Pacing outside someone’s suite was not a princely thing to do—and yet Changmin found himself hovering in front of the solid wood door, looking and feeling nauseous. What was wrong with him? He’d had so many chances to talk to the Nightmare King these past few weeks, but every time something happened. A meeting, a guest, a need for the king to hurry back to Halloweentown.

Fate obviously hates me.

So there he was, like some common stalker waiting outside the king’s guest suite when they held conferences. His nerves felt like they were on fire, and he kept wringing his hands as if he were mad.

What could he say? So hey, I know I may have insulted you at every chance I’ve had, and also humiliated you in front of the Council a couple times, but you seem like a really nice guy, you’re kinda hot with that hair color, and we should go on a date.

It sounded stupid in his mind, and it would sound stupid out of his mouth.

He still poured over what exactly he should say when the door flung open and a very disheveled, groggy Nightmare King blinked back at him. Dark grey sweats hung low on his hips, and never before had Changmin seen so much of the king’s arms and chest. Holy…how? Changmin’s heart thumped against his chest; even looking sleepy—especially sleepy and half-—the king was almost too handsome.

“Oh. Snowpuff. Uh…” Yunho glanced down at his attire then back at the prince. “Not really who I expected to be at my door…and I look hideous.”

“You don’t look that bad.” Actually…he did, but Changmin was extremely biased. No I’m not. Okay, I am. I so ing am. Yikes. Shim! Put a lid on the cursing. Remember what you promised Mother.

Yunho chuckled. “You’re being too kind. A rock star waking from a five-day alcohol-induced coma would look better than me. Why are you at my door, little prince?”

The comment came out more affectionate than patronizing, so Changmin cast it aside. “I…er…I have a question to ask you.”

“Shoot, then.” Yunho turned away from Changmin and walked back into his suite, the prince following him out of assumption. The room was a standard one: a single bedroom with a full bath and living area. They were always assigned to the same ones (thus I knew which door to stalk, Changmin thought shamelessly) so some personal touches were added here and there.

Note to self…Yunho likes sugar skulls. That’s cool.

Yunho waved his arm out, gesturing to the mess that was the suite. “Welcome to mi temporary casa. Watch your step. Every time I stroll into a room, spiders and crawlies come out from everywhere to walk in the shadow of my path.”

“Wait, what?”

He flashed a wink at Changmin as he plopped down into cushions that swallowed his thin frame. “Or at least, that’s what you think happens.”

“Oh, shut up.” Changmin could not bring himself to sit for his asking a king out, so he chose to awkwardly lean against a pillar in the middle of the parlor. Yunho’s words revolved in his mind; he had been expecting someone else. Is he seeing someone already? “So, uh…how are you?” When Yunho’s eyebrows flew up in astonishment, he hastily explained, “Look, let’s just get a bit of the small talk out of the way, and then I’ll plow in with what I’m actually here for. Answer the dang question. How are you?”

“Is that the normal small talk question or the deeper one filled with meaning and metaphor? If so, I’m afraid I must ask that your schedule be clear for the next hour or two, as I am unsure of how long my impromptu soliloquy shall go on.” Yunho cackled and dodged to the side as Changmin sent a conjured snowball his way, puffing angrily. “Relax! I’m kidding. Sense of humor? Do you have one? Or is buried in the forgotten attic of life with your fashion sense?”

Happy thoughts. Think…happy thoughts.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Changmin said through clenched teeth. He didn’t dress that badly…did he?

Yunho rested his cheek on his hand, contemplating the prince thoughtfully. “Let me put this as gently as I possibly can—you look like a lumberjack half the time, and when you don’t, you look like one of my zombies.”

Frowning, Changmin examined what he chose to wear that morning. Flannel shirt. Jeans. Work boots. “I wear this kind of stuff all the time,” he mumbled, picking at his white undershirt. The elves certainly said nothing to him about his style, and neither did the realm rulers. “And as for my bad hair days, need I remind you that I work the single busiest holiday of the year—”

“Here.” A magazine flew across the room, landing at Changmin’s feet. “That’s called a catalog. Look through it and find some outfits.” Suddenly, the most horrible screeching sound filled the room; Changmin yelped and plugged his ears as Yunho heaved a sigh. “Oh, now what?”

A piece of rolled parchment popped into thin air, held by an overly large black bat from which the same came. He tapped the creature on the head and it closed its mouth, swaying as it hung from Yunho’s hand. “Oh. Hello, Xu. What do they want now? My court advisors,” Yunho added at Changmin’s confused expression. “They have a penchant for dramatic actions.”

I wonder why. Changmin’s curiosity piqued and he moved toward Yunho, hoping they had not sent truly bad news. Yunho’s eyes soared down the page, and as he read, Changmin saw his expression sour and become guarded. The king ended it with a sound of irritation and the parchment into Changmin’s hand.

~

Sire,
We regretfully must inform you that Mr. Oogie Boogie came this morning to collect on some debts that were owed to him by a knight. As the knight was in your company at the council session, we had to deny him entrance to your manor. Understandably infuriated, Mr. Boogie then proceeded to vent his anger on the staff tending to the garden. No one was injured, but unfortunately we could not spare the garden and its flora. As a great deal of damage was still done to the manor, and there is the matter of tracking Mr. Boogie down, an emergency town hall meeting was held, and the town believes it best that you return quickly.

Yours truly,
(The signature was illegible)
First Advisor to His Majesty, the Nightmare King

~

When Changmin finally reached the end of the letter, he tried to sound amused. “Well…that’s not too bad. I mean, from his reputation, that Oogie Boogie guy could have done much worse, right?” He looked up; Yunho had disappeared. “What the…where…?”

“Changing,” Yunho called from behind his door. In seconds, he reappeared, and Changmin’s throat tightened; the king had replaced his night clothes with his signature leather pants and a dark blue button-down that was obscured by a duster. Yunho hastily buttoned his jacket and fixed Changmin with a questioning stare. “Stop gaping and come on.”

“Oh, you want me to come along?” the prince squeaked, mentally chastising him for having uttered in such a way.

The king stopped pulling his boots on, narrowing his eyes. “Did you not have something important to tell me? You woke me up at an insane hour of the morning. I assume it’s something rather pressing.” He didn’t wait for Changmin to reply—before Changmin knew it, Yunho stepped around him and was out the door. The prince scrambled after him a second later, hoping the council would not call a meeting while they were out.

The advisors had not been lying; when Yunho burst through the gate to his private garden—Changmin hanging back, impressed by the sheer size of the manor that stood in front of him and in awe of all the Gothic style architecture—he met a disaster area. Broken clay pots lay scattered, roots from some shrubs stuck out of the ground, and destroyed flowers covered what wasn’t obscured by dirt.

But the king only had eyes for a tiny section; Changmin quietly greeted the stout imp advisor as Yunho crossed the patch of earth and knelt down, fingers reaching for a flash of silver. A rose petal, he realized.

Yunho spoke in a quiet voice. “When I find him, I will make him regret ever stepping foot into this place.”

Changmin almost gasped. But of course he had a dangerous side to him; he was, after all, the man who ran and ruled the scariest day of the year. They were just flowers, though. Easily replaced and cheap to grow. “Does this really merit a death sentence? Gardens can come back if you replant them.”

The imp advisor violently shook his head and made wild gestures as the king turned his head to Changmin. Yunho regarded him for a moment. “Not my roses,” he said at last. “Yes, I can grow whatever the hell I want in a patch of dirt, but it will not be the same garden that was once here.” He opened his hand, displaying the rose petal. It was very beautiful, soft and shining in the king’s palm. “This belong to a rose bush that has been growing here since my father proposed to my mother a long time ago.”

Oh no.

“Do you understand, little prince? It is the meaning behind having my garden.” Changmin hated the expression on his face. He never imagined the king could be anything other than playful and mischievous, but there he crouched, sorrow and loss having taken their places. “I had nothing left from their memories, save for what I remember and my moonlight roses. Oogie Boogie does not respect the idea of a living memory kept out of love, and so I will teach him in the only way he can respect. That is why I am mad, and that is why I won’t rest until I punish him for this.”

He really didn’t know what to say. If they were roses planted by his father, there was no way to replace the roses. “I’m sorry, Yunho.”

“You were not the one to destroy my garden, Changmin. But thank you.”

They stood in silence, Yunho’s sad eyes cast toward the ground where his roses must have flourished, and Changmin staring stonily away. His earlier fluster seemed like a faraway thing. Now’s not the time to ask him on a date. He needs to do what he has to and recover from this. He would have been equally hurt and furious if one of his own people had come to his palace to destroy a memento of his parents’.

“Go back to the council,” Yunho muttered, fingers closing around the sole petal he had found. “Tell them I will be along shortly. I need some time to myself, but I understand that there are matters at hand we must all attend to.”

“Of course.” Changmin nodded at the imp advisor and made to back out of the gate, but he glanced back at Yunho once. His head was bowed, and his hands had fallen to his sides. A few tears slid down his nose, spattering onto the soil, but when Changmin blinked they had disappeared.

Changmin did not look up at the first knock on his suite door. Nor did he acknowledge the second. So buried was he in the newest version of the Nice List that he still didn’t rise when the third knock came. Luckily, one of his elves had accompanied him back to his room, and quickly scampered across the room. “Yes?” she trilled, and he still kept his head down. “Oh, my!”

He finally raised his eyes and nearly had a heart attack. “What are you doing here?”

Yunho stood serenely in the hall, hands folded neatly at his waist. Truly, he was a beautiful man, with that strange color of hair falling into his eyes and the clothing that only he could pull off. “Forgive the intrusion,” he began, flashing a brilliant smile at the elf (who now looked dazed and giggled). “But I wish to speak with the Winter Prince alone.”

She looked back at Changmin, who shrugged, still in shock. Once she had gone, Yunho made himself at home on the sofa, but his eyes stayed on Changmin. “Nice room.”

“Identical to yours, but yes…I suppose it’s nice.”

“Mm. It’s brighter in here somehow.” Yunho twisted around in his seat, trying to take everything in. “I don’t know why, but I pictured it being encased in ice.”

Changmin groaned. And so does everyone else. “What do you want?” It was not supposed to come out so weary. He enjoyed the king’s presence and company—but the Lists always demanded his attention, for if he made an error, a child could go without a gift deserved.

“I wanted to thank you for accompanying me to Halloweentown today. You didn’t have to go, but I could tell you worried about me, so I invited you along to show you that everything was in order.”

“Okay, but it wasn’t in order. You said so yourself.” He hesitated. “Yunho, you were on your knees for some flowers because your father planted them for your mother. You loved your parents dearly, and it showed today. A lot of the rulers will convince you that they’re glad they’re in power, but all of them are there for a reason—because their parents are no longer with them.”

“Except for Valentino.”

“You know what I mean.”

Yunho laughed humorlessly. “Yes, I know what you mean. I may be the newest ruler among you lot, but I know what being king means. It means that my father has faded away from existence, to a place I cannot follow.” His voice broke on the last word, and Changmin nearly rose from his armchair. Tears gathered at the corner of Yunho’s eyes, and he hastily brushed them away. “Useless…crying won’t bring them back. Nothing will. But at least I had the roses. Now I don’t.”

The timing could not have been more or less perfect. How do I present them? “Just a moment.” He did rise from his seat, then. Leaving the king in the parlor, he flitted into his bedroom and carefully lifted the vase from the writing desk. “I…” What could preclude such a gift? Yunho watched him search for words with a bemused expression—which cleared the instant Changmin presented the vase to him. He shoved himself off the couch, wide eyed. Changmin set the vase on the coffee table and backed up, waiting.

“There are no replacements for what was lost, but I wanted you to have them anyway.”

A dozen roses carved out of delicate ice rested on the rim of the crystal vase, the flickering sconces on the walls causing tiny white fires to dance on the surface of the flowers. Yunho’s fingertips tenderly touched one of the hard petals, and a white glow seeped from the base of the petal; the king obviously could not believe his eyes as it bloomed into a silky soft petal.

“Silver like moonlight.” Yunho slowly tore his eyes away from the roses to gaze at Changmin. “How did you…?”

“The elves know everything,” the prince chuckled, smiling. “I just pointed them in a direction and they set off to find me some. Not easy, by the way. And I naturally had to add a flare of my realm to them. It came out better than I thought it would. Of course, I had to experiment a bit. The petals kept coming out black, which okay…pretty, but not what I wanted.” He was rambling. He was nervously rambling, and he could not stop it.

Yunho still looked amazed. “Black roses?” His lips quirked upward, and he drew his fingers through the air—and a rose darker than the sky at night greeted Changmin out of nowhere. “This is my thanks, little prince. Take it.”

He simply did not know what came over him. One minute, he stared wordlessly at the very romantic gesture pinched between Yunho’s fingers; the next minute, he had flung his arms awkwardly around the king and planted a kiss on his Majesty’s startled lips.

When Yunho returned the pressure, making a tiny sound in the back of his throat, the stem of the rose brushing Changmin’s nape as Yunho’s arms went around his neck, Changmin thought he would melt on the spot. Impossible. I’m the Winter Prince. I can’t melt. It made him laugh out loud, and Yunho pulled back, looking worried. “What?”

“I’m an idiot.”

The king the side of Changmin’s face, almost shyly. “Aren’t we both?” There was no real answer to that, and if they had one, they didn’t care to hear it. Yunho leaned back in, visibly eager to teach the prince how to kiss a royal properly. This is Yunho. I’m kissing the Nightmare King. Oh, my god. He angled his head better, and Yunho’s mouth opened from his encouragement. Hands gripped the back of his shirt, and Yunho groaned again, much to Changmin’s delight.

Changmin was the one to break the kiss a second time, only with what he knew was an adorable pout on his face. “If we’re going to do this, I’m going to have to ask for you to stop with the ‘little prince’ thing. I’m a grown man, not some little teenager.”

“A third of that is false.” Yunho laid a hand flat against the small of Changmin’s back, drawing their waists together, and never before had the Winter Prince wanted to just crash into another being—maybe onto the couch, as the bedroom was much too far. “However, I will respect your wishes.” He grinned. “Besides, there’s a plethora of nicknames I can abuse that are far better.”

“Mouth moving, and not in a good way,” Changmin grumbled, drawing the king close again.