It was autumn. He was sure of that. The color of dead leaves, the color of the earth ready to retreat into winter. It was so fresh in his mind, so vivid. He could recall the sounds, he even thought he could remember the scent of burning leaves carried on the wind.

It had been his first time away from the palace, his first time away from the men and women that followed him around and suffocated his personal space. It was freedom, freedom like he had never dreamed existed.

Laugh-that was the only thing to do. Run and laugh and feel like nothing really bound him to a young life of ceremony and circumstance. And he was not alone, his companion was laughing too, equally amazed at their newfound freedom.

His companion’s laughter was lilting, carefree. Luhan, he had discovered, was often happy, even if the occasion did not dictate joy.  For some reason he found this endearing, extremely endearing.

Luhan, he realized, was the only reason he found this slice of freedom to begin with. Luhan had waited for a moment when Minseok was alone in his chambers, a rare moment, and drug the boy out of his room and through the palace. Dressed in disguise they slipped out and ran as fast as they could, ran to the edges of the palace’s vast grounds. Free, running and playing like a pair of fourteen year old best friends should do.

“It feels sooo good out here!” Luhan giggled, running ahead of Minseok. As Minseok (the older of the two) caught up with his friend he playfully grabbed his arm. The two began to play fight, falling to the cold ground in a mess of arms and legs.

After a few playful punches and wrestling they relaxed, laying on their backs in the cold grass. They simultaneously sighed, like they could read each other’s mind.

“I wish we could do this every day” Minseok mused.

“Yeah” Luhan replied wistfully. He sat up slightly, resting his head on his hand. He looked at his friend, who had the biggest smile he had seen in a long time painted across his face. Reaching out a hand he ruffled Minseok’s dark locks and then lowered his hand to caress his friend’s cheek affectionately. “You look so happy” he said softly.

“So do you” Minseok whispered, turning his gaze to Luhan’s carefree expression. Time seemed to stop as they looked at each other, drinking in each other’s feeling of freedom.

Minseok was too happy to pay attention to what was fast approaching, too happy to realize that his bid for freedom was found out. That is, until Luhan’s doe like eyes betrayed fear at a sight behind them. Luhan froze “Minseok, they found us” He whispered.

Reality shattered the autumn scene quickly, replacing the vision with a dark room. The memory was gone, Luhan’s face was gone, and Minseok was alone. It was the early morning, the usual time for this dream to occur.

Minseok groaned as he stared at the ceiling. Why could he not forget after all these years? Why? Maybe it is because he had never seen his dear friend after that. Maybe it is because Luhan was the only real friend he ever had, the only friend that could possibly understand what he went through. Maybe it was something more. Frustrated Minseok turned over, burying his head in a pillow. He had tried to reason this dream out for years and years, but was still asking the same questions. Within a few minutes the young royal was back asleep.

****

China’s Illegitimate Prince: At it again

The headline was accompanied by several pictures showing a dance club, some beautiful women, and some very rich young men. The pictures had a definite focus, a man with chestnut locks and large brown eyes holding a drink, then putting his arm around a random girl or guy. The man looked drunk, really drunk, as the camera captured him time and time again.

“Can you not control yourself for one night!” Chanyeol was angry, very angry. It had not been that long ago that he had been promoted to the position of Prince Luhan’s secretary, and he had a lot to lose if the Prince got him fired by continuing his reckless behavior.

“Hmmmm” Luhan murmured, not bothering to look up from his breakfast. His head hurt, his body hurt, and he needed some food to try to get over his massive hangover.

Chanyeol threw his hands up in frustration.

“Do you realize what you are doing to your parents?! Do you realize who you are? Do you realize what it is like to cover up this stuff- supposing we even can bury it!”

Luhan ignored the comment. After all, this was a one sided conversation he had sat through countless times before. Behave. Listen. Stop partying. Stop being seen with a different girl or guy every night. Act like you should, act like China’s Little Illegitimate Royal Fluke should act. Like the by-blow of the Emperor – the son of the Emperor and a displaced concubine who was thrown a courtesy title of Prince – should act.

“Do you see other young princes acting like this?! Do you? I don’t see Minseok out at the club every night!” Chanyeol shouted. He had been on comfortable terms with the Prince for years, having been his officially hired companion for the last 7 years, so he felt no qualms at yelling at his friend without formality when the situation dictated. Arriving in China from Korea at a young age, he had stayed with his friend through a reckless entry into adulthood. All of which made Luhan’s recent behavior that much more frustrating – now that he was in charge overseeing such behavior, that is.

At the mention of Minseok’s name Luhan finally paid attention. He lifted his head and gave his secretary an icy stare “Don’t mention him again”

Chanyeol saw the pained look in Luhan’s eyes, it was just a flash, but it was there. This secret, whatever it was, that secret involving Minseok, had been unspoken for 9 years.

“Just what is the big deal? Minseok, Minseok, Minseok” Chenyeol was pissed at this point, and hey, if he could get Luhan’s attention with the words why not.

Luhan was fast when he wanted to be. He had been trained in traditional Chinese martial arts, as was fitting for a prince of the Empire (even a by-blow prince). But he was lazy, and did not like to show off. Unless of course he was pissed. He was pissed at that moment, and let Chenyeol feel it with a punch to the ribs.

“Don’t mention him again”

***

“It is time to think about marriage”

Minseok was composed – hell, his entire life was learning the fine art of being composed. He merely nodded and brought his tea cup to his lips, drinking down the warm concoction.

“There are several candidates” Minseok’s mother, or as she is formally titled the Queen of Korea, set her teacup down, “I want your opinion” Her eyes were wide and honest. Minseok had often been told how his expressions mirrored his Mother more than his Father – his expressions were too honest to hide a single thought or feeling he had. That is why he worked so hard to compose himself, to never betray what he thought - because it was natural for him to give everything away with a glance.

Minseok cleared his throat absent mindedly, still not offering an answer. He had long since given up any notion of a marriage for love. He had long ago given up any pretense that his opinion mattered. His opinion, he gradually discovered in his youth, was whatever his parents or the advisors told him. His opinion was not his own, not yet anyway. He was delaying his concession.

“Mother, I trust you will pick a suitable wife” Minseok made fleeting eye contact with his mother. He had never been close to her, hell, the reality of life in the palace did not allow for familiarity between the royal family. He loved her, he saw himself in her, but he did not really know her.

In his youth he was sent to his parents for an hour each night, sometimes for a shorter time. It always felt like a check in. Are you still alive? Okay good. Otherwise he saw them when ceremony or etiquette dictated, such as that moment, when his Mother had summoned him for tea. He would attend to his parents as he should, but he only knew them as a formidable mask of his origins. They were an unknown reflection of himself - without a deeper emotional relationship to support their similarities.

The Queen’s tea room was modern. The palace, over the 24 years of Minseok’s life, had witnessed a lot remodeling. The old was replaced with the new. It was a fact that Minseok accepted along with everything else. The tea room, once a beautiful Joseon structure with traditional architecture, was now a white postmodern cavern, built so close to the traditional royal gardens it felt like an enormous fraud.

“Do you have no preference?” The Queen asked, raising an eyebrow. She was used to his indifference but she thought in this matter at least he should have a say.

“No, none at all” Minseok replied, looking into his Mother’s eyes with a serious expression.

The Queen, who let very little bother her, suddenly felt very bothered. Did her son, the future King, really not care who he spent the rest of his life with?

***

The Emperor of China is a formidable sight. Delicate features, pale skin, yet possessing broad shouldershe emanates an overpowering presence that overwhelms those who meet him. His significance in the real world, the world outside of state visits and parties, is negligible. He is, in all reality, a figurehead. A symbol. Not a ruler.

Since the Qing Dynasty fell and the 3^rd Han Dynasty was reinstated, China’s Imperial Family has morphed into little more than a glittering escape for citizens. A glamorous figurehead, a figurehead that also upholds the traditions of old, no matter how painful it may be. An Emperor in his palace, apart from his people but forever setting an example. That is the Emperor of China’s place in the world.

 All of which made his eldest son’s behavior that much more reckless, that much more self-defeating. If this continued who would support the age old traditions of the Emperor? How could he trust that his oldest son would support Wu Yifan, the Crown Prince? He knew from experience the Imperial family was only as strong as their relationships to each other, and so far the next generation was far from close.

“It is done” The advisor reported, bowing after his words.

The Emperor nodded, jolted from his thoughts. His face, handsome but toughened from a lifetime of expectations, shot off an aura of ambivilance. He appreciated his closest advisors as he appreciated no one else in this world. The few he let into his inner circle, the few that actually saw him as a human being, were precious to him. Therefore he held nothing back from them.

“Send Prince Luhan with her.”

Yixing looked up at the Emperor, startled. He had begun serving his majesty upon his own Father’s retirement. He knew things about the monarchy that others did not, a sort of privilege for his family’s long standing service to the crown. Yet he always had trouble with his expression. He tried to not look so emotionally invested in every order, every secret, but he failed. His face was just too honest. At the sing of good news his deep dimples made an appearance, at the least bit sign of confusion he tended to zone out.

“You will accompany Prince Luhan as well, and plan for Zitao and Chanyeol to travel.” The Emperor ignored his advisors poorly masked expression of suprise and continued his orders, “I expect this visit to strengthen our ties with Korea.”

Yixing nodded and performed a deep bow. After he left the Emperor’s study, backing out while bowing (as was expected of him) he felt a deep sense of apprehension at his orders. What was this about? Was he trying to push Prince Luhan off the edge?

***

The date had been set. Princess Nauen would arrive on the 21^st of September, along with her rather sizeable traveling party. She would immediately begin her life in the palace, learning the etiquette and rituals expected of her as the wife of the future King of Korea. The wedding was set for the 1^st of November, chosen as such by the royal astrologers of the Korean and Chinese courts.

Minseok handled the announcement of his engagement (to a girl he had never met) with complete indifference. He continued his daily routine, continued his education (from within the palace walls, of course the crown prince could not, by decorum, attend university), and continued to wake up every morning with the smell of burning leaves and the laughter of a doe eyed Chinese friend flooding his senses.

“You really could care less, huh?”

Minseok, busy reading one of his voluminous political science textbooks, looked up to see his two younger brothers ambling into the room. Joon Myun, the middle son, was far more handsome than MInseok could ever hope to be. He always seemed like the older brother, Minseok often thought, possessing a quality of maturity mixed with empathy that would probably make a far better King then Minseok himself would.

Sehun, the youngest brother, was a self-described brat. Spoiled by his position in the family, not the spare heir but the third in line, made him adopt a sense of laziness mixed with haughtiness. He was a brat in every sense of the word.

“Care about what?” Minseok looked up from his textbook, eying Sehun suspiciously.

“You are going to get married and you don’t care. Seriously? What I would not do to have a woman –“

“Okay, we don’t need to know what you would do with a woman” Joon Myun stopped his little brother from continuing. He plopped down on the sofa next to Minseok and eyed the textbook, “What is that?”

Minseok smiled faintly. He liked his brothers. It was unfortunate that he did not see them as often as he wished.

“Political Science” Minseok answered, flipping the cover so the two younger men could see, “Fascinating” He smiled, the lopsided toothy smile that made him seem like the youngest brother of the three.

Sehun sat on the arm of the sofa, draping an arm languidly over his oldest brother’s shoulders. “So what is your plan? When she gets here?”

“I expect the secretary will give me a schedule” Minseok replied matter-of-factly.

“Hyung, what kind of romantic notion is a SCHEDULE?!” Sehun blurted out. Joon Myun gave him a sideways glance.

“A schedule, my little one, is exactly the romantic notion she should expect from this place. She needs to learn that” Minseok replied faintly, giving his little brother a playful jab. Sehun sighed, annoyed.

“Are you going to the airport?” Joon Myun asked, wrapping his cardigan tightly around himself. MInseok noticed this, it only fed his belief that Joon Myun often seemed like an old man, bundling himself up against the cold.

“No.” Minseok wondered why they had even asked. Send the Crown Prince to the airport? Did they have no idea what chaos would ensue?

“I’ll go then. Represent the family and such” Sehun offered.

Sehun’s hyungs shot him an annoyed look, immediately shooting down his offer.

“No, I’ll go” Joon Myun offered, “Because at least with me, you know she will be safe” Sehun rolled his eyes at his brother’s words, knowing exactly what they implied.

Minseok nodded. He could always trust dependable Joon Myun, and he was sure their parents would too.

***

Princess Naeun had a major complex. She was a member of the royal family, but not an important member. She was a bargaining chip. The daughter of the Emperor’s favorite cousin (who made an arranged marriage to a second cousin of the King of Korea), she was by all means a Princess. She lived in the Royal Palace, with everyone she met (besides the royal family) bowing to her at a 90 degree angle. But that was it – she was a bargaining chip. And she knew it. The respect she received were only as good as her worth in the larger political game. And it bothered her.

The royal family dealt Naeun’s hand suddenly, without much warning. It was a Tuesday. Her Mother called her to their family’s quarters in the palace. Once there she was told (not asked) that she was to be sent to Korea as a bride for the Crown Prince. She was half Korean after all, and a more than suitable candidate for Queen - no scandals, no opinions of her own spoken. She quietly nodded at the news, then cried softly when she was alone. What if she didn’t want to marry him? What if….

Naeun was not allowed to have a cell phone, such modern conveniences were frowned upon in the palace. So, with no ability to make a tearful call to a friend, she dried her tears and went looking for her cousin. She found him at the exact place she had anticipated, the small structure tucked away at the edges of the palace, set amidst the more abundant foliage of the traditional garden. He liked to come here now and then, to get away. For the most part everyone allowed him this small space away from the world.

Naeun pushed the Hanji door open, stepping inside the peacefully placed house that was currently housing her turbulent cousin. He was sleeping. She sighed wistfully as she looked down at the slender form. She had always thought he got the best of the family’s looks, the best of the delicate features mixed with a small frame. He was, she hated to say it (because honestly, he could be prettier than her), dainty but handsome all at the same time.

“Luhan” She shook her cousin awake. He mumbled and turned over.

“Luhan” She repeated, shaking his shoulder harder.

Her cousin, her notorious cousin, looked like a sleeping boy – all innocence and dreams. He fluttered his eyelids as he awoke, asking why she was there in a mumbled voice.

“I am going to get married” She plunked down, staring at her cousin like he had all of the answers. She had always thought that, even though he was a pariah for his bad behavior. Even if Luhan was wicked in his actions, he had depth and warmth buried deep down inside. Naeun often thought of yelling at him to cut the crap and become the person she knew he was, but it was not her place nor her style.

“To who?” Luhan asked, sitting up lazily.

“Prince Minseok of Korea” She answered with her eyes directed towards the floor, feeling tears gathering.

It was good that she was looking away, Luhan thought much later, because if she had been looking at him she would understand what heartbreak looks like. He felt it and he was sure his face could not hide what this piece of news did to him.