[ тнυи∂єяѕтσямѕ ]

the baby was crying again.

at some point during the middle of the night, jaewon decided he couldn’t take it anymore and since somehow the nanny hadn’t heard the screaming infant, apparently, it was left up to him to take care of this. his parents’ rooms were on the other side of the mansion– there was no way they could hear small, baby jun throwing a fit in his crib. jaewon hated the sound of newborns crying, thought it sounded too desperate, but he went into the rooms belonging to the youngest anyway, determined to figure out what was wrong.

he didn’t know how to change a diaper so he worried a bit, but as soon as he walked in, he could tell that wasn’t the issue. the little boy had vomited and come unwrapped from his blankets, shivering a bit from the temperature of the room (and damn it, where was that nanny?). jaewon looked around for a few moments before finding some towels, cleaning the spit up and throwing the blankies onto the floor. no more of that. now that jun was cleaner, he ought to go back to sleep but jaewon didn’t know how to swaddle a baby. he knew he needed warmth and comfort, but the young eleven-year-old prince had never even so much as held his baby brother until this point.

but welp. there was a first time for everything. he’d seen how his mother and the nannies all held little jun, so he did his best to emulate them, scooping the child up from his crib, into his arms, leaning him against his chest and shoulder. it felt super awkward, but he patted the baby’s back and rocked him side to side. “shhh, shhh, you’re too loud…” after a few more minutes, jun finally calmed down enough to just start rubbing his eyes and lean on jaewon heavily.

and it was kind of nice, actually. as soon as jun stopped screaming in his ear, jaewon noticed that he was pretty cute; tiny fingers, tiny lips, tiny furry head. big eyes though, staring at jaewon with a trust that broke his heart. soft, sweet little baby brother, curling up against his chest to fall back asleep and jaewon wondered if he could sleep that well because he knew he was loved. did he feel safe? so sweet and trusting, so small and delicate, when the world outside was so scary…

what a fucking joke.

jaewon watches carefully, through slit eyes and long, bored blinks, while the men around the courtroom hustle and bustle, agitated, doing their best to pretend as though they are fearful for the king, his father, as though this newest threat on his life has somehow shaken them to their cores. more and more of these uprisings have been occurring, and they have promised action, and delivered nothing. they want everyone else to think that his majesty’s well-being and safety is of the upmost importance, that all contention to the throne ought to be put down immediately.

but jaewon knows it’s all for show. at least half of them have spoken, in low secretive tones, their eyes dark like their hearts, about any possible overthrow of the status quo. the ground beneath the royal courtroom is crumbling, falling apart from the weight of their lies, of their indecision, of their incompetence. it takes all of his energy not to sneer at them all because if they are this disgustingly disloyal for his father, who’s ruled a steady, peaceful country for the over a score of years, how badly will they debase themselves for him once he becomes king? will they outright kill him, like the advisors of julius caesar, all striking at once?

they’ll be surprised then, when he takes the crown; snakes are not easy to strike at, they do the striking. he plans on wiping them all off the board as soon as possible. he trusts none of these people– no one who has been set to protect him or his family’s legacy has ever done so. he’s heard that even his other relatives have been caught up in a scheme or two, he cannot trust them either. and with the acids and poisonous toxins infecting his bloodstream, his own thoughts might be tainted as well.

trust is a luxury he is not afforded. he’ll settle for power instead.

sungjae had only been four years old, jaehyun not even born yet, when the man in black sneaked into jaewon’s room and tried to kill him. that was the night everything truly childish inside him died, the last night his mother had read him a bedtime story, a fable with princesses and knights of valor who defeated the dragons, instead of becoming them. she’d had the nanny check under his bed and around his nightstand to humor his fears, his wide, innocent eyes watching every move she made.

his mother had promised him, many times, as she ran her fingers through his hair, that nothing would harm him, that he was protected here in the palace. that angels and armored guards stood watch over him because he was more important than he understood yet. the crown prince. he held his stuffed bear tightly in his arms, and it was the last night any of this ever happened– not that he realized that at the time.

he was just barely older than a baby, but when he awoke the next day, bandages and pain all over his back, stitches holding his torn skin together after being sliced open, his mother held his tiny, trembling hand and promised him that from now on, he would learn to protect himself. from now on, he couldn’t depend on knights or angels, he would need to be his own fortress.

he cried from the pain and when they took his stuffed bear away from him, he cried even harder.

in another life, in another time, jaewon would have married juyeon by now. to him, she is everything peaceful, the quietness and calmness that he is entirely lacking in his life. she represents everything he wants and can never have: beauty, serenity, long mornings full of sunshine and soft kisses, gentle smiles and… trust. in many ways he does love her, in his distant, particularly cruel sort of way, entirely enraptured by her when they are together, but then forgetting her as soon as she is out of sight.

the first time she painted his portrait, he knew he wanted her– he wanted the way her eyes traveled along his jawline, the way she studied his cheekbones, the shadows in his hair. painting can be so sexy, and even though he has very little talent of his own when it comes to wielding a brush, he seems to make up for it in other ways, spreading her out naked across his bed-sheets like color onto a blank canvass.

in another life, the sex might’ve meant something; they might really have loved each other… but as it is, he takes what he can from her, finds comfort in the softness of her lips, her hips, her hands, before inevitably breaking away, his heart still sealed away in it’s steel tomb.

when jaewon first met heosoo, he didn’t like him. sure, he smiled at him and joked with him, same as jaewon did for everybody, but every time he had to look at heosoo, he needed to remind himself that one day he would be king, and this loser would be out on the fucking streets like the rest of the trash; just like every other overbearing, motherfucking dipshit who thought jaewon was the problem instead of the solution. he thought heosoo looked at him the same way everyone else did, like an overly-friendly teddy bear who needed protecting and looking after.

and jaewon was thoroughly sick and tired of his lords-in-waiting thinking their job was to tell him what to do– for love of god, he was old enough now to take care of himself.

it wasn’t until a bad trip, a bad dose, the drugs mixing awfully with the toxic chemicals that already flooded through jaewon’s system, causing him to retch and vomit all over his bedroom floor, that he realized maybe heosoo might have a purpose for him. the lord-in-waiting wasted no time getting the situation under control, cleaned up, kept secret, his hands on jaewon’s face and whispered words of “don’t do this to yourself, alright? i can get you better drugs than this shit…”

jaewon had looked up into his eyes and knew– just fucking knew, they would be good friends after this.