a/n a tumblr anon asked if i was continuing this. so y not. i will post next ch as soon as i think of sth to say lmao. pls give feedback!! 

Jongin was gifted physically, blessed even. No one would deny it. They might deride him because he was a bastard, the illegitimate son of a lord fallen from the favor of the court long before Jongin was even born and a lowly . The women might whisper and laugh about him behind his back. But on the field, they cheered for him until their throats grew hoarse. The men might insult him cruelly to his face, but none woudd dare to cross swords with him in a duel. The devil swordsman, they called him. Jongin fought with a dancer's grass, so breathakingly beautiful and passionately fierce that you fell in love with even as he knocked your weapons from your hands and pressed the dulled blade of the practice sword against your jugular. Whenever he practiced in the courtyard, an inevitable crowd of admiring court ladies formed. And it was not only his skill in sports and his unparalleled swordsmanship that made the court ladies blush. 

He was a beautiful man. Although the angles of his face could be formidable at times and his expression intimidatingly stoic, his full lips somehow softened his expression, appearing welcoming even when he was frowning. And his skin - that was what caught Prince Sehun's attention first. His ever-present entourage mumured their surprise when Sehun had brought their party to a screeching  halt on his way to visit older brother, the king of Joseon. 

"Who is that?" he asked, the question directed at no one in particular. 

The man was standing in the middle of the crowd, his face uplifted towards the skin. Even from some distance, Sehun could still make out that he had abnormally long, thick eyelashes, like one of those expensive porcelain dolls imported from overseas. But his skin was far from porcelain. It was an overcast day, the kind that but the sunlight that managed to filter through the clouds caressed his face lovingly, highlighting the contours of his face, kissing his lips lightly, and drawing out the gorgeous warm tones of his skin. Instead of reflecting off of him, the light seemed to be coming from him. Sehun in air; he hadn't even realized that he had been holding his breath. 

"It's Lord Woon's bastard son, Your Highness," someone replied, a dismissive note sneaking into their otherwise deferential tone. 

"I would like some comapny during my bath tomroow. It is so tiresome to sit in that big bath alone," he sighed before continuing on, knowing that his implicit order would be carried out. 

As the youngest brother of five, he always recieved whatever his heart desired. High-ranking enough to demand absolute respect, but with five brothers in line before him for the throne, he was not considered much of a threat and therefore, afforded more freedom. In short, as all who served him knew too well, he was very spoiled. After paying his respects to the king and dutifully asking after his  health, Sehun left soon after because his brother had to meet with the Council and discuss tedious matters. He had never once been jealous of Suho or coveted his trhone. To Sehun, it seemed to only come with an endless of burdensome obligations and confining rules as well as danger from every front. Even his Majesty's night activities were monitered and scruntinzed. The king bedding his wives was always a big, overdone affair. A parade of dotors would crowd in the king's quarters to poke and prod at him every day the week before the set date, which was determined by the Office of Divination. Special brothers to increase his stamina and virility had to be drunk. Needles had to be stuck into his royal skin. The whole palace would be in an uproar. And the pressure of producing an heir most likely dampened the mood considerably, Sehun thought. No, he did not covet the throne. In fact, he pitied his older brother who had to sit in it. His word was law, but it seemed like more than often Suho never got what he wanted. 

Unlike Sehun, who could do whatever he desired as long as was discreet enough. The young prince smiled  happily to himself as he strolled back to his quarters, humming tunelessly. He couldn't wait until tomorrow.