Archive of Our Own

Huang

When I start to crack, when I’m by myself, when I need your love, if I need your help, would you rescue me?

The first thought that passes through Renjun’s mind is that he wants to go home. He wants to be home. He thinks of the hot pot of kalguksu his mother makes, not caring if the day is a special occasion or not. He thinks of his father’s warm hand on his shoulder as he fondly watches Renjun paint in their backyard. He thinks of the mellow breeze ever-present in their village, ruffling through his hair and the sleeves of his shirt. He thinks of his people, of his parents, of his home. He thinks of each of them and all of them at once with every punch and kick to his body in hopes that his mind is too full of pleasant memories for his brain not to register any of the pain he’s actually presently feeling.

A sharp kick to the back of his knees, and Renjun crumples to the ground, imagining what other landscape he can paint once he gets home. A strike of an elbow to the back of his head, and everything goes black.

While the boys who lived in the houses next to his own grew up with their hands balled into fists or curled around hilts of wooden swords or grips of makeshift archery bows, Renjun grew up with his fingers running through gayageum strings and his hands floating through pieces of parchment or flowing in the air. Even if he too had been born into a military family, Renjun was not like the other boys in his village. He spent a lot of time alone with his instruments and materials, with his music and art. He never got into any fight, real or play.

None of their neighbors talked about or ridiculed Renjun and his hobbies -- at least, not in front of his and his parents’ faces or not anywhere within their earshots. Renjun’s father has always been supportive of Renjun, and since he is respected in their community, nobody dared to speak ill of his son no matter how odd they found his hobbies. If they had thought about it, there had been no dire need for Renjun to be familiar with combat and weaponry anyway, as there had been no war for a long time, much longer than the time Renjun had been born.

Unfortunately, times have changed and with it, people have changed too.

Renjun remembers the time he left his home for the imperial capital as clear as a summer day.

The empire is enclosed by mountain ranges, and Renjun’s village is found nearer to the peak of Mount Seoraksan rather than to the ground beneath it. It’s a long way up and another long way down. By the time their village received news of the attack of the tribes from the northern outskirts of the empire, hundreds of lives and properties had already been lost.

Renjun had been tuning his gayageum in their living room when the blasts of fanfare trumpets and the thunderous gallops of horses filled his ears. Being far up on the tallest mountain in the Taebaek mountain range, it is a rarity for their community to be visited by tourists and merchants, let alone by an envoy from the imperial palace; so even if Renjun usually keeps to himself, he ran to the window and watched as the royal party and his neighbors flocked onto the plaza right across his house.

The fanfare trumpets were still sounding when Renjun’s father ran out of their kitchen and into the living room as quickly as the limp on his left leg could bear. The kitchen rag he was holding fell to the floor midstep. There was a look on his face that Renjun had never seen on his father before. Fear. To Renjun, seeing his father that way seemed alien, unbelievable.

His mother followed shortly after, whatever she had been cooking abandoned on the stovetop. There were specks of flour in her hair, on her face, and on her clothes. She was in disarray, but Renjun had a persistent feeling that it had absolutely nothing to do with the food she was preparing for dinner.

“Stay inside, Renjun-ah,” they told him in hushed but stern voices. Renjun is an obedient son, but he was curious as to what had made his parents, his father most especially, that way. When they rushed outside to join the crowd, he followed them.

An imperial guard was standing on the platform made out of stone in the middle of the plaza. His steely eyes were prominent even under the shadow cast upon his face by his gat. He scanned the whole square, and when he decided that a sufficient number of villagers were already gathered around him, he unrolled the parchment in his hands and began to read aloud from it:

Two sunsets ago, ten thousand armed men from the tribes in the northern outskirts of the empire have descended upon us. They have invaded our lands, they have destroyed every town in their wake, and they have mercilessly slaughtered hundreds of men, women, children, and animals. They are obviously set to attack and to conquer as they steadily make their way to the imperial palace.

Given the situation, Our Majesty, Emperor Lee, has ordered every able-bodied man from each military family to join the imperial army to help restore peace and safety to our country. The soldiers, along with the royal party visiting, must leave for the army campsite before the sun sets today.

Men of farming, fishing, livestock, masonry, and of other non-military families may serve in the imperial army as well, or in other ways necessary to protect our lands and our people.

Silence engulfed the plaza for a moment before everybody present erupted into anxious chatter. Some of the people there began to cry in worry, while some men already ran back to their houses to prepare themselves, their horses, and their belongings for the journey to the capital.

Confused and lost, Renjun stood still in his place despite the commotion that went on around him. There had been no major conflict in the entire empire even before he was brought into this world, and even if his father was a soldier for majority of his younger years, they hardly spoke of wars at home. The last one had nearly killed his father and left him with a permanent limp.

Renjun knew close to nothing about wars. All he has ever known is that there is nothing good about them.

Back in the comfort of their house, Renjun found himself sitting grimly by his gayageum, watching his father pack and his mother weep.

“You can’t leave,” his mother begged her husband. “The emperor needs able-bodied men. You can hardly walk!” his mother reasoned.

His father had been in haste to gather his belongings, not wanting to prolong the agony for his family or for himself, but he calmly set everything aside to envelope his wife in an embrace he could only wish was comforting for her, for the both of them. Renjun’s mother’s shoulders didn’t stop shaking with her every whimper even if his father held her close to him, and Renjun knew that each one of them knew that her shoulders weren’t going to stop trembling while a war was ongoing.

Tears began to cloud Renjun’s vision, but he turned his attention to the window overlooking the plaza before any teardrop could roll down his cheeks. A number of men were already gathered outside; their mothers, sisters, wives, and children were waiting with them, crying for them.

There were a couple of familiar faces in the crowd: the blacksmith and his two sons, one of the farmers his mother would buy ingredients from, and the boy who had asked Renjun if he wanted to shoot targets with him and his friends many years back.

Renjun remembers the day he left his home for the capital clearly, but one thing he can’t seem to recall is whatever it was that pushed him off of their living room floor and into his bedroom to pack his belongings into a rucksack. There wasn’t much to pack. His father’s military uniforms and paraphernalia were already in another bag, and it’s not as if Renjun has any use for his brushes and bottles of ink in the war anyway.

His parents didn’t notice what Renjun had been doing until he picked his father’s rucksack up from where he had left it earlier. Renjun didn’t mind. He thought that it was a good thing he had everything he needed inside the two bags in his hands without his parents interfering. It would have made everything even harder to bear for any of them.

“What are you doing?” his mother asked as soon as she noticed Renjun and the rucksacks in his possession. Her shoulders had stopped shaking, but she was gripping the front of his father’s shirt tightly that it made her knuckles turn white.

“Renjun,” his father started, softly, carefully, fearfully. His father is wise. He knew exactly what Renjun was doing. He knew exactly what could happen to Renjun. “Renjun-ah, give those things to me. Please. You don’t even know how to fight!”

A weighty hand, angry and impatient, had begun to bang repeatedly on their front door. Renjun’s mother started sobbing again, only louder and more desperate this time. His father’s eyes began to overflow with tears, and he looked at Renjun with another expression he had never seen on his father before: despair.

Renjun inhaled deeply albeit shakily. He tightened his hold on his two bags as if it would tighten his hold on his entire heart and his emotions.

“I’m sure I’ll learn how to fight while I’m at the camp. I might even become the best.” He wanted nothing more than to hug his parents, especially since the uncertainty of when and if he’ll be able to do so again hung heavily in the air around them, but Renjun stood his ground. One step back into the solace of his home and of his parents and Renjun would not have been able to leave at all. “I am your son after all,” he finished. 

Without another word, Renjun spun around, walked to their front door, and opened it with a swift swing of his arm. He strode out of his house even before the soldier standing outside could demand for his family’s representative to the royal army.

The journey to the capital of the empire took about a week and a half, although to Renjun, it felt longer and much like a drag. 

Renjun had never been to the capital before, and the stories his father and their travelling neighbors shared with him were not enough to capture what the city is truly like. From a little less than a kilometer away from the capital’s borders, Renjun’s mouth was already slightly hanging ajar in awe. There were too many things to look at at once: buildings three to five storeys above the ground, vendors on each spot of the street shouting at potential buyers, people everywhere haggling with merchants, soldiers in every corner watching out for danger, food and goods of all colors, shapes, and sizes from far and wide. Renjun was overwhelmed, borderline afraid.

From a distance, he spotted the intricate roofing of the imperial palace -- the yongmaru and the decorative tiles. With each trot of his horse closer to the capital, Renjun could properly appreciate the spectacle that was the imperial palace. It was majestic, taking up a large expanse of the city, and looking pristine and serene amidst the hustle and bustle that was going on around it.

When Renjun’s eyes focused on the country’s flag dancing with the wind as it hung on a pole on top of the palace’s tallest watchtower, Renjun could only imagine what seeing the palace, what working in the palace, and what working for the palace and its people made his father feel all those years ago.

The royal party who had accompanied them from their village directed Renjun and his people to a campsite not far from the heart of the capital. There were about a thousand men already there. Some had just arrived like Renjun and his people, but some had been there for a few days longer.

The campsite is divided into the west and east sides by an elongated lake. Fields rid of their weeds were scattered all over the campsite. A hefty number of tents wide enough to house about 20 people each were put up in an orderly manner on the western end of the camp. All the way on the other side is a row of barns and stables, and wooden carts filled with hay were clumped together nearby. A tall and wide wooden platform stood somewhere in the center of it all. A few soldiers were standing on top of this platform, and they were observing everybody and everything with their beady eyes.

Near the camp’s entrance, Renjun and his companions alighted their horses and entrusted them to the boys attending to the stables. Renjun affectionately pats his horse’s face before parting ways with it in the meantime. A soldier then told them to separate into smaller groups and to queue up behind the lines that have already formed outside the tents.

By the entrance of each tent, an imperial guard and a servant sat behind a small wooden table. On top of the table were a few pieces of clean paper, an array of wooden tags with twine tied to the top of each one, a set of thin tip paint brushes, and bowls of black, blue, red, and white ink.

The royal guard asked each man that stepped forth for his name, date of birth, place of origin, and social class. He listed all these data on a clean sheet of parchment, and would write on a new piece when the previous paper already had the men’s information written on it from top to bottom.

On the royal guard’s left, the servant sat and painted every man’s name in traditional cursive on the wooden tags. Black ink was used to paint the names of the nobi and of the cheonmin, blue ink was used for names of the sangmin, while the names of the chungin and of the yangban were painted with red ink. The guard reminded each soldier that his name tag must be kept as close to his body as possible at all times. It will be used to identify them, especially if they perish in battle.

When Renjun received his own name tag, Huang Renjun painted on it beautifully with blue ink, he thought to himself that he had not seen the servant dip his paintbrush into the bowl of white ink at all.

Noontime came in a blur. With their belongings barely unpacked and without even having a proper feel of their cots, all of the men were called out onto the field down south. It is the biggest free space in all of the campsite and where most of their training would take place. Another wooden platform, only narrower and shorter than the one in the middle field, stood on one end of the area. On it was an imperial soldier. He had numerous brass decoratives on his gat and robes. They glistened under the midday sun, but his eyes lacked the similar twinkle.

“I am Unit Commander Shim Changmin,” the soldier bellowed once all of the men had settled down. After he had introduced himself, the soft prattle amongst the soldiers completely dissipated, and he smiled smugly as the men then realized the power he has over them as a muban. He paced the length of the platform. “Look around you, boys! If and when you see, hear, or even smell any signs of apprehension, cowardice, and fear,” he hissed. “Bring those useless men forth and we shall send them back home immediately!”

Another soldier took place in the middle of the platform when Unit Commander Shim sat down on the chair right behind him. The soldier enumerated all of the rules the men are expected to follow while they are within the premises of the campsite. No stealing, no bullying, no unnecessary acts of violence, no raping, no bringing of women to the camp, no spreading of rumors especially about ghosts, no practicing of witchcraft, no showing of fear, no escaping for no reason.

After the rules and consequences were explained to the soldiers, Unit Commander Shim arose from his seat again. His eyes still lacked the twinkle and his smile was still smug. “I’m getting hungry.” He rubbed his stomach in a circular motion repeatedly. “Are you boys hungry?” He asked, but rather than concerned, he sounded mocking.

Over the meek cheers of the men, Unit Commander Shim called for a spontaneous fight. Men against men. “Win your fight and you’ll get a good lunch,” he shrugged. “The kitchen had been braising pigs this morning.”

Collectively, the soldiers inhaled deeply. They savored the scent of chili, garlic, ginger, soy sauce, and the other aromatic spices the kitchen had put into the hong shao rou. Renjun’s mouth watered instantaneously. His father makes delicious hong shao rou, and Renjun would love to have a taste of it again.

There was a moment of silence -- partly because of the tantalizing smell of the braised pork, and partly because of the sudden order to fight somebody right then and there. Nobody made a move, nobody made a sound. It disappointed Unit Commander Shim. His face darkened.

“Go on then! Fight!” He boomed, and at his command, his soldiers marched towards the crowd and egged them to hit each other.

Some of the men spared no other second and punched other men in their faces or kicked other men in their sides. In only a matter of seconds, the entire campsite became a big brawl. Unfortunately for Renjun, he stood in the middle of it all.

Renjun had never been in any sort of fight before and he had never hit anyone or anything. In the midst of the unanticipated fight, Renjun was scared. He felt every bone in his body shake. He planned to get away, wanted to hide in the sidelines before anybody can notice him merely standing there; but when Renjun turned around, somebody had suddenly punched him in the face, hitting him square in the jaw.

Despite the adrenaline and the blood rushing through his entire body and muffling his hearing, Renjun heard his attacker’s snicker, heard Unit Commander Shim’s cheer to punch and kick and hit even harder. His blood ran cold.

The force of the punch made Renjun stumble backward. With his first thought being to nurse his painful jaw and without any idea of what to do during a scuffle, Renjun’s hands flew to his face to clutch his jaw, leaving the rest of his body undefended.

His opponent attacked him some more with no remorse. Another punch to the side of his head, just right above his right ear. A knee to his stomach, twice, thrice, four times. One more jab, this time, by his eye.

Renjun remembers the time he left his home for the capital as clear as day.

He wishes he had never left.

Renjun wishes he was home.

The crisp sound of a match catching on fire wakes Renjun up. When he opens his eyes, his vision is blurry because of sleep and disuse. It takes him a few attempts to blink the haziness away.

“Oh? You’re finally awake.”

Renjun looks up and finds a young man shaking a lit match stick to its death standing by his bed. He looks to be around Renjun’s age, but the purple bruise smack on his cheek and the split bottom lip take away some of his youth.

The boy turns his head, and Renjun follows his line of sight. There are a couple of other men in the tent, all nursing injuries, but there are two in particular looking at their direction. “He’s alive,” the boy advises the others who, upon hearing the good news, immediately sigh in relief.

“Wh-what?” Renjun croaks. His throat is dry and he hardly has any saliva to swallow. The brunette by his bed hands him a cup of warm water which Renjun downs in only a couple of gulps.

“It’s been almost three days,” the boy explains to Renjun as he takes a seat on the edge of the cot Renjun is lying on. “Do you remember the fighting? For food? You got knocked out, and you’ve been down ever since.”

The memory of the brawl comes in fragments to Renjun, but he feels the physical and emotional pain in whole all at once in his chest.

“Wow,” is all Renjun could mutter. He recalls the pain and the fear, he remembers wanting to be within the comfortable four walls of his home. He looks down at his body. Most of his wounds have already closed, and he wasn’t actively bleeding. He had no broken bones but his bruises are still a stark contrast of color against his fair skin. Renjun didn’t expect it to have turned out like this, to have been this bad.

The boy on his bed nods, slowly, sadly. After a few seconds of silence, he jokes, “I heard some men say that the hong shao rou was tough though.”

Unexpectedly, Renjun chuckles at this. He’s thankful that he does because the brunette smiles too. His smile brightens up the atmosphere, even just by a tad bit. Renjun catches a flicker of mirth in the boy’s eyes, catches a little of the playfulness in the boy’s personality, and it relieves him.

“I’m Donghyuck, by the way. Lee Donghyuck.” Renjun shakes the brunette’s outstretched hand and introduces himself. Donghyuck cocks his head to the direction of the other two boys. “Those are Zhong Chenle and Park Jisung. We all met here.” Renjun gives the others a wave.

“None of you got to taste the braised pork too?” Renjun asks after he’s introduced himself to Chenle and Jisung.

Jisung shakes his head with a small smile but Chenle laughs out loud. “The plain rice porridge was pretty good though.”

“Lucky. I wish I was awake to have had a taste of it.”

One of the healers arrives a little later to check on Renjun. He is pleased to find Renjun awake already, and he reapplies healing oil on all of Renjun’s bruises and wounds. The healer then offers the boys bowls of mixed vegetable soup and encourages them to eat.

As soon as the healer leaves, Donghyuck begins to fill Renjun in on what he’s missed out on the last days and what he doesn’t know of yet. Chenle and Jisung have moved over to join the other two on Renjun’s cot.

The fight Unit Commander Shim commenced three days earlier lasted close to an hour. The highest military official and even the royal guards present clearly enjoyed seeing the newly recruited men beat each other up and get bloodied and bruised. A number of the soldiers who emerged victorious from the scuffle ended up battered despite their wins, but this only seemed to please Unit Commander Shim even more.

Rules are rules in the military, so the soldiers who succeeded in the fight got to eat hong shao rou for lunch, those who lost received rice porridge, and those who were knocked down cold, well, got to rest.

“Don’t you know how to throw a punch?” Donghyuck asks incredulously as he helps Renjun sit up on his cot. It takes their combined effort since Renjun’s body is still tender from the injuries and his bones are still stiff from immobility. “Or, I don’t know, block or dodge one at least?”

Renjun snorts through gritted teeth. “Do you?” He asks back as he eyes Donghyuck’s body that’s only looking a little better than his own.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything anymore.

When Renjun is finally sitting up comfortably, he breathes in deeply. “I didn’t see the need to learn. I didn’t have the want to learn either.” He examines his hands on his lap and chuckles bitterly at how they’re clean and devoid of any sign of harm as if he hadn’t been beaten up to unconsciousness three days before. “The last war, it was so long ago. I wasn’t even born yet. But, my father. We, my mother and I, almost lost him in that war. He’s been limping ever since, and I’m sure he still has nightmares about it almost every night.”

His companions don’t say anything for a while, and Renjun doesn’t mind. What can one say about a war, anyway? Aside from how miserable it leaves everybody in its wake?

Renjun doesn’t blame his father or what his father had endured for what had happened to him during that brawl. He knows that nobody had hoped for or even expected another war, and he understands that his parents had wanted to keep him safe. His father let Renjun engage in activities that build character without violence. The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting, Sun Tzu had said.

It’s Chenle who breaks the silence. “My father is sick too and my older brother has been away to look for a cure. My mother thinks I’m too young to be a soldier, but what can we do?”

The other boys nod in agreement. Another moment of quiet, but Renjun is certain that none of them are as overwhelmed by the sadness as they would have been before this time. The company is pleasant, and they can all feel a friendship blossoming beautifully.

Early the next day, a royal guard comes into the infirmary to check on the injured men. He visits each cot, and if he deems that the soldier is well enough, he sends him back to his tent to prepare for breakfast.

The royal guard sends Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung out without much consideration, but he scrutinizes Renjun’s appearance a little longer than the rest.

“You’re good to go, boy,” the soldier tells Renjun, although the tone of his voice rises slightly at the end, as if he’s unsure of his decision and is actually asking Renjun for permission to let him go.

Renjun doesn’t move right away. He contemplates on whether he should be honest and say that he’s still hurting and that he isn’t yet fit to undergo training or if he should lie and just follow the soldier’s orders. After thinking about it a bit more, Renjun finally nods meekly. He wiggles out of his cot, and he thinks that the soldier must have grown impatient because he grabs Renjun’s arm and hoists him up -- strongly, but not harshly.

“Arms always in front of your face, boy,” the soldier advises Renjun. His voice is gruff, but his facial expression lacks the same harshness. The soldier lets go of Renjun’s arm and walks over to the next injured man even before Renjun can determine if the soldier was being nice to him or not.

Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung all reside in the same tent. Fortunately, there’s still an empty cot, and they all help Renjun gather his stuff from his previous tent to move in with them. After striking a deal with the other soldiers, the four of them occupy the beds closest to the rear end of the tent, giving them just a bit of peace and privacy and making it easier for them to exit through the back flap when they feel like getting away from the ruckus sometimes.

Despite their bodies still healing, the boys join training that same day. Mornings on camp are usually allocated mainly for combat, then the afternoons are mainly for weaponry. The soldiers are also expected to put in hours of work at the blacksmith’s, infirmary, kitchen, and stables.

Having missed three days, the boys are aching all over by the time dinnertime comes. Although, they’re grateful for the amount of endorphins training got out of them, because at least they find themselves joking around and laughing amongst themselves at the end of the night, up until they drift off to sleep.

It doesn’t come as a surprise to Renjun that his newfound friends are better at fighting than he is -- even just by a small margin. They’re quick and kind to help Renjun out though.

Donghyuck is clever. He teaches Renjun tips and tricks on combat and weaponry: what body part to hurt, what body part to protect, what foliage is best to hide behind.

Chenle is focused. He shows Renjun how to hold a bow and arrow and how to shoot at the target, moving or stationary, as accurately as possible.

Jisung is agile. He helps Renjun get to know his body and the ways he can move it to attack smartly and to defend himself wisely.

Over time, Renjun learns to utilize his brain and his body for the battlefield. He knows where to strike the body where it matters the most, knows how to analyze the air movement to ensure his arrow hits the target, and knows how to use his body -- be it offensively or defensively. He gains confidence, but it’s not enough to encourage him to actually hurt somebody unnecessarily. He tries not to let it show. No weakness, no pain, no mercy.

Unfortunately, it does show.

Another week later, just as the sky is about to turn an entrancing deep orange with the setting of the sun, Unit Commander Shim commences another sparring session. A couple of poultry farms nearby delivered a big number of chickens this morning, and the unit commander had asked the kitchen to make samgyetang.

Renjun watches as Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung go their separate ways and find men that they think they can take on. It makes sense. Even if Renjun would have been more comfortable fighting any of his friends, he does not want that some of them would get to eat a good meal tonight, while some of them would not.

He sighs in relief as he sees the soldiers around him pay him no attention and instead find men smaller or more slight than they are. However, there’s a subtle queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he can’t quite shake away. Renjun glances around and tries to look for anybody ready to pounce on him.

He’s about to make a full circle without finding anybody or anything suspicious, when he suddenly catches sight of a boy standing about ten meters away from him, looking at him intently that Renjun is surprised he hasn’t caught on fire.

If it were another time and another place, Renjun would have found the boy’s platinum blond hair coiffed to perfection despite being at an army camp, consuming black eyes with a striking sparkle, sloping nose line, and sharp jawline attractive -- Renjun still does, actually, but he’s consumed by the feeling of intimidation.

When their gazes meet, the boy stares into Renjun’s eyes as if nobody else is around. Even if Renjun wants to break eye contact, he can’t bring himself to. A shiver runs down his spine.

Renjun vaguely hears the voice of a soldier calling him out for just standing still because all his ears can focus on is the crunch of the grass beneath the boy’s feet as he strides towards Renjun. The boy stops walking when he’s only an arm’s stretch away from Renjun. He nods once, and that’s all it takes for him and Renjun to begin fighting.

Neither Renjun nor the boy know when a crowd had begun to form around them -- not when they’re both preoccupied with making certain that they don’t get beaten up tonight.

Renjun chooses to be more defensive, both arms right in front of his face just like the soldier had advised him, partially because he’s still not used to being the first to strike but also because his opponent is evidently more experienced in engaging in combat than he is. Both of Renjun’s arms are beginning to ache and bruise from blocking successive punches and kicks, but he grits his teeth and holds on.

When the boy takes a split second too long to throw another punch, Renjun takes the opportunity to crouch and ram his shoulder against the boy’s middle. He hears the boy grunt from the impact. They both stumble backwards, but the boy quickly regains his footing. He pushes Renjun away, and the upper hand is his again.

The blond does a roundhouse kick, his feet hitting Renjun right in the chest. He follows up with a couple of kicks of both of his legs, hitting Renjun’s arms and sides. Renjun catches a rhythm and grabs one of the blond’s legs in an attempt to disrupt his balance, but the blond roughly pulls his leg from Renjun’s grip, causing Renjun to fall face first onto the ground.

The boy stomps on Renjun’s upper back and he keeps his foot there. The air is knocked out of Renjun’s lungs with the sudden force, and he finds it even harder to breathe with the added weight on his back. The blond applies a bit of pressure. Stay down. 

Renjun hears the men who have come to spectate murmur and snicker, he hears Unit Commander Shim in the audience yell, “Finish him! Send him home!”, but above all the noise, he hears a low but firm, “No”.

The crowd quiets almost instantly. On the ground, Renjun cranes his neck to look around but his eyes choose to gaze upward at his opponent who eventually lets his foot slide off of Renjun’s back.

Renjun hears footsteps, and based on the atmosphere, he assumes that it must be Unit Commander Shim walking closer to him and his opponent.

“No?” Unit Commander Shim asks. One of his eyebrows is raised slightly and his lips are curled into a frown.

“No,” the blond says again, with finality, as if his point had not been clear earlier.

Renjun turns himself over on the ground and he observes as Unit Commander Shim and the boy stare each other down. Renjun wonders who this boy thinks he is, wonders who this boy actually is for him to be going against the unit commander’s orders.

What feels like an eternity later, Unit Commander Shim eventually scoffs. He walks towards the direction of the blond. He makes sure to hit the boy’s shoulder with more force than necessary, and he makes sure to have a few specks of gravel hit Renjun in the face as he makes his way to the kitchen. Defeated, but not without a fight.

The crowd eventually disappears, until it’s just Renjun and the blond. Renjun begins to lift himself off the ground, but a sharp pain shoots across his left arm so he falls back down to the earth.

“Renjun hyung!” Jisung calls from a short distance, and in a few moments, he and Chenle and Donghyuck are right by Renjun’s side to help him up.

Even before Renjun could lie and say that he’s fine, Chenle lifts one side of his shirt to inspect him for any damage.

“Hyung, it’s purple,” Chenle hisses.

“Let’s take you to the infirmary,” Donghyuck decides. He puts Renjun’s arm around his shoulders just as Chenle does the same on the other side.

On their way to the infirmary, they pass by the boy who Renjun is surprised to see still standing there. They make eye contact again, and Renjun thinks he sees something akin to an apology in the blond’s eyes, but he immediately steps on the tendril of thought.

Nobody is ever sorry in a war.

There are less soldiers at the infirmary compared to the first brawl for good food, so his friends gently set him down on the first empty cot that they see. It takes a little more effort than normal for Renjun to take his shirt off, so he tries his best not to complain when his friends help him out of his trousers.

An array of colors have begun to bloom across the expanse of Renjun’s skin: pink, yellow, blue, red, purple. When Jisung helps the healer lay cut up cloth drenched in healing oil on Renjun’s wounds, Renjun can’t decide if Jisung keeps accidentally dropping the bandages because he’s naturally clumsy or because he’s more busy trying to blink his tears away.

The healer allows the boys to stay and accompany Renjun until bedtime, and he tells Renjun that he’ll be back in the morning to reassess his condition.

Donghyuck leans against the edge of Renjun’s cot and lightly pats the part of Renjun’s arm that isn’t battered. “You did well today.”

Renjun snorts, lightly, because he knows his friend means it even if he got the short end of the stick. “Thank you. Thank you, all of you, for your help.” His friends smile at him and he smiles back at them. “Next time, I’ll do even better.”

They spend the rest of the evening telling stories about each of their scuffles today. He didn’t want to admit it, but Jisung easily won his fight this time. All of them are proud of Jisung, and Renjun apologizes for being a burden and causing Jisung to miss his share of samgyetang, but the youngest reassures him that it’s alright.

The boys don’t realize how quickly the night has passed until one of the healers comes out of their quarters to tell them that it’s time for them to return to their tent. Donghyuck is in the middle of sharing his own experience today, so he waits for the healer to return to his bed, before blowing out the candle by Renjun’s cot and silently continuing where he had left off earlier.

His friends are about to get off their stools to finally go back to their tent when a snap of a twig right outside the infirmary’s main entrance stops them in their tracks. They hold their breath and wait, but when the opening rustles, everybody grabs the nearest object to act as a weapon just in case they will be attacked.

It’s a full moon tonight, and some of the moonlight find their way past the small openings in the infirmary’s tent flaps. Renjun squints to get a better view at his surroundings, and he takes a sharp intake of breath when a streak of moonlight catches in a mop of platinum blond hair Renjun has only seen once but swears he will always remember.

The same boy from earlier enters the infirmary. He takes long but slow strides to where Renjun and his friends are, but he quickly moves to place a finger against Chenle’s lips right before he could scream for help.

Donghyuck, Jisung, and Renjun raise whatever it is they’re holding and prepare themselves to hit the intruder.

“I come bringing a present,” the boy explains softly.

Donghyuck scoffs. “What kind of present? Death?” He takes a threatening step towards the blond.

The boy steps away from Chenle and pulls out a jug from the rucksack hanging by his side. He sets the container down on Renjun’s cot, and nods at Chenle to pick it up and open it.

Chenle does as he’s asked while the other boys watch him with suspicion. Once the jug’s cap is off, Chenle takes a sniff. “This is medicinal tea,” he concludes. He’s confused, much like his friends.

With this, the blond evidently relaxes, his shoulder muscles losing their tension. “I brought it for you,” he tells Renjun.

Renjun slowly reaches for the container and takes a whiff of its contents himself. He recognizes the scent. His grandmother used to brew a similar concoction of chamomile, ginger, and mint along with a few other ingredients he couldn’t recognize as a child.

The boy hands Chenle a small teacup which he, in turn, offers to Renjun. Before Renjun can accept, however, Donghyuck snatches the teacup away.

“How can we be sure it’s not poisoned?”

The blond sighs. “Please. I only want to help.”

“With what? Sending us weaklings home? Just like what the muban asked you to do?”

Renjun can feel the anger radiating off of Donghyuck. He lightly encircles Donghyuck’s wrist with his fingers in an attempt to calm his friend down. “Donghyuck-ah, it’s alright. I’m familiar with this tea, my grandmother used to make a similar kind when I was a kid. It's okay.”

Donghyuck is still seething, but he holds the teacup out for Renjun to fill with the medicinal tea, then replaces the jug in Renjun’s hands with it for Renjun to drink from.

As soon as the drink hits the back of his throat, Renjun feels a pleasant warmth envelope his body. It's comforting, calming. The tea is not as sweet as he would have preferred, but it tastes heavy with herbs. Renjun assumes that the boy had purposely made the brew more potent for it to be more effective.

“Th-thank you for this,” Renjun mutters, licking his lips. He fills the teacup again but hands it to Donghyuck this time. “You guys need to drink some too.”

His friends all take turns in drinking the medicinal tea once they’ve all taken their seats again. Renjun fills the teacup one more time and offers it to the blond who shakes his head to decline. Renjun takes a sip before setting the teacup down on his lap.

“It is best to finish the container by tomorrow. If you’d like more, just let me know, and I'll bring you some.” The boy sits on the seat across Renjun’s bed. “It will make you heal faster.”

“He wouldn’t need it at all if you hadn’t beaten him up to a pulp,” Donghyuck grumbles, but the blond hears him anyway.

“I’m sorry, but there was nothing else I could do.”

Donghyuck doesn’t respond to this. As much as he hates to admit it, the boy is right. Unit Commander Shim is the highest-ranking military official and he always gets what he wants. Going against him is very much like breaking the house rules, and its penalty is similar: death.

“You said no though.” All heads turn to look at Renjun questioningly. He fiddles with the teacup in his hands, wary to continue but he does anyway. “Unit Commander Shim asked you to end me, to send me home, but you said no.”

All eyes are on the blond this time who merely shrugs. “I meant what I said.”

When Renjun catches the blond’s gaze one more time, another shiver runs down his spine, but it’s not fear or intimidation this time. It’s something else Renjun can’t quite put his finger on.

Renjun smiles and the boy does the same.

Afraid that a healer will find them still at the infirmary and not actually wanting to go to bed yet, the boys sit in silence for a little while. Renjun catches Donghyuck steal glances at the blond every couple of seconds, and he appreciates that his friend is always on the lookout for him, but Renjun believes that the boy genuinely wants to help. He also believes that the blond is much more than what he was on the battlefield earlier.

Jisung interrupts the quiet by asking the boy how the samgyetang tasted like. Donghyuck rolls his eyes, Chenle lightly slaps Jisung’s thigh, but the blond chuckles. His smile is small but his eyes disappear into crescents, making him look happier and more at peace. Renjun wonders what a face like that is doing at a war.

“I wouldn’t know, I’m sorry. I didn’t go to dinner.” At this, Donghyuck raises his eyebrows briefly and it seems like he’s warming up to the boy, even just a little, because he slouches forward slightly in his seat.

“Oy, what’s your name anyway?”

“Lee Jeno.”

Donghyuck hums in acknowledgement. “Lee Donghyuck.” Jisung, Chenle, and Renjun introduce themselves as well. Afterwards, Donghyuck admits, “We’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you’re the reason our friend is here, so there will be none of that.”

Jeno takes Donghyuck’s comment with a light heart, chuckling a second time. “It’s alright, I understand. I’m truly sorry again.”

Renjun shakes his head to convey the message that it’s alright. Some parts of his body are still aching, but Renjun hasn’t felt this warm in a while. He takes it as a good sign.

“I can help you,” Jeno begins a little later. “We can train together. I can teach you guys skills in combat and weaponry.”

Chenle and Jisung excitedly agree, but Donghyuck looks at Renjun immediately. Renjun can sense that Donghyuck appreciates Jeno’s offer, can see that he wants to become better and stronger and that he knows he can with Jeno’s help, but Donghyuck would say no if Renjun says he’s uncomfortable with working with somebody who beat him up.

Renjun takes Donghyuck’s hand that’s laying on the side of his cot before he looks at Jeno. “We’d all appreciate that. Thank you, Jeno.”

When Donghyuck squeezes his hand and when Jeno, Chenle, and Jisung quietly cheer at Renjun’s response, Renjun is certain that the warmth in his heart is the best he’s ever felt in a while.

Lee

Fallen star, I’m your one call away. When night falls, I am your escape.

Some circumstances in his life had taught Jeno to be as nimble as a cat, but even then, Doyoung still catches him walking away before he can take any more steps farther from their adjacent beds. The sun is only beginning to peek from the horizon, its rays still not reaching the lengths that they normally touch, meaning that there is still a bit of time left before the soldiers are woken up for their morning training.

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asks, causing Jeno to jump slightly in his step. His voice is levelled, which makes Jeno wonder if Doyoung had actually been awake this entire time, if Doyoung actually ever sleeps.

Jeno pivots and raises the jug in his hands, shaking it a bit for Doyoung to see. “I got some tea.”

The older man props his elbows on his cot and leans against them. He raises an eyebrow almost tauntingly at Jeno. “And you’re going to? Drink that? Outside?”

Embarrassed at the tone of Doyoung’s voice, Jeno’s hand holding onto the canister falls ever so slightly. “Yes,” he answers, but his voice rises a bit in the end. He hopes Doyoung doesn’t notice it, but Jeno isn’t counting on that so much. Doyoung always notices, Doyoung always knows.

The older man sits up properly on his bed before pulling the blanket off of his body. “I’ll come with you.”

The younger boy quickly takes a step forward, a defensive move to keep Doyoung in place. “Hyung, I’m taking this to a friend. He’s at the infirmary right now. He needs it,” Jeno explains to him honestly. Doyoung is protective of Jeno, sometimes too much, which is why Jeno had not wanted to tell the complete truth in the first place.

Doyoung doesn’t make any other movement or comment. He only looks up at Jeno with a blank stare.

“What is it? You don’t believe I can make friends?”

Doyoung shakes his head. He opens his mouth to answer but he closes it again without saying anything. Jeno may not be as mindful as Doyoung is, but he knows that the older man had wanted to tell him something but just chose not to. For what reason, Jeno doesn’t know, but he trusts Doyoung and his judgement, so he doesn’t prod.

When Doyoung eventually gives in but asks Jeno to introduce him to his newfound friend next time, Jeno excitedly nods before jogging out of their tent and towards the infirmary.

It’s quite a long walk from Jeno’s quarters to the infirmary, but he attributes the sweating of his palms to something else. The morning air is chilly enough to not break into a sweat, anyway.

There are no rules against visiting friends at the infirmary, but Jeno feels nervous as he enters nonetheless. He knows why, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge it, doesn’t want Doyoung to be right.

Renjun is already awake and sitting up by the time Jeno gets to the foot of his cot. He’s pouring the last contents of the jug of medicinal tea Jeno had brought him the night before. He’s about to down the drink in one gulp when he catches sight of Jeno standing by the foot of his bed.

“Oh. H-hello, Jeno.”

“Hi,” Jeno returns. He wasn’t expecting Renjun’s friends to be there, but he’s still a little uncomfortable to be alone with Renjun. All of the other men at the infirmary are still asleep and none of the healers have come out of their quarters yet. He fidgets, scratches the back of his head, before remembering what he actually came here for. He walks to the table by Renjun’s bed, where the now empty jug of medicinal tea stands. He picks it up and replaces it with the canister in his hand. “I brought you some more tea.”

Renjun smiles appreciatively up at Jeno. “Thank you. This has actually helped me feel a lot better already. You make really good leung cha.” Renjun nods towards the stool next to his bed, a silent invitation for Jeno to take a seat.

“My friend is the one who makes it, actually,” Jeno confesses as he sits down. “Doyoung hyung. You should meet him some time. He said he’d want to meet you too.”

Renjun reaches for the new jug Jeno had brought with him and fills his teacup to the brim. He drinks, licks his lips, then sighs contentedly. “Alright. In the meantime, though, please give him my thanks. I think I can join this morning’s training thanks to his tea.”

Jeno has drank Doyoung’s leung cha a lot of times before that he’s already lost count. He can attest to its potency, but his eyes warily scans Renjun’s body nonetheless. He’s not swollen anywhere and none of his bones are broken, but his bruises are still purple and blue. “A-are you sure?”

Renjun hums against the rim of his teacup. “Yes. I can manage. You’re not that strong, you know,” he teases.

Jeno takes the insult good-heartedly. He chuckles shortly before looking at Renjun straight in the eyes. “Renjun-ah, listen to me, please. I’m truly sorry. I know it didn’t seem like it that time, but I-I didn’t want to hurt you. Not this bad, at least. I don’t want to hurt you.” The injured boy doesn’t say anything, so Jeno contines. “It’s brutal here at the army camp. Everybody’s on the look out for blood as if the ongoing war isn’t enough bloodshed on its own. I- I did- I just-”

He stops trying to finish his sentence, stops trying to look for the right words when he feels a hand on top of his. It’s Renjun’s. He’s reached over to lay a comforting hand on Jeno’s. Without saying anything, Renjun lets Jeno know that it’s alright, that he’s forgiven, that Renjun understands.

Jeno feels relief wash over him all at once. Renjun is much too nice -- to him, for this world.

“That’s why you’re going to help my friends and I train, right?” Renjun asks. In the distance, a rooster crows. Jeno reluctantly gets up to leave just as the men and the healers start to wake up.

Jeno grins. “Right.”

In all of the time he’s spent on the army campsite, Jeno has actually never seen Renjun or any of his friends while training, so he jogs around the southern field for a few minutes trying to locate them. He ends up finally finding them almost all the way to the other side of his usual place of practice. Just like how Jeno saw him earlier this morning, Renjun is still bruised, but he’s standing and walking erect and laughing at something Donghyuck had said, which Jeno takes as a good sign.

“Jeno!” Renjun calls him over. Chenle and Jisung happily wave at him too.

As he jogs closer to Renjun and his friends, Jeno notices that Donghyuck is scrutinizing him from head to toe. “I thought you weren’t going to show up,” Donghyuck comments, judgement coating each of his words.

Beside Donghyuck, Renjun sighs. “I told you that he said he would.”

Jeno smiles sheepishly. He scratches the back of his head. “I’m sorry I took long. I couldn’t find you guys. I didn’t know where to look so I had to go around the entire field.”

“Come to think of it, hyung, we don’t usually see you around too,” Chenle starts. His gaze rounds the southern field, and he estimates that he can see at least half of the men on camp from where they’re standing. “I mean, your hair is pretty hard to miss.”

Jeno chuckles and waves Chenle off. When Chenle continues to ask where Jeno usually trains, he points somewhere towards the direction of the lake. It’s not too vague to be considered a lie, but it’s not too specific either for Chenle and his friends to actually come up with a concrete idea. Chenle shrugs nonchalantly, but Jeno catches Donghyuck looking at him suspiciously. He jogs to the basket of wooden poles by the side to get some for him and his companions before anybody asks or says anything else.

It’s not that difficult to train Renjun, Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung. They all have developed the basic skills in both combat and weaponry in the past weeks at camp, so what Jeno mainly does is help them strengthen their skill sets and broaden their knowledge and abilities in warfare. Training with Jeno helps increase their self-confidences too, even if it’s not easy for any of them to actually beat Jeno. They all put up a good fight though.

The five boys do a lot of things on camp together from then on. Aside from sparring, target practice, and swordsmanship, the boys also play around together, complete chores together, hang out together, and eat together.

By this time, all of the boys have completely warmed up to Jeno -- Donghyuck included. Chenle and Jisung look up to him, Donghyuck makes fun of him and teases him a lot, and Renjun smiles and laughs at him affectionately.

Jeno appreciates it, appreciates them all. Doyoung is an extremely dear friend to him, somebody Jeno trusts with his entire life, but he’s still grateful for the chance to expand his social circle and be with people who know him as he is, be with people who don’t know his secrets and hence, can’t use them against him.

Sometimes, when Jeno and his friends are having lunch together, Jeno sees Doyoung pass by where they’re sitting. If Doyoung does so by chance or on purpose, Jeno isn’t sure, and he decides that he doesn’t want to confirm.

Jeno has introduced Doyoung to Renjun, Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung before, and he thinks that the introductions went pretty well. Doyoung doesn’t say anything about his friends, and his friends don’t say anything about Doyoung (although Donghyuck did admit one time that Doyoung scares him a little).

They’re having soy braised beef and mixed vegetables for lunch today. The imperial palace had sent out helpings of beef to the army campsites to celebrate. The troops of General Choi Minho have recently won back the northernmost part of the country, successfully blocking any more incoming attacks from the tribes in the outskirts and preventing any of the invaders from running back home in fear or defeat.

Jeno sees Doyoung depositing his bowl and utensils in the kitchen. He calls him over. “Doyoung hyung! Come join us!”

Doyoung approaches them with leaden feet, but Jeno doesn’t make much out of it. When his friends stop chattering amongst themselves to silently watch Doyoung walk towards them, Jeno doesn’t say anything about it either.

“Jeno.” Doyoung nods at the blond. He turns to Jeno’s friends and nods at each one of them too in lieu of a verbal hello.

“Come eat with us, hyung,” Jeno invites. He smiles up at Doyoung because he knows his older friend finds him almost irresistible this way.

Doyoung gives Jeno a tight-lipped smile in return. “I’ve already finished.” Then without another word, he walks away.

Almost.

There are still thousands of tribesmen from the northern outskirts creating havoc within the empire, and with most of the soldiers deployed to the northernmost part of the country to protect its borders with General Choi, training on camp gets even longer and tougher.

Unit Commander Shim is present in all of the training sessions. He hasn’t called for a sparring session in a while, and Jeno is relieved that the unit commander is still aware that there is a right time for play and a right time to be serious. Sometimes, Unit Commander Shim picks out a group of men who he thinks are good enough to be deployed and sends them to the areas where the battles are most critical.

The unit commander catches Jeno and his group of friends practice combat and weaponry a number of times. He eyes them for a while which makes Jisung worry about getting stationed soon.

It’s a sunny day. Unit Commander Shim is standing under the blazing sun and is watching as Renjun smartly disarms Donghyuck, the latter’s wooden sword landing with a soft thud a little far away from where their fight is taking place. After complimenting his friends for a good run, Jeno looks at the unit commander who returns his gaze with an unreadable expression. He grunts, then walks away.

“He’s going to send us to Daegwallyeong, I’m sure of it,” Jisung whines as he watches Unit Commander Shim’s retreating figure. He folds in on himself as the mere thought of getting sent to the mountain pass rumored to be infested by the northern tribesmen makes him shiver to the verge of tears.

“Hey, he’s proud of you, Jisung. Unit Commander Shim is actually proud of all of you,” Jeno says in an attempt to calm his friends down. He ruffles Jisung’s mop of blond hair and smiles at the rest of his friends. Although he doesn’t get the same expression back from any of them.

“Stop buttering us up, Jeno hyung,” Chenle mumbles. He rests his chin on Jisung’s shoulder, allowing Jisung to lean his head against his to seek for added comfort.

“I’m not kidding though,” Jeno defends himself. “When Unit Commander Shim doesn’t say anything, it means he’s pleased. He just chooses to be silent because he doesn’t dare bring his pride down to compliment anybody!”

Donghyuck went to pick up his wooden sword from where it had landed earlier, and now he’s burrowing the edge to the ground in lieu of something better to do. “You sound so sure of yourself,” he comments bitterly. “What’s the basis of your assumption, huh? Do you know Unit Commander Shim personally?”

Jeno is taken aback and doesn’t answer right away. He opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, making him look like a fish fresh out of water. At the same time Donghyuck tells him to forget about it, Jeno weakly mutters a, “You could say that”. He thinks nobody heard him, but he catches Renjun looking at him quizzically. Jeno gives him a half smile before turning away, putting an end to the conversation.

The number of soldiers at the army camp eventually gets smaller, and it’s been a while since they had meat. Word of mouth is that General Choi is still strongly holding onto the borders, but the same cannot be said for the other areas like the mountain passes and the plains. Groups after groups of soldiers are being sent to battles. It won’t be long before the campsite will be emptied of its men.

Jeno, Renjun, and Donghyuck are among the men working at the kitchen tonight. They’re setting the clean bowls and dishes down on makeshift drying racks for tomorrow’s use.

In the hush of the chore, it’s Donghyuck’s voice that Jeno hears first. He’s softly but confidently singing a folk song Jeno remembers from his childhood. A little later, Jeno hears another voice harmonize with Donghyuck’s. It’s more shy but just as melodious -- Renjun’s.

The pair continue to sing the folk song until its end. The tune sounding nicely in the air even as it fades to its finish.

“You sing?” Jeno asks his two friends. He’s stopped arranging plates for a little while, choosing instead to listen and watch his friends sing in awe.

“Every night actually,” Donghyuck replies with a smug smile. Renjun lightly slaps him on the shoulder for his uncalled for boasting.

“Wow. You two have such beautiful voices,” Jeno compliments his friends. “I’d love to hear more.”

Renjun smiles up at Jeno. “Chenle has a flute back in our tent. If you’d like, you can come over to ours tonight? Listen to and make music with us?”

Jeno accepts the invitation enthusiastically.

Jeno runs as quickly as he can back to his tent to change out of his clothes that have gotten damp while working in the kitchen. There’s about an hour and a half left before lights out, and Jeno wants to make the most out of tonight. He’s always enjoyed music, but being at the army camp has kept it away from him for so long.

Jeno is dressed into new clothes and is about to step out of his tent when he’s suddenly blocked by Doyoung standing on the other side.

“Hyung!” He cries out in surprise. “I’m just going to go to Tent 25, alright? Just for a little while. Chenle will play the flute and Donghyuck and Renjun will sing! Would you like to come with me?”

Jeno doesn’t wait for Doyoung to answer, partly because he’s already expecting his friend to say no. He steps to the side to get away, but Doyoung mirrors his movements and blocks his way again.

“I’m sorry, Jeno, but I can’t allow you to leave tonight,” Doyoung tells him. 

Jeno looks up at Doyoung. He tries his best to not let the annoyance be so obvious on his face, tries his best not to glare at his older friend. “And why is that?”

Unexpectedly, Doyoung smiles smally at him. “You have a visitor.”

For somebody who has spent most, if not, all of his waking hours engaging in physical activity for the past months, Jeno sure has plenty of energy as he races across the field and up the western hill, not caring about how the ground inclines and strains his leg muscles and makes it harder for him to catch his breath. The western hill has been nothing but a big lump of grass and some trees for the last weeks, but tonight, as Jeno runs towards it, he catches sight of a number of pristine white tents set up on an even part of the hill.

He can’t contain the excitement in his chest, and it bubbles out of him in peals of laughter as he runs. He hears Doyoung call out to wait for him from behind, but Jeno doesn’t listen. Instead, he charges even faster towards the middle and biggest tent, not stopping or slowing down even as a boy’s head pops out of the opening, beginning to get out.

In Jeno’s rush, he doesn’t notice Chenle and Jisung walking out from the forest, a sack of peaches swaying in between them.

The next morning, Jeno shyly makes his way to where Renjun and his friends usually train. He waves at them and begins to stretch, choosing to ignore the questioning looks his friends are giving him for not showing up last night.

They warm up in silence for a while, but as Donghyuck helps Jeno release some of the tension from his hamstrings, he asks Jeno where he was last night. Donghyuck sounds more curious than annoyed, but Jeno lies anyway.

“I suddenly didn’t feel well. I must have eaten too much at dinner.”

Before the other boys can catch the confused looks Chenle and Jisung are giving Jeno, he claps his hands to officially begin their group training.

He misses the disappointed look on Renjun’s face.

Renjun, Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung have evidently improved by a wide margin in both combat and weaponry. Jeno is proud, but his mind is somewhere else when Jisung hits the side of his head with a wooden pole as they spar, and again when Chenle perfectly shoots at an apple on top of Renjun’s head.

Donghyuck calls for a break then. As he walks away to get himself a cup of water, he mumbles about how some of them are out of focus. Jeno is aware Donghyuck is talking about him only.

Jeno flops to the ground and Renjun joins him.

“How are you feeling?” Jeno looks puzzled at the question at first, until he realizes that Renjun is checking up on him since he did say he was feeling unwell last night.

“I’m alright,” Jeno lies a second time. He tries to look at Renjun, but he can’t bring himself to, so he looks at the horizon behind his friend instead.

Renjun gives him a small smile and pats him on the shoulder once before lifting himself off the ground. “Maybe you should ask Doyoung hyung to make you leung cha.”

Jeno mimics Renjun’s expression. “Yeah,” he agrees, but he knows medicinal tea won’t do anything to help him this time.

After lunch, instead of being asked to return to their training posts, the soldiers are asked to gather at the middle field for an important announcement. A number of royal guards stand on top of the platform, and the men break into a chatter because these are faces they realize they’ve never seen around here before.

Unit Commander Shim stands on the middle of the platform. He clears his throat and everybody present falls silent and gives him his full attention.

He announces, “It is with great pleasure that I introduce you all to Prince Na Jaemin of the Southern Kingdom!” He casts his hand to the side where the foreign royal guards break the line they’ve formed to allow a young man to pass through.

The young man -- Prince Na Jaemin -- takes front and center with long and confident strides. He is dressed in an ensemble of a white linen shirt tucked into cream-colored trousers. His comfortable and simple attire makes it almost impossible to think that he is of royal descent, but his face and physique easily make up for it. His brown hair falls softly and smoothly across his forehead, swaying slightly with the breeze. His eyelashes are thick, long, and dark and frame around big, bright eyes that sparkle in the daylight. His cheekbones are high, his nose line is sloping, and his jawline is sharp. He has broad shoulders that taper down to a toned waist and even lower to slender legs. He nods and grins at the soldiers, some of who unabashedly sigh in amazement.

“Na Jaemin wangja-gun is the second son of King Jung of the Southern Kingdom. His family has gallantly offered their services to our country to help us win the war against the invaders,” the unit commander continues to explain. “I expect each one of you to treat His Royal Highness and his attendants with utmost respect and nothing less. Our upcoming victory is rightfully theirs too.”

After the introduction of the esteemed guests, altogether, the soldiers salute Unit Commander Shim and then Prince Na Jaemin and his royal party. The brown-haired prince smiles a second time and waves his hand to allow the men to relax.

“When we received the news about the invasion of the northern tribesmen on the empire, it was immediately decided by my father and his advisors that our people must help your people in whatever way we can,” Prince Jaemin shares to the crowd. His voice is deep, loud, and soothing all at once, and it is enough to demand for everyone’s recognition without him having to try so hard. “Our countries have been on extremely good terms for years and years. I look forward to many more years of harmony between us.”

Jeno had been almost at the very back of the crowd when the meeting began as he chose not to run onto the middle field with the other men in curiosity and excitement, but as the prince is speaking, Jeno can’t help but feel like he is being watched, like he is being stared at with much emotion.

Training resumes right after, and Unit Commander Shim accompanies Prince Jaemin to the southern field. They go around the entirety of it as the muban explains the soldiers’ daily routine and the progress of their training.

The pair stops walking right by Jeno and his friends’ usual training post, where Jeno is busy teaching Chenle how to maneuver his sword in a more precise and more powerful way on a makeshift dummy. He swears he feels the same gaze heavy all over his entire body, but Jeno tries his best to ignore it. He doesn’t stop hacking the target. He only slows down a bit when he sees Prince Jaemin lean closer to whisper something in Unit Commander Shim’s ear from the corner of his eye. Jeno’s sword gets stuck on the makeshift dummy, and he hardly puts in effort to get it out.

“Lee Donghyuck!” Unit Commander Shim suddenly shouts, and only then does Jeno completely stop what he’s doing.

Donghyuck, who had been shooting targets by himself on one side, lowers down the bow and arrow he has been training with. The tension in the bow’s string immediately transfers to the air around them, tight, almost suffocating. As Donghyuck makes his way towards the muban and the wangja-gun, Jeno follows.

“I’ve been observing you and your friends train for the past weeks,” Unit Commander Shim begins. He looks down at Donghyuck and it takes a lot of Jeno’s energy not to tell the unit commander off for doing so. “It’s time we see if all your hard work has been worth it. Your Royal Highness has asked to spar. I choose you to be his partner.”

Jeno’s eyes widen, and he’s certain that all of his friends are bearing the same expression as he is. He’s about to step forward to turn down the unit commander’s order even if it’s not his to disobey, but he’s cut off by Prince Jaemin.

“I’m sure Lee Donghyuck has been training well, Unit Commander Shim, but I would like to spar with somebody else today.” The unit commander shifts his gaze from Donghyuck to the prince. He raises a questioning eyebrow, and Jeno and his friends do the same. The prince’s face is calm, but Jeno can sense an intensity beneath the facade. “I’d be honored to spar with the Lee Jeno,” Jaemin says simply.

The prince turns his head to lock eyes with the blond in question, his pink and plump lips splayed out into a knowing smile. They are engulfed in silence.

Jeno gulps. He knows that this is an order he can’t bring himself to say no to.

Humility aside, Jeno is aware that he is one of, if not, the best soldier on the whole campsite. Doyoung is a close second, but Jeno believes that his older friend is just holding himself back for Jeno.

As soon as he could stand on his own and hold a sword on his own, Jeno has been trained to fight with his hands and with weapons. Over the years, he has only gotten even better, and he’s on his way to be the best. He developed a broad knowledge and a wide skill set that expand outside warfare. Jeno is intelligent, hardworking, and talented. Defending those in need and fighting for his country is something Jeno was born to do, something he wants to do.

If it were another time, another place, another person, Jeno would have been confident in himself and in winning this battle, but the Southerners are known to be among the bravest and strongest fighters in the entire world. Na Jaemin’s face may make it seem like he isn’t so, but Jeno does not let himself think otherwise of the prince. Jeno knows that somebody who has the privilege of living in a castle and being surrounded by royal guards also has the privilege of being good at fighting.

The unit commander and his friends move to the side to make enough room for Jeno and Jaemin to fight. Slowly, the men training around them have stopped their own practices to come and watch -- half of them to see what the Southern Prince is like on the battlefield, half of them to see how the infamous Lee Jeno will fare this time around.

The two waste no time to gauge the situation they find themselves in, and the both of them charge at each other at a speed and with a force only an experienced fighter can attain. Certain, skilled, powerful, hungry.

Jaemin bends his torso back and allows his head to fall even further, just as Jeno’s right arm powerfully swings towards his head. He keeps his own arm tense and down at his side, and he keeps his fist closed, which allow him to hit Jeno right at the center of his abdomen. They’re brisk to separate, Jeno’s hand over where Jaemin had just punched him, but they’re just as quick to attack again.

As if his core had not been hit just a few moments prior, Jeno tumbles in the air. The movement makes Jaemin take a step back to avoid getting kicked in the face. As soon as he stands erect, with Jaemin a bit stunned right in front of him, Jeno punches at the junction of Jaemin’s chest and arm, then strikes at his chest, right beneath the trachea.

Their faces are furrowed in concentration, their foreheads lined with beads of sweat, and their shoulders heave with every labored breath. The pair continue to fight. No weakness, no pain, no mercy. Both Jeno and Jaemin put effort and technique into their attacks and defenses. Their fight ends up looking much like a dance. Jeno moves and Jaemin answers. Jaemin attacks and Jeno parries. None of their spectators can properly decide who between them has landed more hits or who between them is more likely to lose. The audience gets lost in the fight, and Jeno, who has not dueled with somebody like this in a while, finds himself getting lost in it too -- in the coordination, in the thrill.

It’s a mistake, Jeno later remembers, to lose focus in something as critical as a fight. Just as an excited chuckle was about to escape through Jeno’s lips, Jaemin takes one too many steps forward, just enough to make his elbow crash against Jeno’s jaw.

The attack forces Jeno down, but he’s quick to counterattack. Both in his annoyance and in an attempt to get back at Jaemin, Jeno hooks his foot behind his opponent’s knee, causing the prince to lose his balance and fall down with him. Jaemin thinks and move quickly, and angles his body in such a way that he lands right on top of Jeno rather than anywhere else.

With an entire body on top of his own, Jeno is left with nothing else to do, especially as Jaemin has Jeno’s arms and legs pinned against the ground.

Jeno stares up at Jaemin. He sees the bravery, the focus, the strength in the prince’s eyes. Jeno finds himself thinking that the Southern Prince is exceptionally beautiful; and as Jaemin’s lips curve into a satisfied smile as he brings up and arm and presses it against Jeno’s windpipe just enough for Jeno’s breath to come out in shallow pants, Jeno thinks that Na Jaemin is also incredibly dangerous.

Not as if Jeno didn’t think those before already.

“I win,” Jaemin whispers, his breath fanning across Jeno’s face.

The prince eventually gets off of Jeno and stands up. His guards run to his side to brush off any dirt and to inspect for any damage. Jaemin waves them away before turning to Jeno to offer him a hand.

Jeno takes it, and with their combined effort, he gets up from the ground too.

“Better luck next time, Lee Jeno,” Jaemin says with the same smug smile. His hand is still around Jeno’s, and Jeno doesn’t mind, even as he finds himself receiving another order he cannot and will not say no to.

The Southern Prince is not seen around the campsite for the next few days, but the soldiers know that he’s still around because his guards are still there and sometimes, they even join the soldiers’ training.

Jeno, Renjun, Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung still train together, and all of them can feel and see the improvement each one of them has made after all the time and effort they put into practicing. Hand-to-hand combat is easy, and using weapons comes almost naturally.

After he sparred with Prince Jaemin, all of his friends have endlessly complimented Jeno for the way he sparred even if he had lost. Chenle and Jisung keep asking Jeno to teach them how to fight exactly the way he did, but they don’t get the chance to do so because Doyoung now comes to their training post about an hour before sunset and takes Jeno away from his friends without saying anything.

When they realize that it would be an everyday thing, his friends give him disbelieving looks. Jeno comes up with the excuse of Doyoung getting a terrible injury from one training session that he needs Jeno’s help with. Donghyuck, quick with his tongue just as he is quick with his mind had said one day, “You’re a soldier, Jeno, not a medic. Have Doyoung hyung go to the infirmary where he can get proper treatment.” Jeno just shook his head, gave his friends an apologetic smile, and ran after Doyoung who was heading for the western hill.

A week later, Jeno finds himself back in the kitchen with Donghyuck and Renjun. They act as they always do, but Jeno can feel the tinge of awkwardness between him and Donghyuck. He can’t blame his friend, doesn’t hold a grudge on Donghyuck, not when Doyoung looks well but Jeno still leaves their group training sessions an hour too early. As much as Jeno would want to explain the situation, it’s complicated, so he chooses to stay mum since there’s nothing he can do or say about it to appease Donghyuck or any of his friends anyway.

Renjun, always the most patient and the most understanding of their group, smiles warmly at Jeno just as they finish up with their chores for tonight. Donghyuck had gone ahead to go back to their tent, leaving Renjun and Jeno by themselves. “Would you like to come by and sing with us tonight?”

Jeno grins back at Renjun. He nods. “Of course.” 

It must have been the excitement to be around his friends and to make music with his friends that made Jeno agree instantly without even thinking first.

As soon as he steps inside his tent and sees Doyoung standing right by the entrance, clearly waiting for Jeno to arrive, Jeno suddenly remembers that there’s someplace else he has to be tonight.

Jeno walks to the western hill this time, the excitement he had felt the first time he raced up the knoll is completely gone right now. He takes slow and heavy steps this time, not wanting to rush, wishing instead for time to run slower, to stretch even longer.

He goes straight into the middle and biggest tent, just like he did before, and even if his heart is heavy, he can’t help but smile.

Jaemin is sitting on his bed, surrounded by the boxes of clothes and belongings his servants had brought for him to use while he stays on the army campsite. His hair is tousled, his clothes are rumpled, and he looks a little too bedraggled to be a prince. Truth be told, Jeno likes him the best this way -- relaxed, natural, easy.

“What took you so long?” Jaemin asks as he looks up to see Jeno entering his quarters. He’s pouting but the blond can see the hint of a grin the prince is trying to hold back.

Jeno walks towards Jaemin, and sits on the edge of his bed. If he stretches his arm out a little more, he can reach for Jaemin’s hand and hold it. “I don’t want you to go," is Jeno's response instead of a proper answer. He clenches his hands into fists. Touching Jaemin right now would make the reality of him leaving even more difficult for Jeno to accept.

Jaemin smiles at him and even if it’s a sad one, Jeno still finds it beautiful.

Together, Jeno and Jaemin put the boxes on the bed aside even if they aren’t completely packed yet so that they have a more comfortable space to lounge around on. The night is dark, but Jeno takes his sweet time in fixing up so Jaemin ends up doing most of the work. Jeno doesn’t feel guilty, not when it’s Jaemin who will be leaving him behind.

Jaemin dives under his covers right after they’ve finished cleaning up, but Jeno opts to stand by the bed. Hesitant, in denial, shy. The prince pulls his covers back, openly inviting Jeno to join him. “We don’t have forever you know,” Jaemin says through a tight-lipped smile.

Jeno sighs but he gets on the bed anyway. He buries himself under the covers and lays close to Jaemin, but not close enough that their bodies are already touching.

When Jaemin moves even closer, boldy pressing his chest against Jeno’s, breathing against Jeno’s collarbones, Jeno automatically wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him flush against himself. “Not yet,” he whispers against the top of Jaemin’s head as he presses a soft kiss onto it.

They fall asleep like that, heartbeat to heartbeat.

Doyoung hates that he has to do it, but he wakes them up just as the sun is about to rise.

Jeno leads Jaemin to the stables. He holds onto Jaemin’s hand as they step out of the tent, and when Jaemin argues that he doesn’t have to, Jeno reasons that it’s still dark outside and that he knows the campsite more than Jaemin does. Jeno is sure Jaemin knows that those are poor excuses and that Jeno just really wants to hold Jaemin’s hand as if doing so would actually keep him from leaving.

The Southern Kingdom’s guards who came to the army campsite with their prince have already prepared all of their horses and loaded all of their belongings. Jaemin’s gaited stallion, almost as white as snow, stands in the center, patiently waiting for Jaemin to mount him.

Jaemin beelines for his horse, but Jeno tugs at his hand that’s still linked with Jeno’s to pull him back. The prince grins at Jeno, one that shows how happy he is to be with Jeno like this, but also one that shows how disappointed he is to be leaving so soon. “Don’t die on me, Lee Jeno,” Jaemin says right before he presses a light kiss on the corner of Jeno’s mouth.

Jeno mimics the action, softly kissing the side of Jaemin’s lips, a silent acknowledgement of another order he can’t say no to.

When Jeno arrives at his and his friends’ usual training post later in the morning, they’re all busy sparring each other -- Donghyuck and Jisung fighting each other with their fists and Renjun and Chenle going against each other with wooden swords. The blond tries to convince himself that his friends are too engrossed in their training to pay him any attention, but a wary glance from Chenle makes Jeno feel like they’re actually ignoring him on purpose.

Renjun disarms Chenle at the same moment the younger spares Jeno a peep. He suddenly calls for a break before walking away, making sure to take the path farthest from Jeno. Donghyuck and Jisung follow him, but not without Donghyuck squinting accusingly at Jeno.

Chenle is left to clean up after his friends, so Jeno walks up to him.

“What’s going on?” Jeno asks. He attempts to reach for Renjun’s wooden sword where he had left it on the ground, but Chenle beats him to it, snatching it away as if Jeno is a foe and not a friend.

The younger boy looks at Jeno with a glare at first, but it eventually softens into a look of sadness, disappointment, betrayal.

“I was on duty at the stables this morning, hyung,” Chenle supplies instead of an actual answer. Jeno looks at him quizzically at first, before everything clicks, and oh.

There are too many thoughts that course through Jeno’s mind, and he can’t think of an appropriate response to what Chenle had just admitted to him. Jeno doesn’t have to come up with a reaction, because Chenle beats him to it again.

“We all hope Doyoung hyung is feeling better.”

Jeno trains all by himself that afternoon, and he makes sure to stay away from Doyoung the entire day because Jeno does not want to be stopped from going to the tent his friends stay in. He’s been there a few times before, so he knows that it’s best to take the rear entrance of the tent.

When he steps inside, all four of his friends are sitting on one cot. A small gayageum is on Renjun’s lap, and he’s softly plucking its strings as Donghyuck and Chenle sing with the accompaniment. They don’t notice Jeno entering until he’s standing by the bed, feeling bad and looking just as sad.

“Now you show up,” Donghyuck snorts. He’s clearly the most annoyed at Jeno because he stands from the bed and exits through the same opening Jeno had entered from. None of the others move, but Jeno catches Renjun look at Chenle before the youngest boys see themselves out as well.

With slow and hesitant steps, Jeno makes his way closer to Renjun, and when the other boy doesn’t move or say anything to stop him, Jeno takes a seat on the bed as well. Renjun isn’t looking at him, and Jeno prefers it that way because Renjun has always looked at him nicely, fondly after they became friends. Jeno doesn’t want Renjun to look at him as anything but.

“You should have just told the truth, you know,” Renjun says softly. His voice is sad but also bitter.

Jeno breathes deeply. “You don’t know the truth.”

Renjun scoffs. “Of course I don’t. None of us do because you don’t tell us.” If they were alone or if the other soldiers in the tent had not been asleep, Jeno thinks Renjun would have raised his voice at him. There’s a fire in Renjun’s gaze, but it’s not the good kind.

Jeno looks at Renjun in the eyes. “It’s complicated, Renjun-ah.” It’s not an excuse and it’s hardly an explanation, but there’s nothing else Jeno can say.

“I just wish you could’ve given me a warning. I should’ve just listened to Donghyuck.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Renjun turns away. “It’s outrageous for me to like you this way, Jeno. Especially after you beat me up, and especially after all this.” Renjun chuckles bitterly. “But here we are.”

Jeno thinks that Renjun would have wanted to sound angrier, but he just sounded sad and helpless. Jeno feels sad and helpless too. He genuinely likes Renjun as well -- appreciates Renjun’s kindness, enjoys his company, marvels at his determination, admires his entire personality.

Jeno reaches out to lay a hand over Renjun’s. He pulls back slightly, afraid Renjun might take the action negatively, but eventually pushes through anyway. “I- Th-” Jeno sighs, and instead, he settles for, “It’s all too complicated right now, Renjun.”

Renjun doesn’t pull his hand away, but when he looks at Jeno again, it’s much too harsh to be coming from him.

Jeno leaves Tent 25 with a heavy heart and equally heavy steps that night. How unfortunate for him to have begun the day on a low note and to end the day on an even lower note. He thinks to himself that they’re at war now, and it’s only right he feels miserable.

When Jeno wakes up the next morning, the heavy feeling is still there right smack in the middle of his chest, and it only gets even worse when instead of training, the soldiers are asked to gather at the middle field again.

A message has been sent out. The army of the northern tribesmen in Daegwallyeong has gotten stronger and have begun their spread onto Pyeongchang and Odaesan. In an attempt to control the opposing force, General Choi Minho had sent some of his men back down, but they’re too far up to make it in good time.

Unit Commander Shim has decided to send men he is confident in, men who will be able to defeat the northern tribesmen, or at least keep them in check while they wait for the back-up’s arrival.

The unit commander announces a list of names, but Jeno only cares about those called out after his own.

Lee Jeno.

Huang Renjun.

Lee Donghyuck.

Zhong Chenle.

Park Jisung.

When Unit Commander Shim orders the men he’s just called out to prepare for departure the very same morning, Jeno looks around the field in search for his friends.

It doesn’t take long, because they’re all already looking at him. Jeno locks eyes with Renjun.

This is it.

Na

If I was dying on my knees, you would be the one to rescue me. If you were drowned at sea, I’d give you my lungs so you could breathe.

If he was in charge, Jaemin would have asked to stay at the imperial army campsite for at least a week longer; and if that was too much of a request, he would have asked to travel back to the Southern Kingdom at a much slower pace instead.

Sadly, Jaemin is not in charge. He’s not the king. He’s only the second son of King Jung Yunho of the Southern Kingdom -- and of a concubine, at that. So when his father had sent a homing pigeon to the imperial army campsite ordering his son to come home in the meantime, Jaemin had no choice but to obey. As of right now, Jaemin holds no power.

It has only been a day and a half, but Jaemin and his royal party have covered about half of the expedition back home already. The head of the prince’s guard, Kim Jungwoo, had happily advised his prince that if they continue their current pace and not get into any trouble along the way, they will arrive at the gates of the kingdom at around midday the following day. Jaemin smiled at him, but if the prince was to be completely honest, he’d much rather go back to the imperial capital.

As his company prepares their horses and themselves to continue the journey back to the Southern Kingdom after taking a short break, Jaemin looks up to the sky and says a little prayer in his head.

Please let me be with Jeno again.

When Jaemin was younger, not big enough to train with the guards and not old enough to sit with the council, he tailed behind his mother almost everywhere she went. Being a royal concubine, his mother was more or less confined to the four walls of the royal palace where there was not much for her to do, hence Jaemin’s mother spent a lot of her time inside the prayer room.

Young Jaemin disliked the prayer room. It was too cold and too quiet, and the elders and ladies inside always gave him disapproving looks if he made any sound or any movement at all. In order to keep Jaemin away from trouble, his mother had taught him how to pray at such an early age, but young Jaemin could not comprehend the importance of it. He got everything he wanted and so much more without having to ask anybody for it anyway.

Jaemin was seven years old, turning eight in half a year still, when he started to see the value of praying. His older brother, Crown Prince of the Southern Kingdom Jung Jaehyun, had just turned 11, and as dictated by the Southern Kingdom’s law and tradition, he now had to spend most, if not, all of his time studying about the kingdom and how to rule it.

Despite being born to two different mothers, Jaehyun and Jaemin spent a lot of their youth together. Growing up, the two princes were immensely close, they were practically inseparable. They ate together, played together, studied together, and even slept together. However, when Jaehyun had come to the age where he was expected to be princely as the successor to the throne, everything he did together with Jaemin had to come to a stop.

His mother tried to console him, tried to explain to him how everything works in the lives of royalty, and Jaemin tried his best to understand, but it did not stop him from sneaking into the prayer room late one evening to pray for his older brother to come visit him in his bedroom sometimes so that they could play just like they used to.

The second prince awoke the next morning to an empty chamber, except for the servants always waiting by the door at his beck and call. Jaemin felt disappointed and sad. He had prayed seriously last night. He felt that he was going to get what he asked for, that he had to get what he prayed for. On the verge of tears, Jaemin told his servants to advise his mother that he was not feeling well and that he was not joining her for breakfast. Not wanting to be caught crying, Jaemin buried himself under his covers and cried himself back to sleep.

A few hours later, Jaemin awoke again, this time, to fingers softly carding through his hair and a voice soothingly humming a lullaby. He did not want to be confronted about the matter by his mother so he pretended to still be asleep. He was only jolted awake when he realized that the voice was too low to be his mother’s.

Up and about, Jaemin came face to face with Jaehyun, sweaty and dirty from having trained the entire morning with his royal guard, Seo Youngho.

“Jaehyun hyung!” Jaemin exclaimed as he excitedly threw his arms around his brother’s neck, not caring if Jaehyun was absolutely disheveled from sparring.

Jaehyun immediately hugged him back and lovingly ruffled the hair at the back of his head. “Hi, Jaemin. I’ve missed you. Your mother said you were feeling sick, so I came to check on you.”

There are no secrets kept hidden between the brothers, so Jaemin was unashamed as he allowed his tears to flow freely while he was enveloped in Jaehyun’s arms. His prayer had been answered; and from then on Jaemin prayed all the time.

Jaemin prayed for a lot of things over the years. He prayed for wisdom and grace so that by the time he turned 11, he may stand tall and proud alongside his father and his older brother at the head of the Southern Kingdom. He prayed for his father to love him as much as he loves Jaehyun. He prayed for his people to love him as much as they love his father and Jaehyun.

Through the years, Jaemin received the blessings he would ask for. He and Jaehyun found time to catch up and spend time together a lot. They not only played and hung out, but they also studied about the kingdom together, which in turn helped Jaemin prepare for the duties that would be assigned to him as soon as he turned 11. Jaemin grew up to be charming, creative, determined, hardworking, and sharp. His words and actions are respected even among the council members who are older and more experienced than he is. Jaehyun is incredibly proud of him, and his father feels the same.

Jaemin has long believed that the heavens must love him a lot for them to answer all of his pleas. He gets anything he wants and so, so much more, that he forgets that the heavens can also afford to be cruel.

They were travelling across a plain, and there was nobody and nothing there to keep them company save for the few shrubs and the occasional birds flying overhead. The silence made the presence of the uninvited guest known, but Jaemin and his men were still surprised.

The messenger charged at the royal party frantically from behind that the royal guards spared no second and drew their swords from their sheaths in defense as soon as they spun around. Both the horse and the soldier were in panic, and it took a while to calm them both down.

Jaemin was caught off guard, but when he recognized the messenger’s uniform to be the same one the imperial guards would wear, he quickly urged his horse towards the messenger.

“What message do you bring?” Jaemin asked immediately. 

“Your Highness, soldiers, Daegwallyeong.” The soldier was panting both from feeling tired and from feeling scared. Jaemin was a bit annoyed at the incomprehensible message but he forced himself to be patient. “Your Highness, the soldiers that were deployed to Daegwallyeong were ambushed in Makdong!”

It didn’t make sense, and it is physiologically impossible, but Jaemin’s heart was sinking as it was racing and his mind was floating as it was spinning all at once. He tried not to stutter. “Have there been any news from these soldiers?”

The messenger shook his head. He was still trying to catch his breath, but the anxiety and fear were clear in his eyes. “General Choi’s troops are still very far away from them, Your Highness.”

Jaemin quickly glanced at his royal guard, Jungwoo, and they shared a meaningful look for a quick moment. The prince is fond of Jungwoo. They’ve been through so much together. They understand each other. They're friends. Jaemin didn’t have to say anything else because Jungwoo was already the one doing all the talking.

Jungwoo turned to one soldier -- the one with the quickest stallion out of all of the guards. “Continue the journey to the Southern Kingdom and tell Commander Cho to prepare an army -- as much as he can gather, but at least 500 strong. Further instructions will be sent as soon as we get an idea of the situation at Makdong.” After that, he rounded up the rest of his men with his fierce gaze. “Men! We’re rerouting and heading to Pyeongchang. Our king had promised to help the empire win the war, and it is our duty to fulfill this promise.”

Without waiting for any form of agreement whatsoever from the members of his royal party, Jaemin spoke to the messenger again. Hands tightly around the reins of his horse and brows furrowed in both worry and determination, Jaemin ordered, “Lead the way.”

Unit Commander Shim had appointed Jeno to lead the troops that were being deployed to Daegwallyeong. “Your time has come, Lee Jeno,” the muban said to the blond just as he was about to mount his stallion. After placing a heavy hand on Jeno’s shoulder -- which the boy took as an act of reassurance and support, Unit Commander Shim had sent him and his men away to battle.

Jeno had almost 200 soldiers with him, leaving behind less than 50 men to guard the campsite. They left the imperial army campsite for Daegwallyeong as soon as they all put on their armor and prepared their weapons the very same day they received the order. Arrows and canons were packed into a cart. Some horses and some men were not fit to travel the more-than-a-hundred-kilometer trip to Daegwallyeong as quickly as possible, but those that could bravely and speedily went on.

The tribesmen are angry at the success of General Choi up in the northern borders, and anger only makes things worse. Anger only makes the war worse.

The men planned their expedition and strategized to attack from the south in an attempt to win by the element of surprise. From the capital, they raced through Gwangju, Yeoju, and Wonju. Everything was going smoothly up until they entered Pyeongchang and reached Makdong Valley.

At first glance, the dale had been serene, its green grass lush under the sunlight and its breeze cool through the trees. At a time of unrest, it is so easy to drown one’s self in the stillness of nature -- which is exactly what the soldiers had done.

A big mistake.

The first few arrows didn’t hit anyone or anything successfully, and they merely landed on the ground without much noise. The soldiers hardly paid any attention to the arrows that fell around them, but then in the next moment, a great number of arrows were shot at them from above. There were too many for the men to avoid that no matter where they ran, they were still bound to be hit by an arrow.

While they were being shot with arrows, groups of northern tribesmen began to attack Jeno and his troops from both sides. It was already difficult to save themselves from the hundreds of arrows being shot at them, and it was even more difficult to do so while defending themselves from violent northern tribesmen.

Shields in one hand and swords in the other, Jeno and his men did their best to keep themselves away from danger. They hammered their shields against heads, slashed their swords against bodies, kicked, and punched. Some men ignited whatever canons they could get their hands on, some had let their horses go wild. However, their efforts were futile. Nearly half of the men fell victim to the myriad of arrows, while another fourth were ruthlessly killed by the northern tribesmen.

Being the captain of the company, Jeno had to be brave, had to be positive, had to be strong. By some form of miracle, even if there were about four arrows embedded into his body, Jeno still managed to eliminate a number of the northern tribesmen all by himself.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the groups of the northern tribesmen began to fall back. Jeno had sighed in relief, but when he looked around him, his breath was caught in his throat. He was devastated.

All of their remaining supplies were either destroyed or stolen. Most of their men were either dead or severely injured. Jeno had wanted to scream in frustration, had wanted to cry in desperation, but instead, Jeno fell to the ground and passed out.

When Jaemin and his royal party arrive at Makdong Valley, he felt all the life drain out of him all at once. He moved along only because his horse hasn’t stopped walking, and if Jaemin had any energy left, he would’ve held his stallion’s reins to a stop. 

In the center of the vale, lifeless bodies were carefully piled on top of each other -- bodies of the men who had been killed in battle. All of the men’s eyes were closed as if they were merely sleeping, but the dried blood on their faces, torsos, and limbs screamed otherwise. Jaemin silently scans each face, looking for one in particular but hoping, praying, and wishing it wasn’t among the dead. He only gets to look at almost half of the men when Jungwoo calls for him from a few meters away.

Two small makeshift tents mainly made out of the supplies that were obviously destroyed during the ambush stand beside each other to the far side of the heap of bodies. Both tents house the remaining men of the troops that were ambushed -- about 50 or so, but Jaemin doesn’t sigh in relief when he finds that there are more men injured and in bed than there are men up and about but still worse for wear.

Jaemin looks at each man again, still searching for a specific face.

“Prince Jaemin,” Jungwoo says, sternly yet quietly, snapping Jaemin out of his desperate search.

The head of the prince’s guard is standing by the entrance of the second tent. One of his arms is outstretched and is holding the cloth acting as a door aside. Jaemin looks at Jungwoo with questioning eyes, but the latter doesn’t give him any answer. Instead, he keeps the door open until the prince is completely inside.

“I’ll be outside, Your Highness,” Jungwoo whispers just before he lets the cloth go and leaves Jaemin.

Inside the tent are four mats of some sort and one improvised cot. They hardly look comfortable, but what is comfort at a time of war?

There are three boys huddled together on the mats, asleep and resting, looking at peace but certainly far from it. One of them has a bandage around his head, another has a dressing around his chest, and the last one has one of his legs swaddled. All of the bandages are still bright red with blood, but they’re not the worst ones inside the tent.

By the cot was another boy who probably looked the best out of all of them. His hair, his body, and his clothes were covered in dust and blood. He had a few cuts and bruises, but there were no open wounds anywhere. On the cot was the last boy, and surely the one in the worst condition.

Jaemin takes a cautious step forward, immediately regrets it, then wants to take two, five, ten steps back.

He instantly recognizes the boy on the cot. How could he not when he has stared at that face countless of times before? He tries to hold back a sob threatening to escape through his lips and tries to keep his legs stiff as he walks even closer. Jaemin can’t keep himself together any longer. He falls to his knees right by the foot of the cot. The boy sitting beside the cot jumps in his seat, but Jaemin pays him no mind. Jaemin only looks at the boy on the cot, laying still, almost as if he were asleep, almost as if he were dead.

“Y-your Highness,” the boy stammers. He clambers into a sitting position to make himself look more presentable in front of the prince that was introduced to him a few weeks before.

Without letting his eyes leave Jeno’s body, Jaemin asks, “Wh-what happened? What happened to him?”

The boy follows Jaemin’s line of sight and stares at Jeno too. “He’s lost too much blood, Your Highness. We’re out of bandages and medicine, and we don’t have any more food or water. The rebels ambushed us, killed most of our men, destroyed or stole all of our supplies.”

“I only have so much with me,” Jaemin croaks. His throat is beginning to hurt from forcing himself not to cry. He finally turns to look at the boy, and Jaemin stares back at hopeless eyes. “General Choi’s armies are still far away, and the troops from my kingdom will still take a while to arrive.”

The boy curls his lips into a small and sorrowful smile. The despair is thick in the air, and Jaemin chokes on it.

Jaemin doesn’t leave Jeno’s side the entire time. Jungwoo comes in after some time to ask the prince how he’s doing and if there’s anything he needs. Jaemin orders him to gather all of the food and supplies they have with them and distribute them to the injured men of the imperial army.

The royal party from the Southern Kingdom does not have much. Being only a group of 20 men and supposedly a day away from arriving home, their supplies and food are scarce. Jungwoo stretches their commodities out as thinly as he can, but it’s all really only enough to last them until tomorrow morning.

The three other boys inside the same tent wake up a little later. They recognize Jaemin and bow to him, but Jaemin waves them to ease. The brunette with a bandage around his leg limps to the side of the cot, where the other boy has been sitting down. When Jaemin realizes that the brunette is taking the other boy’s place in caring for Jeno, Jaemin sits up in his seat and tells the boys that he’ll be the one to attend to Jeno this time. The other boy smiles at Jaemin appreciatively.

With shaking hands, Jaemin dips a cloth into a bowl of healing oil diluted in water. He makes sure to wring out the excess liquid. Even if it will be less potent that way, there is no other choice. Jaemin gently swipes at Jeno’s body, paying close attention to each bruise and cut. With each soft wipe of the cloth on Jeno, Jaemin chants in his head, over and over again. It’s a mere string of words more than it is a prayer, but Jaemin says it with so much emotion, he begs the heavens to grant another one of his pleas.

Don’t die on me, Lee Jeno.

Dinner is dried meat and stale bread. Jaemin declines even when Jungwoo opens his palm to reveal a handful of dried fruits -- Jaemin’s favorite -- but he asks for his ration and gives it to the boys in the tent for them to share.

“What are your names?” Jaemin asks as they eat. He’s still sitting beside Jeno, still holding on to Jeno’s hand.

The boy who had been caring for Jeno when Jaemin arrived speaks first. “I'm Huang Renjun, Your Highness.” The boy with the wounded leg is Lee Donghyuck, the one with a chest injury is Park Jisung, and the one with the bandage around his head is Zhong Chenle. Jaemin nods in acknowledgement and smiles at them all.

“Are you friends of Lee Jeno?”

All of them nod. The blond, Jisung, opens his mouth but closes it instantaneously without saying anything. Jaemin catches his drift.

“You can say that I’m a friend of Lee Jeno’s too.” The prince can sense the surprised and puzzled looks the others are giving him, even if they’re trying their best to conceal them, but Jaemin doesn’t ask or say anything any more. He leaves the boys to finish their meals and turns to dress Jeno’s wounds once more.

Jaemin helps Renjun, Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung with their own injuries. He’s grateful that he listened closely to his nurse every time she dressed his wounds because he puts what he’s learned to good use. Once their injuries have been cleaned and their dressings have been changed, Jaemin tells them all to go to bed even if he knows that the boys will stay awake for a long while. No matter how tired and pained one may be, it’s difficult to fall asleep when time and life are slowly but surely slipping through one’s fingers.

Hand in Jeno’s own, lips on Jeno’s knuckles, Jaemin holds on to Jeno as if it was Jeno’s literal life line in his hands. He still hasn’t stopped chanting, saying Don’t die on me, Lee Jeno over and over in his head like a prayer.

Too focused on Jeno, Jaemin doesn’t notice Renjun take a seat opposite of him until the latter offers Jaemin a cup of water.

“You haven’t taken anything, Your Highness,” Renjun says when Jaemin doesn’t immediately accept it.

Jaemin takes a small sip and is about to set the cup aside when he catches Renjun staring at him, as if to say, finish the drink. Jaemin does so with a ghost of a smile. Renjun mimics the expression when Jaemin downs his drink.

“He wasn’t always this quiet, this still,” Renjun begins. He speaks so softly that Jaemin has to lean against Jeno’s cot to hear Renjun better. “A little after we finished making the tents and gathering everybody alive, Jeno was talking in his sleep. He kept calling out for his parents, and for a Taeyong and a Minhyung. He also kept saying your name.”

When Jaemin catches Renjun’s gaze, he sees a lot of emotion swimming in his eyes: anxiety and fear of what will be of who is left of their company, despair and sorrow about what their situation has turned out to be, worry for Jeno, and even wonder about Jaemin and what his relationship with Jeno actually is.

The prince sighs. “Jeno and I have known each other ever since we were children.”

“I-is Jeno from the Southern Kingdom too?”

Jaemin shakes his head. “It’s complicated,” he replies instead.

Renjun stares at Jaemin for a moment, but this time, he’s looking at the prince with a blank stare. When Jaemin raises an eyebrow questioningly, Renjun answers with, “Funny, Jeno said the same thing before.”

Early the next morning, Jaemin asks Jungwoo to send two of their men out on foot and in stealth to scout their surroundings for any lurking northern tribesmen or any other potential sources of danger. Jaemin and Jungwoo share a knowing look, but Jaemin chooses to be positive and casts his pessimistic and realistic thoughts aside. The current situation is already heavy and suffocating as it is.

With the remaining Southern Kingdom guards alert and on the watch, Jaemin allows the imperial soldiers to rest. He drops by each man and tends to his needs as well as he can. Renjun, who looks to be the most well out of all of the members of the imperial army, helps him out. They work quietly, words are hardly exchanged between them, but their partnership is smooth. Renjun cleans, Jaemin dresses.

There’s nearly nothing left of either their food or their supplies. Both Jaemin and Renjun either leave the injuries open or reuse the bandages because there is nothing new left to clean and dress them with.

“If the bleeding won’t kill them,” Renjun starts. His lower lip is trembling and he bites on it to keep it from doing so.

“The infection will,” Jaemin finishes. He wipes at a man’s deep gash across his abdomen with a piece of cloth already drenched in blood as a pointless attempt at cleaning the wound.

The two men who had left to check the tents’ surroundings come back running panic-stricken later in the day. Their faces are etched with fear and their lips are pale in worry.

“What is it? What did you see?” A clearly distraught Jungwoo asks his men.

With shaking legs, the men say, “An estimate of three thousand northern tribesmen are currently around us, Sir.”

“And what are they doing?” Jaemin asks them this time.

“Marching this way, Your Highness.”

The sun shines down on Makdong Valley and it sets the dale ablaze in vibrant yellows and golds. It’s a picture-perfect place holding an extremely unfortunate circumstance.

Jaemin is back on the seat beside Jeno’s cot. He’s running a thumb along Jeno’s knuckles, allowing his eyes to roam all over Jeno’s body.

The entire time Jaemin had been by his side, Jeno had not made any sound or any movement. The only clue that he’s still alive is the slow but steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Jaemin presses a kiss on Jeno’s body whenever he can, and with each peck, he tells Jeno to stay alive, to fight, to come back.

Renjun approaches Jaemin and Jeno in his tattered armor. His dusty shield dented in a few areas is in one hand while his sword gleams in the other. Jaemin is also dressed in his armor, but his shield and his sword are leaning against the cot. He stands up and reaches for his weapons, and feels their weight in his hands before looking at Renjun square in the eyes.

"You're dressed."

"I'm fighting with you."

“I’d much rather have you stay here, Renjun-ah.”

Renjun’s mouth falls open. “Pardon me, Your Highness?” He doesn’t wait for any explanation and continues to speak. “I may not look much, but I have worked hard for the past months to train for this. I am a soldier. I will protect those who need to be protected, and I will die trying if I have to.”

Jaemin smiles at Renjun. Fondness in his eyes, pride in his chest, appreciation in his heart. The corners of his lips rise, making his cheeks look full. It’s the biggest smile he’s ever worn since he was with Jeno last at the imperial army campsite. “Please don’t take it the wrong way, Renjun. I’ve seen you train, and I know how good you are on the battlefield,” Jaemin begins to explain. He walks over to where Renjun is standing and stops a few steps shy from the other boy. “But I need you to stay here. With Jeno. And with Donghyuck, and Chenle, and Jisung. They need you to stay here with them. This is how you will protect those who need to be protected.”

Renjun opens his mouth to argue, but no words come out. Jaemin smiles at him, wider this time, and the prince hopes that it looks more reassuring than he actually really feels.

Jaemin bends down to place a kiss on Jeno’s forehead. I’m sorry, Lee Jeno . He straightens up and walks to the opening of the tent without another word or another look back.

“Who’s going to protect you?” Renjun asks just before Jaemin steps out of the tent completely.

The prince doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have a certain one, not even Jungwoo. He turns around to look at Jeno before looking at Renjun. “Please take care of yourself. Please take care of Jeno for me. You’d do well.”

The opposition must have sent somebody to check on how the remaining members of the imperial army are doing earlier, because they march onto the western edge of Makdong Valley without making much of a fuss. They’re aware of the upper hand they have on the imperial army right now. They form a long line that stretches wide and far back as well, as if they need to flaunt their great number against the measly company Jaemin has now. It’s three thousand against not even a hundred. Jaemin knows how this is going to end, and he hates it.

Jaemin and Jungwoo stand in front of the imperial army, looking at the army of the northern tribesmen right across them. They were raised and trained to be brave and to be strong, but they both admit that it’s almost impossible to be either at a time like this.

“Jungwoo,” Jaemin begins carefully. When they look at each other, their eyes are glassy with tears. “Jungwoo, you can’t die.”

The head of the prince’s guard snorts. “I won’t die, Prince Jaemin. I can't die because I have to keep you alive.”

The prince takes a step closer to his guard, to his friend. He reaches for one of Jungwoo’s hands and clasps it with both of his own. “Stay alive for yourself, Jungwoo hyung, or if you think that that’s cowardly for a knight to do, then stay alive for Jeno. For the rest of our men. For Renjun. For the injured imperial army soldiers.”

Confusion makes its way into Jungwoo’s features, and Jaemin only looks at him patiently. A little later, realization dawns on Jungwoo’s face, and it is his turn to hold onto Jaemin. “You can’t. Jaemin, I know what you’re thinking of, and I’m telling you that you can’t.”

Neither of them noticed that Renjun has been making his way towards them, they only find Renjun standing by their sides when he asks, “What's going on? What are you doing?”

Jungwoo doesn’t bother to call Renjun out for eavesdropping. The distress is clear in his body, and it becomes even more clear when he lets out a strained sob.

Renjun turns to Jaemin for answers instead. In lieu of a response, Jaemin pulls out a wooden tag with twine tied to the top of it from underneath his armor. Renjun recognizes it, he has a similar one, but instead of blue ink, Jaemin’s has Na Jaemin engraved onto the surface and filled with white ink.

White for members of the royal family.

“This is the only way.”

"Jaemin," Renjun whispers, dropping the formalities because of the desperation. "Jaemin, please."

Both Jungwoo and Renjun try to stop him, try to keep him from going, but Jaemin orders them to stay behind. “As your prince, I am ordering you to let me go.”

Jaemin rides his stallion halfway to where the northern tribesmen are standing. He gets off his horse and pets its face before he sends it back to where they came from. His shield and his sword are secured to his stallion’s reins so he has nothing in his hands except for his name tag. He eyes the expanse of the line of the northern tribesmen. Then, he raises an arm, his hand clutching his wooden tag as if it were a life line.

And right now, it is.

Right now, Jaemin has power, so much that he can put a stop to this war.

“I am Na Jaemin, the second son of the king of the Southern Kingdom!”

A northern tribesman atop a horse gallops towards Jaemin immediately. He takes the wooden tag from Jaemin’s hand and races back to the line. He hands the name tag to a man whose helmet resembles a crown -- the chief of the rebels. The same northern tribesman, only this time, accompanied by the man he had given Jaemin’s wooden tag to and three other men, makes his way back to Jaemin. When the rebels are only a few meters away from the prince, Jaemin draws a dagger from under his armor and presses its blade against his jugular vein.

“Leave your best medics and your supplies and let my people go. In exchange, I will come with you.”

The chief of the invaders accepts Jaemin’s deal instantaneously. He knows full well what Jaemin is worth, and he is willing to trade his medics, his supplies, and the lives of mere soldiers for him. He looks at the northern tribesman who first approached Jaemin. “Gather our best medics and leave them here with all of our supplies.” Then, he turns to the other three men who came with him. “Get the prince.”

Jaemin steals one last glance behind him, where Jungwoo, Renjun, and the rest of his men are standing and watching him be taken away.

Don’t die on me, Lee Jeno.

Back in the tent, Jeno’s eyes flutter open.

It takes a while for Jeno’s friends -- Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung -- to find out that he’s already woken up. The youngest learns first, after he approaches Jeno’s cot to check how the older is doing. Jeno is still lying on the cot, unmoving, except this time, his eyes are blinking the sleep and disuse away.

“Hyung!” Jisung cries, to Jeno and also to Donghyuck and Chenle. The latter two rush to Jisung’s side, and when they realize that Jeno has already awaken, they can’t contain the tears of joy that spill out of their eyes. They huddle around Jeno, overjoyed.

Jisung runs out of the tent despite the ache in his chest to look for Renjun and Jaemin. He’s crying, but he’s still smiling. “Jeno hyung is awake! He’s alive!” He cheers as soon as he sees two familiar figures in the distance.

“Jeno hyung has finally woken up, hyung!” Jisung says again when he reaches the two men. He looks at Renjun’s face and finds an expression that’s part happy and part relieved, but not enough of either for good news as such. Jisung then turns to the person beside Renjun, expecting to find Jaemin standing there, to share the good news, but seeing Jungwoo instead.

Renjun’s heart leaps into his throat and he can’t stop the tears that flow from his own eyes upon hearing the good news; but he feels his heart sink back into his chest and even deeper into the pit of his stomach when Jisung finally asks, “W-where is Prince Jaemin?”

Renjun pulls Jisung into a hug and cries in the younger’s arms.

Renjun and Jisung go back to the tent first as Jungwoo makes a detour to the other tent to call for one of the medics. Jeno is propped up with makeshift pillows on his cot, and when Renjun and Jisung enter, he smiles.

“Hi.”

Renjun cries again as he makes his way to Jeno and sits on the edge of his cot. He reaches for Jeno’s hand and they hold each other’s hands tightly.

“You’re alive.”

Jeno chuckles. “Thank the heavens.” If only Jeno knew.

A medic enters the tent a while later. Jungwoo tails behind him, his head bowed as he is hesitant to look Jeno in the eyes. It’s a lost cause, because Jeno recognizes him almost immediately.

“Kim Jungwoo? W-what are you doing here? I-is Jaemin here? Did Jaemin come with you?” Beside Jeno, Renjun stiffens.

The medic looks at Jungwoo as if to ask if he should give them a minute or if should proceed with attending to Jeno’s injuries. Jungwoo nods at him once, do the latter option. When the medic crouches by Jeno’s cot, Jungwoo chooses to stand at the foot of it.

“Your H-" Jungwoo takes a deep breath. "Y-you’re alive, Jeno, that’s great.”

Jeno isn’t having any of it. He straightens up on his cot. “Answer my questions, Jungwoo.”

The head of the Southern Kingdom’s prince’s guard sighs. He tries his best to look composed. “As we were travelling back to the Southern Kingdom, a messenger from the imperial army campsite chased after us to report the ambush. We came straight here upon receiving the message. It was what Prince Jaemin ordered. We hardly had anything with us, and you and your men had nothing left. Two of my men scouted the area and found three thousand invaders surrounding us. They marched here this morning.”

“And?” Jeno asks, clearly impatient and anxious. “What happened? Where is Jaemin, Jungwoo? Where is he?”

Renjun, who is still sitting beside Jeno and holding onto his hand, rubs the back of Jeno’s hand with his thumb. Renjun wishes it can comfort Jeno, even if he's not comforted himself. When Jeno’s attention is on him, Renjun smiles sadly. His lower lip trembles as he says, “Prince Jaemin sacrificed himself to the northern tribesmen in exchange for their best medics and supplies.”

Jeno’s breath catches in his throat, and he chokes on it in angry and pained cries.

Later in the afternoon, when all of the men have been treated by the medics and given their lunch rations, a homing pigeon arrives from the Southern Kingdom. A Southern Kingdom soldier unties the rolled parchment from the bird’s leg and immediately brings it to Jungwoo.

“It’s from Unit Commander Cho,” Jungwoo announces as soon as he unrolls the letter and recognizes the insignia. Jeno nods in acknowledgement and urges Jungwoo to continue. “He said that there is an ongoing raid at our southern borders. Most of our men are deployed down there now to control the situation, but he is reassuring us that he will send men as soon as there are any available.”

Frustration fills the air. It’s as if everything is conspiring to exacerbate the current situation. When Jeno looks at Jungwoo, desperation is clear in his eyes.

Jeno has been feeling better, but not yet well enough to actually chase after the northern tribesmen to get Jaemin back, and he knows that the same can be said for the rest of the members of the imperial army. Even if, by some sort of miracle, all of the men are strong and well enough to fight, their numbers have nothing against those of the northern tribes. They will certainly lose, and Jaemin's sacrifice will be in vain.

“Send a message to Minhyung and Doyoung quickly. Tell them that they need to come as soon as they can.” 

Three days pass on Makdong Valley, and majority of the men are already up and about. They have burned the bodies of the dead after gathering their wooden tags to give to their families later on, and they have made better makeshift accommodations for themselves at the dale. Jeno and his men and Jungwoo and the soldiers from the Southern Kingdom are all dressed in their armor. They’re all dusty and dented, but they look a little better than they did a few days prior.

That same day, an extravagant party of about 5,000 strong from the imperial capital marches onto the vale. There are no fanfare trumpets, no drums, but the company travels with a confident air only people of certain power can attain. They’re still at quite a distance from where Jeno’s troops have set camp, but Jeno recognizes the man and the stallion in the very front of the army. He's relieved, even just by a bit.

Some of the men have the flags of the imperial capital at the top end of long poles, while other men bear the insignia of a son of the emperor. The banners dance with the wind as the royal party stops on the patch of land where Jeno’s troops are stationed.

The man atop the ebony stallion right in front of the company gets off his horse in one swift motion. He lands on the ground with finesse, and he takes long strides towards Jeno who is on the other side of the field, standing in front of his own humble troops.

The soldiers recognize the man as Prince Lee Minhyung, second son of Emperor Lee Donghae of the Lee empire. The son placed in charge of peace within the empire. They immediately get down on their knees to pay their respects to the esteemed prince.

Prince Minhyung doesn’t mind any of them. Every part of him is focused only on Jeno. He quickens his pace in such a way that anybody who didn’t know any better would have thought that the prince would charge at Jeno in an attack, but instead, Prince Minhyung throws his entire body at Jeno to engulf him in a warm embrace.

Renjun, Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung, who are standing the closest to Jeno, watch with astonished looks. They grow even more confused when Prince Minhyung takes a step back, but keeps his eyes on Jeno’s own and his hands on Jeno’s shoulders as he says, “Brother.”

Minhyung, Doyoung, and the head of Minhyung’s royal guard, Nakamoto Yuta, are taken to the tent by Jungwoo. Jeno ushers Renjun, Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung to follow. The disbelieving looks are still on their faces, but Jeno ignores them in the meantime. He does the same when Minhyung raises a questioning eyebrow at him and the four unfamiliar faces he brings into the tent.

What has happened at Makdong Valley over the last few days is explained in detail to the visitors. They listen attentively, and occasionally, their eyebrows would knit together in either alarm or concentration.

“I’m guessing bringing you back home is not one of our choices,” Minhyung speaks up first once the recounting of what transpired ends.

Jeno, who is sitting right across of Minhyung, shakes his head. “I’m not going back home without Jaemin.”

Minhyung nods understandingly.

Altogether, the men device an agenda. Minhyung brought his own army and the soldiers sent back by General Choi with him to Makdong Valley. Doyoung, as head of prince's guard, gathered his men as well. Jungwoo sent another message to General Cho earlier that day to ask him to send the army as soon as possible.

With over 5,000 soldiers with them as of right now, Jeno plans to chase after the northern tribesmen to get Jaemin back. Although it’s a risky action to take, Minhyung agrees after he and Yuta have determined the quickest route to take in order for their army to corner that of the northern tribesmen at the northernmost part of the empire, where General Choi is still holding strong.

“Even if we catch them off guard and attack suddenly, I’m sure they’re keeping Jaemin in the chief’s tent. He and his guards could harm him as a counterattack,” Jungwoo points out.

The rest agree. They’re all deep in thought, but after some time, Renjun speaks up. “We can secretly follow the northern tribesmen up until they come to a stop. While they’re resting, we can spread out and surround them. A small number of us can sneak into their camp by pretending to be one of their own. We can get Jaemin out of there before we attack at full.”

The others look at Renjun seriously. His idea is an even more dangerous plan than the first, but every one of them knows that it’s the only way to ensure Jaemin’s safety and at the same time, finally put a stop to the war.

The men look at each other and nod, silently passing the message to prepare for battle.

It is tricky to execute their ploy in the evening, so the soldiers are given the night to ready themselves and to rest in preparation for the battle.

Minhyung invites Jeno over to the tent his men had set up for him. “You seem to be disappointed to be having a meal with me, Jeno,” the prince comments when the blond stiffly takes a seat across him. “Do you wish to be eating with somebody else?”

Jeno takes the prince’s teasing lightheartedly. He chuckles and tosses a grape at Minhyung.

The prince picks the fruit up from where it had landed on his lap, his lips spread out into a comfortable smile. He pops the grape in his mouth and chews. “Which one?” Jeno raises a confused eyebrow, so Minhyung elaborates. “Who among your friends is the one you like?”

Jeno slumps in his seat. “I’m afraid, hyung. I could lose the both of them -- I’ve already lost one of them. I could lose you and Doyoung hyung and my other friends too.”

Silence envelopes Minhyung and Jeno for some time. The older boy could choose to be optimistic, but at a time of war, it’s always better to be realistic. Realistically speaking, if anybody or if anything fumbles when they proceed with their attack tomorrow, Jeno could be right.

“I know you don’t feel like eating, and I’m sure you won’t be getting any sleep tonight, but please try. You’ll need to be at your very best tomorrow. For everybody.”

Jeno is the first to wake the next morning. He gets dressed quickly and quietly before he exits his tent and heads to the stables to prepare his stallion. He’s busy putting on his horse’s armor when Renjun arrives to help him. Renjun stands on the other side of Jeno’s horse, and is already dressed in his armor too. The two of them work in silence for a while, neither of them knowing what to say after everything that has happened in the past few days.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I’d appreciate it if you could help me sort my thoughts out,” Renjun begins quietly. Jeno nods, so Renjun continues. “When Prince Jaemin was here, he told me that the two of you have known each other ever since you were children; which means, when you met each other at the imperial army campsite, you were already acquainted.”

“Acquainted is an understatement,” Jeno comments under his breath.

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Right, because Chenle caught the two of you kissing at the stables right before the prince had left that time.” Jeno is silent again, so Renjun goes on. “While you were unconscious, you kept calling for your parents, and Prince Jaemin, and a Taeyong, and a Minhyung.” A pause. “Minhyung, as in Prince Lee Minhyung? Who called you ‘brother’?”

Jeno nods twice, one for each of Renjun’s inquiries.

"Taeyong. Is he a prince too?"

Jeno nods again. "Yes. The crown prince of the Lee Empire."

Renjun takes a breath. “So. You’re a prince?”

“Yes. My name is Lee Jeno, and I am the third son of Emperor Lee Donghae.”

Renjun is taken aback. All this time together, but he hadn't known. “Alright. Your Highness,” Renjun adds hastily, but Jeno waves him off for it.

“It’s the part where Prince Jaemin is concerned that isn’t crystal clear to me. You’re definitely more than just friends.”

It’s Jeno’s turn to inhale deeply. “Right. Jaemin is my betrothed. He and I have been engaged to each other since we were 11 years old. We were supposed to get married earlier this year, but the invasion caused us to postpone our wedding in the meantime. He’s been busy accomplishing his duties in the Southern Kingdom while I’ve been busy accomplishing mine in the capital.”

Renjun is the one nodding this time. A blank look is splayed across his face, and Jeno can’t decipher it. “Okay, but what’s so complicated about that? The both of you keep saying that things are complicated between the two of you. Don’t you love each other? Don't you want this? Is that it?”

Jeno sighs. “We do. I love Jaemin, and I know he loves me too. It’s just that--” The third prince doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Yuta steps into the makeshift stables with them to collect his and Minhyung’s horses.

“We’re all ready to go, Your Highness,” Yuta tells Jeno with a bow.

Jeno nods at Yuta. He waits for the imperial guard to leave before turning to Renjun again to continue what he had been saying earlier, but again, he doesn’t get to because Renjun beats him to it.

“Donghyuck is incredibly clever, and he came up with the idea of Doyoung, Jungwoo, me, and you being the ones to sneak into the rebels’ campsite while the others wait in the sidelines. We have to make sure that only the chief and Jaemin are left before we make the deal. The four of us can take care of the unnecessary men.”

Jeno believes in Donghyuck and his abilities, but having both Jaemin and Renjun in a dangerous mission leaves an unsettling feeling in his chest. He opens his mouth to argue, but when he looks at Renjun again, the boy has already walked away.

As agreed upon, Yuta, Doyoung, and Jungwoo leave Makdong Valley first. They’re followed by Minhyung, Jeno, Renjun, Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung. From Pyeongchang, they cut through Heongsang, then pass through Chuncheon, then Hwancheon, before they finally stop at Cheorwon.

Halfway through Hwancheon, Yuta, Doyoung, and Jungwoo call their company to a stop. A couple of northern tribesmen have been spotted up ahead, and it is best for everybody’s safety that they spread out from here to be able to surround the opposing party successfully.

Yuta takes half of the men and heads west, while Minhyung takes the remaining half and heads east. Doyoung, Jungwoo, Renjun, and Jeno leave their big weapons on their horses and entrust them to their friends.

“As soon as you get Jaemin out of there, light a signal, and we’ll attack if needed,” Minhyung advises. He’s staring at the four men with much determination and strength, but one quick glance at Jeno has the younger prince feeling the worry his older brother is trying his best to conceal.

Doyoung, Jungwoo, Renjun, and Jeno enter the forest the northern tribesmen from earlier were seen going into. It’s a bit of a challenge to track them down, but they finally find them trying to catch fish by the riverbanks. They kill the rebels swiftly with deep cuts to their throats. They change into the invaders’ clothes and make sure to collect their weapons.

It’s not as much of a problem to look for the campsite because many of the men are temporarily leaving to gather food for lunch, so Doyoung, Jungwoo, Renjun, and Jeno just take the opposite of the path these men are taking. Jeno hopes that the members of the imperial army who have separated to hide don’t get into any serious trouble while the rebels hunt for food.

Upon arrival at the northern tribes’s campsite, the tent of the chief is easily spotted as it is surrounded by numerous soldiers and adorned with expensive decoratives.

The four members of the imperial army stop for a while and look at each other cautiously. They had assumed that the chief would be guarded, but they hadn’t expected him to be so this heavily.

Doyoung chews on his lower lip as he thinks. “It seems that there are opening flaps at the sides of the tent. If we’re quick and quiet, we can enter through any of them.”

Jungwoo nods. “Once we’re inside, we have to get rid of all of the other men. We only need the chief and Jaemin alive.”

“And when we have the chief’s attention, I will distract him and you all have to make sure you get Jaemin to safety,” Jeno finishes.

Renjun points to his left. “There are not a lot of people walking this way, we can take this route to get to the tent.”

Trying their best not to catch anybody’s attention, the four of them take the path Renjun had identified and make their way to the tent. They take a few stops every once in a while because a couple of guards make rounds outside the tent. Doyoung catches a rhythm, and when he deems the time to be right, they all briskly make their way to one of the openings at the side of the tent and slip inside.

There are about 15 men inside -- 16, if you include Jaemin whose arms are tied to a rope hanging from the ceiling of the tent. Thankfully, all of the men are busy drinking wine in some form of celebration as Jaemin hangs limply in the middle of them all. Jeno is confident that they can take down all of these men with as little trouble as possible, but he sends nervous glances in Jaemin’s and Renjun’s directions anyway.

Part adrenaline and part anger, the four members of the imperial army attack the men inside the tent with more technique than power to prevent anyone outside from hearing the mess they’re currently making. Jeno cuts through two men at once, their blood spilling out of the slashes in their body in slow and painful flows. Somebody swings a bottle of wine at the back of Jeno’s head, and it makes him dizzy, but not enough to keep him from piercing through the attacker’s body with his sword.

“Keep Jaemin safe!” Jeno shouts at Renjun who has taken place in front of the captured prince and is hurting and killing anybody who takes one step too close to either of them.

Glasses are breaking, tables are upturning, men are grunting and bleeding, but the fight goes on. While Doyoung likes to strike deeply so one cut is enough to take a man’s life, Jungwoo enjoys jabbing at his opponents at the points he knows are most fatal so that they bleed to death.

All of the men of the northern tribes are on the floor, either dead or near to it, by the time Jeno locks the chief’s head in his arms and presses the blade of his sword precariously against the side of the chief’s neck. The northern tribesman tries to break free from Jeno’s grasp, but his movements allow Jeno’s sword to break a little of the skin above his jugular.

“Make any more unnecessary movements and you’ll cut yourself to death,” Jeno warns the chief. He stops struggling against Jeno’s hold, but he remains rigid. Jeno continues to talk. “Listen carefully. It’s four of us against only you. Shout, and I'll kill you right here. We have nearly twice as much men surrounding your entire campsite, ready to attack as soon as we give a signal, so don’t do anything stupid.”

Jeno cocks his head at Doyoung, who steps forward to retrieve Jeno’s wooden name tag from under the prince’s armor. He shows it to the northern tribesman. “I am Lee Jeno, third son of Emperor Lee Donghae of the Lee Empire. If you agree to my terms, we’ll let you go. If you choose to rebel even further, we’ll make sure you’ll regret your decision.”

The chief nods. Jeno enlists his conditions. “First, you will let Prince Na Jaemin of the Southern Kingdom go, with us. Second, you will go out of this tent and announce to your people that you are putting a stop to the war you started and will be retreating to where you came from at the soonest possible time. Third, you will return to your lands and not cause any more trouble for anybody, especially the people of the empire.” Jeno presses his sword even harder against the northern tribesman’s neck to emphasize the power he has over him. “Agree to my terms and you will leave with gold, show any signs of resistance, and we will show no mercy.”

When the chief nods again, Jeno nods at Renjun to cut the rope that has been keeping Jaemin hung from the ceiling. The Southern Prince crumples to the ground, and Renjun immediately attends to him.

Jaemin looks the worst Renjun has ever seen him. His hair is dry and dusty, his face has cuts and bruises, his lips are chapped and bleeding, his body is limp and beaten. Renjun finds it unbelievable that the prince still has the audacity to smile up at him. “You kept Jeno safe,” Jaemin croaks.

Renjun pulls out the canteen of water from his belt and brings it to Jaemin’s lips. As the prince gulps the water down, Renjun looks him in the eyes, smiles in relief, and says, “I’m saving you too.”

Jungwoo sneaks out of the tent to light one of the signals he had brought with him. It rises to the sky in a stream of smoke before briskly bursting into a sparkle of red. It hardly catches anyone’s attention, but it’s enough to let Minhyung and Yuta know that Doyoung, Jungwoo, Renjun, and Jeno have succeeded, and that they can begin their descent upon the northern tribes’ campsite.

After repeating his terms to the chief, Jeno pushes the northern tribesman to the entrance of his tent with the tip of his sword pressed against the part of his back, directly opposite to his heart. Without showing the inside of the tent, the chief pops his head outside and calls for the nearest guard. He explains the conditions, recounts the situation, and tells the guard to quickly make the announcement.

Once the statement has been made known to the entire campsite, Jeno lets the northern tribesman go. He hoists Jaemin up from the ground with Renjun’s help, and altogether, with Doyoung and Jungwoo trailing behind them, they leave the tent and walk towards where Minhyung, Donghyuck, Chenle, and Jisung are standing.

“You didn’t die on me, Lee Jeno,” Jaemin mumbles as they make their way out of the campsite. Jeno can’t see his face, but he’s certain that the prince is smiling and trying his best not to cry.

“Good to know you didn’t die on me either.”

The emperor sends gold to the borders at Cheorwon immediately. Afterwards, the troops of General Choi and the company Minhyung and Jeno have with them begin their journey back to the capital.

It takes almost a month to get everything back to order, but peace is slowly but surely restored inside the empire.

The capital only gets extremely busy again when Emperor Lee Donghae and King Jung Yunho officially announce the marriage of their youngest sons, Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin.

“Can you believe it?” Jaemin asks, more to himself than to Jeno who has just entered the room, but Jeno hears him anyway. “We’re finally getting married.”

Jaemin feels rather than sees his betrothed take a seat beside him. The cushion of the bed dipping slightly under Jeno’s weight, the tips of their fingers lightly brushing against each other.

The blond takes Jaemin’s entire hand in his own. “Remember when it was all you could think about when we were younger?” He’s grinning widely, teasingly.

“Remember when you said that you didn’t want it?” Jaemin challenges. He pulls his hand back and there’s a look of feigned offense on his features.

Jeno laughs out loud as he reaches for Jaemin’s hand again. He brushes his thumb against Jaemin’s knuckles gently, lovingly. Neither of them say anything for a while, but no words need to be said, not when they’re both thinking of the way they look at each other, the way they touch each other, the way they hold each other, the way they smile and laugh, the way they kiss, the way they love each other.

The Southern Kingdom’s prince looks at Jeno through his eyelashes. He asks just as softly as he did earlier, “You want it now, right? You want this with me?”

The imperial prince grips Jaemin’s hand tighter and scoots closer to him. He kisses the back of Jaemin’s hand, pecks one kiss on each of his knuckles and many more on the back of his hand. “Yes,” Jeno says in between each kiss. “I do. I’ve wanted it for so long.”

Jaemin shifts his hand until he’s cupping Jeno’s face and running his thumb across Jeno’s cheek. Jeno kisses his palm before they’re moving even closer to each other. Foreheads touching, noses brushing, just right before they press their lips lightly together.

It’s one chaste kiss after one chaste kiss.

“You want it too, right?” Jeno double checks. Jaemin is tempted to flick him on the nose for asking.

“I’ve never wanted anything as much.”

The two of them shift in their seats so they end up with Jaemin’s back pressed against Jeno’s chest. Jeno wraps his arms around the younger prince, and their hands intertwine on top of Jaemin’s middle. They’re both quiet for a while, comfortably, familiarly.

“What are you thinking of?” After all these years, it still sometimes amazes them how they know each other so well, how they memorize each crease on their faces, each line on their palms, each thought in their heads, and each emotion in their hearts.

Jaemin sighs. There’s no need to lie to Jeno, not when Jeno knows what he’s thinking of, not when Jeno is thinking of what he’s thinking. “Huang Renjun.”

A hum of acknowledgement and a kiss on top of his head. “He makes you happy. He makes me happy,” Jeno states.

“Yes, but will we make him happy?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

When Jaemin cranes his neck to look at Jeno and capture his lips with his own, he prays that everything will work out.

Together, Jaemin and Jeno make their way to the village up in Seoraksan Mountain. They bring only Jungwoo and Doyoung with them as to not attract so much attention.

It’s easy to find Renjun’s home. The kind villagers they ask point them in the direction of the plaza and tell them to knock at the house right across it.

A man with a limp in his left leg opens the door for them, and his wife comes out of the kitchen almost as soon as the boys step into their humble abode.

Jeno introduces themselves, then asks where Renjun is. The couple tells them that Renjun is in their backyard, painting. It’s all he’s been doing ever since he came back from the war. Jaemin asks that if it’s alright with the husband and the wife, he and Jeno would like to talk to the both of them privately first.

Jeno walks into the Huang’s backyard first. Jaemin stands by the backdoor of the house, and merely watches as Jeno approaches Renjun. Smile on his lips, adoration in his eyes.

“Of all the things to paint, you really chose to paint Makdong Valley.”

Renjun’s hand stops mid stroke, creating an unnecessary blob of blue ink on the sky he had painted, before dropping his paintbrush onto the ground.

“J-jeno? I-I mean, Your Highness!” Renjun exclaims as he scrambles out of his seat to bow down at Jeno.

The imperial prince stops Renjun midstep and guides him back to his stool. He smiles down at Renjun before saying, “It’s been a while, Renjun-ah.”

Jeno crouches down so he’s eye level with Renjun. They gaze into each other’s eyes for a moment, before Jeno takes a deep breath. “The morning we saved Jaemin from the invaders, you asked me why the both of us said that things were complicated between us. You asked me if it’s because we don’t love each other, and I answered that we do, we love each other very much.”

The prince takes Renjun’s hand. “We’ve all spent many months out at war. Those times may have been difficult, but having each other during those moments helped each one of us power through the tough times. At first, we thought that it was only brought about by the trying times, but it’s been more than a month, and our hearts have still been restless.”

Jeno begins to stammer, so Jaemin approaches him and Renjun with careful steps. When Renjun looks at him, Jaemin smiles widely, affectionately. “We like you a lot, Renjun. You make us happy. You make us better, stronger. You make this better, stronger. Both Jeno and I agree on this. We feel the exact same way,” Jaemin crouches beside Jeno, and he confidently takes Jeno’s hand in one of his own and carefully envelopes Renjun’s hand with the other. Jaemin is brave, but this moment is driving him crazy with uncertainty. Only when Renjun shyly intertwines his fingers with Jaemin’s does the prince get enough confidence to ask, “We came here to ask you if you feel it too?”

Renjun feels his breath hitch in his throat. The past months have been incredibly hard on him too. He left his family to go to war without having any knowledge or skill in combat and weaponry. He had been beaten up, bullied, and mocked by men who were unafraid to hurt him. He had been injured and had almost died in the hands of men who showed no mercy. He lost acquaintances and friends, and he thought he had lost the two people he had fallen in love with over the course of the last months.

The heavens must really love Jaemin a lot, and with loving Jaemin comes loving Jeno and Renjun.

It’s surreal to Renjun to have two princes look at each other and look at him with so much admiration and affection, with so much love. Renjun may have helped save the prince of the Southern Kingdom and consequently, the Lee Empire, but as he confesses his love for both Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin, Renjun thinks that this must be what it feels like to have saved the entire world.