He's been called to throne room under the premise of an announcement from his uncle but Donghae has an inkling the announcement is just another of his uncle’s schemes. He has an intrinsic feeling he’s not going to like what he hears. Donghae would very much rather not go but he knows not to delay the inevitable, not when his uncle will find some way to make the conditions even worse and so with footsteps heavy and a grimace, he waits as the doors are pulled open by the guards stationed nearby and walks towards the throne, face kept carefully blank and head held high.

"Donghae," the man greets with a smile no realer than Donghae is a woman, "how are you doing, my boy?"

"What did you call me here for," Donghae pauses before grudgingly muttering, "your highness?"

"Always so straight to the point," his uncle pouts unattractively, "very well, as you know, our resources have been dwindling due to recent events."

All of which had been orchestrated by you, Donghae seethes. All of this is because of you. 

"What does this have to do with me, sir?" he says instead.

"Well, my dear nephew, as you know, the small little nation of Fie X'hin is quite remote but its position in the mountains blesses their people with bountiful minerals and materials."

Donghae narrows his eyes. He doesn’t like where this is going.

"So," his uncle continues, "I requested their aid."

Silence.

"And the price?" Donghae eventually asks. A real smile graces his uncle's lips then and a shiver runs down his spine at the sight, thoroughly disturbed by the vileness of it. Though he steels himself, Donghae still finds himself reeling by the words spoken next,

"Your marriage to the grand duke’s son."

The first thought that comes to mind is that his uncle isn't marrying him off to the crown prince of Fie X'hin - no, he's not even worth that it seems. The next one is mostly just a string of expletives his tutors would have scolded him for even thinking. Donghae squares his jaw, refusing to give in to the urge to grind his teeth and allowing his uncle the satisfaction of a reaction from him.

"Any objections?" The man says, seated smugly on the throne that once belonged to Donghae's brother - the brother his uncle had assassinated just a few days ago. With Donghae just shy of 18, his uncle was appointed as crown regent though not without the obvious hesitance of the council. It's a small comfort to know that no one approves of his uncle's actions - small because no matter their opinions no one can go against the laws dated older than any of them have lived. Kei'sei may be one of the more developed countries among the Four Great Nations but they were still very much rooted firmly in ancient beliefs - the age restriction being one of them.

Donghae can begrudgingly admit that his uncle was clever to time the assassination the way he did - with the country still adjusting to a new monarch and the second prince still months away from being allowed on the throne should the need arise. And now, he's ridding himself of the one last person who can challenge him for the crown by marrying Donghae off, essentially stripping him of his title as second high prince. With his uncle as regent, he has all authority to do as he pleases and Donghae has no choice but to go along with the proposition even if it means he's to become nothing more than a pleasure slave.

"No, I have no such objections." It takes a lot of effort not to spit the words onto the man's face. Donghae mentally pats himself on the back for managing to keep an even tone.

His uncle grins then and it's completely and utterly disgusting to look at. The few audience gathered to watch Donghae's humiliation murmur amongst themselves. From what he can hear, they're all against his uncle's decision. He knows, however, no one will speak up in fear of the cruelty his uncle generously doles out and Donghae doesn't blame them.

"Alright then! Your has already been assembled and your dowry has been sent a day ahead. All essentials have been packed. Hurry along. You don't want to keep your husband-to-be waiting yes? I hear the man is quite strict with schedules."

The man chortles, a long ugly sound, and Donghae clenches his fists at his sides, indignant at the audacity of his uncle - how much more humiliation does the man want him to suffer before he's satisfied? He spins on his heel and leaves the throne room in quick strides - not running because he may have just been tossed away and sold to some rich erted jerk but he still has dignity and he intends to keep it. He immediately heads for the winding staircase, making a beeline for the familiar massive doors with the scratches and a dent right by its left corner - made by a rambunctious five year old Donghae and his beloved older brother Donghwa while shirking off from their lessons. He doesn’t dwell on the memory.

Once in the safety of his bedroom, Donghae leans heavily against the wooden doors, bringing a hand up to clutch tightly at the silver pendant hanging around his neck - a birthday present from his late brother.

He had stood proudly even as he watched his father's coffin lowered into an excavated trench and buried under several feet of dirt when he'd been fifteen. He had smiled through his brother's coronation even if his mother had fallen victim to her declining health just the night before when he'd been sixteen. Now at seventeen, he had kept his head held high even when the news of his brother's assassination reached him just a few days ago. In all these instances not once had he cried - how could he? He was the second high prince of Kei'sei; he cannot afford to waste time by grieving when he had duties to perform. This was a lesson he was reminded of constantly as a child and enforced onto him as soon as he was old enough to start learning about the ins and outs of the country, old enough to start being groomed to be his brother and future king's right hand man.

But here, alone in his room, Donghae is only a seventeen year old boy with a worn down heart aching in longing for his family. His breath hitches and next thing he knows, he's sobbing uncontrollably, tears flowing freely as his knees give and he slides into an ungraceful heap onto the cold marble floor. For the first time in years, Donghae allows himself to cry. Only now, there was no one to comfort him.

When he starts to calm down, Donghae heaves himself off the floor and heads to his bathroom to splash some water onto his face in hopes of ridding any trace of his tears. He looks up and sees himself in the mirror, sees the exhaustion lining his features making him look older by at