The doors to the Grand Hall flung open as the steward announced the entrance of the Prince. The son of the King, dressed in glorious robes second only to the ruler, paced in with his little entourage of two servants tailing behind him as the orchestra continued to chime. He scanned the crowd from under his silver circlet, noting that all the important men of King’s Court were gathered right before his eyes. People who had been dancing, feasting, or engaging in small conversations had stopped momentarily to bow as he passed. In return, the Prince bowed gracefully with all the dignity and regality as expected of a royal. He did not, however ceremonious his gestures were, lose focus of who and what he was walking towards — the throne, where his father, the King, and his Queen were sitting.

 

“Father, my King,” he bowed a final time as he reached the elevated dais. His servants bowed even lower.

 

“I see that you here, my son,” the King spoke, “join me."

 

The Prince turned slightly to the Queen and bowed without saying anything before he ascended the steps to take the empty seat beside the King. “How have you been?"

 

“I am well, I have just returned from the royal cemet-“ the Prince replied, only to be stopped by the King’s hand.

 

“All of Ganghan will be in merriment this day,” the Crown stood up and announced to the masses before him, “for this is the day our kingdom has expanded its borders again with the defeat of the Sokgong and Gilla lands. We have become mightier!"

 

The crowds exploded in applause as the orchestra dived straight into joyous music. The people of King’s Court went back to their rejoicing. The King sat back down, and when he was sure the crowd was well occupied, he turned towards his son and said, “we will not talk about the royal cemetery here."

 

“You weren’t there for the encasement of his casket, father,” the Prince replied. Instantly, the monarch frowned, sending thrills down the spines of the servants that stood around them.

 

“I have a kingdom ball to run,” the King responded. “Do you think the King has time for such matters?"

 

“But he is your son,” the Prince replied, leaning towards the throne from his seat just a pace behind to look into his father’s eyes.

 

“He was,” the King said darkly, “but now all I’m left with is you."

 

The Prince moved back, hurt flashing across his eyes, “but, father."

 

“This is Ganghan. I am the King. The seat you are sitting in is for the heir, the second-to-the-throne, which was originally meant for your brother. Today Ganghan celebrates, and if you will not join the kingdom’s bask in festivity,” the King hissed softly enough for just his son to hear, "then you are officially excused to your chambers, Jung Min."

 

__________________________________________

 

The doors flung open again, but this time into the Prince’s chambers. The servants within jumped a little at the royal entrance, but quickly finished their duties before scurrying off. The Prince would have stomped right in if the strict castle rules and etiquette weren’t already part of his blood. Nevertheless his footsteps were measurably heavy as he ripped the rings off his fingers and lightly threw them onto the desk with a series of clinks.

 

Flopping down onto one of the ostentatious couches, he removed his circlet and ran a hand through his red hair frustratedly. One of the two servants who were with him in the grand hall immediately approached him with brewed tea. The other one wasted no time to take the circlet from his master’s hands before bowing and walking away.

 

“What is the meaning of royalty when a father can’t even bury his dead son,” the Prince said bitterly. 

 

“The King must have his reasons, Your Highness,” the servant who came with the tea replied simply, “you have been out and about for an entire day, let us help you rest, Sire."

 

The Prince sighed, “I told you never to call me that within these walls, Hyun Joong. But carry on with whatever you have planned."

 

The servant smiled as the other one returned with a golden basin that he sat before his master. The one named Hyun Joong then proceeded to remove Jung Min’s slippers to wash his feet. The other servant returned to his spot behind the Prince and started to massage his shoulders. The royal heir exhales softly when he felt the knots under his muscles being undone.

 

“What’s on my schedule tomorrow?"

 

“The Duke is visiting. The Queen requests audience with you and Princess Gyuri tomorrow for a morning meal," the servant reported, hands lightly rubbing against the royal’s feet. “We can have your supper arranged here, should you feel too spent after the day."

 

“Yes, I’d like that very much,” the Prince sighed as Hyun Joong started to dry his feet, “but why is the Duke visiting? What business does he have?"

 

“It is not our place to know that, Sir."

 

“I don’t trust him,” Jung Min said darkly, “and I’ve said to never call me that, yes?"

 

The servant bowed apologetically before standing up with the golden basin in his hands, “is there anything I can get you, or would you like to have something to eat before you retire?"

 

“No, I’m fine,” the Prince waved his hand, “thank you for your service, Hyun Joong, you're dismissed. I’ll see you tomorrow."

 

“Rest well, Jung Min,” he replied before exiting the chamber.

 

The royal sank back into the cushion, appreciating the pair of skilful hands that went from working at his shoulders to the back of his neck. He gently raised his own hands to catch those agile fingers, looking back at his servant for a bit before pulling the other man around the couch. The servant was taken aback, but he stopped what he was doing before he went one round around the seat to come face to face with his master.

 

“Is there anything I-“ his words were instantly cut off when the Prince roughly pulled him down onto the couch. The servant yelped softly, falling backwards until his head bounced lightly onto the plump cushions. “Your Highness…” he breathed as the Prince climbed on top of him, taking his lips in his own.

 

The servant’s eyes went wide as Jung Min cupped his face with one smooth hand, the other propping himself up, and continued to kiss him gently. There were a million reasons flashing in the servant’s mind that told him this was a wrong thing to do, that he did not deserve this and that he should not have allowed this to happen. But in that few seconds, the servant could do nothing but arch back up at the kiss and part his lips slightly at the probing of the Prince’s tongue. 

 

“I told you never to call me that,” the redhead frowned, attacking the other’s neck after awhile, leaving warm spots in its wake. “Please,” the servant could only do so much as whimper in pleasure, before he felt the Prince’s hands impatiently pushing up against the hem of his tunic. That was when he groaned in pain.

 

The Prince was startled by this groan, immediately sitting back up to look at the servant, noticing the fierce markings that stretched from his stomach to beneath the rest of his shirt. He gently pulled the fabric up to reveal more bruises and cuts scattered all over the man's chest. The servant immediately pushed his shirt back down, looking away shamefully. 

 

“What happened?” Jung Min quickly got off the older man, pulling him up in a sitting position. 

 

“Nothing, accidents happen when servants are about with their chores,” the other replied, still refusing to look the Prince in the eye.

 

“Accident? How can all of that be accidents?” the royal wasn’t buying it, reaching a hand out to pull the fabric up again.

 

The servant swiftly pried his hands away, and grabbed onto the hems of his shirt to make sure they stayed down, “please, don’t."

 

“It’s the Queen’s servants, isn’t it?” the Prince asked softly, anger lingering in his voice.

 

“No! No, it isn’t,” the man shook his head furiously.

 

“So it really is them,” Jung Min hissed, looking away momentarily before looking back, “no one else would dare do this to you."

 

“Please,” the servant took the Prince’s hands, shaking his head.

 

“I’ll have a word with them first thing tomorrow morning."

 

“No, please,” he clutched the royal’s hand tightly, shuddering in fear.

 

“Kyu Jong,” Jung Min replied firmly, “I’m not letting them do this to you."

 

“N-No,” the servant's eyes sparkled with tears as he released the Prince’s hands to clutch his own body protectively, “please, it’s only going to be worse. Please don't, I..I beg you, please don’t do it."

 

“Kyu,” Jung Min breathed exasperatedly, reaching out a hand to caress Kyu Jong's face.

 

“It will be okay, after awhile it will be okay,” tears trickled down the servant’s cheeks, but he was quick to wipe them away before the Prince did, “I don’t want to cause any trouble."

 

The Prince sighed, his expression soft as he extended his arms to wrap Kyu Jong with them, “I’m sorry, Kyu. I’m so sorry."

 

The servant released the grip he had on himself as he eased into his master's embrace. He quietly shook his head, inhaling the sweet scent of royalty. "I'm really okay."

 

"I want those wounds treated though," the Prince pulled back after awhile, going to lift Kyu Jong's shirt up again, this time without protest from the servant, "come, I'll do it."

 

Jung Min got up and extended a hand to Kyu Jong. "It's okay, I can visit the infirmary or ask Hyun Joong for help later."

 

"It's not okay to say it's okay so many times, Kyu," the Prince still reached for him and pulled him up anyway, "I may be a Prince, but surely I know how to treat some scars."

 

"I'm not doubting you, Sir," the servant relented and followed the younger man into the inner chambers.

 

"Sir? Am I now an old man like my father or the sneaky plotting members of Court?" Jung Min looked back and eyed Kyu Jong, who shrunk a little before smiling sheepishly as he shook his head. The Prince wrinkled his nose in a warning before smiling back. "Then let me do it. Besides, I don't like anyone else touching you." 

 

Kyu Jong’s smile widened as Jung Min sat him down onto the royal bed, but he instantly snapped out of it. You’re just a slave, Kyu Jong, he told himself. “Let me help you undress first,” he said, belatedly realising that his master was still in his robes.

 

“No, sit,” the Prince held the servant down before walking over to one of his desks. There were many moments of conflicting emotions in Kyu Jong’s every day life and this was one of it. Being in Jung Min room made butterflies in his stomach because it was in this place that he felt closest to the Prince. Yet, it was also in this huge opulent and extravagant living space that he felt small, that he did not belong here, and that his presence only dirtied the place. 

 

Kyu Jong was almost going to stand up to avoid staining the pretty covers when the Prince returned with a small box of ointment. “Take off your shirt, Kyu,” he said, sitting down beside his servant. The servant flushed.

 

"Come on, it’s not like I haven’t seen you ,” the Prince chuckled as he took the liberty to lift up the servant’s shirt on his own. The older man yelped, instantly doing it himself before the heat on his cheeks became any more obvious than it already is. The Prince frowned, examining the purple swells and cuts all over his upper torso. They were more than he expected. He sighed, extracting the gel from the box with his fingers before pressing them gently onto the servant’s wounds. Kyu Jong whimpered, shrinking away a little before coming back to the soft fingers.

 

“Does it hurt badly?” Jung Min asked softly, wincing as the pang hit his own heart.

 

Kyu Jong shook his head, allowing the Prince to press his fingers onto his chest again. This time he inhaled sharply, careful not to make a sound. “It feels better,” he whispered, noticing how the cooled gel soothed his cuts.

 

“How can they do this to you,” the redhead frowned again, spreading more ointment onto the man’s chest, “after all you serve the Prince."

 

Kyu Jong inhaled sharply again, before mentally reprimanding himself to relax. He smiled slightly, “servants are ranked according to the master they serve only if they’re servants. I’m just a slave."

 

Jung Min spoke louder in frustration, “slave or servant, aren’t you all credited for being in service to royalty? Hath my slaves no higher status than that of a mere noble’s servant?"

 

The servant shrunk back again, looking down at his hands, “please don’t be agitated because of me."

 

The Prince sighed, he reached out for Kyu Jong’s face with his spare hand and tilted them back up to face him, “I’m sorry, but these palace regulations are beyond unreasonable, and the worst thing is that I can’t do anythi- I’m sorry, Kyu.” Jung Min gently released his face, and went back to treating the man’s wounds without saying a word.

 

Kyu Jong looked back down, and for a long moment the two stayed in silence. The servant’s heart ached, he blamed himself again for letting the Prince find out about the abuse he received. He tilted his head up a little to see the Prince focusing on his task, looking at the servant with soft apologetic eyes every time Kyu Jong winced or shrunk a little too violently. 

 

“I’m happy,” Kyu Jong said softly after awhile with a small sniff, just as Jung Min was done.

 

“Pardon?” the Prince asked, keeping the ointment back into the box.

 

“I’m happy,” Kyu Jong repeated. When his master responded with a question mark on his face, he explained, “there were a million things that could have happened to me. Being sold to foreign land, being picked up by warlords to be thrown onto the front lines, being a public slave, or even being bought by a cruel master. But none of those happened. Instead, I got to serve a benevolent and kind-hearted Prince. For that I feel blessed, and so I’m happy."

 

Jung Min smiled, putting the box away before coming back, "I'm more blessed to have you, Kyu. You have to know that." The Prince leaned in and kissed the servant on his lips again. "Things will change when I'm king, I promise."

 

Kyu Jong melted into the kiss. It was another conflicting moment. Now that Jung Min was heir to the throne, he was only one step away from supreme power, but attaining it would just draw him further away from Kyu Jong's lowly world.

 

"I just want you to be happy too," the servant breathed as the royal inched closer. 

 

"I am," the redhead laughed, stopping the servant when he wanted to put his shirt back on. "Don't," looking down at the man's bare torso, "even with these scars you look so good, Kyu," the Prince gently poked at his chest, tracing out a path along the skin that was not wounded. If there was one good thing the mundane chores of a slave gave, it was a well defined body. The older man flushed again, the soft long fingers sending voltage into his body, "please don't tease me."

 

"I'm not teasing, I mean it. You really look so good," the Prince cupped Kyu Jong's face and looked into his eyes, "would you spend the night with me?"

 

Kyu Jong flushed even redder, but nodded. "If you want," he said with a slight smile before he got up and led the Prince towards the wardrobe in order to help him undress into night robes.

 

"Yes, I'll very much like that," the royal beamed, raising both hands slightly as Kyu Jong undid his robe, "no though, I wouldn't want to hurt you."

 

The servant laughed lightly, taking the velvet and satin into his hands and folded them away, "you make it sound like I'm the maniac."

 

Jung Min also laughed at that as Kyu Jong came back to undo his inner robes, revealing a well chiseled chest. "It's not you. It's me. I'm just reminding myself, lest I become a little bit frustrated sleeping so close to someone so irresistable."

 

"No teasing," the servant gently hit him before he continued to strip him.