memoir of a nuisance

It had taken only three days for a certain phrase to reach every corner of the land: 

King Hyunseok had fallen devastatingly ill, cursed to his bed, and unfit to rule.

And for three days, Beomgyu did not see Yeonjun. 

The minute they heard the words, the prince had taken off immediately and he had not seen the prince since then, not even a glimpse. Many of the people, officials, nobles visiting and such had been removed from the palace, the main palace closed for visiting, and only those who work & live on the grounds were allowed to stay. 

In just three days, grounds of life and regality had become sullen and desolate. Beomgyu know well that illness is a tragic, tragic thing. For it is the one thing in life that does not discriminate— not between the wealthy and the poor, the loved and the unloved, the alphas nor the betas and omegas.

Illness is but a slow unraveling chill, a cruel reminder of the fragility of flesh and bone. 

And it is not an easy thing to watch, he remembers well what it did to his own mother.

When the illness came for her, he remembered the way her body had betrayed her. For five years, she has been confined to the infirmary and it had been difficult to watch because it was a reminder of how easily life could be stripped away, even from those who seemed invincible. 

Beomgyu could only imagine what it was doing to the king. No one but the immediate royal family, close court physicians, and very, very few trusted individuals knew of the king's condition. There had been many rumors; some say it is a farce, others say it is his old, or the common cold, a few think that he was poisoned. 

And Beomgyu does not know what the king may have, but he knew whatever illness he had was different from his mother’s. It wasn’t slow and creeping like her’s, no, it was sudden and violent, enough to say he was now deathly ill. 

He knew that this situation must have severely impacted the royal family. The House of Choi was known for being tight knit, they all loved each other dearly. He knew they were all cooped up in the Palace of the Monarch, where both the king and queen resided, watching over the king, praying for any sort of recovery. 

In those three days in the middle of December, as the snow piled in and the winter tensed the land, Beomgyu could only wait.

Wait for any sort of word about the king’s health, the condition of the royal family, and how a certain alpha in particular was holding up. Everyone wanted to know, for without a healthy king to rule, there is but one solution, and it has everything to do with Yeonjun. 

And the thought of what was to come next absolutely terrified him. 

He wanted to be there for him, for all of them as stupid as it sounds. He wanted to do everything he wished someone would have done when his own mother fell sick. He wanted to be by their side, comfort them, for he knew how difficult it is to watch an illness eat away at someone you love. 

But he could not do anything as he was not allowed to see them.

The last time he saw the prince, he knew something caused him to change, something was said to him. And he knows it is the reason why the prince was acting the way that he did. But now with the tragedy of the king and everything else, Beomgyu could not feel more impossibly far from the prince. And he was cursed with the ability to do nothing but wait. 

Then, on the dawn of the fourth day, a summons arrived.

The scroll had a wax seal bearing the mark of the queen. He opened it, scanning the brief message that called for his immediate presence. He swore he had never dressed so quickly. His hands were unsteady as he fastened the ties of his clothes, sliding the ruby pendant underneath his shirt. 

And his thoughts were endless. Queen Eunyoung had summoned him personally. Had something happened? Had the king worsened overnight? Would Yeonjun be there?

The palace, once alive, now felt still. The snow had fallen thick and yet, the stillness within these walls was far more suffocating than the cold. The guards stationed outside her chambers stepped aside at once and the doors loomed before him.

Still, he did not hesitate.

Stepping inside, the warmth of the chamber washed over him immediately, the air smelled of nutmeg and spruce wood. The light dimmed from candle flames that swayed gently against the wooden walls. And there seated by a low table, was Queen Eunyoung.

Beomgyu nearly faltered at the sight of her.

Gone was the woman who always held herself with effortless grace and who led the room with nothing more than a smile. Instead, what sat before him was a wife struck down by grief.

Yet when she looked up and met his gaze, something inside her seemed to break.

“Beomgyu,” she whispered.

The way she said his name made his chest tighten, his breath stilling in his lungs. He barely had time to bow before she stood, and in the next moment, she was crying.

Without thinking, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her just as they once had when he used to serve her, or those moments when he was a young boy and she would steal moments away to embrace him in secret.

She clung to him desperately, fingers digging into his back as quiet cries wrecked her.

“I am sorry, Beomgyu,” her voice cracked with sorrow, “I am so sorry. I know how much this must pain you, too, and I have taken long to see you.”

His throat ached with the effort to hold back his own emotions.

The complexity of his relationship with the king had never been something he could put into words. The man had never been extremely cruel to him, but he had also never fully accepted him. He had kept Beomgyu at a distance, never treating him as someone to hate but never as family, either.

And yet, even now, with the knowledge that the king was slipping away, he felt the shock of this tragedy deep in his bones.

“You need not apologize, Your Majesty,” he whispered, “I understand.”

She pulled back slightly and wiped at her tears with trembling hands. Despite her exhaustion, she inhaled deeply and composed herself.

“My Hyunseok is not well,” she said at last, “He can barely move, barely stay awake… The pain is unbearable.” And then she exhaled shakingly, “The physicians say he has but a few weeks left.”

A sharp pressure constricted in Beomgyu’s chest. The world had already felt so unsteady these past few days, but now with the certainty of her words it felt as if the world he knew had suddenly tilted. 

“Was there any sign of this before?” he asked quietly, “Is it truly as sudden as they say?”

She shook her head as if she was tired of hearing the question, “Nothing, Beomgyu. Truly, nothing. And yet… deep in my heart, I cannot help but think someone has done this to him.”

At the implication, he felt sick. 

The thought of someone doing something so vicious, with an intent to harm or to end life, to a king who was nothing but good for the people and his house, it was a hard pill to swallow.

Wide-eyed, he asked, “Would anyone dare harm King Hyunseok like that?”

She let out a bitter laugh, one that did not suit her, “Everyone. That is what it means to be a ruler.”

Beomgyu’s thoughts swirled violently.

He thought of the visitors, the ministers who had lingered in the palace halls, the people who entered the royal grounds in and out every single day. It could have been anyone. And then he thought of Yeonjun, of the imminent threat of what his future holds, and he felt even more sick. 

Queen Eunyoung then inhaled slowly and suddenly he felt the ambiance change. He pushed his thoughts away before they could consume him. When she spoke again, her voice was much quieter.

“I summoned you here to ask something of you, something only I can entrust to you.”

The omega felt himself nearing her to match her quietude, “Anything, Your Majesty.”

Her hand then reached out, fingers smoothing over his hair with a gentleness that nearly undid him.

“Yeonjun… well, he has not taken any of this news kindly. But,” she began and the mere mention of the name made him tense,

“The Council and I have decided. He is to ascend, and by spring, he will be king.”

It felt like the world had stopped turning.

Beomgyu staggered, his breath catching in his throat. His vision blackened for a moment, fading into the background, drowned out by the deafening rush of blood in his ears.

Yeonjun will be king. 

It was a statement that should not have shaken him. He had always known this day would come, the moment Yeonjun was born, the heavens had already carved out his path. But knowing something and feeling it were two entirely different things.

As the words settled into his mind, he felt like he was drowning in realization. The wound that had formed from the loss of his presence had suddenly deepened, gashing and bleeding out. Ever since his heat, no, even before then, the majority of him cared deeply for the alpha and since this tragedy happened, the ache he had for him only worsened. 

Now, standing there as the words rang with finality, he began to fear there was never going to be a way to soothe this ache. His skin burned with the urge to feel cinnamon and cedar seep into him, to hear the sound of his voice, to even catch a glimpse of him before it all goes away.

And the tender voice of the queen was not enough for it to settle down.

“In three days, he will begin to travel to each house, to see who will pledge fealty to him. To learn the land he will rule, just as his father once did.” She continued, “And I will go with him.”

An unfamiliar sort of anxiety settled into him, cold and unwelcome. He knew how these journeys worked— lengthy and arduous as the future king visited every noble house to secure alliances, and prove himself worthy in the eyes of the land’s most powerful families. Traveling those routes and entering unfamiliar environments with him will not be easy as well.

Then the queen spoke again, “I ask you, in the time we are gone, to stay behind and care for the King.”

What? 

He blinked, processing the words. 

And then it slowly became clear, he was not to go with him. And suddenly the longing within him, the pain he had of not being near the alpha, expanded at the thought of being separated for months. If he could not even handle over two weeks of barely seeing Yeonjun, how on earth is he to handle even longer without seeing him at all? 

And then, the reason for him staying behind became even more clear. 

Beomgyu felt the anxiety within him suddenly change into something more uncertain. She was entrusting him with the care of the most powerful man in the land, the same man who had sentenced him to fifty lashes, who had once told his own son to stay away from him, but who had also treated him with an odd sort of distant kindness throughout his life.

To be by his side, to be one of the very few who would see him in his final weeks. 

Beomgyu had not even fully grasped the reality of the king’s condition, yet here he was being asked to bear witness what might be the last days of a ruler who had shaped the world he lived in.

A part of him wanted to say he wasn’t the right person for this. That he did not belong at the side of a dying king. To, instead, send him with Yeonjun, send him to be alongside the man his body has been craving, yearning for.

But then he thought of Queen Eunyoung and the way her hands trembled as she clung to him. He thought of the royal family, of the way they must be feeling right now, of how Yeonjun’s entire life was changing before him. And so he straightened his spine and inhaled deeply. 

He ignored the feelings within, betraying his instinct, and reminded himself of his duty.

“I will do it,” he bowed his head, “Anything for you and your family, Your Majesty.”

The queen smiled then, something small and grateful, as if she had never doubted his answer, “I knew you would.”

But his mind was still racing. 

Had Yeonjun known about this? Had this decision been made behind his back, or had Yeonjun accepted it without a second thought? Did he approve? And he felt his chest tight with something he did not want to name.

He forced his voice to remain even, “Does the Crown Prince know of my new role?”

The question hung in the air for a beat and the queen hesitated just for a moment, just long enough for him to notice. Then she spoke,

“Yes,” and there was something unreadable in her voice, “We discussed this beforehand.”

Beomgyu studied her face, searching for something, anything, that might tell him what the alpha had thought when he learned of this. Had he agreed with ease? Had he questioned it? It mattered so much, to know of everything that the prince did or thought of him. 

And by God, how he missed him.

He wanted nothing more than to see him. He wanted to be by his side, to speak to him, to assure him that he was not alone in these times. But the space between them, which had been placed from their birth, had now grown in spite of their efforts to shorten it. And with it, there was even more that Beomgyu wanted to say and do. 

But what could he possibly offer a man standing at the precipice of a world way beyond him? And more than anything, what right did he have to want? He had spent years watching the alpha, cursing him, loathing him, and now he loves him. But it is a love that is unmistakably impossible, selfish even. 

He had no right to want. 

And yet Beomgyu cannot forget how he had witnessed how the edges of the prince’s cruelty, the arrogance bred into his very bones, had been slowly unraveled. How parts of the alpha that had softened and allowed him in. They had developed something so delicate, so beautiful that it willed him to live.

All of which would disappear by spring. 

And before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out, “I wish to speak with him.” 

The queen’s expression shifted into something of suprise. Realizing himself, he immediately began to apologize, “Forgive me, I didn't mean to overstep—”

But she interrupted him, “I understand, Beomgyu, you worry for him.”

His breath hitched slightly but he remained silent, unsure of what to say. He did worry for him, how could he not? But to admit that out loud felt out of bounds.

What he felt for the alpha was something that could have him exiled, killed even. He was not allowed to love Yeonjun the way he did, and he could never admit that to anyone. So, the thought of his care being evident even just by his expression worried him a bit. 

“I had heard,” she continued with a hum, “of how close you two have become.”

And he felt an unfamiliar panic lacing through his veins at her words. 

He was uncertain of where she was going with this, of what she thought. He knew that during his heat, someone had spoken to Yeonjun of them which caused the prince to distance himself. He thought it was the king of all people, but he realizes it could have been the queen too.

But she did not sound cruel or mocking, did not wear the expression of someone prying into matters she detested. Instead, she simply looked… relieved. But then, before his mind could spiral further, she smiled, gentle and kind, the way a mother smiles at a child.

“I am glad…” Queen Eunyoung paused before reaching out to touch his face, “that you two finally care for one another.”

And the words did nothing but quicken his already spiraling heart. He wanted to cry. Overwhelmed by everything he felt, by the words, by life, and he just wanted to cry. 

Then the queen sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face, “We will speak of this again soon. There is much to prepare, and time is not a luxury we possess. We leave in three days.”

Beomgyu lowered his head, “I understand, Your Majesty.”

He should have excused himself then, should have bowed and taken his leave, but his feet remained rooted in place, a strange, restless energy thrumming beneath his skin.

And perhaps Queen Eunyoung sensed it.

Her eyes softened before she spoke, “Yeonjun’s quarters are in the east wing, if you wish to look for him.”

Beomgyu felt himself swallow hard, the offer catching him off guard. Was he really that much of an open book? Regardless, he bowed his head, “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will visit you early tomorrow morning.”

And a small smile appeared on her lips, “I will expect you.”

With that, he turned and left, the sound of his own footsteps echoing through the corridors. 

But even as he walked away, the feelings in his chest did not lessen. Instead, it settled deeper, threading itself into his soul as his path turned toward the east wing.

Beomgyu then moved through the palace in search for him.

He fought his very instincts to move in desperation although that was what he wished to do. But he refused to let himself show it. He moved with haste, testing the threads of luck that had always seemed to weave their lives together. 

He wandered and found himself outside in a snow-filled, secluded garden, his eyes sweeping over the blooming chrysanthemums the queen had spoken of long ago and the carefully trimmed hedges. 

Until finally, he saw him.

Yeonjun stood beneath the gnarled branches of a tree covered in snow. 

He seemed taller than Beomgyu remembered, shoulders broader, but there was a weariness in his stance that made him falter. The prince’s robes seemed heavier on him although he admired the garden with such tenderness. The omega felt his chest tighten as he took in the sight of him, the cold air spiking his lungs.

It felt like it had been an eternity since he’d last seen the alpha, and although it was so cold, he felt warm inside just seeing him. 

The thoughts came to him unbidden, I love you, His mind shouted, every inch of his omega burning to reach out and hold, I love you, The prince’s skin, how smooth and soft it looked, the beauty mark under his eyes, the perfection of every angle within his face, I love you, he fought back every urge to say the words.

They burned in his throat, a fire that threatened to consume him. Beomgyu’s lips parted and he felt the rumbling within, the need to say everything he felt but then he stopped himself. By spring, Yeonjun will be king. A reminder that rang in his head, And by spring, he will no longer be yours.

He swallowed at the realization and instead opted for a safer option, calling out so dearly, 

“My prince.”

And then Yeonjun turned, his eyes narrowing as they landed on the omega. 

The tenderness he saw before hesitated and then disappeared. And there was a familiar, distant coldness. His eyes were shadowed and there was that exhaustion he had seen in the queen mirroring itself in her son. 

It was a look Beomgyu knew all too well, it was the look of someone carrying burdens too great to bear. 

“Beomgyu,” The prince breathed out, air visible in the cold, “What are you doing here? You aren’t allowed to be here.”

The way he spoke, almost devoid of joy, seemed to halt the hope Beomgyu had clung to, that the prince would have liked to see him. And suddenly he felt his throat dry, but he forced himself to speak.

“The queen summoned me,” he explained, "To tell me of the news.”

Yeonjun’s expression didn’t change. He only stared at the omega for a long moment as though the words hadn’t registered before nodding curtly.

“I’m sure you will do your new duty well,” he said dismissively.

Then he turned to walk away, his robes sweeping the ground, and Beomgyu felt something inside him familiarly snap. How could he be so nonchalant? So careless? He could feel the wetness of the snow seeping in his shoes, but the coldness felt warming in comparison to the tone of the prince.

The words burst from him quietly “Is that all you have to say, my prince?” 

And the alpha stopped in his tracks.

He didn’t turn around, but his shoulders tensed, and Beomgyu could feel the irritation radiating from him, from the hint of flared cinnamon and cedar. 

He felt himself shiver at the scent, hating how even its fury, it satisfied a sick part of him. It had been long since he had smelt the prince’s pheromones, and he hates that this was how he was exposed to it once more.

“What else would you want me to say?” Yeonjun’s voice was stone, each word deliberate,

“I told you this before—I do not have time to concern myself with unimportant things. Especially not now.”

Beomgyu flinched, the memory of their last conversation flooding back. 

The alpha had said those exact words when Beomgyu had confronted him, and had asked why he was being treated like he no longer mattered. And now, hearing them again, he felt the familiar sting of betrayal. 

It just wasn’t fair. 

It had never been fair, but the alpha made him believe it could be. Yeonjun had pulled him in, had asked for his trust, had told him he cared. Only to push him away without explanation, as though Beomgyu’s feelings were nothing more than a fleeting distraction

He thought from the night of the hot spring, as they sat there and bared their very body and soul, he thought then that this whole charade would be done with. But, no, he keeps finding himself being played in the alpha’s games. And the realization angered him.

His feet moved before he could stop himself, carrying him closer to Yeonjun. The prince turned to face him at the sound of snow shuffling and Beomgyu could smell his scent even more powerfully now. It made his head spin, his emotions intensifying until they threatened to overwhelm him.

“My prince,” Beomgyu begged, frustration seeping through his own scent of honey and orange. He saw how the elder’s eyes dilated in the presence of it. 

He continued, “Please, do not push me away like this. I am…” He paused, heart pounding in his chest,

“I am yours. I am here for you to lean on, for you to rely on. Especially now, when you need it the most.”

And then there was only silence, save for the chirp of the garden and howl of the wind. And he saw how the prince processed each word, conflicted and just as equally frustrated.

But then Yeonjun's eyes blazed with a fury that pained his heart and he subconsciously took a step back. He spat with a chuckle devoid of humor, 

“Oh really? I am surprised you are not happy with this situation, knowing I will be king and by spring you will be free. It is the only reason you even put up with me.”

The words hit the omega like a blow. He hadn’t even thought of that, of the promise they had made so long ago. 

“My prince, how could you say that?” he scoffed in disbelief, “I would not dare to think of that now—I do not care for that. I care for you, and trust when I say I know what all of this feels like.”

Yeonjun’s expression soured, lips curling into a sneer,  “Do not say such things to me. How would someone like you know what I am feeling?”

Beomgyu opened his mouth to respond since he obviously knew how the prince felt. Just a few minutes away lay his own sick mother, bedridden and incurable. He knows of illness and its tragedy, and even more, he knows what it is like to be burdened by titles you cannot control.

But the alpha didn’t give him the chance to speak, 

“For a bastard with no loving family,” he continued, voice dripping with venom, “how would you know what this feels like, huh?”

And the words cut through him like a dagger, piercing through Beomgyu’s chest and leaving him breathless. His mind went black as he felt his heart shatter, the pieces falling into the abyss of his wounds and insecurities.

Ones that he had trusted Yeonjun with, and that the prince was now using against him. 

Beomgyu tried to rationalize it. He reminded himself that the alpha was hurting, that he was lashing out in his pain from everything going on, 

“You…you do not mean that, my prince.” 

Then he reached out, his hand trembling as he tried to hold the alpha in an attempt to bring him back to reality, but the action only seemed to fuel the fire in the man,

“Do not touch me!” Yeonjun snarled and smacked his hand away with a force that echoed through the garden. 

The sound was sharp, final, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then the prince’s expression dropped, the anger fading as realization dawned on what he just did. Yeonjun felt his ears ring as he settled back into a clear head.

The alpha then reached out, voice softening into pure guilt,  “Beomgyu, I…I did not—”

But the omega only stepped back at the gesture while clutching his reddened hand to his chest. The icy air nipped at his pulsing and burning skin where Yeonjun had struck him, but the pain was nothing compared to the one he felt in his heart. 

He looked up, his vision blurred by tears, and Yeonjun’s face fell as he saw the hot tears streaming down his sullen face. And the unmistakable scent of rotten honey and orange filled the air, and it smelled bitter and sorrowful.

“You once told me,” Beomgyu spoke in a seething whisper, but it was not out of anger. It was out of pure sadness,

“That you hated how I could not understand my own worth. That it angered you. And yet you say such words to me…you do not even believe I have worth, just like the others.”

Regret washed over the alpha like a wave, “No, no. That is not true, I’m sorry—I did not mean a single thing I said,” and he knew he had no excuse, “Please, let me— ”

But Beomgyu shook his head, cutting him off. He could smell the guilt in the alpha’s scent, could see the hurt in his eyes, but it was too late. The alpha had not sought him out, had not thought of him in the way Beomgyu had thought of him. Not once.  

And all the words he had said to him so tenderly before suddenly felt useless. And the realization was devastating, a pain so deep it threatened to consume him. If Yeonjun chose to cut him off, then so be it. He will no longer run to him.

“I am no longer your servant,” Beomgyu bowed his head and he watched how his tears dripped onto the snow,

“I am the caretaker for the king now. And you have made it clear that you do not need me.”

He looked up, meeting Yeonjun’s eyes one last time. He reached towards the ruby pendant on his neck, yanking it off and letting it drop in the thick snow. And he saw how the prince watched the necklace fall, eyes widening at the gesture. 

Then the words, heavy and final, escaped as his own breath was visible in the cold air, “Farewell, Your Majesty.”

The title rang loud, a goodbye to the intimacy of “my prince.” It was a line drawn and as Beomgyu turned and walked away, he felt the sadness settle over him like a shroud. And Yeonjun did not follow him. Not that he expected it, but a part of him wished the prince did, however selfish that wish may be. 

But no, he walked back in silence, the only sound was the soft rustle of leaves in the wind, and he was afraid that nothing would ever be the same.

———

Two days passed. 

And in those two days, Beomgyu felt something he hadn’t felt in a while— hopelessness.

Hopelessness in its most purest form. 

Where life no longer seems real, where moments pass by seamlessly and you cannot recall what happened, where any faiths or dreams you had instilled within you die. He knew that by spring, he would at least be free. But even the thought of freedom, of something that he always wished for, did not spare him from this feeling of hopelessness.

For this feeling was rooted in something far more naive, for more vulnerable.

It was a flower bud within, attached to his very core.

Everytime he closed his eyes, he could see it. See the moment Yeonjun smacked him away, with such repulse in his face, and then guilt that followed. And in that moment, the bud within shriveled up. Flowers gardened from newfound care, a newfound hope were meant to bloom from that bud. Ones blooming of love, albeit an impossible one. 

But instead, ones of pure hopelessness bloomed instead.

And it hurt to live with them, wilting and fading. 

Each morning, he would go to the queen’s quarters, and then to the king’s current caretakers and personal physicians, to learn of his new role. And as they spoke to him and taught him of his responsibilities, he couldn’t feel anything but the pain of his own hopelessness within. Just a few weeks ago, he had been steady and life had been peaceful. 

And now, life felt unfamiliar and beneath that hopelessness laid fear. 

Because despite the words the alpha had told him, despite the way he treated him, the roots of the flower were still made from a love he could never bury truly. A love that still rang true in his ears. And the hopelessness did nothing but shroud it. Truth was, he still loves Yeonjun and he still feared the future that was to come for both of them. 

The third day came, and Beomgyu found himself standing before the doors of the king’s chambers.

He was meeting King Hyunseok for the first time since he fell sick.

A deep breath filled his lungs as he readied himself. He was no stranger to sickness. He knew of the way grief and worry consuled the mind. He knew what it was to watch someone fade away, to see their body sink further into the bedding, as if the earth itself were already calling them home.

But the man beyond these doors was not just anyone.

King Hyunseok had always been a formidable figure in his life, a presence that had shaped him in more ways than one. He had a complex relationship with the king, but despite the history between them, Beomgyu had always known that the king had been watching over him in his own way.

He had last seen him at the dinner. The king had been strong then and healthy as ever. At Yeonjun’s birthday feast, he remembers watching the way he spoke with other nobles, drank with his sons, ruling like a king should. And now, that same man lay in his chambers, reduced to weakness.

The thought alone saddened him. With a quiet inhale, he stepped forward. The guards before the door bowed their heads in silent acknowledgment before pushing the doors open, and Beomgyu stepped inside.

The first thing he noticed was the stillness.

It was not the same stillness that accompanied his own sleepless nights in the palace.  No, this was the stillness of a room that had been accumulated by the presence of death itself. A brazier burned in the corner, filling the space with the scent of medicinal herbs and incense. It was a scent that smelled far too familiar of the infirmary where his mother lay at. 

And it was a scent made to mask the unmistakable one of sickness that clung to the man. 

He heard the faint sound of shifting silk accompanied the Queen Eunyoung’s movements as she sat by the bedside, carefully spooning a light broth into the king’s lips. The king had just woken, it seemed.

Beomgyu’s eyes drifted as he took in the figures within the room. To the side, a few caretakers stood in quiet attendance, their eyes trained downward.

And then Queen Eunyoung, near the bedside and caring for her husband; Prince Royal Soobin, standing by the wall; old man Junsu, right beside a small table, his presence oddly steady, most likely due to his role as the head physician.

And then— Yeonjun.

His breath caught, body stiffening.

Yeonjun stood at the far end of the room, dressed in his winter robes, though it was clear he had not changed in some time. His hands were clasped behind his back and eyes lost in thoughts. Beomgyu looked away the second he caught the alpha beginning to look up. And opted to bow deeply, keeping his eyes low. 

He did not dare to look at Yeonjun directly, not anymore.

Then the queen lifted her head at his arrival and when she saw him, a warmth appeared within her face,

“Come, Beomgyu,” she beckoned, “Come greet His Majesty.”

He stepped forward, his feet felt heavy but he allowed himself to kneel beside the bed, bowing deeply before the alpha before him.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted as softly as he could, “It is an honor to serve you.”

A moment of silence then slowly the king shifted. His eyes, once sharp and attentive, found Beomgyu’s own, and in that moment, something softened. Recognition perhaps, and his scent, a grounding patchouli and maple, wafted through the air but still distinctly him. 

It was oddly gentle, in a way he had never been with the king.

“Ah,” King Hyunseok’s voice came hoarsely, “Beomgyu-ah.”

He felt himself freeze at the way the alpha said his name, in a way that seemed almost paternal and caring. He straightened, bowing deeply once more.

“I remember,” the king continued, breath ragged and careful, “Hyejung’s son.”

A pause then in a voice filled with a distant fondness, “A healthy omega. A beautiful, healthy baby.”

And Beomgyu did not know how to respond. Nor did anyone else in the room, he could feel how everyone sort of tensed the words. Queen Eunyoung seemed briefly taken aback by the words, but she recovered quickly with a smile on her lips. 

“Yes, my love,” she murmured, smoothing a hand over his arm, “Our beautiful Beomgyu. He will be by your side more often now.”

The words sent a strange, unfamiliar warmth curling in his chest, but he did not dare linger on them.

The king exhaled a breath, his lips curling faintly, muttering,  “Good, good, a baby to take care of.” His tired gaze drifted, unfocused, “I promised I would take care of him, remember?”

Beomgyu stilled and the room fell silent for a brief moment. 

He had been warned of this— of the way the king’s mind slipped between past and present, of how his memories no longer held a clear sense of time. The caretakers had told him the day before and had spoken of how the illness had stolen from him not just his strength, but his very sense of reality.

Still, hearing the delirium first hand made something heavy settle in Beomgyu’s chest. This was not the same king he had once feared, the king who had stood as a pillar of strength. No, this man before him was someone he did not know.

The queen only hummed at the words and moved on, continuing to feed him the last spoonfuls of his broth. Then he felt the burn of a gaze on him, heavy, making him overtly aware. He knew it was Yeonjun. 

And he refused to look up.

He kept his hands pressed to his thighs, his eyes lowered and focusing on the slow rhythm of his own breath. He knew that if he looked up and even met eyes with the alpha, he would cry.

And he had not cried—not once since that day, and he would not start now. Even as he felt the sting in his hand, the dullness in his chest, he refused to lift his eyes. He would not break.

The queen set the empty bowl aside, dabbing a damp cloth against the king’s lips, and with a small nod, Junsu stepped forward. He held a small vial in his palm, perhaps a sleeping remedy.

“Let us leave the king to rest,” Junsu murmured, “He will need it.”

The caretakers stepped forward, adjusting the king’s position, ensuring he was as comfortable as possible. Beomgyu closed his eyes for a brief second, and as he stepped back, readying himself to leave, he made a silent vow.

He would care for the king. He would do his duty. And he would not let himself look back.

After a few minutes, the king lay resting, his breath shallow but steady, the rise and fall of his chest the only sign that time had not stolen him just yet. The remedy kicked in soon and he was fast asleep.

Junsu then spoke up, in a tone that was solemn, "I have something I must speak to you four about. Urgently."

He watched how Queen Eunyoung and her sons stilled. Beomgyu saw how her fingers trembled, just barely, as she set aside the cloth she had been using to dab at the king’s lips. She turned and with a mere look, every servant in the room hurriedly bowed and exited.

Once the doors shut behind them, Junsu exhaled,  "Let us speak over here," he said, glancing at the sleeping king,  "He must not hear us while he rests."

Beomgyu followed as they moved toward the hearth, its heat doing little to ease the chill settling in his bones. He took a seat near the queen, his hands curled against his lap. Soobin and Yeonjun sat silently beside him, and everyone awaited whatever revelation Junsu was about to deliver.

Soobin spoke first, "What might it be, Junsu? Any cure for my father?"

The old man shook his head, "No, Your Majesty. I do not believe this is any ordinary sickness."

The silence that followed was suffocating. The queen’s fingers curled in the fabric of her robes, "What do you mean?" she asked, though Beomgyu could already hear the fear laced beneath her words.

Junsu’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, 

"I have been monitoring him daily, keeping careful note of his condition and symptoms. And in all my years of tending to the sick, I have never encountered an ailment quite like this." He exhaled deeply, 

"I fear this is not natural at all."

The queen’s gasped and the implication of the words echoed throughout. Beomgyu could smell the sharp spike of scents in the room, a mixture of wood and spice, curling into the air and suddenly he felt overwhelmed by it all.

"You do not mean to tell me—" she whispered, her voice nearly breaking.

Junsu lowered his head, "I am afraid so, Your Majesty. The king has been poisoned."

The words struck like a thunderclap. Beomgyu’s stomach twisted violently. He felt the bile rise in his throat, his vision blurring as the weight of those words settled over them all. His ears rang, drowning out the crackling of the fire and the scents of those around him.

Poison.

Someone had poisoned the king.

The queen let out a trembling breath, covering her mouth with one delicate hand as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Soobin stiffened, his usual composure wavering just slightly. Beomgyu swallowed, trying to focus, trying to think through the sheer impossibility of it all.

But Yeonjun—

Yeonjun was deathly still.

His hands curled into fists against his sodes, his entire body wound so tight Beomgyu thought he might snap. It was the alpha who spoke next too, his voice dangerously quiet, 

"What you mean to say, Junsu, is that this poison is not of our land."

And the beta nodded grimly, "I have tested for every known toxin from our soil. This is something... advanced. Something beyond our reach."

The words were horrifying as everyone realized that if the toxin was not something within reach, then an antidote was even less likely. Something overseas, something foreign. And suddenly, he felt his mind reeling back, grasping for something, anything that might explain—then it hit him.

A memory. A conversation he had before he left for the hunt. The words tumbled from his lips before he could think. "Minister Daeho."

Three heads snapped toward him. Prince Soobin furrowed his brow,  "Minister Daeho? You mean the Royal Council member?"

Beomgyu swallowed heavily, "Yes, I—I ran into him just days before we left for the hunt. He spoke to me of loyalty, of how... fickle royalty can be." His voice trembled slightly, "And if I recall correctly, does he not control several important trade routes?"

The silence following was deafening. He knew what the words meant, that they were somewhat an underlying accusation. So, in fear, he then spoke out, 

“Not to say he had anything to do with it, but he does have knowledge of foreign—”

But Yeonjun interrupted him, shutting him up as the prince’s scent flared sharp and bitter, "No, you are right." He straightened, his fingers digging into the arms of his chair,

"I saw Minister Daeho here not long before my father fell ill. I remember wondering why he was even there. That sick beta has always been a suspicious one, especially with all his demands."

The queen exhaled, wiping at her damp lashes, "If he was involved, we must not speak a word of it aloud. His reach is vast. He has connections everywhere."

She turned to the alpha prince, a resolve settling over her features,

”Our first stop is the north. When we reach my House of Kang, we will speak to my brother, Lord Eunseok. He has eyes and ears in places we do not. If there is anyone who can uncover any truth, it is him."

Soobin then interjected, "But Beomgyu has a point. If Minister Daeho is involved, he may very well be our best source of information regarding foreign toxins. If we do not ask him, then who?"

The queen pursed her lips, deep in thought. Then her eyes lit with realization, 

"I have an old friend from the West," she murmured, "Duke Nabil Huening, a family of scholars. They would know of such things, of what might be traded across borders."

Beomgyu recalls the name, a blurred memory of a noble family that intermingled both the east and the west, one whose ties to the House of Kang had always been strong. They had visited too long ago, but the faces are not clear in his mind. 

And in the corner of the room, he saw how Soobin froze at the mention of them. There must be some sort of history he does not know. 

But Yeonjun shook his head, "No, Mother. Do not send word to Duke Nabil. Send it to his son."

"Lord Huening Kai?" 

And that name in particular is familiar.

He has seen it before on some of Yeonjun’s personal letters, a good friend of his he thinks. The only alpha and eldest son of Duke Nabil Huening, and he has two sisters, both omegas. He slowly remembers who these people are, of some distant times in the past when they would come and visit.

"He is in China at present," The alpha explained, "It would be faster, and it would draw less attention. He could maybe even come and stay in the palace, if needed."

The queen processed the words for a second before nodding and straightening her posture, "Then it is settled."

"And I will continue my research here.” Junsu added, assuring them of his role as a physician,

“I hope to find something soon, at the very least something to slow its effects. Everything I have tried has done little to ease his condition."

The queen’s expression softened, "Do not despair, Junsu. We leave tomorrow, and all we can do now is remain patient. But I trust time will prevail."

The fire crackled between them, its heat doing nothing to chase away the bitter chill of the truth. Someone had poisoned the king, and it was up to them to figure out who it could have been.

Shortly after, they all parted their ways. 

There was much to be done as months of travel loomed on two of them, and other responsibilities called the others. As they stepped outside, the coldness of the palace halls greeted them. 

Queen Eunyoung walked ahead and she did not falter. Beomgyu could see it in her—a determination lit within her, a resolve to find who did this to her husband, to the man she loved deeply. She would write her letters, would summon her allies, would do everything within her power to grasp control over the chaos.

Beomgyu, too, turned to leave, his pulse steady but his mind anything but. 

He did not look towards the front of him, towards the princes. He had not looked at Yeonjun directly, not once. He had felt the alpha’s presence, but he had resisted the urge to seek him out or to speak to him once. Yeonjun did not deserve his words or attention, not anymore. Even if his omega still called for him, still loved him, he would not do anything.

But then just as he began to walk the way out of these quarters, he heard echoing against the walls—

"Beomgyu."

The sound of his name was said barely above a murmur, and yet it struck him. He felt his body tense as he knew that voice too well, knew the way it curled at the edges, the weight it carried, the way it always had the power to undo him.

For a moment, he considered pretending he had not heard it. 

But he could feel Prince Soobin’s gaze on him and could feel the watchful presence of the guards standing nearby. He had no choice but to do his duty as a servant, and show respect.

Swallowing past the tightness in his throat, he turned and bowed, "Your Majesty."

Yeonjun was now watching him intently, he could feel that gaze burn into him more so than others. Then the alpha took a step forward, and Beomgyu forced himself to keep his face impassive, his shoulders square.

"I need to speak with you," The prince spoke with such urgency.

But Beomgyu did not answer immediately. He kept his head lowered, kept his breathing steady.

"I must prepare my things," he replied, "I am to move to the southern wing to tend to His Highness."

"I will send someone to do that for you," Yeonjun shot back, tone brooking no argument,"I just— I need a moment of your time, Beomgyu."

And the ache in his chest deepened, the steady rhythm of his pulse turning erratic. 

He did not want this. He did not want to be alone with him, did not want to hear whatever it was Yeonjun felt so compelled to say.

Not when the alpha was to leave the next day, and not be back for months. Not when he spoke to him so harshly, hitting him without thought. Not when he was sick and tired of being strung along, believing in a false hope that led him blindly.

Bowing again, the omega replied, "I apologize, Your Majesty, but I must prepare for my new duties. There is much to be done."

He turned quickly, eager to escape, eager to put as much distance between them as possible. But before he could take another step, he felt a hand closed around his wrist. The warmth of it, the sheer familiarity of the touch sent a shiver through his body. 

It was a plea, a physical one, to keep him from going. To make him stay. And the irony of it all made him sick.

Beomgyu reacted before he could think. His body twisted, his free hand shooting out, shoving Yeonjun away with more force than he intended. The moment was over in an instant, but the damage had already been done. 

And before he could even process what he had just done, two guards lunged, hands grabbing him, yanking him back before slamming him into the wooden wall. The impact stole the breath from his lungs, pain blooming across his chest, and before he could even process it, strong arms pinned him down, their bodies crushing him.

The sound that escaped him was automatic, a soft, involuntary whimper, humiliating in its fragility. 

And he could smell the air intensify, in the corner of his eyes he could see Prince Soobin take a step forward, eyes shooting between him and his brother with a worry in his eyes.

And then he felt their bodies off of him, the sound of guards pummeling to the floor, accompanied with that voice snarl, one that was low and lethal, "Do not touch him."

The guards, who were thrown to the floor, startled by the venom in the prince’s tone, stood and apologized with hurried bows. Yeonjun’s jaw was tight, his body rigid with barely restrained fury.

His scent that was usually warm and rich now smelt rotten, sharp and darkened with something dangerously close to rage, 

"Leave us. Now." The command was absolute and the guards did not hesitate before bowing once more and retreating. 

Still, the tension remained and the silence that poured down on them was mutilating and Soobin was the first to break the silence.

"Hyung," he said carefully, stepping forward. His voice was even, diplomatic, but there was something knowing in his expression, "Perhaps it is best we let this be for now."

But the crown prince did not move. Beomgyu pressed a hand against his chest, wincing at the dull ache that lingered from the impact. His breathing was uneven, unsteady, but he could feel the heat of Yeonjun’s eyes on him, watching and waiting. 

And for the first time since he had entered the king’s chambers, he met the gaze.

A mistake.

Because the second he did—everything broke. Something inside of him collapsed, everything he had been holding in finally cracking at the seams. The hollowness in his chest, the unbearable longing, the devastation of not understanding the person before him, it all surged at once.

He felt his vision blurr as tears threatened to fall, but he bit his lip so hard that they started to bleed. He refused to let them out, refused to cry again in front of the alpha. But it was hard to hide the pure pain in his honey and orange scent.

Yeonjun’s expression changed instantly in the presence of it. The anger bled away, replaced by something raw, something stricken and wounded. He stepped forward, reaching out, fingertips brushing the air between them, "Beomgyu—"

But he couldn’t help but flinch at the movement. 

He did not want to feel his touch, he could not feel it. For if he felt it just once more, he knew that would be the end of him. The hopelessness in his chest grew, and he wanted to escape. 

A realization came tumbling down upon thinking of how simply laying his hands on the alpha, he was sent pummeling into the wall, seconds away from being punished. Yet if the prince had done the same to him, the guards would not have done a single thing. 

The power Yeonjun carries in the simple wave of his hand is light years away from any ounce of control Beomgyu has, for the alpha is a prince, destined for greater things and the ability to shape the world around him with nothing but his name. 

Beomgyu, in contrast, was nothing more than an ant in the corridors of power. A mere whisper of dissent from his lips could lead to his death, while Yeonjun’s every command bent the will of others without question.

It was devastating, this imbalance, this unchangeable truth. For years, he had known it. Had accepted it. Had lived within it. And yet now, standing here, trembling from the lingering force of the guards' hands, the truth of everything hurt.

Because Yeonjun had reached for him, had spoken his name as if it held weight. Because Yeonjun had made him believe he too was of importance before and then quickly shattered that same belief in the span of a month. 

And it was cruel.

Cruel, to give him the taste of something he could never have. 

Cruel, to make him feel as if he was anything other than insignificant. 

But then again, Yeonjin is crown prince. He has the power to do this and to be allowed this sort of control. And as a prince, he owes a servant like him nothing.

He took a step back, mind screaming at him to run before he could let himself break any further. But the moment his foot shifted, Yeonjun spoke again with pure worry,

"Beomgyu, please, just allow me to—"

He turned away. He could not endure this. One more word, one more moment in Yeonjun’s presence, and he knew, he knew, he would truly break. Because despite how cruel the prince has been to him, he could not help the way he also still loved him.

And he also knew that falling in love with the future king was a death sentence all on its own. 

So then he cried out, voice barely above a whisper, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

It was now his own plea. A quiet, aching thing. And the silence that followed was unbearable. Yeonjun looked as if Beomgyu had stabbed him, the words landing like a blade to the chest.

"You’re good at that, aren’t you, Your Majesty? You owe me nothing, so just leave." Beomgyu continued in a whisper, lips trembling as he exhaled. 

The words rang out into the stillness and the alpha froze at the words. And from the corner of his eye, he saw Soobin tense as well, lips parting as if to speak, as if to remind him who he was speaking to, who stood before him.

But the crown prince silenced him with a wave of his hand.

For a long, painful moment, he simply stared at Beomgyu, throat working, jaw tight. And then, at last, he spoke,

"Let us go, brother," Yeonjun stated strained, tired, "We have other matters to prepare for."

Beomgyu watched as he turned, watched as he walked away. The ache in his chest deepened, spreading through his ribs like something incurable. And when the last traces of Yeonjun’s scent faded into the air, he was left with nothing but silence.

Nothing but the crushing remnants of his own despair.

———

The following morning, days before December came to an end, Crown Prince Yeonjun and Queen Eunyoung left.

And Beomgyu did not bid them farewell.

As the two left, the entirety of Hanyang and soon enough, the entire peninsula, would be jubilant in the beginning of a new ascension to the throne. But Beomgyu did not celebrate. He could not. Instead, he spent the morning within the quiet walls of the Palace of the Monarch, far away from the sight of the departing procession. 

He busied himself with his newfound duties, and before he knew it, the new year came and passed.

The entire capital had erupted in celebration despite the snow that fell through, Hanyang alive for the first time in a while. The streets were filled with music and dancing, with the scent of food and the warmth of fires. Even within the palace walls, those remaining hosted modest festivities.

But for Beomgyu, the new year arrived in silence.

There were no lanterns, no laughter, no sense of renewal. Only the candlelight of the king’s chambers and the quiet hum of his own breathing as he sat beside the monarch’s bedside, carefully dabbing a damp cloth along his fevered brow.

January rolled in with the same coldness of the month before, even worse perhaps.

And this had become his life now.

Day and night, he was there. Tending to the king’s every need, ensuring that every medicine was given at the right time, that the pain-relieving salves were applied properly, that the warmth of the bedding was just right to keep the chills at bay.

He learned quickly, quicker than he thought possible.

“You have a sharp mind for this,” Junsu had told him one morning, watching as Beomgyu measured out the herbs for a medicinal tea,

“Most take years to grasp even the simplest mixtures, but you pick it up like a born physician.”

Beomgyu had only bowed his head in response, focused on crushing the dried roots into a fine powder. It was easier this way, easier to busy his hands and to lose himself in the methodical tasks than to think too much.

Junsu chuckled at his lack of response, leaning back as he observed him. “Perhaps in another life, you would have been a healer rather than a servant.”

The words made something tighten in Beomgyu’s chest. A different life, a different fate. Would that life have been kinder?

He shook the thought away and finished the mixture, pouring the tea into a ceramic cup,

“If I were a healer, I would be failing, wouldn’t I?” he muttered, “Because nothing we do seems to be helping him.”

Junsu’s expression turned somber, “Some things are beyond our reach, my boy.”

And the omega said nothing, only swallowed down the bitterness curling on his tongue. But even if the king’s condition did not improve, even if his presence could not heal him, Beomgyu still remained by his side.

He had never seen King Hyunseok like this before. 

The king had been so powerful in his memories, and now all of that vitality was gone. His frame, once unyielding, had become frail, body reduced to something small beneath the heavy silk blankets. Yet, despite the illness stripping him of his power, there was a certain warmth in him now that Beomgyu had never known before.

“Ah, my boy,” the king rasped one morning, his voice rough as Beomgyu helped him drink his medicine, “You have my Eunyoung’s kindness.”

Beomgyu felt himself redden at that, a compliment from the king, “I am not sure of that, Your Majesty.”

The king let out a chuckle, shaking his head, “No, you are. She has always watched over you, you know. Even when you were small.” 

His tired eyes held something distant, as if he were recalling a memory long buried in time, “You were always a nice little boy, yes.”

The omega felt his throat tighten.

The memories of his childhood were vivid, filled with shadows of loneliness and the overbearing presence of his mother. But there had been some light, faint, fleeting moments of warmth, of gentle hands fixing his hair, of laughter he had never been allowed to keep. 

The queen had been kind to him more so than anyone else, and the king had not been that way. But now as he cared for him, the king was kinder than ever.

Beomgyu did not know how to respond, so he only offered the cup again, “You should drink more, Your Majesty.”

The king looked at him for a long moment before sighing and taking another slow sip.

And so, the days went on.

Beomgyu learned the rhythm of the king’s condition too. When his fevers would spike, when his breathing would grow heavy, when the pain in his bones became too unbearable to move. He learned which herbs helped, which ones did not, which ones merely delayed the symptoms.

He learned to move quietly through the halls, to speak softly even when his heart was screaming. He learned how to exist in a life that was no longer his own. And still, through it all, he did not allow himself to think of Yeonjun. 

Well not for long periods, at least.

The last time he saw Yeonjun, there had been nothing but the weight of their own frustration pressing against them. And Beomgyu had refused him. He had ended it. He had drawn the line between them once and for all.

And now Yeonjun was gone, away from his reach, and by spring, he would be king. 

And Beomgyu, he would be free.

But when he thought of it, thought of the life waiting beyond the reign of the crown prince, all he felt was a crushing emptiness. He had spent years thinking of freedom. Longing for it, dreaming of the day he could leave these walls behind. And yet now, the idea of stepping into a world where Yeonjun did not exist beside him, felt inconceivable.

Should I have heard him out?  The question gnawed at him quietly in the back of his mind. Every time he recalled the look in Yeonjun’s eyes, the way he called his name, a desperate plea in the way he had reached for him—it made him falter.

But then he would remember the way his heart had shattered at Yeonjun’s words.

The way the prince had ignored him for a little over two weeks. The way he so cruelly slapped him away. The way his body had ached from being shoved against the wall. The way his love had felt like a chain wrapped tight around his throat, choking him with no escape.

No, it was better this way. He would remind himself. It was better to lose Yeonjun now, to let go before he was forced to watch him ascend to the throne and become untouchable. Before he was forced to stand in the shadows and pretend that his heart did not belong to him.

Better to sever this thread before it strangled him completely. And yet, no matter how much he repeated it, the pain did not subside. At night, when the palace was silent and he was alone in his chambers, the ache of it consumed him whole. His body curled into itself, his fingers gripping at the fabric of his sheets, and he would try so desperately to push it away.

But the love remained; silent, cruel, relentless.

And so as the days passed by, Beomgyu only did what he knew best and buried himself in his own responsibilities, in an attempt to distract his mind. 

Because if he didn’t, if he let even a sliver of those memories and feelings slip through, he feared he would crumble completely.

———

January dragged on in an unending haze of snow and winter winds.

The days blurred into one another, his routine set in stone. Wake before the sun, tend to the king, sit with Junsu and memorize the bitter taste of medicinal herbs on his tongue. It was a quiet life, a stable one, and yet, he could not call it peaceful. Not when there was always something lingering at the edges of his thoughts.

But something unexpected happened.

Prince Royal Soobin was often by his father’s side. Beomgyu had known this and had expected it even, but what he had not expected was how often he would find himself talking to him. 

Ever since the incident of his heat, he had kept his distance from the alpha just out of pure embarrassment. He had apologized for it and the prince did not really seem to care for any of it, so he would have thought their non-existent relationship would end at that.

But it seems the forced proximity sort of caused them to speak to each other more.

Even more, the incident outside the king’s chambers when he last saw the crown prince, where Soobin watched the whole parade, created this awkward atmosphere between the two.  But as time passed and they saw each other more, the atmosphere got a tad more comfortable.

At first, it had been only brief exchanges such as Prince Soobin asking about the king’s condition and Beomgyu answering with formality. But then the conversations stretched longer and turned into casual ones. And the most unexpected thing was that Prince Soobin was much different than he had thought.

He had always known the second prince to be reserved. Unlike Yeonjun, who commanded a room the moment he stepped in, Soobin was more gentle and subdued. He had always carried an air of intelligence and proper nobility.

In his memories, the alpha had always been in the back, quiet and timid. Always keeping to himself and as they grew older, the prince became famed for this almost mysterious yet kind demeanor of his. 

But what Beomgyu had not realized was that Soobin also had a sense of humor.

It started one evening when the omega had helped the king lay down for a rest and was cleaning up the surroundings, when the alpha, leaning casually against the nearby table, let out a huff.

“Beomgyu, I must ask, do you always look this miserable or is that just your face?”

And he nearly choked on air. He turned, brows furrowing and was met with Soobin’s perfectly neutral expression besides the slight quirk of his lips.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty?” He could not help the words that came out. 

From anyone else, he would have taken it as them trying to be rude or get on his nerves, but the prince spoke with such calamity that it shocked him. 

Soobin tilted his head, looking every bit like he was contemplating something serious, “You frown more than my mother does when the ministers speak.”

He had to bite back the chuckle that threatened to escape, but he bit his tongue, “No, I am just a bit tired, Your Majesty.”

“So am I.” The alpha shrugged, “But you don’t see me looking as if I’m carrying the weight of the entire nation on my back.”

This time the omega couldn’t help but give him a flat look, “Are you not literally carrying the weight of an entire nation on your back, Your Majesty.”

The alpha blinked, then much to Beomgyu’s horror, he grinned amusedly, “Fair point.”

The moment caught him off guard. The prince royal was… teasing him?

The omega shook his head, turning back to his task and then realized just how casually he spoke to him, and turned around with an apology, “I apologize, I should not have spoken so informally—”

“No, I prefer it.”

Beomgyu opened his mouth to say something, anything to rebuttal but the prince had already turned away, busying himself with adjusting the folds of his father’s blankets. And just like that, a connection passed between them.

Each day, there was something new. Little comments, little remarks that chipped away at the distance that once lay between them. They were never anything too bold, too improper, but they were… comforting.  In a very odd way.

“Have you always been this pale, or is it the winter?” 

And he would respond, “I do not recall you ever being so talkative, Your Majesty.”

“I do not recall you ever smiling, Beomgyu.” 

One evening, when the omega, half-asleep, nearly tripped over the corner of a rug, Soobin, with all the seriousness of a prince raised in etiquette and diplomacy, simply laughed and said, “Graceful.”

Beomgyu had gaped at him, and Soobin had only turned away to sip his tea as if he had not just made fun of him. The absurdity of it all made something light settle in his chest. It was soothing— having someone to talk to. Someone who did not look at him with pity, or expectation, or something burdensome.

It was easy banter and he enjoyed it. They got closer as the days went by, prince would sometimes physically tease him too. Tugging on his hair, hiding his books and scrolls, or asking endless questions. Although annoying at times, it distracted him from all the troubles in his mind. And he realized that Soobin was doing this to warm their cold and small environment. 

He was never able to talk to Yeonjun in the way he did with his brother. The dynamic he had withe the crown prince was much more heavy and complicated, filled with things neither of them could ever express. But he and Soobin had none of that, they had no past whatsoever and the simplicity of it was like a breath of fresh air.  

And without realizing it, he began to look forward to seeing the prince royal.

Currently, they were out walking after having lunch together, and tending to the king. 

The sky was a pale blue and the air wrapped around Beomgyu’s skin as he walked. The stone paths of the palace grounds were cleared of most snow, save for the corners where ice clung stubbornly to the earth, refusing to be melted away by the weak winter sun.

Beside him, Prince Royal Soobin walked with his hands neatly folded behind his back. Their conversations were never of much importance or anything that required deep thought. Today, the prince had been complaining about his winter robes.

“They are as impractical as they are heavy,” Soobin sighed dramatically, “I had three tailors fit them to me, and yet every time I wear them I feel as if I am suffocating beneath the weight of all that silk.”

Beomgyu let out a small laugh, surprising even himself. He wished he could have that issue, his winter robes were outdated and he could not afford to have them tailored.

“You are the prince royal,” he teased, glancing at him from the corner of his eye, “Should your robes not reflect the height of your status?”

The alpha tilted his head as if considering his words, “But if that is the case, I should prefer them to be even heavier.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes at the jest, nudging a small stone along the path with the tip of his shoe. It was just nice to just talk about nothing important. Though they had never been close before, Soobin had a peace about him that he enjoyed.

Perhaps that was why he had found himself comfortable in the prince’s company.

Perhaps that was why, in recent weeks, it was something that made his day.

And perhaps that was why, when the royal courier appeared at the end of the walkway, Beomgyu didn’t expect the unease that would crawl up his spine.

The man approached swiftly, the brown of his uniform well-kept. The alpha was already straightening his posture, though he did not seem surprised by the arrival. Beomgyu, on the other hand, felt a familiar tightness wind its way into his chest.

“Your Highness,” the courier greeted first, bowing deeply before turning to Beomgyu and offering the same courtesy, though this time, with an added weight in his voice.

“Beomgyu-nim.”

The title made him blink. 

He was never addressed with such formality by the palace messengers. He did not have time to dwell on it before the courier produced two scrolls, one in each hand. The first, he handed it to Soobin, who took it without hesitation.

But the second, he extended towards Beomgyu. He could see the seal on the prince’s scroll, it was the seal of Queen Eunyoung.  Perhaps she had written to both of them, and so he looked down at his and when he did, he felt himself hesitate.

The omega’s fingers curled around the parchment before he even looked at the seal, but when he did, his breath caught in his throat. The wax was bright gold, the imprint pressed into it unmistakable. It was not the queen's seal, it was his.

The seal of the Crown Prince, the seal of Yeonjun.

For a moment, he simply stared. A chill swept over him, though the wind had not stirred. The courier bowed once more, “His Highness instructed that this be given directly to you. He ensured it himself.”

Beomgyu’s grip tightened, fingers pressing into the parchment. 

Why? The question burned in his mind, loud, relentless. After everything, after the way they had left things, after the words that had torn through him, after the nights spent trying to push Yeonjun out of his mind, why now? Why, in the middle of January, weeks after they had parted?

He wanted to open it. Needed to. His hands twitched, already reaching to break the seal—but then, Soobin’s hand was on his wrist, stopping him.

The omega blinked, startled by the sudden touch, and lifted his gaze to the prince royal. Soobin was staring at him but it it was not the action itself that made Beomgyu falter. It was the look in his eyes, knowing and discreet.

He swallowed, “Why?” He voiced the one word that plagued his mind, but he knew the prince understood what he meant.

Why stop him from reading it now? What do you know about the reason why the crown prince might have written?

Soobin exhaled, “Open it on your own time. My brother does not send letters like this often, so it may be…important.”

Later that night, in the silence of his own chambers, he sat and stared at the scroll. 

It loomed on the small, wooden desk. 

The candle nearby illuminated the golden wax seal. His fingers hovered over it, hesitant to even touch it. It was foolish how his hands trembled. How his breath felt too uneven, his heartbeat too loud in his ears.

It was just a letter and yet, he could not bring himself to open it. He feared its contents though it could just only be nothing more than questions about the king’s health. And yet a part of him, the part he tried to drown beneath duty, beneath reason, knew it was something more.

He had not prepared himself for this. For the possibility that despite all that had happened, despite the distance of miles upon miles between them, Yeonjun would still find a way to reach him. That even now, even so far away, the alpha had found a way to be close.

Beomgyu swallowed hard, the ache in his chest blooming into something he could not handle. His hands shot out, grasping the scroll in a tight grip and hastily breaking the seal yet handling the parchment with care.

His eyes flickered over the opening words, and already, his breath faltered.

“My dear Beomgyu, 

I hope you receive this letter well.”

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, swallowing the lump forming in his throat before continuing.

“I write to you from the north, the new year has arrived and the snow here is thick and heavy. I can only imagine that it is snowing there too. We arrived safely, and already, we have spoken to my uncle, Lord Eunseok, of everything. He will do what he can to aid us.

I know my father is in good hands with Junsu and you at his side. I know that his time is running low too, Soobin should have gotten a letter from my mother of what Lord Huening Kai had written back.

To spare you, Huening is making the journey to Hanyang. He should arrive in February, and he has sent a letter personally to Junsu about what the poisoning might be. They think it is a poisoning from a mineral of some kind, one that can cause the symptoms my father is exhibiting. 

Even if my father does not survive, and I can only hope Huening arrives in time to perhaps aid in an antidote, even knowing where the poison is from helps up track who could have gotten access to said material. At least, that is what my cousin, Taehyun, had told me. For now, we can only wait. 

I am telling you this because it should be what consumes my mind, what holds my focus. But I find that, even with the weight of my duty pressing upon my shoulders and the absurdity of this entire situation, I can only think of you.

I think of the way things ended between us, of what I should have said, of what I wish I could take back.I should have told you that day why my behavior had changed. I wanted to. I wanted to speak of this in person, but I understand why you did not want to see me.

The truth is, my father summoned me during your heat. A letter had arrived from Lord Park Changmin, detailing what happened during the hunt and the fight you had gotten into. He had twisted the story, of course, made it sound as if you had acted out of place, but the important part is he also detailed the way I came to your defense. 

And my father was not happy with this. He summoned me and reminded me of my rank, of my duty and how I should not concern myself with a mere servant.”

Beomgyu’s hands trembled violently at those words, his vision blurring for a moment before he forced himself to keep reading.

“It was the worst argument we had in years. I have always felt shackled by my titles and expectations placed upon me. And for a brief moment, I let those chains dictate my actions once more. I thought that if I distanced myself from you, I could silence the thoughts in my head and the feelings I should not allow myself to have.

And then my father fell ill, and everything only worsened.

I could not stand to be near anyone. I pushed everyone away, even those closest to me. Then the council came, and they told me I would ascend. It felt like the final nail in a cage I had been building my entire life. So when you came to me that day, when you looked at me with such concern, with such sincerity, I could not bear it and I was afraid.

Because you remind me of everything I wish I could be. Of the life I could have had if only things had been different. And I hated myself for it. So, I lashed out at you instead. I have no excuse, and I do not ask for forgiveness. If cutting off my own hand could prove how deeply I regret my words, then I would do so without hesitation. 

Most of all, I should have never said those words to you.

You, of all people, who know the burden of having an ill parent. You who understand the weight of helplessness and having titles you cannot control. I should have never used those words against you. I tell you this because you deserve to know this truth. I would rather abdicate it all than allow you to think I act without reason.

Despite all the snow and wind here, along this estate there grows trees of many kinds. Apple trees, spruce trees, holly trees, but one of them catches my attention most, an orange tree. One blooms right outside my chambers and each time I see it, I am only reminded of you.

And I am then reminded how the only thing I truly wish for is to see you again. To hold you close, to take us both far away from all of this— away from the pain, the duty, the sickness that clings to everything we hold dear. 

Perhaps you will be angry that I wrote to you, and I understand why. Or perhaps you are angry that I am saying these words, for I am a prince, soon to be king, and as you’ve told me before, I do not owe you anything. But that is where you are wrong, I owe you many things, Beomgyu. 

We leave for the northwest soon. The journey has not been too hard, and stopping by to see each village and my people gives me more motivation for this as well. I am glad there are only five houses I must visit, but it will take a while. I can only hope the time passes soon enough.

I hope you write back. And if you do not, I understand that too. I must go now, but even if you choose to not speak with me, please expect another letter from me soon.

Farewell and please take care of yourself, Beomgyu.”

The letter ended simply, with his signature at the bottom, the ink slightly smudged, as if he had hesitated before writing his name. 

And Beomgyu stared at it for a long time. His throat felt tight and he found it hard to breathe, and before he knew it, the tears came hot and heavy. Then he began to sob harder than he had in weeks, it was silent and shaking, hands pressing the parchment against his forehead as if it could somehow make the pain lessen. 

The ache inside him swelled until it felt unbearable. Suddenly the guilt ate at him, he wished to go back in time and chose to speak with him and to hear these words come out of the prince’s mouth. It was painful to read the words, written with such tenderness and care.

But in a way, it was also relieving. 

To know that the prince still found it in himself to care for him, to explain himself, even though he really did not have any reason to. He felt even more sympathetic for the prince, he knew that this whole situation must have been difficult for him but he did not know that Yeonjun also felt this need to escape. He had thought the prince was the freest man in the world, but it seems not. 

And seeing the emotion so evident in the words only made him cry more.

He can smell the faint cedar and cinnamon lining the parchment and that only worsened the feeling. Because deep down he wanted the same thing. He wanted to see the alpha, to breathe in his scent, to feel his presence beside him. The longing he felt for Yeonjun those few weeks in December suddenly came back, tripling in size, and hurling within him.

But they were miles apart, and there was nothing he could do but cry in the aching vastness of his own longing.

The next morning, as Beomgyu tended to the king, his thoughts remained plagued by Yeonjun’s letter.

He could not shake the words from his mind of how the king had told the alpha to not concern himself with mere servants. The mere servant in question being him, Beomgyu. 

It just made no sense. The man who said those words was the same one laid before him now, the same man who once patted his head when he was younger, the same man who called him a beautiful, healthy baby just days ago, the same man who now reached out in his fevered state, gripping his hand tightly whenever the pain became unbearable.

What had changed? Or rather, what had King Hyunseok known about Beomgyu that neither he nor the prince knew?

Did perplexing behavior run in the family? He thought to himself before exhaling sharply, shaking his head. He had no right to ask such questions, no reason to dwell on them. And even if he wanted to, there was no one to ask.

The king himself was in no state to answer. He spent half his days trapped in some fever-induced haze, his mind tangled between past and present. The rare moments of clarity were short-lived and Beomgyu could not risk disturbing them.

And even if the king had been well, what could he possibly say? “Yes, I once commanded my son to stay away from you. What about it?”

He would not dare to ask, no, that would probably seriously lead to his own exile.

But today, there was little time for thoughts beyond the present. The king was in more pain than usual as his body wracked with fever. He struggled to breathe and could not keep down anything they fed him.

Junsu worked tirelessly beside him, crushing herbs, preparing medicine and taking notes of the condition for future reference. And Beomgyu did what he always did, he wiped the king’s brow, helped him drink, murmured soft comforts that he hoped, prayed.

His thoughts of Yeonjun and of the letter all faded into the background. Because at that moment, all that mattered was this. Caring for the king and ensuring he made it through another day. And by the time the sun had set, exhaustion weighed heavy in his bones, but the day was far from over.

Later that evening, he met with Soobin.

The halls were quiet at this hour so they settled in in a lounging area of sorts. It had been a terse day, so when they finally aided the king to sleep, the two then met up to discuss what the queen had sent the prince royal.  It was everything that Yeonjun had told him in the letter, so they started speaking about the whole situation, of the possible type of poisoning. 

"The Huening family," Beomgyu breathed out, "they really are our only hope in this matter. But... honestly, I confess, I remember little of them. My recollections are very faint."

Then Soobin’s eyes shifted downward with the faintest scrunch on his nose. He remembers seeing this look the last time the family was mentioned that day long ago,

“I wish I could forget them entirely."

He could smell how the prince’s scent, one of sandalwood and vanilla, turned into something bitter. 

The omega felt his eyebrow arch in curiosity, "Why would you wish for such a thing?"

Soobin hesitated, his hand brushing against the cup in front of him, his fingers grasping it as though it might steady the tremor in his voice, 

"I should not have spoken so freely," he muttered, tone laced with regret.

Beomgyu leaned forward with a faint smile, "Now you must tell me, Your Majesty. You cannot leave me in suspense."

The alpha met his eyes, expression suddenly guarded before it lowered. He exhaled,

"Well then, you must give me your word, Beomgyu. Promise you will not speak a word of this to anyone. Only my brothers know, and I would prefer to keep it that way."

Beomgyu inclined his head, "Then regard me as one of your brothers. I shall speak of it to no one."

A long pause stretched between them, and Soobin's face softened, vulnerability creeping into his features, 

“House of Kang, where my mother comes from, is quite close to the Huening clan. They visited us when they could, and each time they did, I found myself in a horrible situation.”

Then the alpha looked away, as though the words itself required a moment of fortitude. Beomgyu did not press, he waited for the prince to tell him the words in his own time. When he spoke again, his voice was nearly a whisper,

"I…I have been in love with Huening Kai for as long as I can remember. I was sixteen when I confessed my feelings to him and he ran when I told him. Ran from me without a word. Since that day, every time we are in the same room, we can barely look at one another."

Beomgyu’s heart clenched with sympathy. He leaned back, surprised by the rawness in the prince’s voice, "Is he not an—"

"Alpha?" He interjected with a bitter smile gracing his lips, "Yes, he is. But... if I am being honest, I have only ever felt anything for alphas. No offense, but omegas and betas—" He trailed off, the words unspoken but clear.

"No offense taken," Beomgyu replied, though his mind lingered on the subtle ache in his chest at the premise of it all: 

An unrequited love.

He could not control the way his thoughts automatically turned to Yeonjun. 

The crown prince, who was currently on his journey to become king. And the object of his own unspoken affection. Ever since the alpha left, he began to bury his feelings even deeper, out of necessity, but now, in the silence of the room, they seemed as blatant as ever. He realized then, that the heartache of unrequited love was not a feeling confined to those of lower status. 

It stretched across all lines—royalty, wealth, nobility—it touched them all.

He then spoke out, prompted by his feelings, "It is hard to imagine someone of your caliber. Someone who wields the world in his hands, to know what unreciprocated love feels like."

Soobin’s eyes flickered to meet his and for a moment, he was quiet. Then he spoke,

"Longing does not recognize rank, Beomgyu. It does not care for status, for wealth. It simply exists. It lingers, a quiet torment."

The silence between them grew thick but the prince’s voice soon broke it, carrying a sudden charge, 

"But you must know what I mean, do you not?"

Beomgyu’s breath caught and a sudden wave of panic gripped him. He could not— no, surely Prince Soobin could not know. He stiffened slightly, "What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

And the alpha’s lips curled into a knowing smile, but his eyes held an understanding, "Do not feign ignorance, you know exactly what I am speaking of."

For a long moment, their eyes locked and Beomgyu’s heart seemed to skip a beat. The unspoken truth hung between them, suffocating. His mind raced and then, as though the air itself could no longer bear the silence, Soobin spoke once more, 

"You are in love with him, are you not?"

The words fell like stones, heavy and cold. 

Him— it did not even have to be explicitly said as they both knew who the alpha was referring to. Beomgyu’s chest tightened, his heart had not been ready for this. He wanted to laugh it off, to deny it. But the truth was there, being voiced out for the first time and naked between them, the mere mention of it shattered him completely.

Tears sprang to his eyes before he could stop them. They came, uncontrollable, spilling down his cheeks, a raw and unrelenting surge. All he could do was shake his head, his voice barely a whisper, 

"Please, Your Majesty, do not speak of this to anyone. I never... never meant for it to be this way, truly, believe me."

Soobin was at his side in an instant, his hand resting on the omega’s shoulder though there was hesitation in his touch. 

"Beomgyu," he called out tenderly, "do not feel sorry for your own feelings, I out of everyone understand the feeling. I will not speak a word to anyone about this, we are friends now, aren’t we?"

The word "friend" resonated within Beomgyu, a warmth spreading through him. He had never had a friend, not like this at least with someone who truly understood.

The prince continued, "And I would even say... you have a better chance with your own unrequited love than I do with mine."

The implication of those words hit Beomgyu like a sudden gust of wind, his heart freezing in his chest. The idea of Yeonjun loving him in return felt laughable. Like a humorless joke being played on him. It was a distant, impossible dream, one that could never reach the light of day.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his voice strained.

And Soobin offered him a bittersweet smile, "Nothing. You will see for yourself in time."

With that, the prince stood but his expression softened as he looked down at Beomgyu, "I must take my leave now. But stop your crying and rest, Beomgyu. You deserve it."

The door closed softly behind him, leaving the omega alone in the quiet, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and emotion.

When Beomgyu got back to his own chambers, he could not rest.

The alpha’s words replayed in his mind, an echo that refused to settle, "You have a better chance with your own unrequited love than I do with mine."

He did not understand it. 

Did Soobin know something that he did not? Did he believe that Yeonjun, too, felt the same way? No, he shook the thought away. At most, the crown prince had made it clear that he cared for him—as one does for another.

But love? Love was entirely different than simply caring for someone. And Yeonjun had shown, as well, actions that were not of love.

His eyes drifted to his desk, to the empty parchment lying beside the inkstone. His hands twitched at his sides. He had never been a man of writing, and yet here he stood, debating whether or not to write at all. But after a moment, he sighed and rolled out the parchment before him.

His mother had taught him how to read and write, despite his standing as a servant. “A skill not many possess”, she had once said. “But my father was a merchant, and he ensured I learned it all the same, as I will with you.”

Beomgyu was grateful for it now, one of the very, very few things he was glad his mother taught him. His brush hovered over the parchment, hesitating.

In the end, he wrote to his heart’s content.

“My prince,

I hope you do not disregard this letter, for I know you must receive many. I do not have a seal of my own, so you will not know which one is mine, but I hope, regardless, that you will find this one and read it.

The king’s condition remains the same, though some nights are harder than others. Junsu has mentioned to me briefly what the poisoning may be and of the work Lord Huening will come to do. I admit, I do not know much about him, but I trust the queen’s decision, as well as yours. 

Junsu also tells me I have a talent in physician’s work. I do not know if I believe him, but I have been learning much in these past few weeks. There is little else I can do but care for the king as best as I am able, and I am learning much through being by his side. I never considered myself a religious man, my prince, but I pray for your father when I can. It is the least I can do. 

When I received your letter, I was afraid to read it. I hesitated for so long, wondering what you might have written. I feared confronting it because I was burdened by the way we left things. But when I read your words, I could only cry harder than before. I am relieved that you still think of me, my prince.

You had no reason to go to such lengths to explain yourself and yet you did. And for that, I am grateful. I should not have been so afraid to open it, because I needed to hear those words more than I had realized.

But I must apologize too, my prince. I never heard you out that night because I was too overwhelmed, too exhausted and lost in my own feelings to face yours. And at the time, although I was upset by what happened between us, I still cared for you.

I will always care for you, my prince. You are in my thoughts every day, whether I wish for it or not. I know the king had told you to keep a distance from me, and I am not sure why he would, but that does not matter now. What matters now is moving forward from this and never looking back.

From here on out, I only wish for peace between us. There is no need to hide things from one another, no need to pretend as if we do not care. If you ever need to be angry, then be angry with me. If you need to be sad, then I will cry with you. If you need to be silent, then I will sit beside you in that silence.

I will always be here for you, my prince. I will be by your side for as long as I am able.

It has been hard without you or Queen Eunyoung. My work keeps me preoccupied most of the time. But in the meanwhile, I have also grown close to your brother, Prince Royal Soobin. I never expected it, and yet he has become somewhat of a friend to me.

These days in January have been long and difficult, and yet he has gotten me through them. In many ways, he has been my rock and I do not think I would have endured this month without him.

I will write to you more often, I promise. And I wish you luck and safety on your journey. Until the time comes when I may see you again, I, too, can only wait. Hopefully by then, it will not be as cold and things will be much easier.

Yours,
Beomgyu”

The next morning, he sealed the letter and made sure to scent the scroll with his own as best he could and handed it to the royal courier, watching in silence as the man departed into the morning mist.

———

As January bled into February, so too did the weight of hopelessness that had once settled into Beomgyu’s chest.

It melted away with the snow, dissipating bit by bit with each letter that arrived.

And with the winter ending, a new rhythm appeared in his life. One of sending letters to the crown prince, and receiving them back. At first, Yeonjun’s letters arrived at odd intervals which was dictated by the prince’s ever-moving schedule. But soon, it became something expected and constant.

The letters became their thing.

The royal courier service was faster than most, more direct. And so their words found each other with ease, the space between them no longer measured in mere distance, but in the moments it took for ink to dry, for wax to be pressed, for a letter to be sealed and sent away.

There was something about writing words rather than saying them that felt freeing. There was no need to fear your sentiments if you wrote them down, no need to be held back. And Beomgyu knew this sentiment was shared by Yeonjun.

The letters they wrote to one another carried words that neither of them could say aloud, things that, if spoken in person, would have been too much. There were feelings tucked between the lines but present all the same.

At times, Yeonjun would write things that felt almost inappropriate, not in their nature, but in the very existence of them—things that should not be spoken between a crown prince and a servant, between an alpha and an omega.

And yet, they were spoken nonetheless.

One evening in February, a letter arrived with the wax seal of the crown prince, the edges of the parchment still cool from the journey. He brought it to his nose, sometimes he could smell the faint traces of cedar and cinnamon. Beomgyu had grown used to the rush that filled him due to these letters, the way his fingers shook as he broke it open. 

Reading this particular letter, he read the same things Yeonjun often wrote about; the people he has met and their encounters, the landscapes he has seen, questions about how he has been doing.

Another somewhat humorous thing he writes about too is warning him to not get too close to Soobin, to focus on anything else but that. Beomgyu thought it was cute, how jealous the prince could sometimes get. 

Then, mid letter, he read something that made his heart stop.

"Beomgyu, you must also forgive me for the late reply. My rut came suddenly, and I had little time to write back. It was painful, more than others. Perhaps it was the travel, the exhaustion, but it was near unbearable. I wished for it to pass quickly, but the body does not listen to the mind’s demands.

I thought of you during it. It shames me to admit, but I regretted leaving you alone during your own heat. I have not stopped thinking about that since, how you too endured it alone with no one beside you.  And now I find myself wishing that I had staye— "

Beomgyu slammed the letter shut in an instant, his pulse thrumming wildly beneath his skin.

He felt his omega stirred within him, a thick heat curling at the base of his stomach and rising like a tide he could not suppress. He swallowed hard, fingers gripping the parchment so tightly he feared it might tear.

Why would he write such things? Why did he speak so freely of such matters, as if it were nothing? As if Beomgyu could read those words and simply move on?

For a long moment, he could do nothing but stare at the ink, dark and deliberate against the paper, the strokes of Yeonjun’s hand as bold as ever. He had never considered it deeply before what it must be like for Yeonjun.

He had spent so much time fearing his own biology, his own burdens, that he had never once thought of how the crown prince must suffer through the same, bound by his own body just as Beomgyu was bound by his rank.

But more than that…

He thought of me during it?

A rush of warmth flooded his cheeks, and Beomgyu hastily pressed the letter shut once more, as if folding it away could silence the erotic thoughts it had awoken. 

The alpha in a harsh rut, wild and overtaken, and thinking of only him. If he had been there, Beomgyu knew he would have let him. Let the alpha touch him where no one else has, submit himself to the alpha and allow him to do anything his instincts desired.

No, he would have wanted the alpha to do so. Wanted the alpha to press him close, feel their warm bodies against one another, to grab him and take him in each and every way, knotting him, breeding him—

Beomgyu squealed, trying to silence the thoughts. But they would not quiet. Then he thought of the next time he will see the prince again. He couldn’t help but groan at the thought, embarrassment flooding his cheeks knowing he would never be able to look at the prince without thinking of that.

And so, the letters continued, their words becoming something Beomgyu looked forward to more than he was willing to admit.

Each one brought a glimpse into Yeonjun’s world, into his mind, his heart. There were updates of a life the alpha led without him. Some days, the letters were formal, speaking only of duty and obligation. Other days, they were filled with reflections, sentiments that veered too close to longing.

And Beomgyu responded in kind. Carefully at first, but then with ease. They wrote of things they never would have spoken aloud, of fears and burdens, of the past and of the future. Yeonjun would tease him in ink, and Beomgyu would respond with remarks just as sharp, just as pointed.

It was something only they shared. And in many ways, the letters did much to soothe his longing, to help how badly he missed Yeonjun. Each time a letter arrived, he made sure to keep them safe away and whenever he found himself yearning for the prince and his presence, he would re-read them and hold it close to his heart.

And though the distance between them remained, the letters made it feel just a little smaller.

Since February arrived in all its glory, another situation at hand then took up his time.

For the days leading up to Lord Huening Kai’s arrival were restless ones.

The King’s survival depended on the man. His condition had worsened, his fevers came more frequently, moments of clarity growing scarce. Some days, he would not even recognize Beomgyu. Other times, he would grasp his hand with surprising strength and saying things that made little sense.

Beomgyu had seen Junsu work nonstop, pouring over notes and old records, consulting with those who knew what little there was to know about poisons that could not be traced. But nothing they tried eased the King’s pain for long. They could do nothing but slow its progress.

It was more evident that Lord Huening Kai’s presence was necessary. A man from a family of scholars, a house known for their knowledge of foreign things. A man whom Prince Soobin had spent the past week driving himself to exhaustion over.

It was to be expected, of course. With both Queen Eunyoung and Crown Prince Yeonjun away, the responsibility of the palace had fallen upon his shoulders. He was now the highest authority within the royal grounds, the face of the monarchy in their absence.

And with that came the burden of ensuring Lord Huening Kai’s arrival, safety, and comfort.

But Beomgyu knew that was not the only reason Soobin was restless.

They were walking through the eastern gardens when the prince let out a sharp sigh, rubbing his temple as he frowned at nothing in particular. 

Beomgyu tilted his head, watching him carefully, “You are overthinking again, hyung.”

Oh and this was something new as well. Calling the Prince Royal, one of the most powerful people in all of the land, hyung. But Soobin insisted, in fact, almost threateningly and menacefully insisted that the omega called him as such.

And so he complied, begrudgingly. 

The alpha groaned, “How could I not? I have to ensure his accommodations are proper, that the staff is ready to receive him, that his journey was not too difficult—”

“You are not the one personally escorting him,” Beomgyu pointed out, amused, “And he is not the first esteemed guest you have welcomed into the palace.”

“This is different,” Soobin muttered.

“Because you love him?”

The words were meant to tease, but the moment they left his lips, he saw Soobin’s entire body go rigid. Silence fell over them and he waited for a reply but did not get one. 

The omega arched an eyebrow, voice falling to a whisper, “Hyung, did you think I would forget?”

Soobin shot him an irritated look, but there was something vulnerable beneath it, “You should not say such things so lightly. It is not that simple.”

And at the words, he felt himself soften, “I know.” he replied. 

Because he does know what it is like to be put in an impossible jinx caused by your feelings, caused by the complexity of life and the world surrounding you.

For a moment, they walked in silence, the only sound the distant rustling of bare branches against the winter wind. 

Then, quietly, the alpha admitted, “I do not know how to face him.”

Beomgyu glanced at him seeing the way his usual playfulness dulled into something uncertain,

“Then do not think of it as facing him,” He advised, “Simply welcome him.”

And the prince could only sigh again but there was something lighter in it this time, something that made Beomgyu feel like perhaps his words had helped, even just a little.

Two days later, at an early dawn before the rest of the world had been up, Lord Huening Kai arrived earlier than expected.

The news came before Beomgyu was even properly awake. One of the palace attendants hurrying down the halls, alerting the necessary figures that the noble’s carriage had already passed through the main gates and was making its way toward the Palace of the Monarchs.

Beomgyu barely had time to collect himself before he found himself standing at the entrance of the main hall, alongside Prince Soobin, Junsu, and a few other attendants.

The sky was still pale from the grasp of dawn. The sound of birds awakening, fluttering in the wind, and the warm chill of February settling over. Beomgyu’s hands remained folded before him, posture composed, but inside his nerves stirred.

This was the first time an outsider had stepped onto royal grounds since the King’s illness became known. The first time someone beyond the palace walls would see the state of things, would report back to their own people of what they had witnessed.

It was a dangerous thing, to be seen now. And yet, all Beomgyu could think about as the carriage came to a halt was the man who was inside. The door was opened, and from within, a man stepped out. He had not known what to expect, but even still, he found himself caught off guard.

Lord Huening Kai was beautiful.

Not in the way most alphas were, where power and dominance were etched into every feature, but in a way that was softer, refined. An almost foreign and unseen beauty that captivated him.

His eyes were striking, his nose perfectly sculpted, his lips curved in a polite expression. His robes were deep blue with intricate silver embroidery and when he moved towards them, it was with a grace that made it seem as if he had never known a day of struggle in his life.

And his scent—Beomgyu felt it before he fully registered it. Camellias and musk. A scent unlike most alphas, one that settled into the air without demanding space, yet impossible to ignore. Beside him, he could hear how Soobin’s breath hitched.

Then Prince Soobin stepped forward, his expression locked into something cold and composed.

“Lord Huening Kai, we welcome you to the royal palace.”

Kai’s lips curled into a polite smile, inclining his head in greeting, “It is an honor, Your Majesty.”

His voice was smooth and light, but there was something in the way he held himself that radiated an inexplicable anxiety.

Then Soobin turned to gesture toward him and Junsu, “This is Beomgyu, the King’s personal caretaker, and Junsu, our royal physician.”

Huening’s eyes shifted to them, and for a moment, the omega felt the full weight of it settle upon him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” The alpha greeted, “I have heard much about you, and I look forward to working alongside you.”

He bowed deeply, “We are grateful for your presence, my lord.”

And the alpha only hummed with a smile, “There is much to do, and to discuss. Let’s not waste any more time, shall we?”

His tone was gentle but the meaning was clear that time was of the essence.

Soobin cleared his throat, “You must be tired from your travels. We have prepared your accommodations within the palace, and you will be given anything you may require during your stay.”

Kai turned to him fully, his lips parting slightly, his eyes shifting just barely before he inclined his head once more, “You are most kind, Prince Soobin.”

Beomgyu caught the way the prince’s hands curled into his sleeves, then as he nodded in return saying so coldly, “Just doing my duty, Lord Huening.”

And the way he spoke was so curt and uncaring that he could see the words physically register in Huening's face. Subconsciously, the omega felt himself inhale and straightened out, it was going to be a long day and the real work hadn’t even begun.

They made their way through the palace and then entered the King’s chambers in silence.

The scent of medicinal herbs no longer masked the sharp tang of sickness, the stale of a room where death loomed closer each day.

Huening Kai moved first as his eyes swept over the King’s still form. There was no hesitation in him, no moment of uncertainty. He carried himself as if he had walked into many rooms just like this, where the dying clung to the thread of life while those around them pretended not to see it fraying.

He said nothing at first, merely gestured for his attendants to place down their cases. The clasps were unfastened swiftly, revealing leather-bound books, rolls of parchment, and an array of instruments Beomgyu did not recognize. Junsu greeted the young lord with a knowing nod, already flipping through his own carefully kept records.

"We have much to discuss," Junsu murmured, his voice low.

Huening Kai hummed in agreement, lifting a hand to the King’s wrist, pressing his fingers against the frail skin there. His eyes flicked between the king’s resting face and the notes in Junsu’s hand, "Then let us begin."

Beomgyu quickly realized this was not a conversation meant for him.

The words exchanged between Huening Kai, Junsu, and the other attending physicians were of unfamiliar terminology. At times, he caught fragments of their discussion, references to toxin levels, organ deterioration, systemic failure, but for the most part, he could do nothing but listen, unable to decipher what any of it meant. 

And he was not the only one in this confusion.

Beside him, Soobin stood with his fingers curling subtly into his sides. It was rare to see the prince so obviously out of his depth. He glanced at him and decided to distract him with conversation to ease the tension.

"You know," he whispered, keeping his voice in a whisper, "you could have spoken to him a bit more nicely."

Soobin stiffened just slightly before turning his head, a single brow arching, "I do not know what you mean."

And the omega simply raised a brow, "You were not…impolite," he allowed, "but polite? No."

The prince tilted his chin up in a way that made it seem as if he was trying to hide his feelings, trying to play the act of someone who doesn't care, "If he is here to do his job, then it should not matter how I greet him."

"Spoken like a man who does not wish to admit the mere sight of him makes his heart race."

And Soobin turned to him so quickly he almost laughed, but he held it in.

"Beomgyu," he warned, but the omega could see the way he tried to bite back a smile as well.

"What is it, hyung?"

"Silence."

Beomgyu grinned, satisfied, but before he could press further, movement caught his attention. Huening Kai was watching them. It was a brief glance, a slight shoot of dark eyes beneath those long lashes, but it was enough and Beomgyu recognized the look instantly.

He had seen it before, far too many times in his own face. A glance that saw through pretense. A glance that he knew well. But before he could say anything and point it out, Soobin cleared his throat, stepping forward, 

"What do you believe the diagnosis to be?"

And there was an obvious shift in the air. The conversation stilled, quiet pressing heavier than before. Junsu, Huening, and the other physicians exchanged a look, something they did not understand passing between them.

Then Huening Kai answered, "After reading what Junsu here has observed and talking to my associates, we believe it to be metal poisoning," he explained, "Specifically... lithium poisoning."

Beomgyu felt his breath catch at the words. Lithium poisoning. He had read of it, scarcely, when he was doing some readings in his training under Junsu. It is a strange one, it can be fatal or disabling, but it is hard to be exposed to it unless you are mining it or extracting it. 

But if what they say is true, that meant someone had extracted it, possibly liquified it, and fed it to the king in some way or another. And seeing the way the king’s condition had only deteriorated, Beomgyu felt anxiety rise in him.

Soobin, too, was visibly taken aback, "And is there any... good news in it? Is there any possible way to help him?"

The alpha exhaled, his fingers tightening slightly over the book in his hands, "I apologize, Your Majesty. Unfortunately, this is the worst possible conclusion."

And the silence consumed the whole room once more. Even Junsu’s expression, normally so composed seemed to falter slightly.

The prince swallowed, looking around, and he could smell how his scent of sandalwood and vanilla sharpened into something fearful, "Are you certain?"

Junsu spoke before Huening could, "They would not jest about such things, Your Majesty. If it were any other sort of poisoning, they would tell us immediately if there was such a cure."

"The King’s symptoms align with every case of lithium poisoning I have seen." Huening then added, “And his case seems to be one of the worst I’ve come across.”

For a moment, no one moved. Beomgyu felt like he physically couldn’t, the reality crashing down on them. Neither physician had to say the words out loud, King Hyunseok was going to die. 

Then, he asked out of a small hope, "And... there is no cure?"

But he saw the way Huening Kai hesitated, and that was enough for him to understand, he answered, "No."

The omega heard a sharp exhale followed by a barely audible inhale. Soobin’s hands now curled into fists at his sides, his shoulders stiff with the effort of keeping himself composed.

"The best we can do now," Huening Kai continued, "is care for him gently... and prepare."

He did not need to finish the sentence. The implication hung in the air, as tangible as the bitter scent of incense burning out. Prepare for the inevitable, prepare for the death of a king, of a father.

Then the prince lifted a hand, "Enough." His voice was quiet and tired before he continued, 

"My mother wrote to me that once we know what my father has, then we must investigate who had access to such materials. My uncle, Lord Eunseok, will look into it. So, let us focus on that now."

Huening Kai nodded, "It will not be difficult to trace. Lithium is not something acquired easily, only those with significant influence would have access to it."

"I am sure we will see to it that those responsible are found." Junsu then spoke up, trying to reassure and ease the worries he knew that everyone in the room was feeling. He was an old, wiser man and it seemed the assurance worked.

Huening Kai then added, "You should also look within the palace itself, Your Highness. Whoever administered the poison would have needed direct access to the King."

The prince only nodded, taking the words into account, "I will see to it. But for now, you and your entourage must be tired from traveling” 

He lifted a hand, waving for an attendant, “The palace staff will escort you to your quarters. You are dismissed for now. We will continue this discussion tomorrow.”

Huening Kai hesitated for a moment, as if considering saying something, but then nodded, “As you wish, Your Highness.”

Then the lord bowed low and respectfully and then he was turning, his attendants bowing as well before following and exiting the chamber.

Junsu clapsed his hands before bowing his head slightly, “I will continue looking into ways to lessen his pain. There must be something.”

“I appreciate it, Junsu. You’ve done enough for today.” The prince dismissed him as well.

With that, the room began to empty and only then, when the doors finally shut, did Soobin allow his shoulders to fall.

Beomgyu could smell the despair in his scent, thick and overwhelming, and the way the alpha was trying to suppress it. But one look to his resting father, sleeping so peacefully without knowing what was battling inside his body, made the prince’s composure break.

And then the first tear fell. 

It slipped down Soobin’s cheek in silence, and he did not move to wipe it away.

Beomgyu could only watch as the prince stood there, rigid, as if trying to hold the rest of himself together while everything inside him splintered. The weight of responsibility, of sadness and the omega had seen it before. He had felt it before. 

And now it was unraveling before him in the form of a prince who had spent knowing that one day, this moment would come, yet still found himself unprepared for it.

The omega hesitated before he stepped closer.

Theirs was not a relationship of deep familiarity, but he had come to know Soobin in these past weeks. He had seen the way he carried his burdens in silence and tried his best to make things easy and calm in the throw of it all. He had seen enough to know that even now, Soobin would try to push it all down, to bear it alone.

And so, Beomgyu reached out.

His hand found Soobin’s arm, a light touch but enough. Enough to remind him that he was not alone in this. The prince exhaled sharply at the contact, before relaxing as all he was holding in left in that one breath.

“We will do our best, hyung, to make sure things are gentle for him,” Beomgyu murmured, “That is what matters, that things are no longer painful for him.”

Soobin let out a hollow laugh, “He will die soon.” His voice cracked on the last word.

And the sound made his chest tight, “I know,” he whispered, “But he is loved and will continue to be loved and cared for, even in these dark days. None of us are alone in this, hyung.”

The prince squeezed his eyes shut, another tear slipping free. He looked away, jaw tightening as if the sheer force of will could pull himself back together. And then with an inhale that shuddered through him, Soobin straightened once more.

His hand lifted to his face, fingers brushing away the tears. When he finally met Beomgyu’s eyes, his expression was carefully composed again though his eyes remained glassy.

“You should rest,” The omega urged him gently.

But the alpha shook his head, “I cannot.”

Beomgyu frowned, stepping back, “At least, write to your family about this. Let your brothers and sisters know as well, so they can visit him more often. I will help you, if you allow me to.”

“Thank you, Beomgyu,” The prince nodded, now grabbing his hand, “You are a good friend to me. I see…why my brother cares for you a lot.”

The omega felt his throat tighten at the words but he forced himself to smile and hold steady, his fingers tensed in the prince’s grasp.

“I will always help where I can, Your Majesty,” he replied, “You do not need to thank me.”

Soobin only hummed in response, his grip lingering for a second longer before he finally let go. His eyes drifted toward his father once more before looking at the floor, and then up at the omega again.

Beomgyu took a step back, “I will prepare parchment and ink for you, and return shortly. You stay here, with your father. He will wake soon.”

The prince nodded absentmindedly, lost in his thoughts. Beomgyu turned, slipping away from the chamber. The moment the doors shut behind him, he let out a slow breath as the scent of a pained vanilla and sandalwood clung to him.

The following week unfolded with an oppressive quiet of grief pressing in on the House of Choi. 

Beomgyu felt naturally inclined to keep to himself in that time.

The family who stayed behind, the princes and princess, had visited often, their presence both a comfort and a burden in the wake of the king's deterioration. Each evening, after the family departed, Beomgyu then remained beside the king. It was not just a duty but a choice borne of love and respect. There was little else he could offer, his healing hands were not enough. 

That week, he did not receive a letter from Yeonjun. But he knew the queen and Yeonjun must have been devastated from the news. He could feel it, for grief is a collective burden, one they all shared.

One particular evening, as dusk settled over the royal chambers, the king seemed almost... present. 

The clarity of his mind was a rare gift, one Beomgyu could scarcely believe as the king, for the first time in days, looked up at him with a sharp eye. So Junsu and Huening Kai took advantage of it and had spoken with him, bearing the heavy news of his condition. 

The king had not shed a tear as he heard the need, not even a flinch of surprise or sadness. He had listened quietly and accepted his fate with a resignation Beomgyu could not fully comprehend. And yet, in that moment, he felt reverence for the king that, despite his condition, displayed a dignity that moved him.

So, he did the best he could to live up to that dignity and continue watching over him. 

Currently, Beomgyu sat at the side of the king, preparing the evening meal. 

He moved with practiced care as he fed him a warm broth. Their conversation had been light at first, filled with small talk. Beomgyu found himself trying, almost desperately, to keep the mood easy. He had become accustomed to these moments—always at the king’s side, always watching, always waiting.

"You’ve been quiet," King Hyunseok then murmured, "There is no need to be so... solemn, Beomgyu. What weighs on you?"

He took a steadying breath, “I want to see you become better, Your Majesty," he explained, "But these empty days stretch on, it is…hard."

"I know what you mean," The king hummed, "But do not be saddened by this, Beomgyu. I can feel in my bones that the heavens themselves have already embraced me, it is a beautiful thing."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, "Bear it as long as you can, Your Majesty. You have not given up yet."

The king’s lips curved into a weak smile, "Not yet," his voice faltering slightly but then, as though remembering something, his eyes softened, 

"Tell me, Beomgyu... do you remember when you were just a boy? When the halls were filled with the sound of your running and laughter?”

Beomgyu smiled at the memory though it felt distant now, "I remember some of it," he replied, "those were the days when everything seemed possible."

"You were a young, clingy omega, I remember how you’d always tug at your mother’s feet. Always so full of energy," King Hyunseok's said in a reverie, "But now... now it seems that fire has dimmed."

Beomgyu looked away, he could feel the tears swell in his eyeline. He does not remember those times as well as he wished he did. When he was very young, innocent, before he understood how cruel the world truly was. Before the world had shown him how cruel it was.

The king studied him as he processed the words before suddenly, his face shifted to one of recognition and into one of disbelief, an apologetic look crossing his features. 

"I am sorry," he then whispered, "I am sorry, please. I have not protected Beomgyu well enough…I have failed you, I have failed him."

The omega felt himself frown but also confused at the manner the man was speaking. Sitll, he did not want the king to be burdened by those things currently, 

"Do not apologize for anything, Your Majesty. You have done your best for me. If not for you, God knows where my mother and I would be right now."

King Hyunseok then began crying with a guilt so profound that Beomgyu couldn’t comprehend,

"No, no, you do not understand. I promised him, I promised . I am sorry, Beomgyu. Tell him—” He paused, voice choking, 

“Tell your father I am sorry," the king continued, regret bubbling up from within him seeping into every syllable, "Tell Hyejung I am sorry... I never meant for things to be this way."

The words shattered something deep within Beomgyu. 

Father?  

The room seemed to tilt, and for a moment, everything around him blurred. His mind screamed in disbelief, his body frozen in place as the implications of the king's words took hold. He had never known his father. His mother, ever reluctant to speak of him, had always told him he was a bastard. No one, not even the king or queen, had ever claimed knowledge of the man. 

And now, here was the king, speaking of an apology, of a father he had never known.

The king’s voice softened as he continued, his words tumbling out in a disjointed stream, "I saw him just now, in your face. You look just like him, you know? You look just like your father, like my dear Hayoon. Yes, it is almost too alike."

Beomgyu felt his entire world flip upside down.

The name Hayoon reverberated in his mind like a distant echo. Suddenly the memories came flashing back, of the painting, of old man Junsu’s words. Hayoon, a legend, the Tiger of the East, the most famous general. The man whose legacy had shaped so much of their history, a man beyond many. 

And now, that man, apparently his father , was more than just a name. The realization hit him like a thunderclap, and the world around him seemed to crumble as his breath quickened. He looked at the king, whose face had grown pale with exhaustion. 

"No," Beomgyu whispered, his mind struggling to grasp the enormity of it all. 

This can’t be true.  

He tried to rationalize the words, to make them fit into the delirium he knew was clouding the king’s mind.

But looking into the king’s tear-filled eyes, the sincerity in his voice began to shatter that rationalization. The way the king spoke was so full of pure guilt and sincerity, it made something deep inside Beomgyu stir, a dark, nagging feeling he couldn’t shake.

And then, the king continued, rambling, " I know I should have told you this long ago, Beomgyu, I am sorry for not doing so. Soon, I promise I will tell Hayoon how sorry I am, soon.”

He took a step back, his mind racing. Could the king be telling the truth? Then he thought of the face in the portrait, of his chestnut hair, his features. The resemblance of his own face. Even if the king was just being delirious and spewing nonsense, there was something in him that told him there was genuine truth to this. 

Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.

He began hyperventilating, vision blurring, the room closing in on him. It felt like everything he had known, everything he had been told about his lineage, about his place in this world— it was all a lie.

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor as he stumbled backward. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, he was unsure whether his body could hold him upright. His feet moved before he could stop them, carrying him out of the room as the king’s weary voice echoed in the distance.

Beomgyu didn’t know how he got to the door, but there he was, already stepping out into the cold night air. His breath came in ragged gasps, the tears that had begun to fall down his face.

He was confused and afraid and there was only one place he knew he had to go—the one person who held all the answers, even if he was the last person she wanted to see right now.

His mother.