a taste of forbidden fruit

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 2.1k | 9 mins Warning: MDNI! Please do not read if you are sensitive to such content.

The night refused to sleep.

Wind whispered through the open balcony, carrying the scent of sand and spice, stirring the drapes until they rippled like ghostly wings. You lay awake beneath the violet canopy, eyes tracing the slow dance of light from the chandelier above.

Maybe it was the change in air — too warm, too dry, the breeze brushing against your skin like restless fingers. Or maybe it was Charadyn itself. The city didn’t quiet like Caius did. It breathed even in its slumber. You could feel the low hum of wings, bells, and distant voices, as though the walls themselves remembered movement.

Or maybe it was Wooyoung. The warmth of his hand still ghosted across your cheek, his words circling your mind long after he’d gone.

You turned, sheets slipping against your skin, and stared at the faint shimmer of torchlight spilling through the curtains. Sleep would not come.

After a moment, you rose.

The floor was cool beneath your feet, the marble veined with soft gold that caught the lantern light. You wrapped a shawl loosely around your shoulders and stepped into the corridor. The palace was hushed now, its daytime grandeur subdued to a whisper — only the soft crackle of torches and the sigh of the wind through the arches.

You didn’t know where you were going, only that your feet carried you back toward the Solara Court. The place had lingered in your mind — the painted wings, the quiet pool, the faint echo of remembrance.

You took a seat in one of the cushioned alcoves, the fabric cool beneath your palms, and tilted your head back toward the open sky. The moon hung high, its light spilling silver across the courtyard, catching on the ripples of the fountain and the painted wings above.

For a while, you just breathed. The air here felt heavier than in Caius - touched with sand and salt, yet sweetened by the jasmine that clung to the walls. You could almost taste the city on the wind, alive even at this hour.

Your thoughts drifted. A quiet ache sat in your chest, not pain exactly, just restlessness. You wondered what tomorrow would bring, and if you’d feel any more certain once it came.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 3.4k | 14 mins Warning: none?? probably a slight history about charadyn (mention of death). Please do not read if you are sensitive to such content.

The world dissolved into warmth.

Yunho’s lips were softer than you could have imagined. It felt steady, careful, as if he feared the moment might shatter if he pressed too hard. The taste of him was faintly sweet, like the honeyed wine you’d shared, mingled with the smoke of the chimney and the night air.

Every breath between you blurred; the edges of thought melted until there was only the press of his mouth, the tremor of your pulse, the unsteady rhythm of your forgotten breath.

A flutter rose in your chest — sharp, bright, impossible to contain. It spread through you like a spark catching kindling, a rush of heat and light that made your fingers tremble against him. The kiss deepened, and it felt like fireworks behind closed eyes — fleeting bursts of color, gone as quickly as they came, but leaving your heart racing in their wake.

He drew back just enough for air to find you both, though his forehead stayed against yours. His breath came rough, uneven, and when he spoke, it was barely more than a whisper. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured. You shook your head, your voice trembling but sure.

“Don’t stop.”

The morning broke soft and silver, the mist still clinging to the grass as the horses moved through the valley. Hooves drummed in a steady rhythm, muffled by the damp earth, and the faint scent of rain lingered in the air.

You sat before Yunho on his horse, the steady rise and fall of its stride rocking you gently in his hold. One of his hands rested firm around your stomach, anchoring you against him as the other guided the reins.

Every sway of the horse brought you closer, the movement unhurried and the silence between you strangely sweet. The warmth of him seeped through your back, his breath brushing the edge of your temple when he leaned forward slightly.

You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed this kind of silence — not the hollow kind that echoed in empty rooms, but the quiet that asked nothing of you. For once, you didn’t feel the need to guard your words or your thoughts. A part of you wanted to speak, to let him see the corners of you you’d kept hidden.

When you glanced up, you found him already looking down. There was something steady in his gaze, something that made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite name. It felt like warmth but deeper than that, it was understanding. And you found yourself wanting to trust it. To trust him. To trust them.

“Something amusing?” you murmured, trying not to sound breathless.

He tilted his head slightly, the ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth. “Just thinking you fit here too easily.”

You meant to laugh, but the sound came softer than you intended. Your eyes met again, closer this time, and for a heartbeat neither of you looked away.

Then he looked forward again, urging the horse to a slower pace. But you could still feel his smile, lingering, reflected in your own.

“Yunho, stop being slow,” came a familiar voice ahead.

Both of you startled slightly, breaking apart just enough to see Hongjoong glancing back over his shoulder, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and impatience. Further along the road, the others were already a ways ahead — Mingi and Jongho riding side by side, their laughter carrying faintly through the mist, while Seonghwa led with quiet composure, his posture straight as ever. Yeosang trailed a little behind them, his head tilted as though listening to something in the wind, the sunlight beginning to catch on the pale edges of his wings.

Yunho exhaled a quiet laugh. “Jealous much?”

Hongjoong raised a brow, smirking. “Hardly. Some of us just plan to reach Charadyn this century.”

Yunho clicked his tongue, feigning offense. “We’ll be there soon enough, Your Majesty. Some of us just prefer not to break the horse before midday.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, turning forward again with that half-smile you’d come to recognize, the kind that said he’d already won even without a word more.

You let out a small laugh under your breath, shaking your head. “You two are impossible.”

Yunho hummed, amusement lacing his tone. “You should see us during council meetings. This is us being civil.”

That earned another laugh from you, lighter this time. The air between you eased, the earlier tension fading into something easy and familiar.

The mist had begun to lift, giving way to clear skies that stretched pale and endless above. Hills rolled out ahead, flecked with stone and wildflowers, and in the far distance, the faint outline of mountains shimmered like glass.

Yunho’s hand shifted as he adjusted the reins. “If the weather holds, we’ll reach the foothills before night fall.”

You glanced up at the horizon. “Charadyn?”

He nodded, eyes forward. “The outer gates, at least. You’ll hear the city before you see it — the bells, the wings.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “That loud?”

Yunho huffed a quiet laugh. “As loud as Wooyoung on festival day.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound carrying easily into the open air. “So deafening, then.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning now.

The first thing you noticed was the sound.

Even before the city came fully into view, the air itself seemed to hum — a chorus of bells, wings, and voices that rose and fell like the tide. By the time the caravan reached the outer gates, Charadyn stretched before you in a blur of motion and color.

Banners of deep crimson and sun-worn gold rippled from high archways. Merchants called from their stalls in a dozen languages, their cries carried on the wind alongside the metallic clang of blacksmiths and the laughter of children darting through narrow alleys. The scent of spice and rain-warmed stone clung to the air — pepper and citrus, cardamom and sweet smoke, the faint bite of salt from the sea beyond the walls.

Your senses swam in it — too much, too vivid, too alive. After the long days of travel, it felt almost unreal.

Yunho slowed his horse near the gates, his hand resting lightly on your waist as his gaze swept the skyline. “Charadyn,” he murmured. “The city that never sleeps.”

Yunho guided the horse through the press of people until you reached the inner courtyard. Then, with his usual steady grace, he dismounted and turned to you, one arm sliding around your waist as he helped you down. His touch lingered just long enough for your breath to catch.

“About time!”

You turned toward the sound — and barely had the chance to blink before a blur of crimson and gold swept through the crowd.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Wooyoung’s grin flashed a heartbeat before his arms caught you. With one swift motion, he spun you clean off your feet, laughter bubbling from him as easily as breath.

You squealed — startled, breathless, the world spinning in color around you. “Wooyoung!”

The laughter that left you felt freer than you expected. It startled you — the ease of it, the joy in being caught, even just for a heartbeat. Maybe you were tired of holding yourself so carefully.

“My lady!” he said, setting you back down but not quite letting go. “I thought Reed’s finest had forgotten how to ride.”

Yunho, still mounted, snorted. “We were enjoying the view.”

“Ah.” Wooyoung’s eyes gleamed, sliding toward you with deliberate mischief. “That explains the pace. If I had company like that, I wouldn’t rush either.”

You felt the heat rise instantly to your cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

“Undeniably,” he agreed. “But charming, too, aren’t I?”

“I hope you haven’t been boring her to tears with your heroics,” he added, flashing Yunho a grin.

“She was perfectly entertained,” Yunho said dryly.

Wooyoung laughed and nodded toward the line of carriages nearby. “Stuff from Reed also arrived. You might want to greet your people before they start thinking you’ve forgotten them.”

Yunho followed his gaze, then smiled faintly. “Right.”

Before he turned away, his eyes softened as they found yours — and then, almost without thought, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

It was quick, barely more than a breath, but it lingered.

Wooyoung gave a low whistle. “Well,” he said under his breath, eyes glinting. “If that’s how Reed says goodbye, I can’t wait to see how they say hello.”

When you looked up, Wooyoung was already watching you.

He was dressed differently today. A deep crimson cloak draped over his shoulders, threaded with veins of gold that shimmered when he moved. The fabric caught the light like liquid metal, the edges lined with patterns of indigo and bronze that shifted with every breeze. Beneath it, his tunic was a dark, fitted weave, cinched at the waist by a wide leather belt adorned with small sigils that glinted faintly blue.

Even his wings seemed to catch the light — broader, brighter, every feather gleaming as though Charadyn itself had crowned him in gold.

You, meanwhile, felt suddenly and acutely aware of yourself. The dust clinging to your boots. The dried sweat on your collar. The fact that you hadn’t bathed in two days and were still wearing the same travel-worn clothes from the road.

A pang of self-consciousness stirred and standing beside him, you couldn’t help but feel dim in comparison.

Wooyoung tilted his head, catching the flicker in your expression. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his grin softening. “You look like someone stole your bread.”

You huffed a laugh, trying to play it off. “Just realizing I’m… not exactly palace-ready.”

He chuckled, low and warm. “Sweetheart, you like as beautiful as the first ray of sun. Besides..” His gaze swept over you, lingering just long enough to make your pulse skip. “You wear exhaustion well. Almost makes it look intentional.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth curved despite yourself.

Wooyoung grinned, clearly satisfied that he’d won the smallest of victories. “Come on,” he said, motioning toward the main halls where banners of gold and deep blue swayed in the breeze. “Let me show you the palace before someone drags me into another council meeting.”

You fell into step beside him, the sun spilling gold across the road ahead. From this distance, Charadyn seems to unfolded. Towers of pale stone arched toward the sky like frozen pillars of light, their spires veined with iridescence that shimmered faintly, as though alive with Atherion breath.

The nearer you drew, the clearer the sound became: the hum of wings, the echo of voices carried on the wind, the rhythmic clang of gates opening.

“You know,” Wooyoung said conversationally, breaking the quiet, “I forgot how overwhelming it can look to outsiders.”

You glanced up at him. “Overwhelming is one word.”

He smirked. “You’re not wrong. We like to make an entrance. Keeps the visiting nobles humble.”

“That sounds very Charadyn of you.”

“That’s because it is.” He winked. “Half ceremony, half theater. The trick is convincing everyone it’s all divine design.”

Your gaze followed the line of banners stretching toward the gates. “And the other half?”

“The other half,” he said, his grin sharpening, “is pretending you weren’t up until dawn arguing with your generals.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself. “Sounds like you speak from experience.”

“I never argue,” Wooyoung replied easily. “I persuade. Loudly.”

The two of you reached the first archway, its marble columns carved with sweeping winged forms. Guards in crested armor bowed as Wooyoung passed, their eyes flicking curiously toward you. You fought the urge to shrink under their gaze, but Wooyoung only tilted his head toward you with an easy smile, subtle, but enough to draw attention away rather than toward.

Inside, the air cooled. The vast inner court opened before you in a blaze of color—gardens spilling with silver blossoms, water channels reflecting the banners overhead, and at the far end, the great palace itself.

You stopped without meaning to. “It’s…”

“Too much?” Wooyoung offered.

You shook your head slowly. “Beautiful.”

He smiled at that, softer this time, the teasing gone from his tone. “Then it’s done its job.” He turned, offering his hand. “Come on. I’ll take you through the east terrace—it’s quieter there. Fewer eyes.”

You hesitated for half a breath before taking it. His fingers were warm, sure.

As he led you beneath the arched walkway, the palace seemed to come alive around you. Light filtered through latticed windows, scattering like broken jewels across marble floors veined in gold. Columns rose tall and intricate, carved with patterns of feathers, vines, and constellations that shimmered faintly with inlaid crystal. The scent of jasmine and amber hung in the air, carried by the faint whisper of fountains hidden behind archways.

He led you down a hall that unfolded into a wide courtyard washed in the fading glow of dusk. Paths of blue and ivory tile glimmered beneath your feet, leading to a fountain sculpted like a pair of unfurled wings, its waters scattering light in a hundred tiny reflections. Around it, velvet lounges and cushioned alcoves in deep crimson and teal invited rest amid palms and flowering trees stretching toward the sky. Sunlight streamed through tall, arched windows traced with delicate filigree, casting shifting patterns across the marble floor. The air was cool and fragrant with sandalwood and parchment.

“This,” Wooyoung said, his voice dipping low with quiet pride, “is Solara Court. Where the first king of Charadyn received his wings.”

You turned to him, wide-eyed. “It’s beautiful.”

“It should be,” he murmured, his gaze tracing the sunlight on the water. “He died here too.”

The words lingered, soft and heavy as dust motes in the air.

“But Charadyn remembers,” he added after a moment, glancing back at you with a faint smile. “Even when the rest of us forget.”

Wooyoung’s steps echoed lightly beside you. “Most people come here for the ceiling,” he said, his tone light but reverent.

You looked up.

The ceiling unfurled like a living sky, vast wings painted across its curve, each feather traced in gold and blue, their tips dissolving into a swirl of stars. Between them, faint script wound through the constellations, glowing softly where sunlight kissed the gold leaf.

“Every wing,” Wooyoung said quietly, “belongs to a house of Charadyn. Each one bears the colors and sigils of those who ascended, families who completed the ceremony and earned their place in the sky.”

Your gaze traced the gilded arcs overhead. “There are hundreds.”

“Thousands,” he corrected gently. “Some say every feather is a name that history forgot.”

You turned to him. “And yours?”

Wooyoung’s smile flickered, the kind that never reached his eyes. “Mine isn’t there yet.”

“Yet?” you echoed.

He shrugged one shoulder, glancing up again. “They only add a king’s wings when his reign ends. Which means I’ll either be dead or dethroned. Neither option’s particularly exciting.”

The quiet that followed was strange — not heavy, but thoughtful. You found your gaze following his, the ceiling’s painted light reflected faintly in his eyes.

You watched him.

The way the sunlight caught in his hair, the way his eyes softened when he looked at this place. In that instant, beneath all the teasing and charm, you saw something deeper. A man who carried history not just in his blood, but in his bones.

"You are a great king, Wooyoung.”

He smiled at you. After a moment, he broke it with a softer tone. “I used to sneak in here as a boy,” he said. “Before I had any titles. Before I realized how much weight comes with them. I thought the names on the ceiling were… watching. Guiding us. But when you get older, you realize history doesn’t watch anyone. It just waits to see who ends up written next.”

You smiled faintly, your voice light. “You sound like someone who’s spent too much time staring at ceilings.”

Wooyoung chuckled under his breath. “Maybe I have. They tend to listen better than most of my council.”

The tension eased, replaced by something quieter—something almost easy. He turned from the painted wings above and nodded toward the corridor. “Come on. You’ve had a long journey. I should at least show you where you’ll be staying before someone steals you away for another tour.”

You followed as he led the way out of the gallery, the echo of your footsteps soft against the marble. The palace grew calmer as the halls stretched on; servants moved like whispers, lanterns glowed warm against the cool stone, and the scent of blooming lilies drifted through open arches.

“You’ll be staying in the northern wing,” Wooyoung said as you walked. “It’s far enough from the council chambers that you won’t have to hear me shouting at anyone before breakfast.”

You laughed softly. “I appreciate the consideration.”

He gave a small shrug. “You’ve earned it. Not many survive a day in Charadyn without asking to be sent home.”

“I’m still deciding if I should.”

He glanced sideways, grinning. “Then I’ll just have to change your mind.”

Wooyoung slowed near a set of carved doors, their frames lined with silver filigree that shimmered faintly in the dim light. He brushed a hand across the sigil at the center, and the doors eased open with a low hum.

“Here,” he said, stepping aside for you to enter.

The room beyond was bathed in light. Sheer drapes stirred in the evening breeze, carrying the sound of distant fountains. Sunlight filtered through draped silks of amber and rose, the glow turning the walls to gold. Cushions and throws in deep jewel tones—sapphire, magenta, and marigold—spilled across a sunken nook beneath tall arched windows veiled in vines and flowers. The air carried the soft scent of jasmine and rain-soaked leaves drifting in from the gardens below.

In the center of the room stood a vast circular bed swathed in violet fabric and shimmering gauze, its canopy crowned with a chandelier that scattered fragments of light like stars. Every corner breathed comfort, from the low tables set with golden dishes to the faint murmur of wind through the curtains. It was a place that invited quiet, a private world of softness and dusk-colored dreams, untouched by the grandeur of the palace beyond its doors. A balcony overlooked the gardens below, where torchlight flickered like fireflies among the trees.

You turned back to him. “This is…”

He smiled, hands sliding loosely behind his back. “Charadyn hospitality. Try to act impressed.”

You laughed quietly. “I am impressed. It is beautiful”

He leaned casually against the doorframe, watching you. “Charadyn has a habit of showing off.”

“Does that include its king?” you asked, glancing back at him.

For once, he didn’t have an answer right away. His composure slipped — just barely — a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes before his lips curved again, slower this time, as if unsure whether to tease or tell the truth.

Wooyoung’s gaze lingered on you, his usual poise wavering under the weight of something quieter. The playful retort that hovered on his tongue never came. Instead, he let out a soft exhale, his smile faltering into something gentler.

“Maybe,” he said at last, his voice low. “But only when someone’s worth showing off for.”

You felt the words settle in your chest, heavier than their easy tone implied. The air between you warmed, the light from the chandelier scattering faint gold across his face.

He pushed away from the doorframe, taking a slow step forward. “You should rest,” he said, though his tone lacked conviction — as if he wasn’t entirely ready to leave.

You nodded with a small smile. “Dinner will be brought up to your room. The summits begin tomorrow, and you might have a visit from San — he’s been missing you.”

“Did you miss me?” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

Wooyoung’s smile softened, the edges of his composure fading as his hand lifted to your face. His thumb brushed gently along your cheek, slow and careful, as if he were afraid the moment might shatter if he moved too fast.

“A day without you,” he said quietly, his voice hushed but steady, “feels like the sun never quite reaches the walls.”

Your breath caught. The warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his tone — it stole the air from the room. His gaze held yours, unflinching, and for a heartbeat you saw past the king and the charm — saw the man beneath it, raw and real.

His thumb lingered, tracing once more across your skin. “Don’t make me get used to that kind of silence again,” he murmured.

Masterlist

eighteen | twenty

a/n: finally i am backk!! it feels great to be back and writing again. i have this drafted for a while. also the next couple of chapter also had been written for a couple of weeks but sadly i haven't been able to revise nor proof read. i'll work harder. BTW what do you think about yunho's mood board?

Taglist:

@pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchling @dumplingsyum @caratiny-latte @seongwars @halloweenbyphoebebridgers @angelqueendom

@ffenjoyerdazme @lostxxgirl @xh01bri @neemaxx @furfoxsake22 @Thejentheredhead @soulphoenix1618 @pixie0627

A side tale of His Majesty King Yunho, the sovereign ruler of Reed from the New World.

Warnings: This story contains themes of instances of psychological and emotional distress, and intense pressure of royal expectations, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

All the events written are fictional. Everything you read are a product of ©leirastar 's imagination. In no way shape or form do i think the characters personality reflect the real person. please don't hate those inspirations.

Reed was always quiet. Snow blanketed the land, muffling sound, and the sea beyond its icy cliffs whispered rather than roared. It had always been this way—calm, steady, enduring. And so was its young prince.

At twelve, Yunho already carried the stillness of his kingdom. He was not the kind of boy to chatter or rush ahead. He walked through the halls of his home with quiet steps, listening more than speaking. His father once told him that a ruler must be like the ice—strong, unyielding, and steady enough to hold the weight of those who relied on him.

His father was a man of few words. His presence alone was enough to command the room, and his gaze, sharp as a blade, often left others stiff and cautious. The people of Reed respected him, even feared him. He ruled with a kind of discipline that left little room for warmth.

But Yunho never feared his father.

It wasn’t that the king was kind—not in the way his mother was, with soft words and gentle hands—but he had never been cruel. His love was not something given freely but shown in ways most wouldn’t notice. He never raised his voice, but Yunho had always known that when he spoke, it mattered. And when the winter storms raged the hardest, the king would always check the fires in Yunho’s room before retiring for the night.

Even now, Yunho knew that if he ever fell, his father’s hand would be the one to pull him back up.

Though Reed’s lands were frozen, its palace never was. His home was proof of that. The fires were always burning, and love—though not loud—was always present.

So the cold never reached the dining hall of the royal palace. Though Reed was a land of ice and silence, the long wooden table where the royal family dined was always warm, the golden glow of candlelight flickering against the frost-covered windows.

Yunho sat in his usual place, across from his father and beside his mother, the quiet hum of supper filling the space. The clinking of silverware, the occasional crackle of firewood—it was peaceful, the kind of silence Yunho had grown to understand.

His mother, the Queen, was the only one who would truly disrupted it.

She talked. A lot.

“…and then I told the steward that if he ever let the kitchen run out of spiced wine again, I would personally drag him to the market myself! Can you imagine, Aldric? A winter feast without spiced wine? Unthinkable!”

Yunho listened, like he always did. His mother’s words flowed like a gentle stream, warm and endless. She talked about the servants, about the state of the marketplace, about the latest gossip among the noblewomen. None of it was particularly important, but it filled the space in a way that made their home feel… alive.

It was because of her that Yunho had learned to listen. Not just to words, but to the things left unsaid—the way voices shifted, the meaning behind pauses.

And because he listened, he noticed things.

Like the way his father always sat with his hands folded neatly over the table, barely speaking unless necessary. Or the way he never interrupted his wife’s ramblings, even when she exaggerated her stories.

And most of all, Yunho noticed the small, nearly invisible smile that would tug at the corner of the king’s lips whenever the queen made a joke.

His father never laughed outright, never shook with mirth the way others did. But there was always that subtle curve to his mouth, the way his eyes softened ever so slightly.

No one else ever seemed to catch it.

But Yunho did.

“…and then, oh, you should have seen his face when I told him the cat had eaten half the pastries before they even made it to the banquet hall! I thought he would faint right then and there!”

Silence. A long pause. Then—

A quiet exhale from the king. Not quite a laugh. But something close.

Yunho felt something warm settle in his chest.

This was what people outside of Reed didn’t understand. They thought of his father as cold, untouchable. But Yunho knew better. He saw the small things—the way his father checked the windows in their rooms at night, adjusted the blanket when they were asleep, the way he always walked beside them on icy paths, ensuring neither he nor his mother would slip.

Love didn’t have to be loud.

It could be silent, like falling snow.

And as Yunho picked up his cup of warm cider, listening to his mother’s next story, he thought that perhaps, in this small, quiet way, he was just like his father.

That night, after dinner, Yunho sat in the study with his father. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the fireplace casting long shadows against the stone walls. His father sat across from him, silent as always, reading over a letter sealed with an unfamiliar crest.

Yunho waited. He had learned from his father that silence always came before something important.

Finally, the king set the letter down. His sharp gaze met Yunho’s.

“Aeros will be visiting,” he said simply.

Yunho blinked. Aeros—the kingdom of the sky. The one that never stayed still. Unlike Reed, where discipline and order shaped daily life, Aeros was not known for its structure. Its people were free-spirited, drifting like the winds they lived upon.

“Why?” he asked.

His father leaned back slightly. “The Pact of the Eight Seals is still new. Bonds must be built, even among those who are… different.”

It had only been a short time since the Pact of the Eight Seals was signed, a fragile peace forming between the kingdoms. As a gesture of goodwill, Reed had invited a delegation from Aeros.

Yunho understood. He had heard enough political talk at court to know that peace did not come from words alone. It had to be maintained, strengthened. Even if it meant welcoming the wind into the land of ice.

His father studied him for a moment, as if gauging his thoughts. “Their prince is your age.”

Yunho wasn’t sure if that was meant to reassure him. If anything, it only raised more questions.

“…What is he like?”

King Aldric exhaled, glancing at the letter once more. “Restless.” A pause. Then, a faint, almost amused glint in his eyes. “You will see soon enough.”

He stood from his chair, reaching for the clasp of his heavy navy cloak. With a practiced motion, he unfastened it, letting the thick fabric slide off his shoulders before draping it over the chair. Beneath it, he wore only a simple tunic—practical, unadorned, yet somehow making him appear no less regal.

Yunho’s eyes flickered to the silver chain around his father’s neck. A wolf’s head, carved from dark metal, rested against his chest. The sapphire embedded in its eye shimmered under the pale glow of the moon filtering through the frosted window. His mother had made that necklace for him long ago, a rare personal gift from a woman who loved grand gestures.

His father caught Yunho staring but said nothing. Instead, he straightened, his expression returning to its usual unreadable calm.

“I need you to be on your best behavior,” he said. His voice was steady, firm—but not unkind.

Yunho nodded immediately. He had never needed reminders of how to behave. Still, the fact that his father was saying this now meant that Aeros was… different.

Different enough to warrant caution.

The winds howled over the snow-covered cliffs, sweeping through the frozen expanse where Reed and Aeros met. Yunho stood beside his parents at the border, wrapped in a thick fur-lined cloak. His breath formed pale clouds in the cold air, but he barely noticed. His sharp eyes were fixed on the sky.

Aeros had arrived.

A fleet of floating carriages, pulled by massive winged beasts, glided down with effortless grace. Dark shapes emerged from the clouds first—winged, powerful, gliding with effortless grace through the cold wind. Then, the sun caught them, revealing massive dragons in deep shades of blue and gold, their scales gleaming under the pale winter light. The creatures flapped their immense wings once before landing with a soft crunch against the frost-covered ground. The banners of Aeros, light blue and gold, rippled in the wind.

Yunho held his ground as the beasts landed, snow billowing from the force of their arrival. The dragons’ breath steamed against the freezing air, their massive chests rising and falling in sync. Gold-plated saddles gleamed along their backs, carrying the figures of Aerosian royals and their guards.

The moment the first carriage door opened, King Aldric stepped forward. He did not hesitate, did not pause to study his guests. As soon as King Hadrian of Aeros emerged, the two men met at the center of the clearing.

The difference between them was stark.

Aldric, wrapped in winter’s quiet authority, carried himself with measured strength. His posture was firm, unyielding, his silver-grey gaze unreadable beneath the heavy weight of the cold.

Hadrian was his opposite. Dressed in flowing layers that moved with the breeze, he had an air of effortless confidence. His golden hair was windswept, his sky-blue eyes holding an easy warmth that did not match the frozen ground beneath his feet.

They clasped hands firmly—A moment of silent understanding passed between them. Then, a small nod.

The peace held.

Yunho barely had time to process the interaction before movement caught his eye. His mother, Queen Lysandra, had already stepped past his father. Before Yunho could blink, she wrapped the Queen of Aeros in a firm embrace.

"Lysandra!" Queen Evelyne’s voice was bright with laughter as she returned the hug. "It has been far too long!"

"Far too long," his mother agreed, pulling back just enough to study her friend’s face. "Look at you! Still floating through life as if gravity doesn’t apply to you."

Evelyne grinned, her golden curls bouncing as she tilted her head. "And you, still trying to freeze time itself. How does Aldric stand it?"

His mother smirked. "Patience."

Yunho caught it again—the almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his father’s lips.

So their queens were friends. That explained why this meeting felt less like a tense negotiation and more like a long-overdue reunion.

Still, Yunho kept his back straight, his expression composed. He knew better than to assume the visit would remain this lighthearted.

The coat draped over his small frame was clearly too big, its fabric flowing around him with every movement. The crown on his head sat slightly askew, and in all honesty, even the crest resting against his chest hung crookedly, as if everything about him refused to stay in place.

Prince Mingi.

The boy he was expected to befriend.

The grand hall of Reed’s castle was a fortress against the winter’s bite, warmed by roaring hearths and the steady glow of lanterns. Though the stone walls carried the weight of history, tonight, they stood witness to something far more personal—the meeting of two kingdoms, of two kings, of two sons.

King Aldric spoke first. “Welcome to Reed. I expect the journey was not too harsh?” His voice was steady, unshaken by the cold winds that whistled through the cliffs.

Hadrian chuckled, adjusting the leather gloves on his hands. “Not at all. A little ice never frightened an Aerosian.” He cast a glance at his son. “Mingi enjoyed himself, didn’t you?”

Mingi grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “The winds were rough, but nothing too bad.” He turned to Yunho, his eyes glinting with a playful edge. “The skies were beautiful up there. Have you ever flown that high before?”

Yunho met his gaze evenly. “Reed’s winds do not welcome careless flying.” His tone was polite, but firm. He had learned from his father that words did not need to be sharp to cut.

Mingi blinked, then let out a small chuckle. “So, no then.”

King Aldric gestured between them. “My son, Prince Yunho.” His eyes flickered toward the boy standing beside Hadrian. “And this is your son?”

Hadrian rested a hand on Mingi’s shoulder. “Prince Mingi.” He grinned slightly. “Restless, as I warned.”

“Unruly,” Aldric responded dryly.

Hadrian laughed. “Aeros does not raise silent sons.”

Yunho stole a glance at his father, noting the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. It disappeared as quickly as it came.

Evelyne sighed dramatically. “Let’s hope this visit does not end in a diplomatic disaster.”

Lysandra smirked. “With boys, that is always a risk.”

As their fathers disappeared behind heavy doors, diving into matters of state, and their mothers settled into quiet conversation by the hearth, Yunho found himself in an entirely different battle.

He was left alone with Prince Mingi.

And Mingi could talk.

“Oh, wow, the halls here are huge. Are they all like this? I thought Reed would be more—oh, I don’t know—compact? Maybe because of the cold? But no, everything’s just tall, and sharp, and dramatic. Actually, that fits. You guys are kind of dramatic, in a cold, quiet way—hey, do you actually like it here? Don’t you get bored? No offense, but everything is just so still.”

Yunho blinked.

Mingi was still talking.

“Back home, there’s always something moving, you know? The islands shift, the winds shift, people shift—like, we’re never just still. Even the air’s different. Here, it’s thick, like it’s trying to slow me down. But maybe that’s just me. Anyway, what do you do for fun?”

Yunho finally found an opening. “…Fun?”

“Yes, fun! You do know what that is, right?”

Yunho stared at him blankly.

Mingi let out a groan, slumping forward dramatically. “Oh, this is going to be harder than I thought.”

Yunho had never met anyone who talked more than his mother. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or exhausted.

And yet, despite himself, he found that he didn’t mind it. Mingi talked enough for the both of them, and Yunho, a boy of few words, found it oddly… convenient. He didn’t have to fill the silence. He didn’t have to search for the right thing to say. He could just listen.

And strangely, he found himself replying more than he expected.

By the time the evening stretched on, Yunho had led Mingi through the halls, past the towering windows where the frost clung thickly to the glass, down to the practice grounds where the snow had been cleared, and to the stables where their dragons were resting from the long flight.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” Mingi said, running a hand along the dark scales of his dragon’s snout. “Your home is pretty cool.”

Yunho raised a brow. “You thought it wouldn’t be?”

Mingi grinned. “Not cool like cold—cool like… cool.” He turned to him, eyes glinting mischievously. “You know, you’re not bad either, Prince Yunho.”

Yunho regarded him for a moment, then exhaled softly. “Neither are you… Prince Mingi.”

Mingi threw an arm around his shoulder. “Ah, see? We’re already getting along.”

Yunho sighed, but didn’t pull away.

The days that followed passed in a quiet blur.

Despite their differences, Yunho found himself constantly in Mingi’s company. Wherever he went, the Aerosian prince followed—talking, questioning, dragging him into conversations he never intended to have. The stillness of Reed had never been so thoroughly disrupted.

Mingi had a habit of filling every quiet moment with words, and Yunho, to his own surprise, had grown accustomed to it. He didn’t always reply, but Mingi never seemed to mind. Sometimes, Yunho caught himself answering before he even realized it.

And now, the visit was nearing its end.

But Mingi had never been one to sit still, and certainly not on his last night in Reed. Which was exactly why Mingi had no hesitation in roping Yunho into one of his infamous schemes.

“Come on,” he urged, nudging Yunho’s arm. “One last adventure before I leave.”

Yunho gave him a flat look. “It’s dinner soon.”

“Exactly! That’s why we need to do something before we get stuck at the table listening to the adults talk about taxes and treaties.” Mingi’s grin was all trouble, eyes alight with mischief. “We should do something memorable.”

Yunho’s gaze flickered toward him warily. He had learned by now that Mingi’s idea of "memorable" often meant something reckless. “Like what?”

Mingi hummed in exaggerated thought, tapping his chin before snapping his fingers. “Let’s swap the dinner menu.”

Yunho stopped walking. He turned his head slowly, staring. “…What?”

Mingi leaned in, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Think about it. Every meal has been exactly the same. Stiff, formal, perfectly arranged—just like you.” His smirk deepened. “Let’s shake things up. We’ll swap out the dishes for something fun.”

“That is not how royal dinners work.”

Mingi shrugged, rocking back on his heels. “Who says? You’re a prince. I’m a prince. We have some say in this, don’t we?”

Yunho’s jaw tightened. It was ridiculous. It was unnecessary. It was—

His steps slowed.

For a moment, he let himself consider it.

The meals in Reed were orderly, structured. Every dish prepared with precision, every course placed with meticulous care. A reflection of the kingdom itself. A reflection of him.

And yet, as he thought about it, something itched at the back of his mind. A memory of the way Mingi had laughed freely over meals, of how, even in the cold halls of Reed, his presence had felt like movement, like something warm pressing against the stillness.

Yunho exhaled, rubbing his fingers against his temple. This was absurd. He would regret it.

“…Fine.”

Mingi nearly jumped in place. “I knew there was a troublemaker somewhere in you. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

Yunho barely had time to regret his decision before Mingi grabbed his wrist and tugged him along, weaving through the halls of Reed’s castle with practiced ease. Yunho could only assume that Mingi had memorized the layout better than he had intended—or more likely, had spent the past few days sneaking around where he shouldn’t.

By the time they slipped into the kitchen, Yunho’s pulse had settled into something steady, almost expectant. The kitchen was warm, a sharp contrast to the cold stone corridors outside. The scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread filled the air, but the kitchen staff barely spared them a glance. Whether it was because they were too busy or because they knew better than to question princes, Yunho wasn’t sure.

Mingi didn’t hesitate. He strode forward, surveying the counters filled with carefully plated dishes. “Alright,” he said, spinning to face Yunho, “what’s Reed’s best dish?”

Yunho blinked, immediately recalling the structured courses of a formal dinner—rich venison stews, carefully layered fish dishes, roasted meats arranged with mathematical precision. Everything had an order, a process, a reason.

Mingi groaned before Yunho could answer. “Forget it. I can already tell you’re about to say something boring. Let’s make it fun.” He grabbed the labels.

Mingi’s grin widened as he grabbed a quill and dipped it in ink. “Since Reed is cold, what if we swapped the royal food orders and made dessert the main course?”

Yunho stared at him. The idea was absurd—an outright disruption of the structured balance that defined Reed’s traditions. And yet… it was amusing. More than that, it was tempting.

Mingi arched a brow, waiting for Yunho’s rejection, for the stiff prince to dismiss him with the same practiced formality he had done countless times before. But instead, Yunho found himself exhaling a quiet chuckle.

He reached for the parchment.

Mingi nearly dropped the quill in shock before hastily shoving it into Yunho’s hand. “Now you’re getting it,” he whispered excitedly, watching as Yunho carefully copied the course order in his neat, measured script—only now, warm honeyed pastries, fruit tarts, and ice sorbets sat where roasted meats and spiced stews should have been.

They slipped the parchment back into place. The deed was done.

The boys barely made it out before the head chef returned, his voice rising into a furious string of curses.

“Who keeps changing the royal food orders mere HOURS before the dinner?!” The man’s bellow carried through the halls, followed by the frantic clatter of pots and chopping knives.

Yunho and Mingi ducked behind a stone column, listening as the kitchen erupted into controlled chaos. The staff scrambled to adjust, barking orders to one another as the revised list was set into motion.

Mingi clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, his shoulders trembling. Yunho, still pressed against the cold stone, felt his pulse hammering in his throat. It was reckless. It was utterly improper.

And yet—

A slow, unfamiliar warmth curled in his chest.

He glanced at Mingi, whose eyes sparkled with unrestrained glee, and something about the moment made Yunho want to hold onto it just a little longer.

For once, he wasn’t just the son of King Aldric.

He was simply a boy, caught in a moment of foolish rebellion with his newfound friend.

The dining hall was filled with the low hum of conversation as nobles and esteemed guests settled into their seats. Yunho, now dressed in formal attire, still found himself chuckling softly with Mingi as they made their way to the long banquet table. The lingering amusement from their mischief clung to him, making him feel strangely weightless despite the usual stiffness of royal gatherings.

The first course was served—something normal, a light broth with freshly baked bread. The dinner proceeded as expected, conversations flowing, goblets filled, and the warmth of candlelight flickering across the polished silverware.

Then, the main course arrived.

The grand trays were uncovered, revealing delicate honeyed pastries, layered fruit tarts, and elegantly sculpted ice sorbets, their frosted surfaces glistening under the candlelight. Chilled berry soufflés and spiced snowdrift puddings sat alongside plates of frozen cream drizzled with syrup, each dish a vision of winter’s embrace. A ripple of confusion passed through the room. Murmurs started, nobles exchanging bewildered glances as a meal of decadence and cold sweetness took the place of the expected rich meats and hearty stews.

Across the table, Yunho and Mingi stifled their laughter—until Yunho made the mistake of looking up.

His father’s gaze was fixed on him, cold and hard, cutting through the flickering candlelight like a blade of ice.

Yunho swallowed, his amusement dying in an instant. He straightened in his chair, forcing his expression into neutrality.

Sensing the shift in mood, his mother, Queen Lysandra, quickly stepped in, offering a graceful smile. “We enjoy the cold,” she said smoothly, lifting a delicate fork to her plate. “So it is only fitting that we have dessert as our main course.”

A pause.

Then, to Yunho’s relief, laughter broke the tension—first from Queen Evelyne, who clapped her hands together, and then from King Hadrian, whose booming chuckle filled the hall.

“Well,” Hadrian mused, lifting a spoonful of custard, “Aerosians do love a little chaos at the table.”

Mingi beamed, nudging Yunho under the table as if to say, See? That wasn’t so bad.

But Yunho wasn’t sure whether he had truly escaped unscathed. His father had yet to say a word.

Even as dinner continued, Yunho was shaking in his seat. He barely touched his plate, his appetite drowned by the weight of his father’s gaze. Every so often, he stole subtle glances in his direction, but even in the midst of his discussion with King Hadrian, Aldric’s eyes never truly left him. It was a silent warning, a cold pressure that settled over Yunho’s shoulders like the frost outside the castle walls.

By the time the meal drew to a close, Yunho felt the tension in his chest tighten. The royal family of Aeros had retired for the night, preparing for their long journey home at dawn. The nobles slowly trickled out of the hall, laughter and conversation fading into the distance. Yunho had just started to rise from his chair when his father’s voice cut through the air like ice.

“Yunho. Come with me.”

Yunho stiffened. His fingers clenched around the fabric of his tunic before he quickly let go, willing himself to move.

Before he could take a step, his mother spoke up, her voice gentle yet firm. “Aldric, don’t be so hard on him.”

Her words lingered between them, a soft plea against the unyielding cold. But Yunho knew better than to hope for leniency. His father did not raise silent sons, but neither did he raise careless ones.

The halls of Reed’s castle had always been cold, but tonight, the chill seeped into Yunho’s bones in a way that had nothing to do with the weather outside. His legs felt stiff as he walked, his usually steady pace disrupted by the weight pressing against his chest. The silence between him and his father was thick, stretching unbearably with each step toward the study. Every footfall echoed, ringing loud in Yunho’s ears, but even louder was the sound of his own heartbeat, thudding relentlessly against his ribs.

The bile in his throat rose each time he tried to swallow it down. He had never feared his father before—not truly. King Aldric was not cruel. He did not shout, nor did he strike. His discipline was ice, not fire—measured, controlled, and absolute. But for the first time, Yunho wondered if tonight would be different. If the king would finally break his cold exterior and raise his voice.

They reached the heavy wooden doors of the study. Aldric pushed them open without a word, stepping inside first. Yunho followed, his fingers twitching at his sides as he crossed the threshold. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows along the stone walls. Stacks of parchment lay neatly on the desk, the faint scent of ink and parchment mingling with the ever-present chill of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Yunho stood frozen, his gaze fixed downward, unwilling to meet his father’s eyes. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if bracing himself for whatever punishment was to come. He could feel the weight of his father’s stare—heavy, unreadable, and utterly suffocating.

Then, cutting through the silence, he heard something unexpected.

A laugh.

Deep, quiet, and unmistakably amused.

Yunho’s head snapped up in disbelief.

King Aldric was laughing. Not the sharp, humorless exhale Yunho had heard in court, nor the rare amused huff he sometimes allowed when Yunho’s mother made a particularly ridiculous joke. No, this was different—low and rumbling, as if he were holding back.

Yunho remained stiff, unable to process what he was witnessing. His father—Reed’s cold and unshakable king—stood with one hand resting on his desk, his shoulders slightly shaking, his navy cloak barely settled from where he had tossed it aside. His piercing gaze, usually so controlled, flickered with something unreadable.

"You switched the royal menu," Aldric finally said, his voice still carrying a trace of laughter.

Yunho swallowed. "Yes, Father."

"And you thought no one would notice?"

Yunho hesitated, glancing toward the floor again. He had thought about arguing, about explaining that technically, it had still been a proper meal, just in an unusual order. But that line of defense felt laughable now.

"I—" He bit his tongue, realizing there was no reasonable excuse.

Aldric regarded him for a long moment, then, to Yunho’s utter shock, the corners of his lips twitched. "It was amusing, my son."

Yunho’s eyes snapped up, searching his father’s face for any sign of deception. But there was none. The words were spoken with a rare, fleeting warmth—gone as quickly as they had come.

His father did not laugh again, nor did he offer any further praise. But somehow, that single sentence felt heavier than any reprimand. Aldric exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and for a split second, Yunho tensed. But instead of scolding him, his father merely placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"You are my son," Aldric murmured. "Not once have I ever doubted that."

Yunho blinked, confused by the shift in tone.

"But Reed is not Aeros," his father continued. "We do not act on whimsy. We do not indulge in reckless amusements. You will be king one day, and kings do not play." His grip tightened, not painfully, but firmly enough that Yunho felt the weight of every word. "You are free to find humor, but never forget your duty."

Yunho nodded automatically, but Aldric did not release him.

"You do not fear me, do you?"

The question caught him off guard. Yunho's lips parted slightly before he forced them shut. His father had never asked something like that before.

"I respect you," Yunho answered carefully.

Aldric's expression did not change, but Yunho thought he saw something in his gaze—something softer, deeper, just for a moment.

"Good," his father said at last, stepping back. "Then be worthy of that respect."

Yunho straightened his back. "Yes, Father."

The king studied him for a moment longer before turning toward his desk. "Go to bed. It’s late."

Yunho hesitated before bowing his head. He turned to leave, pausing briefly at the door. For a moment, he thought about saying something more—something about how Mingi had convinced him, or how he hadn’t meant any real harm. But the words felt unnecessary.

Instead, he simply murmured, "Goodnight, Father."

King Aldric did not look up from his papers, but Yunho caught the faintest dip of his head, acknowledging him.

And for the first time that night, Yunho let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Spin-Off Masterlist | New World Masterlist

eighteen | CURRENT | nineteen

a/n: finally the long awaied spin off is here! this is the second side tale i've wrote for the kings. a little background of yunho's family and why he is so attentive. i think mingi and yunho have such a good relationship in real life so i implemented here. plus the story is really funny to write, and his mother is just such a sweetheart (y/n reminds him of his mother). i think its such an eye opener on why yunho is such a sweet kid in this story. and grew up to be such a mature man even though he is quite strict and cold.

taglist (open.): @huachengsbestie01 @awkward-fucking-thing @sleepybluesworld @Deliciousloverwhispers @huachengsbestie01 @hrtfem @kandy108 @sousydive @skychapt-blog @moarmycaratiny @juicyjaxxy @atinyapple1117 @woosmaid @soulphoenix1618 @green-moon @yukisroom97 @kibs-and-bits

new world permanent taglist:

@pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchlingdumplingsyum @caratiny-latte @seongwars @halloweenbyphoebebridgers @angelqueendom

@ffenjoyerdazme @lostxxgirl @xh01bri @neemaxx @furfoxsake22 @Thejentheredhead @soulphoenix1618 @pixie0627

I swear upon my name, my blood, and the mark I bear. As the crown rests upon me, I am no longer my own, but a vessel of my people, a guardian of my land, and a keeper of Hala. My wings shall shield, my voice shall guide, and my hands shall build a legacy worthy of those before me. From this day forth, I am not prince, but a king. And as king, I shall serve, until the winds carry me home

A side tale of the Kings in New World.

⋆༺𓆩 𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈 𓆪༻⋆

who am i to say what any of this means? i have been sleepwalkin' since i was fourteen now as I write my song, i retrace my steps honestly it’s easier to let myself forget

nine by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The tryant.

Word Count: in writing.

Warnings: in writing.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𓆪༻⋆

Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you with everySingle thing I have

two by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The remedy.

Word Count: in writing.

Warnings: in writing.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐 𓆪༻⋆

'cause in this city's barren cold i still remember the first fall of snow and how it glistened as it fell i remember it all too well

all to well by taylor swift

Synopsis: The warmth.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: This story contains themes of instances of intense pressure of royal expectations, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[READ HERE]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑲𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𓆪༻⋆

i remember the minute it was like a switch was flipped i was just a kid who grew up strong enough to pick this armor up and suddenly it fit

eight by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The steel.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: This story contains themes of loss, hardship, grief/death, emotional and physical trauma, graphic depictions of injury, portrayal of violence and the intense pressure of royal expectations, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒏 𓆪༻⋆

in this game of hide and seek i can’t help but think that ordinary has swallowed the key bodies fashioned out of dirt and dust for a moment we get to be glorious

four by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The heir.

Word Count: in writing.

Warnings: in writing.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊 𓆪༻⋆

Awake in the sky We break up so high, alright Let's make it our own, Let's savor it

where no one goes by john powell and jónsi

Synopsis: The free.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: This story contains themes of endangerment (mingi falling of a dragon), near-death experiences, hypothermia and survival, depictions of injury and first aid, peril involving falling from heights, animal injury, and the intense weight of royal expectation, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈 𓆪༻⋆

i aim my arrow, i'll dedicate all of this eternal flame to you i aim my arrow, i'll give you all of this moment that will never fade

sagittarius by wooyoung

Synopsis: The fire.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: This story contains themes of the heavy weight of royal duty, emotional expectations from family and faith, and depictions of overwhelming responsibility, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[SOON…]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐 𓆪༻⋆

i want to sing a song worth singing, i’ll write an anthem worth repeating, I want to feel the transformation, the melody of reformation.

one by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The pet.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: This story contains themes of loss, starvation, political corruption, hardship, grief/death, emotional and physical trauma, graphic depictions of injury, portrayal of violence and the intense pressure of royal expectations, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[...]

a/n: I originally planned to create a mood board for each kingdom, but I felt this idea was stronger since New World won’t explore much of their past growth. I hope you enjoy this, my stars. i'm looking forward to your feedback and theories, my loves. please do reach out on my ask away section.

taglist (open.): @huachengsbestie01 @awkward-fucking-thing @sleepybluesworld @Deliciousloverwhispers @huachengsbestie01 @hrtfem @kandy108 @sousydive @skychapt-blog @moarmycaratiny @juicyjaxxy @atinyapple1117 @woosmaid @soulphoenix1618 @green-moon @yukisroom97 @kibs-and-bits

new world permanent taglist:

@pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchlingdumplingsyum @caratiny-latte @seongwars @halloweenbyphoebebridgers @angelqueendom

@ffenjoyerdazme @lostxxgirl @xh01bri @neemaxx @furfoxsake22 @Thejentheredhead @soulphoenix1618 @pixie0627

I swear upon my name, my blood, and the mark I bear. As the crown rests upon me, I am no longer my own, but a vessel of my people, a guardian of my land, and a keeper of Hala. My wings shall shield, my voice shall guide, and my hands shall build a legacy worthy of those before me. From this day forth, I am not prince, but a king. And as king, I shall serve, until the winds carry me home

A side tale of the Kings in New World.

⋆༺𓆩 𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈 𓆪༻⋆

who am i to say what any of this means? i have been sleepwalkin' since i was fourteen now as I write my song, i retrace my steps honestly it’s easier to let myself forget

nine by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The tryant.

Word Count: in writing.

Warnings: in writing.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𓆪༻⋆

Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you with everySingle thing I have

two by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The remedy.

Word Count: in writing.

Warnings: in writing.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐 𓆪༻⋆

'cause in this city's barren cold i still remember the first fall of snow and how it glistened as it fell i remember it all too well

all to well by taylor swift

Synopsis: The warmth.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: This story contains themes of instances of intense pressure of royal expectations, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[READ HERE]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑲𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𓆪༻⋆

i remember the minute it was like a switch was flipped i was just a kid who grew up strong enough to pick this armor up and suddenly it fit

eight by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The steel.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: This story contains themes of loss, hardship, grief/death, emotional and physical trauma, graphic depictions of injury, portrayal of violence and the intense pressure of royal expectations, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒏 𓆪༻⋆

in this game of hide and seek i can’t help but think that ordinary has swallowed the key bodies fashioned out of dirt and dust for a moment we get to be glorious

four by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The heir.

Word Count: in writing.

Warnings: in writing.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊 𓆪༻⋆

Awake in the sky We break up so high, alright Let's make it our own, Let's savor it

where no one goes by john powell and jónsi

Synopsis: The free.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: This story contains themes of endangerment (mingi falling of a dragon), near-death experiences, hypothermia and survival, depictions of injury and first aid, peril involving falling from heights, animal injury, and the intense weight of royal expectation, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈 𓆪༻⋆

i aim my arrow, i'll dedicate all of this eternal flame to you i aim my arrow, i'll give you all of this moment that will never fade

sagittarius by wooyoung

Synopsis: The fire.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: This story contains themes of the heavy weight of royal duty, emotional expectations from family and faith, and depictions of overwhelming responsibility, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[SOON…]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐 𓆪༻⋆

i want to sing a song worth singing, i’ll write an anthem worth repeating, I want to feel the transformation, the melody of reformation.

one by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The pet.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: This story contains themes of loss, starvation, political corruption, hardship, grief/death, emotional and physical trauma, graphic depictions of injury, portrayal of violence and the intense pressure of royal expectations, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[...]

a/n: I originally planned to create a mood board for each kingdom, but I felt this idea was stronger since New World won’t explore much of their past growth. I hope you enjoy this, my stars. i'm looking forward to your feedback and theories, my loves. please do reach out on my ask away section.

taglist (open.): @huachengsbestie01 @awkward-fucking-thing @sleepybluesworld @Deliciousloverwhispers @huachengsbestie01 @hrtfem @kandy108 @sousydive @skychapt-blog @moarmycaratiny @juicyjaxxy @atinyapple1117 @woosmaid @soulphoenix1618 @green-moon @yukisroom97 @kibs-and-bits

new world permanent taglist:

@pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchlingdumplingsyum @caratiny-latte @seongwars @halloweenbyphoebebridgers @angelqueendom

@ffenjoyerdazme @lostxxgirl @xh01bri @neemaxx @furfoxsake22 @Thejentheredhead @soulphoenix1618 @pixie0627

A side tale of His Majesty King Yunho, the sovereign ruler of Reed from the New World.

Warnings: This story contains themes of instances of psychological and emotional distress, and intense pressure of royal expectations, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

All the events written are fictional. Everything you read are a product of ©leirastar 's imagination. In no way shape or form do i think the characters personality reflect the real person. please don't hate those inspirations.

Reed was always quiet. Snow blanketed the land, muffling sound, and the sea beyond its icy cliffs whispered rather than roared. It had always been this way—calm, steady, enduring. And so was its young prince.

At twelve, Yunho already carried the stillness of his kingdom. He was not the kind of boy to chatter or rush ahead. He walked through the halls of his home with quiet steps, listening more than speaking. His father once told him that a ruler must be like the ice—strong, unyielding, and steady enough to hold the weight of those who relied on him.

His father was a man of few words. His presence alone was enough to command the room, and his gaze, sharp as a blade, often left others stiff and cautious. The people of Reed respected him, even feared him. He ruled with a kind of discipline that left little room for warmth.

But Yunho never feared his father.

It wasn’t that the king was kind—not in the way his mother was, with soft words and gentle hands—but he had never been cruel. His love was not something given freely but shown in ways most wouldn’t notice. He never raised his voice, but Yunho had always known that when he spoke, it mattered. And when the winter storms raged the hardest, the king would always check the fires in Yunho’s room before retiring for the night.

Even now, Yunho knew that if he ever fell, his father’s hand would be the one to pull him back up.

Though Reed’s lands were frozen, its palace never was. His home was proof of that. The fires were always burning, and love—though not loud—was always present.

So the cold never reached the dining hall of the royal palace. Though Reed was a land of ice and silence, the long wooden table where the royal family dined was always warm, the golden glow of candlelight flickering against the frost-covered windows.

Yunho sat in his usual place, across from his father and beside his mother, the quiet hum of supper filling the space. The clinking of silverware, the occasional crackle of firewood—it was peaceful, the kind of silence Yunho had grown to understand.

His mother, the Queen, was the only one who would truly disrupted it.

She talked. A lot.

“…and then I told the steward that if he ever let the kitchen run out of spiced wine again, I would personally drag him to the market myself! Can you imagine, Aldric? A winter feast without spiced wine? Unthinkable!”

Yunho listened, like he always did. His mother’s words flowed like a gentle stream, warm and endless. She talked about the servants, about the state of the marketplace, about the latest gossip among the noblewomen. None of it was particularly important, but it filled the space in a way that made their home feel… alive.

It was because of her that Yunho had learned to listen. Not just to words, but to the things left unsaid—the way voices shifted, the meaning behind pauses.

And because he listened, he noticed things.

Like the way his father always sat with his hands folded neatly over the table, barely speaking unless necessary. Or the way he never interrupted his wife’s ramblings, even when she exaggerated her stories.

And most of all, Yunho noticed the small, nearly invisible smile that would tug at the corner of the king’s lips whenever the queen made a joke.

His father never laughed outright, never shook with mirth the way others did. But there was always that subtle curve to his mouth, the way his eyes softened ever so slightly.

No one else ever seemed to catch it.

But Yunho did.

“…and then, oh, you should have seen his face when I told him the cat had eaten half the pastries before they even made it to the banquet hall! I thought he would faint right then and there!”

Silence. A long pause. Then—

A quiet exhale from the king. Not quite a laugh. But something close.

Yunho felt something warm settle in his chest.

This was what people outside of Reed didn’t understand. They thought of his father as cold, untouchable. But Yunho knew better. He saw the small things—the way his father checked the windows in their rooms at night, adjusted the blanket when they were asleep, the way he always walked beside them on icy paths, ensuring neither he nor his mother would slip.

Love didn’t have to be loud.

It could be silent, like falling snow.

And as Yunho picked up his cup of warm cider, listening to his mother’s next story, he thought that perhaps, in this small, quiet way, he was just like his father.

That night, after dinner, Yunho sat in the study with his father. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the fireplace casting long shadows against the stone walls. His father sat across from him, silent as always, reading over a letter sealed with an unfamiliar crest.

Yunho waited. He had learned from his father that silence always came before something important.

Finally, the king set the letter down. His sharp gaze met Yunho’s.

“Aeros will be visiting,” he said simply.

Yunho blinked. Aeros—the kingdom of the sky. The one that never stayed still. Unlike Reed, where discipline and order shaped daily life, Aeros was not known for its structure. Its people were free-spirited, drifting like the winds they lived upon.

“Why?” he asked.

His father leaned back slightly. “The Pact of the Eight Seals is still new. Bonds must be built, even among those who are… different.”

It had only been a short time since the Pact of the Eight Seals was signed, a fragile peace forming between the kingdoms. As a gesture of goodwill, Reed had invited a delegation from Aeros.

Yunho understood. He had heard enough political talk at court to know that peace did not come from words alone. It had to be maintained, strengthened. Even if it meant welcoming the wind into the land of ice.

His father studied him for a moment, as if gauging his thoughts. “Their prince is your age.”

Yunho wasn’t sure if that was meant to reassure him. If anything, it only raised more questions.

“…What is he like?”

King Aldric exhaled, glancing at the letter once more. “Restless.” A pause. Then, a faint, almost amused glint in his eyes. “You will see soon enough.”

He stood from his chair, reaching for the clasp of his heavy navy cloak. With a practiced motion, he unfastened it, letting the thick fabric slide off his shoulders before draping it over the chair. Beneath it, he wore only a simple tunic—practical, unadorned, yet somehow making him appear no less regal.

Yunho’s eyes flickered to the silver chain around his father’s neck. A wolf’s head, carved from dark metal, rested against his chest. The sapphire embedded in its eye shimmered under the pale glow of the moon filtering through the frosted window. His mother had made that necklace for him long ago, a rare personal gift from a woman who loved grand gestures.

His father caught Yunho staring but said nothing. Instead, he straightened, his expression returning to its usual unreadable calm.

“I need you to be on your best behavior,” he said. His voice was steady, firm—but not unkind.

Yunho nodded immediately. He had never needed reminders of how to behave. Still, the fact that his father was saying this now meant that Aeros was… different.

Different enough to warrant caution.

The winds howled over the snow-covered cliffs, sweeping through the frozen expanse where Reed and Aeros met. Yunho stood beside his parents at the border, wrapped in a thick fur-lined cloak. His breath formed pale clouds in the cold air, but he barely noticed. His sharp eyes were fixed on the sky.

Aeros had arrived.

A fleet of floating carriages, pulled by massive winged beasts, glided down with effortless grace. Dark shapes emerged from the clouds first—winged, powerful, gliding with effortless grace through the cold wind. Then, the sun caught them, revealing massive dragons in deep shades of blue and gold, their scales gleaming under the pale winter light. The creatures flapped their immense wings once before landing with a soft crunch against the frost-covered ground. The banners of Aeros, light blue and gold, rippled in the wind.

Yunho held his ground as the beasts landed, snow billowing from the force of their arrival. The dragons’ breath steamed against the freezing air, their massive chests rising and falling in sync. Gold-plated saddles gleamed along their backs, carrying the figures of Aerosian royals and their guards.

The moment the first carriage door opened, King Aldric stepped forward. He did not hesitate, did not pause to study his guests. As soon as King Hadrian of Aeros emerged, the two men met at the center of the clearing.

The difference between them was stark.

Aldric, wrapped in winter’s quiet authority, carried himself with measured strength. His posture was firm, unyielding, his silver-grey gaze unreadable beneath the heavy weight of the cold.

Hadrian was his opposite. Dressed in flowing layers that moved with the breeze, he had an air of effortless confidence. His golden hair was windswept, his sky-blue eyes holding an easy warmth that did not match the frozen ground beneath his feet.

They clasped hands firmly—A moment of silent understanding passed between them. Then, a small nod.

The peace held.

Yunho barely had time to process the interaction before movement caught his eye. His mother, Queen Lysandra, had already stepped past his father. Before Yunho could blink, she wrapped the Queen of Aeros in a firm embrace.

"Lysandra!" Queen Evelyne’s voice was bright with laughter as she returned the hug. "It has been far too long!"

"Far too long," his mother agreed, pulling back just enough to study her friend’s face. "Look at you! Still floating through life as if gravity doesn’t apply to you."

Evelyne grinned, her golden curls bouncing as she tilted her head. "And you, still trying to freeze time itself. How does Aldric stand it?"

His mother smirked. "Patience."

Yunho caught it again—the almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his father’s lips.

So their queens were friends. That explained why this meeting felt less like a tense negotiation and more like a long-overdue reunion.

Still, Yunho kept his back straight, his expression composed. He knew better than to assume the visit would remain this lighthearted.

The coat draped over his small frame was clearly too big, its fabric flowing around him with every movement. The crown on his head sat slightly askew, and in all honesty, even the crest resting against his chest hung crookedly, as if everything about him refused to stay in place.

Prince Mingi.

The boy he was expected to befriend.

The grand hall of Reed’s castle was a fortress against the winter’s bite, warmed by roaring hearths and the steady glow of lanterns. Though the stone walls carried the weight of history, tonight, they stood witness to something far more personal—the meeting of two kingdoms, of two kings, of two sons.

King Aldric spoke first. “Welcome to Reed. I expect the journey was not too harsh?” His voice was steady, unshaken by the cold winds that whistled through the cliffs.

Hadrian chuckled, adjusting the leather gloves on his hands. “Not at all. A little ice never frightened an Aerosian.” He cast a glance at his son. “Mingi enjoyed himself, didn’t you?”

Mingi grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “The winds were rough, but nothing too bad.” He turned to Yunho, his eyes glinting with a playful edge. “The skies were beautiful up there. Have you ever flown that high before?”

Yunho met his gaze evenly. “Reed’s winds do not welcome careless flying.” His tone was polite, but firm. He had learned from his father that words did not need to be sharp to cut.

Mingi blinked, then let out a small chuckle. “So, no then.”

King Aldric gestured between them. “My son, Prince Yunho.” His eyes flickered toward the boy standing beside Hadrian. “And this is your son?”

Hadrian rested a hand on Mingi’s shoulder. “Prince Mingi.” He grinned slightly. “Restless, as I warned.”

“Unruly,” Aldric responded dryly.

Hadrian laughed. “Aeros does not raise silent sons.”

Yunho stole a glance at his father, noting the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. It disappeared as quickly as it came.

Evelyne sighed dramatically. “Let’s hope this visit does not end in a diplomatic disaster.”

Lysandra smirked. “With boys, that is always a risk.”

As their fathers disappeared behind heavy doors, diving into matters of state, and their mothers settled into quiet conversation by the hearth, Yunho found himself in an entirely different battle.

He was left alone with Prince Mingi.

And Mingi could talk.

“Oh, wow, the halls here are huge. Are they all like this? I thought Reed would be more—oh, I don’t know—compact? Maybe because of the cold? But no, everything’s just tall, and sharp, and dramatic. Actually, that fits. You guys are kind of dramatic, in a cold, quiet way—hey, do you actually like it here? Don’t you get bored? No offense, but everything is just so still.”

Yunho blinked.

Mingi was still talking.

“Back home, there’s always something moving, you know? The islands shift, the winds shift, people shift—like, we’re never just still. Even the air’s different. Here, it’s thick, like it’s trying to slow me down. But maybe that’s just me. Anyway, what do you do for fun?”

Yunho finally found an opening. “…Fun?”

“Yes, fun! You do know what that is, right?”

Yunho stared at him blankly.

Mingi let out a groan, slumping forward dramatically. “Oh, this is going to be harder than I thought.”

Yunho had never met anyone who talked more than his mother. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or exhausted.

And yet, despite himself, he found that he didn’t mind it. Mingi talked enough for the both of them, and Yunho, a boy of few words, found it oddly… convenient. He didn’t have to fill the silence. He didn’t have to search for the right thing to say. He could just listen.

And strangely, he found himself replying more than he expected.

By the time the evening stretched on, Yunho had led Mingi through the halls, past the towering windows where the frost clung thickly to the glass, down to the practice grounds where the snow had been cleared, and to the stables where their dragons were resting from the long flight.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” Mingi said, running a hand along the dark scales of his dragon’s snout. “Your home is pretty cool.”

Yunho raised a brow. “You thought it wouldn’t be?”

Mingi grinned. “Not cool like cold—cool like… cool.” He turned to him, eyes glinting mischievously. “You know, you’re not bad either, Prince Yunho.”

Yunho regarded him for a moment, then exhaled softly. “Neither are you… Prince Mingi.”

Mingi threw an arm around his shoulder. “Ah, see? We’re already getting along.”

Yunho sighed, but didn’t pull away.

The days that followed passed in a quiet blur.

Despite their differences, Yunho found himself constantly in Mingi’s company. Wherever he went, the Aerosian prince followed—talking, questioning, dragging him into conversations he never intended to have. The stillness of Reed had never been so thoroughly disrupted.

Mingi had a habit of filling every quiet moment with words, and Yunho, to his own surprise, had grown accustomed to it. He didn’t always reply, but Mingi never seemed to mind. Sometimes, Yunho caught himself answering before he even realized it.

And now, the visit was nearing its end.

But Mingi had never been one to sit still, and certainly not on his last night in Reed. Which was exactly why Mingi had no hesitation in roping Yunho into one of his infamous schemes.

“Come on,” he urged, nudging Yunho’s arm. “One last adventure before I leave.”

Yunho gave him a flat look. “It’s dinner soon.”

“Exactly! That’s why we need to do something before we get stuck at the table listening to the adults talk about taxes and treaties.” Mingi’s grin was all trouble, eyes alight with mischief. “We should do something memorable.”

Yunho’s gaze flickered toward him warily. He had learned by now that Mingi’s idea of "memorable" often meant something reckless. “Like what?”

Mingi hummed in exaggerated thought, tapping his chin before snapping his fingers. “Let’s swap the dinner menu.”

Yunho stopped walking. He turned his head slowly, staring. “…What?”

Mingi leaned in, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Think about it. Every meal has been exactly the same. Stiff, formal, perfectly arranged—just like you.” His smirk deepened. “Let’s shake things up. We’ll swap out the dishes for something fun.”

“That is not how royal dinners work.”

Mingi shrugged, rocking back on his heels. “Who says? You’re a prince. I’m a prince. We have some say in this, don’t we?”

Yunho’s jaw tightened. It was ridiculous. It was unnecessary. It was—

His steps slowed.

For a moment, he let himself consider it.

The meals in Reed were orderly, structured. Every dish prepared with precision, every course placed with meticulous care. A reflection of the kingdom itself. A reflection of him.

And yet, as he thought about it, something itched at the back of his mind. A memory of the way Mingi had laughed freely over meals, of how, even in the cold halls of Reed, his presence had felt like movement, like something warm pressing against the stillness.

Yunho exhaled, rubbing his fingers against his temple. This was absurd. He would regret it.

“…Fine.”

Mingi nearly jumped in place. “I knew there was a troublemaker somewhere in you. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

Yunho barely had time to regret his decision before Mingi grabbed his wrist and tugged him along, weaving through the halls of Reed’s castle with practiced ease. Yunho could only assume that Mingi had memorized the layout better than he had intended—or more likely, had spent the past few days sneaking around where he shouldn’t.

By the time they slipped into the kitchen, Yunho’s pulse had settled into something steady, almost expectant. The kitchen was warm, a sharp contrast to the cold stone corridors outside. The scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread filled the air, but the kitchen staff barely spared them a glance. Whether it was because they were too busy or because they knew better than to question princes, Yunho wasn’t sure.

Mingi didn’t hesitate. He strode forward, surveying the counters filled with carefully plated dishes. “Alright,” he said, spinning to face Yunho, “what’s Reed’s best dish?”

Yunho blinked, immediately recalling the structured courses of a formal dinner—rich venison stews, carefully layered fish dishes, roasted meats arranged with mathematical precision. Everything had an order, a process, a reason.

Mingi groaned before Yunho could answer. “Forget it. I can already tell you’re about to say something boring. Let’s make it fun.” He grabbed the labels.

Mingi’s grin widened as he grabbed a quill and dipped it in ink. “Since Reed is cold, what if we swapped the royal food orders and made dessert the main course?”

Yunho stared at him. The idea was absurd—an outright disruption of the structured balance that defined Reed’s traditions. And yet… it was amusing. More than that, it was tempting.

Mingi arched a brow, waiting for Yunho’s rejection, for the stiff prince to dismiss him with the same practiced formality he had done countless times before. But instead, Yunho found himself exhaling a quiet chuckle.

He reached for the parchment.

Mingi nearly dropped the quill in shock before hastily shoving it into Yunho’s hand. “Now you’re getting it,” he whispered excitedly, watching as Yunho carefully copied the course order in his neat, measured script—only now, warm honeyed pastries, fruit tarts, and ice sorbets sat where roasted meats and spiced stews should have been.

They slipped the parchment back into place. The deed was done.

The boys barely made it out before the head chef returned, his voice rising into a furious string of curses.

“Who keeps changing the royal food orders mere HOURS before the dinner?!” The man’s bellow carried through the halls, followed by the frantic clatter of pots and chopping knives.

Yunho and Mingi ducked behind a stone column, listening as the kitchen erupted into controlled chaos. The staff scrambled to adjust, barking orders to one another as the revised list was set into motion.

Mingi clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, his shoulders trembling. Yunho, still pressed against the cold stone, felt his pulse hammering in his throat. It was reckless. It was utterly improper.

And yet—

A slow, unfamiliar warmth curled in his chest.

He glanced at Mingi, whose eyes sparkled with unrestrained glee, and something about the moment made Yunho want to hold onto it just a little longer.

For once, he wasn’t just the son of King Aldric.

He was simply a boy, caught in a moment of foolish rebellion with his newfound friend.

The dining hall was filled with the low hum of conversation as nobles and esteemed guests settled into their seats. Yunho, now dressed in formal attire, still found himself chuckling softly with Mingi as they made their way to the long banquet table. The lingering amusement from their mischief clung to him, making him feel strangely weightless despite the usual stiffness of royal gatherings.

The first course was served—something normal, a light broth with freshly baked bread. The dinner proceeded as expected, conversations flowing, goblets filled, and the warmth of candlelight flickering across the polished silverware.

Then, the main course arrived.

The grand trays were uncovered, revealing delicate honeyed pastries, layered fruit tarts, and elegantly sculpted ice sorbets, their frosted surfaces glistening under the candlelight. Chilled berry soufflés and spiced snowdrift puddings sat alongside plates of frozen cream drizzled with syrup, each dish a vision of winter’s embrace. A ripple of confusion passed through the room. Murmurs started, nobles exchanging bewildered glances as a meal of decadence and cold sweetness took the place of the expected rich meats and hearty stews.

Across the table, Yunho and Mingi stifled their laughter—until Yunho made the mistake of looking up.

His father’s gaze was fixed on him, cold and hard, cutting through the flickering candlelight like a blade of ice.

Yunho swallowed, his amusement dying in an instant. He straightened in his chair, forcing his expression into neutrality.

Sensing the shift in mood, his mother, Queen Lysandra, quickly stepped in, offering a graceful smile. “We enjoy the cold,” she said smoothly, lifting a delicate fork to her plate. “So it is only fitting that we have dessert as our main course.”

A pause.

Then, to Yunho’s relief, laughter broke the tension—first from Queen Evelyne, who clapped her hands together, and then from King Hadrian, whose booming chuckle filled the hall.

“Well,” Hadrian mused, lifting a spoonful of custard, “Aerosians do love a little chaos at the table.”

Mingi beamed, nudging Yunho under the table as if to say, See? That wasn’t so bad.

But Yunho wasn’t sure whether he had truly escaped unscathed. His father had yet to say a word.

Even as dinner continued, Yunho was shaking in his seat. He barely touched his plate, his appetite drowned by the weight of his father’s gaze. Every so often, he stole subtle glances in his direction, but even in the midst of his discussion with King Hadrian, Aldric’s eyes never truly left him. It was a silent warning, a cold pressure that settled over Yunho’s shoulders like the frost outside the castle walls.

By the time the meal drew to a close, Yunho felt the tension in his chest tighten. The royal family of Aeros had retired for the night, preparing for their long journey home at dawn. The nobles slowly trickled out of the hall, laughter and conversation fading into the distance. Yunho had just started to rise from his chair when his father’s voice cut through the air like ice.

“Yunho. Come with me.”

Yunho stiffened. His fingers clenched around the fabric of his tunic before he quickly let go, willing himself to move.

Before he could take a step, his mother spoke up, her voice gentle yet firm. “Aldric, don’t be so hard on him.”

Her words lingered between them, a soft plea against the unyielding cold. But Yunho knew better than to hope for leniency. His father did not raise silent sons, but neither did he raise careless ones.

The halls of Reed’s castle had always been cold, but tonight, the chill seeped into Yunho’s bones in a way that had nothing to do with the weather outside. His legs felt stiff as he walked, his usually steady pace disrupted by the weight pressing against his chest. The silence between him and his father was thick, stretching unbearably with each step toward the study. Every footfall echoed, ringing loud in Yunho’s ears, but even louder was the sound of his own heartbeat, thudding relentlessly against his ribs.

The bile in his throat rose each time he tried to swallow it down. He had never feared his father before—not truly. King Aldric was not cruel. He did not shout, nor did he strike. His discipline was ice, not fire—measured, controlled, and absolute. But for the first time, Yunho wondered if tonight would be different. If the king would finally break his cold exterior and raise his voice.

They reached the heavy wooden doors of the study. Aldric pushed them open without a word, stepping inside first. Yunho followed, his fingers twitching at his sides as he crossed the threshold. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows along the stone walls. Stacks of parchment lay neatly on the desk, the faint scent of ink and parchment mingling with the ever-present chill of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Yunho stood frozen, his gaze fixed downward, unwilling to meet his father’s eyes. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if bracing himself for whatever punishment was to come. He could feel the weight of his father’s stare—heavy, unreadable, and utterly suffocating.

Then, cutting through the silence, he heard something unexpected.

A laugh.

Deep, quiet, and unmistakably amused.

Yunho’s head snapped up in disbelief.

King Aldric was laughing. Not the sharp, humorless exhale Yunho had heard in court, nor the rare amused huff he sometimes allowed when Yunho’s mother made a particularly ridiculous joke. No, this was different—low and rumbling, as if he were holding back.

Yunho remained stiff, unable to process what he was witnessing. His father—Reed’s cold and unshakable king—stood with one hand resting on his desk, his shoulders slightly shaking, his navy cloak barely settled from where he had tossed it aside. His piercing gaze, usually so controlled, flickered with something unreadable.

"You switched the royal menu," Aldric finally said, his voice still carrying a trace of laughter.

Yunho swallowed. "Yes, Father."

"And you thought no one would notice?"

Yunho hesitated, glancing toward the floor again. He had thought about arguing, about explaining that technically, it had still been a proper meal, just in an unusual order. But that line of defense felt laughable now.

"I—" He bit his tongue, realizing there was no reasonable excuse.

Aldric regarded him for a long moment, then, to Yunho’s utter shock, the corners of his lips twitched. "It was amusing, my son."

Yunho’s eyes snapped up, searching his father’s face for any sign of deception. But there was none. The words were spoken with a rare, fleeting warmth—gone as quickly as they had come.

His father did not laugh again, nor did he offer any further praise. But somehow, that single sentence felt heavier than any reprimand. Aldric exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and for a split second, Yunho tensed. But instead of scolding him, his father merely placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"You are my son," Aldric murmured. "Not once have I ever doubted that."

Yunho blinked, confused by the shift in tone.

"But Reed is not Aeros," his father continued. "We do not act on whimsy. We do not indulge in reckless amusements. You will be king one day, and kings do not play." His grip tightened, not painfully, but firmly enough that Yunho felt the weight of every word. "You are free to find humor, but never forget your duty."

Yunho nodded automatically, but Aldric did not release him.

"You do not fear me, do you?"

The question caught him off guard. Yunho's lips parted slightly before he forced them shut. His father had never asked something like that before.

"I respect you," Yunho answered carefully.

Aldric's expression did not change, but Yunho thought he saw something in his gaze—something softer, deeper, just for a moment.

"Good," his father said at last, stepping back. "Then be worthy of that respect."

Yunho straightened his back. "Yes, Father."

The king studied him for a moment longer before turning toward his desk. "Go to bed. It’s late."

Yunho hesitated before bowing his head. He turned to leave, pausing briefly at the door. For a moment, he thought about saying something more—something about how Mingi had convinced him, or how he hadn’t meant any real harm. But the words felt unnecessary.

Instead, he simply murmured, "Goodnight, Father."

King Aldric did not look up from his papers, but Yunho caught the faintest dip of his head, acknowledging him.

And for the first time that night, Yunho let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Spin-Off Masterlist | New World Masterlist

eighteen | CURRENT | nineteen

a/n: finally the long awaied spin off is here! this is the second side tale i've wrote for the kings. a little background of yunho's family and why he is so attentive. i think mingi and yunho have such a good relationship in real life so i implemented here. plus the story is really funny to write, and his mother is just such a sweetheart (y/n reminds him of his mother). i think its such an eye opener on why yunho is such a sweet kid in this story. and grew up to be such a mature man even though he is quite strict and cold.

taglist (open.): @huachengsbestie01 @awkward-fucking-thing @sleepybluesworld @Deliciousloverwhispers @huachengsbestie01 @hrtfem @kandy108 @sousydive @skychapt-blog @moarmycaratiny @juicyjaxxy @atinyapple1117 @woosmaid @soulphoenix1618 @green-moon @yukisroom97 @kibs-and-bits

new world permanent taglist:

@pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchlingdumplingsyum @caratiny-latte @seongwars @halloweenbyphoebebridgers @angelqueendom

@ffenjoyerdazme @lostxxgirl @xh01bri @neemaxx @furfoxsake22 @Thejentheredhead @soulphoenix1618 @pixie0627

I swear upon my name, my blood, and the mark I bear. As the crown rests upon me, I am no longer my own, but a vessel of my people, a guardian of my land, and a keeper of Hala. My wings shall shield, my voice shall guide, and my hands shall build a legacy worthy of those before me. From this day forth, I am not prince, but a king. And as king, I shall serve, until the winds carry me home

A side tale of the Kings in New World.

⋆༺𓆩 𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈 𓆪༻⋆

who am i to say what any of this means? i have been sleepwalkin' since i was fourteen now as I write my song, i retrace my steps honestly it’s easier to let myself forget

nine by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The tryant.

Word Count: in writing.

Warnings: in writing.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𓆪༻⋆

Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you with everySingle thing I have

two by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The remedy.

Word Count: in writing.

Warnings: in writing.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐 𓆪༻⋆

'cause in this city's barren cold i still remember the first fall of snow and how it glistened as it fell i remember it all too well

all to well by taylor swift

Synopsis: The warmth.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: This story contains themes of instances of intense pressure of royal expectations, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[READ HERE]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑲𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𓆪༻⋆

i remember the minute it was like a switch was flipped i was just a kid who grew up strong enough to pick this armor up and suddenly it fit

eight by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The steel.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: This story contains themes of loss, hardship, grief/death, emotional and physical trauma, graphic depictions of injury, portrayal of violence and the intense pressure of royal expectations, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒏 𓆪༻⋆

in this game of hide and seek i can’t help but think that ordinary has swallowed the key bodies fashioned out of dirt and dust for a moment we get to be glorious

four by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The heir.

Word Count: in writing.

Warnings: in writing.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊 𓆪༻⋆

Awake in the sky We break up so high, alright Let's make it our own, Let's savor it

where no one goes by john powell and jónsi

Synopsis: The free.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: This story contains themes of endangerment (mingi falling of a dragon), near-death experiences, hypothermia and survival, depictions of injury and first aid, peril involving falling from heights, animal injury, and the intense weight of royal expectation, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈 𓆪༻⋆

i aim my arrow, i'll dedicate all of this eternal flame to you i aim my arrow, i'll give you all of this moment that will never fade

sagittarius by wooyoung

Synopsis: The fire.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: This story contains themes of the heavy weight of royal duty, emotional expectations from family and faith, and depictions of overwhelming responsibility, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[...]

⋆༺𓆩 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐 𓆪༻⋆

i want to sing a song worth singing, i’ll write an anthem worth repeating, I want to feel the transformation, the melody of reformation.

one by sleeping at last

Synopsis: The pet.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: This story contains themes of loss, starvation, political corruption, hardship, grief/death, emotional and physical trauma, graphic depictions of injury, portrayal of violence and the intense pressure of royal expectations, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

[...]

a/n: I originally planned to create a mood board for each kingdom, but I felt this idea was stronger since New World won’t explore much of their past growth. I hope you enjoy this, my stars. i'm looking forward to your feedback and theories, my loves. please do reach out on my ask away section.

taglist (open.): @huachengsbestie01 @awkward-fucking-thing @sleepybluesworld @Deliciousloverwhispers @huachengsbestie01 @hrtfem @kandy108 @sousydive @skychapt-blog @moarmycaratiny @juicyjaxxy @atinyapple1117 @woosmaid @soulphoenix1618 @green-moon @yukisroom97 @kibs-and-bits

new world permanent taglist:

@pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchlingdumplingsyum @caratiny-latte @seongwars @halloweenbyphoebebridgers @angelqueendom

@ffenjoyerdazme @lostxxgirl @xh01bri @neemaxx @furfoxsake22 @Thejentheredhead @soulphoenix1618 @pixie0627

A side tale of His Majesty King Yunho, the sovereign ruler of Reed from the New World.

Warnings: This story contains themes of instances of psychological and emotional distress, and intense pressure of royal expectations, which may be unsettling or distressing to some readers.

All the events written are fictional. Everything you read are a product of ©leirastar 's imagination. In no way shape or form do i think the characters personality reflect the real person. please don't hate those inspirations.

Reed was always quiet. Snow blanketed the land, muffling sound, and the sea beyond its icy cliffs whispered rather than roared. It had always been this way—calm, steady, enduring. And so was its young prince.

At twelve, Yunho already carried the stillness of his kingdom. He was not the kind of boy to chatter or rush ahead. He walked through the halls of his home with quiet steps, listening more than speaking. His father once told him that a ruler must be like the ice—strong, unyielding, and steady enough to hold the weight of those who relied on him.

His father was a man of few words. His presence alone was enough to command the room, and his gaze, sharp as a blade, often left others stiff and cautious. The people of Reed respected him, even feared him. He ruled with a kind of discipline that left little room for warmth.

But Yunho never feared his father.

It wasn’t that the king was kind—not in the way his mother was, with soft words and gentle hands—but he had never been cruel. His love was not something given freely but shown in ways most wouldn’t notice. He never raised his voice, but Yunho had always known that when he spoke, it mattered. And when the winter storms raged the hardest, the king would always check the fires in Yunho’s room before retiring for the night.

Even now, Yunho knew that if he ever fell, his father’s hand would be the one to pull him back up.

Though Reed’s lands were frozen, its palace never was. His home was proof of that. The fires were always burning, and love—though not loud—was always present.

So the cold never reached the dining hall of the royal palace. Though Reed was a land of ice and silence, the long wooden table where the royal family dined was always warm, the golden glow of candlelight flickering against the frost-covered windows.

Yunho sat in his usual place, across from his father and beside his mother, the quiet hum of supper filling the space. The clinking of silverware, the occasional crackle of firewood—it was peaceful, the kind of silence Yunho had grown to understand.

His mother, the Queen, was the only one who would truly disrupted it.

She talked. A lot.

“…and then I told the steward that if he ever let the kitchen run out of spiced wine again, I would personally drag him to the market myself! Can you imagine, Aldric? A winter feast without spiced wine? Unthinkable!”

Yunho listened, like he always did. His mother’s words flowed like a gentle stream, warm and endless. She talked about the servants, about the state of the marketplace, about the latest gossip among the noblewomen. None of it was particularly important, but it filled the space in a way that made their home feel… alive.

It was because of her that Yunho had learned to listen. Not just to words, but to the things left unsaid—the way voices shifted, the meaning behind pauses.

And because he listened, he noticed things.

Like the way his father always sat with his hands folded neatly over the table, barely speaking unless necessary. Or the way he never interrupted his wife’s ramblings, even when she exaggerated her stories.

And most of all, Yunho noticed the small, nearly invisible smile that would tug at the corner of the king’s lips whenever the queen made a joke.

His father never laughed outright, never shook with mirth the way others did. But there was always that subtle curve to his mouth, the way his eyes softened ever so slightly.

No one else ever seemed to catch it.

But Yunho did.

“…and then, oh, you should have seen his face when I told him the cat had eaten half the pastries before they even made it to the banquet hall! I thought he would faint right then and there!”

Silence. A long pause. Then—

A quiet exhale from the king. Not quite a laugh. But something close.

Yunho felt something warm settle in his chest.

This was what people outside of Reed didn’t understand. They thought of his father as cold, untouchable. But Yunho knew better. He saw the small things—the way his father checked the windows in their rooms at night, adjusted the blanket when they were asleep, the way he always walked beside them on icy paths, ensuring neither he nor his mother would slip.

Love didn’t have to be loud.

It could be silent, like falling snow.

And as Yunho picked up his cup of warm cider, listening to his mother’s next story, he thought that perhaps, in this small, quiet way, he was just like his father.

That night, after dinner, Yunho sat in the study with his father. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the fireplace casting long shadows against the stone walls. His father sat across from him, silent as always, reading over a letter sealed with an unfamiliar crest.

Yunho waited. He had learned from his father that silence always came before something important.

Finally, the king set the letter down. His sharp gaze met Yunho’s.

“Aeros will be visiting,” he said simply.

Yunho blinked. Aeros—the kingdom of the sky. The one that never stayed still. Unlike Reed, where discipline and order shaped daily life, Aeros was not known for its structure. Its people were free-spirited, drifting like the winds they lived upon.

“Why?” he asked.

His father leaned back slightly. “The Pact of the Eight Seals is still new. Bonds must be built, even among those who are… different.”

It had only been a short time since the Pact of the Eight Seals was signed, a fragile peace forming between the kingdoms. As a gesture of goodwill, Reed had invited a delegation from Aeros.

Yunho understood. He had heard enough political talk at court to know that peace did not come from words alone. It had to be maintained, strengthened. Even if it meant welcoming the wind into the land of ice.

His father studied him for a moment, as if gauging his thoughts. “Their prince is your age.”

Yunho wasn’t sure if that was meant to reassure him. If anything, it only raised more questions.

“…What is he like?”

King Aldric exhaled, glancing at the letter once more. “Restless.” A pause. Then, a faint, almost amused glint in his eyes. “You will see soon enough.”

He stood from his chair, reaching for the clasp of his heavy navy cloak. With a practiced motion, he unfastened it, letting the thick fabric slide off his shoulders before draping it over the chair. Beneath it, he wore only a simple tunic—practical, unadorned, yet somehow making him appear no less regal.

Yunho’s eyes flickered to the silver chain around his father’s neck. A wolf’s head, carved from dark metal, rested against his chest. The sapphire embedded in its eye shimmered under the pale glow of the moon filtering through the frosted window. His mother had made that necklace for him long ago, a rare personal gift from a woman who loved grand gestures.

His father caught Yunho staring but said nothing. Instead, he straightened, his expression returning to its usual unreadable calm.

“I need you to be on your best behavior,” he said. His voice was steady, firm—but not unkind.

Yunho nodded immediately. He had never needed reminders of how to behave. Still, the fact that his father was saying this now meant that Aeros was… different.

Different enough to warrant caution.

The winds howled over the snow-covered cliffs, sweeping through the frozen expanse where Reed and Aeros met. Yunho stood beside his parents at the border, wrapped in a thick fur-lined cloak. His breath formed pale clouds in the cold air, but he barely noticed. His sharp eyes were fixed on the sky.

Aeros had arrived.

A fleet of floating carriages, pulled by massive winged beasts, glided down with effortless grace. Dark shapes emerged from the clouds first—winged, powerful, gliding with effortless grace through the cold wind. Then, the sun caught them, revealing massive dragons in deep shades of blue and gold, their scales gleaming under the pale winter light. The creatures flapped their immense wings once before landing with a soft crunch against the frost-covered ground. The banners of Aeros, light blue and gold, rippled in the wind.

Yunho held his ground as the beasts landed, snow billowing from the force of their arrival. The dragons’ breath steamed against the freezing air, their massive chests rising and falling in sync. Gold-plated saddles gleamed along their backs, carrying the figures of Aerosian royals and their guards.

The moment the first carriage door opened, King Aldric stepped forward. He did not hesitate, did not pause to study his guests. As soon as King Hadrian of Aeros emerged, the two men met at the center of the clearing.

The difference between them was stark.

Aldric, wrapped in winter’s quiet authority, carried himself with measured strength. His posture was firm, unyielding, his silver-grey gaze unreadable beneath the heavy weight of the cold.

Hadrian was his opposite. Dressed in flowing layers that moved with the breeze, he had an air of effortless confidence. His golden hair was windswept, his sky-blue eyes holding an easy warmth that did not match the frozen ground beneath his feet.

They clasped hands firmly—A moment of silent understanding passed between them. Then, a small nod.

The peace held.

Yunho barely had time to process the interaction before movement caught his eye. His mother, Queen Lysandra, had already stepped past his father. Before Yunho could blink, she wrapped the Queen of Aeros in a firm embrace.

"Lysandra!" Queen Evelyne’s voice was bright with laughter as she returned the hug. "It has been far too long!"

"Far too long," his mother agreed, pulling back just enough to study her friend’s face. "Look at you! Still floating through life as if gravity doesn’t apply to you."

Evelyne grinned, her golden curls bouncing as she tilted her head. "And you, still trying to freeze time itself. How does Aldric stand it?"

His mother smirked. "Patience."

Yunho caught it again—the almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his father’s lips.

So their queens were friends. That explained why this meeting felt less like a tense negotiation and more like a long-overdue reunion.

Still, Yunho kept his back straight, his expression composed. He knew better than to assume the visit would remain this lighthearted.

The coat draped over his small frame was clearly too big, its fabric flowing around him with every movement. The crown on his head sat slightly askew, and in all honesty, even the crest resting against his chest hung crookedly, as if everything about him refused to stay in place.

Prince Mingi.

The boy he was expected to befriend.

The grand hall of Reed’s castle was a fortress against the winter’s bite, warmed by roaring hearths and the steady glow of lanterns. Though the stone walls carried the weight of history, tonight, they stood witness to something far more personal—the meeting of two kingdoms, of two kings, of two sons.

King Aldric spoke first. “Welcome to Reed. I expect the journey was not too harsh?” His voice was steady, unshaken by the cold winds that whistled through the cliffs.

Hadrian chuckled, adjusting the leather gloves on his hands. “Not at all. A little ice never frightened an Aerosian.” He cast a glance at his son. “Mingi enjoyed himself, didn’t you?”

Mingi grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “The winds were rough, but nothing too bad.” He turned to Yunho, his eyes glinting with a playful edge. “The skies were beautiful up there. Have you ever flown that high before?”

Yunho met his gaze evenly. “Reed’s winds do not welcome careless flying.” His tone was polite, but firm. He had learned from his father that words did not need to be sharp to cut.

Mingi blinked, then let out a small chuckle. “So, no then.”

King Aldric gestured between them. “My son, Prince Yunho.” His eyes flickered toward the boy standing beside Hadrian. “And this is your son?”

Hadrian rested a hand on Mingi’s shoulder. “Prince Mingi.” He grinned slightly. “Restless, as I warned.”

“Unruly,” Aldric responded dryly.

Hadrian laughed. “Aeros does not raise silent sons.”

Yunho stole a glance at his father, noting the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. It disappeared as quickly as it came.

Evelyne sighed dramatically. “Let’s hope this visit does not end in a diplomatic disaster.”

Lysandra smirked. “With boys, that is always a risk.”

As their fathers disappeared behind heavy doors, diving into matters of state, and their mothers settled into quiet conversation by the hearth, Yunho found himself in an entirely different battle.

He was left alone with Prince Mingi.

And Mingi could talk.

“Oh, wow, the halls here are huge. Are they all like this? I thought Reed would be more—oh, I don’t know—compact? Maybe because of the cold? But no, everything’s just tall, and sharp, and dramatic. Actually, that fits. You guys are kind of dramatic, in a cold, quiet way—hey, do you actually like it here? Don’t you get bored? No offense, but everything is just so still.”

Yunho blinked.

Mingi was still talking.

“Back home, there’s always something moving, you know? The islands shift, the winds shift, people shift—like, we’re never just still. Even the air’s different. Here, it’s thick, like it’s trying to slow me down. But maybe that’s just me. Anyway, what do you do for fun?”

Yunho finally found an opening. “…Fun?”

“Yes, fun! You do know what that is, right?”

Yunho stared at him blankly.

Mingi let out a groan, slumping forward dramatically. “Oh, this is going to be harder than I thought.”

Yunho had never met anyone who talked more than his mother. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or exhausted.

And yet, despite himself, he found that he didn’t mind it. Mingi talked enough for the both of them, and Yunho, a boy of few words, found it oddly… convenient. He didn’t have to fill the silence. He didn’t have to search for the right thing to say. He could just listen.

And strangely, he found himself replying more than he expected.

By the time the evening stretched on, Yunho had led Mingi through the halls, past the towering windows where the frost clung thickly to the glass, down to the practice grounds where the snow had been cleared, and to the stables where their dragons were resting from the long flight.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” Mingi said, running a hand along the dark scales of his dragon’s snout. “Your home is pretty cool.”

Yunho raised a brow. “You thought it wouldn’t be?”

Mingi grinned. “Not cool like cold—cool like… cool.” He turned to him, eyes glinting mischievously. “You know, you’re not bad either, Prince Yunho.”

Yunho regarded him for a moment, then exhaled softly. “Neither are you… Prince Mingi.”

Mingi threw an arm around his shoulder. “Ah, see? We’re already getting along.”

Yunho sighed, but didn’t pull away.

The days that followed passed in a quiet blur.

Despite their differences, Yunho found himself constantly in Mingi’s company. Wherever he went, the Aerosian prince followed—talking, questioning, dragging him into conversations he never intended to have. The stillness of Reed had never been so thoroughly disrupted.

Mingi had a habit of filling every quiet moment with words, and Yunho, to his own surprise, had grown accustomed to it. He didn’t always reply, but Mingi never seemed to mind. Sometimes, Yunho caught himself answering before he even realized it.

And now, the visit was nearing its end.

But Mingi had never been one to sit still, and certainly not on his last night in Reed. Which was exactly why Mingi had no hesitation in roping Yunho into one of his infamous schemes.

“Come on,” he urged, nudging Yunho’s arm. “One last adventure before I leave.”

Yunho gave him a flat look. “It’s dinner soon.”

“Exactly! That’s why we need to do something before we get stuck at the table listening to the adults talk about taxes and treaties.” Mingi’s grin was all trouble, eyes alight with mischief. “We should do something memorable.”

Yunho’s gaze flickered toward him warily. He had learned by now that Mingi’s idea of "memorable" often meant something reckless. “Like what?”

Mingi hummed in exaggerated thought, tapping his chin before snapping his fingers. “Let’s swap the dinner menu.”

Yunho stopped walking. He turned his head slowly, staring. “…What?”

Mingi leaned in, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Think about it. Every meal has been exactly the same. Stiff, formal, perfectly arranged—just like you.” His smirk deepened. “Let’s shake things up. We’ll swap out the dishes for something fun.”

“That is not how royal dinners work.”

Mingi shrugged, rocking back on his heels. “Who says? You’re a prince. I’m a prince. We have some say in this, don’t we?”

Yunho’s jaw tightened. It was ridiculous. It was unnecessary. It was—

His steps slowed.

For a moment, he let himself consider it.

The meals in Reed were orderly, structured. Every dish prepared with precision, every course placed with meticulous care. A reflection of the kingdom itself. A reflection of him.

And yet, as he thought about it, something itched at the back of his mind. A memory of the way Mingi had laughed freely over meals, of how, even in the cold halls of Reed, his presence had felt like movement, like something warm pressing against the stillness.

Yunho exhaled, rubbing his fingers against his temple. This was absurd. He would regret it.

“…Fine.”

Mingi nearly jumped in place. “I knew there was a troublemaker somewhere in you. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

Yunho barely had time to regret his decision before Mingi grabbed his wrist and tugged him along, weaving through the halls of Reed’s castle with practiced ease. Yunho could only assume that Mingi had memorized the layout better than he had intended—or more likely, had spent the past few days sneaking around where he shouldn’t.

By the time they slipped into the kitchen, Yunho’s pulse had settled into something steady, almost expectant. The kitchen was warm, a sharp contrast to the cold stone corridors outside. The scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread filled the air, but the kitchen staff barely spared them a glance. Whether it was because they were too busy or because they knew better than to question princes, Yunho wasn’t sure.

Mingi didn’t hesitate. He strode forward, surveying the counters filled with carefully plated dishes. “Alright,” he said, spinning to face Yunho, “what’s Reed’s best dish?”

Yunho blinked, immediately recalling the structured courses of a formal dinner—rich venison stews, carefully layered fish dishes, roasted meats arranged with mathematical precision. Everything had an order, a process, a reason.

Mingi groaned before Yunho could answer. “Forget it. I can already tell you’re about to say something boring. Let’s make it fun.” He grabbed the labels.

Mingi’s grin widened as he grabbed a quill and dipped it in ink. “Since Reed is cold, what if we swapped the royal food orders and made dessert the main course?”

Yunho stared at him. The idea was absurd—an outright disruption of the structured balance that defined Reed’s traditions. And yet… it was amusing. More than that, it was tempting.

Mingi arched a brow, waiting for Yunho’s rejection, for the stiff prince to dismiss him with the same practiced formality he had done countless times before. But instead, Yunho found himself exhaling a quiet chuckle.

He reached for the parchment.

Mingi nearly dropped the quill in shock before hastily shoving it into Yunho’s hand. “Now you’re getting it,” he whispered excitedly, watching as Yunho carefully copied the course order in his neat, measured script—only now, warm honeyed pastries, fruit tarts, and ice sorbets sat where roasted meats and spiced stews should have been.

They slipped the parchment back into place. The deed was done.

The boys barely made it out before the head chef returned, his voice rising into a furious string of curses.

“Who keeps changing the royal food orders mere HOURS before the dinner?!” The man’s bellow carried through the halls, followed by the frantic clatter of pots and chopping knives.

Yunho and Mingi ducked behind a stone column, listening as the kitchen erupted into controlled chaos. The staff scrambled to adjust, barking orders to one another as the revised list was set into motion.

Mingi clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, his shoulders trembling. Yunho, still pressed against the cold stone, felt his pulse hammering in his throat. It was reckless. It was utterly improper.

And yet—

A slow, unfamiliar warmth curled in his chest.

He glanced at Mingi, whose eyes sparkled with unrestrained glee, and something about the moment made Yunho want to hold onto it just a little longer.

For once, he wasn’t just the son of King Aldric.

He was simply a boy, caught in a moment of foolish rebellion with his newfound friend.

The dining hall was filled with the low hum of conversation as nobles and esteemed guests settled into their seats. Yunho, now dressed in formal attire, still found himself chuckling softly with Mingi as they made their way to the long banquet table. The lingering amusement from their mischief clung to him, making him feel strangely weightless despite the usual stiffness of royal gatherings.

The first course was served—something normal, a light broth with freshly baked bread. The dinner proceeded as expected, conversations flowing, goblets filled, and the warmth of candlelight flickering across the polished silverware.

Then, the main course arrived.

The grand trays were uncovered, revealing delicate honeyed pastries, layered fruit tarts, and elegantly sculpted ice sorbets, their frosted surfaces glistening under the candlelight. Chilled berry soufflés and spiced snowdrift puddings sat alongside plates of frozen cream drizzled with syrup, each dish a vision of winter’s embrace. A ripple of confusion passed through the room. Murmurs started, nobles exchanging bewildered glances as a meal of decadence and cold sweetness took the place of the expected rich meats and hearty stews.

Across the table, Yunho and Mingi stifled their laughter—until Yunho made the mistake of looking up.

His father’s gaze was fixed on him, cold and hard, cutting through the flickering candlelight like a blade of ice.

Yunho swallowed, his amusement dying in an instant. He straightened in his chair, forcing his expression into neutrality.

Sensing the shift in mood, his mother, Queen Lysandra, quickly stepped in, offering a graceful smile. “We enjoy the cold,” she said smoothly, lifting a delicate fork to her plate. “So it is only fitting that we have dessert as our main course.”

A pause.

Then, to Yunho’s relief, laughter broke the tension—first from Queen Evelyne, who clapped her hands together, and then from King Hadrian, whose booming chuckle filled the hall.

“Well,” Hadrian mused, lifting a spoonful of custard, “Aerosians do love a little chaos at the table.”

Mingi beamed, nudging Yunho under the table as if to say, See? That wasn’t so bad.

But Yunho wasn’t sure whether he had truly escaped unscathed. His father had yet to say a word.

Even as dinner continued, Yunho was shaking in his seat. He barely touched his plate, his appetite drowned by the weight of his father’s gaze. Every so often, he stole subtle glances in his direction, but even in the midst of his discussion with King Hadrian, Aldric’s eyes never truly left him. It was a silent warning, a cold pressure that settled over Yunho’s shoulders like the frost outside the castle walls.

By the time the meal drew to a close, Yunho felt the tension in his chest tighten. The royal family of Aeros had retired for the night, preparing for their long journey home at dawn. The nobles slowly trickled out of the hall, laughter and conversation fading into the distance. Yunho had just started to rise from his chair when his father’s voice cut through the air like ice.

“Yunho. Come with me.”

Yunho stiffened. His fingers clenched around the fabric of his tunic before he quickly let go, willing himself to move.

Before he could take a step, his mother spoke up, her voice gentle yet firm. “Aldric, don’t be so hard on him.”

Her words lingered between them, a soft plea against the unyielding cold. But Yunho knew better than to hope for leniency. His father did not raise silent sons, but neither did he raise careless ones.

The halls of Reed’s castle had always been cold, but tonight, the chill seeped into Yunho’s bones in a way that had nothing to do with the weather outside. His legs felt stiff as he walked, his usually steady pace disrupted by the weight pressing against his chest. The silence between him and his father was thick, stretching unbearably with each step toward the study. Every footfall echoed, ringing loud in Yunho’s ears, but even louder was the sound of his own heartbeat, thudding relentlessly against his ribs.

The bile in his throat rose each time he tried to swallow it down. He had never feared his father before—not truly. King Aldric was not cruel. He did not shout, nor did he strike. His discipline was ice, not fire—measured, controlled, and absolute. But for the first time, Yunho wondered if tonight would be different. If the king would finally break his cold exterior and raise his voice.

They reached the heavy wooden doors of the study. Aldric pushed them open without a word, stepping inside first. Yunho followed, his fingers twitching at his sides as he crossed the threshold. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows along the stone walls. Stacks of parchment lay neatly on the desk, the faint scent of ink and parchment mingling with the ever-present chill of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Yunho stood frozen, his gaze fixed downward, unwilling to meet his father’s eyes. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if bracing himself for whatever punishment was to come. He could feel the weight of his father’s stare—heavy, unreadable, and utterly suffocating.

Then, cutting through the silence, he heard something unexpected.

A laugh.

Deep, quiet, and unmistakably amused.

Yunho’s head snapped up in disbelief.

King Aldric was laughing. Not the sharp, humorless exhale Yunho had heard in court, nor the rare amused huff he sometimes allowed when Yunho’s mother made a particularly ridiculous joke. No, this was different—low and rumbling, as if he were holding back.

Yunho remained stiff, unable to process what he was witnessing. His father—Reed’s cold and unshakable king—stood with one hand resting on his desk, his shoulders slightly shaking, his navy cloak barely settled from where he had tossed it aside. His piercing gaze, usually so controlled, flickered with something unreadable.

"You switched the royal menu," Aldric finally said, his voice still carrying a trace of laughter.

Yunho swallowed. "Yes, Father."

"And you thought no one would notice?"

Yunho hesitated, glancing toward the floor again. He had thought about arguing, about explaining that technically, it had still been a proper meal, just in an unusual order. But that line of defense felt laughable now.

"I—" He bit his tongue, realizing there was no reasonable excuse.

Aldric regarded him for a long moment, then, to Yunho’s utter shock, the corners of his lips twitched. "It was amusing, my son."

Yunho’s eyes snapped up, searching his father’s face for any sign of deception. But there was none. The words were spoken with a rare, fleeting warmth—gone as quickly as they had come.

His father did not laugh again, nor did he offer any further praise. But somehow, that single sentence felt heavier than any reprimand. Aldric exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and for a split second, Yunho tensed. But instead of scolding him, his father merely placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"You are my son," Aldric murmured. "Not once have I ever doubted that."

Yunho blinked, confused by the shift in tone.

"But Reed is not Aeros," his father continued. "We do not act on whimsy. We do not indulge in reckless amusements. You will be king one day, and kings do not play." His grip tightened, not painfully, but firmly enough that Yunho felt the weight of every word. "You are free to find humor, but never forget your duty."

Yunho nodded automatically, but Aldric did not release him.

"You do not fear me, do you?"

The question caught him off guard. Yunho's lips parted slightly before he forced them shut. His father had never asked something like that before.

"I respect you," Yunho answered carefully.

Aldric's expression did not change, but Yunho thought he saw something in his gaze—something softer, deeper, just for a moment.

"Good," his father said at last, stepping back. "Then be worthy of that respect."

Yunho straightened his back. "Yes, Father."

The king studied him for a moment longer before turning toward his desk. "Go to bed. It’s late."

Yunho hesitated before bowing his head. He turned to leave, pausing briefly at the door. For a moment, he thought about saying something more—something about how Mingi had convinced him, or how he hadn’t meant any real harm. But the words felt unnecessary.

Instead, he simply murmured, "Goodnight, Father."

King Aldric did not look up from his papers, but Yunho caught the faintest dip of his head, acknowledging him.

And for the first time that night, Yunho let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Spin-Off Masterlist | New World Masterlist

eighteen | CURRENT | nineteen

a/n: finally the long awaied spin off is here! this is the second side tale i've wrote for the kings. a little background of yunho's family and why he is so attentive. i think mingi and yunho have such a good relationship in real life so i implemented here. plus the story is really funny to write, and his mother is just such a sweetheart (y/n reminds him of his mother). i think its such an eye opener on why yunho is such a sweet kid in this story. and grew up to be such a mature man even though he is quite strict and cold.

taglist (open.): @huachengsbestie01 @awkward-fucking-thing @sleepybluesworld @Deliciousloverwhispers @huachengsbestie01 @hrtfem @kandy108 @sousydive @skychapt-blog @moarmycaratiny @juicyjaxxy @atinyapple1117 @woosmaid @soulphoenix1618 @green-moon @yukisroom97 @kibs-and-bits

new world permanent taglist:

@pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchlingdumplingsyum @caratiny-latte @seongwars @halloweenbyphoebebridgers @angelqueendom

@ffenjoyerdazme @lostxxgirl @xh01bri @neemaxx @furfoxsake22 @Thejentheredhead @soulphoenix1618 @pixie0627

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 8.2k | 35 mins Warning: This chapter contains aftermath of violence, emotional distress, panic, descriptions of blood, and consensual physical intimacy (kissing). Please do not read if you are sensitive to such content.

Everything after the scream blurred together.

You could remember Jongho first—his face paling as he burst through the threshold, sword half-drawn until he registered it was you. He crossed the room in strides too fast to follow, scooping you into his arms before your knees could give out beneath you. His voice had been in your ear, low and urgent, though you couldn’t recall the words—only the steady tremor of his chest against your cheek, the faint, grounding rhythm of his breath.

Your lips moved uselessly, mumbling the only truth you could cling to. “No…please…I’m scared…” The word cracked each time it left you, broken and small, until Jongho hushed you with a firmer hold, his hand pressing protectively at the back of your head. And you could hear him whispering over and over, “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Then came the others.

Seonghwa strode in next, the candlelight flashing against his white and bronze attire, crown casting sharp shadows across his features. His gaze swept the room once and darkened. The words scrawled above your bed, the heart pinned cruelly to the wall, the doves and eagles splayed across crimson-stained sheets—he took it all in with chilling clarity before his voice cut like steel through the chaos.

“Seal the wing. No one enters, no one leaves. Find me who allowed this breach.”

Hongjoong was at his side, eyes narrowing, already calculating. His hand brushed the hilt of his sword though he didn’t draw it; his weapon was his mind, and it moved quick, sharp. He muttered orders to the steward, voice clipped, his gaze flicking between the horror on the wall and the terror still etched into your trembling frame.