Joonmyun strides with familiar disregard past the official double doors leading to the inner Palace, pushing open the heavy oak blocking off the waiting room, before immediately slipping through a small corridor leading out of one corner. The hidden partition slides open, apparently upon its own volition, revealing a young boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen years in age who gestures wordlessly down the passage that is revealed. The boy doesn’t look up, nor does he turn around, but anyone who had known Joonmyun as a child in the Palace would recognise the clone’s smooth gait and sharp profile.

More than a little disconcerted by the multiple clones of his younger self, Joonmyun almost collides into the glass wall separating the King’s plant nursery from the rest of the building, coming back to himself just in time to catch the fade back into the rapidly disappearing passage.

With no explicit position to announce, and no instructions to follow, Joonmyun steps into the King’s nursery at his own discretion instead of following protocol and waiting around the undecorated entrance like a loitering buffoon. He takes a brief moment to admire the vast artificiality of this enchanted space, shimmering illusions of exotic plant life draped ceiling to floor, flourishing into a maze of dark tunnels leading towards the sun room. In his ears, the humid, unmoving air thrums with static energy.

A light cough knocks Joonmyun out of his misplaced reverie, and he turns back to meet the entirely disapproving stare of his twelve-year old self. The shock hits him like a sudden punch to the stomach before realisation comes like the air whooshing back into his lungs. It’s hard to tear his eyes away from the figure that bears each excruciating intricacy of his own form, but Joonmyun swallows and sets his sight at a point above the bouncing blonde locks before him. It feels like they’ve been walking through the leafy maze of tunnels for an eternity before he sees sparse light begin to trickle in through the fronds, uncertain and wavering, gaining in strength as they approach the carpeted exit.

his clone stops just outside the brightest circle of light, bowing towards a figure seated at its centre. Joonmyun, having lost all such inhibitions a great many years ago, merely swaggers towards the ornate chair, fingers tapping insolently on the crown of the throne, stepping back and waiting until the seated figure swivels around to face him.

Carved features held in an expression of great distaste, a half-hearted scowl affixed to his face.. The young King eyes him in discouragement.

“Joonmyun.” The King’s voice is completely deadpan, robotic, almost. Certainly no longer the condescending, cocksure boy he had been just a few years prior.

On bad days, Joonmyun feels unnaturally sympathetic towards the man. On good days, he manages to forget about him entirely.

“Yifan. Long time no see.” He tries to keep his own tone light, cordial, does his best to eliminate any traces of hostility from his posture.

“I didn’t expect an invitation to tonight’s event. To be very honest, I really didn’t expect you to contact me for another five years, at the very least. And now, to be called so suddenly into you immediate company, there must be a very large favour just waiting to be asked.”

One of the King’s hands finds its way up to his creased forehead, the other, fingers heavy with adornments, stretches, clenches tightly into the fabric of Joonmyun’s dress pants, weight dragging underneath his hip. It trembles, then stills.

Under his breath, the King is mumbling, mouth twitching jerkily as the words are forced out between stiff lips.

“Magic,” he spits, mouth slack and panting before he forces his jaw into motion again, “her magic, threaded through every one of these halls, controlling me, this War…” The veins stand out on the back of the King’s hands, and Joonmyun instinctively moves to cover them with his own, shaken by Yifan’s almost deranged animation.

“...Not me, sorcery, tricks in the dark, but I cannot move!” His form slumps suddenly, and Joonmyun catches him before raising him back against the chair. Yifan’s forehead is beaded with sweat but his eyes are hopeful. For the first time, Joonmyun notices the gnarled roots wrapped around the legs of Yifan’s throne, curling insidious and subtle, holding its occupant captive, tying him to the ground.

Maybe its a kind of erse admiration that makes him do it, but when Joonmyun leaves the nursery, it is with a promise to Yifan - a promise of his abilities and allegiance, a promise to guide Yifan’s country from the shadows, to shield his people in the dark. The repercussions of his actions hit him with the force of a freight train and the rough end to his freedom makes Joonmyun groan out loud. At the thought of Chanyeol, he puts his head into his hands. Blind, he makes the mistake of running straight into into the bulbous Secretary of State just as he exits the ballroom. Startled by the sensation of bouncing off a gelatinous wall, Joonmyun’s head shoots up, catching the inebriated gaze of the undesired official.

Swearing obscenely inside his head, Joonmyun plasters a phoney smile onto his face as the Secretary all but pulverises him into the staircase. Rancid breath blows across his cheeks as the man, utterly out of his right mind, slurs:

“You...young sir….I see such deep and painful disillusionment...within you yes, life has been so very difficult, I’m...I’m sure.” A few passers-by look on in brief amusement but none pause long enough to extricate Joonmyun from his predicament.

“You know...I have just the thing. Young people...yes you should be enjoying the life of young people. Ha. And, you! My Dear Sir, have hit the jackpot in life consultation. My wife you know, very bothersome, just some hag I was arranged into marrying in my innocent youth, ugly as a cow….”

A thick card, handsomely bordered in gold, is into Joonmyun’s hand.

“And to think, that I’d planned such an enjoyable thing...for...tomorrow. But of course...the hag is back. Early! Early! Far too early...no...such things should not be wasted. Well...fare thee well, Good Fortune…”

The Secretary rolls off and staggers away, leaving Joonmyun to slide down the staircase and massage his bruised ribs. Looking down at his acquisition, he considers the item, a payment of sorts he supposes, for a sob story well listened to.

This is how Minseok finds him a good twenty minutes later, a worried Chanyeol in tow. Pulling Joonmyun to his feet and straightening his dishevelled attire, his cousin swipes the card out of his hands (“really? again?” Joonmyun whines) before examining it at arm’s length.

The House

Noon, 12 Hours.

Minseok looks up at him with slow incredulity.

“The Travesty House!?” He hisses, sotto voce. “Is this the kind of thing you’ve been squandering your money on?”

Joonmyun holds out both palms in supplication, “No, no, someone gave it to me. Quite forcibly If I may add, but a gift is a gift, right? Whether or not it was intended for you?”

Minseok still doesn’t look impressed, but at least he doesn’t look so violent anymore.

“Well,” his cousin sniffs, “I suppose it’s better for Chen to get you than that bloated piece of man flesh who bought his services.”

This time, it’s Joonmyun who raises The Eyebrow.

“You seem pretty well acquainted with the Travesty? Chen, did you say? But that’s a hard woman to get, even for a General like you.”

Minseok huffs in exasperation. “Chen isn’t a woman. And I didn’t, I would never do that with him,  I just...we talked. The Palace gave me an opportunity once but we didn’t...do those things, okay?”

Joonmyun snorts in amusement, but sobers slightly at the hint of seriousness running through Minseok’s voice.

“Well! It’s time to be off, Chanyeol’s falling asleep on his feet.” He winks, suddenly, snapping his fingers in front of Chanyeol’s nose in an effort to rouse him from his walking stupor. Minseok steps aside as Joonmyun grabs firmly onto Chanyeol’s elbow, and he turns back to throw him his most reassuring, over the shoulder, smile. It’s acknowledged with faint amusement by his cousin before Joonmyun is sprinting across the rooftop, gathering speed and launching himself off the edge, scattering a few loose tiles in his wake.

The City looms, all bright lights and clamour beneath their feet as Joonmyun and Chanyeol race across little wisps of wind, heading home.

A/N: So the story is slowly (but surely! :D) progressing. Obviously some main pairing happening in the next chapter (and also a few side pairings too but which ones is your guess) And Kris randomly makes an appearance! Makes sense why Minseok's defending the King now but obviously this is a massive deviation from the original HMC plot :D. 

A COMMENT FOR MY SOUL ❤