The stress of the week must have tired Yeonhee out, because she woke up much later than usual on Sunday morning to discover that she’d slept through her alarm as well as a call and a text from the prince.  The timestamp from the call was a good half hour or so before the text, and even that was the best part of an hour ago now.

Mum just checked on you because we were worried we hadn’t seen you, but she said you looked shattered even in your sleep and so she left you to rest.  If you’re up before lunch I’ll either be on the living room balcony or in my office.  Help yourself to breakfast in the parlour x

Bleary-eyed, Yeonhee squinted at the screen for several moments.  Something about the text felt a little out of the ordinary, but it wasn’t until she’d yawned some oxygen into her brain that she realised it was the first time he’d ever signed off any kind of correspondence between them with a kiss.  A slow smile spread across her face and she had to bite back an excited squeal.

As if to supplement the good mood she was starting the day with, a bright, sunny morning greeted her when she drew back the curtains.  She stayed in the breakfast parlour long enough to eat some toast and clear away her dishes, and then went in search of the prince, hoping that he wouldn’t be in his office because that meant he had work he needed to do, and it was such a lovely day that she was much more keen on the idea of getting outside, perhaps setting up an easel somewhere near the lake and doing a bit of landscape painting.

To her relief, he wasn’t, and so she headed back upstairs.  She’d been aware somewhere in the back of her mind that a number of the rooms on the upper levels of the palace had balconies, but she’d never seen them being used before and had always assumed they were ornamental.  Music was playing as she approached the living room, and  she couldn’t help her smile spreading.  Apart from when she’d played him stuff from The Rolls and when he’d been teaching her to dance, she could count the number of occasions on one hand that she’d known Yixing to feel he could switch off from his work long enough to kick back and put on some music.  Outside rock (courtesy of Baekhyun) Yeonhee was terrible at identifying music genres, but she felt relatively confident labelling whatever Yixing was listening to as acoustic, because she could only hear a guitar and a light male voice singing along, though she was unable to make out any words until she got to the open balcony door and stepped out into the sunlight.

The first thing she noticed was that the balcony was significantly bigger than she’d thought, and that it commanded a magnificent view over the palace grounds, but she was distracted from that the second she searched out the prince, intending to comment on their vantage point over the lovely day, only to realise to her absolute enchantment that the music wasn’t a recording: sitting in a wicker chair with his legs crossed and his eyes closed, Yixing was singing softly along as his fingers shifted over the frets and danced around the strings over the sound hole.  Yeonhee held very still, hardly even daring to breath in case it broke the spell.  She didn’t think she’d ever seen him look quite so relaxed and carefree in the entire time she’d known him, not even when they’d played hide and seek the day he’d first kissed her.  It stripped away the extra years his status and the weight of his work so often burdened him with: for once, he really did look like a young man in his early twenties (an extremely attractive young man in his early twenties, Yeonhee’s mind corrected her), but not the vulnerable young man almost crushed by fear or anxiety or grief that Yeonhee had seen before.  Almost like the moment when she’d realised she had a crush on him that was far beyond rescue, Yeonhee felt a huge surge of affection for him.  She wished he could see himself like this, how much good it did him.  She almost wished the entire country could see him like this, because how could anybody possibly dislike somebody who radiated such peace and contentment?  But at the same time, she very much liked that she was the only person privy to it, because it was special, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Yixing stumbled over a broken chord and the spell was abruptly broken as he leant forward, opening his eyes to frown as he attempted to correct it, and then looked up once he’d got it right the second time round.  He jumped so violently when he saw Yeonhee that the wicker chair screeched back a couple of inches.

“Oh my God,” he said, placing a hand over his heart.  “You scared me.”

A little sad that he’d returned to reality, Yeonhee sat herself down in the nearest chair to him.

“I completely forgot you played,” she said softly.

He scratched bashfully at the back of his head.  “I’m no way near as good as any of your friends.”

Yeonhee opened to refute that, but before she could, he set the guitar aside and sat back.

“To be honest,” he said, “I haven’t played since the prime minister was shot.  There was loads to do even before the stuff with Dad happened, and after that there was so much more I had to take on that I didn’t feel I could allow myself the time.  And I also lost motivation.  Dad thought the guitar was bad for my image, but it didn’t stop him from having a sing-a-long every so often.”  He smiled wistfully as he looked out over the view.  “The only thing I’ve really allowed myself over the past few months has been time with you.”  He glanced over at her briefly before giving a little laugh.  “You know, it’s kind of funny.  Your dad told me yesterday after I’d explained what my schedule was like to him that it sounded like I was burning out and needed to look after myself better.  I made the mistake of complaining to Sehun about it last night and he just texted back with a picture of the apology letter I wrote him.”

Yeonhee couldn’t help laughing at that either.  That was a totally Sehun response.

“I’m surprised he didn’t also tell you you’re only being paid a certain number of hours and don’t have any obligation to go beyond that.”

“Oh no, he did that too.”  Smiling broadly, Yixing shook his head.  “Though it was accompanied by something to the effect of him being certain it would be impossible to get any kind of government to vote for a pay rise for a king or regent because it would be difficult to get the idea of paying the royals for overtime past the public.  He also threatened to burn the palace down if I don’t take a full day off at least once a week.  I woke up to thirty different studies he’d sent me on the psychological and physical health benefits of the weekend.”

Yeonhee cringed.  “I apologise on his behalf.”

“Don’t.  I think it’s hilarious.”

It did surprise Yeonhee a little that Yixing and Sehun were close enough already for Yixing to have made him a confidante when it came to his personal life, but then again, once Sehun decided he wanted to take somebody’s side or be their friend, he had a habit of sweeping them under his wing.  Yeonhee suspected Sehun had got one look at Yixing’s schedule and practically had steam blowing out of his ears at how hectic it was.

“To be fair,” Yixing mused, “it’s only because of Sehun I have time on my hands at all, so I guess I owe it to him to do what he says during it.  He went absolutely ballistic when he was over here last Wednesday and saw how much stuff I had in my diary.  I actually think Luhan’s a bit scared of him.  He talked the other ministers into giving him security clearance and Thursday morning shows up to cart off three of the stacks of government paperwork to look through for me.  I don’t know where you found him, but well done: he’s fantastic.”

Yeonhee gaped.  Now he mentioned it, she’d barely seen Sehun since Wednesday afternoon.  He’d shown up to support her when she stepped down from the republicans and he’d joined them for lunch on Friday, but that was it.

“I’m just a bit worried his grades are going to drop with all this extra work he’s taking on,” said Yixing.

“Sehun wouldn’t sacrifice himself like that,” Yeonhee assured him.  “Besides, all the