Chapter Text
When Gi-hun first caught sight of the dark towers of Blackthorn rising into view, he couldn’t help the quiet sigh of relief that left him. They’d been on the road for nearly a week and at last, there it was, the end of their long, tiring journey.
He shifted slightly, turning to address the prince behind him on Heukseong. In-ho guided the stallion with the usual confident control Gi-hun had grown obsessed with. When their gazes met, that familiar thrill ran through him again, warm and bright. My love my love my love.
“Now that we’re here, does this mean I’ll have to start counting the hours to see you again?” he asked, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Since you’ll be so busy now you’re home, Your Grace.”
In-ho let out a quiet huff. None of the trip’s exertion showed on his face; he looked as handsome as ever, Gi-hun couldn’t help but admire. “Your Grace?” he echoed, amused. “Are you going to start calling me that again?”
Gi-hun grinned. “Should I not? I hear you’re quite important here. And in the whole country, so they say.”
“I’m devastatingly important,” In-ho agreed, in that dry, deadpan way he slipped into sometimes when he was joking and there’s people around. “But I’m still not leaving your side.”
“We’ll see about that,” Gi-hun said, shifting slightly in the saddle. “You’ll be pulled away by advisors, ministers, whatever it is princes do all day. I’ll be lucky if I get a glance.”
In-ho guided Heukseong through the large iron gates without breaking stride. “We haven’t had to be apart for three months,” he said, glancing at him. “And we’re not starting now, wherever we are.”
“That sounds suspiciously like a promise.” Gi-hun said, laughing as he ran a hand through the stallion’s mane. Heukseong neighed energetically, clearly pleased to be home.
“It is one.” In-ho said simply. He leaned in then, pressing a brief kiss to the back of Gi-hun’s neck, making him laugh. In-ho was never one for public displays of affection, but they were far enough ahead of the rest of the party that no one would notice a moment like that.
Now within the grounds of Blackthorn, Gi-hun looked up in quiet admiration. The castle seemed to rise straight from the dark, rocky hill itself, all sharp lines and shadowed towers, its black walls stark against the bright sky above. He’d never seen a hill like this before; all dark stone instead of the grassy slopes he was used to. It looked foreboding.
Definitely the biggest one so far, he thought idly as he took in its scale. Over the course of the summer, he’d started keeping track of every castle they passed through. As the hereditary seat of the crown prince stretching back generations, it wasn’t surprising that Blackthorn outshone the rest.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Gi-hun continued with a mock sigh. “You won’t even let me ride properly. Everywhere we go, I’m practically sitting in your lap.”
“Not true,” In-ho replied as they passed through neatly trimmed hedges. “You’re sitting in front of me.”
“I said practically in your lap,” Gi-hun huffed, a hint of real annoyance slipping into his tone. “Heukseong wouldn’t have to work so hard if you’d just give me my own horse, you know.”
In-ho’s hand tightened slightly on the reins, his answer as familiar as ever. “It’s safer for you, with me.”
Gi-hun recognised the tone well enough to know the matter was closed. They’d had this conversation too many times for it to go any differently. Still, he rolled his eyes, turning his attention away as the castle grounds opened up before them, clean and expansive.
His silent admiration of In-ho’s abode was interrupted when the man himself groaned behind him. “I told them not to do this.”
Curious, Gi-hun followed his gaze to see a large group of people lined up before the entrance. The castle staff, he realised with a flush of embarrassment. He fidgeted in the saddle as In-ho guided them towards the rows of smiling servants, the rest of his household riding close behind them.
As a servant took Heukseong’s reins, In-ho said dryly to an older gentleman in a fine robe trimmed with fur, “Didn’t I tell you not to have the staff greet me, old man?”
The gentleman, whom Gi-hun assumed must be the castle steward, chuckled. “I was going to follow orders, Your Grace, I swear. But I heard this was to be a very special homecoming.” His eyes flicked to Gi-hun, who felt himself flush under the scrutiny.
Gi-hun could practically feel In-ho roll his eyes as he dismounted, helping him down after. “Stop it, Yeong-gil. You’ll embarrass him,” he said, though his tone was too warm to sound like a true reprimand.
In-ho took Gi-hun’s hand and turned them both to face the rows of smiling staff. He felt every eye on him like a heavy weight and he struggled not to shrink under their gaze. Such was the cost of being on the arm of the crown prince, he’d long since learned. After three months of enduring the same attention from everyone he met, Gi-hun wondered if he’d ever get used to it.
The prince gave a short nod to his staff, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Good afternoon. Thank you for taking the time to greet us, though you really shouldn’t have,” he chided lightly before gesturing toward Gi-hun. “This is Gi-hun, my companion.”
A chorus of greetings and welcomes followed. Gi-hun felt overwhelmed as the steward introduced him to each member of the household, proudly announcing their names and roles. He tried his best to keep up, offering what he hoped was a polite smile at each. In-ho’s steady presence beside him was a godsend, holding his hand the whole while.
After the endless introductions, In-ho whisked him away to give him a tour of the castle, waving off the handful of eager staff who had volunteered for the task. As they strode down the hall, finally and blessedly alone, In-ho pulled him close.
“They just wanted a good look at you, you know.” he murmured in Gi-hun’s ear, making him shiver.
“I know,” Gi-hun sighed. “I was just thinking… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. The staring, the whispers...”
He caught the slight downturn of In-ho’s lips as he glanced at him, expression sympathetic. In-ho let go of his hand to slide an arm around his waist, a familiar gesture that made Gi-hun melt into him every time.
“I’m sure you will, one day. The way I did.” He said gently, though there was something firm beneath it, like he’d see to it personally.
On this supposed tour, Gi-hun found himself looking at In-ho, his beautiful prince, far more than the grand castle. He just couldn’t help it. Still, he reasoned that after months spent passing through one hall or another, all palaces, if not identical, shared the same rooms and purposes. Plus, he’d have time to take it all in.
As if hearing his thoughts, In-ho spoke as they turned a corner into a large, elaborate space that Gi-hun guessed must be the great hall. “The staff will grow used to you soon, and they’re all you’ll have to deal with here. I don’t grant many audiences at Blackthorn. It’s different from Kingspire.” He shot him a knowing smile. “You’ll be glad of that.”
Gi-hun didn’t doubt that at all. He’d heard plenty about Kingspire, the monarch’s residence and the heart of the court. How the lords and ladies there vied endlessly for the king’s favour, all backstabbing and political intrigue. Sir Sae-byeok, a noble knight Gi-hun had grown close to on the road, had called the castle a “snake’s nest.”
He’d been warned that Kingspire, in the capital of Sun’s Reach, lay very close to Blackthorn, barely two hours away by horseback. Even so, he’d been surprised to catch sight of the royal palace’s signature tall white spire from the Kingsroad, visible all the way up to In-ho’s gates.
“I’m sure I will,” Gi-hun said lightly, giving a mock shudder that drew a laugh from In-ho. “I’m looking forward to getting to know your staff better. I could barely remember anything from that introduction.”
In-ho chuckled, slowing to a stop in the middle of the great hall, directly beneath the fractured light of the massive stained-glass window above the throne. It seemed to depict a victorious battle, and the colours spilled across the room in shifting shades.
The light caught along In-ho’s features, turning one side of his face colourful and shimmery while the other fell into shadow. Gi-hun imagined he looked much the same, standing there opposite him, smiling. It’d been a little while since they’d had a moment alone like this, and he felt a giddy sort of relief.
“Apologies for that. My steward has always been rather particular about formalities,” In-ho said, taking Gi-hun’s hands in his. “You’ll have all the time in the world to get familiar with them. I think you’ll especially like Geum-ja, our head cook. And Jun-hee, the tutor I told you about.”
Gi-hun nodded, remembering In-ho’s stories about them, particularly Geum-ja, who’d worked for the Hwangs since In-ho was a child. But then the phrasing In-ho used caught up to him.
“Well, I wouldn’t have all the time in the world,” Gi-hun teased, still smiling. “We’re just here to rest, remember? But I’d have time enough.”
In-ho hummed, releasing Gi-hun’s hands as he turned to regard the empty hall, shimmering with colour and light. “I thought you’d like to see this room at this time of day. Beautiful, isn’t it? The window?”
What was that, Gi-hun thought, startled. He was still caught on the sudden change of topic, the loss of touch, when In-ho turned back to him. Leaning in conspiratorially, he spoke again.
“It was designed by one of my ancestors, as a way to distract the people he granted audiences to. Particularly his enemies. Something about standing too long in this room, in this light, plays tricks on the mind.”
Nodding distractedly, Gi-hun glanced at the shifting colours spilling across the hall, then back at him. “That’s clever,” he said. “And yes it’s… it’s very beautiful… In-ho, how long will we be here again? Until I can go back to my mother? You’re sending me to her, right?”
In-ho’s expression didn’t change, or maybe it did, Gi-hun suddenly couldn’t tell, not with the way the light fractured across his face. All he knew was that familiar feeling creeping back, the one he got every time this topic came up. That faint sense that something wasn’t right.
“We’ll be here a fortnight at most, jagi,” In-ho said calmly. “Let us, and poor Heukseong, rest, hmm? We’ll be back on the road before you know it.”
He reached out and pulled Gi-hun close once more, the smile on his lips easing his nerves a little. “I have matters to attend to before we leave,” In-ho added, gently brushing a lock of Gi-hun’s hair from his forehead. “I’ve burdened Jun-ho with most of my duties long enough.”
Gi-hun perked up at the familiar name, one he’d heard so often from In-ho. All his worries faded. “He didn’t come to greet us?”
“Knowing him, he probably forgot we were arriving today,” In-ho said with a quiet laugh, guiding Gi-hun out of the hall. “Come, let’s go find him. I remember how keen you were to have someone your age around.”
It was true; over the past three months, Gi-hun had rarely met anyone close to his age. Even so, he’d made fast friends with several members of the gentility, at least the ones In-ho approved of. He thought back fondly on his farewell with Sae-byeok, Ali Abdul, Dae-ho, and Hyun-ju. They’d promised to visit him and his mother someday; he hoped they meant it.
The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, each turn revealing another high-vaulted ceiling, another set of carved doors, another lavish space, all blending together after a while. He walked hand-in-hand with In-ho, listening as he pointed out rooms, explaining their purpose, recounting memories or bits of history.
As they stopped before a large set of wooden doors, In-ho said teasingly, “This is the library. You’ll be spending a lot of time here with Jun-hee.”
Gi-hun rolled his eyes, remembering the hours upon hours he’d spent learning to read and write with the tutors employed by the lords and ladies they’d visited. In-ho had arranged the lessons immediately after discovering how little formal education Gi-hun had received, only what Mal-soon could afford.
Still, frustrating as they could be, he did enjoy them. “I’ll look forward to it.” Gi-hun said, only half-joking.
Laughing, In-ho pushed the doors open and gestured him inside. The room felt quieter than the rest of the castle somehow, as if it had thicker walls. It was lined entirely with shelves filled with books stretching high above. Tall windows let in softened light, illuminating the still, undisturbed air.
And there, seated at one of the heavy oak tables in the centre of the room, was a man Gi-hun didn’t recognise at first. Not enough like In-ho to place immediately, but similar enough that Gi-hun knew who he was on a second look.
Prince Jun-ho. In-ho’s younger half-brother, the one he spoke of with a fondness Gi-hun hadn’t seen directed at anyone else.
Jun-ho was striking in an entirely different way from In-ho. Even sitting down Gi-hun could tell that he was taller than his older brother, though without the same breadth, his frame leaner. Even their colouring set them apart, In-ho’s dark brown hair and warmer skin contrasting Jun-ho’s fairer complexion and dark locks.
At the sight of his brother, In-ho shook his head with a small smile and walked further into the room. “Still holding down the fort, Jun-ho?”
Jun-ho looked up from the papers he was studying, and the change in him was instant. Where he’d been pensive and focused, his expression was now bright enough to light up the library.
“Hyung!” he exclaimed, pushing to his feet and crossing the distance in quick strides to pull In-ho into a tight embrace. “You’re back earlier than I thought!”
In-ho returned it just as easily, ruffling Jun-ho’s hair when they parted. Jun-ho whined, ducking away from his hand. “I arrived about an hour ago.”
Jun-ho’s smile lingered as he looked at him properly, as if making sure he was really there. Then his attention shifted to where Gi-hun stood a few feet away, suddenly feeling unbearably shy and uncertain.
Even knowing what he was to In-ho, Gi-hun always struggled when someone else was added to the mix. It felt like stepping into a role he hadn’t been given the script for. And here stood In-ho’s closest kin, the boy he’d said he practically raised. How was Gi-hun supposed to act?
Should I be formal? But they aren’t. Are the rules different for me? What even am I?
There was a brief pause, just a beat longer than what’s polite, as they took each other in. Jun-ho’s gaze was curious; Gi-hun’s, something closer to panic.
As always, In-ho stepped in when he faltered. “Jun-ho, this is Gi-hun,” he said, beckoning him forward. “He was my companion throughout the tourney.”
“I’ve heard,” Jun-ho said, his gaze still on the subject of so many recent conversations in the realm. He stepped closer, offering an easy smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Gi-hun bowed his head respectfully the way In-ho had taught him months ago. “Likewise, my prince. His Grace has told me a lot about you.”
Jun-ho’s brows lifted in mild surprise as he glanced at In-ho, clearly not expecting Gi-hun’s formal greeting. In-ho’s expression was soft, pride written in the lines of his features.
The younger prince huffed a soft chuckle. “I bet he has. Let me guess, he told you how I wouldn’t stop following him around when I was young.”
“When you were young?” In-ho scoffed. “You’ve barely stopped.”
“I have too,” Jun-ho protested. “I stayed out of this year’s tourney, didn’t I, to handle your duties?”
“I had to practically force your hand,” In-ho replied calmly. “You were begging to enter the jousts, remember?”
As the brothers bickered, easy and familiar, Gi-hun felt his anxiety begin to ease. It didn’t feel like the conversations he’d endured with nobles over the summer, where every word was weighed and judged. Here, it felt real; no ulterior motives behind every action.
“Speaking of the tourney,” Jun-ho said at last, leaning lightly against the table as he looked at Gi-hun. “Three months is a long time to be stuck with that crowd. I’m surprised you made it out sane.”
Gi-hun’s mouth curved before he could stop it. It felt like Jun-ho had read his mind. “I’m not sure I did, honestly.”
Jun-ho’s smile widened, his gaze playfully knowing. “So it was that bad.”
“You have no idea. It was less a tourney and more a zoo exhibition, but I was the one on display.” Gi-hun grumbled jokingly, surprising himself. It’d taken him a while to grow comfortable enough with In-ho to joke around, but with Jun-ho, it came almost instantly.
Jun-ho laughed outright, his head tipping back. Watching him, Gi-hun realised his first impression had been wrong. Even if they only shared a father, Jun-ho and In-ho did look alike, especially when they laughed.
“Oh, I have some idea,” Jun-ho said, sharing a knowing look with In-ho. “And that sounds about right.”
“Still,” he added lightly, his gaze flicking between them, taking in how close they stood, “it must’ve been worth it.”
Gi-hun flushed, resisting the instinct to step away from In-ho’s side. The prince hated it when he did that. You don’t have to move aside, not for anyone, your place is next to me, he’d said once. “I suppose it was.” Gi-hun admitted.
A subtle shift crossed Jun-ho’s expression before he nodded. “And you’re staying here now?” he asked, his tone casual, yet carrying a weight Gi-hun couldn’t quite decipher.
“For the time being.” In-ho answered before Gi-hun could. There was something in his voice too, not quite a warning, but close to it.
Whatever the unspoken message was, Jun-ho clearly understood as he only nodded with an easy hum. “Then I hope Blackthorn will be kinder to you than the tourney was.”
“It already is.” Gi-hun said with a small smile, meaning every word. Jun-ho returned it, looking so much like a younger, more boyish version of In-ho that Gi-hun could only stare in awe.
When he felt In-ho’s gaze on the two of them, Gi-hun remembered with a jolt the prince’s jealous streak, something he’d grown very familiar with. There’d been no shortage of men and women trying to catch Gi-hun’s interest during the tourney, with varying degrees of boldness. Needless to say, Gi-hun had learned quickly that In-ho was possessive, and never hesitant to show it.
But this is his brother, for God’s sake, surely…
“We should continue the tour,” In-ho said, placing a hand at Gi-hun’s back and guiding him gently toward the door. “There’s still much of the castle left to see. Let’s leave Jun-ho to his duties.”
“Your duties, hyung,” Jun-ho snorted, rolling his eyes as he slouched further against the table exhaustedly. “I can’t wait to hand everything back to you.”
As they neared the exit, Gi-hun glanced back at Jun-ho, smiling at the sound of In-ho’s quiet exhale beside him. A three-month break wasn’t nearly long enough, the prince had told him once.
“I hope I’ll see you again, my prince.” Gi-hun said, surprising himself once more. A little forward, maybe, but he truly meant it and was comfortable enough to voice it out.
If he was being inappropriate, Jun-ho didn’t show it. “You will,” he said, straightening slightly. “Very soon. And call me Jun-ho.”
His gaze followed them as they left, thoughtful and curious. The moment they stepped back into the corridor, the stillness of the library gave way to the vastness of the castle once more.
“He’s everything you described.” Gi-hun said, unable to keep the note of excitement from his voice. It felt good to have someone his age around, especially someone friendly. Even though he was a prince, second in line to the throne, and likely had little in common with Gi-hun. Still, it was a start.
In-ho hummed beside him, his hand resting heavy at Gi-hun’s back. “He likes you too. You’ll get along well.”
Gi-hun glanced sideways at In-ho as they walked, trying to gauge his mood. He didn’t look or sound any different, nothing like he had when Lord Moon Ki-yong made that sleazy pass at Gi-hun right under his nose. Gi-hun often found himself thinking back on that tense moment, and the night that followed.
Still, he did a playful little skip down the corridor, if only to lighten the mood. “So, where to next, Your Grace?”
Gi-hun knew it worked, perhaps a little too well, when he felt In-ho’s hand slide down his body to give his backside a firm squeeze. He had an obsession with it, Gi-hun knew, and secretly delighted in.
“You haven’t seen our chambers yet.” In-ho said, his casual tone at odds with his continuous groping.
Gi-hun only laughed at his shameless antics. “Lead the way.”