They don't end up in the gargantuan, airy dining room Baekhyun has become so accustomed to. Instead, they wind through familiar halls and descend unfamiliar stairs, transcending past the open feel of the palace he's come to know.

Down here, only slightly below the surface of the world, Baekhyun watches the walls fade from their comforting orange tone into one of dusty pink, a color that speaks of love and trust and gentle smiles. Baekhyun likes this immediately, adores the way his hand (held in Chanyeol's, per usual) is shaded rose and made softer in this light. 

In this atmosphere, the world is blurred around the edges, painted pink with Chanyeol's calming words and fingertips.

"We aren't eating upstairs? I thought it was a formal dinner," Baekhyun knows he sounds confused, his words dancing from wall to wall in this new environment. Chanyeol reigns them in, his gaze unwavering as he leads them around another corner easily, clearly used to this part of the palace. 

"It is a formal dinner. Tonight Joohyun is hosting, apparently. I don't think my uncle will be able to attend." 

The words hang in the air like stars in the sky, obvious and glimmering -- their true meaning is only vaguely hidden among the clouds of Chanyeol’s voice. The king won't be dining with them tonight because of the Oh family, it becomes clear. Chanyeol won't admit it, though, so Baekhyun absorbs this information and gives the taller's hand a miniscule squeeze, just enough to remind him that they are connected.

“It’s probably for the best,” he’s given a tiny, saddened smile in response, foreign and simmering on Chanyeol’s lips. Baekhyun lifts Chanyeol’s hand in his own, placing a small kiss on the back of it. “Don’t overthink. He would only make everything uncomfortable. It’ll be easier to talk without him, won’t it?” 

Chanyeol’s eyes are still burning into their connected hands, intense and overwhelming. The shorter can’t help but to move away instinctively, and now their arms are stretched out, poised for a ballroom dance, illuminated by soft pink light. This moment feels so delicate, so breakable, and it makes Baekhyun ache with happiness and pride and anxiety all the same. 

“I like it when you do that,” Chanyeol’s pulled him close once again, two bodies fading into the rosy atmosphere, a bouquet of carnations coming into bloom. “When you kiss my hand and when you know what to say, I like it. But you already know that.” 

Baekhyun’s smiling, every inch of his skin alight with the praise, his stomach churning with anticipation as Chanyeol’s lips move forward to press against his. No matter how many times they’ve been like this, Baekhyun is still startled by the width of Chanyeol’s shoulders, by the way the taller’s actions send shivers down his spine. The knowledge that one of the rings finding their way around the back of his neck is an ornate engagement band sends his mind spinning -- he’s smiling against the taller’s lips, happiness infectious. They pull away, only slightly breathless and filled with laughter, before Chanyeol’s fingertips find his again, leading him further along the pink corridor.

"It will be all right, won't it?" Chanyeol's voice is strained, and Baekhyun's thumb is rubbing over the back of the taller's hand gently, unspoken affirmation dancing between them. "It's just a dinner. And I do need to see my cousins." 

"It's just a dinner," Baekhyun lets his voice drop at the last word, quieting down as they cross through an archway into a more vibrantly pink hallway -- here, the walls are void of dusty rose, a cherry blossom . There are more voices now, some distinctly familiar, some foreign to him completely. Among the cloying scent of flowers, there is anxiety dancing through the air, and Chanyeol's slowed his steps too, seemingly timid at the reality set before him, at the proximity of it all. 

“I don’t think I want to find out what’s happened,” Chanyeol sounds small, afraid. “I know I caused this, but I don’t know if I want to hear an actual sentence, not when all my cousins are there, not when I’m the one who --” 

Leaning his forehead on the prince’s shoulder, Baekhyun puts an end to his stuttering words with comforting touches. The taller’s breath fans out feather light against the top of his head, as gentle as the temperate pink surrounding them, barely softer than the way Chanyeol’s gaze filters through his eyelashes. 

“You’re not at fault,” he nods along with the words, and Baekhyun catches a hint of tension leave his features. “That family is; he is.”

And something in those words must’ve hit home, surely, because now Chanyeol’s hand is steadying on his elbow, face resolute and drawing closer with each beat of Baekhyun's pulse. 

“I did it for both my mother and you. And I feel guilty and terrified and awful when I think of Sehun, but I don’t regret it. I never will.” 

The taller turns at the last moment, his nose barely grazing Baekhyun's, turning to stare at the ground instead, a sudden wave of emotion seemingly distracting him. Even as the smaller takes a step closer, Chanyeol's face remains zoned out, stoic as he studies the intricacies of the floor in great detail.

Maybe he does regret putting everything on the line, after all. Baekhyun hates that the thought even crosses his mind, but he can't stop it, for it moves so suddenly and fluidly, a painful flash of fear trampling the flowers blooming in his chest.

Baekhyun busies himself with memorizing the lines of Chanyeol’s face, the pout of his lip, the dip of his shoulders. He hopes there is no regret, just like Chanyeol assures, just like his expression betrays. 

"Oh, look at you," he smiles when he says it, familiar glow in his eyes as he attempts to lighten the air drowning them both, to quiet the fear that trembles in their fingertips. "You're such a valiant prince. Should we fight a dragon next?" 

Baekhyun lets out a gasp when Chanyeol’s lips connect with his, so soft and sweet he swears he could’ve dreamt the sensation all along. It’s tender, reassuring, and Baekhyun feel satiated when one of Chanyeol’s large hands moves to trace his cheek gently, the ghost of a touch lingering there for a moment longer. 

"I just want to survive dinner, actually," his voice is close and full of warmth, teeming with all the reassurance Baekhyun needs for now. "Dragon battle will have to be tomorrow -- if we have time." 

And then Chanyeol pulls them from their position, beelining for an arch on the far side of the marble corridor. Baekhyun watches the tips of the his ears dye a shade of pink as vibrant the walls, relaxing finally at the sight of his prince’s wide shoulders crossing through the archway in front of them. 

Even as they enter the room and meet countless eyes, the moment of simple peace spreading between their connected hands and minds doesn't fade, tinting them red as roses in the doorway. 

"Nice of you to join us, lovebirds," Jongin smiles the words out, voice deep and fond. Chanyeol smiles back naturally, all teeth and sunshine, even as his hands tremble with nerves.

Baekhyun wonders when they became so close, when he garnered a look of soft admiration from this prince -- was it their silent car ride from the hotel, or the light carried in Chanyeol’s eyes when he was spoken of? He can’t figure it out, but judging from the somber looks on the rest of the cousins’ faces, Baekhyun should hold onto this kindness with all the strength he can muster. 

“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” Chanyeol speaks with an awkward formalness reserved solely for his family and palace officials, enunciates with the dialect Baekhyun still fumbles over. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to Joohyun’s quarters, I almost got lost on the way.” 

"Well, I believe you -- it certainly took you long enough," Joohyun is the only cousin who stands to greet them, lilac gown trailing after her as she discards her cloth napkin on the table and hurries in their direction. “I am glad you could both come. Truly.”  

The table is rectangular and oversized for the amount of guests dining, but Baekhyun is used to it -- his own family had always preferred opulence over practicality, and the palace has never shown him any differently. Carved fruit and flowers fill the center of it, and Baekhyun locates the two empty seats clearly saved for them. He doesn’t miss the already-filled bowls of rice and soup atop their off-white placemats, a regretful sort of dread taking hold of his stomach.

Clearly, he and Chanyeol goofed off in the library for too long, took their time on the trip down, and made everyone else wait for their arrival. He must say something for them both -- and so he opens his mouth to speak in front of the cousins for the first time in far too long, nervously twisting his newest ring as his mind formulates his sentiments. 

“I was nervous to walk around the palace, and I got us sidetracked. I apologize.” 

“Sit, sit,” Joohyun’s closer now, he realizes, and suddenly her perfume is clouding his mind, her tiny frame wrapping itself around his in a fragile hug. His entire world has shifted from pink to purple in the last second, senses overrun with springtime flowers and silky hair against his cheek. “We’ve barely started eating. Don’t fret.”

And once Chanyeol’s had his chance to pull Joohyun closer to him for a miniscule hug, they follow her advice, settling into their respective seats and exchanging greeting looks with the cousins surrounding them. 

“This is a sight,” a crack forms in Minseok’s grave expression, and Baekhyun looks at him with hopes of melting it further, pleasantly surprised when the prince allows him a tiny grin in return. “I was not sure I would ever see you both again -- and I never thought we would lose the baby of the family. It’s been a strange few days.” 

They continue to eat, the sound of chewing uncomfortably loud in Baekhyun’s ears, the clinking of silverware against plates deafening. Chanyeol’s left hand remains by his thigh, gripping his chair in panic, and it takes everything in Baekhyun’s power to refrain from taking hold of it and pressing a kiss to his ring finger. 

“The baby is a fully grown man,” Jongdae points out, and no one misses the droop in his shoulders, the despondency in his tone, the sadness in his eyes. “He knows what he’s done, and I should’ve known even sooner. No matter, both the crown prince and the king are safe because of what’s happened. I wish he’d been caught sooner.” 

He knows all too well that Jongdae was closest to the Oh heir, that the anger he radiates has no target other than himself, that his sorrow can’t be articulated. Kyungsoo turns from the scene altogether, a blank expression masking the hurt on his features. It pains Baekhyun to watch someone fold inward like that, and it’s excruciating when Chanyeol’s eyes fix on the ceiling, fighting back tears at his cousin’s words.

“Jongdae, please.” 

Joohyun’s voice cracks when she says it, and a second later, Yixing’s hand lands softly on her elbow, keeping a slow tempo against her forearm as she breathes deeply. Baekhyun wants to speak up for her sake, but then she’s sipping on her wine, eyes closed, and he decides it’s best to leave her be, if only for a moment.

“You’re all torn up about his betrayal, yet no one is angry at his sentence,” Kyungsoo’s voice is gravelly, full of turmoil, laced with a vindictive emotion that makes Chanyeol’s head snap toward him. They’re staring each other down, and now Baekhyun can’t help but reach for his prince’s hand under the table, a primal instinct to protect Chanyeol taking over his mind. “Exile is nothing compared to what your uncle received. We all know why.” 

Exile. No death penalty, no jail, no public outcry, injustice.

“It’s to save face. He is still a child in our people’s eyes.”  

He’d almost forgotten that Junmyeon was here at all, but the crown prince’s shoulders are squared when he speaks, his authoritative aura smothering Kyungsoo’s burning stare in an instant.

“I have been raised to expect threats to our country and my throne, even from my own family. I have been raised to show that traitors are nothing more than dirt under our shoes,” he says the words as if they taste foul on his tongue, tripping over them and attempting to spit each syllable out harder than the last. “But I have never been instructed of the right way to lose a family member. Especially one so beloved by the people I vow to protect.” 

Chanyeol’s hand is limp against the chair, and Baekhyun attempts to bring it back to life with his own, heart floating somewhere in between anger and solace. There is seemingly no justice in exile, though he knows Chanyeol would be irreparable if he’d caused any more loss -- there is nothing to do but hold him closer, than to remind him that his mother would be proud, that Sehun knew well enough what he was doing, that his family and people will recover. 

“I know it’s not my place,” Baekhyun is scared to finish his sentence, terrified to come to terms with the family he’s ripped away from these people, with the emptiness dancing its way through Chanyeol’s chest right now. “But I am grateful that no one else was hurt.”

Protect Chanyeol, pull him closer, kiss his eyelids, keep his heart safe. 

“I can only ask for that,” Chanyeol’s voice is hoarse, almost a whisper, and suddenly his hand is gripping back desperately, as if a trance has been broken, as if he’s coming out of a horrible nightmare. “I want my mother to be remembered for her kindness, not for her treacherous brother, and I want them all punished. But I don’t know if I can handle what I want. I would just like to be happy.” 

There is no fake confidence in his voice, no arrogance that covers the scared boy inside -- it is just Chanyeol speaking, voice suddenly clear after so many years, and Baekhyun could cry at the thought. Instead, he tightens his grip on his husband’s hand and takes a sip of his own wine as the rest of the cousins slowly resume their eating, the earlier onslaught of conversation now ebbing into mumbled words, into a broken family trying to recollect their pieces without anyone cutting their fingertips. 

“You protected us all,” he whispers it against the shell of Chanyeol’s ear a moment later, finger twirling the engagement band around on his husband’s finger, a tiny reminder of the love that he holds for the taller, of the comfort he will always try to provide. “Let us protect you now.”

The prince nods, gentle as the zephyrs that cling to their open windows in the early morning, as calming as their intertwined legs when they’re far too exhausted to think about anything other than stealing each other’s warmth.

“We’re all awaiting your wedding,” Joohyun looks beautiful in this light, an angelic glow dusting her shoulders and cheekbones. “We would like for you to be happy, you know.” 

These pieces will take a long time to put back together, but Baekhyun has an entire lifetime to help out, and he doesn’t mind, not when his husband holds his hand like that, when he whispers back “you’ve always protected me” so soft against his scalp.

--

Baekhyun's head is aching -- there are too many flavors, too many colors, too many textures, too many choices. It's barely midday and he's been subjected to hours of overwhelming color palettes and a stifling amount of flower combinations, all for the sake of his and Chanyeol's wedding, all for the sake of having something to televise for the king's peace of mind. 

It's funny, he thinks, that even now, after all they've been through, the old man has a say in their ceremony and how they carry themselves in front of the country. Nothing too ostentatious or dazzling was specified to them both, his weathered features and tired eyes piercing them with the finality of his words.

"I don't like that," her voice rings out, timid in tone but firm in its opinion. "I wish diamonds and jewels weren't off limits. Pearls are nice, but only pearls? It’s bland, for a royal wedding. Right, Joohyun?" 

Baekhyun thinks of all the royal weddings he’d ever watched, the understated palettes and traditional airs about them, but then Joohyun is nodding along. Evidently, she takes Chaeyoung’s side once again -- he isn’t surprised, not since he asked the reason of her prolonged stay in the palace and got a vague answer about staying in Joohyun’s quarters for the time being, her cheeks flushing an unnatural red. 

“We’ll make do with pearls, I suppose,” Joohyun jokes, and for the first time, Baekhyun sees something sparkle in her eyes that disregards her constant grace -- she’s teasing him and Chaeyoung, voice filled with a childish glee. “Though I’m not sure if Baekhyun will be comfortable piercing his ears in order for them to actually be visible.” 

Chanyeol’s former fiancée laughs at that, and then there are long nails squeezing his earlobe, inspecting it with all the familiarity Baekhyun hadn’t expected Chaeyoung to possess. He knows, of course, what’s she’s noticed -- though he wonders what the guards and palace staff must be thinking as they walk by, if they question the spectacle in front of them. 

“They’re already pierced,” she informs the princess with a smile. “Chanyeol will have his crest, pins, and jewels on his suit jacket? Or pearls only? Does that apply to his accessories as well?” 

The fairy tale wedding, Baekhyun realizes, is only fun when kept in story books -- it is exhausting work, and he’d much rather kiss by the fire in the cottage, slow dance in the garden, and rest against Chanyeol’s chest on the couch in lieu of an actual ceremony. This he tells himself, even as he stares dreamily at the ring on his finger, at the thought of officially being seen as a royal family member, as the one who holds Chanyeol’s world in his smile.

“Family crest, yes, jewels, yes, and all his pins as well. As far as I know, there is a pearl adornment being crafted as we speak. Baekhyun, you’ll both have flowers along with your jewels and pins. Traditionally, these are primroses, though I don’t know if you want to change it. I wouldn’t suggest that, but I do understand if you would like to bring some of your own customs into the mix --” 

“Joohyun, let’s slow down,” Chaeyoung laughs it out, and Joohyun closes her tiny mouth, seemingly pleased at the comment, at the way she captures the other’s attention. 

Baekhyun likes it, too; seeing her happy is a world of happiness for himself. 

At the moment, Chanyeol is meeting with Junmyeon as they finalize the procedures needed to deal fully with the Oh family, the both of them talking it out over some archery practice in the gardens. He can’t quite remember, but Kyungsoo might’ve been going too -- the thought puts him at ease. 

Piece by piece, Baekhyun watches Chanyeol try to figure out where he belongs in this family when he’s being himself, when he knows he has someone to return to at the end of the day. 

And Baekhyun likes to fit into the puzzle too, enjoys reading with Jongin in the library and going for walks with Joohyun when the sun starts to disappear beyond the horizon. Sometimes, he thinks too hard about Chanyeol’s childhood, hears the hush in Jongdae’s voice when he wants to tell a story and realizes halfway through that Sehun was involved, and it gets difficult to piece things back together at all -- his fingertips swell with blood for a moment, a tiny knick in the armor he covers himself and his prince with at all times. 

But then he’s laying in bed, reminding Chanyeol that one day they’ll adopt a child and that they’ll move the sky and earth to make them fit into their own little puzzle, and there are bandages wrapped around him, keeping him safe from anything and everything he could ever fear.

He smiles toward the two girls, and it feels real. 

“I think primroses are lovely.”

--

Maybe he should be more nervous, but there’s never been anything to fear when he’s with Baekhyun, even now, even as he glimmers in this evening sun, pearl earrings dangling and striking face dewy. Even as he wears Chanyeol’s own crest on his chest, even as he blinks away tears and whispers sweet words of forever with glossy lips, there is nothing but joy, but a feeling of being complete after far too long of feeling defective and alone. 

Everyone he knows is here, including Baekhyun’s loud friends and silent parents, including his entire family and their guests, all lined up in this garden, eyes wide and outfits pastel against the green of the grass, against the bright colors of the flowers that engulf them. There is a camera somewhere, and he knows that his people watch on as it all happens, knows his citizens can read the love in his eyes plainly; he doesn’t try to hide it. 

There are no personal vows, not on national television, not when Baekhyun’s betraying his makeup artist with tiny tears and quivering lips, not when Chanyeol can only smile in return and ignore the tears that cloud his vision too. 

They’re bowing to their parents and each other, foreheads so close, and then, finally Chanyeol feels familiar lips meet his, feels his shaking hands and lips and legs regain their stability, a moment of clarity filling him -- they’re married. The world is shaking with clapping and happy cheers and maybe Chanyeol’s own stuttered sobs, but that’s okay, because they’re pulling apart with arms outstretched and twin smiles. The world is a soft orange, and Baekhyun’s hand in his tints him a million other colors, leaves him breathless as they walk the short distance back from the altar. 

That night, when the camera has left, when they’re alone with all of their family and friends, when they dance so slowly to the melody composed for Chanyeol, they whisper in each other’s ears, voices more delicate than the primroses being crushed between their chests. 

“I once told you that you were the ocean and I was the sunrise and that’d I’d tell you more in our vows, and, honestly, I still don’t know what I was trying to say,” Baekhyun’s laughing it out, voice thick with his emotions, and Chanyeol would do anything to frame that smile forever in his memory. “I think that was my cowardly way of telling you I love you. I know that for certain -- I love you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.” 

He pushes back a piece of hair, letting his hand linger against Baekhyun’s ear, trailing it back down his jawline -- a tiny kiss on his lips, a moment of sweetness that tastes like the champagne toasts from minutes before.

And then it’s his turn to say something heartfelt and profound, and there’s too much to say, too many words to form, and all his vows have fled his mind. His mind is blank, but one thing is undeniable, and one thing flows through his veins. 

“I love you more than anything. You make my life wonderful, and I feel alive when I’m with you. I want to make yours wonderful too.” 

Chanyeol earns himself another kiss, though most of the focus is on their noses rubbing together, soft and childish, pure in a way that makes him feel dizzy. And they lean in closer together, Baekhyun’s head nestling into the junction of Chanyeol’s chest and shoulder, breathing in the night air and the smell of his husband’s cologne, feeling as though his life is already wonderful enough in this moment to last him a lifetime. 

--

For their honeymoon, they go to Seoul, and Baekhyun falls in love all over again, in a way he’s always dreamed of -- in a carefree way, one that feels as dazzling as the skyline. It’s Chanyeol with his tousled hair in the city wind, Chanyeol with his ringed fingers and creased brow, Chanyeol in the street lights, bathed in orange and laughing at the crowds that walk below their window, paying him and his loud music no mind. And it’s Chanyeol curling up next to him in bed, mumbling about the sound of traffic and loud voices that drift through the window. It’s Chanyeol in an expensive suit for a date night at Seoul’s finest, and it’s Chanyeol sitting in his pajamas when they decide to order take out the next night. 

Mostly, it’s Chanyeol holding his hand no matter where they’re headed, eyes curious and accepting and full of love. 

And on their last night in the city that Baekhyun cherishes with his entire being, Chanyeol reveals that he has something planned, expression mischievous as he wraps an arm around the shorter’s shoulders, coaxing him into a taxi and refusing to give any hints -- instead, he gives only kisses (tiny ones, barely even a peck, and Baekhyun pouts against the prince’s smile, not used to being denied any affection.) 

“Okay,” Chanyeol’s hands cover his eyes completely, and the taxi stops. When they step out, it doesn’t feel like much has changed since they left their hotel suite -- the same drone of traffic sings to him on their way to the door.  

Only after a minute-long elevator ride and a key card fumbling around in the background does the hand remove itself from Baekhyun’s eyes, leaving him blinking and squinting against the sudden brightness in front of him, against the almost fluorescent lighting and too-white surfaces of this foreign room. 

Except, maybe it’s not foreign -- the couch and countertop seem familiar, and suddenly Baekhyun can remember stealing a shirt from that coffee table months before, can remember abandoning a showering Chanyeol in his hungover panic. It clicks: they’re at the apartment Chanyeol was staying at for their signing meeting, and Baekhyun is lost for words. He settles on laughing instead, meeting his husband’s proud gaze and matching the happiness he’s being sent. 

“This is a bit cheesy, but I like it,” Baekhyun moves toward Chanyeol, arms wrapping around his torso naturally. “Is this your way of flirting with me? Are you hinting at something?” 

Chanyeol pushes him off -- feigned shock swimming in his eyes, a palm covering his mouth, scandalized. 

“Excuse me! Do I even know you?” 

Baekhyun giggles, shaking his head, and watches as the taller looks him up and down, seemingly assessing him. 

“Well, if you don’t have anyone else to dance with and take home, I guess I could take you up on your offer.” 

Baekhyun shakes his head vehemently, eyes narrowing at the handsome man standing in front of him, at the daring gaze he throws back. He can’t believe he loves this, can’t believe he’d truly give anything to make this fool smile. 

“I’m a married man, thank you very much,” he waves his left hand, sighing. “I don’t know if my husband would like me being hit on by some random guy.” 

And Chanyeol dissolves into laughter, catching Baekhyun’s lips with his own, pulling them closer together in the center of the living room. The shorter sighs, content, and watches the world dance in his prince’s eyes when he pulls away. 

“I don’t think he’d mind.” 

--

IT'S OVER! it took me months to finally get back to writing, but now that i have, it's only to say goodbye to my baby :( 

i really appreciate everyone who stuck it out and got to the end of this story!! love you all so much and i'm really grateful! feedback is always appreciated, and i hope you're all doing well my darlings <3

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