On the walk to breakfast, Chanyeol is met with familiar sharp features, with eyes that brood and look through him as easily as glass, a mind that searches for weaknesses and exploits them easily. Chanyeol has spent his entire life avoiding that gaze, cowering under it, and now he’s staring into a brown abyss that knows him far too well, into a face that has shown nothing but distaste for him since they were children. Sehun stares back, features dissonant and almost pained, suit and hair strikingly dark against the muted colors of the palace. 

Chanyeol hadn’t expected to see his youngest cousin, not when he was scheduled to begin his hearing and subsequent questioning this morning, not when he’d assumed Sehun was already being investigated and condemned in front of the king.

His heart drums in his ears, a steady worry crawling through limbs and taking hold. Sehun should’ve already had his audience with the king -- they shouldn’t be able to meet in the hallway like this, even if the younger is surrounded by guards, even if Chanyeol is in his rightful mindset. This shouldn’t be happening.

Everything comes to a stand still and both men turn toward each other, two tall bodies going rigid with anger and fear and something akin to loathing, something that has been accumulating between them for years. This moment in the hallway feels like a culmination of every tear Chanyeol has ever cried, every night that he’s spent questioning what he’d ever done to deserve the younger’s hatred and to garner no more than a pitying glance from the man who rules his country.

His mind registers their exchange as a tipping point, a sudden change in the weather, a stormy cloud overhead. In Chanyeol’s world, the younger is slipping under the waves, hands grasping for anything to keep him afloat, cold and dark and suffocating -- Chanyeol can’t help, not now, not after everything that’s transpired. He watches the pale hand sink under, observes the ripples that form across the surface of the water. He feels pained and sick despite his better judgment.  

The guards step back, allowing them space to talk, and suddenly it feels like Sehun is eyeing him up for one last battle -- the tallest doesn’t even want to find out what it entails, stomach lurching as if he’d missed the last step on his way downstairs, unfamiliar and terrifying. The halls in the palace are always open and airy, but now they feel bare and off putting. The only thing that stands out against the white marble and pastel paintings is Sehun’s tall figure, his dark clothes and eyes, his biting tongue. 

“What’s with the look in your eye? You feel guilty for letting my family fall?” Sehun’s voice is trained, deliberately calm and collected. Chanyeol can sense that he feels anything but. “It’s too late to regret. You don’t deserve to care anymore. It’s your fault.”

Sehun steps forward, and his shoes ring out loudly against the floor, the sound cutting into Chanyeol’s chest and leaving gashes there, open and festering. Chanyeol can only hope that, one day, they’ll heal. Sehun’s eyes don’t betray him, unwavering and broiling with hatred with each inch he crosses toward the tallest prince.

Watching Sehun draw closer, Chanyeol is infinitely grateful that Baekhyun was too sleepy to get up and join him this morning, too exhausted to bother with putting on clothes and dragging himself down to eat with the others.

(“Chanyeol, we’ve been gone for weeks. They’ll live without my presence for one more day. Also, shouldn’t the king and Junmyeon be busy dealing with the Oh family? The higher ranking officials won’t know, after all.” There’s a tiny laugh from under the covers, amused at his own words. Chanyeol smiles, too. “Bring me back strawberries and a kiss, please.”)

It comforts him to no end to know his husband is still serenely sleeping, the soothing sound of waves and morning birds drowning out any noise that could be produced in this hallway. Baekhyun won’t be affected by Sehun anymore. He repeats it over and over like a melody, like it’s the only lifeline drifting toward him across a stormy sea. 

He steels himself, hardening his features and making sure that they’re unreadable to the younger. There is a part of his heart that tugs at the thought of what he's done, at the way he's truly torn his entire family in half, even if it is for the best, for the safety of those he cares about most. It weighs on his conscience despite it all, but he ignores the weight that settles over his shoulders, instead honing in on the details of Sehun’s suit and the medallions adorning it. 

Anything to keep his face neutral, his mind collected -- anything to prove Sehun wrong.

“I don’t care. There’s nothing for me to care about. Your family dug their own hole,” he feels as though each word he spits out is molten lava, scalding and devastating to the younger. “You and your family have lost all right for pity.”

He thinks he's hit a nerve in the younger, finally cracked some of the ice that he wears across his features. He’s wrong, if Sehun’s composed look gives him any indication. 

“My family wanted a competent ruler. We wanted change. If your king was foolish enough to trust us the most, it only proves our views correct.” 

Chanyeol stills, wondering if the guards will do anything, if this counts as a confession, if there will be any repercussions. 

Suddenly, he wonders if Sehun is on the way to his hearing or coming back from it; both possibilities make his chest tighten almost painfully. 

“I was raised by people who recognized what this nation needs, and I’m sorry you couldn't understand that both my family and your uncle are right,” Sehun smiles as he says it, thick eyebrows raising in a teasing manner, long fingers dusting off nonexistent dust from the hem of his jacket.

Chanyeol fumes, silent and tempestuous and overwhelming.

"Nothing your family or," his voice drops, hushed, secretive. "my uncle -- nothing they did was right." 

“Of course you would say that. You always were too loyal, too trusting. We set the blame on your uncle and, eventually, you," his features harden, suddenly seeming years older and a sickeningly grave. Chanyeol's mind is whirling, hands threatening to ball into fists. "We blamed you, and he believed it. He mistreated you, spoke ill of your mother at every turn, and sent you abroad at the slightest suggestion. Yet you still the ground the king walks on."

Chanyeol knows that the younger is baiting him, but there are some things that he can't bear to hear, not after weeks of working with insiders in the palace, weeks of rebelling against the king's orders in order to keep Baekhyun by his side and prove his mother innocent. He'd rebelled, and it took everything inside him to do it. Sehun has no right to say this, to belittle the agony he's waded through, the fear that gripped him so tightly each night. 

"You know nothing of what I think of the king," hearing his voice go this deep, he recoils in shock, his own boiling anger scalding him from the inside out. The words burn his tongue and the corners of his eyes. "Your family knows nothing. You are all greedy, not selfless rebels who hope for change. You wish for power and money, not for the good of the people." 

"And you're pathetic, but we figured that out rather quickly," Sehun spits it back, as if he'd rehearsed every name he'd wanted to call Chanyeol, as if these insults are nothing to him. "You sat back and did nothing your entire life. The least you could’ve done was allow yourself to grow bitter and join us -- you could have adopted our views. You could've been part of a better world, you know. It is too late to try and be bold now." 

"I could not be complacent," he struggles to take a deep breath, eyes searching to meet the eyes of the guards, to gauge their reactions. He is not sure that he has it in him to argue much more, the chaotic anger sapping every ounce of energy left streaming through his blood. "Not anymore."

For the first time, Sehun is hiding nothing from his eyes -- his entire body is stiff, lips twitching with unsaid cruelties, and Chanyeol thinks that maybe, maybe he has won in more ways than one, at least for now. 

"Complacency suits you; stupidity was my favorite of your qualities." 

The taller urges himself to calm down, to take the insult, to refrain from lunging forward. There is no way he will use force, not after enduring years of abuse from the younger, from the entire palace. He has proven his mother innocent, has doomed Sehun to whatever punishment he earns, has punished Baekhyun's assailants -- he's accomplished everything he'd promised to himself, and that is a victory in itself. 

"You won't be able to see my stupidity or complacency anymore," his next words are cruel, and it stings as he says them, a vindictive heat spreading in his stomach. "Not when you are in prison for your treasonous crimes." 

The look that Sehun gives him, Chanyeol is accustomed to -- a petty snarl of the lips, indignant eyes following his every movement as if the youngest will lunge forward in an instant, anger and violence clawing its way up his throat and turning the boy's features sour.

“You were complacent in your loneliness. You were loyal to a fault," Sehun's voice goes sweet, too kind and caring for the situation, and it makes Chanyeol's heart rate pick up. "He woke you up, though — he made you explain your past to him, made you think harder about everything, made the fire inside you reignite. Your rebelling got him hurt -- I hope you know that.” 

Baekhyun. It’s so obvious now, so blatantly clear, and Chanyeol hates the paralyzing regret that carves its icy finger tips against his spine, leaves him shaking against the dread in that clogs his veins, frozen in place.

"His pain, his tears, everything," Sehun knows that he is winning now, eyes observing the way Chanyeol's body caves in slightly. "It was all because you decided to wake up. If you didn't want to join us, you should've remained oblivious. You shouldn't have hurt him."

"I didn't hurt him. It was your family who orchestrated everything. You can't believe what you're saying, can you? You can't truly think this?" 

“The original plan was to have you pay off the middle men and get him back, you know,” Sehun looks almost bored, lips puffing up in feigned leisure, eyes brooding. “You fund us, and we scare you. It was simple. You didn't have to go through that much trouble — Baekhyun was never in any real danger."

“Don't say his name. You don't deserve to." 

Chanyeol thinks he might actually lash out now, memories of Baekhyun sobbing into his shoulder and curling in on himself flooding his mind. His mind conjures up the images of the bruises that stained his skin for weeks after, Sehun's gentle fingers touching them and faking surprise. It hurts all over again, and Chanyeol feels physically sick thinking about that night, his own form of hatred flickering in his eyes.  

“Baekhyun was supposed to be returned to you, maybe a little bruised, with a warning implied —you should stop thinking too hard about your old family and focus on keeping the new one safe instead," the younger shrugs, eyes lighting up at Chanyeol's instinctive jolt forward. "You ended the game a little too early, though. Always ruining things -- it's so like you." 

The taller jumps forward, anger finally too much to stand, his body unable to endure much more of this mental torture. He can't stand hearing Sehun talk about the worst night of his life as if it was entertaining, as if Baekhyun is nothing more than a pawn to control Chanyeol's emotions.

Rough hands grab onto the lapels of Sehun's suit, dragging him closer with every ounce of the tallest prince's strength. His hands shake, and Sehun’s eyes watch them, suddenly wide, suddenly panicked. He looks like a child, like the cousin that Chanyeol has watched grow in front of him -- like the boy who betrayed him all those years ago, the one he’d trusted and loved and never given up on. He hopes that each second passing between them feels like daggers against Sehun’s skin, that he is in agony at the thought of what he’s done. 

“I won’t do anything right now. There is no point in it. You won’t understand fully until you’re rotting in jail,” Chanyeol pushes him away roughly, momentum sending the younger prince flying to the ground, a harsh landing greeting him. “But if I ever see you in these palace walls again, I will make you regret every syllable you’ve said to me today. I hope we never meet again.”

And Chanyeol leaves him, an anguished pile of dark cloth on the pale floor, shaken and fearful for once in his life. 

--

Baekhyun doesn’t hear of their meeting, of the words that his prince spat in Sehun’s face and the dangerous way he’d used his strength over the younger. Chanyeol wants to save it for a moment when Baekhyun is ready to hear it, when things are calm and being safe feels like second nature again. He wants the smaller to know when his footing is solid and his heart at peace. Instead, he goes to breakfast and brings back strawberries and kisses for Baekhyun, brings back his entire heart and all the protection he dares to offer. 

The older man is awoken in the early afternoon to soft lips on his shoulder and a bowl of fruit pushed toward him. Chanyeol's mumbled explanation of who was at breakfast is lost in the crook of his neck, swallowed whole by hands wrapping around his and gently bringing him closer. Baekhyun thinks they finish about half of the bowl in a sleepy daze, lips sweet with juice and fingers sticky as they slap each other's hands away, laughing. The glow of relief and happiness overshadows the conversation from earlier, and Chanyeol tucks the thought away like the stray hair that he pushes into place behind Baekhyun's ear.

“Can we visit your cousins soon? There's a lot that needs to be said.”

Baekhyun’s voice is garbled from the piece of melon he's chewing on, but Chanyeol understands. Junmyeon, Minseok, Joohyun -- even Jongin and Jongdae. So many people to thank, so much news from the Ohs’ questionings to catch up on.

“I think there’s going to be a formal dinner with my family tomorrow night. We’ll find out more about the Ohs and -- well, everything.” 

Baekhyun frowns, but Chanyeol cuts him off, a tiny smile playing on his lips and faked confusion clouding his eyes. He gestures down to his clothes, to the finely pressed shirt and the watch that glitters with each movement, and then back to Baekhyun's mussed hair and oversized shirt. 

“I’m doing my best, but tomorrow you need to be gorgeous, too. We can't let Joohyun be best dressed again.” 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes at the comment, seemingly unamused, before he leans forward to across the seam of Chanyeol's smile softly. He's slow and gentle, as if he's never touched the prince's lips before, as if he's testing the waters for affection, and it leaves the air crackling between them. 

“What was that for?” Chanyeol is startled, red and flustered and leaning into each touch the older gives him. 

“You fought for everything you said you would,” Baekhyun's biting Chanyeol’s upper lip. The taller's mouth falls open immediately, and a satisfied chuckle dances across their lips. “I'm proud.”

The room adjusts to the heat that spreads between them, to the way Baekhyun melts into Chanyeol’s familiar hands and touch, to the Chanyeol lets the smaller push him back into the soft blankets of their bed. 

Baekhyun is filled with happiness, lips trailing over Chanyeol whenever he can, hands agile and motions clumsy as they move together. It feels as though they know each other so well that there is no need to map the other out; everything is calculated touches and lingering smiles and knowing kisses. Chanyeol’s large hands wrap around the back of his neck to capture his lips, calloused fingers tracing the curve of Baekhyun’s ears, the line of his jaw, the curve of his hips. 

It’s familiar and searing when they connect, when Baekhyun’s hands steady on Chanyeol’s chest and push them both over the edge, mingling breaths and whispered words drowning out anything but the way their bodies react and adapt to the other in a world of their own. 

-- 

He’s not quite sure that Chanyeol is even really awake right now, not when the taller’s eyes are fluttering closed every few seconds, when he’s basking in the sunlight that shines over their shared couch. The rays are warm on his cheekbones, gentle on the books stacked on the floor and the table, and calming to the smaller. The entire room is bathed in orange light, a twinkling array of polished wood and glimmering marble surrounding the pair. 

The palace library, Chanyeol had convinced him, was the perfect place to relax and take a deep breath before the formal dinner tonight. Baekhyun had, understandably, been shaken by the knowledge that Sehun really isn’t going to be there, by the thought of a formal dinner in that formal dining room. 

Baekhyun still isn’t quite sure that the king welcomes him back yet, if ever. He supposes he’ll find out soon enough, whether he wants to or not.

To dispel the fearful thoughts in his mind, he had leapt on the opportunity to lean into old leather sofas and talk to Chanyeol with hushed voices here. It was supposed to be a calming afternoon (a getaway of some sorts, he thinks) before he must face the king and the remaining cousins, before he knows where he stands in this palace, before everything is out in the open. 

And the library date had started off beautifully -- soft voices, carefully selected books, and opposite ends of the same couch, cozy and serene. It almost feels like what a normal couple would do on a lazy day; it’s a dream come true. But then Chanyeol decides to sprawl out on the couch, sticking his gangly legs and feet onto the older’s side, tiny yawns escaping as the orange light turns rosy over them. When he doesn’t stir for a few minutes, Baekhyun puts down the book he’d been fake reading and studies the taller’s relaxed face. 

“Chanyeol,” there is no response, just a sleepy noise from the taller, his earthy green shirt melting into the shadows of the room. “Chanyeol, wake up.”

The book that is placed across Chanyeol’s chest moves slowly with his breathing, and Baekhyun shuffles from his place on the opposite end of the couch, letting his feet creep up to steal warmth from Chanyeol’s back. It takes only a moment before Chanyeol is recoiling, a familiar expression of shock spreading over his face. 

“You’re cold!” his voice is deep and whiny, exasperated. Baekhyun smiles at the way his eyes open reluctantly, the pout that takes hold of his lips. “I was napping.” 

“You can’t nap,” a yawn in response. “We need to read books and relax like you wanted. I was told this would be a cute little date, but you’re just sticking your stinky feet in my face.” 

Chanyeol’s laughing then, the kind of laugh that is far too happy for the way Baekhyun is pouting right now, so the shorter takes matters into his own hands -- or feet, really -- and places a jab on the small of Chanyeol’s back, leaving him rolling off of the couch and onto the floor in a pile of laughter. 

“You !” Chanyeol’s voice is weak through his giggles, and Baekhyun thinks that they’re being far too loud for a library, but it’s perfectly okay. “What was that for?” 

Yes, it’s definitely okay. Chanyeol is rolling on the floor, face red with laughter, caught up in a moment that feels as real as Baekhyun had always hoped.

This Chanyeol hides nothing from him -- this Chanyeol has told him everything about his past, has fought for himself and his mother and their relationship. This Chanyeol owns his entire heart, his entire future, and Baekhyun barely registers himself jumping from the couch to lay on top of the taller. 

It’s almost instinctive, and he doesn’t fight it, relishing in the surprise on his prince’s face, on the way their eyes meet and twinkle together, binary stars in the galaxy of this room. He’s pressed against his chest so tightly, head buried against Chanyeol’s neck, laughter caught in the prince’s throat as the smaller envelopes him with greedy arms. 

“Hey,” Baekhyun whispers against his neck. He softens under him, still confused but now happily relaxed, tender hands on the small of Baekhyun’s back. “I love you a lot, I think. I just wanted to remind you.” 

They’re still on the floor of the library, lovestruck and foolish, locked in each other’s arms and soft voices. Baekhyun is tilting his head up to kiss at the bottom of Chanyeol’s ear, hoping to sneak up to his jawline and, soon, his lips. 

“Oh! That reminded me.”

Chanyeol’s shuffling under him, searching for something. Baekhyun’s groan is muffled against Chanyeol’s soft skin and he goes limp on top of the prince on purpose, trying to dissuade him from ruining this moment.

The taller disregards Baekhyun’s response to his movement, still struggling to locate something in his back pocket, mind focused on his task instead of the lingering kisses Baekhyun is giving his throat. 

“Will you stop ruining the moment?” another kiss, this time on the plane between Chanyeol’s chin and bottom lip, gentle compared to the stress in his voice. “I was trying to be cute and romantic.” 

“Oh, me too,” Chanyeol’s stopped his movements -- he’s found whatever he’s looking for, evidently, and he’s pushing Baekhyun away from him at the exact same time, a radiant smile on his face.

Now Baekhyun is straddling the taller, only slightly offended, as he looks down at him incredulously. He pushed him up off his chest, even as he tried to be sweet and romantic. 

“Chanyeol, what --” Chanyeol puts a finger over his lips, urging the smaller to be quiet, but this only makes the older huff once again, making sure to dig his bony  into Chanyeol’s stomach. “You pushed me off!”

Chanyeol ignores the way he’s whining, focusing only on whatever is held in his hand, smile never falling. It's dazzling but so infuriating -- Baekhyun likes both, likes any way Chanyeol looks at him.

“I pushed you off so you can see this.”

His palm opens and Baekhyun stops to stare, transfixed by the simple gold ring in front of him. It’s elegant, dainty, and engraved with miniscule vines and flowers, ornate and all-consuming as Baekhyun looks closer. Each petal that has been engraved is unique, detailed with tiny images that makes Baekhyun’s mind spin, that makes him think of the flowers of his prince’s palace and the vines that crawl up the side of his mother’s cottage. 

“For you,” Chanyeol pushes his palm forward, still laying flat on his back, and Baekhyun realizes that he’s still straddling the taller and hunching over the ring, amazed. If anyone were to walk in, they would look silly right now, but his heart is pounding hard enough in his ears to blur the thought.

"For me? Really?"

“It’s for you. They took our rings last time, and I got us new ones. When I'm giving it to you this time, I’m not acting like I want us to be friends. So, really, I’m doing a better job already.” 

Baekhyun is shaking from the sudden rush of emotions, the weight that this tiny piece of gold holds over him, the power of Chanyeol’s eyes watching him with such a lovingly intense stare. He looks into the brown eyes below him and sees himself reflected in them, as fragile as the ring in front of him, as beautiful as he must appear to Chanyeol. The taller looks back at him like he’s the only thing in this world, as though this moment had been on his mind all along. 

“Are you going to ask me to marry you?” Baekhyun’s throat is closing as he says the words, his chest so full of love that he feels as though he’s choking on it. “Legally, we’re already married, right? Why would you spend money on this?” 

Chanyeol’s laughing under him, voice strained with his own emotions, and Baekhyun’s whole being shakes with each round of giggles from the prince. His body goes warm at the way Chanyeol’s face twists in happiness, and he feels sweat forming on his back, nervousness joining happiness in a waltz through his bloodstream. 

“We are still legally married, right? The Chaeyoung engagement lasted two days, if that. I can’t imagine that the king finished all that paperwork to truly annul our --” Chanyeol’s hand rests on his hip comfortably, joy still glimmering across his features, and Baekhyun shifts against him, unnerved even as happiness floods his system. “Wait, can he? He can’t do it that quickly, right? Chanyeol, answer, please.” 

“Not even the king can nullify a marriage in two days,” he his lips, pink and soft and dreamlike. “We are legally married, don't worry.” 

Chanyeol’s free hand grabs for his left, calloused fingertips first tracing each of Baekhyun’s fingers and then his palm, worshipping each inch of his hand as if he’s never seen it before, as if he’s never held it before. It makes Baekhyun’s stomach flip and his throat constrict even more, this time a warning sign of his impending tears, of the sheer impact Chanyeol’s emotions and words has on him. 

The prince is adoring him with such intensity, and it makes everything feel out of control for a moment. Chanyeol’s emotions overpower him, overwhelm his every sense, and he’s not sure he’s breathing correctly, too busy focusing on Chanyeol’s eyelashes and pursed lips instead of his own heart and its erratic beating. 

“Legally, yes,” Chanyeol repeats, turning Baekhyun’s palm over to stare at the top of his hand fondly. “But you always wanted a ceremony. It was taken away. Can we have the wedding you wanted with these rings? Can I write you vows? Can I kiss you with my whole future on the line?” 

Baekhyun feels his face go hot, recognizes the prick of tears against the corners of his eyes. He’s already nodding, and Chanyeol smiles brightly even as his eyes cloud over.

Somehow, Baekhyun thinks he is the most beautiful right now, tired and sprawled out on the library’s floor, eyes focused on his hands and swimming in tears. 

“Will you marry me?” 

And Baekhyun’s gasping out a stream of yes yes yes and watching the ring fit around his shaky finger, the weight of it filling his heart completely. Then Chanyeol’s pulling another ring out, this time outfitted with intricate engravings of waves and clouds -- and Baekhyun’s shoulders shake with laughter and sobs as he takes it carefully, delicately, and places it on Chanyeol’s finger. 

“You’ll marry me, too?” 

Chanyeol uses their connected hands to pull the shorter back toward him, on top of him completely, and slants their mouths together in an electrifying kiss. 

“You know my answer already.” 

He kisses the corner of Baekhyun’s mouth and squeezes their hands together thrice. I love you, it seems to say, and the smaller returns the favor, sending his own message back: love you more.

-- 

I FINALLY UPDATED! so....

how we feeling? we like sehun suffering and getting scared? we like chanbaek FINALLY getting new rings/a wedding? i hope so lmao! we'll see the cousins more next chapter!!!! sdkfdsfkjsf 

hope you all had a good new years! love u all & feedback is always appreciated! ❤️

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