Minho was arrogant, but he had every right to be. He was one of the princes of the kingdom. But there was someone within his sight, who was far more arrogant than him, someone who did not have the right to be so, yet was, just because he deemed himself to be worthy of that trait.

Taemin was a noble's son, nothing more. He frequented the castle with his father, dressed in fine robes, sometimes changing into lighter ones to spar with the other noblemen and soldiers. Minho watched him, either walk pompously beside his father in the gardens or spar handsomely on the grounds. Minho watched him every time he visited the castle, because arrogant or not, Taemin was indeed a sight to behold.

Taemin never bowed to him, never spoke with a of excessive humbleness and fear when he greeted him. Taemin looked to Minho, his sharp gray eyes meeting his ebony ones, forever catching him off-guard.  

At times when Minho decided to mingle with other noble sons and soldiers, Taemin was quick to slide a snide remark subtly. Minho never failed to bite back with equal words because he was taught to never accept them but he never acted upon Taemin's disrespect, no matter how furious it made him at times.

But he grew furious when he watched Taemin be pleasant in his absence, be pleasant to everyone but him.  

And his anger began to make him question why he sought respect, why he sought pleasance from Taemin.

The next time when their eyes met, the scattered, senseless words in Minho's mind finally gathered into a clear, irrefutable answer.

The answer made him avert his gaze and rush past him, afraid that the sound of his pounding heart would give him away.

One day, Minho approached his balcony, now well rehearsed in suppressing his enthusiasm, to let the sight of Taemin handsomely sparring be the very first he would see that morning. But all that met his eyes were vacant grounds. He looked around and found the air rife with tension, the maids, the soldiers quieter than usual.

He voiced his question to his squire when he served him breakfast and the squire answered meekly, "Lord Lee has been stripped of his title and wealth, Sire...for disobeying the King by not implementing the new taxations on his land."

Minho excused the squire and rested back, the sight of the vacant grounds hitting him suddenly, making him feel as vacant as them before making the air heavy on his shoulders and his heart heavy upon his chest.

He covered his eyes with his palm, throwing his head back to hit the backrest of his armchair, as he chuckled, listening to it die in his throat, choked by the sentiments that had begun to spread and wrap upon every of his senses tightly.

It was funny, that his heart was more aware in the realization of Taemin's absence. It was funny, that it was only now that he had realized how far he had come.

He was every subtle joke Taemin had made him be...because he had indeed loved like a fool.

A season had passed yet Minho's passivity in everything had remained unnoticed. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was not the crown prince, nor was he close in the line of succession. Despite that, he was dear to the King and when his twenty-first birthday arrived, the King held a grand feast. Like every other prince, like tradition, he was to receive a courter.

A courter was anyone he could choose to indulge ually with, a decent title for a royal harlot. There were restrictions upon who could be chosen as a royal courter- they had to have noble blood, for at times the royalty married their courters and at times, heirs to the kingdom came from the courters.

It was hardly by their own choice a noble became a courter, but always by a royal's choice that they did. Minho despised having to ever force such a subtly dishonorable title upon anyone, hence he had long decided he would never choose one. He would rather pursue someone in honorable ways, let them choose him like he had chosen them, let them be marked as his equal, as his consort and not as a harlot who seduced their way into marriage.  

After the feast was done the King finally asked if he had anyone in mind to make them his courter and everyone within the room paused in wait for a response, the young nobles lowered their gazes and stiffened. Minho noticed and he knew why. He was a worthless prince, after all. There was no benefit in being a plaything with a title if it were not for the King or crown prince.  

"I have no one in mind yet, father." Minho spoke, "I will let you know when I have."

The tensed air resolved when the King regarded Minho's words before letting the conversation flow elsewhere.  

Another season passed and nothing had changed except the winds. It was warmer, yet Minho could not relish the sun as he pleased. He had done everything in his power to find Taemin, had even ridden to their lands a few times, yet there was no trace of his existence in any corner.

Minho had grown attached to quiescence, seeking corners of solitude within the castle, avoiding his brothers and sisters, who never failed to ask him or push their opinions in his face, about the courter he was yet to choose. His father inquired often too, finally noticing the dreariness of Minho's mien, encouraging him to distract himself in order to lift his spirits.

But Minho knew, that this passivity within him was now normal, a trait of him, a part of him. He had been slowly shaped into a different person, someone who no longer cared about the royal mundanities, someone who was not as arrogant as before, someone who did not care of how others saw him, thought of him...someone who no longer cared if he was being disrespected and ridiculed behind his back.  

He focused solely on being someone his father could be proud of, someone he could look into the mirror and smile at in content, someone who would not turn out as worthless as everyone else thought he would.

The new flow of his life, the quiescence he enjoyed, broke one day...when his squire came speaking news that left his entirety in a quake.

"The Lees revolted...they attacked the new lord with a few supporters but they failed. The new lord executed the entire family and every surviving revolter."  

"The King is looking into the matter..." The squire continued, "The new lord had no autonomy in executing- he is being summoned-"

"Leave." Minho breathed, finding his eyes cloud, "Leave."

The moment the squire had closed the door, Minho felt something within him finally break and fall, something that had long cracked but he had been trying to hold together. He could not breathe, his heart was felt like a tightening knot, choking him, until he could not hold anything together, could not tolerate his breath being painfully stuck and he cried, letting himself breathe, letting himself pour out everything that he had never spoken.

And it was in this very moment that he realized that no effort from his part could change him...that his existence was indeed worthless and will always be...without Taemin.

A fortnight had passed and Minho's steps had not resounded in the quiescence he used to seek. Every sound of his existence was trapped in his chamber, his senses lost in a trance as he stared at his open balcony for days, for nights.  

His stupor finally broke when his father summoned him to court along with the rest of his brothers, to witness his conversation with the lord who had brashly punished rebels without relaying word to the Capitol, as a lesson.

He sighed as he dressed for court, glancing at his reflection in the mirror, noticing the morbidity in his eyes. He blinked and blinked, to blink it away, to hide the scar within him, to hide how worthless he truly was. His expression morphed into an intimidating cold blankness, deciding to wear the remnant of his mourning, the anger he held for fate, for himself.

He finally sat upon his seat in court, a seat far away from the throne. It reminded him of worthless existence, and it somehow angered him more, making it hard to tolerate sitting upon it.

The words were blaring, he tried to listen to distract himself, but truly he was counting minutes until he could retire to the comfortable solitude of his chamber.

"I apologize for my actions, Your Highness, but my life was threatened. But I have not committed the wrongful words that reached you, Sire. I punished only the ones who attacked me. I have a dozen of the revolters captive, alive...and I have also captured...the son of Lee."

Minho froze in his seat, his eyes widening as he looked to the Lord speaking his account.

"I found him later, Sire. I have no proof that he was involved in the revolt, but he is the son of a traitor. I wish to hand over the investigation to you. I have brought all my prisoners to the castle's dungeons."

"You are freed from their responsibility." The King spoke, "Your actions may have been necessary, but a lord only has the power to hold captive, not pass a sentence. I cannot overlook disobedience of any form. Your commission is halved for three years. The court is dismissed."

The minute the court was dismissed, Minho sprang up from his chair and rushed