It was barely a fortnight later that Taemin found himself in a kingdom another, at the altar, dressed in the royal trousseau, standing beside a man whom he had spared no more than a glance. Every sound, every face was a blur to him. Because the only face that mattered… was not in that crowd. As much as it hurt his heart of what this absence meant, Taemin was relieved Jongin was not in his sight. Otherwise, he would not have the strength to go through this ceremony, this decision that would change everything. Make it permanent. Irreversible. But as moments passed, Taemin found Jongin’s absence unbearable… because every second of it reminded of how he had been abandoned, without a word, without an explanation. How Jongin perhaps didn’t love him the way he did, how it all must have been a game until something like this happened. He felt toyed with… and for whatever reason Jongin betrayed their love, it would not change the fact that he was a coward. A coward who could not even write him a letter, let alone meet him, to explain why he did what he did. Taemin thought he deserved it– at least knowing what had come before Taemin for Jongin– to reassure himself somehow that Jongin’s decision was worthwhile, that it was right. Maybe, he could somehow live with himself then. Because as he was now, he could only blame Jongin. His loss and anger, simmering furiously under his skin, was making every memory he held for him poisonous.

He did not want it. He did not want that one person he still loves in spite of everything, to become a poison to him.

The music, the chatter suddenly halted and so did Taemin’s rancor thoughts. He heard the sacred vows. He repeated them, promising himself to the man beside him, not even sparing a glance at him, not even focussing on the vows that had been spoken back to him, not even caring for the delicate, golden ring encrusted with emeralds that now rested on his finger. Uncaring that he was now marked as another’s.

Taemin refused to look at King even during the coronation, he only stood there, by his side, took the throne by his side– doing nothing but just being what he was required to– a consort that was needed for ascension, eyes still searching– despite knowing he would not be amongst the gathered crowd. Taemin snapped out of it when the attendance remained devoid of him, completed his courtesies, accepted the hearty wishes that came his way, put on a smile in response to the conversation going on around him during the feast.

Taemin refused to look at the King even when he was leading him around what was now his home, taking what seemed like an elongated path to the bedchamber.

He refused to look at him even when he had excused himself shortly, leaving him in the solitude of the lavish chamber, rose petals adorning the silk sheets, the faint, pleasant smell of them wafting the air. Nothing of it affected Taemin, he was too far gone in his harmful, voracious thoughts and sentiments that were devouring whatever was left of him. There was perhaps nothing left of him now, from how he just felt empty after the surge he had been feeling earlier. Wreckage... that was all that was perhaps left… and he knew, it would be best for the King to know that there was nothing Taemin could give him.

The King's footsteps softly echoed again in their bedchamber, yet Taemin's eyes remained fixated on the ground, his heart came up to his throat when he felt the space beside him on the bed dip. He could sense it– hands reaching for his, his eyes left the spot on the ground to see hands, adorned with rings try to hold his own, he could feel it– the distance between the King and he, reducing– and the moment their hands touched, Taemin flinched, his gaze hostile, yet now finally raised, settling on the man beside him.

Grey, big eyes, sharp yet misty... dark hair almost getting into them. He was young. So younger than Taemin had assumed him to be. He had a pleasant countenance, a naive charm to him despite the faint scars on his cheek and near his brows. Something flickered in those eyes, they changed, but Taemin could not read them. He realized he had just been disrespectful, blatantly and discourteously refused him. His heart was hammering heavily, thinking of what the consequence of it could be, considering the temper of this man he had heard of. But the King, there was not a single streak of rage within him and he was retracting as if Taemin's reaction was not disrespectful, almost as if it had been his own and just got up and left that side of the bed, taking the other, laying down and pulling over the quilt upon himself.

Taemin's heart that had been beating heavily, began to calm... yet his gaze... it remained on the sleeping man, that little incident sparking an interest, finally.

Minho.

Taemin had spoken that name, had put his own beside it on that day, yet he had refused to let it become an existence in his mind. It was getting harder as the days passed by, to not relate to it only as a mere word. No one spoke it... no one would dare to, but whenever he glanced upon the King, the name came to his mind.

Caught in his own self, he had forgotten of the reputation Minho held, of the many accounts he had heard from Jinki, reiterated on and on by his other half-siblings as his wedding day had neared. They were happy there was one less contender for the throne if anything happened to Jinki, one less contender for the other posts they would assume in Jinki’s court. They masked their taunts and mirth behind their sympathy and advise for Taemin. But it had all gone over his head.

It had been almost a week later after that night, that Taemin realized… Minho was not like what they had heard of him to be.

Taemin's presence was asked for in the many proceedings of the court and he sat through them, beside Minho, observing. Minho's aura was authoritative, Taemin noticed he made it to be... yet it was never overbearing. As a new King, he was often opposed implicitly in court, yet Minho's pride was unaffected, his words were always polite and calm yet his answers were ruthless, resolving the issues effectively. Taemin had seen it multiple times as he had sat through five sessions he had attended in the two weeks that had passed.

Yet, what was striking was how Minho was when he stepped out of court. He was more human than he seemed. His tone lacked arrogance and his words were regardful when he spoke to the castle staff. The workers around him were relaxed, obedient… content. As the days went by, it was evident that Minho did not have a hot temperament… nor an oppressive nature.

Every time the summon for Taemin's presence in court came, it was never a command, but a request. Eventually, the matters began to involve Taemin's opinions as well and for the blunt way Taemin spoke, Minho never interrupted nor came back to him, questioning him about it. Taemin realized through how he was regarded in court… that he was not Minho’s consort as a mere namesake. In Aeyan’s laws, he was equal to the King, he had the power to oppose him. For him to be able to comment on their ongoing matters, Minho had requested the courtiers to begin their debate from the outset, had them repeat arduous procedures. Taemin saw it– their reluctance, how they looked at him as he was an outsider. How they did not want to regard his words with the same weight as their King’s. Hence, Taemin did not provide any that he had reached upon through his calculations and intuitions. He was not going to be rash, not going to utter decisions or comments, given that he had the handicap of not being of Aeyan, of not being knowledgeable or experienced enough. What he could soundly comment on, he would, the rest, he would clearly deny giving insight, speaking he would only do so when he was capable enough. The court was surprised when he had first declared so, because he was putting himself down, speaking the harsh truth that they were perhaps going to use to mock him later behind his back. He was belittling himself in this way, but he had to avoid any and all sorts of ill favor and tension. Because the favor towards him would directly reflect on Seyan.

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