Here goes...

Please do clarify if the need arises.

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The following afternoon… In the fort, where security is ‘heightened’.

“He left?!” “What the heck is he up to anyways?” A man exclaims while he dons on an elaborate armour, newly cast for him since he had lost his old one, staring at the messenger who brought him the information he wanted.

“Yes your majesty. Sir Yunho says his parents are ailing and needs him back at home.” The man, Yunho’s trusty assistant answered, as if speaking according to his given script. The king does not know his friend has something he wants to hide from him, again.

“I was still hoping he did have a drink with me…” Yoochun mumbled in response, feeling upset that his goodwill isn’t appreciative.

“Sir Yunho says he will make arrangements for you to head back to the capital as soon as he is settled, your majesty.” The man tried recalling Yunho’s instructions and literally repeated what Yunho said to him earlier, accordingly. He is not to mess up. Only he knows that Yunho has Jaejoong and is planning to spend some quality time with the healer. This man was the one who ferried Junsu back to the king’s side as well.

“I don’t feel secure enough to head back to the capital with the new escorts. We will discuss this, another day.” Yoochun got up from his seat and made his way back to his room, Junsu’s room.

“Your majesty! There is one more thing!” The man got up from the ground as well and went after the departing king. “Sir Yunho and General Choi had the troops under them dispatched last evening. They will be arriving later today.” Yoochun raised an eyebrow.

“Your majesty. Your personal troops have also been activated… with permission from Sir Yunho. The three troops will be on charge of escorting the royal family as well as your majesty back home.” The man continued, trying to sound confident, like how Yunho had taught him.

“That… that’s fine. We will leave whenever they are ready then.” The king is approving of his advisor’s arrangements. The king has everything done for him. His life is a breeze because of his friend, and so he truly believes. However, to Yunho, he is actually just making up for the chaos he had created, but Yoochun does not need to know that.

Going back to his room, the king is met with a still snoozing Junsu as the baby wails non-stop, failing to wake his overstrained mother. Rushing over to the baby’s side immediately, the man cuddled the infant, hushing him as he tries to stick a finger into the tiny gaping mouth. “Shhhhhhhh!!! Your umma had a rough night because of appa so PLEASE keep quiet! Allow your umma to sleep a while more okay!?”

Changmin only wailed louder in response, more accusingly, as his big eyes opens up as well. “SHHHHHHHH!!!” “Appa will give you anything you want!!! Just let it slide this once!! You can stick to umma all you want after he wakes up, NATURALLY!!” The man started to become all flustered and jumpy, escaping the room with the baby, eyes on Junsu as the boy remains still.

Stumbling over the stool nearby, since he wasn’t paying attention to the way that he is going, Yoochun almost took a nose dive had he not regained his balance skillfully. Nevertheless, the stool still toppled, and with the most unfavorable domino effect, three other heavy marble stools each took a turn to land noisily. Yoochun’s toes and feet are most likely made of steel, since he does not yell out in pain or feel any pain for that matter, but the sounds made by the falling objects are still deafening.

“Huhhh!!” Junsu’s eyelids flew open as he gasps loudly. Clambering out from beneath the tangled sheets around his body, he scrambled off the mattress Yoochun made love to him on, just to fall flat on his face after slipping on the silky sheets. Blubbering about the pain, the boy’s bony shoulders shuddered as he struggles to release his hands from the bundle he trapped himself in.

Yoochun could feel his heart palpitate uncontrollably as he races over to the boy. “JUNSU YAH!!” The man cries out as he deposits the baby on the mattress next to them and squats down to shovel Junsu up into a cradle, transporting the boy back to the real bed at teleportation speed.

“Pain… uhhhh!!! Pain!!” The boy moaned as he rolls on the bed, curling up into a ball, arching his toes in agony.

“Where!? Where?!” The king is all over the boy, examining him all over while the boy tries to desperately to cover his exposed skin, amidst the suffering. Junsu is still self conscious despite everything else, since they are under broad daylight, and Junsu can see Yoochun’s face clearly after the grogginess have faded. He is sure Yoochun can see him too, and his is feeling bashful.

“Umm… hmmhh!!” The boy waved a thin finger at the place that hurts the most, his back and rear end. With tears continually streaming down his ruddy cheeks as he whimpers pitifully, hiccupping as he wipes his face with both palms cutely, Yoochun almost died from the overdose of Junsu’s cuteness.

Ordering the maids to fetch a wet cloth, the king wiped his lover down, taking care not to be too rough. The boy just kept his face in the spongy surface of the linens as the king does that, shaking the fatigue away.

“Minnie!” The boy finally said something understandable, twisting his neck sideways to look at the lone baby crying at the other end of the room. Spotting the pinkish patch on Junsu’s forehead where the boy hit the ground earlier, the king leaned in to plant a kiss there before proceeding to carry the baby over to his mother. Baby Changmin got what he wanted. What he wants, he gets.

“Curtains.” Junsu requested shyly as he stays hidden under the thick blanket, gathering the baby into his arms.

“You sure you want to do this?” Yoochun asked, still worried, refusing to budge. Junsu nodded as he improvises a way whereby he can make himself hurt less and take care of the baby at the same time. “I can do it like this.” Lying on his side, with the baby pressed up against him Junsu smiled.

Yoochun wanted to pounce on him again, but held back. Then, quickly drawing the partitions, the man dashes out of the room, running himself weary in order to deplete some of the ‘ual’ energy leftover from the past night, and so the king rationalizes.

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Back in the capital... 

The door to a small quarter, cluttered with herbs and half opened cabinets left over by the previous tenant, is thrown open as a tall figure marches in with a bundle of clothe and flesh slung over his right shoulder. The bundle is human, bounded by the wrists and ankles, gagged and powerless against his bounds.

Protesting with a head for the hundredth time, the captive’s forehead and hairline are already bruising badly, self inflicted after his assault on the captors’ muscle packed scapula bone. His attempts to make the other hurt had little effects, and the backlash is more serious instead, as the bruise swells up even more visibly.

The captor is heartbroken, but he had sworn to himself before that he will not to show that he cares anymore. Choosing to ignore the helpless but still struggling person, the man continued on his way til they arrive in the room allocated to the prisoner, where he used to be held as well.

Dumping the person onto the bed roughly, the tall muscular chap remained silent as he gets to work, starting up the heater to the chilly hut as he adds more wood to the flames. “MMMMHHHHMMMM!! MMMM!! HHMMM!!!” The prisoner screamed into the cloth gag again, trying to attract the man’s attention, his muffled cries are ignored.

Provoked, the bounded person crawled on his belly, wriggling along the smooth sheets as he throws himself off the bed with a loud thud.

“YOU!!” The captive finally succeeds with the drastic act of defiance, as the silent man hollered threateningly. Abandoning the dried pieces of wood in his hands, the person immediately made his way back to entertain the prisoner. The prisoner can feel sweat dripping down his forehead as he cringes to the man’s loud footsteps, nearing him. The prisoner is in truth, extremely terrified by the tall man’s change in attitude, but he would rather die than show it.

Looming over the person on the ground and lifting him by the waist, chucking him back onto the bed, the man yanked his silky raven tresses and glared into his eyes menacingly. The prisoner allowed a whimper to escape accidentally as he tries to control his trembling shoulders from shaking so visibly.

Sitting the helpless man up on the bed again, the tall man continued with the darkened expression, knowing that he is finally scaring the captive. Then, holding the person by his hair again, the man twists his prisoner’s head in whichever angle he wanted as he scrutinizes the purplish bumps beneath the otherwise fair skin, and the chapped and still bleeding lower lip that marred that perfect face.

“TSK!” The man sulked loudly, causing the prisoner to blink. Gathering the captive’s tousled hair into a loose ponytail, the burly man caressed the bruises as he keeps a hand on the other’s neck, lightly pressing against the Adam’s apple. The prisoner held his breath as the man’s own traces against his cool pallid skin, gorgeous black orbs never leaving his captor’s face.

With one swift motion, the man tugged the sodden gag out of the prisoner’s mouth and replaces the missing cloth with his own tongue. Engaging the other’s tongue in a fierce game of hockey, the man did not even allow the person to catch his breath. The prisoner’s desperate cries remain unheard as the man the inside of his cavern and the lesions at his lip hungrily.

Breaking the kiss only when the prisoner almost bites off his own tongue, leaving behind a trail of saliva, the man scowled forbiddingly at his captive before issuing him a tight slap, conveying a single message that he will not be trifled with. The prisoner’s display of defiance wanes with the forceful blow as he sniffles, humiliated and indignant, finally tearing his eyes off his captor, which he finds revolting.

“Good.” The man whispered as the prisoner allows him to trail his fingers along his lovely cheeks without making any verbal protest.

“You are burning up. Now, tell me where I can find the herbs from your stash.” The man requested brusquely while the captive looks away, refusing to reply, indirectly declining the kind offer. The fever he had never fully recovered from is causing his eyelids to droop, especially since he is drained of energy from the resistance he had put up, for a whole day, as well as the lack of sleep during to journey back from the north.

“Where?” The man’s tone turned serious and the prisoner cringed a little. Cutting the restraints binding the person’s ankles together, the tall man lugged the captive off his bed by his collar and hauled him over the cabinets that used to store the prisoner’s herbs, before his escape and recapture.

“This?” “This one?” “That one?!” The man’s voice boomed with increasing volume as he goes along the rows. The prisoner did not wish to ever speak to his captor again, so, allowing his eyes to rest on a single cabinet at the lowest right hand corner, he kept silent. The man’s noticed and follows the other’s line of sight.

“What about ointments for your bruises?” The man asked again after retrieving the package from the cabinet, and continues sweeping his hands blindly along the shelves.

Again, they communicated only with eye contact. Thereafter, the man got back to tying the prisoner’s legs together again, earning only a whimper for protest Sitting him against the wall, with legs stretched out onto the bed, the man getting to work, cleaning the sandy grime from the other’s cheeks and dusting his hair for him. The captive watched the man closely as he works, but not speaking, since he does not want to be re-gagged.

“Don’t move!” The man proceeds to grip his captive’s jaw roughly as he applies the powdery ointment. The prisoner looks away again, beautiful long eye lashes fluttering every time the stinging pain acts as a reminder for the presence of the swelling contusions and broken lip he sustained earlier.

“I will brew the medicine for you. Get some rest in the mean time.” The man instructed with a monotonous voice while his prisoner’s eyes remained fixated on the window.

Grabbing the paper package containing the cure for fever, the man was about to leave when the prisoner finally spoke, his light airy voice easing the man’s tension as he pauses to hear him out. “Take the package over at the basket too. I haven’t had the opportunity to give them to your parents.” The handsome man smiled, but with his back turned towards the captive.

Walking over to the nearest basket, the man grabbed the first thing he saw, just to be stopped again. “Not that, you idiot! You will paralyze them with that! The one on your left!” The prisoner shouted anxiously, eyes widened, since the man had grabbed the bunch of shriveled plants parts he was planning to discard but never did, instead of the intended ones. He knows his herbs well enough not to get them mixed up, but the layman will not be able to differentiate them.

“What does this do again?” The man asked, holding up the plants parts as he looks at the prisoner, interested. His eyes are glinting evilly, but the prisoner does not notice.

“They are roots. Not deadly, but that will immobilize you if taken. I should’ve used them on you that time.” The prisoner hissed rudely, before looking away again. He answered because he didn’t want his captor to give anyone the wrong things. It is his personal principle never to harm anyone with his knowledge, but his captor apparently does not share his sentiment. Knowledge is power, and the bad guy in this case, is just empowered.

“How much does one take to get such an effect? Is it truly not lethal when consumed?” The man asked again, looking even more fascinated, engrossed with taking a crash course for ‘herbalism and botany’ from his captive. The prisoner is irritated, but answered nonetheless.

“You won’t die even if you eat the whole basket. But your limbs will go numb after two… more than three and you won’t be moving for the rest of the day.” The captive regurgitated whatever he knows about his herbs, unsuspecting of the man’s motive for asking.

“Good. Since I plan to use fewer restraints for you... I will just give you some of this. Until you behave yourself.” The man smirked. “Three right?” Eyeing the stack nicely separated from the rest of the usable herbs, the man picked out three stalks before closing and locking the door behind him, as the prisoner gawks as his unbelievable level of cunningness, regretting ever telling the man such ‘detrimental’ facts.

“JUNG YUNHO!! YOU BASTARD!!” 

TBC

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