Chapter Text
Chan very carefully doesn’t let any of the panic he’s feeling show on his face. Felix is next to him in the carriage, after all, and if Chan panics, Felix will too. Who knows what will happen then? Both of them jump when there’s a brusque knock on the door, swinging open before Chan can even formulate a response. If Chan were who he’s pretending to be, he’d have whoever is at the door beheaded for disrespect. You don’t invade the space of a Royal without permission. Changbin-ssi, the King’s General, is peering at them with a look of disgust on his face. Chan swallows heavily, carefully shifting so that he’s in front of Felix. He doesn’t want Felix to have to see that look. Not that Felix isn’t used to it, but still. “We’re almost there,” is all Changbin says, and then he’s swinging the door shut again. Felix whispers a thank you against the nape of Chan’s neck, quietly, where he knows Changbin won’t notice and try to hurt him for daring to speak. But Felix is Felix, and he likes to be polite and have manners, even for people who don’t necessarily deserve it.
“Hyung,” Felix says, fingers curling in the back of Chan’s jacket. His useless, fancy looking, heavy with brocade jacket that King Yoon had forced onto Chan before they’d left the Kingdom of Sydney. Chan turns, pasting a smile on his face.
“We’re okay, Lixie. We’re almost there, and then—” and Chan is grateful when Felix cuts him off by pulling him into a hug, because he doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. He doesn’t know at all, and the not knowing terrifies him.
When King Yoon had told him—or, rather, informed him without giving him any sort of choice—that he was going to be assuming Prince Jae Yoon’s place as husband-to-be to King Minho of Gimpo, he’d been terrified. Prince Jae Yoon was a cruel, unbending, and sadistic human being, who liked torturing his servants, his soldiers, and most especially his enemies. The people of Gimpo had been on that list since the Prince had been born. The Kingdoms of Gimpo and Sydney had been at war for decades, and everyone was tired of it, except, perhaps, King Yoon and Prince Jae Yoon. Not to mention it was completely unsustainable—crops were dying, livestock were either starving or being killed, and the people of both Kingdoms were suffering. So, King Minho had offered a chance for an alliance—King Minho would marry Prince Jae Yoon, and that would cement an alliance and a negation of hostilities between the two Kingdoms. The only problem with that, of course, was that King Yoon did not want to send his son to the Kingdom of Gimpo. So instead, he’d gone looking for a servant who looked the most like Prince Jae Yoon. And Chan, with his curly black hair, the scar on his face, and his height and physique, fit the bill.
When King Yoon had called for Chan, he’d been terrified. Chan, along with Felix, served Prince Jae Yoon, and he was cruel enough. He’d given Chan the scar across his face, after all. But the King was even worse. Chan probably didn’t know half of what he’d done, but what Chan did know horrified him. So Chan had gone, shaking, in his threadbare servant’s outfit, and he’d kneeled the moment he’d entered the King’s study. Why wasn’t this…whatever this was taking place in throne room? Chan didn’t know but he certainly wasn’t going to ask questions. He’d dropped into a full bow when the King had entered, holding his breath and trying to make sure that he was as quiet and as still as he could be. The King paced forward, and Chan pressed his forehead to the carpet to avoid looking at him. “Look at me, boy.” Chan shrunk down for a moment, away from the King’s cold, smug voice, before he realized he’d been given an order. He jerked himself upright, careful not to overbalance, placed his hands on his thighs, and stared somewhere around the King’s chest. One did not look the King of Sydney in the eye and live to tell the tale. Chan had seen too many servants die that way. They were often executed in public, as a message to everyone else who might disrespect the King. Except King Yoon had wrapped a hand around his jaw and yanked his head up, forcing Chan to meet the King’s eyes. Chan had gone still immediately. Surely the King wouldn’t have him executed if he was just following the King’s orders? Idiot. That’s exactly something that the King would do. Chan had directed his gaze somewhere around the King’s forehead. “You’ll do, I suppose,” the King had growled, tossing Chan’s head back toward the ground and knocking him off balance. Chan had caught himself soundlessly. He’d swallowed nervously. Do for what? “Stand up, boy.”
Chan stood quickly, making sure not to stumble, because the King was so close that Chan would have bumped into him. The last servant to touch the King had had his hands cut off. “You will be assuming the identity of Prince Jae Yoon, and you will be marrying Prince Minho of Gimpo. This will ensure that the alliance does not crumple, and I do not have to give my son to a Kingdom of savages. Understood?” Chan, shocked, had dropped into a ninety degree bow immediately.
“Yes, Your Grace. I understand.” That was a lie. He didn’t understand, not really. But the Prince’s tailor had come to outfit him with a completely ridiculous and stuffy looking outfit, and thankfully, he’d explained more. Chan knew that the Kingdom of Sydney was losing the war—Felix had overheard the King and the Prince talking about it, during one of the times Chan hadn’t managed to keep Felix as far away from the Royals as possible. King Yoon needed a way to end the war without admitting to his people that he was losing. Then, like a gift from the universe, King Minho of Gimpo had reached out, sending the King a message that he would be open to an alliance that would end the war. The caveat? Prince Jae Yoon’s hand in marriage. Chan could understand why he’d asked for Prince Jae Yoon’s hand in marriage. The Prince wasn’t the heir, he would likely have been traded off for marriage anyway, if King Yoon wasn’t so possessive of his son. Also, there was a rumor that Prince Jae Yoon had managed to kill the King and Queen of Gimpo, although Chan didn’t know if that was true or not. If King Minho was asking for Prince Jae Yoon, did that mean he was going to be punished for killing King Minho’s parents? Taking the Prince as a husband would also give King Minho a hostage to hold over the Kingdom of Sydney’s head. It was a safety net, of sorts, for the Kingdom of Gimpo.
King Yoon had decided to take advantage of King Minho sending the message, and of the fact that no one really knew exactly what Prince Jae Yoon looked like. The descriptions Chan was sure were circling both Kingdoms could easily be applied to Chan as well, which was exactly why the King—or rather, his Advisors who actually looked at the servants—had chosen him. Of course, King Yoon wouldn’t dream of sending his son to a hostile Kingdom. Instead, the real Prince Jae Yoon would be sent to the far edges of the Kingdom, where he could spend his days out of sight and out of mind. Chan mentally apologized to the people there. Prince Jae Yoon had told Chan once, when he was bathing and had forced Chan to remain in the room and attend to him, that he liked the edges of the Kingdom better anyway. There was more freedom to do what he wanted. Chan mentally translated that to torturing, maiming, and killing the residents, but there was nothing he could do about that. This way, the King could keep his son within the Kingdom of Sydney. However, there still needed to be a Prince Jae Yoon to marry King Minho—which is where Chan came in.
Chan wasn’t exactly happy about being forced to marry someone, especially someone who would think that Chan had murdered his parents. He certainly wasn’t going to argue it though. He didn’t feel like losing his tongue. It’s not like Chan was a prude. He knew what would be expected of him as a Prince—even a fake one—arranged to marry a King. And…he’d had sex before. Prince Jae Yoon had forced him down often enough, and he and Felix had staked a claim on each other in the way that servants who have no power or say over their lives do. But…Chan didn’t want to get married if he couldn’t marry for love. And he was quite sure that King Minho would never love the man who might have murdered his parents and had most definitely been one of the most dangerous and cruel combatants of the war.
While Chan was being forced into clothing that was entirely too fancy, too heavy, and did absolutely nothing to cover him or warm him, he was thinking over the rest of what the tailor said. King Minho of Gimpo had stated what Prince Jae Yoon was allowed to bring into the Kingdom of Gimpo. There was a long list of clothes, weapons, horses, jewelry, and other such princely things. Those didn’t matter to Chan. What did matter, however, was that King Minho had allowed Prince Jae Yoon to bring one servant. He might be able to bring Felix. He wouldn’t have to leave the other boy—and the love of his life, if he were being honest—alone in this desolate Kingdom with Prince Jae Yoon, who was obsessed with the other’s fae-like appearance. If Felix was left here, Prince Jae Yoon would most definitely ask for Felix to be sent with him. But if Chan managed this…he wouldn’t have to leave Felix to an unknown fate while he himself went off to be punished for something he hadn’t done but would never be able to admit.
The Advisor to the King had, surprisingly, offered Chan the choice of servants to take with him. Chan had chosen Felix, stating that they most often attended to Prince Jae Yoon anyway, and that way it was less likely to be discovered that they were protecting Prince Jae Yoon from the Kingdom of Gimpo. He was careful the way he phrased it—he would not risk anything keeping him from Felix. It had to sound like the Advisor’s idea more than Chan’s. Why would the Advisor to a Kingdom listen to a lowly servant? But the Advisor was clever, of course, Cahn fawned. He was clever and he knew that the best way to ensure that they managed their ruse was to make sure that there were two people involved who knew how the Prince acted. The Advisor had agreed, puffing up importantly. Chan had breathed out a sigh of relief, carefully tucking his glee away where no one would see it and try to take it from him.
It was dark outside, in the early hours of the morning, when Chan had finally been dressed and packed with Prince Jae Yoon’s things. He’d waited, shivering, because for all the heaviness of the metal and jewels on the stupid jacket he was wearing, it did absolutely nothing for him in terms of warmth. It was utterly ridiculous. Chan had always thought the clothes the Royals wore must be warm, but apparently not. He was almost saddened by that fact. What was the point of all this finery if it didn’t keep you warm? Felix had been dragged, pale and shaking, over to the carriage and shoved in without fanfare or explanation. Chan wasn’t surprised Felix went without a fuss. He’d seen Chan, shooting him as much of a nod as he could risk, and that was how they’d survived for so long—going where they were led without trouble. They were so close to getting out, to being free of Sydney, and Chan couldn’t risk Felix being forced to stay behind. Chan very carefully didn’t think of what was awaiting them.
When the King showed up with the carriage driver and the guards who would be sent back after reaching the border where the General of Gimpo would meet them showed up, Chan dropped into a deep bow. He’d been instructed not to dirty his pants by dropping to his knees. The King himself had told him that, but Chan still held his breath. Would the King have changed his mind? Or forgotten? But the King just told him to stand up in that cold, nasally, grating voice, and instructed him to do his best for his Kingdom. After all, if King Minho found out that Chan wasn’t Prince Jae Yoon, surely the war would start again. Chan wouldn’t want that to happen, would he? Sydney’s people would starve and suffer, and it would be Chan’s fault. Chan had agreed, bowing and scraping, struggling to breathe and not panic. Chan had been shoved in the carriage much the same way Felix had, and then they’d set off.
Chan had pulled Felix into the crook of his neck and shoulder, soothing his tears with a gentle kiss. He’d explained the situation as best he could. After they got to the Kingdom of Gimpo, Chan would have to be Prince Jae Yoon and Felix would have to be Prince Jae Yoon’s servant. He’d explained why, explained what the King had told him and what had happened when Chan had been summoned. And then he’d hummed softly to Felix, stroking his hair, and rocking slightly until Felix fell asleep. They’d stayed secluded in the carriage. Chan had locked it, thankful that the Prince’s carriage locked from the inside instead of the outside, and he’d covered the windows. Maybe, if he and Felix stayed still and quiet, they wouldn’t be bothered. The guards who were escorting them had been given strict instructions not to touch them so that the people who were escorting them the rest of the way to Gimpo wouldn’t be suspicious. The guards usually left them alone anyway. It was Prince Jae Yoon who seemed to have an obsession with ordering them to do things, forcing them to do things, and punishing them when they either didn’t or couldn’t obey. Still though, Chan didn’t want to risk it.
Thankfully, on the four occasions when Chan and Felix had tentatively clambered out of the carriage, the guards had ignored them both. Chan had kept Felix behind him anyway. There was no sense in offering Felix to them if he didn’t have to. They’d been given food and water, and they left the carriage only when they had to, and they always left together. The Advisor had also gone with them, but Chan hadn’t known that until the second day. He wasn’t quite sure why the Advisor was there, especially given that meant the guards had to deal with another carriage. Chan and Felix were the only ones in the carriage—the Advisor had a different one to himself, which made sense. After all, the carriage Chan and Felix were in would be going to Gimpo. The Advisor’s carriage would be going back to Sydney.
Arriving to the border disrupted their nice little routine. General Changbin had met them at the border between Gimpo and Sydney, about three days after they set off. The guards had yanked Chan out of the carriage, forcing Felix to help him into another ridiculously gaudy outfit that Prince Jae Yoon would have loved. Then they’d bowed to the General, tilted their heads to Chan, —stupid, could give them away because Prince Jae Yoon most definitely would have punished them all—and tried to leave. General Changbin had stopped them with a smirk on his face. He’d forced the Advisor to essentially hand Chan over to the General. The Advisor had done so, obviously unhappy if the bruising grip he had on Chan’s arm was any indication. The people of Gimpo had a new carriage waiting, which General Changbin had forcefully escorted Chan over to and motioned him into. Felix, quiet and still and trying to blend into the foliage surrounding them like a good servant, had followed. General Changbin had eyed them oddly but didn’t comment. Then they’d set off again. It had been another three days of the same routine—stay in the carriage unless necessary—and now they were here.
Chan draws himself up. He’s now Prince Jae Yoon, he has to act like it. He and Felix had talked, plotting the best way to fool the Kingdom of Gimpo, and they’d settled on acting cold but not cruel, dignified, and silent. It wasn’t the best plan, but it was what they had to work with. Chan could imitate Prince Jae Yoon perfectly. He’d been assigned to the Prince when he was nine, and he’d remained the Prince’s servant ever since. Felix had come after Chan, but they’d both been the Prince’s servants for nearly half their lives. But…Chan couldn’t be cruel. He wouldn’t. And so—withdrawn and cold, dignified, and silent, so that this ruse would hopefully last. They very pointedly didn’t talk about the wedding. When Felix had tried to bring it up, Chan had just shaken his head. He didn’t want to talk about how he’d successfully freed himself and Felix from Sydney, only to belong to yet another man. Yet another Royal who would have power over him, who might use Felix against him. If King Minho wanted to punish him for the war…Chan wouldn’t be able to protest. Even worse, if King Minho decided to punish Felix for the war, Chan wouldn’t be able to do anything.
The carriage shudders to a stop, and Chan forces his face into blankness. Felix squeezes his hand, then lets go. Chan doesn’t look back. He doesn’t want to see the fear that’s written across Felix’s face, he doesn’t want to see Felix pulling himself into the blank façade of a servant. He doesn’t want Felix to see him pulling on the façade of a man who caused them both so much pain. The door swings open, and Chan steps out.
Time to meet his future husband.