Chapter Text
There was a time when the Aurum Kingdom knew no peace.
The sea, once a source of life, had turned savage and unrelenting. No ship, no matter how mighty, could brave its fury, cutting the kingdom off from the outside world. The fish, once abundant in the surrounding waters, had vanished, fleeing, it seemed, from a cursed shore. Food became a luxury, and hunger, a daily torment. Desperation gripped the people.
In the kingdom’s darkest hour, the island’s prophet summoned the king and his council. His voice, weary yet resolute, carried a message from the gods. One that could restore the kingdom’s prosperity. After years of suffering and with his people starving, the king, cornered by despair, agreed to heed the prophecy.
It was simple and cruel. Every thirty years, one of royal blood must be given to the sea. Only then will the gods be appeased, and mercy returned to Aurum. A sacrifice to calm the divine hunger.
What began as a desperate act has, over generations, evolved into ritual. Cloaked in grandeur to mask its horror. Now, each sacrifice is marked by parades, lavish garments, and overflowing feasts that mock the solemnity of what is to come.
And today, once again, the time has come.
The king must choose one of his own children to offer to the sea.
The sea was calm. Too calm. The servants said that meant the gods were listening.
Seonghwa knows his father would never choose his older brother, as he is the crown prince, the heir of the throne. People think he would choose one of his younger sons but Seonghwa knows better. If something were to happen to his older brother, his father would rather eat chunks of glass than let Seonghwa be king. In his father’s words, he is too soft and naive to have what it's needed to rule a kingdom. Apparently, one needs to be indifferent to human life and take joy in the suffering of the poor to correctly rule.
Today was the Spring Equinox Ceremony and Seonghwa felt empty.
He felt calm and as invisible as always. He feels as if finally, his family had some use for him. Everyone around him hated his kindness, mercy meant weakness, but now he could actually contribute to something.
He went outside to get on the parade carriage with his family. The carriage was filled with white roses and gold details on the railings and wheels, the horse’s tacks were made of a braided gold material he couldn't quite how it was done. His family were dressed with luxurious white clothes, just as himself. The carriage started moving, without any of them uttering a word to each other. He noticed how his brothers weren't nervous, assuming they also know that they were not being picked for the upcoming sacrifice. Everyone on the carriage knows that the must obvious choice would be Seonghwa, so the clear indifference made sense to him.
The carriage left the royal castle's grounds, crossing the huge gates, entering the central market square and parading trough it, the citizens were silent, just looking at them while they went through the streets and Seonghwa started playing with his black hair that went down to his waist to pass time. People wore their best clothes for this special day and on the dock, he could see how many people were already there and he thought that they probably have been there for hours saving spots and trying to get as close to the ceremonial place as possible. His mind took him away, as it often did when he had to be around his family.
He started thinking about the ritual. He was fine with dying for his people and it felt to Seonghwa as if he has already been dead for a long time, he is definitely not suicidal but he has accepted long ago, that his existence has no value. He wasn't even valuable to his closest circle, so much so, that he felt like he was given birth to, just to die. His father resents his gentleness and his brothers mock his empathy.
The horses stopped next to the stairs of the dock and his family walked there before him, he followed them slowly, like his feet didn't want to actually arrive to his designated spot. This dock was made especially for this occasion. Two stone pillars that faced each other, where the sun was setting right in the middle of them, perfectly positioned. A stone altar, standing tall on the middle of the platform was looming on top of him, menacing.
He and his family went up the stairs and his father started his speech. He tried to listen but the ringing in his ears didn't let that happen.
Seonghwa made his calculations as to when he was meant to die since the day he learned how to count, he knew this moment was coming and he knew that he would be the chosen one.
His father kept blurting words he couldn't understand because he was trying to search for reasons to want to stay. But was he to be mocked and humiliated for the rest of his life and secluded to the cold castle?
Honestly, death would be much nicer to him than his family, death would be more comforting. The sea could just surround him with it's pressure, he imagined that it could feel like a hug, but he wasn't sure since he had never been hugged before. Finally, his body appears to have given up on deflecting because he could now hear his father.
“Each equinox, when the light and dark are equal, the realm must restore the balance with a life to the sea. And to honour our gods and to follow on our beautiful family tradition, I will now let all of you know which one of my sons will have the amazing privilege of letting every one of us keep a profitable life. Sons, take a step forward and wish to be the chosen one to fulfill what you were born to do for your people.” His father's posture is perfect, controlled, unexpected for someone who was about to watch one of his children die.
He stepped forward just like his brothers, the four of them lining up from oldest to youngest next to each other, they moved their heads down as accorded to what they were told to do the day before and they had their hands behind their backs. If people didn't know about the ritual and the fact that they were the Aurum Kingdom's princes, someone could think they were about to be beheaded. Seonghwa closed his eyes, he breathed through his nose reminding himself that he is prepared for the inevitable.
He has known since childhood that he had an expiration date and when he felt his father's hand settle it's calloused fingers on his head, signaling to the people that Seonghwa has been chosen, he felt somewhat relieved.
He opened his eyes, the sun was too bright, but with no warmth. Lifting his head, he could now see the town's faces looking directly at him waiting for his approaching death. Hundreds if not thousands of people were in front of him, so many that he couldn't see where the crowd ended. All of them were throwing flower petals and rice at him, chanting his name and urging him to die.
“Prince Seonghwa has been chosen!” The king shouted and smiled as big as it seemed physically possible and he stood next to his second son, a hand on his shoulder and for the first time, Seonghwa didn't feel the painful squeeze that always came each time his father touched him. “The prince, born of crown and tide, is lowered beneath the waves not to die, but to meet the gods and help us live!” The king did not look at Seonghwa like a father, not even like a king but like an executioner.
The Head Priest stepped onto the dock stage and crowned him with a beautiful gold crown that imitated sea algae. Seonghwa felt a pressure on his shoulder and when he looked, he could see a tunic surrounding his frame and he helped the priest arrange it correctly. The priest was giving a speech about the tradition and how it will help the kingdom, and some other things the prince couldn't really pay attention to, he was watching the deep blue tunic that was given to him, admiring the details, for the people looking at him, it was almost surreal the fact that the man was just told that he is to die today, and he was checking his clothing material but for Seonghwa, these weren't news.
“We now know, prince Seonghwa was not meant to rule but to restore. His fate has been decided and his love for his people is so big that it will let the gods know to let us prosper. The gods will not take his life with cruelty, they will hold him with their arms as they embrace him as one of their own” Seonghwa looked at the sea behind him and it looked calm, almost too calm, like it was waiting for him “His name will not be forgotten, it will echo through the streets when the storms stop and don't keep attacking us as they did without rest during our dark period. He will make himself known when the fish don't leave our shores. And so, with sacred silence, we’ll let the tide take our prince and let the gods seal our eternal treaty” The Priest motioned his hand towards the sea, letting Seonghwa know that he was now to make his way to the plank. The crowd had grown silent again due to the priest’s command and Seonghwa started walking without sparing a glance to his family nor the kingdom. He wasn't loved by his family, which encouraged him to not say his goodbyes to anyone.
He started moving his feet to his fate, the plank seemed to be made of white marble, reflecting the sunlight. He stepped on it and walked, slowly but not shaking. Detached and quiet from the shame he feels from his willingness of dying. He made his way down to the very edge of the plank. Steady, his mind and body numb to his approaching end and he just walked. Walking towards his fate wasn't as bad as he thought. His life was so miserable, that now, walking to his imminent death felt as if the imaginary shackles he had around his wrist were taken from him. It felt like he was walking to his freedom, as weird as it must sound to others.
The white flowers that were used to decorate the plank were already wilting. Seonghwa felt at peace, not because he's brave, but because he's done trying to care.
Everyone was silent, waiting for him to jump. Seonghwa was taking his time. Reminiscing his life. Looking for just one thing or one person that might make him doubt if he should jump, but there was nothing. Not one person would miss him, he had nothing that tied him to earth.
So then, Seonghwa filled his lungs with air, taking a deep breath one last time, and he prepared himself to jump and be taken in by the sea to become one with it.
He looked at the sky one last time and then, he just let himself take one step onto the air and he felt his body fall very slowly to his new, forever home. The sea received him and no one wept.
Hongjoong came to the kingdom for gunpowder and bad rum, not men on planks.
Leaning lazily against a stack of crates, the pirate squinted into the sun. His crew preparing to leave as they already got what they needed from this place, but the amount of people made him curious. He knows he arrived late, he could hear a far away speech being spoken, but he wasn't close enough to the stone stage to hear well. He came for supplies but stayed for entertainment. There was a man walking towards a plank, looking far too calm for someone about to be consumed by the ocean.
Hongjoong's eyes flicked to the group around the strange man, silks, jewels, powdered faces and expensive accessories. A royal ritual, of course. He rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the men in charge.
Two guards stood nearby the man with ceremonial spears, not that they were needed, the man wasn't running. He was calm, like he made peace with drowning a long time ago. He looked at the royals, all jewelry and no brains, one of their rings could easily feed at least a hundred hungry servants, they were standing and looking at the sky with their hands raised.
"There's nothing worse than a rich man pretending to pray" He spoke onto the air. The captain was stunned by those people's behaviour.
He didn't know who the man on the plank was. He didn't really care, to be honest.
But something about the quietness in his posture, the stillness in the way he waited to vanish, made Hongjoong's jaw clench. The group's feet moved away from the man, as if scared that they could fall with him. Rich folk played at reverence the way they played at war. From a safe distance.
The man walked the plank but there was something about him, about the way he stood there, at the edge, not trembling or proud, not a smile but neither a cry, just quiet. The kind of quiet Hongjoong recognized, the kind you only saw in people who had already given up.
So he moved, not for mercy or pity but just to ruin someone's day.
And he was fast.
A blur through the crowd, a blade flashed, a priest fell back with a startled shout. The guards were too slow to stop him. By the time someone shouted "pirate", Hongjoong was already jumping onto the sea.
Seonghwa’s body felt cold. He let the sea take what it was promised.
He fell into the dark sea and he opened his eyes. Everything around him was calm, calmer that he imagined. He expected to have an urge to resurface, an instinct to swim up and breathe again, but he didn't. The silence was peaceful and he didn't struggle.
He just let it happen, his limbs were cold but steady. His body was horizontal and looking upwards he could see the sunlight getting farther and farther, making everything even darker. The salty sea was hurting his eyes. His mind should be racing, his body should be fighting, but no, just calm. The only thing hurting were his lungs, burning from the lack of air but for once, no one asked anything of him, not even a breath.
He accepted his fate long ago and also, he was doing this for his people. His family didn't like him, the town's people didn't know him, but he loved them and he wanted for them to live a good life. So he accepted it. His life was to end today, he was getting dizzy and he realized that it was almost over. Just a little more and he would be finally free.
His crown sank and his blue tunic fell somewhere else during the fall. He could see his hair floating around him and it made him want to laugh at how disheveled he must look.
He blinked slowly and he could see a silhouette above him. He imagined that it must be one of the sea gods, coming to get their sacrifice. And he was ready for them to take him and hopefully they would think that he was worth enough to satisfy them. He saw the shadow get closer and he closed his eyes, letting go of the little amount of breath he had been holding, not needing it anymore.
Seonghwa could feel as if his soul was leaving, as if it was swimming towards the surface. He was happy, that at least his soul would be free up there and not down the deep sea forgotten by everyone, alone and miserable with his body. But then, he realized it wasn't his soul. Something moved, disturbing his calm, but he was so determined to go that he couldn't pay much attention to it.
His body was going up, his dizzy mind didn't let him investigate what was going on. Water was filling his lungs, he wished for it to go fast, eyes still closed and just letting go.
The last thing he could register was feeling tight arms around him and the sun shining on his face, maybe the gods were merciful and they let him die thinking that he was safe. But he knew it was impossible.
He felt as if it had been hours, his mind totally blank. He felt at peace. Finally.
Hongjoong was swimming trying to reach the man, he wasn't struggling. Just letting the sea swallow him. The pirate went deeper and finally got his hands on the man. The water was cold, teeth clenched and he kicked up. The man didn't flinch, like he was already gone but Hongjoong had decided that the pretty boy was not dying today.
He yanked hard, wrapping an arm around the man's chest and surged toward the surface. The weight of fabric, of decision, dragged them both but Hongjoong pulled heavier things from sea, like treasure chests filled with gold.
He surfaced, holding the man and right next to him was a boat with some members of his crew. They saw everything happening and went as fast as they could to retrieve them and get on the ship. Rough hands grabbed them both over the rail of the boat. Hongjoong coughed up seawater, then turned to the body laying on the floor. Still beautiful and still unwanted by the gods.
They arrived next to his ship and the boat was pulled up by the few that had stayed on the ship to hold watch. "You were supposed to let the sea have him." Mingi's tone was as nagging as always. All of them standing on the deck, looking at the man laying in font of them.
"I know."
He was about to tell them about why he made his decision but he saw the man move, like he was coming back to life.
Seonghwa didn't remember the impact.
One moment, there was silence. The water had folded around him like hands in prayer, cold, clean and final.
The next, he woke up to the sky.
Endless, framed by ropes and sails that creaked in rhythm with the sea. The deck beneath him was rough, warm where the sun touched it and slick with salt where it didn't. For a brief, broken moment, he thought he was dead.
Then the pain arrived.
His muscles burned, lungs throbbed and his clothes, soaked and clinging, scratched against his skin rubbed raw by salt and movement. His hair was plastered to his neck and back, he tasted blood and seawater, and something worse, air. Seonghwa blinked and above him, seagulls circled, screaming like they were laughing. Around him, voices barked orders and boots thudded against the planks. He was on a ship, not the royal vessel, not the altar barge, something else, something worse.
The sea hadn't taken him.
Someone had stolen him back.
Why?
He sat up slowly, dizziness pressing in at the edges of his skull. The world tilted and his vision blurred, there were no guards, no priest with a rehearsed blessing, not his father lecturing him, just strangers, just noise and survival. A shadow passed in front of him, a man with wild hair, eyes like storms and wet from head to toe.
"You're awake," he said, as if commenting on the weather. Seonghwa just stared at him."You jumped," the man added, grinning like it was a joke. "Brave and stupid, I respect it." His voice was casual, too casual for someone who hauled a body from the depths. He didn't sound like a savior and he didn't look like one either.
"Why..." Seonghwa's voice cracked. He hated how small it sounded. "Why did you bring me back?" The man shrugged.
"Because it pissed me off. Also, you were drowning wrong." He walked off before Seonghwa could reply, of course he did.
Seonghwa saw that the ship had only six people, besides himself and the man that just left.
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of salt, sweat and unfamiliar wood. Nothing like the sterile perfumes of the palace, this was real, loud and ugly. Seonghwa curled his fingers against the deck, pressing his palm to the heat as if trying to convince himself that this was real. He was supposed to die and he made peace with that. He looked out the open ocean, the waves stretching like an invitation, a promise unfulfilled. He was breathing again and he didn't know how to hate that enough.
The midday sun bit harder than the cold ever had. Seonghwa had dried only in patches, the salt made his clothes stiff, clinging to his skin like guilt and his long hair was wild and tangled. He didn't know how long he had sat there, soaked and staring until someone barked at him to move.
A tall and lean man looked mad, he was told to walk. He followed, mostly because staying still seemed more humiliating. The ship's corridors were narrow, lined with crates and coils of rope. The crew barely looked at him. One laughed as he passed, muttering something about "the fish smell". He was led to a door made of rough wood and had metal hinges that were green from rust. The tall man knocked once and pushed it open. Inside, the air was warmer, quieter. The captain's quarters by the looks of it.
Maps cluttered the walls, a half filled bottle sat on the desk, a dagger stabbed through a knot of tied parchment and at the center of it all, behind the desk, reclined the man who had dragged him from the sea. His boots were up on the table, his coat draped over the chair beside him like a bored animal and his hair still wet from the rescue. He didn't look up right away, just kept writing something with quick, angry strokes. "Sit or don't," he said. "Won't change the next part" Seonghwa didn't even notice when the tall man left, leaving him alone with his savior, or his executioner, depending on how this conversation went.
Seonghwa stayed standing. Finally, the man glanced up. His eyes narrowed, traveling over Seonghwa's body like he was checking for cracks in cheap glass.
"You smell like salt and regret, and I hate both." The man leaned back. "I didn't save you for charity, Sacrifice. I saved you because it annoyed the people I hate the most. Which means you now owe me a favor." Seonghwa's mouth was dry and the other man smiled, all teeth and no joy. "You work, you scrub decks, coil ropes, empty piss buckets, whatever the crew tells you. You don't get to stand around looking tragic." Something in Seonghwa's chest twisted, not from pride but from the way his new reality fell onto him. He is prince, he never cleaned one thing in his whole life.
"Fine," He said, softly. "What do I do first?" The man seating tilted his head, as if slightly amused.
"You see those buckets by the door? Grab one ad go find Wooyoung. He'll show you which parts of the ship haven't been clean since last month." Another pause, longer this time. "You want to die so badly?" The man added. "You are gonna wish you had, after a day under the sun with a brush."
Seonghwa turned to go. He didn't feel the need to respond but the man called after him once more, almost lazily. "Oh, and if you try jumping again, I won't dive in twice. I may be a pirate but I hate getting wet."
The bucket was heavier than it looked.
It sloshed awkwardly in Seonghwa's grip as he made his way below deck, each step jarring the ache in his shoulders. The coarse shirt they'd given him scratched at his skin and the sleeves were already clinging with sweat and salt. He didn't ask for help, he didn't know who to ask.
The ship groaned and shifted around him, ropes creaking like breath, floorboards muttering beneath his feet. The smell of it all was overwhelming, salt, smoke, old fish and like something meaty that had long since stopped being food. He found the galley by accident. It wasn't hard to identify, firelight, low ceilings and the sharp, metallic scent of cooking oil filled the space. A figure stood by the counter, back turned, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and stained with grease and possibly, blood.
The cook looked younger than most of the crew, but something about him radiated danger, not violence, but mischief sharpened into weaponry. His movements were quick, efficient, precise. A knife glinted in his hand. Seonghwa hesitated at the doorway. The cook didn't turn around. "You gonna stare or say something, Sacrifice?"
The words landed like a slap, but the prince didn't flinch. "Im not-" he started, then stopped. Correcting him felt pointless, he didn't look like a man who listened to reason. "The captain told me to clean. I need to ask Wooyoung to tell me where." The man set the knife down and finally turned. His smile was too wide to be friendly.
"Lucky you, you found Wooyoung," Seonghwa's just stood there, no reactions in sight. "You're staying still because you're afraid or because you're obedient?"
"Both." Seonghwa admitted, quietly.
That made Wooyoung laugh, not cruelly this time, just loud enough to echo. "An honest man. That's new." He wiped his hands on a rag and gestured to a corner behind the prep counter. "Start with the storage hatch. It's disgusting. If something bites you, scream, if it doesn't let go, stab it, if it looks expensive, don't touch it since it's probably cursed." Seonghwa nodded.
"What do I use?"
"Your hands or a brush, if you find one or a rag. Welcome to a pirate ship, commoner." He moved past Seonghwa with a plate of something steaming and unidentifiable. "Oh! And don't get blood on the onions. Again."
Seonghwa blinked. "Again?" Wooyoung was already gone.
The storage hatch creaked open with a groan of protest. It smelled like mold and brine and something worse. Something rotting beneath layers of un bothered time. He dipped the top of a rag into the bucket and began to scrub.
No altar, no royal ceremonies and one watching to see if he broke, just wood, salt and a name no one cared about.
His fingers ached and his knees stung from the floor's uneven boards. The silence down here was different, not sacred but real, it felt honest.
He scrubbed at the grime caked into the floorboards, the salt crusted corners where something once bled or spilled and never got properly cleaned. The smell turned his stomach, but he didn't stop. This is what Seonghwa wanted, wasn't it? A task, a purpose, a place beneath notice. He worked in rhythm, dip, scrub and wipe. Again and again, and his thoughts spiraled.
He remembered the priest's voice from the temple echoing in his head. "Each sacrifice ensures balance. The tides rise, the storms sleep and the kingdom thrives." He'd repeated those words as a boy. Learned them like a prayer, a promise. He'd believed them. Until the moment his name was spoken to the public and the king was happy. The king didn't even blink, not once. He was told since birth that he was not meant to rule, but he could be useful one day. Useful like a shield, like a rope, like bait.
His hands tightened around his rag, knuckles pale. What would happen now?
The ritual had been broken. The sea gods, if they existed, had been denied, the tides would turn. People would panic, famine might follow and everyone would blame him. His name would rot on the tongue of every noble and the people, the ones he'd thought he was dying for, would curse him for surviving. He should have gone quietly, but the sea hadn't wanted him.
Or maybe it had and someone else decided not to let him go.
His vision blurred as the lantern above flickered. He wasn't angry, not really. Anger required hope, that things might change, that someone might hear. This was something colder.
Guilt.
Not because he lived, but because the people would suffer for it. His shoulders sagged and he pressed his forehead to the damp wood, rag slipping from his grasp. The scent of salt filled his nose. He let it sting.
For a moment, he imagined staying down here forever in the dark, scrubbing away every memory, every name and every sin he hadn't committed, but still wore like silk.