Jongin finds himself running, sunshine warm on his face and the warm breeze blowing his hair back. There’s a smile on his face that hasn’t been there in years and it feels good. Behind him, Jongdae runs to catch up with him, the stuffy outfit he’s in making his efforts harder. There are children around them laughing as they walk to the coronation ceremony, but all Jongin and Jongdae are focusing on is the freedom of being outside the palace walls. It took a while for the maids to get them up, both preferring to sleep all day, but now that they’re up, they can’t see themselves ever sleeping.

  There’s a bit of nerves bubbling at seeing their brother after years of being abandoned by him.

  Jongdae remembers snowball fights and snowmen, chocolate and staying up past when their parents told them to sleep. He remembers happiness and smiles, nights spent in his brothers room as their parents controlled trade around them. He remembers Minseok babying Jongin and sneaking Jongdae extra hot chocolate. He remember how close they were.

  Memories like to play behind his eyes at night, going along with the good ones, there’s the bad playing twice as bright. Minseok closing the door in their faces, Minseok ignoring them, Minseok pretending they didn’t exist even when they were sobbing outside his door, struggling away from the maids comforts because they wanted their brother. They wanted their brothers love and security, but all they got was a silence much colder than their parents death.

  Jongin didn’t know what to think of it all, too young to understand his feelings, but old enough to understand what being betrayed was like. He was old enough to know what loneliness was like and what it felt like to be forgotten.

  It was hard to remember what Minseok looked like sometimes.

  Jongin trips over something and Jongdae stumbles on top of him, forcing the breath out of him. “Hey,” he scolds, shoving him off, “Have you been sneaking extra beef? You weigh too much.”

  “I’m so sorry,” a voice that isn’t Jongdae’s replies, and they both look up to see two strange men leaning over them, one tan with dark hair and the other with pale skin and much lighter hair. “Are you okay?” the dark haired man offers a hand to Jongin, smiling. “Here, I’ll help you up.”

  The man next to him offers one to Jongdae and pulls him off, dusting the ruffles on his shoulders. “I hope we didn’t hurt him,” he tells him, smile blinding and a dimple appearing next to his mouth.

  “Uh, n-nope, we’re fine,” Jongin answers, pulling his hand out of the others grasp.

  “Prince Yixing of Beijing,” the light haired man bows.

  “Prince Zitao of Bejing,” the darker one introduces.

  Jongdae stumbles through his introduction, “Prince Jongdae of Seoul,” bowing a little too far and almost stumbling forwards. Yixing catches him with an easy smile. Jongin snickers as he introduces himself.

  “We had no idea we would be lucky enough to bump into the princes.”

  “Pun unintended.”

  “But it’s great we did.”

  Jongin and Jongdae stare, dumbfounded, at the men in front of them with handsome grins on their faces. They feel anxious, having contact with anyone besides their maids never happened.

  “Well, uh,” Jongdae coughs, not sure what he’s saying. “You’re attractive.” Colour spreads across his cheeks as he realizes what came out of his mouth and Jongin groans next to him. “O-oh, I-I I didn’t mean… to say that.” He shakes his head, rubbing his arm self-consciously. “N-not that you aren’t attractive. Y-you both are, I just –no wait. Pretend I never said anything. Oh, god, I did not-”

  Jongin slaps a hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. “He’s a little socially impaired, aren’t you, Jongdae?” He excuses, offering a tight smile. Bells ring in the distance. “The ceremony, the ceremony! We’re late!” He grabs his brothers hand and pulls, “Jongdae, come on!” and over his shoulder, “See you later, maybe, bye!” with Jongdae struggling to keep up with him. “You’re so stupid!” Jongin scolds when they make it back to the palace, walking through the corridors. “They think we’re weird.”

  “We’re princes,” Jongdae grumbles, “Who cares if they think we’re weird.” He gets a look from Jongin and throws his arms up, “Okay, I care if they think we’re weird! But, I mean,” he sighs, “It’s not like we’ll see them again.”

  “Who knows,” Jongin smiles, patting his back, “Maybe Minseok will leave the gates open and we can see them more.”

  Minseok’s hands feel numb but they’re frozen to the touch and he’s shivering; just not in the cold. The cold has no effect on him, he’s shaking because he’s scared. Behind the doors, his people are waiting to see him for the first time in years. Behind the doors are all his fears for the past –how many has it been?- years. He doesn’t know if he can do this, but he has to. He has to take care of the kingdom for his father.

  The doors are opened by the guards, and he sees everyone. All his citizens and knights and nobles from their trading partners are sitting in the pews and watching as he makes his way forward, eyes focused in front of him. There are whispers around him, words about him and he shivers, wanting it to all be over.

  Jongin and Jongdae run in from the other door, bowing at the audience as they take their positions across the stage from him. His heart aches. They’ve grown so much without him being able to see, without him being able to help.

  He stands in front of the priest, hands clasped tightly in front of him and chin held high because it’s only for today, only a few more hours, until he can retire back to his room.

  But for now he smiles at the crowd and takes the goblet of wine handed towards him and raises it to the air, towards the people, and smiles, bright flash going off in front of him for the photo that will go next to his fathers from the same ceremony when he was crowned king. He bows his head, crown being placed on his head and he rises, turns to the crowd to bow to them as the priest says, “I present to you, King Minseok, Prince Jongdae, and Prince Jongin of Seoul.” The crowd stands, clapping, as two people nudge Jongin and Jongdae closer to him for more photos. They both scoot away, and Minseok feels his heart sinking.

  Minseok loses sight of Jongin and Jongdae once they gather into the ball room, something he hasn’t been in since he zapped Jongin and almost killed him. The room brings back memories that make him cringe, but there are people offering him pies and cakes and he has to politely point them towards the gifts’ lady to accept them into a pile that will go to the orphanage his mother opened a month before she died. 

  He’s directed to the front of the ball room by one of the maids, in front of the kings chair, and Jongin and Jongdae are placed to stand next to him, looking awkward and distant by him. “Your King, and Princes,” a guard announces, and the people cheer, music starting and everyone grabbing each other to dance.

  Jongin scuffs his shoe on the floor, scratching his arm, and Jongdae rubs the back of his neck, scanning the audience.

  “Hey,” Minseok breathes, startling them from their stupor, a small smile on his face. “Hey.”

  “U-us?” Jongin squeaks, and when Minseok nods, they both nod back, mumbling weak, “hi”s back to him.

  “You’ve grown,” he addresses them both, smile larger and his chest suddenly feeling warm. “You guys look great.”

  Jongdae squawks at him, mouth agape until Jongin elbows him. “Uh, so do you,” Jongin tells him, and Jongdae clumsily adds, “You’re bigger.”

  His eyes widen, “Wait, wait, I didn’t mean that,” he rushes to correct himself, a hand over his mouth and shaking his head. “I mean, more grown, n-not bigger. N-not that you aren’t bigger. You are, but. No, not, big like, fat, but. O-older.”

  “Thank you,” Minseok replies, and turns back to the crowd. He takes a few steps closer to them. “I never knew what a party looked like. Is it everything you’ve dreamed it to be?”

  “And more,” Jongin answers, a smile creeping onto his lips and Minseok begins to feel more confident about the throng of people invading his palace. “I didn’t know there were this many people we were associated with.”

  Jongdae nods, his smile much larger than both of theirs and Minseok briefly remembers that Jongdae had always been the more innocent of the three, the most happy and friendly. “And the cake. Did you see the cake? It looked like-”

  “Chocolate,” they finish together, and Jongin grabs onto his arm to laugh.

  “This is fun,” Jongin tells him, smiling. “I like the gates open.”

  “Me too,” Minseok agrees, smile faltering.

  “I wish it could be like this all the time,” Jongdae whispers, and Minseok hurts. His brothers don’t deserve this. They don’t deserve being locked up all their lives like him. It’s not fair.

  But. “I’m sorry.”

  It takes .02 seconds for Jongdae’s face to fall, Jongin’s to harden, and Minseok’s heart to crumple. The emotions play across their faces like a movie and Minseok feels guilty, very guilty, but he can’t do anything about it. The gates have to stay closed until he learns to control his gift. It’s for the best. “Guys, I’m-I’m sorry. But the gates. They’re to be remained closed after this.”

  Jongin pulls on Jongdae’s sleeve, and with a glance over his shoulder offers, “Excuse us.”

  Before he can call after them, a face fills his vision. “Park Chanyeol of Weaslton, your biggest trading partner.” The man is tall and Minseok notes the way his eye twitches when he smiles. “And as your biggest trading partner, I insist I have to be your first dance.”

  Minseok watches Jongin and Jongdae leave the ball room, two unfamiliar men following behind him. “It’s nice to meet you, Chanyeol. But, I, I don’t dance. Perhaps one of the other trading companies would rather dance?”

  “But I must insist,” Chanyeol grabs onto his arm, pulling him down a step. “We have to dance. It’s only natural for us to.”

  “Sir,” Minseok grounds himself, teeth clenching as he feels his body react to the unfamiliar hands touching him, his powers making his fingers twitch under his gloves. “I really can’t. I’m sorry. Please, find someone else.”