliment he was blessed with.
“If it is going to take a lifetime to unearth the vanished, prosperous Kingdom of Namyrur, I plan to try every scheme possible.” The historian states. “Would Your Majesty fancy on hunting magicians?”
“Hunt?” King Changmin utters. Everyone is baffled. They chatter quietly amongst themselves.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I am quite sure they are lurking around. In this age and generation, some very bright and intelligent people have conducted research on what they named alchemy. You’ve heard of this before, My Lord?” Tomas inquires.
“Yes, during my father’s reign, their assembly was banished.” Changmin replies.
“Correct. They were banished because their studies were of unknown nature and carried infinite possibilities that could pose a threat on the Kingdom’s safety. I figure we can start hun-“
“Pardon.” Althea cut Tomas’ words, earning every attention immediately.
“Yes, Your Majesty?” The Royal Commisioner asks.
“I’m afraid I cannot support this suggestion, Tomas.” She declares. “I consider there is an element amiss.”
“What is it, my love?” The King prompts.
“Why not try a softer approach?” Althea poses. Taemin’s earlier alarm began to soothe and he beholds an uncanny hope to the idea she speaks of. It should be far better than ‘hunt’ that sounds a little more than menacing. The Court too, regard at her with high opinion.
“You see, if we want to learn about their Kingdom, why should we treat it as if it is an enemy? We have done that before and it steered us to war. We should try to open up our doors and welcome them before we want to enter theirs. With violence, we will probably lose more than we gain. And also, we have to expand our view and see what the clue is. Perhaps, magic can be a force of good?” The Queen discloses, receiving a few small talks of agreement amid the members of the Court. Both Taemin and Onew look at her with amazement, not expecting for this turn-out.
“Indeed, it is another open prospect..” Tomas murmurs to himself, reservedly accepting the sincere idea of the Queen.
“Do you have any proposal then, my dear?” Changmin inquires, his interest swelling. Althea smiles even brighter.
“Actually, yes.”
~o~
The toils of the Court finishes as soon as midnight ticked on pocket watches. The castle slip quietly into a rest after the members returned to respective chambers while guards stay awake to defend the fort.
Minho changes into his night attire and lean on his perched pillows with the blanket swept over him in a clutter. The hearth is livened with a friendly fire, offering warmth to share with the chamber’s occupants. Taemin sits on the bed by Minho’s side, taking the Prince’s hand in his to clean the wounds from his ride this morning and to dress it up for comfort.
“I can’t believe we are actually announcing for magician employment tomorrow. Mother is mind-blowing.” Minho says. He waits for his manservant to say something but no words came. “Are you listening, Taemin?”
“Huh? Oh sorry.” Taemin wakes from his trance. “It’s been a long day.” He returns to applying herbal concoction on Minho’s palm as pale moonlight that streamed from the window casts soft illustrations on his fair face. The Prince stared at his manservant, wondering why the pretty boy seems a little out of sorts. Taemin keeps the silence and Minho remains awaiting for words from him.
There are just too much for Taemin to digest. He is a little torn apart and his belief shakes every time he rethinks of the events that are unveiling. Is he to carry out his mission as the child of Namyrur? Or is he uselessly trying to prolong the war that this Kingdom is not aware that it hasn’t ended just yet? He glances to Minho, whom he found was peering at him.
“What do you think of magic, Minho?” Taemin asks. The Prince took a few moments to answer.
“Magical, I guess.” Minho answers. Taemin gave him a look that says ‘Really?’
“You’re really a person of words. That was very helpful.” Taemin scoffs and the Prince laughs.
“Magic is…” Minho tries again, catching Taemin’s interest. “A wonder. It will probably put me in awe.”
“Awe?” The young warlock tilts his head.
“I meant, if I ever saw it.” Minho says. But then, Taemin seems to drift away again and as much as he tries not to dwell on it, Minho finds himself more intrigued.
“Are you upset with anything Taemin?” Minho asks as Taemin reaches for the bandage from the sidetable.
“Upset?”
“Yeah, are you upset with the Court’s decision or something?” Taemin can’t say nay. He wasn’t sure what’s there to be ‘upset’ for. Nor did it bring glee to his heart. If anything, it confused him to great lengths.
“It’s just a little…. Mystifying. I never ever thought that the Kingdom would want to employ magicians.” The young warlock says, bizzarely wondering if he should sign up for it.
“Me neither. But I don’t let it get to me right now.” Minho states and Taemin gazes back into his eyes. “I’m tired too, Taemin. And I find that your usual prattle put me at ease. It pains me to say that I actually miss it.”
Taemin can feel himself loosening. He actually agrees with Minho. Maybe he should just rest his mind and put the case down for a little while. There is always tomorrow, for god’s sake. Taemin’s lips pull up a soft smile and his cheeks swell at the action.
“I take it you mean to say you’re actually a masochist?” He comments and Minho grins.
“There you are.” The Prince says and they laugh. Nasty and eye-catching, Minho thought.
“Oh yeah, that reminds me..” Taemin exclaims, pausing his handwork on the bandages. “You promised me Lord Hugh’s story.”
“Ah, that..” Minho answers. “Well, how do I start?” He thinks for a moment, arranging words in his mind, tousled by images of the history lesson he learnt from his tutor when he was young.
“As you are aware of,” Minho began. “Nairn Kingdom is made up of nine Provinces. The capital city used to be in Craycia Province and there lived our primary Emperor of the House of Craycia. When the Clan fell to tragedy and the only line of throne robbed by fire, Vawdrey Province was elected to be the new capital because the Archduke back then was the Lord of the Vawdrey Province.”
“Wait. Why prioritize the Archduke? What of the other nobles?” Taemin asks.
“Archduke Rank is on par with the rank of a Crown Prince. If anything should happen to the throne line, the Archduke has the authority to take over the throne.” Minho explains. “How come you don’t even know that basic thing?”
“Just- carry on.” Taemin huffs.
“Well, as I said, the Archduke of Vawdrey Province took over the throne. The Alyenora Clan was the biggest supporter of the House of Craycia and bear grudges toward the House of Vawdrey, accusing that they don’t deserve the throne. Lord Hugh happened to be quite fanatical on this matter since his childhood. People can’t tell if he remains negative to this present day. That is why Father, me and Jongin is quite… indifferent with him.” Minho says.
“I’m surprised the Queen hails from the Alyenora Clan. Was the marriage between your parents arranged?” Taemin asks.
“Not really. There were tension between the families but my Father and Mother, they met, fell in love and eventually married. As simple as that.” Minho answers, shrugging his shoulders. Then he smiles gently. “When two people are meant for each other, no time is too long, no distance is too far, no one can ever tear them apart.”
Taemin’s eyes that were intent on the bandage he was wrapping on Minho’s palm waver unexpectedly to his own wrist, on the silver Larimar bracelet. Struck with recollection of his kin’s custom, his cheeks pinked. What a strange moment to remember that he is incidentally betrothed to Minho, who talked about love with a tender attitude.
“Since when you have a honeyed tongue?” Taemin sneers, deriving himself of the oddly embarrassing thought. Minho laughs a pleasant and amiable sound to Taemin’s ears.
“Shall I continue until you take back your sarcastic remark about me being a person of words?” Minho crows.
“Don’t you dare.” Taemin warns but can’t help grinning at Minho’s silliness. The Prince doesn’t take heed and starts searching for the right words to astound Taemin. His manservant seemed taken aback by his words of woo earlier and he noticed those fair cheeks blushed and he decided he liked the reaction.
Minho looks around for inspiration, until his eyes land on the remedy Taemin used on his wounded palm and an idea dawns on him. He gently closes his palm, trapping Taemin’s that was wrapping bandage over it. Surprised, the young warlock looks up to meet Minho in the eyes.
“Love is a cure- Both for the one who give it and the one who receive it.” Minho flirts. Stunned, Taemin stared with disbelieve. Then they break into a big laugh together.
“You crazy Prince.” Taemin says, catching his breath. “Well, it’s done.” He announces and Minho looks at his own bandaged hand, frowning unconsciously to himself. Taemin gathers his things and stands up.
“Don’t be late tomorrow, Taemin.” The Prince says, gaining an offended look from Taemin.
“I should use the exact same words on you.” Taemin replies and they share laughter again.
Minho watches Taemin’s retreating frame, feeling a little cheerless at the sight. Taemin twists the knob of the door, all ready to leave. However, he realizes that Minho had just lifted his spirit that was down. All it took was a sincere look of his eyes and a kind smile. And he made Taemin laughed.
“Minho,” The young warlock calls without looking back. “Have a good rest.” He wishes and steps out with a smile.
~o~
Jongin was pacing towards his brother’s room, intending to request his signature on a report that whirled on his own work table by mistake. He figured that finishing his report would leave an open morning for him to venture in the forest and practice archery tomorrow. Along the way, he crosses path with Taemin.
“Has Brother retired for the night?” He asks.
“Yes, all tucked in.” Taemin replies. “Did you want to meet him?”
“I did, but perhaps, I’m out of luck.” Kai sighs. “Are you on your way back?” He asks and Taemin nods at him. “Care for accompany?” He offers.
“Sure.” Taemin smiles back.
They walk in silence, finding comfort with the solitude that the night posed. Until they turn on a corner and cross the bridge that leads to the old wing of the castle that Kai stops to point out the full moon boldly dwelling on the starry sky.
“Now that it reminds me, the Beaver Moon Festival is coming soon. The castle is going to be busy.” Kai says.
“What’s the Beaver Moon Festival?” The young warlock asks which makes Kai puzzled.
“It’s a celebration for the Fall full moon and the legend behind it. It’s celebrated every year, haven’t you partake at all?”
“Err… No. I hadn’t a chance.” Taemin answers, remembering the old days he spent to himself in forests. “Besides, this is my first visit to the castle.”
“I see.” Kai nods in acknowledgement. “Well, you are in for a merry fete. It’ll be very entertaining, I give you my word. The festival lasts for two days. There will be tents of games strewn across the field and the aroma of roast cooking wafting in the air, music playing onstage, Knight tournaments, treasures on bargains and a masquerade ball in the last evening.” He smiles at the shorter boy.
Taemin had participated in Harvest Festivals that small villages celebrate, but he has never been to an elaborate one and he found himself unusually excited. He keeps asking Kai of what kind of games will there be and what kind of snacks will be sold and each answer he harnesses makes his smile grow.
~o~
Minho tossed and turned, finding difficulty in committing to the common task of sleeping. His energy had drained out from his day’s activities as the Commander of the Knights and the banquet had left him more than tired, but his body refuses to give in to rest.
He let out a sigh and turns to the left again, deciding that it is the most comfortable pose. Then, his eyes caught a flash of shimmer and he looks out at the window that views the bridge leading to the castle’s old wing. There are two person standing in the middle, talking to one another and he distinctly recognizes them; Jongin, his brother, and Taemin, whose bracelet bounced moonlight to the Prince’s eyes as his wrist moves about.
The scene is almost amorous, like something you would read between the lines of a romance poem. There are a horde of things that makes Minho uncomfortable and oddly enough, this sight is one of the lots. And as Taemin laughs, Minho suffers an ache that left him wondering if this pain is ‘jealousy’. He feels barren and troubled and mainly, longing for company.
His company.
~o~
A/N: Hey there, it's Chisa. :) I hope you like the chapter. I'm working on the next draft, and I'm not sure what to tell about since I have numerous ideas in line, but you'll be getting your dose of 2min, no worries. It has been such a busy month. Take care of your health, being ill is such a pain. Credits to coffee_sky for providing ideas. Tee-hee.
Tis Taemin's new bracelet:
Now have some sassy King Thranduil on your face
Bye bye flowers.
Author: white_coral
Rating: PG
Summary: The history have written dark times and speak of the feud between the Nairn Kingdom and the Namyrur Kingdom. There are stories told upon children that either were to blame for the war that ensued. However, only few are left with the real truth. Time has passed and now, one of the fallen Namyrurians will see to the vows they made come true and retells a new history. But he'll have to deal with the obnoxious Prince Minho beforehand.
1 2 3 4 5 6
~o~
The sounds of hoof beats pounding on the brown soil as galloping horses pace through the greens of the slightly steep hill resonate through the vast stretches of the forest. Small birds hum on tree branches, wild eagles soar high in the sky, foxes scurry astray from the horse’s path and the grazing deer lift their heads to watch in interest at the five riders as they come to pass.
Exhilaration fills Taemin’s lungs as Alastor’s firm and steady gallops sprint in an excited ride. He can tell that his mount craved for this. It’s been so long since Taemin left the castle and he is promptly reminded how he loves the spacious forest, the fast wind, the endless freedom and the rushing elation that renew his senses over and over when he rides Alastor. Once put together, they make a good batter.
Minho’s eyes watch Taemin’s prim control over his ride and the great synchronization between the two. Greyfell is always revered as one of the fastest stallions in the Kingdom, obviously so because of the vigilant care it received as Minho’s favourite. But looking at Alastor’s pace now, he might have found his match. The Prince grins and he bids his mount to approach Taemin. However, he was one step too late.
Taemin spares a quick glance to his side when a white mount come within reach, its eyes fixed ahead in focus. The rider, Kai, smiles knowingly at him and the young warlock dwells on the meaning behind those curved lips. Kai gives his horse the cue to lengthen his stride and it goes ahead of Alastor. Taemin instantly understands. He accepts the challenge and squeezes his calves and heels on Alastor’s side, not wanting to lose the race.
Greyfell’s strides falter and eventually, it comes to a trot. A gripping frustration plagues Minho and he tries to sort the numerous words that come to mind.
“Would you look at that.” A feminine voice draws nearer from behind. The Queen rides besides Minho, a smile poised on her lips and her long braid pulled over her right shoulder. She wore her new riding habit that had Nairn’s crest sewn on the back, prominently and proudly presenting a royalty. The King follows closely besides her, looking over the racing two.
“Taemin is an excellent horseman.” Changmin says, nodding in impressments. “I’ve never seen Jongin so intent on winning. I’d imagine Minho in his place right now.”
“Against Taemin? I’d rather him not assume any possibility to win over me.” Minho promptly replies, tho he knows Taemin is the only one who dares to confront, defy and brave up to him. It would be a shame to pass up anything when it comes to dealing with one such person. In his case, there’s only Taemin. A match with him is a great welcome because Minho finds Taemin’s rows of quarrels and arguments keep him from boredom these days.
“Gentlemen, as much as I enjoy riding, I wasn’t referring to whatever has caught either of your interests. My notion is purely what you can see in one simple glance! They look good together.” His Mother explains, smiling cheerfully. What she meant to say is that Taemin and Jongin look like a twin, they have surprisingly similar visage.
But Minho blindly perceives her words as otherwise. It obviously bothered him, however, he’d rather not submit to what he currently suffers as what Taemin described ‘jealousy’. Why would he, in the first place? Taemin do say ridiculous stuff sometimes and Minho wonders why it stirs him up so much.
Feeling nonsensical and warm all of the sudden, Minho kicks the side of his horse and he gradually gains speed, leaving behind his parents. There’s one argument that Minho still dwells until now. No matter how many times Taemin disagrees, Minho strongly believes that his manservant should be loyal and faithful to him, that Taemin should be closer to him and not friendlier with other Master. As of late, Minho comes across Taemin and Jongin together and he doesn’t really fancy the sight.
Right now, Minho witnesses Taemin’s blissful grin as the boy rides beside his brother, who seems thrilled by the race they set up. The Crown Prince, feeling unwittingly impulsive, prompts his mount to stride faster, not wanting to be left behind. Minho’s eyes set on the ground for a moment.
A small ball of white unexpectedly scampers right in front of Greyfell’s path. Distinctly recognizing it as a rabbit kit, Minho pulls the reins of his horse in panic and fear of hurting the harmless creature. Greyfell’s steps cease in no time and he bucks up, neighing loudly in shock, managing to toss Minho from his back while the rabbit kit runs away in fright.
Althea and Changmin, startled to see Minho hit the ground with a loud thud, hurry to their son’s side. Taemin glances to his back upon hearing Greyfell’s cry. As soon as he sees Minho propped on the ground with the Queen at his side, he knows there’s something wrong. As they neared, they could hear the Queen huffing worriedly at Minho.
“What happened?” Taemin asks, dismounting. Minho spares a quick, heated glance at him.
“Nothing.” He replies nonchalantly.
“Greyfell was speeding up.” Althea explains instead. “But Minho sort of stopped him. It bucked up and forced Minho off its back.”
“Were you avoiding something?” Taemin asks Minho again. The Prince decides not to answer as he felt like it. The young warlock is at a complete loss why Minho appears furious at him.
Minho tries to stand by pushing himself up but he immediately retracts his left hand from touching the ground and hisses in pain. Taemin can gauge from his reaction that he hurt himself. The young warlock gets to Alastor and detaches the saddlebag he put on earlier.
“Show it to me.” Taemin instructs Minho as he kneels by the Prince’s side.
“Why would I?” Minho refuses, scooting away from his manservant.
“Just show it to me.” Taemin matches Minho’s fiery eyes with his. Althea, the nearest observer at Minho’s side, stares in interest as do her husband and her other child.
“You don’t tell me to do things.” Minho says, stubbornly resisting Taemin.
The latter, on the other hand, bites his lower lip. He suppresses the desire to yell at the Prince all the thoughts that went through his mind. To think he was concerned about Minho’s welfare a minute ago. However he can’t. Not with the presence of the Queen and the King. Taemin will try a different reproach.
“Come! Oh my dear shy Prince!” He pleads, instantly catching Minho’s attention. “I am deeply concerned for your wellbeing! Do you not see? It is as clear as your beautiful doe eyes that you need help! Will you not hear my fretful plea?” Taemin stresses on sarcastically with a hint of sadness in his own eyes and a mocking grin playing on his lips.
Somewhere along the line, Minho caught the drift and now, he just wants to smack the back of Taemin’s head. The young warlock prays that the Prince stops being stubborn and heed quietly. This man had been nothing but trouble and dilemma for him.
“You’re sick, Taemin. The only one who needs help here is you.” Minho scoffs at and tries to stand again. Annoyed and driven livid, Taemin grips his fist and smacks the top of Minho’s head.
“Don’t be such a willful child! Why can’t you just listen to me and stay put when I tell you to?!” He bellows, surprising the audience greatly while Minho writhes in pain.
“You didn’t have to hit me!” Minho complains.
“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so stubborn!” The latter retorts. Taemin tugs the Prince’s hand and examines the grazed marks on his palm covered by crimson blood. Minho had scraped his palm on a coarse, flat stone half buried in soil earlier. The young warlock pulls out the leather water container from his saddle and pours the cool water over the wound.
Althea glances to his husband, who eyed her back with pure amazement and relief. Kai breaks into a smile upon seeing his parents who seems pleased to learn why Minho could settle down with Taemin. He needs Taemin. They have seen none who can handle Minho the way Taemin did and eventho it was faint, they can see the spark between the two. Althea’s heart waltzes in happiness.
“Ow!” Minho yanks his hand away when Taemin attempts to apply a creamy concoction on his wound.
“Don’t be such a girl, Minho. I barely touched it.” Taemin comments and snatches the taller man’s hand again. The touch of Taemin’s hand to his is strikingly cold and Minho found himself gazing at Taemin’s side profile as his wound is treated. It’s a little comforting to see his manservant does indeed, bear concerns for his welfare. Minho is not keen on the thought of Taemin hating him.
“There. Do you want me to dress the wound?” Taemin asks, catching Minho’s eyes that had stared back for a little more than a moment. Minho pulls his hand away.
“No, there’s no need for that.” He answers and stands up, leaving behind Taemin and the rest of the group to be at Greyfell’s side, half a dozen trees away. Taemin let out a sigh and begins to collect the medication bottle into his saddlebag. Until his eyes sees three pairs of boots in front of him and looks up slowly to spot the King, the Queen and Kai gazing back at him. Reminded at how he behaved towards Minho, the Crown Prince himself earlier, Taemin gasps in shock.
“I think we should call it a day, My Lord.” Althea smiles lovingly. King Changmin nods in agreement.
~o~
The wind blows a fallen leaf that rested on a closed windowpane of the Nairn castle. The fragile sheet scuffles up in the air current, falling short on reaching the vermilion sky before it gracefully descends on the soil and crunched under a man’s boot on his way home.
The cold draft coming in from Minho’s chamber’s window sends a chill up his naked top. The Prince closes the wooden panel urgently, thinking that the next season is stepping closer each passing moon. The tip of Taemin’s fingers goes numb each time he empties the water from the heavy buckets to fill Minho’s bath.
“Make sure it’s warm enough.” Minho says from behind the screen as he peels off his pants. Taemin, blinking twice at the sudden hint, hurriedly dips his left hand into the tub. The young warlock gets a little flustered when he ascertain that the temperature is not, in any way, warm enough for Minho. But he calms down and closes his eyes, with his hand still dip into the cooling water.
“Fir oumrye.” Taemin chants in a whisper. As his eyes glazed over a glassy light blue for a flash, an ethereal warmth spread through the water in the tub. Minho comes out from the other side of the screen with a towel covering his bottom. Taemin straightens up and smiles widely.
“Go ahead.” He gestures. Minho eyed him suspiciously at first, but the Prince comes into the tub nonetheless. The clean water rubs off the grime and he can feel the warmth absorbing the fatigue and exhaustion from his muscles and essences. Minho splatters water onto his face. He sighs in satisfaction and closes his eyes.
“Even Taemin can do the right job at times, huh?” Minho jests with a playful grin. Taemin glares at the man after he picked up the clothes strewn on the floor. He vividly recalls the accident a few days past, when he was carrying out the same job; Taemin lifted a bucket and unfortunately slipped on the watery stone floor, fell harshly on his back and fainted right after the empty bucket hit his head.
“Minho, if you’re still talking about that.. I’ll smack you again.” Taemin warns as he walks to the laundry basket next to the wardrobe and drops the clothing article, all the while watched by the Prince.
“You know I was the one who lifted you up?” Minho inquires.
“Yes. And you slapped me awake.” Taemin replies. His master chuckles.
“Only once. You woke up right after that. You should have seen yourself.” Says Minho, then laughs a little, earning a glare from Taemin.
“Stop laughing, it’s not funny.” The young warlock utters bitterly, then pouts. He glances to the laundry basket again, his hands on his hips. “I’ll leave you to your laughing then, Prince. I’m sending your laundry downstairs.” Taemin proclaims sulkingly. To his manservant’s words, Minho whirls around immediately and the tub water splashes loudly in reply.
“No, wait! Stay.” Minho calls out, halting Taemin who’s halfway towards the mahogany door. The boy looks back at him with a perplexed expression, the basket clutched under his right arm.
“Why should-“
“Just stay.” Minho cut his words, adding fume to his tone. “That’s an order.”
Taken aback, Taemin stood rigid for a moment but soon regains his composure and Minho sees his manservant’s brows crease together. It wasn’t long before a mouthful of defying comments burst out of Taemin’s small lips. Good, he thought.
Minho knows that every time Taemin sends his laundry downstairs, he would pass by the bout grounds and Jongin would call out to him and pretty soon, the two would engross themselves into a friendly conversation that serves Minho’s eyes soreness and his mind some distress. He had been watching their development for quite some time. Why would someone like Taemin be closer to his own brother than himself? Minho can’t possibly accept that.
Taemin felt the need to talk back to Minho and he tries to sound a little subtle because lately, he has been lashing on Minho a lot. And although it is not his own volition, Taemin do feel a tad bit guilty for that. However, now he’s just plain baffled. Minho complained he doesn’t do his work properly, but when Taemin wants to do the work he is usually urged on, Minho commands him to stay. Who wouldn’t go enraged?
Seeing that a small smile is gracing Minho’s feature, Taemin pauses his whining. “Now what’s gotten into you?” The Prince perks up at the attention.
“Nothing. Just thinking that pouting really suits you.” He answers.
“Someday, I’ll drown you in that tub.” Taemin curses.
“Never mind that, come and massage me.” Minho says casually, turning his back towards Taemin. The latter gazes at his broad shoulders with bewilderment. “And that’s an order too.” He adds. Altho pissed, Taemin complies nevertheless.
“I hate you so much.” Taemin murmurs as his hands work on the smooth skin.
“I heard that.” Minho responds, shutting his eyes to relinquish Taemin’s kneading that leaves a nice, relaxing sensation on his shoulders.
A crow’s distant calling from outside sounds clearer and crispier now that both of them stop talking, a sign for the rest of its kind to return to their nest for a night’s rest. Minho’s thoughts wander to the reports he needs to handle by the next daylight but the weight of dozing off pretty soon topples over those strenuous notions.
Taemin realizes that Minho is snoozing off as soon as the Prince’s head nods forward a couple of times. Pleased, Taemin stops massaging his shoulders. But then Minho starts to mumble something. The warlock draws nearer to listen, feeling the bath’s warm steam blowing on his face.
“Don’t stop..” Minho mutters, his mouth slightly agape and his cheeks tinted a slight pink. From the tips of his wet hair, water drips ever so slowly and his head lolls to the left slightly every time he nods. Taemin chuckles at the sight.
“You can appear cute too, I see.” He says to himself. Taemin is about to pull back when he hears a few words coming out of Minho’s lips again.
“Stupid Tae..min..” Minho faintly murmurs, snapping something inside Taemin.
“I take my words back. You have the ugliest mug ever existed.” The young warlock murmurs back, wondering why he is talking to the sleeping Prince. Taemin straightens up and sighs.
The corner of his eye catches a flash of light from a far and Taemin flicks a glance to the object. It is a silver letter opener left unattended on Minho’s desk, bouncing lights flickered towards it. In that mere silent moment, a heinous question creeps into Taemin’s mind.
Why shouldn’t he finish Minho now?
Taemin glances around, eventho he knows he will find no one. His heartbeats steadily intensify. Breathing within the bounds of the four walls are Minho and him, alone. There’s no excusable reason to not attempt assassination, what with Minho dozing in his bath and all. Taemin feels like there’s something wrong with the idea, but as grueling it is to remove the concern occupying his mind now, the heavier the responsibility resting on him weigh up. Anxiety builds up in him. Tension in the air riles animatedly.
Taemin gulps down the nonexistent lump in his throat. A bead of sweat rolls down his jaw. He licks his dry lips and wonders why his gullet has suddenly gone parched.
“Owaten mich.” Taemin chants, sounding ever so wispily. His eyes gleam and the letter opener that he chose to use as a weapon lift from the table and soar towards his direction. Once the cold metal comes into his grip, Taemin’s hand starts trembling. He is so far terrified that he no longer knows why.
Taemin tightens his grip. He glances to Minho’s peaceful back, sucking in and releasing deep breaths of sleep. Nightfall is fast approaching. The young warlock holds up the silver and closes his eyes. He releases his breath.
And he swings his hand down.
But then there’s a knock and the door flung open. Taken in surprise and panicked, Taemin gasps, drops the letter opener into the bath and on the spur of the moment, hugs Minho’s back tightly. The Prince awakens in alarm as the water splashes loudly. Someone came in but Taemin shuts his eyes as the fear of being discovered seized him still. A pregnant silence follows right after.
Minho doesn’t understand. Not even a bit. It felt like he blinked and lost track of everything in one second. How did he fell asleep in the presence of someone he never been at peace with? Why is Taemin hugging him tightly? Why is Taemin’s heart beating fastly?
“Oh my.” Came a womanly voice. Minho glances at her direction. “How intimate.” She chuckles.
“Mother?” The Prince dubs. Taemin, endowed with realization, part from Minho’s back with a horrid fluster.
“Y-Your Majesty!” Taemin bends for a bow. He spares another look at her loving expression, adorning a perceptive smile for the viewers. She doesn’t seem to have an air of a witness of anything out of the ordinary so Taemin tries to pull himself together, strictly willing his heartbeats to slow down.
“What were you two doing?” Althea inquires. It seems like she had interrupted their private moment and something’s grinding at the back of her mind that she didn’t turn up at the precise time but her heart thrilled at the mere thought of it. Catching people in surprise is one of her wicked passion.
“I-I was, um, massaging Min- the Prince.” Taemin says.
“And apparently, I fell asleep through it.” Minho adds, sensing that Taemin is a little out of sorts. “Why are you here Mother? Shouldn’t you get ready for the banquet?”
“Yes, I know dear. Everyone is fussing around the castle.” She says. “I think I’m already ready, right how I am. Beauty is written all over my face, right?” Althea jests whilst smiling charmingly and her son laughs at her frankness.
“I can see that very well. But why come all the way here?” Minho inquires, curious to hear her reason.
“Can’t I be in my own son’s chamber?” The Queen says, strolling casually towards the canopy bed, draped with a transparent sandy cloth on its roof. She runs her hand on the satin smooth, made coverlet. “I still remember decorating your room myself.” Althea clasps her hands together over her chest, her eyes a distant-like glimmer as her younger days flash before her.
“I’m bathing, Mother.” Minho gives notice, figuring he should come out of the bath by now and wondering if his mother takes note of the sight.
“Aw, come on Minho. I used to bathe you all the time! And you were so keen on having a naked adventure and would jump out of the tub and ran out the room every single time. I would howl ‘Prince’s little butt!’, then everyone went frantic chasing you, yelling ‘Prince! Prince!’ after you.” Althea recollects, imbuing heavy embarrassment within his son.
“Pfft.” Taemin snickers, grinning at the revelations. Sensing Minho’s glare on himself, Taemin quickly tries to chase away the amusement but finding it to no avail. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”
“Would you like to hear the rest?” Althea offers.
“Mother!” Minho shouts with fluster and the Queen laughs in respond. If there’s anything Minho hates to see happening in present, it is Taemin listening to his own mortifying tale of childhood escapade. His mother seems to have taken a light on shedding his cool composure and Minho attempts to steer the conversation elsewhere.
Taemin’s lips graces a smile as he gaze at the bond between the two. You can never sever water, not even with the sharpest blade and the same principle manifests in the link between a child and its parent. There’s no affection in this world that could ever be on par with the love amongst a family that shares laughter, sadness, contentment and melancholy. It is something different. For a second, the young warlock found himself willing to give up everything and wishing he would have that ‘something’. But the thought withdraws before long.
“Actually, I came to see Taemin.” Althea professes unexpectedly.
“Me?” Taemin gives her a blank look. “Why?”
“I have something to give you.” She says, beaming serenely. “I was born into a noble family. Served by many as the Lady of the House and I’ve lived long enough to know.” Althea began. “People go a long way to win the hearts of their monarchs. They would rather be regarded as submissive and unvoiced, distancing themselves firmly so they don’t get more than what they bargained for. However, Taemin, you displayed something that made me marvel. I don’t dare name it, but I don’t hate.” The Queen affirms, making way to the said boy and entrusts an ornament she had in palm in his. “It’s a pleasure to have you here.” She adds lastly.
Astonished and speechless, Taemin’s eyes scan the item the Queen handed over to him that felt cold to his touch. It is a silver bracelet, adorned with a round Larimar stone and intricately engraved on its clasp. For one moment, he is deeply taken by its splendor but he quickly declines.
“I can’t have this, Your Majesty. It’s too much for someone like me.” He says. In fact, he doesn’t even deserve the praises the Queen showered him. Not even a slight bit. If anyone should want Taemin to disappear from the face of the world, it should be the mother of the person he vowed to kill. And she’s standing in front of him. He hadn’t done anything productive for any sides, nor Nairn, neither Namyrur. Why should he be appreciated?
She has just known this child today, but Althea loathes seeing him miserable. But that’s exactly what he is showing. She is clueless about the sad thoughts going through his mind. The least she could do is offer a kind smile. But she has no intent to leave with the bracelet so she takes his wrist and fasten the ornament.
“I insist. Please.” Althea implores. Taemin flickers a gaze at Minho, not knowing why he is doing so. Maybe he hoped for help.
“I don’t see why you shouldn’t take it, Taemin.” The Prince says, smiling charmingly at him. Taemin is not the most excellent manservant, but Minho knows he can rely on him. “I insist too, on my Mother’s behalf.”
Taemin has a heavy heart on agreeing, but the situation shows sign of retaining only one way out.
“Alright.” He says and Althea releases a breath of gladness. “I thank you, Your Majesty. It is very beautiful.” Taemin smiles at her, figuring that thinking too deeply would only hurts himself and grieving all the time brings him nowhere.
“Now that my mission is done, if you’ll excuse me, I have to return to my Lady-in-waiting that is probably out looking for me.” The Queen says and takes her leave.
“Come here, Taemin.” Minho summons. The Prince takes his hand and examines the bracelet. “It’s the same stone as my pendant.”
“Now that you remind me.. It is.” Taemin exclaims.
“My mother’s really nice, right?” Minho asks, a cheery grin sliding on his lips. “Do you like it?”
“I’m more than grateful.” Taemin smiled back.
“I guess Mother really likes this stone. I rarely see her give gifts, partly because she’s often out of the Kingdom, but on some occasion, she gives the same stone.”
“It’s Larimar. It’s time you learn the name, Minho.” Taemin tells the Prince.
“O shush. There are just too many stones and too different names.” He complains.
“Yep and all Princes are too busy to remember a handful of them, right?” Taemin teases playfully. Baffled, Minho reach to pinch his manservant’s cheek, but the boy withdraws faster.
“You should go and get ready. I think I’ll be fine on my own.” The Prince decides. Taemin tilts his head.
“Get ready? With what?”
“Gee, I don’t know.” Minho crows naively, then splash water on Taemin’s clothes, making him gasp and his tunic drenched. “A change of clothes, perhaps?” Minho suggests, grinning.
“I should have just drowned you.” Taemin nags while the man only laughs in reply.
~o~
Moments later, Taemin’s presence switch at his own chamber and he rested on his bed, eyeing Onew who was sitting on his desk, going through a book opened before him. The older man’s expression was bemused and his jaw was slacked open at the story Taemin had just told him. Then, he closes his book and turns to face the young warlock, a sign of a momentous seriousness.
“A bracelet, Taemin?” He asks again.
“Yes, a bracelet. What’s wrong with it?” Taemin wonders why he appears so stunned. Onew sighs.
“I think I owe you an apology.”
“And an explanation at that. What is it? What’s wrong?” Taemin asks, curiosity blooming bigger within him.
“Your kin, Taemin, or to make things clearer, Namyrurians has a custom that runs since long ago. A custom that was a belief even in the legends of Namyrur.” Onew says.
“That is?” Taemin prompts. Onew’s gaze at him is unwavering, critical, perhaps in hope that Taemin too, will put faith in the said ‘custom’. It certainly never appeared in his night dreams.
“One’s act to accept ornaments with gems is to accept the gift of betrothal.” Onew answers. The words buffer in Taemin’s mind, until he understands it completely.
“What- in the five hells?!!” Taemin shrieks, instantly sitting up on his bed. “Wait, wait, wait! So- does this mean, no, it can’t be, who would kid with- Onew!” He roars.
“How was I supposed to know that this kind of occasion would happen?” The older man fends.
“But it doesn’t apply on me right? I-I mean, even if the custom said so, the Queen has no daughter.”
“It actually depends on the circumstances as well. Who was with you at that time?” Onew inquires.
“Only the Queen.. And Minho, of course.” Taemin replies. Onew’s face immediately darkens.
“Then, who actually asked you to accept it?” Onew asks further. Taemin vividly remembers the event.
“The Queen… and Minho too.”
“Um..” Onew stalls. Taemin has always thought himself sensible and right now, he kind of gets the whole idea.
“Does this mean..?” He asks, dreading the answer from Onew.
“Taemin… You are betrothed to Prince Minho.” The older man gravely declares. Abhorrence and revulsion quickly fill Taemin up.
“O my god, kill me.” Taemin whines, collapsing forward and pressing his face onto the mattress. “What, so do I have to marry Minho now?” He asks, voice muffled by the bedspread, thinking that this is ridiculous.
“Long engagements were pretty common for formal arranged marriages and it was not uncommon for parents betrothing children to arrange it many years before the engaged couple is old enough to marry.” Onew says.
“We both know I’m old enough.” Taemin states. He makes a resolution and he’s going to hold it true. “I have decided to ignore this matter!” He says, and then makes an escape from the room. Onew stares at the door flung open by the young warlock, sighing deeply.
“How absurd is this, Jaejoong? Your only son is engaged to the Prince of Nairn.”
~o~
Heralds perform their work elaborately this evening. The banquet is attended by many officials and the nobility of all ranks arrive at the castle from their lodgings in neighboring towns. The ballroom is graced by the presence of Barons, Marquises, Counts, Dukes and an Archduke. The grandiose chandelier hung high on the ceiling and prized tapestries depicting Nairn’s Provinces crests are draped on the stone wall.
Taemin stood with a wine jug in hand behind Minho’s seat, erected on a scaffold next to the King’s and Queen’s and Jongin’s that overlook the entire scope of the room. The well-dressed nobility scatter around the food tables, talking with modest pretense and glorifying their own title with one another.
Like Minho, behind Jongin’s seat stood his manservant. Althea’s maidservant and Lady-in-waiting stood behind her seat while Changmin’s chamberlain and advisor stood behind his own. One after the other, the guests comes up the scaffold to greet the royal family, issuing praises and honoring names.
Taemin’s job is mainly to make sure Minho’s goblet is not empty. And he pours the wine for the Prince again, who seems a little lifeless.
“You seem down.” Taemin whispers after a Count and his wife finish their greetings and the next noble is looming nearer.
“I’m not.” Minho denies.
“Whatever you say, then.” Taemin replies. They didn’t chat for about two couples of noble, until Minho had enough of coping to himself.
“My friend is supposed to be here. He couldn’t attend it and sent a representative from his House instead.” Minho confesses, sighing.
“Are you bored?” Taemin asks.
“Well, I was looking forward on seeing him. Banquets have never been a source of pleasure. Having a partner to talk with is my only breakout.” The Prince sips his drink. Taemin glances to Kai.
“Your brother doesn’t seem bothered.” He speaks with a low voice, keeping his gaze down when a Baron begins his greetings. Some nobles don’t fancy meeting eyes with mere servants.
“He’s demure. Has always been like that.” Minho answers, all the while feigning a smile to the Baron.
“And you’re the opposite?” Taemin quips.
“Shut up, Taemin.” Minho grumbles and Taemin suppresses his chuckle. When the Baron finally leaves, Minho finishes his wine from his goblet again; not noticing the next patron has already taken his place in front of the royal table.
“Take it easy there, Prince.” The man salutes. Minho perks up at the attention.
“Lord Hugh.” He replies, his smile fading. Taemin flicks a glance to the auburn haired man, whose eyes carry a curious glint. He can subsequently feel the atmosphere growing stiffer and wonders who the broad shouldered man is.
“Hugh, I thank you for coming. How is everyone faring back home?” The Queen asks courteously.
“Everyone is well, Your Majesty.” He bows, with his hand on his chest. “I heard your most recent expedition went exceptionally favorable. How reassuring it was when I heard the news to find it would benefit the Clan in every way possible.”
“I strive to bring comfort to the Clan, surely you have foreseen this? Knowing you, I probably wouldn’t have to send reports en route for Craycia. Your influence is more than significant to bring hearsay from the Kingdom.” Althea replies.
“You flatter me, Your Majesty. I’m merely a fortunate man blessed with a noble birth. Hadn’t I shared your blood, no one would spare their impressions on me. I’m indebted to you, sister.” Hugh expresses, smiling but Taemin find that the smile won’t reach his eyes.
He is neither roguish nor ill-behaved but he seems like one who can hide intentions behind smiles, lace words with discrete meanings and portrays heavy suspicion as if he aspires to plant the very feeling within his audiences. He wants people to be wary of him, to have them listen carefully of what he speaks about. Taemin is not akin to it.
The Lord soon shifts his talk with the King, discussing lightly on reports and soliciting the King’s views on things and compared them to his. Hugh’s words do not appear dishonest, that much Taemin can tell and he is nothing alike other nobles. He doesn’t dish out major compliments or recalling achievements. It is more like he is judging himself against the King. Taemin find him very worthy of note. Hugh leaves right after the Queen requests him to send regards for the Clan.
“Who was that?” Taemin whispers at Minho.
“I’m surprised you don’t know him.” The Prince replies. “He is Lord and Clan Chief Hugh Alyenora, the Archduke of Craycia Province and older brother of the Queen.”
“Sounds like a big man.” Taemin stares at the man from a far. “Why was he… like that?” He isn’t sure what to name the character, there’s a lot to put under a word.
“He is odd as usual.” Minho says. “There’s a story behind it. I’ll tell you later.” Taemin is curious about him, but he’ll have to wait.
The banquet ensues until the night bell rang and before long, one by another carriage departs from where they hail. Cold wind blows softly pass the open arch and rolling under the bridge where a long-tailed cat rests on its rail, yawning mutedly. The moon vanishes behind travelling clouds.
Minho was about to retire to his own chamber with Taemin closely following behind him when a pageboy came rushing to him. He relayed a message that the court has been summoned. Taemin wanted to pass the offer but then he found out that Tomas Elyot has come to allot his opinion regarding the research on Namyrur Kingdom. How could the young warlock possibly pass up the chance to listen?
The court is attended by the usual officials and some remaining nobles who chose to listen. Reports of court decisions are sent to all Provinces but apparently, they fancy witnessing it first-hand. Onew is also present. King Changmin and his wife sat on their pedestal and Tomas bows to them before commencing.
“I thank you for granting me an audience, Your Majesties and I am truly sorry to impose on your celebration night.” He says.
“You needn’t be so modest, Tomas. I haven’t seen you in a long time.” Althea replies with a smile to which Tomas promptly replies. The Queen knew Tomas, grew up watching the older man travel back and forth from their same hometown to other parts of the Kingdom.
“Forgive me for not being here to join your homecoming party. I was away to another city.”
“Hence?” Changmin asks. “Have you come to present your opinion?” Tomas’ lips pull into a grim line. He heaves a deep breath.
“My timely research has come to little fruition, Your Majesty. I offer you my deepest apologies for my lack of function.” He says, dipping into a bow once more. “However, I happen to collect some proofs that took nearly ten years of my life to convince myself on settling a single conclusion, tho I still cannot claim the exact existence of this matter that perchance, had been the greatest asset of Namyrur Kingdom.”
“What is this matter you’re speaking of?” King Changmin prompts, feeling himself gearing up. Everyone listen closely, holding their breath as they wait for Tomas to continue. Taemin’s heart clenches in anxiety.
“Their association with magic.” The Royal Commisioner reveals. Some tilt their heads in confusion, some gasps in wonderment, some chatter to demand explanation but most know that it really did exist once; one such thing called Magic. Taemin’s heart hammers wildly.
“Magic, you say?” The King asks, testing if he heard right.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Arcane techniques that had probably been molded to conceal itself within the pages of history. Because of its extremely mighty nature that exceeds logic and common knowledge, it had proven very difficult to study for. Before long, we can see clearly that this subject has waned beyond savior in the present world and its scholars perished.” Tomas clarifies.
“You mean to say..” Althea asks, having in mind what the man is trying to imply.
“Yes, the scholars I mentioned is the matter we are looking into; Namyrurians.” Tomas confirms.
“Five hells…” Taemin mutters under his breath. He is quite taken aback but it is not like he hasn’t foreseen this. Calming himself down, Taemin glances to Onew, who appears to be deep in his own thoughts.
“I do not mean to speculate that such unfeasible conclusion would answer the queries you have inside your rational mind, Your Majesty. And I do not mean to disgrace my name by making baseless inference.” Tomas continues.
“But even tho I pride myself as a seasoned historian and had dedicated myself solemnly to pursue records, stories, chronicles, memoirs and accounts that has long lost in the flow of time, I am ashamed to admit that I’ve never come close to discovering anything regarding Namyrur Kingdom. In fact, nobody ever has.” Tomas casts his eyes down in grief. “We know it existed and we also know it vanished during your grandfather’s reign, Your Majesty. Every historian thirsts for its wisdom.”
The King shuts his eyes and heaves a silent sigh. “I am your sovereign. But Tomas, I do not possess all the knowledge in the world. I’m afraid I will have to ask of your suggestion to deal with this matter. Something you can reasonably make out of your opinion. I find your advices very helpful these past few days.” He decrees. Tomas bows again, grateful at the compliment he was blessed with.
“If it is going to take a lifetime to unearth the vanished, prosperous Kingdom of Namyrur, I plan to try every scheme possible.” The historian states. “Would Your Majesty fancy on hunting magicians?”
“Hunt?” King Changmin utters. Everyone is baffled. They chatter quietly amongst themselves.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I am quite sure they are lurking around. In this age and generation, some very bright and intelligent people have conducted research on what they named alchemy. You’ve heard of this before, My Lord?” Tomas inquires.
“Yes, during my father’s reign, their assembly was banished.” Changmin replies.
“Correct. They were banished because their studies were of unknown nature and carried infinite possibilities that could pose a threat on the Kingdom’s safety. I figure we can start hun-“
“Pardon.” Althea cut Tomas’ words, earning every attention immediately.
“Yes, Your Majesty?” The Royal Commisioner asks.
“I’m afraid I cannot support this suggestion, Tomas.” She declares. “I consider there is an element amiss.”
“What is it, my love?” The King prompts.
“Why not try a softer approach?” Althea poses. Taemin’s earlier alarm began to soothe and he beholds an uncanny hope to the idea she speaks of. It should be far better than ‘hunt’ that sounds a little more than menacing. The Court too, regard at her with high opinion.
“You see, if we want to learn about their Kingdom, why should we treat it as if it is an enemy? We have done that before and it steered us to war. We should try to open up our doors and welcome them before we want to enter theirs. With violence, we will probably lose more than we gain. And also, we have to expand our view and see what the clue is. Perhaps, magic can be a force of good?” The Queen discloses, receiving a few small talks of agreement amid the members of the Court. Both Taemin and Onew look at her with amazement, not expecting for this turn-out.
“Indeed, it is another open prospect..” Tomas murmurs to himself, reservedly accepting the sincere idea of the Queen.
“Do you have any proposal then, my dear?” Changmin inquires, his interest swelling. Althea smiles even brighter.
“Actually, yes.”
~o~
The toils of the Court finishes as soon as midnight ticked on pocket watches. The castle slip quietly into a rest after the members returned to respective chambers while guards stay awake to defend the fort.
Minho changes into his night attire and lean on his perched pillows with the blanket swept over him in a clutter. The hearth is livened with a friendly fire, offering warmth to share with the chamber’s occupants. Taemin sits on the bed by Minho’s side, taking the Prince’s hand in his to clean the wounds from his ride this morning and to dress it up for comfort.
“I can’t believe we are actually announcing for magician employment tomorrow. Mother is mind-blowing.” Minho says. He waits for his manservant to say something but no words came. “Are you listening, Taemin?”
“Huh? Oh sorry.” Taemin wakes from his trance. “It’s been a long day.” He returns to applying herbal concoction on Minho’s palm as pale moonlight that streamed from the window casts soft illustrations on his fair face. The Prince stared at his manservant, wondering why the pretty boy seems a little out of sorts. Taemin keeps the silence and Minho remains awaiting for words from him.
There are just too much for Taemin to digest. He is a little torn apart and his belief shakes every time he rethinks of the events that are unveiling. Is he to carry out his mission as the child of Namyrur? Or is he uselessly trying to prolong the war that this Kingdom is not aware that it hasn’t ended just yet? He glances to Minho, whom he found was peering at him.
“What do you think of magic, Minho?” Taemin asks. The Prince took a few moments to answer.
“Magical, I guess.” Minho answers. Taemin gave him a look that says ‘Really?’
“You’re really a person of words. That was very helpful.” Taemin scoffs and the Prince laughs.
“Magic is…” Minho tries again, catching Taemin’s interest. “A wonder. It will probably put me in awe.”
“Awe?” The young warlock tilts his head.
“I meant, if I ever saw it.” Minho says. But then, Taemin seems to drift away again and as much as he tries not to dwell on it, Minho finds himself more intrigued.
“Are you upset with anything Taemin?” Minho asks as Taemin reaches for the bandage from the sidetable.
“Upset?”
“Yeah, are you upset with the Court’s decision or something?” Taemin can’t say nay. He wasn’t sure what’s there to be ‘upset’ for. Nor did it bring glee to his heart. If anything, it confused him to great lengths.
“It’s just a little…. Mystifying. I never ever thought that the Kingdom would want to employ magicians.” The young warlock says, bizzarely wondering if he should sign up for it.
“Me neither. But I don’t let it get to me right now.” Minho states and Taemin gazes back into his eyes. “I’m tired too, Taemin. And I find that your usual prattle put me at ease. It pains me to say that I actually miss it.”
Taemin can feel himself loosening. He actually agrees with Minho. Maybe he should just rest his mind and put the case down for a little while. There is always tomorrow, for god’s sake. Taemin’s lips pull up a soft smile and his cheeks swell at the action.
“I take it you mean to say you’re actually a masochist?” He comments and Minho grins.
“There you are.” The Prince says and they laugh. Nasty and eye-catching, Minho thought.
“Oh yeah, that reminds me..” Taemin exclaims, pausing his handwork on the bandages. “You promised me Lord Hugh’s story.”
“Ah, that..” Minho answers. “Well, how do I start?” He thinks for a moment, arranging words in his mind, tousled by images of the history lesson he learnt from his tutor when he was young.
“As you are aware of,” Minho began. “Nairn Kingdom is made up of nine Provinces. The capital city used to be in Craycia Province and there lived our primary Emperor of the House of Craycia. When the Clan fell to tragedy and the only line of throne robbed by fire, Vawdrey Province was elected to be the new capital because the Archduke back then was the Lord of the Vawdrey Province.”
“Wait. Why prioritize the Archduke? What of the other nobles?” Taemin asks.
“Archduke Rank is on par with the rank of a Crown Prince. If anything should happen to the throne line, the Archduke has the authority to take over the throne.” Minho explains. “How come you don’t even know that basic thing?”
“Just- carry on.” Taemin huffs.
“Well, as I said, the Archduke of Vawdrey Province took over the throne. The Alyenora Clan was the biggest supporter of the House of Craycia and bear grudges toward the House of Vawdrey, accusing that they don’t deserve the throne. Lord Hugh happened to be quite fanatical on this matter since his childhood. People can’t tell if he remains negative to this present day. That is why Father, me and Jongin is quite… indifferent with him.” Minho says.
“I’m surprised the Queen hails from the Alyenora Clan. Was the marriage between your parents arranged?” Taemin asks.
“Not really. There were tension between the families but my Father and Mother, they met, fell in love and eventually married. As simple as that.” Minho answers, shrugging his shoulders. Then he smiles gently. “When two people are meant for each other, no time is too long, no distance is too far, no one can ever tear them apart.”
Taemin’s eyes that were intent on the bandage he was wrapping on Minho’s palm waver unexpectedly to his own wrist, on the silver Larimar bracelet. Struck with recollection of his kin’s custom, his cheeks pinked. What a strange moment to remember that he is incidentally betrothed to Minho, who talked about love with a tender attitude.
“Since when you have a honeyed tongue?” Taemin sneers, deriving himself of the oddly embarrassing thought. Minho laughs a pleasant and amiable sound to Taemin’s ears.
“Shall I continue until you take back your sarcastic remark about me being a person of words?” Minho crows.
“Don’t you dare.” Taemin warns but can’t help grinning at Minho’s silliness. The Prince doesn’t take heed and starts searching for the right words to astound Taemin. His manservant seemed taken aback by his words of woo earlier and he noticed those fair cheeks blushed and he decided he liked the reaction.
Minho looks around for inspiration, until his eyes land on the remedy Taemin used on his wounded palm and an idea dawns on him. He gently closes his palm, trapping Taemin’s that was wrapping bandage over it. Surprised, the young warlock looks up to meet Minho in the eyes.
“Love is a cure- Both for the one who give it and the one who receive it.” Minho flirts. Stunned, Taemin stared with disbelieve. Then they break into a big laugh together.
“You crazy Prince.” Taemin says, catching his breath. “Well, it’s done.” He announces and Minho looks at his own bandaged hand, frowning unconsciously to himself. Taemin gathers his things and stands up.
“Don’t be late tomorrow, Taemin.” The Prince says, gaining an offended look from Taemin.
“I should use the exact same words on you.” Taemin replies and they share laughter again.
Minho watches Taemin’s retreating frame, feeling a little cheerless at the sight. Taemin twists the knob of the door, all ready to leave. However, he realizes that Minho had just lifted his spirit that was down. All it took was a sincere look of his eyes and a kind smile. And he made Taemin laughed.
“Minho,” The young warlock calls without looking back. “Have a good rest.” He wishes and steps out with a smile.
~o~
Jongin was pacing towards his brother’s room, intending to request his signature on a report that whirled on his own work table by mistake. He figured that finishing his report would leave an open morning for him to venture in the forest and practice archery tomorrow. Along the way, he crosses path with Taemin.
“Has Brother retired for the night?” He asks.
“Yes, all tucked in.” Taemin replies. “Did you want to meet him?”
“I did, but perhaps, I’m out of luck.” Kai sighs. “Are you on your way back?” He asks and Taemin nods at him. “Care for accompany?” He offers.
“Sure.” Taemin smiles back.
They walk in silence, finding comfort with the solitude that the night posed. Until they turn on a corner and cross the bridge that leads to the old wing of the castle that Kai stops to point out the full moon boldly dwelling on the starry sky.
“Now that it reminds me, the Beaver Moon Festival is coming soon. The castle is going to be busy.” Kai says.
“What’s the Beaver Moon Festival?” The young warlock asks which makes Kai puzzled.
“It’s a celebration for the Fall full moon and the legend behind it. It’s celebrated every year, haven’t you partake at all?”
“Err… No. I hadn’t a chance.” Taemin answers, remembering the old days he spent to himself in forests. “Besides, this is my first visit to the castle.”
“I see.” Kai nods in acknowledgement. “Well, you are in for a merry fete. It’ll be very entertaining, I give you my word. The festival lasts for two days. There will be tents of games strewn across the field and the aroma of roast cooking wafting in the air, music playing onstage, Knight tournaments, treasures on bargains and a masquerade ball in the last evening.” He smiles at the shorter boy.
Taemin had participated in Harvest Festivals that small villages celebrate, but he has never been to an elaborate one and he found himself unusually excited. He keeps asking Kai of what kind of games will there be and what kind of snacks will be sold and each answer he harnesses makes his smile grow.
~o~
Minho tossed and turned, finding difficulty in committing to the common task of sleeping. His energy had drained out from his day’s activities as the Commander of the Knights and the banquet had left him more than tired, but his body refuses to give in to rest.
He let out a sigh and turns to the left again, deciding that it is the most comfortable pose. Then, his eyes caught a flash of shimmer and he looks out at the window that views the bridge leading to the castle’s old wing. There are two person standing in the middle, talking to one another and he distinctly recognizes them; Jongin, his brother, and Taemin, whose bracelet bounced moonlight to the Prince’s eyes as his wrist moves about.
The scene is almost amorous, like something you would read between the lines of a romance poem. There are a horde of things that makes Minho uncomfortable and oddly enough, this sight is one of the lots. And as Taemin laughs, Minho suffers an ache that left him wondering if this pain is ‘jealousy’. He feels barren and troubled and mainly, longing for company.
His company.
~o~
A/N: Hey there, it's Chisa. :) I hope you like the chapter. I'm working on the next draft, and I'm not sure what to tell about since I have numerous ideas in line, but you'll be getting your dose of 2min, no worries. It has been such a busy month. Take care of your health, being ill is such a pain. Credits to coffee_sky for providing ideas. Tee-hee.
Tis Taemin's new bracelet:
Now have some sassy King Thranduil on your face
Bye bye flowers.