Only A Pawn

Sehun bites his lips and shuts his eyes against the dying light of the sun, the red streaks pained across the sky in what should be a demonstration of the splendour of the earth, but instead it taunts Sehun with its redness, a death of something that was once beautiful and bountiful, full of life, the crimson streaks like the curdling of blood from open wounds.

Its Sehun’s last sunset as a free man.

Sehun sighs.

There is a bustle of activity behind him, his aides and servants busy in sourcing Sehun’s clothes, the same ones that they ought to be dragging over his shoulders, but Sehun has some stubbornness left in him yet, glaring at the dying embers of the sun as he stands with fake strength and bravado at his window, ceiling to floor, overlooking what was once his lands, the ones that he dreamed as a child would one day be left in his very able care.

That is no longer a possibility.

“Even now you do not understand our predicament child?” a voice breaks through the air behind him and Sehun swallows the lump in his throat.

Cautiously he turns to the speaker, his face rigid as he always forces it to be and bows respectfully.

“Mother” he greets with no feeling and gets a scowl in response.

“It is time to grow up Crown Prince” his mother chastises in all her finest glory, ruby red lips and decked off in overweight jewels, a true regal beauty that Sehun is the splitting image of.

Sehun barks a hallow laugh that makes all pause.

“Crown Prince?” he repeats in mockery.

“Sold you mean” he spits as he opens his eyes and glares at his mother.

She doesn’t blanch or look away.

She should Sehun thinks.

She won’t.

“If that is what you prefer” she responds tightly, her expression refusing to waiver.

She is a strong woman. Has always been and Sehun hopes in the depths of his heart, that she will always be so, even when her strength hurts Sehun’s delicate feelings.

Why can’t he be as strong as she is?

“It is what our weakness has brought us, so we might as well accept it” she continues after a strenuous pause of just staring at Sehun, who is the one that pales at her words.

“I couldn’t give birth to a King and you cannot fight your fate, so let’s not pretend it is otherwise”  she makes clear as he takes a few steps towards Sehun’s too large bed, a nonchalant hand dragging over the fabric of his silken robes.

Sehun’s chest burns.

His mother wounds like no other.

If only he were stronger. If only he could be a King that could conquer, could defend them all.

“Get dressed child” she says as she looks upwards, deliberately ignoring the hurt look in Sehun’s eye.

“He is not someone that we can afford to keep waiting” is all she says and Sehun has no choice but to accept it as fact.

******

Sehun’s steps are slow and frightened.

This feels like a trip to the gallows and maybe it is.

He never thought his marriage would be like this but even Princes’ have to have the comfort pulled from beneath their feet and to get their heads from the clouds, a place that Sehun has spent too much time in frankly.

Always thought of himself more than he ever was it seems.

He is no King.

A Crown Prince certainly, a gift bestowed by birth, from a royal blood line, the first child born to the King and the Queen.

Yet.

He is not the powerful warrior they desired or required.

A porcelain gentle gifted beauty instead of a vicious forceful rugged warrior.

They wished for a King and shall get a “Queen” instead or so they whisper when they think Sehun doesn’t hear.

As a child Sehun was fooled into thinking it wouldn’t matter. He had a good heart and a kind soul and his weakness in body and distinct lack of viciousness would never be to his detriment. He is special in different ways, that same cold unfeeling mother he has now would assure him. He is not a beast but a beauty, a gift of a different kind, a blessing.

Now even she thinks it too.

He is a weakness and a liability.

Especially in this changing world they now find themselves in.

The peace of the past is gone.

The tribes and clans of the North and East are no longer content to stay in their own territories and war is coming.

There is no time left to appreciate beauty and trust in a kind heart. It’s time to fortify boundaries and foster alliances.

Sacrifices have to be made and freedoms lost.

Sehun just happens to be the pawn in a game he has no control over, a token to be bargained with and a life sized gift.

This is a not a choice.

It’s a reality.

If you are not strong enough to guard yourself or the people that can trust you to take care of them, then you should at least have the courage to sacrifice for them.

That is what his mother had said when this decision had been made.

When she had decided that Sehun is to be sold to the South.

Sehun wishes he could prove her wrong, wishes that everything she says is false, but standing before these doors, dressed in his finery, on the verge of offering himself on a platter as a gift for an alliance makes it clear that he isn’t.

Sehun pauses before the doors to the throne room.

What was once his father’s glory and what was once meant to be his ascension, his chance to fulfil his dreams.

His chest aches and his feet feel heavy, the clothes suffocating and the entire situation as if it were out of a dream….or nightmare.

His mother doesn’t spare him the kindness of second thoughts or any of that matter.

Why think about it?

There is no other alternative.

Either accept the alliance and the terms of such an amalgamation or watch the bloodbath that is sure to transpire when the clans from the East invade and seize their lands by force and starve them all to death.

When put that way the choice is clear.

What does your independence or pride matter when all it will bring you is death?

His mother does not mince words.

Sehun knows rationally that this is the best choice, the only choice that he can make, expect for giving in to his juvenile thoughts and sneaking away in the death of night, but not only would that make him a coward, but a disloyal ungrateful traitor.

Sehun has been raised with love, despite how harsh his mother may seem now.

Once upon a time, he was the light of her life. Now he is simply the pawn in the game of survival. Sehun wants to resent her for it but he cant. His life is a small sacrifice to make for the thousands that trust in their family to lead them and keep them safe.

He knows it all.

That doesn’t mean he hates it all any less.

“Go on” she says softly behind him.

This time he can hear the tenderness and love in the broken way her voice cracks.

From here he is on his own and the fate of himself and all their people relies on what transpires next.

That is too much pressure for one small over spoiled Crown Prince to bear and they all know it, but it is what it is and there is nothing that can change it.

Sehun steels his heart and his mind and with one last fleeting look at his mother, who is desperately trying not to shed tears, pushes against the large imposing doors and takes the first step to his enslavement.

*****

Sehun doesn’t bother to look around.

He has played in this room as a child when his mother and father held court, has hidden behind the large pillars when he played with his caretakers and when he had matured he had sat at Court at his mother’s right, had been given the chance to be her advisor and her counsel.

This is a room that he knows well.

The strangers that have invaded it with their arrogance and disrespect are unknown however.

Sehun has been educated well, taught in the ways of the past and even trained in the magical gifts they say runs through his blood, but there is still much for him to learn.

The clans of the South are one such deficit.

All Sehun knows of them is their reputation for spilling blood.

And to think he is expected to be one of them soon.

Sehun’s blood crawls at the thought but he tries not to let his show. He can feel eyes on his form, but so far there is an oppressive silence that prevails. Each step is harder than the last. He constantly reminds himself that there is a greater reason for all of this, that no matter how much he hates this, his people are relying on him, their Crown Prince. He must do this.

Eventually he comes to a stop at the front, in front of the thrones, eyes downcast and heartbeat erratic, and body nearly trembling.

The eyes never leave his form.

“My Lords” he greets softly, not sure if they use the same terms of address, considering that they speak in a particular dialect and all.

His mother had been trying to teach him a bit about his new allies, his new “owners” but his stubbornness had been at its peak and he had point blank refused any such instruction.

He is already being traded like cattle.

He is determined to keep whatever dignity this situation can afford him!

Which is just the thing that makes him lift his eyes to finally, and he means FINALLY, at least catch a glimpse of whoever it is he is expected to spend the rest of his life is perfect marital torture.

He does it slowly.

His mind may be made up but the nervousness is still crippling.

And it doesn’t get better when he does manage to drag his eyes from the floor and upwards towards the throne directly in front of him.

The man that sits on that chair is certainly not what he expects in the least.

He sits strong and proud, dressed in the customary furs of the Southerners whenever they venture North, dark and course, very different from the silken finery that Sehun wears, body firm and strong, an arrogant nearly rude leg prompt nonchalant on the velvet fabric of the chair that Sehun’s father once sat upon in the days when he still lived, when he protected Sehun and his mother both, Sehun slowly trailing his eyes upwards, past the firm chest and the broad shoulders, up to the angular fine jaw and the sculpted nose set upon a handsome face set with full lips and all complimented with the richest prettiest caramel skin, until finally Sehun lifts his gaze to meet meets the darkest eyes Sehun has ever seen in his life.

Sehun gasps in his shock.

Sehun has no idea who this is and he is not sure he wants to find out, not when his entire body feels weak with just one look from this strange handsome man, the power radiating him frightening Sehun and enticing him all at once.

Sehun is not ready to deal with this many conflicting feelings.

“Prince” someone finally speaks.

Sehun is disoriented, unable to tear his eyes from the man that holds his gaze, the shape large brown eyes boring into Sehun, passed his facades and his bravado and weak courage, passed his fine clothes and pride as Crown Prince, passed his skin and into his depths, into the heat of his soul and the twisting of his mind.

He makes Sehun very uncomfortable but Sehun is unable to look away, almost as if his very gaze is a command of its own and Sehun is already showing his weakness.

His heart is hammering in his chest and his knees feel weak, his senses in disarray and his mind struggling to hold it all together, reeling from the intensity of the look and tempest he sees in the man’s dark eyes.

The man doesn’t release Sehun from his spell, instead he effortless directs Sehun with a shift of his eyes and a slight tilt of his eyes to the man that had spoken, and as if compelled Sehun finally releases his gaze to give his attention to the man that spoke.

Someone that Sehun finally recognizes.

Suho.

The Chief Advisor to the King of the South, the one that had brokered this possible alliance.

Possible.

Sehun is very conscious of this fact.

Whilst he is choice less and desperate, the Southern Lands are in no such straits. This is a favour on their parts or so his mother recites to him. They are born and bred warriors with more conquered lands than all the Northern Kingdoms combined.

Sehun is meant to entice and enamour, the reason for this very parade.

If he does not meet their favour, this alliance is but a dream. It could very well end with them just claiming the lands by might rather than marriage and Sehun and his people will be in the same dire situation as they began with.

This is very precarious, truly.

Sehun is supposed to be charming and beautiful and convince the King of the South that he is at the very least alluring enough to be his primary Consort if nothing else. Or that was the plan as far as Sehun knows.

The King is not here.

Sehun had met him once when he was a child, the very reason for the disgust that bubbles in his gut when he thinks about the fact that he was meant to be King, spoiled and adored by his people to be so degraded to a concubine, spinelessly handing over the lands his bloodline has ruled for centuries.

Instead of being the King that his father had hoped for, Sehun is now a pretty little for the pleasure of the South, strutted before them as a chattel for their appraisal, so degraded that even now despite his utter disgust and hatred for it all he has to hope with all his heart that he meets their expectations, that they agree to this trade.

He can feel their eyes over his body, feel them all judging and examining him, evaluation him, stripping him down to nothing at all.

Dark Eyes especially.

His eyes have yet to leave Sehun, hot and heavy on Sehun’s form and Sehun tries his best not to react to the heat it causes to run along Sehun’s spine, how uncomfortable it makes him, how self-conscious it makes him feel.

He can only suspect that Dark Eyes is very important if he is here to represent the King and that alone makes him someone that Sehun needs to fear, something that already has too much power over Sehun.

Sehun swallows the lump in his throat and meets the eyes of the handsome Chief Advisor, someone who is thankfully a lot less intimidating than Dark Eyes.

“Chief Advisor” Sehun tries to greet but the words get caught in his throat, feeling very uneasy with those hot appraising eyes still heavy on his body, wanting to curl into himself and disappear.

Instead he just drags the robes tighter around his body as casually as he possibly can, reminding himself that he is still lucky.

He has been informed that in times long ago, this inspection was done in the . He is still granted protection of his fine silks, despite how useless they feel with the power of the gaze that is locked on his form.

The man smiles at Sehun almost kindly, his face very different from the audacious man that sits upon Sehun’s father’s throne, the one that was meant to be Sehun’s , the one that is being stolen from him.

“We are pleased to present our Crown Prince” Suho says with bounding obvious pride, even if it is coupled with a vague wave of his hand in the direction of Dark Eyes.

Sehun tries not to panic at this bit of information, entirely regretting now not having listened to his mother in his stubbornness.

He may not know much about the South, but he does know of their Crown Prince.

The infamous “Kai”.

He is the reason that this alliance is so sensible.

He alone is responsible for ensuring that the mere mention of an association with the South is enough to keep Sehun’s lands safe from all the other competing Kingdoms, how strong the South has become since he ascended to the position of the Chief Commander.

Sehun bites back the gasps that wants to slip passed his lips, feeling even more intimidated now, gaze dropping to the floor and just trying his best to compose himself.

If he disagrees then this alliance is finished.

Sehun needs to do something, ANYTHING, but he feels frozen and terrified.

“Look up” a command comes.

Rough and terrifying even if it comes from the most alluring voice Sehun has ever heard, silken and metal, smooth but rough and it’s like honey and oak and Sehun is definitely trembling now if he wasn’t before.

It’s a command that Sehun cannot refuse, though he does find it easy to given in to it when it comes from the man before him.

Sehun is hesitate to meet his eyes, but cannot refuse to comply, so does exactly that.

“Open your eyes” he commands again and Sehun’s entire body tenses, his heart pounding in his chest and hands clenching as he obeys.

He stares into the dark passionate eyes and gets lost, feels himself be ripped apart, his fake bravado and confidence falling away, his secrets obliterated, and bear and exposed and more vulnerable than he has ever been in his entire life.

Kai holds his gaze for what feels like an eternity and then some before he finally looks away, towards Suho as Sehun tries to gulp air and get his frightened provoked heart to settle.

They share an almost indiscernible look before Suho speaks.

“Thank you for your visit, Prince Sehun” Suho says kindly, even if it makes Sehun’s blood boil, the simple mockery and degradation that such a statement contains.

This is not something that Sehun should be thanked for.

Do they forget the situation that Sehun and all his people are in?

How truly degrading and embarrassing and demeaning stepping into this room with these invaders is to Sehun? To have his father’s throne sullied in such a way?

Sehun wants to say all of this but bites his tongue.

Especially since it is also a clear dismissal and that very thought scared Sehun senseless. 

What the just happened?

Sehun thinks he should protest. Should say something at least.

Where is the King?

Who is supposed to make the decision? It is the Prince? Would he act in Sehun’s favour? He has not seemed that impressed with Sehun. His expression does not change. He is as rigid as a stone. A very handsome stone admittedly, Sehun’s spine tingling at the thought of the mysterious dark stranger with the midnight eyes and the caramel skin and the radiating crippling power that pours of his very form but he has given no indication that Sehun has met any of his apparently exorbitant standards.

Sehun is both worried and insulted.

Before today he was meant to be a King, now his biggest concern is whether or not a savage from the South has demeaned him adequate.

Sehun would laugh, if he wasn’t so crippled with helplessness.

Sehun has to do something. ANYTHING!!

This can’t end this way. His pride is useless when his people’s wellbeing is at sake. He may not be their King in name anymore but he is in feeling and this is the sacrifice he must make for them.

Whatever action he contemplates is stilled when those eyes find his again however.

Whatever bravery or protest Sehun was trying to scramble together fades away instantly, terrified of displeasing the feared Commander and honestly, just in awe of his very presence, jealousy burning in his depths.

Why couldn’t he be like that?

Why couldn’t he strong enough to bring glory to his father’s name? To save his people?

Sehun hates himself so much in that minute that he can’t stand to be in his own skin, that childish pettiness rising in his throat and ripping apart the words that he figured he ought to have said in his enticement.

With one stubborn defiant look, he turns on his heel and leaves, refusing to spare a glance backward no matter how terrified he is that he has just condemned his people to damnation for his petty stubbornness.

*****

Sehun is dressed in his finest robes once more.

His mother is at his side, her regal beauty strained under the stress she is enduring since the death of her husband and the King, the reason why they are under threat right now.

Sehun wonders if even in these seconds she wishes that she had given birth to someone better, someone that she could rely on.

Sehun grimaces in his depression

She slaps at his arms.

“Fix your face” she instructs.

She reaches upwards to smoothen his collar, to align the fading crown on his head.

“You cannot let them change their minds” she says more to herself than Sehun but Sehun’s chest tightens.

“I’m sorry Mother” Sehun whispers to her.

She looks up from her nervous self-imposed task and smiles only faintly.

“There is nothing to be sorry for child” she says as he reaches for his cheek.

“I am sorry too” she says with eyes watery but her stubbornness will never let the would be tears fall.

“But even so, we must endure” she says a second later, whatever feeling they are sharing dissipating.

Sehun knows that much.

It’s all he has been hearing for weeks on end, trying their best to guard their borders and starve off the war on their horizons, whilst wooing the greedy invaders that pose as would be allies but are plundering even as they speak.

Sehun is not the only bounty they will seize from these lands.

For their protection, Sehun is not only paying with his body and soul but with the wealth of their lands, with the sweat and blood of their people, the ones that work the land and the mines, the precious stones the real reason that those on the outer borders are so eager to lay claim.

Sehun thinks they are not achieving much with this alliance.

It’s one monster instead of another.

His mother has a different view of things. At least this gives them the appearance of autonomy, it keeps panic from their people at bay and still permits Sehun a chance to have an input or so his mother insists.

She has worked damn hard to ensure that this is a proper “union”.

Had bargained and perhaps even begged that Sehun be married to the Crown Prince rather than just be another concubine of the old ailing King. Sehun himself has avoided it all as best as he can, allowing himself to be a proper pawn in all of this, just following the directives of his mother.

Guess he never was really King material.

Now he will be a token Queen, but in this situation, at this time anyway, he will simply be the Consort to the Crown Prince.

Maybe it’s just poetic justice.

Why fight your fate? There is really nothing that can be done. Even now he stifles the urge to run away from this horrid life but he is not that spineless thankfully. He has disappointed his mother and sullied his father’s name enough. This is the very least he can do for his people, for the mother that feigns strength and hide her sorrow with firmness.

“Let’s go. The Prince is not a patient man” she says after one last almost fond look and a brush of soft fingers to Sehun’s face before he calls for his attendants to repair the damage the tender touch has caused.

After all he must be pristine for his new owner.

Sehun closes his eyes and steels his resolve not for the first time.

*******

This is not the ceremony as yet.

It doesn’t make much of a difference anyway. It’s all just a farce isn’t it?

They are simply announcing the “prosperous Union of two Great Kingdoms!” and allowing his new “husband” to make his command and superiority known.

It’s all some sort of ego trip, a display of pompous grandeur that does nothing to mask the real nature of their kind, but these thoughts Sehun wisely keeps to himself.

He has learnt the hard way that his mother will not take well to any form of objections. He has been warned endlessly about ruining this “union” and jeopardizing everything that she has worked so hard to secure.

Sehun feels numb to it all.

Except.

His blood still boils when he enters his father’s throne room and sees Dark Eyes, with his insolent demeanour and disrespectful gait sitting upon the throne, uncaring and impertinent, showing his true disregard for all present.

Sehun tries not to glare, tries his hardest to remember how little control he has in this entire situation, tries his best to remember his mother’s harsh but necessary words.

You’re only purpose is to keep them happy

That is all he is worth now.

His finery and his regal features and even the golden crown upon his head are all disingenuous and deceitful.

Why didn’t they just dress him like they do the or slaves?

That’s what he is now basically isn’t he?

He glares at the offending invader for only a second, not brave enough to meet those cold midnight eyes before he lowers his gaze, accepting his now permanent degraded status finally.

Sehun says his greetings lifelessly and lets himself be lead. It is the new reality and he might as well get used to it, silent as the words are spoken around him, as all his life decisions are made for him, as his mother hammers out last minute details about this treaty of sorts, Sehun’s life reduced to the terms of a contract.

The other party involved remains silent, his advisor doing most of the talking. He seems nearly bored, but Sehun tries his best to not let his eyes betray him, his expression stone like, wishing that he could get the tempest in his mind and heart to be just as rigid.

At the end of the short rushed conversations and the set plans Sehun is finally ushered along the corridor, his mother ahead of him and his soon to be husband at his side. Sehun stares through the windows along the path and move along with the drifting of mindless, not conscious of anything until he is finally at the large doors.

He pauses for a second.

This is it.

His public capitulation.

The others pause around him, his mother shooting him a look a cross between panicked and angered, Sehun closing his eyes to those around him and taking a breath.

There are eyes on him, hot and heavy and Sehun feels smaller under their weight, the man beside him a stranger in every possible way.

Aside from his commands the day of their meeting, Sehun has yet to hear his voice, to have any conversation with him.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

It’s not as if they are friends or will be. Their thoughts or opinions or feelings have no bearing on this situation. It’s a contract and nothing more, a political liaison that they will have to live with for the rest of their lives. It’s Sehun sacrificing his dignity for the survival of his people and the Beast from the South is claiming territory and tribute in the name of his people and by the strength of his reputation.

Nothing more and likely nothing less.

The doors open and Sehun tries his hardest to slip the mask into place, swallowing the lump in his throat and preparing himself for the first of his many charades, the new status quo of his life.

“Come on now Little Prince” a rough voice breathes into his ear, Sehun startles into a real pause.

“Now is not the time to sulk”

And with that a strong burning hand encases Sehun’s wrist and he is pulled out into the blinding sunlight, the eyes of the masses upon him and the mask slips in place automatically, forcing a smile to his lips and waving his hands about in a fake cheerfulness, even as the hand that holds his capture burns into his flesh.

This is it.

Sehun can only now endure.