Chapter Text
The imperial throne room was silent except for the hollow echo of Seo Dawon’s boots as he crossed the marble floor. High pillars loomed like watchful giants, and the golden banners of the empire hung heavy in the still air.
Dawon knelt, his broad shoulders straight despite the weight pressing against him. The heir of the North never bowed easily, yet before the emperor—even his pride had limits.
The old man on the throne gazed down with cool indifference. “Seo Dawon,” the emperor’s voice carried like steel striking stone, “it is time you proved your loyalty to the crown.”
Dawon raised his head slightly, dark eyes sharp. “I have done nothing but serve the empire, Your Majesty. If you doubt my loyalty, speak plainly.”
The emperor’s lips curled into something too thin to be called a smile. “Then you will marry my son.”
For a moment, Dawon thought he had misheard. His jaw tightened. “Your… son?”
The great doors creaked open. From their shadow stepped a figure so slight he seemed swallowed by the expanse of the hall.
The prince.
Dawon had seen the imperial children at court before—dazzling figures in silks and jewels, trained to shine beneath their father’s gaze. But this one… this one was different.
The boy—no, the young man—moved with hesitant steps, pale as moonlight, thin as a reed. His robes, though embroidered with gold thread, seemed to weigh him down rather than adorn him. His gaze barely lifted from the polished floor.
“This is my youngest,” the emperor said carelessly, as if presenting a piece of discarded cloth. “Leekyung.”
The name was a whisper Dawon had heard only in passing rumors: the hidden prince, too frail for battle, too timid for politics. Useless to the empire.
Leekyung stopped a few paces away. He lowered himself into a bow so deep it looked as though his fragile body might snap. His voice trembled when he spoke:
“I… I greet you, Lord Seo Dawon.”
The sound was soft, almost swallowed by the cavernous hall. When he raised his hands in a formal gesture, Dawon saw them shaking.
Something inside him snapped.
This—this was what the emperor offered him? After years of blood spilled in the snow, after bearing the burden of the North and its people, he was handed a weak, trembling boy as his bride?
It was not an alliance. It was mockery.
The emperor’s gaze was sharp, unfeeling. “You desire the title of Grand Duke. Marry my son, and it will be yours. Refuse… and you will remain heir forever, bound by your father’s shadow.”
The words were chains disguised as silk. Dawon clenched his teeth, fury rising in his chest.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he forced the words out, each syllable bitter on his tongue. “I will… accept.”
Leekyung flinched as if struck, though Dawon’s eyes had not even met his.
The hall was silent again, the decision sealed.
And in that silence, Dawon swore to himself:
I will never love him. Never.
If the emperor thought to humiliate him with this fragile prince, Dawon would endure it, but he would not give his heart. His pride, at least, would remain unbroken.
Leekyung’s trembling hands lowered to his side, his head still bowed. In that moment, Dawon looked at him fully for the first time—at the boy too frail to even meet his gaze.
And all Dawon felt was disdain.