Chapter Text
Doyoung, for the second time in his life, and a different reason, wanted to kill the Sillan prince.
“He leaves you pregnant while his kingdom is stuck in bloody strife? Does he not have even an iota of a sense of responsibility in him?” Doyoung fumed, pacing back and forth in his brother’s chambers. His brother sat meekly on his bed, and Doyoung knew he shouldn’t yell, but it was the Sillan prince he was mad at, anyway.
And by the heavens, was he mad.
“Who knows how long it might take him to return? Can anyone ever put a guarantee on when a war might end? What, then, are you to have his child, out of wedlock, while he’s on the battlefront? Are you to raise his child by yourself? How could he be so irresponsible?”
Doyoung shook his head in anger, once again left only incensed by Mark’s behavior. Not once had Mark proved himself to be anything but irresponsible. And he was just about to point this out to Jungwoo when the younger spoke.
“Hyung, I took as much…part in the making of this child. You needn’t be so harsh on Mark….”
That…was true, but Doyoung’s one vice, out of the many he probably had, was that he could not ever find fault, or blame, with his own loved ones. And certainly not with Jungwoo.
“That is not the point; I gave him your address so he could let you know that he was safe and you would find some solace in that fact, but I expected him to be upright about it—not take advantage of you while you were in pain.”
But Jungwoo sat up at that, “Hyung, he did not take advantage of me. Yes, we made love without taking the necessary precautions, but he had my full consent the entire time. And how we as two grown adults express our love for each other and indulge in our desires is, frankly, none of hyung’s business.”
Feeling sufficiently chastised and having realized that perhaps he had gone a bit far, Doyoung opened his mouth to apologize and explain where he had actually been coming from, but Jungwoo continued with a heavy sigh, “At any rate. I do not consider the life inside of me to be a result of irresponsible behavior. Mark and I had fully known that I might end up pregnant, and he promised to take responsibility. And more than anything, I wish to have this child.”
At the look of utter resolve on Jungwoo’s face, and the way he had immediately brought a protective hand over his stomach, Doyoung’s heart softened and his frustration left him entirely. He remembered the time he had been pregnant with Haneul, and had had to fight all sorts of opposition to the decision of having his own child. Thus, with a coaxing smile, Doyoung went forward to crouch at his brother’s feet, and softly tried to explain, “I’m sorry, Jungwoo, I did not mean, at all, that you should not have this child. You should do as you wish. It is your choice, and yours alone, in the end. But what I meant was…what I’m worried about is….”
Doyoung trailed off, not wanting to upset his brother, because what he really thought was this, what he was really worried about was this—Jungwoo having to live his fate. Doyoung was worried that he had been wrong, that the Sillan prince was simply untrustworthy, that he had once again made lofty promises to his brother, only to get him pregnant this time around.
The Goguryeon king did, deep down, regret his decision to give Mark Jungwoo’s address now. What sort of a man would even think to have a child in the situation that the Sillan prince was in? His kingdom in flames, his throne in jeopardy, his people in strife…how could Mark not have realized that what he was doing, when laying with Jungwoo without precautions, was an utterly irresponsible disservice to Jungwoo? His brother must have been all out of sorts, Doyoung was sure, but the Sillan prince should have kept his wits about him? Because how was Jungwoo to birth and raise his child, unwedded, while Mark was off fighting for what could be years? Complete ignominy it was for a Goguryeon Royal to live like this, and Doyoung knew, he knew how terrible people’s talk could actually be, because he had been through this himself. Mark should have known better, and if he did not, then Doyoung had no choice but to keep as low of an opinion of Mark as he currently did.
But he also knew that all this would upset Jungwoo, and he could not find the right words either. Yet somehow, his brother understood, anyway.
“You do not have to worry, hyung,” Jungwoo gently said, “He will return. I know he will. He won’t leave me to raise our child alone.”
Despite his brother’s words, Doyoung couldn’t help but worry. Jungwoo reminded him, a little too much, of himself, pregnant with Haneul, telling his father with full conviction that his betrothed would return. Doyoung was worried, because his betrothed had returned, and had only left because Doyoung’s own father had made him. But Doyoung could not guess at the Sillan prince’s intentions.
Still, for his brother’s benefit, Doyoung waited. He wrote to the Sillan prince encrypted messages, which took much longer to be received and deciphered, but the Goguryeon and Sillan sides could only commune in this manner as war raged on. Goguryeo had aligned itself fully with Silla, Buyeo had taken that as a direct insult and had aligned itself with Baekje, and now split in half, the Peninsula experienced the most intense battle fury it had in decades. In the middle of all of this, was his brother, getting further along, his belly rounding, the glow of pregnancy flushing his cheeks, and light nerves gracing his features every now and then. They had received back only a one-word message from Silla, that once deciphered, had simply been “Received.” Doyoung knew war was not a time to indulge in writing, but a reply indicating only receipt of his letter worried the Goguryeon king to no end.
By virtue of Goguryeon troops regularly going into Silla, Doyoung still obtained some updates, and wartime strategy was continuously discussed between Goguryeo and Silla. That was how Doyoung knew that this was not a conflict that would end quickly, or easily, not when Mark was still struggling to regain control in his own kingdom.
Indeed, as Jungwoo’s due date approached, Doyoung grew only more worried. The stresses of war planning, rationing, and governing were already enough on their own. During this time, it was only his husband who kept the king sane. It was Jaehyun who took care of the children, and of Doyoung, too, when Doyoung grew too preoccupied. It was Jaehyun who told him not to worry, to not feel guilty or feel as if he was “neglecting” the children, as Doyoung once confided during a particularly difficult time, and to rest assured that Mark would return.
“And how do you know that?” Doyoung asked him, one night, the two curled up on the divan in Doyoung’s study. Doyoung had not had a wink of sleep in three days, and Jaehyun had come in, seen him nearly passing out on his feet, and had insisted that he lie down this minute.
“Red tulips,” his husband murmured then, shifting his hold so that they lay even closer together, “Do you know what they represent?”
In a near catatonic state, because Jaehyun’s scent was just so soothing, and he was so tired, Doyoung had to wrack his brain hard before he could mumble sleepily, “I’m not sure. Passion and love?”
“Undying love,” Jaehyun corrected.
Doyoung’s eyes slowly blinked open, and he took a mellow breath in.
“Don’t you think someone who’s promised undying love will return, no matter what?” Jaehyun hummed.
Doyoung exhaled softly, and then burrowed in closer to his husband’s warmth. He felt his heart ease up a little, because if he couldn’t believe Mark, Jungwoo, or even himself—
He could believe Jaehyun.
*
Mark was not there for the birth of his daughter. Doyoung could sense the overwhelming sadness in his brother, hidden behind layers of happiness and nerves and fatigue, all so very fitting for a new mother. But because it was a joyous, bless’d thing—the birth of his niece, the sight of Jungwoo cooing and fretting over his daughter, Jaehyun’s beaming smile when Doyoung would carefully deposit into his arms the little bundle of joy, the utter silence of awe and wonder that first befell Hwayoung, when she saw such a tiny thing, even tinier than herself, wriggling about, the somber look on Haneul’s face, when he must have realized that he now had the responsibility of being the caring protector and guide to two young ones, the tears, perhaps of guilt, definitely of love, in his father’s eyes—, Doyoung did not prod around, lest he bring his brother’s sadness to the fore.
Still, Doyoung himself, was quite saddened. Minerva*, as Jungwoo had chosen to name his daughter after much reservation, because Mark had not replied to his letter about choosing a name for their child, was now two months old. Doyoung felt the same kind of pity for his niece that he had felt for his own son, as both babes had remained deprived of the sight of their own father. But the king could only hope, that Minerva would not have to go as long without seeing her father as her older cousin had his.
Things did look bleak, however. Youngho had recently informed Doyoung that reports of a great upheaval in the Sillan Palace had been coming in. Communication with their Sillan allies had only gotten more difficult, but Goguryeo was continuing to monitor the situation and send reinforcements in, as many as they could spare given the two-front war that Goguryeo fought herself, with both Buyeo and Baekje. Doyoung had tried to keep Jungwoo partitioned from these details, but his brother was, of course, smart enough to sense these things on his own.
“Is there…some news, these days, regarding the Sillan Palace?” Jungwoo asked one day, cradling his daughter in his arms whilst trying to maneuver a piece of dry bed into his mouth. Smiling a small, fond smile, because the king remembered this—remembered how those first few months meant sleepless nights and only enough time to shove a piece of bread and gulp down a cup of tea here and there—, and so offered to take his niece into his own arms to allow Jungwoo to eat more comfortably. They sat in the gardens, not because Doyoung had time to dally about, but because Jaehyun had insisted he take his work outside to get some fresh air and sunlight (given that he was getting none these days). Carefully taking the swaddled babe in his arms, and beaming wide at her serenely sleeping face, Doyoung turned to his brother’s question.
A few beats of hesitation later, Doyoung said, “We have some…reports, of a change of hands.”
“Not…out of Sillan control, you think?” Jungwoo asked, worried, before placing the piece of toast down on his plate.
“I can’t say,” Doyoung sighed. He looked down at Minerva when he felt the babe stir in his arms, and gently hushed his niece back to sleep.
“They would…exile Mark, wouldn’t they?” Jungwoo questioned then, softly.
“Yes, they would, if he lost control of the throne,” Doyoung answered, his voice soft with worry, too—and fear, because being exiled was, after all, not the worst case scenario for a fallen crown prince. That was death.
“He’s fine, I’m sure,” Doyoung quickly tried to reassure Jungwoo, knowing that his brother’s mind had also gone to territory too dark, too terrible, if the quiver of his mouth as he looked at his daughter was anything to go by. Jungwoo looked too afraid, too grieving, running a gentle hand over his daughter’s head, before he took her into his own arms once more.
“Have hope, Jungwoo,” Doyoung so said, looking down at his niece, too. The sweet thing remained fast asleep in the cradle of her mother’s arms, entirely unaware of the tumult her father’s kingdom— her kingdom—was experiencing. For the sake of Minerva, Doyoung hoped, too, that her father would return.
Three weeks later, mail from Silla came.
On the envelope, was affixed the seal of the Sillan crown, and underneath it, the seal of the Lee family. Doyoung rushed to open it, and found inside a letter from the king of Silla. He was confused at first, and then thought perhaps the Sillan king had indeed recovered to such a degree where he was able to initiate correspondence on his own behalf, but that confusion was cleared quite swiftly as he reached the end of the letter:
“…We** end this correspondence with an ask, for the hand of the Second Princess, Jungwoo, of the Kim clan, of Goguryeo, in marriage, to Us, Minhyung, of the Lee clan, of Silla, King and Supreme Ruler of the Land of Silla, with all the powers and authority vested upon Our person by the great people of Silla, and for rightful paternal custody, over Minerva, born to the Second Princess and Us, upon Your Majesty’s acceptance of Our ask, and subsequently upon Our matrimonial with Minerva’s mother.
Signed, on this Nineteenth Day, of the Eighth Month, of the Hundred-and-Thirty-Sixth Year of the Lee Dynasty,
—King Minhyung.”
Doyoung sat back in his chair, taking in everything he had been told in Mark’s letter. The traitors had been rooted out. Lee control had been solidified over Silla once more. Baekjean forces had not only been repelled but had also suffered heavy defeat, thus retreating entirely. Mark’s father had abdicated due to his poor health, and Mark had been crowned king in his stead. Youngho also came to Doyoung’s study a short while later to inform him that Buyeo had just now asked to begin peace talks, following Baekje’s defeat.
In all effect, the war that had consumed the entire Peninsula was over in less than a year.
As he heaved a sigh of relief, and went over to give his brother the good news, Doyoung decided that he would have to ask, and perhaps learn from, the Sillan prince—the Sillan king, now, how he had managed to bring about the most decisive military victory in the history of the Peninsula within eleven months.
***
Almost three months old now, Minerva usually slept quite peacefully in the late mornings (after keeping her mother up the entire night), but today, she did not sleep a wink. Dawn had broken hours ago, and yet Minerva still fussed about in her mother’s arms, whimpering inconsolably.
“She probably doesn’t want to miss her father’s arrival,” Doyoung snorted, getting a tired chuckle out of Jungwoo. The king closed a scroll he had been reading at his desk and stood up, before coming around to where Jungwoo sat. Doyoung cooed at the precious babe, letting her hold his finger in her tiny but strong grip. Even her beloved uncle’s coaxing did not soothe Minerva. She only blubbered more, so with a sigh, Jungwoo stood up to rock his daughter in his arms.
That had Minerva hush but only for two minutes, and Jungwoo felt near tears himself now, as he groaned, “She may not want to miss her father’s arrival, but I will pass out if she stays awake until eve.”
“Have strength, Jungwoo,” his brother only chuckled some more, before suggesting that Jungwoo leave Minerva with her attendants to at least get something to eat. But Jungwoo knew there was no soothing his daughter today, and she would only cry in her attendants’ care, too. Jungwoo did understand his child’s fret, because he felt it too. His betrothed, Minerva’s father, was to finally return by sunfall, after months that had stretched on for eternity, a year that had felt like a lifetime. In half a day now, Mark was going to be here, with Jungwoo, with their daughter. Wait was terrible, but wait when relief was near was agony.
His joy was to return in some hours now, and all Jungwoo could feel was agony, as nigh was the end of the sleepless nights worrying over Mark, over their love growing inside of his womb, Jungwoo’s soul, his precious Minerva, who had not given her mother an iota of grief while in his womb or during her birth. But Minerva fussed and wailed now, flailing her pudgy limbs about in Jungwoo’s arms, and she did not quieten, or sleep, not for a single minute, leaving her mother completely worn out as the hours passed. But they did pass—they passed, those terrible, agonizing hours, and when the hour of Mark’s return came, when report was received that Mark had entered the Palace City, and when his arrival at the Palace gates was announced, Jungwoo waited those last few minutes with bated breath. He stood in the Main Courtyard overlooking the Palace gates. Minerva, in his arms, was wide awake, yet solemnly quiet all of a sudden, as if she knew that it was right here that her mother had bid her father goodbye all those years ago, and it was right here, that her father had promised undying love.
Jungwoo had fashioned a little brooch for Minerva out of the tulip hairpin, that he wanted to give to his child when she was older and could wear the brooch safely. For now, Jungwoo had chosen to pin the brooch to his own gown. The brooch against his heart, Jungwoo took in a breath of anticipation when the gates opened, and in the next breath, his betrothed atop his steed came through those gates.
A tear fell, unbidden, down Jungwoo’s cheek. Minerva had started to wail again. Jungwoo held his daughter more securely in his arms, and stayed rooted in place, taking in the sight of blonde hair fluttering in the wind, a sharp face glowing under the last of the reddening sun, and an easy smile that widened as Mark drew nearer. Jungwoo still did not move, even when Mark had climbed off of his horse—Mina, Jungwoo recognized with a sniffle—right in front of Jungwoo, leaving the reins to an attendant that had run up to assist him. The rest of the distance Jungwoo covered, with a weak couple of steps and a broken sob, into Mark’s open arms.
“Oh, my darlings,” Mark wrapped his arms around Jungwoo’s shaking frame and breathed into the tiny space between them, the space that Minerva filled. He kissed Jungwoo’s wet cheek, before withdrawing his arms then, but only to reach towards Minerva and look wetly at Jungwoo.
“May I?” Mark asked, in the most fragile of whispers, and Jungwoo puffed out a breath of laughter through his tears because what sort of a question was that, before nodding and depositing their bundle of joy, their Minerva, carefully into Mark’s outstretched arms. Jungwoo watched with a beaming smile as Mark’s eyes widened with the softest, most sparkling of wonders in them, as he took in his daughter, and there it was—the second of looks on Mark’s face that Jungwoo would never forget for the rest of his days, when he fell in love, with his firstborn.
More tears fell then, all of joy, from Jungwoo’s eyes, as Mark made marveling observations about Minerva, from how tiny she was, to how she looked exactly like her mother (which she did), to how precious she was, before he pressed a tender peck to Minerva’s forehead.
The little babe, for her part, had gone completely quiet once more, which Jungwoo pointed out with a teary laugh, “She finally quietens in her father’s arms.”
Those words had Mark falling in love all over again, it seemed, as he held Minerva even closer to his front, and cooed at the babe, wet gravel in his voice, too, “So you give your mother a hard time, then, sunshine?”
Jungwoo exhaled contentedly, “No, she doesn’t—was just a little fussy today. Probably knew you were coming, and couldn’t wait any longer.”
Mark looked at him then. The evening sun shone bright in his brown eyes. Jungwoo fell, too, in love, all over again. And from the soft smile on Mark’s face, it looked like he had, too, as he gently wiped Jungwoo’s face dry before wrapping an arm once more around him and bringing him close. Minerva still filled the space between them, but Mark had shifted her to his other side, so Jungwoo could place his hands on Mark’s heart, next to the pendant Jungwoo had noticed immediately, and snuggle in close when his betrothed joined their mouths together in a long, languid kiss. When Mark pulled away, the most infinitesimal of distances, Jungwoo realized he was still falling.
His eyes as if love in red bloom, Mark murmured, “I certainly gave you a hard time, though, didn’t I?”
Softly chuckling, Jungwoo shook his head, before placing a lingering kiss on the corner of his beloved’s lips.
“No,” Jungwoo said, smiling as he pulled away, “You gave me love—undying.”
Mark’s tender gaze fell down to where the tulip brooch was pinned on Jungwoo’s front, just as Jungwoo softly added, “And you came back, to me and Minerva.”
Mark smiled wide, in that way, that told Jungwoo, that he had something, very plainly obvious. But there was so much love in that smile that it made Jungwoo’s heart bloom—and bloom harder, when Mark posed, “If not my north stars, whom else would I seek out?”
At that, Jungwoo sighed with honeyed joy. The clouds of grief had cleared, and shining with the North Star once more, the night sky was about to break—
—into dawn.
*
[Three months later]
It was Jungwoo’s first night at the Sillan Palace, and it felt undeniably odd. Certainly the new environment did not help, but perhaps it was also the entire day of titles and curtsies and extreme custom that Jungwoo had been on the receiving end of, all of course stemming from the fact that Jungwoo was now king consort—ruler over every single person in the kingdom of Silla, alongside his husband. Mark and he had wed two months ago, in Silla, and his coronation ceremony had happened immediately after. Jungwoo had only spent that one day of his wedding, and his coronation, in Silla, before returning to Goguryeo and winding up his life there. Tears had been shed and goodbyes had been exchanged when it was time to move permanently to Silla, and now, here Jungwoo was, on his first night in his new home, getting out of the large marital bed for the umpteenth time because he couldn’t sleep. With nothing else to do, the king consort checked on Minerva, who tired from the journey had immediately fallen asleep as soon as her tiny body had touched her cradlebed in the adjoining nursery. The babe slept still soundly, so after carefully fixing her mussed coverlets, Jungwoo returned to his marital chambers.
Mark had yet to retire to their bed. A new king, he still had heaps of work to attend to. As far as Jungwoo knew, Mark spent most nights burning the midnight oil in his private study, and Jungwoo wondered if he’d have to spend the entire night bereft of his husband. Duties were of paramount importance, and a monarch had to always keep their kingdom above all else; all that was true, but Jungwoo couldn’t help the pining sigh that left him as he tossed and turned in the large bed, that felt even larger with Mark’s absence. He and Mark had not had the luxury of spending the night of their wedding together, so Jungwoo felt inclined towards thinking of this as their wedding night. He thus longed for the embrace of his husband—for his warmth, his touch—for them to spend their wedding night in each other’s arms.
But duty oft required sacrifice, so the Sillan king consort lit the candles and retrieved a text to read in bed, instead of going in search for his husband and asking to be loved all night long.
***
Clutching tightly behind his back the thin jewelry box that finally had seen the light of day after a month of being locked in a drawer in his private study, Mark hurried down the long hallway to his marital chambers. He was already grievously late, he knew, but monarchical duties had kept him tied to his desk much longer than he had intended, for this night. It wasn’t his wedding night, per se, but it was the first night that Jungwoo, now his lawfully wedded husband, was spending here, in Silla, after their wedding. And Mark had felt awful for much of the day, leaving his north stars in the care of the Palace attendants, but a bevy of urgent tasks had come up, and he simply couldn’t get away. So he hurried now, only nodding curtly at the attendants’ greetings of “Your Majesty,” before quietly slipping inside the nursery first.
Minerva was asleep, of course. A twinge of guilt went through Mark, for his precious babe had gone to sleep without even seeing her father’s face. Mark curbed a guilty sigh, lingering by his newborn’s cradlebed. But just the sight of the serene look on his daughter’s face, and the entire existence of her, that a being as precious and blessed as Minerva had been bestowed upon him, had the Sillan king smiling wide and indulgent soon. Because he did not want to disturb her sleep, all he allowed himself was a loving caress over his daughter’s tiny fist, and a few more minutes marveling over her sleeping form, and her entire existence for it truly humbled Mark at times, before he turned away quietly.
Mark also had Minerva’s mother to make up to, after all, and he suspected that Jungwoo might still be awake. His husband, indeed, still was.
“Oh, it was you in there,” Jungwoo said, halfway out of bed already, “I was wondering if I was just imagining things.”
Closing the doors behind him, Mark apologized, “Sorry, darling, did I wake you?”
“No, I couldn’t sleep,” Jungwoo smiled and pointed to a text on the bedside table, “I was just doing some light reading.”
Mark nodded, but it seemed that it was at this moment that Jungwoo noticed him clearly hiding something behind his back. A coy smile that made Mark’s heart beat faster graced Jungwoo’s features.
“Whatever you’re hiding,” Jungwoo gestured, “Is that for me?”
His husband had taken on a rather suggestive pose sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands and crossing his legs. His silky outer robe had tantalizingly slipped off of a shoulder, and there was of course that delectable expanse of leg peeking through the slit in the sleeping robe. If Mark had been a baser man, he would have thrown the jewelry box to the side and pushed his husband back on the bed to have his way with him, but he was not, he was a well-principled gentleman even in the face of such incredible temptation, and moreover, he was a husband who had left his spouse all alone on what wasn’t even technically their wedding night, because that, Jungwoo had spent traveling back to Goguryeo with Minerva, so all Mark did now was approach Jungwoo with an apologetic expression. He went down on one knee at Jungwoo’s feet to present his tribute. But Jungwoo’s eyes had widened with surprise—of course, because a king was never to kneel. Never. But being that he was king, Mark could choose to disregard a few rules. And at any rate, Mark could kneel, for his kingdom in battle, or for his husband in the privacy of their marital chambers, for those two he considered above even his kingly self.
But Jungwoo might have felt awkward, for he protested, “Mark, as king, you shouldn’t—,”
“For you, my love,” Mark ignored his husband’s advice and clicked open the jewelry box to reveal the necklace inside.
Jungwoo hushed, immediately. A look of complete dazzle came over him, then, and Mark felt his heart swell with love and joy, and a little pride, for himself, for managing to find a gift enchanting enough for his husband.
“Oh, Mark, this is exquisite, ” Jungwoo marveled, lifting up the necklace so very carefully, it warmed Mark’s lovefool of a heart. A small gasp came from Jungwoo then.
“Are those…tulips?”
Mark’s smile widened.
“Yes,” he replied, for indeed, nestled between the gold and other precious gems were intricately embellished rubies in the shape of a tulip flower. Mark had spent hours with the finest of Sillan goldsmiths, carefully choosing designs and materials. He’d always felt terrible about the fact that the only thing he’d ever gifted his beloved was that plain tulip hairpin, from a small cornershop. Indeed, at this moment, Mark reiterated his desire, his promise, in an indulgent murmur of words, “Didn’t I tell you, sweet, that all of the earth’s gifts should be at your feet?”
Jungwoo took a few seconds to recall, it seemed, but he eventually did, placing the necklace back into its box and chuckling, “A hairpin would have sufficed, my love, you needn’t spoil me like this.”
Mark took great offense at that, “Preposterous, you deserve only the finest gifts, jewels, silks—,”
But the rest of Mark’s words came out as a muffled sound of surprise when his husband surged forward to kiss him. Jungwoo drew apart after a brief moment, and with stars twinkling in his doe eyes, stars that Mark dreamt of, he smirked only an inch away from Mark’s tingling mouth, “So do I deserve to have the entire earth emptied at my feet?”
Mark understood from the playful heat in his gaze that Jungwoo was only jesting, likely turning kittenish with arousal, as Mark had learned his husband was often wont to do when he was simmering with desire and need, but the Sillan king was only honest, entirely guileless, when he answered, softly, “Yes. I would empty the universe for you, if I could.”
The stars in Jungwoo’s eyes shone brighter. Need overtook his husband entirely, Mark could tell, so he placed the necklace aside, and followed his husband’s light, into their marital bed, and loved his husband, all night long, for his North Star deserved the earth, the universe, and every speck of Mark’s love, for eternity.
***
(Epilogue)
Jungwoo often thinks about those years. The ones he’d spent aimlessly searching for “the one.” He also thinks about the years he’d spent being miserable with Insung. Today, as dawn has given way to a gorgeously sunny sky outside the windows of the kingly chambers, Jungwoo only smiles in deep contentment. It all worked out. Jungwoo needn’t have worried at all. Fate has been more than kind to him, keeping his beloved’s kingdom safe from fall, giving him back his beloved, blessing him with the sweetest of children, Minerva, and blessing him once more, now. Jungwoo’s smile widens when his husband, still asleep, shifts behind him, gathering him up closer in his arms, and his limp hand comes to rest on Jungwoo’s belly.
Mark doesn’t know yet. He returned late last night from a visit to the barracks, so Jungwoo decided to break the news to him in the morning. Morning has come. Jungwoo can barely contain his excitement, so he shifts around in Mark’s embrace, and snuggles in close. He lays a few open-mouthed kisses on his husband’s jaw, burrows into the crook of Mark’s neck to place some wet kisses there. As always, his touch is enough to wake his husband up.
As always, Mark opens his eyes and looks upon Jungwoo with wonder. Jungwoo still can’t quite understand why Mark always looks at him as if he’s a dream. One day, he would ask this, ask Mark why it is so hard for him to believe that Jungwoo is his reality, but for now, he just places a hand on his love’s cheek and smiles amusedly, “Aren’t you going to get up now?”
Mark blinks the wonder out of his eyes to hum, “It’s still early morn.”
“They aren’t to arrive until noon,” Mark groggily adds, shifting to lie on his back and taking Jungwoo with him. Always boneless in his husband’s arms, Jungwoo goes and rests against Mark’s front.
“But I wanted to attend to a few things before Doyoung hyung arrives,” Jungwoo whines in response, whilst fighting the urge to fall back asleep on Mark’s chest. Mark hums, but does not say anything. Jungwoo thinks that his husband might have fallen back asleep. So to wake him, Jungwoo inches upwards and whispers in Mark’s ear, “By the way—I had a checkup with the Royal Physician yesterday morning. I’m pregnant.”
Mark’s eyes fly open.
“I—really, my love?” he asks, his eyes wide and his grin wider. Jungwoo laughs out a yes. Mark rolls him over, kisses him all over, making Jungwoo laugh more, until they’re cocooned once more in each other’s warmth, lying on their sides, facing each other.
“Minerva is going to be over the moon,” Mark exhales happily, and Jungwoo grins, “She will.”
Minerva, since she could speak, has been expressing her sincere wish to have a sibling. She feels particularly envious of her cousins, Jungwoo thinks, but Mark and Jungwoo’s duties have kept them…apart, at least to the end of trying consistently for a child. Plus, Mark has spent the years since his ascension as king steadily working towards winning over the public’s favor once more. Having a second child in these times has simply not been possible. But they’re here now. Jungwoo is pregnant with their second child, four years after the birth of their first. His husband’s kingdom and his now, Silla, is thriving, and no danger looms in the horizon that could take his husband away from him. Mark would be here, hopefully, for his second child’s birth.
Biting his lower lip, Jungwoo places a hand on his belly and looks at his husband, “This one…you choose their name.”
Jungwoo has always felt the tiniest bit of regret that he and Mark couldn’t have chosen Minerva’s name together. But his husband, as always, consoles him, cradling his cheek, “You chose the most wonderful name for our Minerva. And, yes, for our newest one…,”
Mark smiles and places a gentle hand on Jungwoo’s belly, “…we can choose a name together.”
At that, they gather close. It is entirely too blissful—this, the warmth they share, the air shimmering around them with joy, with hope, with love, as they talk softly, with eyes sparkling, of this new addition to their family, of their future.
It is soon time to, finally, rise from bed. They do so with more kisses exchanged, with wide smiles—especially from Mark, who cannot stop placing pecks over any inch of exposed skin he can find of Jungwoo’s. They decide to tell Minerva the good news later, because they are not sure if their daughter would be able to contain her excitement and thus dutifully listen to her attendants as they ready her for the arrival of her uncle’s family, from Goguryeo.
Minerva is to come with them, actually, to accept Doyoung and his family at the pier. Laughter and warm embraces are had all around, at the pier, when the two families meet as the Royal ship carrying the Goguryeon king docks and out comes the Royal family.
“Oh my, how tall you’ve grown, little one!” Jungwoo can’t help but exclaim in surprise when he sees his nephew, who at fifteen, really has had quite a bit of a growth spurt. Jungwoo saw him only a year ago, but teenaged boys grow in the blink of an eye, Jungwoo supposes.
Haneul protests, “Uncle, I’m not so little anymore!”
Jungwoo indulgently smiles, “To me, you’ll always be little.”
Putting his arm around his son’s shoulders, Doyoung chuckles, “Oh, I remember a time when I used to tell your uncle exactly that, but he wouldn’t want to hear it.”
Jungwoo puffs out a laugh at that, and so it begins, as it always does whenever the brothers meet (which isn’t as often as either of them would like it)—reminiscing happily, laughing over childhood shenanigans, and regaling the children with stories from the past.
It’s only when they return to the Palace, and after a happy affair of a lunch, that Jungwoo and Mark break the news to their guests. They’re all having wine in the lounge sans Jungwoo (and sans the children, who have gone to the training grounds under Haneul’s chaperoneship), and it is, actually, Jungwoo’s lack of indulgence that has his brother looking curiously at him. So Jungwoo takes his husband’s hand, and with mutual understanding communicated only with a silent exchange, the expecting couple asks for the Goguryeon king and king consort’s attention.
“We’re…more than thrilled to announce that we are…expecting,” Jungwoo says, with a small, bashful grin on his face. Doyoung gasps and jumps up from the sofa, coming over to hug Jungwoo immediately. Doyoung then moves to hug Mark, and Jaehyun gushes out his congratulations in the meantime. This news adds even more joy and jubilance to the atmosphere for the rest of the day, and when Jungwoo and Mark finally tell Minerva of this good news, an hour or so before her bedtime because they don’t want her to stay awake from the excitement, the sweet thing chirps and giggles, her blonde waves bouncing up and down, and hugs her parents.
Life is all joy. So much of life, is all joy, and in this moment, here, with his family, seeing the absolute delight on his daughter’s face, Jungwoo thinks once more, that there is no night that does not break into dawn. His night has broken, all into dawn, all without his own doing, and that’s true, even if his completely enamored husband believes wholeheartedly that Jungwoo is the North Star, and showers him with so much, that Jungwoo is afraid Mark may really empty the earth and the universe for him.
Jungwoo lets him.
