ChangKyun paces around the candle lit room anxiously, his bare feet cold against the stone flooring, but he couldn’t care less. His shadow is long and malicious on the cold walls, snaking between the rich, royal purple drapes and carmine red curtains. He as if purposely avoids the Persian rugs - gifts from the califat in the far South - and keeps away from the fireplace that warms up the room. He intentionally wants to be cold, to feel displeased and uncomfortable, just to later plunge head first into a safe embrace, breathe in a rough yet somehow gentle scent radiating from aristocratically white skin that had never felt the softness of finest fabrics for more than few hours. He must come tonight.

ChangKyun takes a turn next to the door and heads to the narrow window in simple diamond shape pattern. The night is dark and dreary, the wind rustling the trees outside whistles over the smoke vents, making the slowly burning out fire to dance unsettlingly in the fireplace, the red vicious tongues losing their strength second by second. It was already way after midnight, the distant howling of hungry night animals signaling their time in this world. What if he couldn’t come?

There’s a barely audible knock on the door and ChangKyun jumps. He takes a deep breath, hiding all his fears and concerns behind a stoic mask, barely holding back a gasp when a man clad in finest set of grey metal armour, cloak of deep green floating behind him graciously, walks in, his helmet under his arm. The royal coat of arms is painted in the center of the armor covering his chest, and for a second the red-eyed silver griffin on the moss green background looking at ChangKyun seems like the root of all evil.

“Bolt the door,” he instructs shortly or else his voice would waver. He makes his way to the knight, who had just shut the heavy bolt on the door, and takes his helmet from him, tossing it aside. He doesn’t let the raven-haired man to say a single word, his big warm brown eyes wide in shock, as he presses him against the door and forces his lips on the knight’s. There is small whimper, rough leather gloves settling on ChangKyun’s waist over the thin fabric of his tunic, the coldness from the armour breezing through the thin fabric.

“Is this why you called me here tonight?” the man breathes out against ChangKyun’s lips and the latter needs to hold back a shiver. Tonight he had to be strong, ruthless and suitable the title of future king. He couldn’t let his concerns and fears to shine through, even though the man before him could read him like an open book.

“I can call you whenever I please,” ChangKyun retorts and steps away from the knight even though he has a physical need to kiss those sinfully full lips again. Not now. He had to held back.

“That is true, my prince, but knowing of tomorrow's crusade, you should get all the possible rest,” the man speaks softly, his voice layered with concern and it’s a grim reminder of the day that is already lurking somewhere behind the horizon, promising nothing more but pain and destruction.

“I will know what’s the best for me myself. You should know it by now,” ChangKyun brushes of the offered concern and sits down on the bed, covered with sheets of Egyptian cotton and heavy weaving of Persian blankets. “As well you should know, that there is only one way that relaxes me without a fail,” he continues and leans back on his elbows, smirk playing on his lips despite the concerned look on the knight’s face.

“Strip, my Hoseok,” he instructs and awaits a denial, he is waiting for resistance and the knight’s common sense to take over ChangKyun’s ridiculous requests on a night like this, yet there are none. The man before him obeys silently, his sword belt with atypically large weapon being the first one placed on the blood red rug. The cloak follows, draping gracefully on the floor, creating a nest for all armour pieces to lay in it one by one.

From gloves to the decorated chest plate, from rerebraces to greaves, down to the heavy boots and armor shirt, until the knight is in front of him in nothing more but the simple rough linen shirt and woolen pants. It’s as if the amour has never left his body - his shoulders and chest still broad, the loose shirt not hiding his arms.

ChangKyun wants to request for the knight to continue, but the latter does it with no reminder, the shirt leaving his sculpted body. Few scars throw shadows on the white skin along with muscles, like a slightly time damage artpiece of Athenian artists - carved in marble to feast one’s eyes on. But how many of those gorgeous artworks have been destroyed and smashed to pieces?

ChangKyun loses his stoic expression. The dark thoughts invade his mind and the same concerns he had after hearing the dividing of the army comes back to him and he swallows back a wave of panic. This could be the last time he sees his knight, his Hoseok.

The latter has stopped, the pants barely hanging on his hips too low to be considered appropriate. He can see, he can feel ChangKyun breaking apart from within and he boldly moves forward, kneeling between the prince’s legs, taking one of his hands in his and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss on the soft skin. “Tell me,” he whispers, his eyes locked with ChangKyun’s, “I’m here, so tell me,” he repeats and allows ChangKyun to move his hand to his cheek. Hoseok leans into the touch, placing another kiss in the base of ChangKyun’s palm as a shaky breath vibrates through the prince’s body.

“The crusade tomorrow…” ChangKyun begins, his eyes still locked with Hoseok’s, his mind and heart desperately grasping onto the presence of the man before him, savoring it, engraving it in his memory. “Today we discussed the division of our forces both for North and East. I will have to head to the North alongside my father, my cousin and the elite forces,” he runs his thumb over Hoseok’s cheek, his fingertips wishing to never forget the feeling of his skin. “However several generals from the elite forces are assigned to the East, to lead the attacks against the enemies there,” ChangKyun runs his other hand through the knight’s soft black mane, his heart sinking deeper into his stomach, the darkness and reality of war already around him. “Including you,” he finally gets to the main fear of his, main concern that’s bothering him for hours.

Hoseok will be days away from him, in a far land fighting for ChangKyun’s father’s glory, for the glory of that cursed silver griffin. He won’t be by his side and if God will deem those lands to be his final resting place, ChangKyun will never see him again, never touch him again, never feel the safety, the warmth only Hoseok can give to him. It would be the same case if he himself would have to lay his head in the mud and dirt of a strange land.

“I know,” comes a quiet whisper. “I was the one who requested it,” follows a shocking confession. Hoseok’s eyes are averted from ChangKyun’s and the latter’s hands fall lifelessly against his sides.

“But… why?” he stammers out. His heart has stopped, his vision is getting blurry and he feels deceived, he feels betrayed - above all he suddenly feels lost and unwanted. Warm, rough hands settle on his cheeks and through blurry eyes he sees the eyes that are the whole world to him even now, when he can’t understand his own feelings.

“For your own sake,” Hoseok begins to explain, “whether I would go North or East, I would be in front rows alongside with other elite generals, to lead others. Whether next to you or far away, I could be the first one to fall,” ChangKyun’s hands immediately fly up on top of Hoseok’s to keep them in place as if he could disappear right there and then.

“What would you do, if you would see a sword pierce through my armour?” Hoseok asks and ChangKyun suddenly hears only buzzing, he doesn’t want to hear a question like that, he doesn’t want to think of such possibility and by instinct he shakes his head in denial. “Would you come to get me? To save me?” Hoseok adds another question and without even a second thought ChangKyun blurts out an answer.

“Yes,” he locks gazes with the knight, soft and sad smile appearing on the lovely features before him. The knight moves forward, gently pulling ChangKyun lower to kiss his lips softly, barely even touching them, before he pulls away again.

“That’s why I requested your father to re-assign me. A prince should never go for a fallen knight and risk his own life. Hyunwoo requested the same,” Hoseok explains and ChangKyun vividly remembers his cousin Minhyuk storming out of the meeting room when he realized Hyunwoo - his knight - was assigned for East. So both of them had done this on purpose.

“I should have talked to you, my prince, but I know you wouldn’t have agreed. This time I had to make a decision on my own and I am ready to take on any punishment you deem appropriate,” the raven hair stands up and ChangKyun unwillingly lets go of his hands. He understands both why Hoseok didn’t ask him about this and why he did request the change, but that hasn’t made the fear less prominent, the terrifying feeling of losing Hoseok less vivid in his mind.

“Thus tonight, as every night you have ever wished, my body, just like my heart, is yours,” Hoseok slips the last piece of garment off him and ChangKyun’s eyes no longer can focus on something one, fear still alive and loud at the back of his head, yet his whole world - something beyond kingdoms and wars, larger than seas and higher than the sky - was in front of him for maybe the last time. He couldn’t lose a single moment to dreadful reality.

The wind outside is howling louder than ever before, chasing large dark clouds around the starless sky. The fire in the fireplace has turned into barely sparkling coals, specks of red jumping around here and there. The wax from the candles has dripped over the candlesticks in large white tears. The whole room with the high ceilings, the narrow windows, the rich drapes and luxurious curtains - all drown in two voices and groaning, growling and whimpering, panting out in ecstasy and whispering in utter affection. This might be their last night, their last chance to become one and neither of them holds back a single thing.

ChangKyun could swear Hoseok has never looked more beautiful. Sweat glistening on his ivory skin, pooling in curves of tensed muscles. His lips parted in gasps and moans, despite the usual restrains, ChangKyun’s name pouring from them as if that’s the only word he knows, the only word he can pronounce. His eyes are heavy lidded, darkened in ecstasy, yet so intense and mesmerising ChangKyun can’t look away even for a second.

The knight’s body arches into ChangKyun’s with each , his hands firmly held above his head by ChangKyun’s hands, their fingers intertwined to the point it’s almost painful. He snaps his hips up, meeting ChangKyun’s downwards s, both of them getting more and more lost in each other. Tomorrow didn’t exist. The war didn’t matter. No glory could be compared to this. At least for the time being.

ChangKyun had probably never fully realized how blessed he was to have someone so strong, so brave, so heroic, so gorgeous to be his in all possible ways. Hoseok’s mind, heart, soul and body - it all belonged to ChangKyun beyond the oath a knight gives to his king or his sire. It was something beyond what a lover gives to a lover. It was beyond everything - higher than stars and moon, deeper than the depths of the darkest sea. How unfortunate it was to understand it all on the verge of possible tragedy.

ChangKyun settles his hands on Hoseok’s hips as the man moves up and down his lap, the view lewd and at the same time and ChangKyun engraves every second of it in his mind. The drenched bangs sticking to the knight’s forehead, his tongue resting on the very edge of his bottom lip as he tries to breathe evenly, his tensed arms that are desperately holding onto ChangKyun’s shoulders, his flexing stomach - white splattered all over it - and his hard manhood rubbing against it. The lewdest artwork ChangKyun didn’t want to forget, didn’t want to lose.

He grabs Hoseok by his wrist and pulls him down, their chest almost colliding. Instantly he captures Hoseok’s already kiss bruised lips with his, letting both of them to drown in yet another sensation. The dawn was already nearing behind the trees, coloring the horizon in golden amber tones, and they didn’t have much time, possibly those were the last moments together in their lifetime.

They drive each other to the very edge, their bodies shivering simultaneously as Hoseok collapses partly on ChangKyun, partly next to him and the latter wraps his arms around the knight the very second. Hoseok doesn’t make him wait, embracing the now crying prince and hiding him against his chest, his breathing now becoming uneven for a completely different reason.

“I don’t want to lose you,” ChangKyun whispers, swallowing back the tears that had finally broken out. “I can’t lose you,” he looks up to meet Hoseok’s watery eyes and he knows that the man holding him is putting on a brave face for ChangKyun’s sake. He has given ChangKyun his everything, he has become his everything, he was his knight and he believed he had to be strong for him, even though it might drown him from the inside.

“You won’t, my prince. I promise,” Hoseok responds quietly, few disobedient tears escaping his eyes as he leans closer to lock their lips in a kiss again, holding onto each second until the roosters greet the sun at the horizon, tearing the prince and his knight apart.

The bailey is filled with elite generals and the royalty, all dressed in their armours, swords by their sides, shields on their arms, spears strapped to the sides of their horses. Some of them have bows, some - crossbows, but all of them have restless hearts and fear gleaming in their eyes. Every single man now waiting to deploy to his own destination had something or someone to lose - glory, power, family or a lover. If only war would care about all this, yet it didn’t.

ChangKyun has his helmet in his lap, his black stallion letting out impatient puffs of air in the cold morning. The silver griffin was embroidered on the sides of his saddle, painted on his armour, sawn on his red cloak. It was everywhere, the menacing red eyes unsettling ChangKyun even more. He turns to Minhyuk for support, but the usually bright man has slumped down in his saddle, absent mindedly petting his horse. His eyes are red and it doesn’t look like has slept at all, switching out sleep for crying and ChangKyun couldn’t blame him. He was barely holding back himself.

A movement on his right catches his attention and he inhales deeply as the generals deploying to East enter the bailey. He hears Minhyuk gasping as Hyunwoo passes through the gate, his loyal battle axe strapped to his back, few spares trapped to the sides of his wild horse. Hoseok rides right after him and ChangKyun bites his cheek not to make a sound. He looks like a living art piece riding on a white mare, the visor of his helmet raised up, showing his features and his still slightly swollen lips.

“Go on,” a voice right next to him makes ChangKyun to jump, just to see the kings - his father’s - figure next to him. “Go and say goodbye to him properly. A knight needs nothing more but strength given to him by his sire.” he speaks as if he knows something he shouldn’t, yet ChangKyun doesn’t question it and urges his horse to move through the small crowd.

“Hoseok,” he addresses his knight as soon as he is close enough. A smile spreads on Hoseok’s lips and for a second the war doesn’t matter anymore, the morning is no longer cold and all fear melts away. He was told to do it properly and how he wishes he could, but the generals around them…

He looks around to see his father leading the men outside, leaving only him, Hoseok, Minhyuk and Hyunwoo in the yard alone. In seconds Minhyuk is off his horse, lifted up on Hyunwoo’s and hidden against the broad male as if his life depended on it. The tanned man is whispering soft words to the without a doubt crying male and ChangKyun wishes he would have enough willpower to hug Hoseok and let go, but he knew the very second he would wrap his arms around him, he would never let go.

“I have one thing to ask from you,” he speaks quietly, averting his eyes from the other two. “Come back alive. That’s all I ask. Just be alive when this madness is over,” he voices out his silent plead, a hand settling on the back of his neck. He allows himself to be pulled closer, lips pressing against his softly, not as long as he would wish, but long enough to feel reassured.

“As long as you will need me in this lifetime, I will come back alive. The moment you will need me in the next one - I will go and find you there, my prince,” Hoseok smiles again and ChangKyun can’t help but to smile in return.

“And I will wait. Either in this or the next one.” he replies and from the corner of his eye he can see that Minhyuk is back on his horse already, Hyunwoo slowly leaving the beiley. For one last time he locks eyes with Hoseok, his smile being the last thing engraved in his memory before the knight leaves.

“Just don’t make me wait too long,” ChangKyun whispers. Minhyuk is by his side in a second and they both join the North troops, seeing the East group already heading to their destination. This war could be the end, yet it also could be a beginning.