For centuries it has been tradition to celebrate the winter solstice with mulled wine, laughter, and gifts for loved ones. It is much different from the quiet affair of the summer solstice and its tea ceremonies and fasting. 

Jongdae does not much like being forced to abstain from food, thus it was a relief unlike any other to spend the summer in Yixing’s kingdom and experience something different. Naturally they also celebrate the summer solstice, but their traditions differ from Jongdae’s: There was food and drinks aplenty without making it a feast, and it was an affair more intimate than what Jongdae is used to. He spent a few hours around noon with Yixing visiting an orphanage in the city, but after that they joined Yixing’s parents and his sister for a walk through the gardens and tea in the pavilion, ending the evening with a hearty meal with just the five of them.

Jongdae knows their winter solstice traditions vary as well, so he is determined to make Yixing’s first winter fest here a success. Everything must be perfect. Solstices are important to both of their cultures, and whilst Jongdae thoroughly enjoyed not having to fast this summer, he did have a few moments of homesickness. He suspects the winter solstice, while joyous, will also remind Yixing of Lián and everything he left behind to come here.

There is also the question of gifts, but Jongdae knows what he’s getting for Yixing after spending several days agonising over it. 

“For the winter fest,” Jongdae says, “I am going to propose to him.”

“Jongdae,” says Minseok, in that ever-patient tone that he seems to reserve specifically for him, “you two are already married.”

Jongdae scoffs and throws Minseok, his dearest friend and the son of a noble friend of his father’s, as well as a traitor to all friendships, a withering glare across the table and the vibrant papers scattered all around. “Our marriage was arranged and awfully tedious. It was all politics with not even a pinch of romance. This time will be different.”

“You have become a besotted fool,” Minseok says. 

“You are but envious of my happy marriage,” Jongdae trills. “Do you think Yixing will like it?”

“I do not imagine he will say no,” Minseok drawls. “You have been blessed with a man who puts up with your foolishness. Why did you not ask Han? He knows Yixing much better than I.”

Minseok is right, of course. Han, as Yixing’s childhood best friend who, together with Zitao, Han’s nephew, eager to get away from his chores to study foreign cultures, decided to tag along when Yixing moved to stay with Jongdae, knows Yixing better than probably anyone else. Still – 

Jongdae shrugs. “I saw you first.”

“I am honoured.”

“You are bitter. Say, how are things with that guy?” Minseok is already getting up, intent on escaping this conversation because he knows where Jongdae is going with it. “What was his name again, Minseok? Chan-something?” Minseok is walking determinedly towards the door like the coward he is. “Chanyeol!” Jongdae exclaims. “That is it, isn’t it? Chanyeol. I will put in a good word for you!”

“You will not do anything – Chanyeol.” Minseok halts at the door, one hand frozen on the handle as he stares up at Chanyeol, whose hand is left hanging awkwardly in the air. “Why are you here?”

Chanyeol arches a brow at Minseok. “Why am I here?” He looks towards Jongdae, squinting. “Why am I here, Jongdae?”

Chanyeol came to the kingdom with his mother around the same time as Yixing after his father’s passing. Jongdae, sad to see Chanyeol despondently wander the hallways and offer people tight smiles, decided to cheer him up by encouraging him to join Jongdae and his group of friends every other evening for some company and laughter. Once Chanyeol livened up, he quickly befriended everyone, and it wasn’t long before Jongdae caught the longing glances Minseok kept sending him. 

Jongdae grins and nods towards Minseok, who visibly seizes up. The oldest he may be, but discreet he is not. And he calls Jongdae a besotted fool. “Minseok said he had something he wanted to discuss with you. I figured I would save him the trouble and called for you.”

Minseok is making distinct I will murder you in your sleep and hide the body eyes at Jongdae, but straightens the moment Chanyeol turns his attention back to him.

“Ah,” says Minseok, ever eloquent. “Well. I wanted to hear your opinion about the –” the way he so clearly grasps for straws is adorable “– the decorations! I know the winter fest is your favourite. Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

Chanyeol beams. “Of course! There is much to prepare. Come, I will show you where they keep the wreaths.”

Minseok manages a glare and a mouthed You are dead to Jongdae before he hurries after Chanyeol, their voices fading as they leave earshot.

Jongdae chuckles to himself and returns to folding cranes. 

Minseok is about as dense as they come, and Chanyeol delights in seeing how long it’ll take before Minseok confesses or realises Chanyeol knows. As such, Jongdae considers it his bounden duty to ensure they always end up spending time together.

And with Minseok off to help Chanyeol with the decorations, something that is going to take more than one day, Jongdae pats himself on the back for a job well done.

❄️

Jongdae met Yixing in January, married him in February, and fell in love with him in June. That first time Jongdae laid eyes on Yixing was at the meeting that would seal their betrothal and a much-desired alliance between their kingdoms. Yixing offered Jongdae a shy smile, one that Jongdae mirrored, and then they were ushered inside and seated opposite each other. 

Their parents led the talks whilst Jongdae and Yixing listened and snuck glances at each other. Yixing was not his usual type, but he was easy on the eyes so Jongdae wasn’t about to complain. He was just happy his parents hadn’t found him a princess as they had first contemplated. 

They were given half an hour’s privacy to get to know each other. They chatted about this and that, and while half an hour wasn’t enough to gauge a person’s values and morals and habits, it was enough for Jongdae to decide that a marriage with Yixing would probably be pretty all right. They might not find love in one another, but they could be friends and rule together.

The wedding ceremony took place at the palace in Lián. It was a whirlwind of ancient traditions and rituals and polite small talk and good wishes, so busy that Jongdae and Yixing scarcely had time to talk without anyone interrupting. The wedding night was spent sleeping in separate beds in adjoined rooms, as were many nights to follow. 

And then something between them started to bloom. As they got closer, Jongdae fell in love with Yixing’s laughter and his dimples and his love for animals and his at times shy demeanour coupled with a wicked humour. 

Yixing had apparently, or so he liked to claim, been enamoured with Jongdae from their first meeting. Jongdae liked to tease that love at first sight wasn’t a thing outside of faery tales, to which Yixing replied, “But is our love after an arranged marriage not just like one?”

And to that, well, Jongdae had no answer other than to laugh and drag him in for a kiss.

❄️

“What do we do with these?” Yixing asks, holding up the paper crane he has just finished for Jongdae to judge. He came by Jongdae’s study shortly after Chanyeol dragged Minseok off to see what had him occupied, and Jongdae easily roped him into helping. 

“It’s perfect,” Jongdae says, grinning, and Yixing smiles and sets it down next to the bunch Jongdae has made. “We use them to decorate the giant tree that will soon take up most of the space in the great hall.”

Yixing frowns as he reaches for a new piece of paper. “Why do you have a tree? Our winter solstices never include trees.”

Jongdae shrugs. “I think it is just something one of our forefathers decided upon, for whichever reason, and it became a tradition. I don’t quite remember the story. The cranes, however, are believed to symbolise a long life. Each crane is a year, but you must never do more than ninety-nine. One-hundred is the number of our gods. Wishing for one-hundred years, or more for that matter, is a slight to them.”

“Cranes mean the same to us,” Yixing says, “but the gods have nothing to do with them.”

“What happens to the cranes in Lián?” 

“We burn them,” Yixing says, laughing as Jongdae’s eyes widen dramatically. “We write our regrets from the past year on the paper and then fold it into a crane. If we run out of writing space, we continue with a new paper, until everything we want to be written down has been. Regrets, while often a valuable lesson, should not be a burden that breaks us. By burning the cranes, we set them and ourselves free.”

Jongdae hums thoughtfully. “What does a long life have to do with burning regrets?”

“To be honest with you,” Yixing leans across the table like he is about to divulge Jongdae a secret, “I do not know. The cranes by themselves symbolise a long life, so you will often find them amongst gifts to friends and family, as small tokens, and used as ornaments all year round. Perhaps, by letting go of your regrets, you also open yourself up to a long life.” He chuckles. “Or maybe the two simply have nothing to do with each other. I don’t know.”

“Do you have any regrets this year?” Jongdae asks, adding another crane to the pile.

Yixing sighs the sigh of the world-weary. “I should have worked harder to make you fall in love with me faster. It would have spared me some anxiety.”

Jongdae grabs a piece of red paper, curls it into a ball, and throws it at Yixing’s head. “Real regrets, you oaf.”

“That is a real regret,” Yixing insists with a pout. When Jongdae makes for another piece of paper, Yixing throws up his hands in defeat. “All right, all right. I regret not having had enough time to explore your body with my tongue.”

Jongdae throws another paper ball at Yixing. “To be fair, I regret that, too.”

Yixing winks, but then he purses his lips in what appears to be actual consideration. “I suppose there will always be regrets, but most are so trivial that they aren’t worth mentioning. I regret not spending more time with my family before coming here, but I do not regret being here.”

“That’s a relief to know,” Jongdae says. Yixing swats at him. “Do you miss home?”

“Home is here now,” Yixing says, his lips curling into a sweet little smile before he turns thoughtful again. “I do miss it at times, of course, but I am here now. This is where I am supposed to be, and I like it here. We are not so different.”

“Although we hang our paper cranes on trees whereas you burn them,” Jongdae cannot help but say.

Yixing has started playing with the cranes; he makes one of them peck at Jongdae’s hand. “I imagine all the paper cranes you make end up burning at some point as well. Why not give them a proper farewell?”

Jongdae shrugs one shoulder and snatches Yixing’s crane out of his hand during an inattentive moment. “They most likely do. We never reuse them.” The crane joins its peers in the pile. “That’s another silly superstition.”

Yixing hums thoughtfully, cheek cradled in his palm as he fiddles with another crane; Jongdae stealing the previous one did nothing to deter him. “Do you have any regrets?”

Jongdae tilts his head. “I regret you did not make me fall in love with you sooner.” Yixing throws a handful of cranes at Jongdae, a few of which Jongdae manages to catch while laughing. “Trivial ones, yes, but none I truly regret.”

“Oaf,” says Yixing, but it’s belied by the amused affection in his gaze.

❄️

Amongst the non-official traditions for winter solstice is fun activities in the snow followed by hot chocolate before a hearth wrapped in comfy blankets, at least if it were up to Jongdae, which, come to think of it, he can make a reality once he becomes king. 

Declaring that the summer solstice will no longer involve fasting may be asking for too much, however, so they will have to make do with travelling to Yixing’s kingdom every summer to spend it there. Not that Jongdae minds; Lián is a beautiful country with lush nature and deep valleys, and delicious cuisine. And no fasting.

Fresh snow covers everything in a dusting of white that sparkles beneath the sun. It fell sometime during the night, the sky a clear blue in the morning. Jongdae enlists all of his friends to join him outside at noon for aforementioned fun activities. 

Yixing needs no convincing, so at the agreed upon time, everyone meets up in the palace gardens. It is freezing cold, but warm clothes and gloves and fur-lined cloaks keep the chill at bay, and soon enough the physical exertion of diving for refuge behind makeshift cover and tumbling in the snow will keep their bodies warm. 

“I have gathered you all here today,” Jongdae says, loud and clear, his breath puffing out tiny clouds, and ignores Minseok’s clattering teeth and eye roll, “to –”

“Everyone against the newly-weds,” says Kyungsoo flatly, to the cheers of everyone but the newly-weds. 

“No,” Jongdae says, Yixing trying to stifle his laughter next to him, to varying success. “Although we would absolutely crush all of you, that is not how this will go down. Yixing and I will be on separate teams.”

“You want to get a face full of snow, I see,” Yixing trills.

Jongdae offers him a sidelong glance and a brow. “You misunderstand. You will be the one with snow down your neck.”

Yixing smirks. “We will see, love.”

“All right,” Baekhyun says, shifting impatiently on his feet. He is ready for the impending battle, and has been ever since he and Jongdae, stuck together while their mothers had tea, had their first snowball fight years ago, which would turn into an annual tradition with steadily more friends joining. “How do we split up?”

“You, me, Junmyeon, Kyungsoo, and Chanyeol –” because while Chanyeol and Minseok on the same team would be cute, Jongdae is convinced Chanyeol will target Minseok when on opposite teams, and Minseok is too competitive to let him get away with it, which is bound to get fun “– are on one team. Yixing, Han, Minseok, Jongin, Sehun, and Zitao, well, you are about to lose. However, in your defeat you shall remember me as a generous adversary, because I evened the scales and gave you a sixth member since Zitao is too young to have been taught the art of war.”

“Perhaps in Mogryeon,” Zitao says, casually tossing a snowball into the air and catching it. “In Lián, men and women my age lead wars.”

Jongdae an eyebrow, but Yixing asks before he can retort, “When do we start?” He goes to answer something along the lines of Why, right about now but instead gets, well, a face full of snow.

“You’ll regret that,” he says, spitting snow out of his mouth. “You may write that down on a crane.”

“You have to catch me first,” Yixing laughs, and then he’s gone, and Jongdae is being barraged with snowballs from all sides – even some from his own team, he suspects, and those suspicions are confirmed when he catches sight of Chanyeol mid-throw. He doesn’t even have the decency to look repentant. 

“I am not our enemy!” Jongdae cries, making meaningful gestures towards the swiftly retreating backs of Yixing and Han. 

“Can’t fault a man for getting lost on the battlefield when everyone looks the same,” Baekhyun says, an innocuous ball of snow held in his palm. Jongdae squints at him, but Jongin and Sehun – both younger sons of lords who hang around the palace and generally cause mischief – are beginning to look menacing with their rapidly growing pile of snowballs. With the adoption of Zitao to their group, he should start calling them the terror triplets. Considering the threat of the trio's amassing ammunition, Jongdae opts not to make any remarks in regards to Baekhyun and his intelligence, or lack thereof.

“To arms!” Jongdae declares. Junmyeon, his favourite cousin, salutes and Kyungsoo, his least favourite, rolls his eyes, but they get to work. They relocate to a large patch of fresh snow, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo beginning to gather snow for defences while Jongdae, Junmyeon, and Baekhyun prepare snowballs. 

Soon enough the defences are built, snowballs piled up, and Chanyeol, as expected, has gotten bored and targets Minseok, who left the safety of his squad to gather more snow. With the help of Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, he sends a volley of snowballs towards him. A few of them hit their mark, but Minseok is deceptively agile and dodges the rest. He twists around to face them, hands on his hips. 

“Stop hiding like cowards,” he taunts. “Come and fight me!”

“You asked for it!” Chanyeol calls. In moments he’s gone, off to chase Minseok, and the four of them look at each other. 

“I cannot believe he’s this dense,” Baekhyun says.

“Chanyeol needs to spell it out for him,” Junmyeon says.

“I will lock them up in the dungeon if the winter fest passes without them kissing,” says Kyungsoo darkly. “This is ridiculous.”

“Chanyeol has already decked the halls with mistletoe in the hopes that they end up beneath one,” Jongdae says. “The chances are rather high.”

“But will Minseok man up and actually kiss him?” Baekhyun muses.

“We’ll get him drunk on mulled wine,” Jongdae says. “Liquid courage. That ought to do it.”

“I would not wager on it,” Kyungsoo says, dry as the sand in the overseas deserts. 

With Chanyeol out of commission, the four of them come up with a plan of attack. Jongdae wants to get to Yixing, so he needs the others to be distracted for just long enough to bury Yixing in snow. Chanyeol will most likely keep Minseok out of the equation, which works in their favour as Jongdae considers Minseok the biggest threat.

He looks towards the pair to see what they’re up to, and finds Chanyeol in the snow and Minseok atop him. Unable to help himself, Jongdae shouts, “No fraternising with the enemy!”

“You are one to talk!” Chanyeol yelps from beneath Minseok. “You’re married to – mph!” 

Jongdae cheers. Minseok has shoved a handful of snow in Chanyeol’s face. Serves him right for his near-insolence.

With those two preoccupied, Jongdae and his crew go on the offence. Yixing’s squad is ready, poised behind walls and pillars of snow. Getting to Yixing is easy enough, however, with Junmyeon and Kyungsoo engaging the terror triplets. The only obstacle left in Jongdae’s way is Han, but Baekhyun is there to manhandle him, and then there’s only Yixing. 

Granted, there is snow down Jongdae’s neck and in his face from the approach, but it is worth it. 

“Darling,” Jongdae says amidst the cries of his friends, “I never thought the day would come that we would stand on opposing sides.”

There is a gleam of suppressed laughter in Yixing’s eyes. “You missed a bright career in theatrics, sweetheart.”

“Today is a cold day,” Jongdae says, ignoring Yixing. “I will be merciful.”

“I won’t,” says Yixing, laughing, and sends a snowball barrelling towards Jongdae. Jongdae dodges it, throws one in response, and steadily eliminates the distance between them until he can tackle Yixing into the snow.

Yixing sputters under him, arms waving frantically to try and stop Jongdae from throwing snow in his face. His laughter makes it easier to get snow in his mouth, which Jongdae is not too much of a gentleman to take advantage of.

Eventually Han and Minseok come to Yixing’s rescue, and Jongdae finds himself briefly, and quite literally, buried in snow until he’s saved by Chanyeol. 

Yixing’s team wins after Kyungsoo is taken captive – not because Jongdae is a lenient general and accepts the terms for Kyungsoo’s release (resignation), but because Kyungsoo is a dirty traitor and seven against four is unfair.

❄️

Gathered in Jongdae and Yixing’s drawing room, everyone armed with hot chocolate straight from the kitchens and topped with whipped cream, surrounded by heaps of pillows and blankets, Jongdae draws a contented sigh and makes himself comfortable against Yixing. Yixing has one arm wrapped around his shoulder, his fingers tapping an unrecognisable melody against Jongdae’s bone. 

“I cannot believe you betrayed us, Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun says. 

“Jongdae would have left me to rot,” Kyungsoo says easily, blowing air on his hot chocolate to cool it. 

“I would not,” Jongdae says.

“No, you definitely would,” Yixing says. 

Jongdae turns a betrayed look on him.“Whose side are you on?” Yixing arches an eyebrow. “The snowball fight is over. You’re supposed to be on my side now.”

“Well,” Yixing drawls, “not when your side isn’t the winning side.”

“I am breaking up with you.”

“We are married.”

“I will implore the church to grant me a divorce.”

“You are stuck with me,” Yixing sing-songs, tapping the tip of Jongdae’s nose. Jongdae scrunches up his face.

“You two are disgusting,” Kyungsoo says.

“You are just envious,” Jongdae retorts.

“That cannot be your answer to everyone,” Minseok says.

Jongdae turns to look at him with a grin. “Oh? Are you suggesting I have said the same to –” 

“You two are disgusting,” Minseok intones.

“Envious,” Jongdae leers.

Chanyeol, who is conveniently and quite possibly entirely deliberately sat next to Minseok, their thighs almost brushing each other, says, “Kyungsoo would have betrayed Jongdae regardless.”

Kyungsoo nods, eyes half-lidded as he nurses his hot chocolate.

Jongdae would have sat upright at that if Yixing’s arm hadn’t kept him in place. “A-ha! See!”

“That does not change anything,” Junmyeon says.

“It changes everything,” Jongdae insists.

“Does not,” Sehun says.

While the fools bicker, Jongdae sips his hot chocolate and watches them with a fond smile. Yixing hums quietly in tune with the melody he is creating with his fingers, pausing occasionally to wipe away the whipped cream from Jongdae’s lips. 

This is nice, Jongdae thinks, taking another sip. Winter solstice has always been wonderful, but this year will be the best yet. He knows it.

The next time Yixing’s hand comes to wipe away the cream, Jongdae playfully catches his finger between his teeth and refuses to let go.

Yixing laughs.

❄️

Jongdae finds Han the next day to hear his thoughts about the proposal. 

“I am sure he will love it,” Han says, considering. “He has always been fond of grand romantic gestures, although he keeps insisting small monetary gifts are more than enough.”

Jongdae hums. “I will stick with that, then. What will you give him?”

“He likes learning new things, so I’m considering a book on Mogryeon history for him. He can recite his ancestors centuries down the line without any trouble, although that knowledge has also been drilled into him by his teachers.” Han his head thoughtfully. “He might even remember the years of their births and deaths. He likes architecture and music as well.”

“Indeed.” Jongdae chuckles. “He has played for me on several instruments from your kingdom by now, and he has been learning to play one of our traditional fiddles the last couple of months. He’s a natural.”

“He mentioned that one. He says it has a calming sound.”

“That is because he is weird,” Jongdae says. “It always grated on my ears.”

“Even when Yixing plays it?” Han teases.

Jongdae sticks his tongue out at him, and in lieu of an answer says, “You are not getting a gift from me now.”

Han’s eyes widen dramatically. “Are we getting each other gifts?”

“I’m sending you back to Lián on the next ship,” Jongdae says.

“You wouldn’t,” Han says, and he is right. Yixing may have found new friends here, but losing Han would be a significant loss, and Jongdae doesn’t like seeing him sad – especially if Yixing is sad because of something he did. 

“You are fortunate I am such a forgiving person,” Jongdae says. 

Han laughs and clasps his shoulder. “Forgiving, certainly. Now, when are we supposed to be in the great hall?”

❄️

The royal family traditionally always decorates the tree in the great hall. In more recent years, Jongdae’s parents have mostly left that responsibility to him and his friends after May one of my friends join? turned to May I bring all my friends? This year, Jongdae looks forward to the chaos of eleven people trying to decorate a tree five times taller than Chanyeol.

When he arrives at the great hall with Han, they find Baekhyun sitting on Chanyeol’s shoulders to hang baubles on the branches. Junmyeon and Kyungsoo are watching from a distance, wearing expressions of concern, and the terror triplets are warming their hands in front of the fireplace, their voices a low murmur. Yixing and Minseok must be on the way.

“Welcome,” says Junmyeon, looking away from the swaying duo only long enough to offer them a warm smile. 

“A-ha!” Baekhyun lights up in a grin as the last bauble finds its place on the tree. He pats Chanyeol’s arm to signal he wants down, and Chanyeol abides. “Perfect. Now we just need, well, everything else.”

“You only hung up eight,” says Kyungsoo. “Excellent. A hundred more to go.”

“Which means Baekhyun is halfway with his part,” Jongdae says, clasping his hands. “Get to work, Kyungsoo!”

Kyungsoo, pointedly, goes to find a crane from the pile Jongdae carried inside earlier, and hangs it on one of the lowest branches. Han leaves Jongdae’s side to join Junmyeon, and together they find the garlands and get started on them. Jongin, Sehun, and Zitao greet Jongdae with cheer and proceed to go and bother Kyungsoo. 

Yixing and Minseok arrive together right as Jongdae is reaching for a crane. He looks towards them and beams. “Yixing!”

“And Minseok,” says Minseok, but does not wait around for Jongdae to make any remarks before he passes him and joins Junmyeon and Han. As expected. Perhaps they can tie Chanyeol and Minseok together with the garlands…

“Jongdae,” Yixing greets, his smile widening when Jongdae steals a kiss. “You have already started, I see.”

“I have done nothing yet,” Jongdae says.

“Except boss us around,” mutters Kyungsoo.

“Attention and eyes on the cranes, not me,” Jongdae says. He grins. “Except some bossing around, perhaps,” he says, this time to Yixing.

Yixing shakes his head fondly. “Well, then. What would you have me do?”

“We will help with the cranes,” Jongdae says. “Ninety-nine cranes take some time, and I am certain Kyungsoo would appreciate the help.”

“Quite,” says Kyungsoo. Jongdae laughs.

Yixing cheerfully hangs a crane here and there, humming under his breath when he gets lost in the task. They have ladders and each other to help with the upper parts of the tree, and a couple of servants help out with the truly challenging parts. The golden candlesticks are the last to be added, the candles carefully placed in the holder after testing the stability. 

They finish at supper time, and soon Yixing and Jongdae are the last two people remaining in the great hall. 

“What do you think?” Jongdae asks. Yixing is looking the tree up and down as he slowly circles it. 

“It is beautiful,” Yixing says, coming to a stop by Jongdae’s side. “I can only imagine how marvellous it will be tomorrow night with all the candles lit.”

“It will be glorious,” says Jongdae. 

“I look forward to it,” Yixing says, smiling. 

He has been curiously eyeing the two cranes Jongdae asked to be left on the table ever since; Jongdae thinks it’s a marvel Yixing hasn’t succumbed to his desire to know everything yet. Still, an inquisitive mind cannot be kept in the dark forever, so it is not surprising when he asks, “Did we make too many?”

Jongdae grins. “No.” He waves Yixing with him as he starts towards the cranes. “I thought we could pay homage to your traditions. We each choose a crane and write our regrets on it. Then we hang them on the tree to be admired by all, and after the festivities, we take them down and burn them.”

Yixing is looking at him like one might look at… Jongdae doesn’t know, actually. Were he a poet, he could write sonnets upon sonnets to try and justly describe that look, but most likely he would rather dedicate entire songs to the curl of Yixing’s mouth whenever he smiles or odes to the way his back arches at the cusp of pleasure when Jongdae –

Jongdae would not be a very good poet. Or perhaps he would be a wonderful poet. He will probably never know in this lifetime. 

Regardless, Yixing is looking at him softly, and Jongdae feels like his insides have melted like the snow on a warm day. He cannot say he dislikes it. 

“Thank you,” Yixing says. One of the cranes is golden, the other white; Yixing takes the white one. “Did you bring any writing utensils?”

Jongdae pauses. He snaps his fingers. “There goes everything. I will find something. Spend the time while I’m gone thinking of regrets. Real ones!”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Yixing sings, waving him away when he opens his mouth to retort. “Go, go, or my regret will be that you did not bring a quill.”

“Mean!” Jongdae calls as he leaves the room.

Yixing’s laughter rings pleasantly in his ears all the way. 

❄️

Jongdae wasn’t nervous the first time he met Yixing, nor was he nervous the day of their wedding, so, logically, nor should he have any reason to be nervous now. And yet – 

“Why are you pacing a hole in the floor?” Han asks. 

“Because,” Minseok, ever helpful, says, “he is, and I cannot stress this enough, an idiot.”

“Ah,” Jongdae says, hanging onto the prospect that is teasing Minseok like it’s a lifeline, which it very much feels like at the moment, “you are one to talk, aren’t you? Do not think I didn’t –” 

“We do not talk about that,” Minseok intones. 

“Oh,” says Han, looking between Jongdae and Minseok knowingly. “Is it Chanyeol we are not talking about?”

Minseok sputters, which is a wonderful thing. Jongdae is glad he did not send Han with the first ship back to Lián.

He nods sagely. “Indeed.”

“I see,” Han says. “I suppose we also do not talk about the longing gazes Minseok sent his way yesterday.”

“Indeed,” Minseok says.

Jongdae shakes his head sadly. “And he calls me an idiot. Can you believe it? The halls are decked with mistletoe, and yet our hero here has managed to entirely avoid –” and Jongdae has tried, oh, he has tried, and Chanyeol has tried “– suddenly finding himself standing beneath one with Chanyeol. It is a tragedy that will in time be written into a play by a famous poet and acted out by brilliant actors. Everyone will shed a tear at the woes of our star-crossed protagonist who never dared take the chance when it offered itself. Several times, might I add.”

Minseok plops into a chair by the table, his head making a painful-sounding thunk against the wood as he drops it. “We were talking about you. How do we always end up talking about me?”

“Because you are an idiot,” Han helpfully supplies. Minseok looks up long enough to glare at him. Another thunk, significantly softer this time, and a pitiful whine. “There, there.” Han pats Minseok’s shoulder. “Drag him under a mistletoe and live happily ever after.”

Minseok mumbles something intelligible into the table. He lifts his head to, Jongdae assumes, repeat, “Happily ever afters are for faery tales.”

“So turn your story into one,” Han says, nudging the quill on Jongdae’s table towards Minseok. “It is your life. You get to write what happens.”

Minseok looks thoughtfully at the quill. “Perhaps. After we sort out Jongdae’s irrational nerves.”

“I was sorting them out just fine, mocking you,” Jongdae says. “Now you reminded me of them, so now I am back to feeling them. Thank you ever so much.”

“There is no world in which Yixing is going to say no,” Minseok says, wholly ignoring Jongdae, which is rude, especially considering Jongdae is the topic at hand, not to mention the future king. “Are you worried that your proposal will make him realise he loves an idiot who somehow forgot you have been married for nearly a year?”

“I think,” Han cuts in before Jongdae can reply, “Yixing will love the reason behind your proposal. The way you propose is subsidiary.” 

Jongdae purses his lips. “You said he likes grand gestures.”

“Romantic grand gestures,” Han says. “You do not need an orchestra, a sky full of stars, or a meadow of wildflowers.”

“Granted, a meadow of wildflowers is hard to come by during winter,” Minseok says. “Although that makes me curious. How will you do it without wildflowers to back you up?”

“Using the spine you seem to have misplaced,” Jongdae says. Minseok snorts. Getting serious, Jongdae motions them closer and starts to explain, “I was thinking…”

❄️

“Oh, it is absolutely stunning,” Yixing exclaims as the doors open to admit them into the great hall. Jongdae halts at his side to admire the tree and all the lit candles, mostly because their arms are linked and thus he is forced to go where Yixing goes, but also because the tree is absolutely stunning. Banquet guests are as much in awe of the tree as Yixing is – Jongdae even catches sight of Kyungsoo with Baekhyun looking rather pleased as he gazes upon the tree, and Junmyeon nearby smiling gently as he looks in spite of the terror triplets tugging at him to get a move on. 

There is music and laughter, friends and acquaintances and strangers, and soon there will be delicious food as well. Tonight cannot get any better.

Well, it will get better with Jongdae’s gift to Yixing, but right now everything is perfect. Yixing is dressed in traditional clothes from his home country – as is Han, wherever he is – and he looks dashing. The light and dark grey robes of silk fall gracefully down his figure with golden stitches in the outer robe creating flowery patterns. Tied around his midriff is a white sash lined also with gold. 

Perhaps Jongdae should dedicate the rest of his life to becoming a poet who can justly put into sonnets and odes and ballads the perfection of Yixing.

Jongdae is truly a love-smitten fool. Who would have thought, back in January as he lay eyes on Yixing for the first time, that it would turn out like this? 

Now married, they are expected to make their rounds and make small talk with everyone. For some of the guests, it is their first time seeing Yixing, and they are eager to make their acquaintance. It was worse in the first few months following their wedding; Yixing was foreign and thus the name on everyone’s lips. It was important that everyone who wished for it got a chance to talk with Yixing, highborn and lowborn alike. As the new crown prince, the people needed a good impression of him.

Jongdae doesn’t think anyone could get a bad impression of Yixing, but he admits that his opinion is, at best, just a tad partial. He has yet to be proven wrong, however: Everyone loves Yixing. Yixing will drop everything in his hands to help a servant or to chat with some noble. His memory is truly spectacular, his knack of remembering insignificantly significant details about strangers taking Jongdae aback every so often; his conversation partners are always immensely pleased when he makes inquiries into something they told him offhandedly ages ago. 

Jongdae always thought of himself as a social butterfly, but he hardly holds a candle to how Yixing positively blooms like a spring flower when surrounded by people at social functions. Curiously, he tends to be a bit on the shyer side in private with friends.

They make their rounds, mingling with the banquet guests. Yixing masterfully navigates the crowds, never staying too long with someone but also never in a hurry. Jongdae is content to follow his lead, engaging in small talk alongside him. They greet Jongdae’s parents, conversing briefly, and seek out their friends once everyone seems to have had their fill of the crown princes for the moment.

They find Minseok and Chanyeol standing near the fireplace, appearing deeply engaged in their conversation – and each other. Seeing them, Jongdae has half a mind to march over and drag them just slightly to the left until they are standing directly beneath a mistletoe, but alas, he must resist the temptation. Destiny will take its course with or without his interference.

Steering clear of the duo, they instead head towards Junmyeon and Han – whose robes are red nuances with a dash of gold and black – also talking amongst themselves but not so caught up in each other that they seemingly forget everyone else around them. Hence, when they notice Jongdae and Yixing approaching, they smile and wave them over with their half-empty goblets.

Junmyeon cannot hold his liquor, which Han will eventually learn if he so chooses to stay by Junmyeon’s side throughout the evening. Han will then be saddled with a drunk Junmyeon, and Jongdae will have no regrets for not warning him. None whatsoever.

“You finally managed to catch a break, I see,” Han says, eyeing Yixing up and down before nodding to himself, pleased for whatever reason. “Have you sampled the drinks yet?”

“No,” says Jongdae morosely. 

Yixing clasps his hand gently. “I will fetch us some,” he offers.

The moment he has been swallowed by the crowd, Han turns shrewd eyes to Jongdae. “Are you still feeling nervous?”

“Nervous about what?” Junmyeon asks, looking curiously between them.

“Nothing,” Jongdae says to Junmyeon. To Han, he says, “I mostly forgot until you reminded me. Why don’t you join Minseok in being the worst sidekicks one could have?”

“I would rather not,” Han drawls, glancing towards the aforementioned one half of the kingdom’s worst sidekicks and his love interest. Minseok is smiling like the besotted fool that he is, and Chanyeol is as curled towards someone as one can be without actually touching them. “I would feel more like an intruder there than if I burst through the church doors in the midst of a sermon and everyone stopped to stare and whisper and point fingers.”

“I second that,” Junmyeon says, nodding sagely. 

“Quite,” says Jongdae dryly. “Regardless, I think my nerves have mostly settled, no thanks to you.”

“You are welcome,” Han says, and smiles, and Jongdae, well, smiles back because Han is partially to thank for settling those nerves. 

Yixing returns with Baekhyun in tow, goblets in hand, just as Jongdae’s father announces that everyone may find their seats, for supper is ready to be served. He offers Jongdae one of them and lets himself be led towards the table where Jongdae’s parents are waiting after parting ways with Han, Junmyeon, and Baekhyun.

“Supper,” Jongdae says, sighing. “At last. I am starving.” 

Yixing chuckles. “You had every opportunity to eat a hearty lunch.”

“And find myself too stuffed to enjoy tonight’s feast? I think not.” 

❄️

The festivities, as they are wont to do, last long into the night. By the time only a few stragglers are left, the moon is brightly shining high in the sky and it is hours past their usual bedtime. Jongdae, jittery with nerves despite himself, feels awake enough to last the entire night and the next day with.

Not that he intends to test that theory.

Han, as it turns out, can hold his liquor about as well as Junmyeon. It wasn't all that long ago that Kyungsoo, with an air of resignation, opted to try and coax the giggling pair up from their sprawl on the floor. The terror triplets had appeared at his elbows to assist him in his quest, although it seemed Jongin had been the only one being actually helpful whereas Sehun and Zitao had spent more time teasing Junmyeon and Han. Eventually, they had managed to manhandle the pair out into the hall and towards their respective bed chambers to sleep it off.

Minseok and Chanyeol had mysteriously disappeared from the great hall a couple of hours ago. Curious, that.

“Well,” Jongdae says, eyeing the tree. “Shall we get our cranes and retire?”

“Yes,” Yixing says, bending in the knees to look for their cranes. “We have yet to exchange gifts, as well.”

“Indeed,” Jongdae says. He has given a gift to everyone of his loved ones except Yixing. “I wanted to wait until we were alone.”

“As did I,” Yixing says, twisting his upper body slightly to offer him a smile and his crane. 

Jongdae’s parents already retired for the night, so no one bats an eyelash when they leave. The halls are quiet, but as they approach their quarters a low murmur of voices soon turns recognisable. 

Minseok and Chanyeol are sitting at a windowsill, smiling softly at each other and still talking. 

As Jongdae and Yixing pass them, Yixing says lightly, “Do not forget about the mistletoe above you.”

Minseok’s eyes dart between them and the mistletoe, and then to Chanyeol, who is grinning like a lunatic. 

They leave them to do with that information what they please. Jongdae will be damned if he finds Minseok tomorrow and hears they didn’t so much as kiss each other on the cheeks.

In their quarters, Jongdae dithers in front of the fireplace. The warmth from the fire is comforting, and Yixing humming behind him might lull him to sleep yet.

“Do we just throw them into the fire?” Jongdae hesitantly asks, looking inquisitively over his shoulder at Yixing. Yixing laughs, shaking his head.

“No.” He comes to crouch in front of the fireplace and holds out a stick until it catches fire. “Come,” he says, straightening and turning a soft smile at Jongdae, “we will light them up on the balcony. I do not think the servants, or your parents, will like us very much if we burn down the palace, accident or not.”

Jongdae snorts, but follows him outside all the same. He almost regrets it the moment he steps onto the balcony, because it is absolutely freezing. 

“Now, before we lose our fingers to frostbite,” says Jongdae, teeth already starting to clatter. Yixing chuckles, but holds out his hand for Jongdae’s crane. 

“What is your regret?” he asks as he sticks it into the fire and watches the flame at the paper.

Jongdae draws a solidifying breath. “I regret,” he says, “that I never got to propose to you.” 

When Yixing turns to look at him, Jongdae has procured the ring from his inner pocket and holds it out to him.

“So,” he tacks on, “I have decided to rectify that. I love you, Yixing, with all my heart. I could never want for a better companion for the rest of my life. In less than a year you have become my best friend, my most trusted confidanté, and the love of my heart. Will you do me the honour of becoming my husband?”

Yixing has gone from looking speechless to teary to downright sappy. He nearly forgets the stick of fire in his hand as he reaches for Jongdae’s hands, but he remembers at the last moment and instead cradles just the one with the ring. 

“Always,” he says, his smile slightly wobbly and his eyes glistening. “Always, Jongdae.”

Jongdae smiles and brings Yixing’s hand to his lips. “Thank you.”

Yixing laughs softly. “Oh, now I just – My gift to you feels inadequate now.”

“Nonsense,” Jongdae says, waving him off. “Let us hear your regret so we can get back inside, and then I will have my gift.”

Yixing stills. He eyes his own crane, squinting, and starts to say, “Well, how about –” but Jongdae has already reached past him to snatch the crane out of his hand. Yixing yelps and tries to stop him, already giggling, but Jongdae turns his back to him and reads up from the paper.

“‘I regret wasting entire months when I could have every inch of –’ honestly, Yixing, we agreed on real regrets!”

Yixing manages to say between breathless giggles, “That is a real regret! And I intend to make up for it in the many years to come, starting tonight!”

“You better,” Jongdae sniffs, dangling the crane in front of Yixing. Yixing takes it, still giggling, and holds it to the fire. “If your gift to me is your body, I suppose I have no complaints.”

Yixing snorts, tossing the crane up into the air when the flames get dangerously close to his fingers. He throws the stick to the ground and steps on it until he is sure the flames are gone, and then he says, “My gift is not myself. My gift waits inside.”

“Oh, please,” Jongdae says, hurrying inside. “Warmth. I am cold all over.” He leers at Yixing. “You better make up for that, as well.”

“Soon enough,” Yixing promises, winking, and waves Jongdae over to their bed. “Sit. I will be right with you.”

“Wait,” Jongdae says, catching Yixing’s hand before he can leave. He still has the ring in his palm, so he slides it onto Yixing’s finger and smiles. “There. All done.”

Yixing leans down to kiss him, just a brief one, before he pulls back and leaves. He is back within moments, this time carrying a lute. He settles on the bed next to Jongdae, expression focused on the instrument as he starts to play a gentle tune. Before long, he also begins to sing, his voice clear and sweet.

The lyrics tell the story of a budding love between two strangers that turns into something solid and earnest, something true; it is about Jongdae and Yixing, and Jongdae soon recognises parts of the melody as the one Yixing has been humming and tapping into surfaces and Jongdae’s skin.

“Ah,” he whispers, but says nothing else.

Yixing finishes the song on a gentle note, and then he looks abashedly up at Jongdae through his eyelashes. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it,” Jongdae says earnestly, leaning in to plant a kiss on Yixing’s lips. “You have been humming it often these days.”

Yixing lowers his head, flustered, and laughs. “Oh, I wanted to keep it a secret for you.”

“I had no idea,” Jongdae says, cradling his face between his palms and coaxing his gaze upwards again. “I promise you. I would have never guessed.” He huffs, laughing. “I have a song written for me now. How many can boast of that?”

“A few,” Yixing says, but he is smiling, his hands on Jongdae’s after putting the lute away. “Thank you, Jongdae.”

“I love you,” Jongdae says, catching Yixing’s mouth again, and then peppering kisses across his cheek and his nose and his forehead, repeating himself after each one.

Yixing whispers I love you, too against his lips, and then his neck, and then he sighs, and then –

That night, Jongdae learns that those traditional clothes come off very easily.

❄️