It would be a lie to say the Nightmare King and the Winter Prince have always gotten along. In fact, it would be downright rude and an insult to their bickering, bantering past. You may call this a snapshot prequel of this universe.

Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Think only happy thoughts. If Changmin’s nails dug into the skin of his palm any deeper, he would draw blood. Think of a fire. Being engrossed in a novel. Marshmallows. Cute little hedgehogs. Anything, anything, anything…

What was he tapping out, anyway? Long Morse code? A song? And would it kill him to keep his bloody boots off the bloody table? Jung Yunho caught his eye and smirked; after sinking further into the chair that leaned on its back legs, he waggled his fingers in a wave, and Changmin wanted to smash them against the wall.

He was not usually this violently minded, but the Nightmare King did things no one else could to him.

You are a prince. Father would have been most furious with you if you acted on anything during a council session. Remember, you are above such behavior. And picking up another realm ruler only to throw him out of a third-story window…not the best idea. It’s a good idea, though. Changmin smiled wryly to himself. A wonderful image, as well.

And to imagine stupid Yunho—barely able to hold onto the “newest member” title—curled up in an awkward position in the bushes outside, thorns in uncomfortable places…it was only this that calmed him down and had him settling back into his chair.

Patrick held up a hand to silence the titters that broke out after his rousing speech calling for more communication between the realms. “My fellow council members, please. I understand that my reign comes at a time after so much discord has broken out between us. That is why we must refocus our efforts! We will always be proud of our individual realms, but when we work together, there’s next to nothing we cannot achieve!”

A scoff followed his words. Valentino leaned forward, his deep cherry eyes flashing as one corner of his mouth lifted. “You regard yourself rather highly for a ruler much younger than the rest. Ask those who have been here a long, long time, Patty. Working in tandem has accomplished nothing for us.”

“Because we haven’t exactly tried,” Ea argued, her pastel pink nails clicking against the polished table surface in impatience. “I have been here so much longer than you, Valentino. I remember the dark times very well. He is right. We must work on inter-realm communication if we want to bring the realms into a new era. All these secrets between us…this will not bode well!”

Changmin wanted to speak up. He did. But damn Yunho kept tapping and tapping and…

“It is a new era.” The gravelly voice of Father Time rang out, quieting them all down. Even the Nightmare King stopped his twitching and sat up straighter (or as straight as his lounging position would allow). The old man sat at the head of the table, the ends of his beard disappearing under the oak.

Long ago, the rulers had declared him as the official head of the council, but he rarely intervened, even when war broke out between them. So this interruption was enough to catch anyone’s attention. “Many of our rulers are young,” he pointed out, nodding in turn to a majority of those sat around the table. “The world is changing, and we must follow its path. Humans and their technology are on the rise. Countries across the globe cooperate and come to each other’s aid. Why must we be so different? Have I taught you nothing about time? It is like a river. Try to disrupt its flow, and you will create your own chaotic punishment.”

Ea had the decency to look ashamed, as did most of the other rulers. Patrick nodded in relief, whereas Valentino crossed his arms and scowled. I’ll eat my own reindeer if he budges one inch on this.

“It is only in our best interests that we work together and communicate on situations effectively,” Father Time continued. “This fighting, these skirmishes…they are the acts of children, and we are above that. I have faith in you all, and I know this is something we can easily achieve—”

“Beg your pardon, padre.” Yunho raised a single finger, and everyone held their breath. Changmin wanted to launch a chair at him. How dare he interrupt Father Time in such a fashion! The Nightmare King let his long legs fall back onto the marble floor. “While I don’t disagree that inter-realm agreements are a great idea, executing them will be elusive at best. I know I am very new to this ruling thing, but I am my father’s son.”

Valentino snorted while Ea rolled her eyes. “Which has yet to be seen, if you ask me.”

Yunho ignored that. “I watched from the shadows how everything is run, and leaving us to our own individual agendas has worked thus far. Advancement in technology is another story, one which I have no issue implementing in my own realm. But we are not a nation. We don’t need to work together as closely as you’re talking. We’re a group of realms that decided not to kill each other a long time ago.”

“Speak for yourself,” Changmin murmured under his breath. “Not a moment goes by that I don’t consider the serious ramifications of strangling you.”

Groans echoed all around the circle of rulers; Father Time closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as Yunho slowly turned toward Changmin, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Want to say that louder, Pouty Claus? Don’t think I heard that quite clearly.”

Changmin matched him smile for smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forget you have cobwebs in your ear canals.”

“Sorry, didn’t catch that either. You know, it’s a funny thing, but I swear every time you open your mouth, nothing but hot air comes out. I’d get that checked if I were you. At this rate, you may actually melt some elements of your own realm.”

“No, really. I can invest in a blowhorn for your sake. Or a megaphone. Which works best for you?”

Yunho crossed one booted foot over the other, still the picture of complete ease. “Never mind. I just had to tune my mind to ‘pompous, spoiled brat speak.’ Now I can hear you loud and clear.”

The minute the smile disappeared off Changmin’s face, Ea cleared loudly. “I strongly recommend that we end this session before one of those skirmishes mentioned occurs here.” As she was the discussion leader for this session, she had the authority to do so. “We will reconvene at a future date, which shall be agreed upon via email. One of the Spark Sisters will lead the next discussion, as per the flow of time for the year.”

Blamma, Flamma, and Flare chattered excitedly, no doubt trying to decide who would receive the honorable position instead of the others. Changmin decided to let that last comment pass without incident, which did not please Yunho. The Nightmare King said something in a whisper, winking at the Winter Prince; almost immediately, frost crept across the table, and Patrick actually shoved himself off his chair to get away from it. The gavel could not have come down faster; Changmin’s iciness melted away, and they all wished each other farewell before scurrying off.

The prince glared down at the still seated king, who met his gaze with amusement. “You call yourself your father’s son, but you have yet to prove to any of us that you are worthy of such a thing.”

Yunho’s eyes narrowed so slightly, though the grin remained on his beautiful face—but Ea had watched him grow up. She knew how deeply he had been affected by his father’s passing. He was very proud of being the son of one of the greatest Nightmare Kings they ever had; Changmin’s remark was a low blow.

“Best of luck on Easter productions,” Changmin said to Ea as he gathered his bag and coat. “I’ll drop by when I can.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she responded, squeezing his arm in a friendly gesture. He allowed her one small smile before avoiding Yunho’s gaze and exiting the room. “I wouldn’t…” But of course he would. “Oh, dear.” Ea frowned as she watched Yunho slip out of the conference room after the seething Winter Prince. “One day, you are going to step too far and break that boy’s heart.”

She didn’t know to which of them she referred.

Changmin had already reached for the handle of his realm’s door when he heard Yunho call after him. “Walk away,” he hissed at himself. “He’s here to start something with you. You only need to walk away and magically seal the door behind you. There’s going to be consequences, but it’s all stuff you’ve dealt with before. Just…walk…away.”

Yunho yelled again. “McStrangler! Wait a moment.”

“If you even dare to add that onto my list of nicknames,” Changmin warned him, putting every ounce of venom he had into his words—but Yunho paid it no mind.

“Leaving so soon? And just after we finally had a bit of fun!” Yunho blocked his access to the Holiday Door, leaning against the wood with his hands in his duster pockets. Damn him. Damn him to the deepest, darkest pits of who knows what. He stands there, in his leather pants and hideously long shirt, all casual elegance and disrespect for any authority, disrespect for the realms, for the world itself—and damn him for being attractive and knowing full well that he is. “Consider this an apology. Things can be so dull at the meetings. I do try to liven it up once in a while. It’s unfortunate that I’m surrounded by a bunch of old fogies who only long to go back to playing solitaire and complaining about the youth of today, but that’s my reality.”

And then there’s the stupid way he talks. It aggravates me so much. “I’m sorry, but who was just advocating for keeping the realms separate because we have no need to be so modern?”

“You know, after that hit below the belt about my father, you should show some decorum. Aren’t you out to prove how much better you are at this ruler thing than me? But it’s nice to know I can get under the Winter Prince’s skin.” He cocked his head to the side. “I mean, I didn’t even know my existence makes you so mad! Do you often fantasize about killing me?”

“Ghost boy, you are by far the most difficult conversation partner anyone could ever have. How do you expect me to keep up with your train of thought when it jumps from A to F to P to B?”

“I didn’t detect any denial in that exclamation.” Yunho pushed off the door and stalked forward; Changmin scrambled back, afraid he would strike out. “Answer me, prince. It sounds like you fantasize about me a lot—yes or no?”

“…you…I…they’re bad thoughts!” he stammered, hating how a flush started to creep up the back of his neck. No, he was not going to play this game. He could find the king attractive. He would not become infatuated with him. No. Never. No.

His clarification did not wipe the smirk off Yunho’s face. “But you have thoughts. That’s a positive thing in my eyes.” He was much too close. “You think about me a lot. I piss you off every other day, so I assume it’s a lot.” Much too close; his fingers touched the collar of Changmin’s winter coat and gave it a little tug. “Who’s to say I won’t influence those thoughts into something more ?”

“In your dreams.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” They were so close. Changmin could see tiny flecks and details in Yunho’s eyes, and count the lashes that brushed those sculpted cheekbones when he blinked. And his eyes! They were such a lovely color. “Do you want me to dream about you, prince?”

“I…”

Yunho’s fingertips traced his cheek, and then they were only a breath apart. Changmin could not move, could not think. Their foreheads touched, and Yunho had that easy-going grin on his face. He was close enough to kiss, and Changmin was torn between yanking him forward and shoving him away.

“Then don’t use my father’s legacy to get a rise out of me.”

Changmin’s head snapped to the side, and the sound of the slap echoed in the hallway. He wouldn’t be surprised if nail crescents were etched in his skin. Yunho’s grin was nowhere to be seen as he stepped around Changmin and headed to his own door.

The prince watched him for a few seconds, rubbing his cheek while frowning. There would be an angry red mark there tomorrow. Never in all his time as a prince under his parents—and then a ruler of his realm—had anyone laid a hand on him, let alone hit him. But something in all their words bothered him. Amidst the quips and snide comments, Yunho had called him a pompous, spoiled brat—and it aggravated him because he could think of nothing to refute that claim.

Yunho had one foot in his doorway when the words tumbled awkwardly out of Changmin’s mouth. “I’m sorry.” The Nightmare King paused, head halfway turned over his shoulder. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

Their eyes met again. The king was back to his carefree smile as he said, “Don’t make me your enemy, Shim Changmin. You are too handsome and too intriguing of a creature to be on my list.” He winked. “I hope you enjoy your fantasies of me, Frosty.”

“I don’t…oh, screw you,” he sighed, giving up.

“Please and thank you, but another time, I am afraid. I feel we should experience more time with each other and do the dating thing before we try to get into each other’s pants.” Yunho gave him a mock bow. “Until then, my sweet prince. Don’t get frostbitten by your own anger issues.”