I'm feeling very self-accomplished right now. Very accomplished. 

Very. 

I've always had this kind of talent of guessing people's names. Names are identities. If you're named something at birth, then it's most likely your going ot grow up to fit the mold of what that name means to you. Your name is you. I can read people, I can read people very well. That's how I figured out his name. Simple. 

And also, there is like more than fifty Kibums is this little kingdom. There was a good chance that his name was Kibum, anyway. 

He's trailing behind me, for once his snarky attitude dropped as he picks his way through the forest. This guy, this Kibum, has been incredibly annoying, incredibly disrespectful to me from the beginning. I know he hates me, I know he can't stand me. I can deal with him, if that's what it takes. Because I have a plan. An, if I do say so myself, an ingenious plan.

A half an hour later, the castle is just ahead. After a while, I made Kibum walk in front of me. I wouldn't put it past him to try to sneak off, so I want to keep him where I can see him. Kibum has his jaw set, his cat-like eyes narrowed and angry, but I'm enjoying this, this power I have over this one that mocked me. I don't want him to run away, so I'm going to have to bring him wherever I go before the crowning, which I know is in the temple. 

I can just say that he's a friend of mine. The guards or anyone shouldn't question me, anyway. I am the royal family now, and almost the king. What I say goes. What I say should go.

As we draw closer to the castle, the roads become more trafficked, and I have to hide my head in my hood. I don't want anyone to recognize me, because then rumors would spread about the prince being on the streets a half an hour before his crowning, and I don't want that. So I half lead the way, Kibum falling into pace next to me, his chin raised, daring anyone to meet his dark eyes. Most stepped out of our way, quickly. An assassin has that way with people, even if they don't know he's an assassin.

I can see Kibum's lips twist in annoyance at this whole thing, and I remember the feeling of his lips on mine. I can't seem to get it out of my head. I want to though. I really do. 

Falling into line with a group of people, we managed to get past the guards without them blinking an eye. I hurried ahead once we got in the gardens, wanting to find the door before the people, probably servants, got in eyesight. I dragged Kibum with me, keeping a firm hand on his wrist, but his attitude made it clear he could easily break free ad run, but he didn't. 

Taking out a key from my pocket, I slid it into the lock, looked around to make sure no one saw us, cracked open the door, and shoved Kibum in, then slipped in myself and locked the door behind me. Following a small passageway, barely lit, Kibum opened the door first, letting in streaming light as he straightened. I closed the door behind us, straightening up. Kibum half turned to me, a smirk on his lips.

"Secret passageway to the prince's rooms? Not very safe," he commented, wandering across the room to trace a fighter through the dust on the mantel, and I scowled, more upset about the fact that dust is in my rooms than anything. I cross the room, remembering to drape a curtain back over the door as I closed and locked it.

"We only have a few minutes until the crowning," I tell Kibum, and the only sign that he heard me was a quick raise of an eyebrow, but nothing more.

~~~

The bell rings once, twice, and I feel the vibration in my skull as I kneel, head down, in front of the alter. I know people are behind me, inportnat peopel seating in the benches of the temple. I know Kibum is here, his clothes changed, his hair combed, so even though his ears are pierced with metal and his lean, muscled frame is much too thin, his eyes too dark and too clever and too sharp, he looks enough like he belongs. If he looked closer, though, at the feline like boy in the back row, you'd see how his muscles are ready, you'd see a hand reaching up inside his sleeve to finger a small knife he insisted he needed. You'd see how much he hates this, how much he doesn't belong here, with the walls washed white and the windows mottled colors of the rainbow, more exve than anything he's seen his whole life put together. 

The prist rings the bell again, and I know I have to stand up and I do. It's almost the end. I've gotten through the wishing, the mourning, the predicting, the blessing, etc, etc, without simply collapsing with boredom. I'm very proud of myself for that.

"Kim Jonghyun, the King," the prist booms out, his deep voice echoing around the temple, and behind me, I hear the rustle of fabric, as the onlookers fall to their knees. I can image the look on Kibum's face as he's forced to bow to me, and I barely keep a smile off my face.

The prist turns to me, and in a quiet voice that only I can hear, he says "Your Highness, you did not inform us of your plans for a queen, or king. If you have decided, then you must speak now. It would only be right, Your Highness, if they are to be named today."

"Ah, yes, Prist, I have. He's the blond boy in the last row to the left," I confide, and I see the Prist looking over my shoulder, searching the people until his eyes rest on one. 

"The blond with the blue, Your Highness?" 

"Yes, his name is Kibum," I confirm, and as the Prist nods, steps back, and annouces to the room that they can straighten, I let the host of a smile flit momentarily on my face. I know Kibum's worst nightmare, and now, it's going to come true. 

"The Prince has decided on his chosen king. Kibum, please come forward." When Kibum doesn't move, the Prist beckons him, a knowing smile on his face, like the King's chosen one was just nervous. With a tight, but somehow knowing look on his face, Kibum gets up, and walks up the aisle. Every single one of his movements are graceful, purposeful, somehow unconsciously drawing the eyes of everyone in the temple, including me. 

But then he's up, climbing the two little steps, and he stares into my eyes, and in his eyes are everything he isn't telling the onlookers; his fury, his anger, and, the one I hate most and the one that puzzles me the most, is pity. Pity. Why would he pity me?

Then the Prist does some ceremony, about crowns and royal blood and joining, but I'm not really listening. All I can focus on are his eyes, adm how blackened they are by anger, and something darker. Hate. 

And then the Prist annouces something, but I can't hear anymore, I can only see Kibum's eyes, his dark eyes. And then, the Prist says something about kings and official and meditating, and then the people leave, and the Prist leaves. 

And we are alone, and Kibum looks at me, and his rage isn't contained anymore; it's wild, it's untamed and it's him, and he looks at me, with those dark eyes. And he opens his mouth, and the self-congratulating feeling that I have for subjecting this guy this guy that I don't know what I feel about him but I certainly don't like him, starts to vanish. 

"What the hell?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*note: Sorry if it says Rated M, as you can read, it's not smt or anything.... It's just being stupid so totally ignore it if its there

Hi!!!! Yeah... It's been a while. It's just I was busy... And then I had a really bad writers block for this fanfic.... But Im back!!! Yayyyy!!!!!! *gives everyone cookies*

And OMGUXNGJSGNDJGNDJT  50 SUBBIES GUYS I LOVE YOU

So..... Evil Jonghyun... Yeah....

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