One attack. That was all it took for the king to make a fuss. One stupid goblin attack on the road from Gyeongju to Hanyang and Kyungsoo was sent packing on a long trek into the mountains with mist that never cleared. It was for his own good, his father said.

It is for his own good Kyungsoo is being sent to one of the most famous (and most mysterious) schools in Joseon, the Tiger Mountain School. He has two objectives, according to his father, the king: learn to fight (even though Kyungsoo insisted he knew how to fight well enough, thank you), and retrain the guards (which also entailed choosing a captain for the guard from the students among the school).

The journey takes two weeks; three days of paved roads and smooth riding, then just over a week and a half of dirt roads, pebble roads (the worst kind; they stopped often to dislodge pebbles from the horseshoes), winding roads and lazy looping roads. Kyungsoo hates them all. He’s never been much of an outdoors person; his brothers liked the roughhousing, the bragging rights on who could spit the farthest (which gross), the sword practice and archery practice, the horse riding and the long walks in the palace garden. Kyungsoo prefers the comfort of indoors, the smell of ink and paper, the ever present steaming cup of tea and the sweet rice cakes stuffed with syrup. He’s the youngest prince; it’s because of this the king is soft on him. And it’s because of this Kyungsoo is now far from home. He’d whined about missing Chuseok, about missing Seollal with the family, about his duties as a prince because father, I am nothing if not a filial son but the king had only waved these concerns away with a smile.

This means Kyungsoo sulks for the whole trip. It takes work to sulk the way a spoiled prince does; slumped in the saddle, always a frown, and never a word to the others. The two idiot guards with him, Jaehwan and Moonkyu, don’t say much anyway. A relief, truly; Kyungsoo would hate to entertain stupid questions when it was their fault they were making this trip anyway.

The morning of their arrival is even worse than the others. Three days of mist means their clothes are perpetually damp, their fires don’t start, their horses slip on the loose, wet pebbles; it means Kyungsoo is in a foul mood. But even the foul mood lessens when they reach the gate. It’s massive, four times Kyungsoo’s height, of solid metal with a curling tiger at its center. It’s been wedged directly into the mountain wall, which is thick and gray and so solid Kyungsoo can’t wrap his mind around it. There’s a shout from above and Kyungsoo spies the guard on a ledge, farther up than he expected. It’s tough, trying to see things when his eyesight . A moment later, the gate grinds open and they’re allowed in.

Kyungsoo isn’t naive, or at least he likes to think he isn’t, but he wasn’t expecting such a bare welcome. The headmaster, a shriveled old man with white hair half tied in a bun and a trailing white beard, makes his way over to them, slow, leisurely steps. Kyungsoo grinds his teeth, takes a deep breath, and fails spectacularly at keeping his calm.

“It’s rather cold out, no?” he asks.

The headmaster continues his walk, stopping at the center of the courtyard. He chuckles, face wrinkled impossibly, and gives him a curt nod.

“Might be something you want to get used to, little prince,” says the headmaster.

Kyungsoo bristles. Little prince? He was the smallest of his brothers, that much was true, but the headmaster was even smaller, withered and old. He opens his mouth to reply, but someone robs his attention before he speaks. A student, clearly, from his black uniform and the poise with which he holds himself. He’s all legs, tall and toned, his uniform tight around the arms, something that makes Kyungsoo blush; he’s thankful the cold has already pinked his cheeks or he would’ve been far more embarrassed. The student takes no notice of him, standing beside the headmaster with a familiarity that makes Kyungsoo suspect this is where he always stands. He’s a little too far for Kyungsoo to make out his features well, but from what he can make out, the student is gorgeous. He really needs to get a better look.

“Jongin, help the little prince down, eh?” the headmaster says, gesturing at Kyungsoo.

“That won’t be necessary,” Kyungsoo grumbles.

It doesn’t help his crankiness to realize that the student (Jongin, Kyungsoo corrects), hadn’t bothered to take a step towards him. How rude of him. Kyungsoo hops off, lets out an impressive string of expletives (because he wasn’t used to riding for so long, he’s sore all over), and leans against the horse. The headmaster waits for him to finish. Jongin raises an eyebrow.

“I need a hot bath, and food,” Kyungsoo snaps.

“All in good time, son,” says the headmaster. “How about taking your things to your room first?”

“My guards can do that,” Kyungsoo says.

The headmaster smiles. Kyungsoo hates that.

“Very well,” he says, nodding at Jaehwan and Moonkyu. They scramble off their horses (and Moonkyu slips on the slick pebbles, it’s almost enough to make Kyungsoo laugh), take Kyungsoo’s things, and wait for the next command. “Follow me.” He nods to the two students who walk out then; they take the horses. With the same leisurely pace, the headmaster walks them to the main living quarters. It doesn’t take long for them to find Kyungsoo’s room; in fact, he doesn’t think it’s much of a room at all. It’s more of a glorified closet with a bed and just enough room for a small desk and cushion. His guards have the room next door, which they’ll share. Kyungsoo has half a mind to complain, but the other discomforts take precedence, so he whirls to face the headmaster.

“The bath now, I presume?” he asks.

The headmaster laughs, revealing a few missing teeth; Kyungsoo is caught a little off guard.

“Lucky for us, you’re quite concerned with hygiene,” says the headmaster. “I’ve lost count of how many boys I’ve had to punish for skipping out on baths, some of them for days at a time.”

Kyungsoo pales at this. What has his father gotten him into?

“Come, come, you can get started while we find some uniforms for you,” says the headmaster.

The bathing rooms are on the other side of the building. There are three of them, steaming pools fed by the hot springs of the mountain. And they are all communal. Kyungsoo balks, blinking when a man with drooping asscheeks walks by, scratching his chest with a nonchalance Kyungsoo can’t understand.

“I’m a prince,” he hisses.

“Yes,” says the headmaster, and nothing else.

Kyungsoo huffs, then groans, then his teeth.

“What I mean is you can’t expect me to bathe with all of these people here,” he says.

“Why not? I bathe here myself, you know,” says the headmaster.

Kyungsoo tries not to picture shriveled asscheeks, even sadder than those of the other man, and fails miserably. Jongin, he notices, finally smiles.

“But I’m—” he stops. “Oh forget it.”

“If you would like privacy to bathe, I would suggest the early morning for that,” says the headmaster with his gap-toothed grin.

Kyungsoo grunts.

“Well, when you’ve finished, you’re welcome to join us for the evening meal at the mess hall. Jongin can show you the way,” says the headmaster.

With that he leaves, humming a tune. Now it’s just Kyungsoo and Jongin. And the other men and boys already bathing, which Kyungsoo tries not to think about too much.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” says Jongin.

Oh, great. Now he’ll be alone. He doesn’t know where idiot and idioter (his nicknames for Moonkyu and Jaehwan) disappeared to. He doesn’t know where to leave his soiled clothes. He doesn’t even know how to fold them, and he certainly doesn’t know where the fresh uniform will be when he’s done. He doesn’t fancy walking around when he’s only just arrived.

But seeing as he doesn’t have many choices, he strips off his damp clothes, leaves them by the other piles in the cubbies by the entranc