Being a king, Sehun believed, didn’t mean that you had to love your followers.  In fact, he tended to believe the exact opposite, but this one kid--adorned in nothing but rags, skin rugged from exposure and built with muscles only a poor serf from the field could boast--had somehow earned more than just a tiny spot of favor. 

He looked down at the peasant, black eyes steeled into an indifferent, unamused look as one of his knights--probably the guard who originally found the miscreant--explained all the crimes this commoner had been brought before him for.  Theft was what stood out the most, along with possible other infringements that were on the darker side of the fence.  But this kid doesn’t look much like a murderer.   He’s too calm and collected, steadily staring Sehun in the eyes with nothing but blunt dislike, to be anything but disloyal. 

But disloyal is fine, it’s enough to at least get this youth locked up for a couple years, detained for the possibility of having a go at Sehun’s life.  Though, he doesn’t sense that kind of feeling from this kid.  For all of Sehun’s boasted power and wealth, he can tell from just one look that if this kid wanted to, and really wanted to, he could have already assassinated him.  

That’s not what he’s here for, though.  Perhaps, instead, he’s here for something else, something a little less dramatic. 

“That’s enough, Jongin,” Sehun announced, cutting off his knight and standing off his throne.  Both Jongin and Chanyeol looked worried, tempted to restrain him as he left the border separating him from the petty criminal and his status.  Sehun held up a hand to stop them, stoic eyes hardened into obsidian scalpels as he tried to cut through the solid exterior of the man seated on his floor, looking up at him as if he were not looking at a King but a crook. 

The look is not so much infuriating as it is unnerving.  Everyone else always seems so affected by his status, always under his foot and bowed in remorse, in fear.  but this kid looks death in the eyes head on, unfazed by the fact it is unspoken law that no one was allowed to look the King directly in the eyes, especially not a serf who looks as if he hasn’t seen more than a field in his entire life. 

But this boy intrigued him.  And without many distractions to keep his mind off wars and diplomacy, it was nice to see a soul who could give him a chance to not care about anything but the hard stare boring holes into his normally unbreakable demeanor. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, voice full of authority and prestige.  Despite the question, the kid just blinks, watching him still, expression unchanged and posture still bored.  Sehun’s fascinated by the reaction, even if his guards aren’t the least bit amused. 

“Hey, the King’s asked you a question!” Chanyeol bellows, stomping over like he intends to do harm to this boy, punish him for his insolence.  Sehun stops him, though, and dismisses him with nothing more than a simple, lazy wave of his hand.  

“Your service is no longer needed, you may go.”  The order is implied in the words and while he’s sure that Chanyeol would love to fight it, he hears the clanking of metal as Jongin grabs him and drags him towards the exit, their deep voices whispering over the strange actions of their master while Sehun spares neither of them an actual thought.  

Instead, he continues to inspect the youth kneeling calmly before him, still as focused and indifferent as before.  The almond shaped chocolate brown eyes and mat of thick, unruly black hair define him as a likely child of one of the families living on the outskirts of the kingdom, a native pushed out of familiar lands to make room for the suburbs that Sehun had built to accomodate his people.   His arms and chest speak numbers to the physical labor he has put into his life, possibly even working on the wall that Sehun has enlisted numbers of his people to help construct to keep invaders from crossing the borders into his lands while his legs look long, certainly giving him some nice height. 

Sehun, on the other hand, is lanky and lithe before him, nothing short of a noodle compared to a staff made of bamboo.  His hair is an almost unnatural shade of white, peppered by black roots, flowing like snow on the mountains over his piercing black eyes.  His skin, in contrast, is nearly as pale as his hair, kept frail and untouched by his years locked inside the walls of this castle, as captive as he was in control.  His large hands might have been good for labor, but instead they were adorned by gold and silver rings, all encrusted with various expensive jewels that glowed in the sunlight that sparkled through the windows, highlighting the velvety robes of Sehun’s dress-clothes and this boy’s deteriorating hand-me-downs. 

His eyes soften, judgments reserved as he motions for the boy to stand.  As he suspected, the kid is almost as tall as him, perhaps just an inch or so shorter, still on a level ground to stare into his eyes with that penetrating stare.  his eyes remind Sehun of a cat, narrow but full of all kinds of thoughts and emotions while still having a playful and menacing gleam.  His eyelashes flare out by the outer corner of each orb, like wings that flutter with each time the kid blinks at him, completely unconcerned by whatever punishment awaits him.  And his lips, carved at the corner by a slight curve that makes him look as if he’s perpetually smirking, are loose and chapped, not trembling or open to plead for help. 

He is so different than Sehun, quiet and reserved, a feat that he finds to be admirable even in the face of slight, perturbing frustration. 

“I asked you a question.” He reminds the kid, words clipped but curious.  Those cat-like eyes blink again, attention hardly captured by the reminder. 

“I heard you,” a husky voice responds, a slight rasp lingering on the velvety words atop a certain depth that’s just deep enough to look into but not enough to drown in. His tone, while bemused, is also emotionless, distant in a way that Sehun finds almost endearing. 

“Then why haven’t you answered?”  A slight tilt is all the answer he gets for a second.  

Finally, the stranger responds, “where I come from, it’s customary to say please when you pose a request.”  

Sehun is taken aback, delightfully so, by how sassy the answer is.  But the tone is not so much arrogant as it is enlightening, as if he were his mother reminding him again at the dinner table to say please when he wanted something given to him.  

But Sehun is a King, not a servant.  He has no need of the words please or thank you.  It is his people’s jobs to serve him, to treat him with respect and love even if they hate and detest him.  

So then, why not...him?

“I am a King,” he says, though the words are hardly backed by his normal hardness, “I need not more than ask to receive an answer from people like you.” 

For the first time in this whole interaction, the stranger’s eyes narrow a subtle bit, their natural curve accentuated into a menacing leer as his lips curved down and stance turned almost threatening.  The look alone was intimidating, more so than Jongin’s or Chanyeol’s--hell, even more so than many of his enemies’!  There was something about it, too, which nearly scared Sehun, forcing him to keep his cool even as his body dared him to turn and run from this man. 

“An attitude like that is what gets Kings assassinated.”  The words are clipped and pointed, said in such a fashion that Sehun feels a shiver of pure dread slip down his spine, but he tries to keep the effect from reaching his eyes.  Still, he finds it hard to meet those eyes when danger still lingers on the few feet that stand untouched between them.  

“Is that a threat?” The young kid snorts, lip quirking on one side, but its in nothing but dark amusement. 

“Perhaps you should ask your people that.”  The pointed glare is enough to finally push Sehun over the edge of dealing with this and simply sending the stranger away.  Normally, such a bold proclamation would get most people in his kingdom killed, but something about this kid--whether it be the calm in his eyes like he’s seen death and won or the hard darkness that follows him like the unforgiving nature of time--keeps him from calling for an execution.  

Instead, he looks at the boy and calls for his advisor, Suho, to come to the Throne room.    When he arrives--promptly at that--Sehun hardly spares him a glance, too focused on this stranger to even look his way but to address him with an estranged voice and some amount of disinterest.  

“Suho, get some fresh clothes for this boy and have Kyungsoo prepare us some tea.”  When he finally turns, Suho looks almost dumbfounded, staring between this stranger and Sehun in surprise that dissipates into obedience as soon as he sees the look pointed in his direction. 

“Right away, your Highness!”  He departs with a bow and another confused look that has Sehun reeling with similar emotions.  

But instead of trying to find an answer, Sehun just turns to the boy, folds his hands behind himself and sneers.  To his dismay, the look is returned with nothing but a humoring grin, one that has him once again wondering what about this boy is different?

He doesn’t know, but he certainly plans to find out. 

***

Adorned in the Kingdom’s finest black silk and fresh from a shower, this stranger looks a little past half-way decent.  To Sehun, it appears as if he could almost be a Prince, one who fought wars and lived like on the edge, though, far from the King Sehun was.  But then again, Sehun had lived a difficult life plagued with deaths and difficulty.  Certainly, while this boy could understand, it wouldn’t be nearly the same. 

And besides, this kid couldn’t be a Prince.  He might have been semi-decent in the looks department and quite enamoring when dressed to the nines, but his hands still bared the scars of labor and toil, his skin the hours of hard labor under the scorching sun.  And despite how elegant his body looked when hugged by expensive silks and wrapped up in the luxury of his luxurious living room, he came off humble and respectful in a way Sehun had never seen a Prince behave before. 

The unnamed stranger bowed his head to the help, holding a respectful fist to his chest when a maid blushed at him and gave him a deep bow.  He returned the gesture with a light smile, his chocolate eyes bright as the sea salt caramel that shook and trembled in her shy hands, amused and reassuring. 

He offered to help pages moving things around the house, often holding out his hands for something--a task of some sort--always happy to please and serve.  When one of the servants almost dropped a plate of fresh, expensive porcelain, he caught it effortlessly in one of his long- hands, holding the servant steady with the other hand clamped gently around his upper arm. 

And the way everyone looked at him was not how people looked at Kings.  They didn’t favor him with fear or love, didn’t stare at his chest or focus their attention on the fancy footwear adorning his feet--they looked him in the eyes with respect, faced his stare on with nothing but acceptance and gratitude.  Even embarrassed and off-balance, each of them recognized him as someone they could trust. 

No one ever looked at Sehun like that.  

People hardly looked at him at all. 

Sehun was about to call him out on this behavior, to reprimand him for distracting the help and disturbing the normal bureaucracy of the house, but he was ultimately stopped, stalled by the servant that looked shocked up at the Stranger, pulled off his venture just enough that he lost what footing he had to an upturning plate and a tiny ripple in one of his finest rugs. 

Sehun gasped, watching as the servant lost his grip on the tray of expensive dishes, letting it fly out of his grasp while his hands came up to catch him on the fall that was to come.  He watched as all of his fine China hit the ground, shattering and spreading viscous liquids around the floor, crumbles of the finest food in the kingdom bouncing and rolling around the marble floors, staining every inch of the surrounding area all the colors of the rainbow.  Tea and coffee, cake and pie--all of it was wasted, tainted by the floor and soaking into the fur rugs just below his feet.  

Rage built up in his chest, preparing for explosion as he looked up from the mess with a cautious step back, readying a punishment fit for such a clumsy crime.   He couldn’t believe such a fool could be on his staff, unable to watch his steps, caught off guard by some handsome stranger standing in their midst!  It was only fair that such a terrible servant be sentenced to a duty somewhere more fitting, perhaps lifetime in a dungeon or cleaning the horse pen--

He stopped, anger dissipating to shock at the sight of the stranger cradling the servant, having caught him before he could plummet entirely to the cold hard ground.  The fool of a servant looked just as surprised as Sehun felt--staring up at the dark haired peasant with confusion and something else...something...

Light. 

Happy. 

Relieved. 

“Are you okay?” This strange, strange man asked, his voice full of concern and worry.  The serf could hardly find his voice, nodding after a few failed attempts and trying to bow from his spot cradled between two strong arms.   Sehun watched as the shock began to wear off in the face of someone who cared, being replaced by worry and embarrassment as he caught sight of the mess on the floor, gasping in horror. 

“Oh god, the floors!” The serf howled, nearly falling out of the strangers arms to try and get at the pieces of shattered glass and porcelain.  But the stranger stopped him, pulling him back and shaking his head.  Once again, Sehun and this servant looked on in confusion. 

“Don’t worry about the mess, we can clean it up later.”  We.  It was a word a Prince, a King,  would never use in this situation.  “For now, take a second to relax, okay?  If you try to clean this up now, you’re likely to get a pretty nasty cut.”  Big, brown eyes widened before nodding.    And for the first time the whole interaction, the servant finally turned to Sehun, regarding him with diverted eyes and a cowering posture.  He bowed deeply, refusing to even look at his feet. 

“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty!  I promise I’ll attend to this--”

“It’s not your fault.”  Sehun now turned with anger in his eyes, blunt and cruel at the interruption.  But the stranger just returned the glare with a leer twice as potent and commanding.  “Accidents happen.” 

Sehun was speechless, standing straight as a pole and silent as the servant scurried away, not daring to peek a look back.  In seconds the entire kingdom would be afloat with rumors and murmurs about the stranger who was their savior, about how that same stranger managed to tame the tiger that was Sehun.   The thought was infuriating at the same time it was somewhat amusing.  There was something...odd about the way the kingdom interacted with this stranger that even Sehun couldn’t quite interfere.  

But he wanted to, and not necessarily for the reasons he wished to have. 

“What’s your name?” He asked again, this time his voice conflicted, quiet.   his eyes turned to the stranger, looking at him skeptically, inquisitively. 

“Why?”  Sehun was once again confused. 

“Why?” He asked, dumbfounded.  “What kind of question is that? Because you are my subject, I should know your name!” 

“Did you know his name?”  The kid asked, looking down the hallway the clumsy servant had just run down.   Sehun’s face contorted, lips pursed as he drew back a step, clearly taken aback by the question. 

“He’s a servant, I hardly need to know his name.” The stranger’s lips once again parted in a malicious, mirthless sneer. 

“Then you don’t need to know mine either.”  He took a step past Sehun, hardly sparing him a passing look.  “After all, aren’t I, too, just a peasant below your feet?” 

He disappeared down the hallway, leaving Sehun in his wake--confused and shaken. 

***

It’s another day, another episode of Sehun bumping heads with the stranger--Tao (a name he only knows because he hears one of the servants using it in passing).  This time, he’s taking a walk around the castle grounds when he sees Tao sitting with the cook, clearly enjoying some tea and a conversation.  Kyungsoo, for all he’s worth, is trying not to smile and laugh at whatever the stranger is saying, but he fails noticeably, stirring some strange ball of something in Sehun’s gut.  Jealousy, he thinks with a dark glare in their direction.  

Part of him wants to just ignore them and continue on his path, but the other part is still sore about their interaction a couple weeks back.  Those same words continue to echo in Sehun’s head, constantly leaving him distracted and confused at every turn.      He often finds himself walking down the wrong hallways and being too lost in his thoughts to even scold the maids that accidentally run into him.  All his extra time is spent thinking on that final, lingering question. 

Aren’t I, too, just a peasant below your feet?  He is, right?  Sehun’s brain believes that, yes, he is, but then why doesn’t he treat him like one?  What’s so special about this one that he even had to eavesdrop on the help to even learn something as simple as his name?  He finds it almost obnoxious that he can’t seem to figure out the simple answer to his question, but he continues to argue within his own head that its because he wonders why this Tao character acts so different towards him than the rest. 

He knows there must be something about him, something different perhaps, that begs so much attention and speculation but for the life of him he can’t think of what!  He knows that part of it is his dislike for authority.  Maybe if he was afraid of Sehun or groveled a bit he would just be another peasant, but he doesn’t!  Instead, he looks at him like he’s the peasant--a feat that got more people killed than Sehun actually liked to admit. 

So then, why not him?  

That question continues to drive him insane, leaving him sleepless and restless, sporting dark circles under his eyes and lumbering around, sluggish and lethargic.  He hasn’t slept well in days, tossing and turning, haunted by that damn voice and those piercing eyes.  Every time he tries to relax and just enjoy the silence of an empty room, far from the diplomatic tables and constant meetings, he ends up seeing Tao in his head or hearing his voice speaking words that he doesn’t want to hear.  

And so he’s packed his schedule till now, trying to fill in every empty slot to give him distractions--people who aren’t that strange man and have less confusing questions for him.  The extra work is slowly wearing thin his nerves, leaving him dry of his energy and trying his best not to pass out at meetings and dinners, leaning on Chanyeol or Jongin for longer walks when he can hardly keep his eyes open. 

Rumors about the Kingdom say that he’s sick, dying perhaps.  The doctor--Yixing--requests him to come visit with every spare sheet of paper he has at his disposal, but Sehun politely declines every offer, knowing that if Yixing and his soft voice ask, he’ll spill every worry that lingers in his head, killing him slowly, day by day.  But he still has pride, even as Jongin and Chanyeol start to join the chorus of people asking if he’s okay.  He can’t begin to explain to them, let alone himself, that some peasant--a lowlife who probably isn’t even from within the walls--is what’s ultimately bringing his reign to an end. 

It’s already too late when he realizes that in his annoyed ramblings he’s started venturing towards Kyungsoo and Tao, interrupting their pleasant conversation and leaving them both looking up at him awkwardly from the grass as their words wane to a close.  Kyungsoo is quick to look away, peering down at the grass, but Tao continues to stare at him, gaze imploring him to say something--anything--to explain why he’s just towering over them like a scarecrow tasked with scaring away the crows.  

After a moment of more awkward silence, Sehun finally glances at Kyungsoo out of the peripheral of his vision--but only long enough to acknowledge that he is, in fact, actually there.  

“Kyungsoo, would you mind leaving Tao and I alone for a moment?”  He watches Tao’s eyes darken at the mention of his name, but he’s quick to look away from him and to Kyungsoo, sporting a light smile in opposition to the normal scowl he peers at Sehun with.  

“Let’s do this again sometime, yeah?”  Kyungsoo barely nods before he’s up, carrying a tray full of tea away and back towards his station of duty.  It takes a moment before Tao decides to look back at him, face settled into an almost disappointed sneer, one that’s full of detest and all of those dark emotions.  “I see you found out my name.” 

“I guess servants are good for something.”  He says it nonchalantly, but the effect it has is almost terrifying.  He watches as Tao’s jaw clenches, fists balling at his sides and brows furrow, the picture of hate and malice.  He watches as he turns his head and spits on the ground, face clear about his hate as he turns back to him.  Sehun figures the only reason why he didn’t just spit on him was because he had more decency than that. 

“I see you’re really not above anything, hmm?”  The dig is low and pointed, emphasized by a raised eyebrow that has Sehun almost hissing at the bitterness.  “So, since you’ve now turned my name into a curse, I suppose you want me to ask you why you’re here?” He makes it sound as if Sehun is the one trespassing.  As the King he wants to remind him that this is his castle and that if it weren’t for him, he’d probably be in the dungeons or on his way to the gallows, but instead he just offers a glare in return, hoping its just as scathing as Tao’s tone and words. 

“Is there a reason you’re still here?”  Tao shrugs, carelessly falling back against the grass and making himself comfortable.  Sehun wants to stomp on his stomach, perhaps throw him into the horse pens, but he knows that he couldn’t win that fight.  He wondered if even Chanyeol and Jongin could.  

He doubted it.  

“No one has asked me to leave yet.  I figured being as grandiose a King as you are, you’d want to see me out with a personal , make a scene of scaring me off the grounds.”  Sehun has thought about it, but then he’s thought against it.  While part of him wants Tao to go, the majority wants him to stay.  Perhaps its the constant guarantee of conflict, or maybe its the fact that everyone else just seems to love him.  Whatever it is, he figures he doesn’t deserve the effort, anyway.  

“Well, nothing is keeping you here, either.”  At the words, Tao’s eyes crack open, looking at him incredulously.  But that look slips into a teasing smirk, rolling onto his side and looking up at him with dark, sultry eyes. 

“Then maybe I’m a spy.”  The words are purred and Sehun wonders if maybe he is a spy.  But he doesn’t seem like the type.  Spies wouldn’t be so concerned with how he treated his staff.  

“You’d make a better assassin.” He admits, taking a seat on the ground and looking beyond Tao to the gardens that surround them.  “Do you like this part of the castle?  I see you here a lot.”  That smirk cracks again and Sehun nearly wants to slap himself. 

“Whose the spy now, hmm?”  The purr is ignored for a long, annoyed sigh.  Tao acknowledges his victory with nothing more than another infuriating grin.  But then he looks to the foliage around them--the intricate patterns of Irises and roses, interspersed with tulips and all types of orchids.  Fireweeds stick out in certain parts, surrounded by vines of ivy that grow unhindered up stalks planted all around the area.  It sometimes looks more like a jungle than a garden, but Sehun prefers this place to many others in the castle. 

Since Tao still hasn’t answered, Sehun decides to do so for him.  “This is the most beautiful place in the castle.  An old legend says that this garden wasn’t grown by water but tears.  Before there were flowers and trees, there was a well and a pond, and every night villagers from the surrounding towns would make a journey here to look into that crystal clear water and pray to the moon.  Each person had a different wish--wealth, happiness, children, you name it.  But one night when the winds were cold and the ground covered in a thin layer of accumulating snow, a village maiden made her way to the frozen well, tears streaming down her face. 

“’Oh, please, Goddess of the Moon!  I have never asked you for anything but to look down on me and my family, watching them grow and grow, and I promise that after tonight I will never ask you for another wish, but tonight I need you to take the years left of my life and give them to someone else, someone who deserves them so much more than I!’  The Goddess of the Moon looked down at her and saw how she weeped, unable to ignore the sorrow in her words or the desperation in her voice.  

“’What person deserves life more than you?’ She asked on the night winds, surprised to see the girl look up at her in the greatest of sadness.  ‘My son,’ she answered.  ‘He has just days to live, but he is not yet old enough to know life! Oh, please, Dear Moon, can’t you do this one favor for me?’ but the moon was not all-powerful, and while she felt the pain of this one woman, there was nothing she could do but offer a compromise.  Instead of taking the life from that woman and giving the remaining years to her son, she told her to collect the tears from every person that boy had ever touched and bottle it up to bring back in one week’s time.  And every day, that woman went around the City and told her story to the Town’s folks until she had filled a small urn full of touched tears. 

“After one week she returned to that well and called on the Moon to fulfill her wish.  But the Moon told her to plant her son’s favorite flower in the ground by the well.  ‘Every night you will return and water that seedling with the tears of the people your son has touched.’  But the Mother went a step farther.  At first she planted one seedling, and then another, and another, until finally there was a blossoming garden growing around the well.”

“And each of those flowers was watered with the tears of people her son had touched?”  Sehun nodded mechanically, looking out at the beautiful flowers and letting out a sigh. 

“The mother believed that her son lived on in those tears.  Each one was a memory of her son, trapped in a tear drop that the plants would store and use to grow.   But he was worth more than just a flower to her.  He was worth an entire forest and more.”  Tao let out a low whistle.  

“One woman grew all of this?”  Sehun shrugged, turning to look at him.  

“So the legend says, but now, it’s tended by a whole crew of gardeners.”  Tao’s brow furrowed, this time in confusion. 

“Don’t you ever want to be the one who looks after them?”  Sehun snorted.  “Or is that also a job not fit for a King?”  The snort turned to a scowl. 

“It’s not like that.” 

“Of course it’s not.” 

“It’s not, okay?  Just...” he let out a low sigh.  “Just drop it.” 

“Why?  What about this garden has you so vulnerable?”  Sehun took a deep breath, looking at him with glazed, tired eyes.  How could he possibly explain that he, too, had offered tears to the flowers?  He was a strong King, a dignitary who needn’t cry over something as meaningless as some forgotten fairy tail.  And yet,

He did. 

He cried when his mother told him about the flowers that only grow at night, turning memories into life, tears into fresh leaves.  He cried as he sat there wondering how one boy who hardly had time to find himself could have touched so many people.  He wondered how a forest could have been erected in the image of just one person and how the original purpose could be forgotten so easily with the coming and going of years.  

And he used to look at those flowers and trees wondering if, perhaps, one day he, too, could touch enough hearts to grow a forest in his memory.  He doubted it, though.  If anything, perhaps the memory could burn one down instead. 

Tao’s stare relented after a moment or so, turning back to the foliage around them, obviously displeased with the lack of answer, but Sehun didn’t know what he wanted to hear.  There was no way that he was going to just bear his heart to him like that.  Of all the thoughts and feelings he wanted to keep hidden, any related to this spot and the many journeys he had experienced within the confines of it were the most important.  

Silence settled between them, a welcome moment after the fight that was just itching to get underway.  Sehun knew as well as the next person that he and Tao would come to heads at some point, but he was determined to put that final excursion off for as long as humanly possible.  While he might not have liked Tao, that didn’t mean he wanted him gone.  There was something strange about his disobedience that brightened up every day, keeping every moment interesting.   And while Sehun hated being lectured, the promise of conflict with each ensuing day was another promise of feeling like someone cared enough to talk to him--cared enough to acknowledge him.  And while the acknowledgement was far from favorable, at least it was something. 

That was more than Sehun could say for most of the people in his castle, let alone this town.  

“Hey Sehun,” Tao’s voice interrupts his thoughts, though he sounds solemn and thoughtful.  Sehun can’t help but to turn his attention to him, peering at him through tired eyes.  “Why didn’t you just let Jongin and Chanyeol send me to the dungeons when they first brought me in?” 

To be honest, it’s a question Sehun has asked himself since day one, but he’s beginning to think he might have a real answer to that one.  

“Because I knew you weren’t a thief.”  Tao’s eyebrow cocked, but Sehun just continued to stare at the emerald green grass below him.  “A criminal would’ve never looked a King in the eyes, but you did.”  Tao doesn’t comment, just stares.  And after a moment of staring, he finally stands up and offers a hand to Sehun.  

Anyone else and he would’ve slapped the offer away.  But this is Tao, and for some reason, he takes the offer with nothing more than a bemused smile.  

He thinks, perhaps, things are beginning to change. 

***

As a King without a mate or an heir, Sehun is expected by every rule in the book to host balls and extravagant parties in the hopes of finding someone worth raising a family with.  Unfortunately, most of these parties find themselves visited by Drunken dukes and erted mistresses, both of whom have more ideas for the after party in mind than the actual point of mingling.  Sehun often finds himself disgusted by the people he sees strolling around the outskirts of these events, always with a sleazy arm wrapped around an equally sleazy suitor.  And while not all of his guests are so grotesque, the ones who are at least decent are still a bit too innocent for his tastes. 

But Tao is neither erted or innocent.  He is a species right between the two, caught between the glamorous suitors who just want Sehun for his money and the young Princesses who look up to him for his looks.  Unlike the dukes and Princes, Princesses and Dames; Tao wants nothing from Sehun but the humble home he has to offer under all the grandeur and wealth that is slowly being stripped away day by day by day.  He has no interest in taking control of the kingdom or installing his own laws.  All he needs are the people he calls friends and the little tussles that Sehun knows they both are starting to look forward to. 

Tonight is another such event fit for an argument, having both of them decked out to the nines in silks and nylon, both of which are of such vibrant colors that Sehun begins to believe they must sparkle as they walk through the entrance hall and into the extravagant ballroom.  

Like his ancestors, Sehun is decked out in robes of a deep, royal amethyst--the purple matching the violets that are drawn onto the walls, painted there by a skilled artist.  The silk is embroidered with golden veins that flow like rivers down the sleeves and over the curves of his body, accentuating his height and bringing out the alabaster color of his unnatural hair.  Interspersed between veins of gold are the occasional birds, sewn in a similar color thread so as to stand out in stark contrast to the deep purple that adorns the rest of him. 

And reluctantly dressed beside him is Tao, decked out in imperial green robes of an emerald so magnificent that it’s almost impossible to believe he’s not a Prince or at least a Duke.  Dragons drawn in silver chords dance up and down the length of the vibrant material, circling around ruby and amber pools like fallen leaves in the depth of autumn.  Despite the robes hardly belonging to him, they seem as if they were made for his build, fitting against the lines of his body like specially made armor, hugging to his body like a protective cast.  

Against the rest of the guests who are dressed in more western style attires, they stand out as hosts of great status, revered by all.  But Tao stands out more than Sehun, a new face among the crowd that has more than a few unsavory dignitaries desperate to get his name and rank, to know the whole story.  And just like with Sehun, Tao doesn’t treat these fickle folk any better than he does a bug, refusing to answer questions that are posed in a superior tone of voice or make small talk with guests who want only to know if he has a suitor in mind. 

Sehun wonders not for the first time if it was a bad idea to bring Tao along when one of the dukes--a handsome fellow from the Territories to the North by the name of Minseok--reels back from a comment that he can only imagine was as scathing and full of despise as the words the stranger spares for him.  But it’s lucky for him that Minseok is reeled back by another Duke--Luhan of the Eastern Kingdoms--who makes sure to shoot Tao dirty looks for the rest of the time. 

Overall, however, his presence there is more a comfort to Sehun than a burden.  Something about having a grounded, normal person in the ballroom has him feeling more free than he has in a long time.  Though it would be dumb for him to break alliances simply to say words he’s kept bottled up for a long time, Sehun wonders if it would be worth it just to speak a few.  He figures that yes, it would, but not worth a war he can’t afford.  

It’s okay, however, because he has Tao there to say everything he’s never gotten to say out loud before, and he does so without a bribe or a contract.  What could be better?

He shrugs off the thought as he takes another glass of liquor, toasting himself before he downs half the glass in one sip.  He promised Suho that he would only drink a little bit, just enough to get through the night, but with all the obnoxious men and women he has bumping up against him to get a feel and a conversation he doesn’t want to spare, he figures it’ll take a bit more than he originally intended to get through this without a war or treason.  And besides, alcohol is there to lubricate interactions, isn’t it?  

The room isn’t that fuzzy yet and he can still hear the girl standing by his side talking about something useless and uninteresting--a story about her maid or something--so he figures he still has a couple more glasses before he’ll be indecent enough to warrant finally calling off this damn ball and sending all of his guests back to whatever hell holes they might’ve crawled out of.   It’s not necessarily that he doesn’t want to see them or interact with them, it’s just that he doesn’t want to see them or interact with them. 

“...So then she said--”

“Right, that’s great.” He interrupts before she can talk his ear off more than she already has, “hold that thought while I go over there, okay?”  He offers a smile that’s wiped away before he even turns around, knowing subconsciously that he’s acting like a , but he can’t help it.  He might not be too drunk to function but he’s fargone enough to no longer have a suitable filter for useless interactions.   And seeing as how he’s now a danger to himself and others--with words, that is--he figures it’s just better that he escapes before someone else finds him and tries to woo him into a marriage he wants nothing of. 

He tells himself over and over that the reason for these parties is to find someone suitable for the kingdom, someone who he wouldn’t mind living his life cooped up with.  But he knows that’s not true.  He knows because at each and every party he just ignores every attempt, every offer he receives with nothing but drinks and fake smiles, excuses and running away.  He tells himself that he’s not afraid of commitment or the restraints of marriage, but in truth, he is.  He’s terrified--of not being in power alone, of having something, someone who could possibly make him vulnerable.  He’s petrified by the idea that there could be someone else, another being who he’ll grow attached to, a living, breathing being that will one day die and just break his heart all over again. 

Just like his parents. 

Just like his pets. 

Just like--

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the King is drunk.”  That snide remark could only be from one person.  Sehun knows because no one else at the damn party is dumb or stupid enough to dare make such a comment in hearing range of the King himself.  

He turns around and can’t help a little smirk.  Tao has already shucked the extravagant robes he walked in with, stalking around instead in nothing but a casual black undershirt and a pair of black slacks.  It suits him better, he thinks, taking him in with an approving look.  The shirt hugs his muscular arms and chest, matching with his beautiful tan skin like chocolate mixed with mocha.  Unlike the robes, his pants aren’t necessarily classy or dressy--elegant at all--but they fit his personality.  They fit perfectly and don’t boast some unnecessary title or wealth, just normalcy--a thing which Sehun wished for more of in his complicated life.  

“Maybe he is,” he slurs back, swaying over to the stranger and getting closer than he ever has before.  In his face, pressed precariously close, he smells an unfamiliar scent like cologne mixed with the natural musk of sweat.  It’s a scent that he would’ve never described as anything but human and yet, it smells exquisite coming off this guest, delectable  in ways he can’t even begin to describe.  He wants to comment on it, to tell him that he smells great, like a whole new level of amazing, but yet, he can’t.  Not because he can’t but because he just feels like...

He can’t. 

Tao doesn’t comment on the sudden closeness or the fact his eyes are hooded, eyes slipping up and down his figure in a way he’s never looked at anyone else before.  Instead, he just takes the glass of expensive wine in Sehun’s hand and throws it back with an expertise that should be startling but instead is maddeningly attractive.    He figures its because he’s not from royalty, he doesn’t have a limit on how much he can drink, but then again, Sehun doesn’t think he’s seen a single drink pass by Tao’s lips until now. 

“What about you?” He asks, now empty hand embracing his arm, admiring the fact that Tao is actually as firm as he looks.  

“I like to keep a clear head about me,” is his answer, but his eyes are cloudy and glazed.  “Though, I can hold my liquor a lot better than it appears you can.”

“Is that a challenge?”  He asks it because he wants someone to be as out of it as he is.  It feels great and relieving, something he can only be grateful for. But Tao’s judgment doesn’t slip on the matter.  

“I think one of us should stay clear-headed in this situation, don’t you?”  Sehun shakes his head. 

“Where’s the fun in that?”  Tao rolls his eyes. 

“Is this your idea of fun?”  he motions to him like he’s in some state that should somehow be embarrassing, but Sehun doesn’t feel embarrassed at all.  He feels alive.  

“Aren’t you having fun?”  He looks back at the room they came out of, unable to stop a slight, intoxicated sneer.  “The way all of those guests were getting up on you, so interested in who you were, where yo were from, how could you not be having fun?”  Once again, Tao makes a habit of rolling his eyes. 

“You should know better than anyone that I find this crowd anything but fun.”  Sehun’s gaze hardens. 

“What do you have against dignitaries and royalty, huh?”  Tao’s lips quirk. 

“I should be asking you that.  Don’t think I missed how many suitors kept trying to win your appeal.  How come you’ve been throwing these parties for years and still haven’t found a suitable wife yet?”  

“Because,” Sehun growls, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into his personal space, “I hate royalty!  I hate all the stupid extravagance and all the rules!  I hate living in a large, empty castle and living with strangers who can’t even look at me!  I hate people calling me their Majesty and always serving me!  I hate talking about wars and keeping up alliances!

“Just once I want to be someone like you.”  He opened his fist, letting his free fingers skim down his shoulder and rest over his calmly beating heart. Tao met his eyes, his normally bright eyes as dark as the night sky.  He was reminded again in that moment how much he looked like a panther--sleek and deadly.  Despite how caring and gentle he could be with his own, against prey like Sehun, he was nothing but a deadly, destructive predator.  And he was killing him.

He just didn’t know it yet.

“Someone like me?”  Tao asked, lips curving down into a sardonic smile.  “Isn’t that the dream of every King?  To be someone normal?”  Sehun couldn’t help his growl. 

“Why do you always have to look down on me?”  That frown turned into a sneer.

“Can’t you take the heat?”  Those dark, malicious eyes skid up and down his figure like Sehun had done plenty of times tonight.  But there was nothing of innocence or investigation in that look.  

“I-I--” He stuttered, taking a step back as Tao advanced on him, cornering him step by step.  

“You sound afraid,” he growled in a low, purring voice, suddenly pushing Sehun back into the wall, placing his hands on either side of his head.  He leaned forward, making Sehun’s heart flutter and quicken, his breathing hitch.   His eyes widened, fingers grasping for something solid to hand onto on the slippery, sleek wall. 

“O-of course I’m not...” He muttered, trying to get back his hard look and falling.  This close, he couldn’t escape that intoxicating smell or the look of those dark chocolate eyes.  He was drowning in it all, falling deeper and deeper with each second his knees weakened.   “I’m just...just...”

Moist lips brushed his ear.  “Just what?” He couldn’t take it.

Using all the power he had left in his drunken limbs, he pushed Tao back, regaining his footing before he took him by the hair and dragged him back in to close the gap remaining between them.   Days of angst and unfinished fights went into that kiss, powered by the way Tao’s fingers dug painfully into his arms as his fingers pulled at the roots of his hair until he had him growling in pain.   Neither of them dared to complain or fight it, though.  Instead, they embraced the satisfaction, the danger of possibly being caught or worse. 

Tao practically threw him back into the wall, fitting his body against his not a second later, hands immediately tracing down to his hips.  Sehun was quick to return the gesture, leg hooking around his leg as that one heated kiss turned into another and another.  The fingers that had been locked in Tao’s hair dug painfully into his shoulder as teeth bit into his neck, marking the alabaster with specks of red.  A low purr left his throat, swallowed by a hungry mouth as nimble fingers worked at his elegant robes, adamant about removing them from his person.  He tried to help with clumsy, intoxicated fingers, missing all the right hooks and strings as the mouth on his chuckled in laughter. 

For some reason, that one sound pulled him out of his lusty high.  

He broke the kiss, looking at Tao, for once on the same foot.  Right now, hair in a disarray and robes half off his body, he felt like a normal kid, consumed in hormones and something a bit lighter--perhaps admiration.   Tao stared back at him, in no better shape.  His hair was messy, shirt and pants askew and wrinkled.  And for once in all the time Sehun had known him, his breathing was hastened and shallow, huffing and puffing out of his chest in pants that sent heat flooding south in Sehun’s system.   

This time when Sehun leaned forward it wasn’t in a hasty motion.  Instead, he relaxed into the kiss, sliding his arms up and around Tao’s neck, pulling him closer as his efforts were returned.  He sighed into it, reveling in how it felt to be so close to another warm body.  In that moment, he forgot about the hordes of people in his hall, the guests who were probably starting to wonder where their host was, the staff who were probably already snickering about the newest couple in the house.   But he didn’t care.  

For once, Sehun didn’t care about rules or expectations.  He didn’t care about impressions or traditions.  He was, dare he say it--

Happy. 

Tao was the one to pull away this time, removing his hands from him and smoothing his hair back, taking a deep breath to calm his pounding heart.   When he looked back, the expressive person he had just seen was replaced by the sarcastic figure he  had been fighting against for weeks.  

“Your guests will miss their host.”  The words were scathing, practically snarled out.  “Wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.  After all, as a King, shouldn’t you see to your constituency?”   

Sehun watched in confusion as he turned and walked back into the party, fists clenched by his sides and back straight as a pole.  

He stood there, shocked and speechless, feeling lonelier than he had ever felt in his entire life.  And all he could think was...

“Why?”

***

That night Sehun sat awake thinking aboutthose words over and over in his head; remembering every moment of his time as Prince, as King, with regard to how he had always seen royalty react to peasants and serfs.  His father was a greedy man, a King who loved money more than his own wife, his own son.  He would’ve killed off his entire kingdom to earn himself just a brick of gold; would’ve sold his own son for the riches of heaven.  

Every memory he had of interactions with the villages under their command had been fraught with superiority and demands.  His father hated his kingdom, treated his people like slaves--like ants under his big, pudgy feet.  But Sehun had been young, naive.  He had believed, too, that these people, the ones who looked to him for guidance and protection, were just insects, hardly worth more than the taxes they paid to him in tribute. 

But they weren’t, were they?  They were more.  They built the walls that kept him safe, who grew and harvested the crops that kept him full.  They were the tailors who sewed his clothes, the cooks and servants who ran the house.  They were the guards who kept him out of trouble, the advisers who told him what to and what not to do. 

They were people, all of them.  So then, how come he had never once been taught to treat them like people instead of useless, annoying animals?

He sighed, back his white hair and standing off his bed, slipping into a pair of slippers and slipping out of his room unnoticed.  He couldn’t help a yawn, padding his way towards the balcony.   

He had always loved the balcony as an escape.  When he was younger he used to venture onto the elegant perch to escape the bumbling voice of his father, just listening to the silence as it engulfed him.  He had always loved the feeling of the wind brushing up against him, swaying the flaps of his night robes like wings, making him feel like if he just took a step forward, a step off, that he could fly beyond the curtain of darkness over the village and deep into the stars glistening overhead.  He used to lean against the banister, just watching as lights dimmed and people worked, unable to stop small smiles from framing his lips as he imagined just what those people were doing down there. 

But now, when he opened the doors and looked outside, he was not greeted by silence or the emptiness of an abandoned perch, waiting for his occupancy. 

Instead he opened the doors to the sight of black cloth billowing in the wind, hair like a panther’s--sleek and untamed--swaying with each and every gust.  He stood stunned, paralyzed by the way moonlight shined down on tan skin, illuminating every scar, every little imperfection.  On someone else Sehun might have called such things ugly, disgusting even.  But each one, right now, looked more beautiful than any masterpiece he had hanging in his empty, forgotten bedroom.  

He took a hesitant step onto the polished wood, practically tip-toeing so as not to disturb the scene playing out before him.  He didn’t know why he didn’t want to disturb him, but there was something so serene, so mesmerizing about seeing him leaning on his banister and just taking in the outside world that was worth more than a thousand words.  It was worthy of three books and more, thoughts which Sehun didn’t have the creativity or endless vocabulary to even engage in.  

But this man somehow deserved it.  

“I know you’re there,” that velvety tenor spoke onto the wind, stilling Sehun’s approach, “no need to be so cautious.”  

For some reason, Sehun still felt like he had ruined a tender moment.  “Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you.” Tao snorted. 

“You must be tired.  It’s not like a King to apologize.” Sehun just ran long fingers through his hair, in no mood to argue. 

“It’s dark out.  I’m only King when the sun’s up.” The sarcastic comment earns him a frown, one riddled with a grimace and displeasure.  That look, framed by moonlight and the veil of a dark, dark night somehow rips the smirk off Sehun’s lips.  Instead, his expression settles into something more like a frown.  “You’re going to lecture me again.” 

“Should I?” Tao asks, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his back against the banister.  His expression reminds Sehun of a teacher, a professor about to scold a student for some bullying act of violence, verbal or not.  And Sehun finally realizes why that look does so much to his thoughts, to his ideals. 

Because under that look, staring into eyes that see him as a person, not a King, he doesn’t have to be a royal.  He doesn’t need to be prim and proper, asserting his status and trying to remind the people just who is in charge in this kingdom.  Under that dark, cat-like stare, Sehun is nothing more than a human to a stray cat--someone who might offer him food or water, possibly milk, but at the end of the day, this kid is free.  Something about Freedom, about having no collar to worry about or leash to tug against is worth more than all the riches in the kingdom, all the silk Sehun has sitting idle and untouched in his closet.  

All his life, he’s been weighed down by expectations and a crown, each footstep supposed to be perfectly placed and proper.  He was expected to wear the right clothes and speak the right way, to never look further down than it took to see the paperwork handed to him to sign.  He was groomed to behave and only react when closed deep behind private quarters.  Even liking people, choosing a person to carry on his legacy with, he was taught to look for qualities befitting of a queen, not someone who he actually liked.  

And maybe, just maybe, that was his problem.  He wasn’t Oh Sehun anymore.  He saw himself as a King--the What everyone defined him as.  But he should be a who--was a who.

And around Tao, wrapped up in their fights and under that scrutinizing stare, he finally felt like a who, not a what.  He felt comfortable to let loose and say everything he felt without fear of consequences or reprimand.  And yet, he couldn’t get the sight of those dark eyes out of his head or the scathing words from his mind. 

He looked away, coming over to lean on the banister, placing his burning head against the cold metal and taking in a deep breath of cold night air.  The alcoholic aftertaste of cold lingered at the back of his throat, clearing his mind a bit and leaving him relaxed and refreshed.  But even that couldn’t fight back the confusion. 

He opened his eyes and looked down at the town, watching lights flicker on and off as people went about their nightly routines.  He could imagine that there were parents and teachers down there, children who were dreading another day of school and workers who just couldn’t wait for the sun to rise on another morning.  Then there were the ones who were alive in the dark, stalking dark alleyways and waiting for prey to come out. 

A concrete jungle, his mother had once said.  That’s what towns and cities were.  And this castle, it was a fortress to safe guard them from the predators roaming the night.   But maybe the real predators were them. 

“Why did you walk away last night?”  Sehun asked, no longer fond of skating corners in conversations.  Right now it was just them, just two people who had an elephant in the room who needed to be attended to.  But he didn’t look at him.  He just waited in the silence. 

Finally, Tao let out a low hum.  “Because I knew you wouldn’t.”  The answer is even more confusing than the original question, something that just further irritates Sehun. 

“What the hell does that mean?  You mean to tell me that you were waiting that whole time for me to just leave you?”  He turned a scathing glare to the male, seeing the way he casually nodded. 

“As soon as you came to your senses and realized where we were, you would’ve just left to preserve your reputation with those dignitaries and representatives.  So I did you a favor and saved you the effort.”  Sehun growled, turning on him in anger. 

“I had every intention of finishing what I started!”  Tao snorted. 

“Until someone caught us and word began to spread that the King was fraternizing with a commoner.” 

“Do you really think I care about that?!” Tao him. 

“Don’t you?”  Sehun was stunned, taking a step back, pressing himself against the cold, hard banister.  “Tell me, Sehun, what makes me so different that you’d break code just for a moment?”  It was the million dollar question, one that Sehun had hoped to avoid.  

But now, he couldn’t.  And the least he owed Tao was an honest answer.  “Because you don’t see a King when you look at me, you see me!  You don’t see my money or my fame, just Sehun.”  

The words settled between them, settling in a long stand of silence as Tao just looked at him.  It was like he was contemplating him, checking the validity of his answer.  But there was nothing else Sehun could offer him.  He had never felt as alive as he did with Tao around, egging him on and engaging him.  He instigated trouble, but that’s what Sehun needed.  And maybe they had started off on the wrong foot, but that was the beautiful thing about balance, wasn’t it?  Even the most unstable of landings could be fixed, they just had to try. 

Finally, Tao looked him in the eyes and stared him down with that intense gaze.  “Would you be willing to denounce everything--give up your legacy, this castle, your wealth, everything--to be with me?”  Without hesitation, Sehun shook his head.   It was Tao’s time to look confused. 

“Before you came along, I might have said yes without a single thought, but I’ve learned a lot in the last few weeks, and one of those lessons is that while the people here might not like me or respect me, they still need me.  This castle is as much their home as it is mine and if I were to give it all up, where would they all go?  Maybe to me they’re just servants and pages, but to someone else they might be a mom or a dad, a brother or a sister.  People depend on each and every one of them to be here to support them.  And giving this all up for you would be abandoning all of them, my people, just for something that might not even be real.”  And he knows better now.  It’s never too late to start over, and while as a King he is still expected to act above the workers and caretakers who dwell in this castle with him that doesn’t mean he can just pretend they don’t exist anymore. 

They depend on him just as he depends on them. 

He looks away from Tao and to the town, bustling with night life and raring for a morning of activity to come.  He can’t imagine what it will look tomorrow morning when he sees them no longer as ants but as people, but that’s the beauty of it, right?  Tomorrow, he won’t just be a King, he’ll be King Sehun, a man who will live and rule with regards to his people, not just himself. 

His vision, though, is drawn back to Tao, held there for hardly a second before lips touch his in a familiar spread of warmth.  He can’t help melting into the touch, arms wrapping around Tao’s neck and pulling him a bit closer.  Fingers slip down his back and settle at his hips, holding him close just as a gust of wind brushes past them both.  Sehun shivers, breaking out of the intimate kiss to look up at Tao.  Unlike his look of before, this expression is proud, praising. 

“I think you’re going to be a great King.” He says, lips quirking at the corners.  Sehun rolls his eyes. 

“Excuse you, I already am a great King.”  Tao’s eyes level into a gentle gaze somewhere between loving and sardonic. 

“Yeah,” he says, leaning in for another kiss, “Now you are.”  

Thanks to a handsome stranger, Sehun thinks as he loses himself in another deep kiss. 

Perhaps, but just perhaps, there might be a forest in his future after all. 

But only time could tell, until then, he could start with this moment, this flower and see where it went from there.