“is he dead?”

“no.”

“what will you do with him?”

“it is up to the king.”

“he will listen to you.”

“perhaps.”

he wanted to press further, wanted to know if minho would be able to protect him if he were to be found out. but he was too afraid of the answer to ask the question, he’d rather wrap himself up in the warmth of hope than be forced into the cold of truth. instead he slipped his arms around minho’s waist, resting his head against his master’s chest, & listened to the thump of his heart.

the executions were public & taemin stood with eunsook in the box seating set aside for the slaves of the king’s guards. she held his hand as the man she knew only as his former prince stepped atop the same stage that her own stood upon already. they were dressed in simple garments, black tunics & trousers with bare feet, their heads shaved & their arms bound. he did not know jonghyun’s mind but he knew kibum’s & for his brother these last moments so bared down must be the highest of insults.

it was clear that they had been in some way drugged, too silent & complacent for their position upon the plank. the crowd was silent, trained to be so in the presence of the king, & the condemned men mimicked their silence with their own closed mouths.

he would wonder later just how much danger his brother understood taemin to have been put in, if he knew the kind of man jonghyun was. if he cared at all. he may not have intended that taemin would end a slave in his enemy’s bed, but it had not been a possibility that he warned taemin of or had taken steps to prevent. even discovering his brother’s position had not phased the prince at all; his thirst for revenge was greater than his regret at what taemin’s life had presumably become. would he then care if his comrade-in-arms took taemin against his will? he had risked a lot by sharing taemin’s identity with the prince. but every consequence would have fallen solely on the younger brother’s head.

for now, he stood still, his head high & his breaths even, eunsook’s soft hand in his own as the executioner, at the king’s command, moved to the center of the platform. the king sat in a box to the right of taemin, directly across the stage & at its level. the queen & her consorts sat in a box to the side while minho & jongin flanked the king. it was a bold choice for jongin to allow kibum’s execution in enemy land, a concession towards a monarchy that had defeated them in battle but who had lost just as much in a war neither leader knew they were fighting.

the king & the prince watched with stoic faces as their son & brother, respectively, were executed before their eyes. it was quick & clean & the only sounds were of birds flitting through the air that had no comprehension of what they had just witnessed. the king made a brief speech that taemin could not understand through the ringing in his ears. the threat had ended, yes, but he had never seen another person die. he was reminded of the life minho had led before him, that his master was a soldier & a warrior. he could not imagine the things minho must have witnessed in his life, the actions he must have taken, the blood that was on his hands. he gripped his fists & wondered.