The hallway is eerily quiet as Hoseok makes his way down the narrow path to the King’s study chamber. Being summoned by the King is very rarely a good thing. The walkway, for all its pomp and grandeur, is Hoseok’s favorite to travel because it holds the history of his lineage. His ancestors line the gold trimmed walls, each picture telling the story of Kings that have gone before, paving the way for his father, and someday himself, setting an example and leaving behind a legacy that he strives to live up to every day. His father’s study is the next door down, and he sighs as he casts a long, knowing look at his grandfather’s picture hanging just to the right of the oak wood frame.

“I’m not going to like this visit, am I, Pawpaw?” he asks the smiling figure. Hoseok had inherited his grandfather’s eyes, smile, and much to the chagrin of his father, the man’s easy going personality as well. He sighs as he knocks on the door. “Wish me luck.” He throws an air kiss at the painting before walking past the threshold leading to his father’s office.

“Hoseok-ah,” the King says his name as he waves him to a seat, “come in, come in.”

Smiling, Hoseok sits down facing the man. When he was younger, this was his favorite room, and being summoned to his father’s office was the highlight of his day. He would sit curled in his father’s lap, listening as the man regaled him with stories of the past. The deep reverb of the man’s tone was delightful. The sound was authoritative and comforting, and he felt safe just hearing him speak. Back then, his father was the crown prince, holding the title that Hoseok holds now. Back then, his father didn’t have all the stresses that come with running a country. Back then, he was just Hoseok’s dad. Hoseok misses that time.

“How are your studies coming along?” the King inquires. Hoseok wonders if the man is genuinely interested or just making small talk.

Their relationship has become strained, partly because Hoseok’s no longer a wide-eyed child, ready to do his father’s bidding, and partly because the former King has passed away and his father now bears the sole responsibility of managing a nation. Hoseok doesn’t resent his father for it in the least; in fact, if truth is known, he respects the man immensely for the poise and grace he shows as a leader. He understands the pressures of running a country, of putting a people, a city, a nation before yourself and before your family.

“They’re going well, father. Thank you for asking,” he answers politely. His father values propriety above all else.

“Good, good. What are you learning these days?” Hoseok’s momentarily taken aback by the follow-up question; his father is not normally one to delve further after putting out the required pleasantries.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat and quickly recovers from his shock, “Namjoon and I have been studying the systems and laws of government. I find the structure of how a policy becomes law very fascinating.” His father smiles, and yes, he can’t lie, he’s like a kid again, basking in the man’s glow.

“I have been talking with Advisor Do, and he's very impressed with your grasp of procedures and your thirst to learn.” He notices the pride in the King’s tone, and he smiles back at the man.

“Please thank him for his kind words for me.”

“I will; I will indeed.” His father clears his throat, and Hoseok sits up straighter in his chair. The sound means his father is ready to tackle the reason he has brought Hoseok to his office. “I know you’re probably wondering why I summoned you here today.” A gentle knock at the door has his father pausing and Hoseok turning around.

His mother enters, and now, now Hoseok feels dread pool in his gut. Very rarely does his father invite the Queen to a meeting between them. However, when he does, it’s usually to act as a buffer between the two.

“Dear,” the woman says as she walks over and places a kiss on Hoseok’s forehead before taking the seat beside him.

“Omma.” He smiles at her.

“You know I love when you wear this color the most. Green is such a lovely shade on you.” She pats his arm from her seat.

“That’s probably why it’s my favorite, then.” She chuckles at his reply before turning to face the King.

“Now, my love, why did you call both your wife and your son to your chamber?”

The King grimaces, lips drawn together in a thin line, signifying the displeasure he takes in what he’s about to say (a trait Hoseok has inherited from the man). Hoseok can see the conflict in his father’s eyes, and the dread from earlier quadruples, building upon itself like a brick wall.

Once the King opens his mouth and begins to speak, Hoseok watches as his world comes crashing down before his eyes. He understands the words as they leave his father’s lips, filling the vacant air around him. He knows in theory what each statement means, yet, yet, yet he can’t accept their validity.  As his father continues to speak, explaining why he believes this decision to be in the best interest of their country and of their people, Hoseok sees red.

“You’re kidding me, right?” The word flies out of his mouth, and he feels no regret at his disrespectful tone. It can’t be helped. Hiding his feeling is Hoseok’s forte, but this, this he can’t abide. He refuses to pretend that he’s even slightly in agreement with the decision that is being forced on him. Taking a deep breath, he tries to remind himself he’s not just speaking to his father, but the King (but seriously, an arranged marriage?)  “Father, isn’t this a bit antiquated? We’re not living in the Stone Age; marriage is no longer a political maneuver.”

“Hoseok,” his father’s takes a breath, his voice clipped as though he’s holding back, not saying everything, and Hoseok’s moderately thankful, “my son, you’re the Crown Prince of the Red Tribe and sole heir to the throne. You, my son, don’t get the luxury of marrying for love. Your life is meant to serve the people you will one day rule. That being said, this marriage will happen. I will have no further discussion on the matter.”

“Hoseok-ah,” his mother’s voice breaks through his budding rage, “take some time. Don’t respond now. Let the reason sink in a bit more. I understand why you would be upset; marriage for political reasons seems harsh, trust me, I know. But sweetheart, sometimes the most horrible things bring the sweetest rewards.” The woman smiles at her husband, and Hoseok sees it: love, adoration, and competition. All the traits he hopes to have when he’s married, with a spouse of his choosing.

He nods, not speaking, taking his mother’s wisdom to heart.

“Very well,” he responds as he rises from his seat.

Hoseok doesn’t argue, doesn’t say the million and one things that are on the tip of his tongue. His father’s tone had demanded finality; the man had effectively cut off any and all rebuttals that Hoseok may have concerning the matter. He walks out of the meeting hall disgruntled, not angry, per se. His status in life comes with many inconveniences not faced by the majority of lay people, but it also provides many perks.

Hoseok sighs and resigns himself to his fate, knowing that although his mother had given him an opportunity for a delayed reply, there is only one answer that will be acceptable.

He flings open the door to his study in frustration and jumps slightly as the wood impacts the wall with a loud thud.

“That bad, huh?” Namjoon asks as soon as he enters his study.

“Arranged marriage,” he answers; he doesn’t need to expound.

“Oh. Wow,” Namjoon’s deep husky voice makes the reply sound more ominous than it is.

“I know, right? What century are we living in? That’s not even the worst part.” Hoseok sighs. He could live with an arranged marriage, he