***16 Years Later***

“Taemin-ah…Taemin-ah! It’s time to get up now.” The rapping on the door came again.

Taemin groaned and rolled from his comfortable position sprawled on his stomach onto his side. He cracked one eye open. The fire in the grate had turned to smoking embers, and the blindingly bright rays of the sun were streaming through the window onto his face. He shook his head in irritation as his eyes made contact with the light and promptly squeezed it shut again. He drew the covers over his head, despite the heat that lingered in the room allowing the comforting darkness to encompass him.

“Yah, Lee Taemin!” The door to his bedroom burst open with a loud thud as Lee Sungmin barged in, having lost his patience with knocking. In long, swift strides, he made it to the bed and unceremoniously yanked the coverlets off of Taemin who yelped in protest.

“How in the world did I get such a lazy dongsang?” Sungmin demanded shaking his head incredulously. Taemin reached to take the covers back but Sungmin held them out of reach.

“Hyung, I was sleeping.” Taemin whined, shaking his dark head of hair that was sticking up in crazy directions.

“Do you even know what time it is? It’s almost one, you pabo,” clucked Sungmin. He ran a pale hand through his perfectly styled hair, “Just how late were you up last night that you sleep in so late, huh? Umma wanted to eat breakfast as a family, but you wouldn’t even get up for that. Now she’s out training the archers and won’t be back until late. She’s very annoyed at you right now by the way.”

“Yah, umma is never annoyed at me.” Taemin yawned as he swung his long legs out of bed and into the slippers that were waiting for him. He wiggled his toes and stretched his arms over his head before rubbing a fist over his eyes.

Sungmin raised an eyebrow. He looked so much like umma when he did that. He had inherited her eyes. Taemin had inherited her smile.

“At least not for very long,” Taemin amended.

“I can’t believe it. Just because you’re the youngest, you think you can get your way every time. Sleeping the day away, skipping out on your martial arts lessons and studies…”

“It’s not my fault I’m good looking enough to get my way every time. If you wanted a super-power to get people to do what you want, you should’ve been good looking too.” Taemin stood up and walked over to his wardrobe. He started rummaging inside, throwing shirts and pants over the nearby armchair and the bed behind him. Sungmin had to dodge a shirt that came soaring at his head.

“I am too good looking!” he cried as he straightened his shirt in mock indignance. “I’ll have you know that my adoring fan club grows exponentially every day.”

Taemin tugged on a white, knit sweater with long tassels swinging on the arms and a pair of equally white pants that were ornamented with black ribbons that hung down his legs. Wearing tassels and ribbons were symbols of high rank. Royals practically dripped with tassels and ribbons. Every outfit that he owned had some form of them.

 Reaching for a black double-ed trench coat (the back also laced with ribbon) that lay strewn on his bed, he slung his arms through it and began buttoning it up.

“Like that’s something to be proud of.” He rolled his eyes. Taemin had seen the many girls throughout the kingdom that stared at his older brother with glittering, star-struck eyes. He’d seen how they stared after Sungmin like he was the only light in the universe. Sungmin was very conscious and proud of that fact and Taemin didn’t think he needed a bigger ego than he already had. He finished buttoning his coat.

“You’d think you were the heir to the throne or something with that big head of yours.” Taemin scoffed.

“Well dongsang, it just so happens that I am heir to the throne.” Sungmin winked. Now that Taemin was up and dressed, his job was done. “That’s why you shouldn’t make my royal self come wake you up in the middle of the day. I’m busy too you know? I have a kingdom to run and a war to keep located up in the northern borders so that it doesn’t get closer to our people.”

“If you’re so busy, go attend to your royal duties!” Taemin called after him, “Go work all day and leave me to sleep in peace!”

Sungmin twirled in a circle to face him and stuck his tongue out at his little brother in a very un-prince-like fashion, grinned and disappeared down the corridor.

“So mature, hyung,” Taemin muttered as he ran a brush through his hair, taming it into a presentable mess. He stepped outside his room. Although the palace was always heated well, the winter snows outside were something to be reckoned with.

Taemin strode down the palace’s intricate, majestic staircases. Descending from the upper floors crowded with bedrooms down to the lower quarters where the servants bustled through the days tasks, Taemin slipped through the milling people decked out in the familiar uniforms of white aprons, caps pulled over dark hair, black tops and trousers until he entered a brightly lit stone room teeming with savory, seductive aromas.

Big pots simmered in the great fireplace. Fresh bread was coming out of the oven, the countertops were strewn with cutting boards loaded with savory vegetables and fresh spices, and servants stirred, sliced, and test-tasted all around him. They hadn’t noticed him in the entrance yet.

Taemin closed his eyes and breathed it in.  His traitorous stomach let out a rumble of desire. Silently creeping up to a table heaped with delicacies, he grabbed a plate and loaded it with cakes, a fresh bowl of light, delicate soup, and some bloom-berry fruit…his favorite. Looking around, he took great satisfaction to see he’d been stealthy enough to avoid the head chef’s notice as she was busy peering into the oven at some fancy concoction she was creating.

Grinning at his success, he turned around with his plate in hand, only to see a palace maid staring boldly at him from across the room. Smiling cheekily at her, he put a finger to his lips and winked as he slipped out a side entrance.

He noted that the girl turned beet red and quickly averted her gaze. She would keep his secret. Taemin headed out of doors to a small, more secluded part of the palace grounds, near the hedged gardens. There, the young prince settled himself on a stone bench and began to devour his spoils. Stuffing his face in a very unbecoming manner, he savored the texture of the sticky cakes and the smooth consistency of the soup. Smacking his lips in contentment, he gazed over the grounds. The hot food warmed him up as he sat amidst the snow drifts that sparkled in the sunlight.

Taemin closed his eyes as he lazily sat back and felt the cold bite at his skin that wasn’t covered by his clothing. As the youngest of the two princes in the palace, he was spoiled. He didn’t even try to deny it, and it was an undisputed truth amongst all the palace staff.

His father was always busy with running the kingdom, and protecting their borders from the Mages. The man only had two things, it seemed to Taemin, that he really cared about: Protecting his kingdom, and Sungmin. It was Sungmin King Lee really loved, and it wasn’t really that shocking. Sungmin was the oldest after all, and it was a matter of utmost importance making sure the crown prince knew his duties, and was prepared to rule when the time came. Taemin was hardly worth his father’s notice. He never had to worry about arousing his father’s wrath unless he really stepped out of line. Basically, he could do whatever he wanted as long as his father never found out about all his pranks. To his father, Taemin was just another variable to his life, but not considered a priority.

His mother on the other hand, doted on him. Taemin had always had a strong connection with her, and although he would never say it out loud, he would do anything for her. She was everything a mother ought to be: kind, gentle, yet strong, regal, and stubborn. She had been the one to see that, at an early age, Taemin had been fascinated with fire. She hadn’t discouraged him from his obsession, rather she had taught him the ancient stories, and had him trained in how to handle fire safely. Because of her, he had been allowed to apprentice himself to Master Jong Younghwa, the kingdom’s finest blacksmith.

Most people would never have allowed a prince to set foot in a trader’s quarters much less apprentice him to a blacksmith, but his mother was not most people. She had even allowed him to follow the servants who lighted the evening torches and stoked the fires. Because of this, Taemin knew how to start a fire and use it to create. He had become a master blacksmith and had learned fire safety so as not to accidentally burn the palace down…which he’d almost done once… on accident, of course.

Then there was Sungmin. What more needed to be said? Sungmin was Sungmin. He was the perfect heir to the kingdom. Smart, good-natured, bold and brave, intelligent and compassionate. Sungmin was the complete stereotype of the proper prince. He could hold his own in battle, and he would protect the kingdom with his life. He was always very busy. Father would send him out to take care of the kingdom and help in major decision making regarding the war up north with….the Mages.

Taemin’s mind turned grim as his thoughts began to flow in a different direction. Ever since the Flame Keepers had disappeared millennia ago, the Mages had started to test his kingdom’s boarders. It had started as raids, and small skirmishes for a few years. As time had passed, the Mages had grown more daring. They had organized themselves into small armies fighting Taemin’s people, growing somehow stronger as the years passed.

Taemin’s people still possessed the power to create fire, in the old-fashioned way using flint and steel to generate sparks and tinder to help the flames catch. It wasn’t as glorious as what the Flame Keepers would have been able to do had they still existed, still it was enough of a threat to drive the Mages back…for now. How much longer until the Mages became immune to the threat of flames?

The Mages hated fire. Their power, after all, came from the earth. Using their uncanny ability to help plants grow at will, to magnify a plant’s potency, were their strong points. But fire and plants do not get along well together. Through the years, the Mages had started driving Taemin’s people back. Now, the king often went out to lead their armies to battle; in fact, he had been gone for months now, living up in the northern borders of the kingdom to fend off the Mages attacks. As King Lee was out on the front right now, that left Sungmin to manage the affairs of the kingdom in his absence.

“Your highness!” a voice called out, rousing Taemin from his thoughts. “Your highness!”

Taemin glanced over as a portly servant scurried up the walk, trying not to slip on the ice. Park Kyusun’s face was cherry red, his cheeks rounded more than they normally were as he gulped air into his lungs like a fish out of water.

“What is it?” Taemin sighed scratching the back of his neck absently and trying heroically, if unsuccessfully, to stifle another yawn.

“Your presence is desired at your martial arts class with the other noble children of the kingdom.” Kyusun panted.

“You came all this way to try to get me to class?” Taemin asked disbelievingly.

“The queen specifically desires you to attend your classes. It was her request sir.”

Taemin ruffled his hand through his hair, blew out an inconvenienced breath, and stood up, “Arasso. Tell mother I’ll be there.” He his heel and headed to the practice fields out in the meadows nearby while Kyusun bobbed his round torso in a bow of acknowledgement.

Taemin made his way out onto the sparring ground where the clang of long wooden poles, and yells from the noble’s young sons rang out. He watched as young men in leather jerkins flipped and vaulted through the air, aiming perfectly calculated kicks and punches, slicing through the air at each other. A few girls were there, though a drastically smaller number compared to the men. In all, about 60 people were present. There were a handful of dummies made of hay off to the right where knife throwing practice was set up. None of those practicing wore their tassels, as they were all dressed in common training gear. When practice was over, they’d don their colorful wardrobes that would signify their noble rank.

“Your highness,” a group of students near him straightened and bowed before turning back to their routine. Taemin nodded at them and headed over to