frostburn

by spearbreaker

Summary:

In exchange for his kingdom, Chan is offered the most beautiful man in the world.

Notes:

hello, dear reader! welcome!

as you can see from the tags, this fic is inspired by the world of 'a song of ice and fire' aka 'game of thrones' aka 'house of the dragon' aka dragons! kingdoms! political marriages!

if you're unfamiliar, i can assure you that you do not have to have read or seen any of the original work to understand this fic! if you can imagine what a dragon looks like, you're good to go!

for those of you who are familiar with g.r.r.m's works, have you ever wondered what would happen if aegon's conquest was led by a maniacal twink? well, you're about to find out!

enjoy!! <3

Chapter 1: solar flares for your dead gods

In the sixth year of summer, dragons descended upon Winterfell. 

Screams and curses rose in the air as the first of the giant shadows swept over the castle, all clamour soon drowned out by the screeching roars of the beasts. Chan counted three, one for every dragonlord that had come to take his crown from him. 

“Holy shit,” Chan could hear Changbin breathe behind him. 

Chan knew his people to be strong and fearless, but he couldn’t blame Changbin for faltering. He himself felt his knees shake. At that moment, he seriously wondered whether it was a blessing or a curse that his father had died the year before.

On the one hand, Chan wished there was someone else, someone as strong and unfaltering as his father had been, who could have stood in his place. On the other hand, Chan was grateful his father did not have to see what dreadful ending had come for them. 

Chan had grown up dreaming of being a great king. He’d dreamt of leading his people through even the harshest of winters. He never could have imagined that the biggest enemy he could face would come in the form of scaly, fire-breathing beasts descending from the sky. 

Not that they weren’t beautiful. 

Awe mixed into the screams of terror as the first of the dragons landed. It was as tall as a mountain and black as the night, its talons ripping huge holes in the western wall of the castle. Since the dragon was too big to fit inside the courtyard, it had to perch on the wall. Morghon, Chan knew the dragon was called. Death, without any other monikers to make light of the fact that this was what it brought. 

As the King in the North, Chan put on a brave face. As a human, Chan trembled before the beast. It was just so huge. A single sweep of its spiked tail could have taken out a hundred of his men at once. Chan understood then why five out of seven great houses had bent the knee so far. What king, in good faith, would have unleashed such a beast upon their people? 

And Morghon was only one of three.

A synchronised set of screeches drew his attention to the two other dragons that were circling in the sky, descending fast. They were smaller, each only as tall as a two-story barn so one of them did land in the courtyard while the other perched itself on the Eastern wall, opposite of its brother. 

Chan swallowed as he took in the second wall-sitter. The dragon was a vibrant green, shimmering like the most precious of gemstones, or the most venomous of snakes. Thin, spiked skin rose around its neck like a ruffle as it screeched. Several of the noblemen gathered inside the courtyard fled from its vicinity, moving closer to the dais on which Chan was standing. 

As if he could have helped them.

Chan wished he would have known how. 

“Do not yield,” Minho said to his right. His face was stricken with grief. Whether for Chan’s kingdom or his own, Chan didn’t know. He supposed it didn’t make a difference. 

Another, trilling screech had Chan focus back on the courtyard, on the dragon which had landed right in the middle of the crowd. For the first time since a monstrous roar had announced the arrival of the conqueror and his brothers, Chan truly couldn’t find another breath in his lungs. The third dragon was not only terrifying, it was also beautiful. Covered head to toe in golden scales, it looked like a piece of the sun itself had struck the earth. 

“Oh, wow,” Changbin echoed his thoughts. 

“Do not yield.” Minho grabbed onto the sleeve of Chan’s fur coat, sounding desperate this time.

Despite the fear lacing his bones, Chan smiled at his friend. There wasn’t any more he could offer Minho before Morghon roared and they were forced to face the inevitable. Slowly, Chan descended the dais, watching as the dragon riders descended their beasts in turn.

Despite the fact that the golden dragon was closest to him, it was the conqueror who reached him first. His black dragon extended its long neck until its head hovered above the earth in front of Chan’s feet, allowing the conqueror to slide down the length like a child might have slid down the side of a hill in winter time. The conqueror landed a lot more elegantly though. 

As with his dragon, the people which were gathered in the courtyard hurried to get out of his way. Chan could tell that it amused the conqueror. A grin split his features. Because he was dressed in the same midnight black colour as his dragon’s scales, Chan had struggled to make out the man when he’d still been on top of his beast. Seeing him up close, Chan could tell why people had not only whispered tales of terror about him. 

Like all dragonlords, the conqueror was cursed with silvery white hair and purple eyes. He wore the silver strands pulled back from his face, the solid black of his clothing making the abnormal colouring of his hair and eyes stand out all the more. Chan wasn’t surprised to see that the gods had left a Minho on him. 

He figured that only a man with divinity in his blood should have been able to tame a dragon.

“Bang Chan,” the conqueror called out, laughter in his voice as if they were old friends. Chan found it cruel. “I extend my greetings to you, King in the North.” 

Chan didn’t answer. He knew he was supposed to speak. Guest right demanded that he welcome the other man. He just…couldn’t. There was no breath in his lungs to speak, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. 

The conqueror’s eyes crinkled in amusement at Chan’s short-comings. 

“My name is Hyunjin,” he introduced himself as if Chan didn’t already know that. “This is my brother Jisung,” he pointed towards the man moving through the crowd, the hissing growls of the green dragon above warning off any of the onlookers. “And this is Felix.” 

It wasn’t until Morghon lifted his head that Chan had a chance to see Felix, to truly see the man who had come to cut out his heart. If there had ever been any air left in his lungs, it left him at once. 

Felix’s expression was trist and whether that was because he disliked the cold or the predicament they were in, Chan didn’t know, but it didn’t make a difference. Felix could have opened his mouth to reveal teeth as sharp as the fangs of his dragon and Chan still would have believed him to be the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. 

“Felix,” Chan echoed, finally finding his words. 

Hyunjin laughed, clapping his hands. “That’s right!” 

Chan was pretty sure he was being made fun of, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care. Hyunjin was strikingly handsome and so was Jisung, but looking at Felix felt like looking at a god. A new deity to replace Chan’s old gods. 

Chan couldn’t look away. 

For his newfound reverence, he received nothing but scorn. Purple eyes flayed him layer for layer before Felix looked away from him, stepping closer to his twin brother. Jisung grabbed Felix’s hand, visibly squeezing it before both of them looked towards Hyunjin. 

Chan should have done the same. It took him longer than it should have to look away from Felix. 

“Hyunjin,” he finally greeted. “Welcome to Winterfell.” 

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to be here! Your castle is as mighty as they say,” Hyunjin complimented, looking around like he was a young noble who’d come to sight-see and not the man who’d left a broad, bloody trail across the continent. “The North stands strong.” 

Chan nodded. He had no heart for flattery, especially not false flattery. It was cruel of Hyunjin to speak of Winterfell’s grandeur when half the western wall was crumbling under Morghon’s weight. 

“If you will, come and follow me into the great hall. We’ve prepared a feast to celebrate your arrival.” 

Guest right was sacred. If this was the night Chan was to die, then he would not anger his gods beforehand. He had to welcome the conqueror into his home. 

Hyunjin’s face lit up with happiness at the invitation and Chan was sure more than just one person in the crowd fainted at such a stunning sight. 

“Oh, that sounds wonderful! I can see that the tales of Northern hospitality are true! The journey up north was long, so a warm meal sounds just like what we need!”

Chan nodded, feeling a little numb as he motioned for Hyunjin to come along. He was not dumb enough to turn his back to the dragonlords completely so he let Changbin take the lead, walking next to the conqueror rather than in front of him. 

It put Felix and Jisung at his back, but Minho was still there. 

Hyunjin seemed delighted at the proximity Chan allowed him. He kept babbling about their surroundings, complimenting the architecture and people, acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world. As if he hadn’t come to destroy it all.

“Is this the pelt of a wolf?” he asked as they entered the great hall, tugging on the sleeve of Chan’s fur coat. “Did you kill it? Is that why they call you the Wolf in the North?” 

“Remove your hand from the King at once.” 

Their entire party came to a halt when Changbin did. Hyunjin’s brows rose to the middle of his forehead and just for a moment, Chan could see the dragon inside, could see indignance in the dragonlord’s eyes and an absolute willingness to tear Changbin limb from limb for having spoken to him like this. Like a candle flame snuffed out, it lasted no more than a split second before Hyunjin was grinning again. Of course, a dragon was only an overgrown snake. 

“Of course.” Hyunjin let go of Chan’s sleeve. “I apologise for my transgression, Ser…?” 

Changbin looked at Chan, who lightly shook his head. Changbin huffed and left them without another word. Hyunjin’s eyes trailed him like a dragon regarding its next meal before he directed a blinding smile at Chan. 

“He’s quite protective, your knight.” 

“Changbin would go to the death for me, as I would for him.” Chan looked directly into the other man’s eyes when he said, “It’s a trait you will find amongst many men in the North. We are loyal, and we are not afraid to die for our people.” 

Silence fell over their small party. Chan felt more than one pair of purple eyes stare at him. 

There was still amusement in Hyunjin’s gaze, but he looked a lot more somber now, as if he had to force himself to laugh. He’d clearly understood what Chan had just told him. “I see.” 

Chan nodded. Gruff, but he’d never promised to be anything else. 

“Come,” he said, because he was still not willing to anger his gods. “The feast has already begun.”  

*

Entertaining Hyunjin was harder than Chan had imagined. Not that he’d thought it would be easy. No, he’d even prepared himself for having to talk a lot. 

That burden, Hyunjin took off his shoulders. He talked non-stop and even during the times he just sat back and watched the feast go on around them, the satisfied smile on his face didn’t falter. It made any effort to entertain him on Chan’s part superfluous. 

What Chan was struggling with was to listen to him. 

His eyes were on Hyunjin and he managed to nod at the appropriate times, but his heart strained towards the opposite end of the hall, to where Felix and Jisung were sitting, having sequestered themselves from everyone else by the length of several chairs. 

The only one brave enough to sit with them was Minho, but Chan knew he wasn’t doing it out of the kindness of his own heart. He was probably wondering how he could poison the dragonlords’ cups without anyone noticing. Chan didn’t know whether he wanted him to be successful or not. 

He couldn’t help but look at Felix. There was this inane need inside him to marvel at the delicate design of his face. To count the freckles on his cheeks. In the same vein, his fingers itched to trace the intricately woven braids keeping his long, silver hair out of his face. Hyunjin’s chin-length hair was tied together by a simple strap of leather and Jisung’s hair was too short to be in any sort of do, but Felix wore his hair long. It complimented his face beautifully. 

Chan thought he was subtle about admiring him too, but of course he should have known better. He hadn’t been subtle a day in his life. 

“You seem very taken with my brother already.” Hyunjin smiled against the golden rim of his goblet as he said it. 

“He’s very beautiful.” There was no use in denying the obvious. 

Hyunjin’s smile widened. “You know, since both of my brothers told me they’d be willing to marry you, I thought I might have to offer you Jisung if Felix wasn’t to your liking, but it seems that your heart is set. That makes me quite happy to see.” 

Chan frowned. The callous way in which Hyunjin spoke about his brothers’ fate reminded him of who exactly the man next to him was. It reminded Chan who he was in turn. Who he had to be. 

“My heart is with my people. Their best interest is my only interest.” 

“I see.” Hyunjin perked up. “Do you want to go right into negotiations then? I don’t mind! The wine you have is only half as strong as what they offered me in the Riverlands. I’m still clear of mind!”

“There’s not much to negotiate, Hyunjin.” Do not yield, Chan reminded himself. “The North stands strong and independent.” He licked his lips to wet them, to fight against the dryness of his own mouth. A single sentence should not have been enough to doom himself and his people, and yet it was, “I reject your offer.” 

“Ah,” Hyunjin slumped in his seat in disappointment. Chan expected him to declare war right then and there, but instead he said, “Felix will be heartbroken.” 

At the mention of the dragon prince’s name, Chan had to inevitably look over. Felix was already looking at him, glowering like he wanted to burn Chan alive. 

“Doubtful,” Chan muttered. 

Hyunjin laughed. “I can see that you are a smart man, Bang Chan, and I do think you want to be a good king too. Hence and because I’m feeling quite gracious today, I reject your rejection of my proposal! We shall speak of it no further until you’ve given it more thought!” 

Chan spluttered. That’s not how it works, he wanted to tell Hyunjin but Hyunjin wasn’t done talking yet. 

“Think about it some more,” the conqueror said, purple eyes catching the light of the torches, “I think you might find that your heart’s desires can change.” 

What I desire is inconsequential, Chan wanted to say, but Hyunjin was already standing up and what use would it have been to try and explain that to the other man. 

Out of little more than whimsy it seemed, Hyunjin had taken ahold of nearly the entire continent. Five kingdoms had been brought to their knees because of one man’s heart being set on having them, and Chan’s was supposed to be the sixth. The thought alone made him grit his teeth. 

He was not going to bring ruin to his own kingdom because he desired one man, even if it was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen.

“I’m not going to change my mind, Hyunjin.” 

“We’ll see. I think you might find that we have more in common than you think.” Hyunjin’s smile persisted. “Now where is that guard of yours? I’d like to dance with him. See whether he’s as good with the rest of his body as he is with his tongue.” 

Chan blinked. “Changbin?”

“Changbin,” Hyunjin echoed. “Changbin!” he called out, pointing to where the man was standing in the far corner of the room, sharing a drink with a couple of his soldiers. 

Changbin choked on his wine when Hyunjin called out to him, the entire room falling silent to watch what the dragonlord was going to do. 

Changbin pointed at himself as if to ask, “Me?” and Hyunjin’s grin widened. For a moment, Chan imagined him to have fangs instead of teeth. 

“Yes, you,” Hyunjin sang, crossing the hall with long strides. 

Changbin handed off his cup to the closest man before he, Seo Changbin of Bear Island, Chan’s best friend, Chan’s bravest fighter, unceremoniously turned tail and fled. Hyunjin laughed as he ran after him, right out of the great hall. 

Outside of the castle, Chan could hear Morghon roar and he felt the distinct need to bury his head in his hands. 

*

No war was declared that night, but no truce was reached either. 

Chan felt his eyes burn with tiredness as he sat down at the war table in his room, a map of all of Westeros carved into the wood. 

Minho had already been in his room when he’d come in, sitting in his usual seat to the left of Chan’s chair. The incessant, anxious tapping of his fingers against the wooden table top was slowly but surely driving Chan to madness. 

“Hyung, can you stop that?” 

Chan could have kissed Jeongin’s fluffy head at that moment. Mostly because he was the only one that Minho was likely to listen to despite how stressed he was. Sheepishly, Minho pulled his hand back. Seungmin, standing behind Jeongin’s chair, let out a small sigh of relief. 

The last one to slink into the room was Changbin, looking a lot more meek than Chan had ever seen him. Jeongin outright laughed at him, 

“You look like you got eaten by a dragon, hyungie!”

“I almost did!” Changbin whined as he sat down to Chan’s right. His eyes were wide as saucers as he grabbed onto Chan’s hand. “The dragon king is batshit insane, hyung!” 

Despite the dire situation they were in, Chan laughed as he plucked several straws of hay from Changbin’s curls. “Did he chase you to the stables?”

“All around the castle, he did! I literally thought he was hunting me down for sport!”

“And what did he do when he caught you?” Jeongin asked, eager for the gossip. He’d pouted for days when they’d told him he wasn’t allowed to show himself during the feast and now he was eager to catch up. 

“Nothing much. He just demanded I dance with him. I told him there’s no music. He told me to make some so I hummed…” Changbin coughed in embarrassment. “I hummed and we danced and then I offered to take him to his room, but he said he promised to spend the night with his one true love so I kind of…just…got left behind there.” 

Chan bit his lip. Minho was looking suspiciously red where he was sitting. Seungmin placed a hand over his mouth. 

Jeongin had no such qualms. He laughed outright. “Aw, hyung, don’t look so forlorn!” 

Predictably, Changbin lunged at him over the table. “You want me to shorten you by a head’s length, eh? Maybe then you’d stop looking down on me, you insolent, little sh—!” 

“Enough!” Chan hit the war table twice with the palm of his hand and both Jeongin and Changbin sat back in their chairs. 

Minho hid his face in his hands, groaning, “So the dragon king is crazy. Good to know. That only worsens our problems times a hundred.” 

Chan bit the inside of his cheek, staring at the carved map. He might as well have painted all of it in black and red. “I told him I am not going to accept his proposal.” 

Minho lifted his head from his hands. “And what did he say?”

“He told me, in no uncertain terms, that I better reconsider.” 

Silence fell across the table. 

“What is going to happen if you don’t reconsider?” Jeongin’s question was soft. In the warm, orange glow of the firelight, he looked as young as he was. Chan felt acid rise up his throat. Jeongin was only five and ten. Too young to rule. Too young for Chan to leave him a kingdom of ashes. 

“We go to war.” 

“Would we win? I know they have dragons, but…we could win, right? The North is strong. Our army is one of the biggest on the entire continent!” 

“If it was just the dragons…maybe…” Chan shuddered at the mere thought of how many lives would be lost to the talons and teeth he’d seen today. And the dragons hadn’t even spit any fire yet. 

“But every kingdom south of the Neck has sworn fealty to Hyunjin. We’d be fighting five armies on top of the dragons. Our chances wouldn’t be good and there’s no one to call for help either. There’s no one left except for us and the Vale.”  

Everyone’s eyes briefly fell onto Minho, who looked decisively green as he stared down at the map table, tracing his fingers over the mountains of his homeland. He cleared his throat when he noticed them looking. 

“There is no sugarcoating it. If the North bends the knee, then the Vale will follow. Not as long as I’m alive, but I might as well let that dreadful green dragon eat me while I’m still here.” Minho laughed humourlessly. “Everyone knows what happened in Dorne.” 

A shudder went around the table. It was a testimony to the devastation Hyunjin had left behind that tales of it had reached the North. According to the whispers, the Dornish king, stubborn as ever, hadn’t bent the knee when Hyunjin had started his conquest in the Southern-most kingdom. He’d refused Hyunjin’s offer three times. After the third time, Hyunjin hadn’t just killed the king. He’d razed the entire Southern capital, leaving behind nothing but rubble and glass—glass because that was what sand turned into when you melted it with dragonfire.

Chan reached for his friend’s hand. “If you must leave…”

Minho shook his head, looking at Chan with tears in his eyes. “What good would leaving do me? I’d rather die here, with my friends, than wait for my death in the Eyrie.” 

Chan squeezed his hand. “Nothing is set in stone yet, Minho.” 

“Right, you still get to reject Hyunjin’s offer twice more before the dragon king burns us all to a crisp.” Changbin looked like he needed another drink. 

“What about the alternative?” Seungmin said. The Maester had been quiet so far, but Chan knew that there were a great many thoughts inside his head. 

“What do you mean?” Chan asked him. 

“You could accept the proposal.” 

Minho snorted. “That’d just be exchanging one dreadful fate for another.” 

“I mean…” Changbin cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t call Felix dreadful…” 

Minho glared at him. “I thought we talked about this! The North does not bend to the whims of a mad man! Accepting the proposal would just mean choosing a slow, painful death instead of a swift, honourable one! What’s the difference then?”  

“People,” Chan said, staring at the map table. Bile rose in his throat the longer he thought about it. Once more, he wished for his father. “The lives of millions of people are at stake, who did not ask for me to be their king and who did not ask for dragons to descend from the sky either. They did not choose who sits on the throne and I doubt they truly care. They will care, however, when their houses are burnt to ash.”  

“Hyung,” Minho said, “you can’t be serious.” 

Chan smiled at him, his friend who he could not blame for trying to save his own kingdom by sacrificing Chan’s. Minho had already said that he was willing to die here, with him. What more could Chan have asked of him? 

“The decision is yours, Chan,” Seungmin said quietly. “You are the King so you decide. We will follow you.” Seungmin briefly glanced at Minho. “All of us.” 

Minho nodded, looking nothing but defeated. Chan felt the same, though he didn’t get to show it. He smiled, if only so at least Jeongin would be able to sleep tonight. 

“It’s late,” he said, “and today has been an eventful day. Let’s see what tomorrow brings. We shall reconvene tomorrow night.” 

“And if Hyunjin demands an answer during breakfast?”

“Then I still have two more rejections left, like you said.” Chan smiled at Changbin. “Nothing catastrophic should happen until midday at least.” 

It were the light-hearted words of a man weighed down by immense worries. It was enough to dismiss his council for the night. 

Chan waited until he was alone before he finally started to shrug off the layers and layers of heavy clothing he was wearing. It got easier to breathe once he’d rid himself of all the furs and ornamental chains, but nothing managed to lift the stone sitting on his chest. 

Looking at himself in the mirror, he saw the open maw of a dragon every time he closed his eyes. 

*

Chan knew he should have gone to bed after the council meeting. 

It was already turning into the early hours of the morning when he admitted to himself that sleep was not going to happen for him that night. There was too much that was weighing on his mind, the pressure behind his eyelids making him open them over and over to get rid of the feeling. 

Eventually, he gave up on sleep and put his clothes back on. A morning walk ought to help him clear his head, even if it was still dark out. Stepping out of his room, he found that it was quiet in the castle. Even the last of the stragglers from the feast must have found their way into their beds by now. Chan was glad for it. The night guards he passed greeted him with quiet mumbles of his title. They, too, were unwilling to disturb the quiet of the night. 

Chan made sure to smile at every single one of them he passed. All he received in return were looks of trust, of loyalty. His men trusted their King. Chan had to pray that their faith in him was not misplaced. 

His feet led him to the godswood without it being a conscious decision. Going there meant he had to cross the western wall of the courtyard and Chan marvelled at what he found looking out into the lands. The hills right outside the castle walls had gained another sibling. 

Like a mountain made from glittering black rock, Morghon was curled up in the valley between two hills. The black dragon’s right wing was folded to his side, but the other was half-extended. Chan wondered why the dragon was resting like that, since it couldn’t have been comfortable to keep one wing permanently bent at a weird angle, but then Chan caught a glimmer of gold underneath the half-extended wing, and then another glimmer of emerald even closer to Morghon’s leg. The other two dragons were as tall as houses respectively, yet they fit just perfectly under their brother’s wing. 

Something about the sight made Chan falter in his step. There was no denying that the dragons were dreadful, but they were also beautiful. Just like any other creature, they’d huddled together against the cold. What monster knew to protect another? 

Chan hastily moved along when Morghon lifted his head, a giant, slitted eye pointing right in Chan’s direction. He left the wall before the black dragon could decide to have him for breakfast. 

The entrance to the godswood lay right by the southern gate, leading to three acres of holy, ancient forest. Chan skimmed his fingers along the barks of the trees until he reached the heart tree. It stood in the very centre of the godswood, right by a small pond. To say that Chan was surprised to already find someone sitting there would have been an understatement. 

“Don’t touch the water! You don’t know what might reach for you in return!” 

Felix lifted his head, the hood of his cloak falling back to reveal his long, silver hair. Chan found that Felix looked even more incandescent in the moonlight, his hair glowing as if it was made from moonlight itself. 

Felix was quick to rise to his feet, his stance wide, defensive. Chan wanted to find that amusing, given the situation they were in, but then again, Felix’s golden dragon was far away. In the depth of these woods, it was Chan who was the wolf. 

He raised his hands to show that he bore no weapon. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I was just concerned about your well-being.” Because Felix’s stance didn’t relax, he added, “You do not need to fear me.”

Felix did relax at that, if only to puff up with indignance. “I do not fear you.” 

The way Felix was still closely watching his every move told Chan differently, but Chan was not going to point that out. 

“Good,” he said instead, aiming for a smile. 

Felix showed him his teeth in return. 

Chan deliberately turned away from Felix, leaving himself wide open for an attack as he walked over to the heart tree. Without any ornamental armour to weigh him down, it was easy to kneel. The face carved into the weirwood stared back at him, bleeding red sap down the white bark. 

A part of him waited for the sound of footsteps, either fast approaching in his direction or quickly running away, but it seemed that Felix didn’t know what he wanted to do. Or maybe he just wanted to watch. 

Chan wouldn’t persuade him to do either. 

He merely placed one hand against the bark of the tree and lowered his head. He strained his ears for any whispered words of guidance, maybe in the forms of the wind rustling the leaves, or sticks cracking deeper in the forest. All that he heard was the sound of a single step, then another, and then a body settled next to his. Chan opened his eyes to find a delicate hand pressing against the bark next to his own. 

“Is this how you pray?” 

Felix wasn’t looking at him as he asked. He was looking at the heart tree. Chan tried not to get lost in the thought of how close they were, how Felix was stealing his breath again with how beautiful he was. This close, Chan could make out the finer details of his face, the arch of his brow and the sharp cut of his jaw. 

Purple eyes met his own and he swallowed. “It is.” 

Felix smiled. Not at him, he was looking at the tree again, but it left Chan speechless all the same. Felix was beautiful, but when he smiled he looked otherworldly. 

“Do they listen? Your gods?” 

Chan couldn’t help but chuckle. “Do your gods listen to you?” 

Felix earnestly contemplated this for a moment before he shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t asked them for anything.”

Chan nodded. He supposed that made sense. What need did a person like Felix have for the gods’ opinion when he was bonded to a creature mightier than all others? 

He expected their conversation to end there, for Felix to get up and leave because what Chan was doing must have been boring to him, but he didn’t. He stayed right where he was. 

“What are you asking them for?” 

It was a simple question. One Chan should have expected, really. Yet, he couldn’t help but marvel at the genuine curiosity in Felix’s eyes. He couldn’t help but feel grateful at finally being regarded with something other than derision by Felix. 

“Guidance,” he answered truthfully. “I’m asking the gods for guidance so I will not lead my people astray.” 

Felix hummed, a deep, rich sound. “You should accept my brother’s offer then.” 

The way he said it was so nonchalant, as if it had nothing to do with him. As if it wasn’t him Chan was going to marry if he said yes. 

“Is that really what you want?” 

Felix snorted. “I’m not the one being asked.” 

Chan frowned. “ I am asking you. Do you want me to wed you? Is that why you’ve come here?” 

Felix showed him his teeth again. Chan couldn’t tell whether it was supposed to be a smile or a grimace. He couldn’t have guessed Felix’s next words even if he’d tried. 

“There were four guards stationed at the gate to these woods instead of the usual two. It made me curious. I wanted to know what could be so dear to you that you’re affording it twice as many guards as everything else, including the doors to your own chamber. That’s why I came here.”

Chan’s breath caught in his throat. How did Felix know how many guards were on rotation? How did Felix know how many guards were in front of his door? Just how much, exactly, was Felix paying attention to while Chan tried so hard not to look at him? 

“As for your other question…” Felix stared at the crying face carved into the heart tree. “I want you to say yes.” 

Chan exhaled deeply. He didn’t know why that single lie hurt him more than anything else Felix had said.

His own voice sounded foreign to his ears when he said, “In that case, I’m sorry to say that I have already rejected your brother’s offer.” 

Felix’s face didn’t change. He reached out to touch the bloody red sap, as if to wipe the tree’s tears. “So I heard.”

Chan expected Felix to finally get up, to let their conversation end there, but Felix didn’t. He remained kneeling right next to Chan, even if several long moments passed before he spoke again. 

“Am I not to your liking?”

Chan spluttered. “What? Why would you think that?” 

“The last king begged for an alliance like ours, you know?” Felix sniffed. “He would have been very grateful to be offered my hand.” 

“I’m…” …grateful, Chan couldn’t say, because was he? Was he grateful to be offered a pretty price for his kingdom? He didn’t want to lie to Felix. “I’m sorry if I offended you.” 

Felix huffed. “I’m not offended.” 

“Of course.” Chan cleared his throat. 

He didn’t think he could have heard the gods even if they’d yelled in his ear at that moment. His head was too full of Felix. It was embarrassing how out of his depth he was. 

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? My, uh, my non-offense?” 

Felix looked at him as if Chan was little more than dragon dung. It hurt him when it shouldn’t have. Here Chan was, sitting next to a man who was clearly plotting against him, and yet all he wanted was for Felix to smile at him again. 

Felix seemed to know this, allowing him a flash of teeth. “I already told you what I want.” 

Chan could do nothing but shake his head. “It is not a wish I can grant you, even…even if you are lovely.” 

The gods answered his prayer. Felix smiled at him again. Really, he looked like he was happy when he leaned forward, right into Chan’s space. 

“You’ll change your mind soon enough, Bang Chan,” there was a certain level of satisfaction with which Felix said the rest of his title, “Wolf of Winter, King in the North.” 

“I am the King in the North,” Chan felt something inside him harden at the reminder, “and because of it, you have to believe me when I tell you that the North will not subjugate itself to the whims of your brother.” 

Felix outright laughed at him. “My brother wants your fealty so he’s going to have it. Whether it’s you, or the one that comes after you—” Chan froze up at the thought of Jeongin. “—the North will bend the knee like all others.” 

The finality with which Felix spoke made Chan’s hackles rise. “You speak like things are already decided.”

“Are they not?” 

“No.” 

Felix’s smile widened. It made him look scarily similar to his brother. The gods tossed a coin every time a dragonlord was born, Chan remembered, deciding between greatness and madness. He didn’t dare think too much about which side Felix leaned towards. 

“It is true what they say about you, Bang Chan.” 

“And what is it that they say about me?”

Felix no longer looked at him like he was dragon dung. “They say you’re a true-born son of North. That you are as stubborn as a block of ice, but not as harsh as the winter winds. They say you are going to be a great king.” 

Despite himself, Chan felt himself soften. “I hope to see the day.” 

What Felix said in return, he did not say in the common tongue so Chan had no chance of understanding him. All he had to go off of was the look in Felix’s eyes, burning like a thousand wild fires. 

Chan looked at the weirwood tree to escape it, even if he knew it was far too late for that. 

He was caught. 

Chan didn’t know what else to say, but Felix seemed content to just sit and watch him. Maybe he was imagining all the ways in which he could’ve flayed Chan alive. Maybe he was imagining the spectacle it would’ve been if he had fed Chan to his dragon. 

However much dragonfire he seemed to carry inside himself, Felix’s body turned out to be human. It took several minutes, but then he started squirming. Chan thought Felix was angry at first, but then it happened again and again. Belatedly, Chan realised why Felix had spent the past minute sniffling.

“Here.” He quickly took off the fur coat he was wearing and draped it over Felix’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. I should have remembered that you’re not used to the cold.” 

Felix looked like he had some choice words for Chan at having realised so late, but he swallowed them all in favour of wrapping Chan’s coat around his shivering limbs, pressing his face into the soft fur lining. He spent a good minute like this, rubbing his face all along the collar in a way that reminded Chan of the kittens Jeongin had found in the stables the year before. That was, until Felix suddenly lifted his head. 

“What about you?”  

Chan shrugged, feeling a little sheepish. “I’m used to the cold. It doesn’t bother me much.” 

Felix glared at him as if he was accusing Chan of lying, but then he shrugged it off, focussing back on rubbing the feeling back into his face. 

Chan rose to his feet, offering Felix his hand. “Come. I’ll take you back to the castle. The fires in the great hall are never put out so it’ll be warm in there.” 

Felix looked up at him, purple eyes narrowing in suspicion, but he took Chan’s hand. His fingers were icy cold so Chan wrapped his warmer hand around them. As they made their way out of the godswood, Chan kept holding onto Felix’s hand only because it was the right thing to do. 

He wouldn’t have wanted the dragon prince to get frostburn. 

He wasn’t sure how quickly dragonfire could melt ice after all. 

Notes:

now that's a start! a chilly one but a start! there's no need to worry, really, since dragonfire can melt even the iciest of hearts :D

if you liked this story so far i'd love to hear what you think below! a comment and a kudos is always appreciated <3

more writing stuff on my twt

Chapter 2: how I feel when I'm at your side

Notes:

Ao mijegon dārōñe, valonqar. = You lack grace, little brother.

They were no longer holding hands when they entered the great hall. 

Chan was fine with that. It was enough to know that Felix was no longer cold. He’d stopped shaking once they entered the castle, which meant that Chan had successfully brought him back in one piece. In that, he fulfilled his duty as a good host. That had to be enough, and it was. 

“Felix.” 

Felix, who’d been visibly eyeing the table he and Jisung had sat at the night before, turned to him with curiosity in his eyes. 

Chan was a king so there had to be some part of him that was greedy. “Would you…keep me company while I eat?” 

Felix’s surprise was overshadowed by the pleased curl of his mouth. “Is that what you desire, My Grace?” 

It’s ‘Your Grace,’ Chan didn’t correct. For some reason, he felt like Felix knew that already. 

“Yes, it’d…it’d be quite lonely otherwise. To break fast by myself, I mean.”

That wasn’t a lie. Because it was so early, there weren’t a lot of people gathered to eat yet. The sun had barely risen above the castle walls. 

Chan didn’t squirm as Felix stared at him. He simply stood where he was, waiting for an answer. No matter the way his heart thundered in his chest. 

Felix’s beautiful lips stretched into an even more beautiful smile. He lightly bowed his head. “Of course. Thank you for inviting me to join you.” 

Chan blinked several times. “My pleasure.” 

Since he had to lead Felix there, Chan finally forced himself to look away from Felix and over to the raised wooden dais that was reserved for himself and any guests of honour. 

His heart nearly stopped when he spotted Hyunjin in the same seat as the night before. Normally, Chan would have been concerned about Hyunjin having seen Felix and him come in together. Seeing Felix next to Chan, wearing his fur coat, would have undoubtedly given Hyunjin the wrong idea and a renewed sense of hope for the union between Felix and Chan, but Hyunjin wasn’t looking in their direction at all. He wasn’t alone on the dais like he should have been. 

In Chan’s seat sat the only person who had the right to do so and Hyunjin seemed to have a great time entertaining himself by squeezing the merry life out of him. 

Chan hurried over before he could form another thought. “Hyunjin!” 

Hyunjin turned his head, face lighting up with joy. “Bang Chan! The King has come to join us! It is good to see you this morning.” 

“Likewise,” Chan hurried to say. “I must apologise. Had I known you’d get up so early then I would have been here.” 

“Oh, don’t worry! Your little brother has kept me great company so far!”

Chan had to try really, really hard not to look at Jeongin at that moment. It would have given too much away. He could feel Jeongin look at him, though, wincing in apology. 

Chan wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. It was Chan’s. He was the one who’d told Jeongin to stay out of sight. He was the one who’d told Jeongin to come to the great hall early for breakfast so he would not be seen. Who could have known Hyunjin would rise with the sun when they’d gone to bed so late?

Chan forced a chuckle out of his throat, even if it tasted acidic. “I’m glad to hear it.” 

“Little Jeongin here is such a delight, really!” Hyunjin briefly looked at Jeongin before his eyes slid right back to Chan. Chan didn’t like the knowing look Hyunjin regarded him with. “It’s such a pity that he was sick yesterday. You could have introduced us earlier! Really, I was so surprised to find him sitting in your chair. You didn’t mention you had a brother…”

A hiss. “Hyunjin.” 

Chan hadn’t even realised Felix was standing right behind him. An involuntary shiver went through his body when Felix’s arm brushed his own as Felix took another step forward. Like this, they were standing right next to each other. 

“Felix.” Hyunjin smiled at his little brother. His next words were in Valyrian. 

Felix’s answer was too, but Chan could see the fire in his eyes. The two dragonlords weren’t arguing, but their tone was unusually frosty. All Chan understood were the words “child” and “wolf.” He felt like the next time someone one of them opened their mouths, they might actually spit fire. 

Very aware of the hand Hyunjin still had on Jeongin’s shoulder, Chan took a step forward to redirect Hyunjin’s attention toward himself. It also allowed him to cover Felix, if only partially. 

“My apologies, Hyunjin. I wasn’t aware you didn’t know about Jeongin. I would have introduced you to him upon your arrival, but because of his…sickness, I thought it better to keep him away from people.”

Hyunjin hummed. Even more than the contemplative look on his face, it scared Chan how Jeongin was looking between the two of them. His blood froze in his veins when Jeongin reached out to tug on Hyunjin’s sleeve. The way Hyunjin’s attention immediately snapped to him filled Chan with dread. 

“Hyung!” Jeongin’s grin was as charming as ever, his tone sickly sweet in a way he normally refused to talk in unless he was begging Seungmin not to make him do arithmetics. “Tell me! Is it true that dragons can eat a whole sheep at once?” 

Hyunjin’s entire demeanour changed at the mention of his dragon. “Oh, Morghon can eat a whole horse in one bite if he so pleases!” 

Jeongin let out an awed, little noise. “That’s amazing!” 

Hyunjin cooed at him, grabbing onto his cheeks to squeeze them. It took every ounce of self-control that Chan possessed not to jump over the table and wrest his brother from the conqueror’s arms. 

“If you wish, I can show you sometime. Given that you have some livestock to spare, of course.” 

Jeongin’s eyes widened in surprise. The fact that he wasn’t slapping away Hyunjin’s hands away from his face was a testimony to how much better of an actor he was than Chan. “But it’s not dangerous, is it?”

“Of course not. Nothing is going to happen to you.” Hyunjin’s entire expression was good-natured until he met Chan’s eyes. “I promise dragons aren’t dangerous to little wolf pups like you. You’re too small to eat.”

If anyone else had said that, then Jeongin’s hackles would have undoubtedly risen, but as it was, he merely nodded along to whatever Hyunjin was saying. Chan could only marvel at how quickly Jeongin had dissolved the tension at the table. It seemed that the little boy running after him, swinging a wooden practice sword, had grown up quicker than Chan had noticed. 

Not quite quickly enough, though. 

“Bang Jeongin!” 

Chan felt like the gods had come to put their hands over his family after all when Seungmin appeared between the doors of the great hall, striding towards the dais with single-minded focus. “Are you evading your History lesson by making nice with our guests?” 

“No, hyungie, ouch!” Jeongin whined when Seungmin pinched his ear and effectively dragged him out of his seat. 

For just a split second, his and Chan’s eyes met while Seungmin did it and Chan could see that Seungmin wasn’t unaware of what was going on. He was doing it on purpose, forcing Jeongin to safety under the guise of being his maester. Chan could have kissed him. 

For a moment, Chan was scared that Hyunjin might insist Jeongin stick around, but he looked nothing but amused by the play Seungmin and Jeongin were putting on. 

“Goodbye, little wolf!” Hyunjin waved after them. 

Chan walked around the table to sit down next to him before his attention could waver anywhere else. Hyunjin smiled at him for his efforts, looking truly elated. There was no longer this underlying threat in his eyes, or maybe he’d just decided to play docile again. 

One could never know. 

Chan was distracted by Felix moving. His heart soared when he saw that Felix sat down to join them. His heart sank when Felix chose the seat next to Hyunjin instead of him. 

Hyunjin watched Chan struggle with thinly veiled amusement before he picked up a meat skewer from one of the dishes in front of them. His teeth were blunt as he pulled the first chunk of braised meat off the stick. 

“I must say, your little brother is adorable, and so witty too! He reminds me of Jisung when he was that age.” 

“Speaking of,” Chan jumped on the chance to move their conversation away from Jeongin, “I haven’t seen much of your brother yet. Where is he?” 

“Oh, Jisungie prefers to spend his time out in the open. He’s not very fond of being confined inside the walls of a castle so he’s probably taking Tyvaro for a morning ride before he’ll grace us with his presence.” 

“Tyvaro?”

“His dragon,” Felix explained, stealing one of the skewers from Hyunjin’s plate.

Chan couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of the large, green beast. Out of all three dragons, Tyvaro had behaved by far the most aggressive towards his people. “That’s…a beautiful name.” 

Both dragonlords chuckled and Chan couldn’t help but feel as if they were laughing at him. 

Hyunjin seemed to notice his discomfort. “Apologies, Your Grace. It’s just that Tyvaro means ‘snake’ in our language. Jisung named him when he was one and ten so he wasn’t very creative.” 

You named your dragon Death, Chan didn’t point out. Judging by Morghon’s size, the dragon had to be centuries old which meant that he’d probably already had his name when he’d bonded with Hyunjin. He wondered what that felt like, being chosen by a beast so much older and more powerful than one’s self. Maybe that was the reason Hyunjin had gone mad.

“I still like it. I think it’s good to name things as you see them.” 

“A good quality for a king to have!” Hyunjin praised him. “You should tell Jisung about your findings. He’ll be happy to hear it.” 

“Don’t.” 

Felix didn’t yell, but he’d spoken louder than Chan had ever heard him. Chan was already looking at him, but this time Hyunjin turned his head to look at him too. Felix blinked as if he himself didn’t know why he’d spoken so loudly. 

He cleared his throat before he met Chan’s eyes. “You don’t need to tell him. I can tell him. I’ll…I’ll tell him for you.” 

Chan furrowed his brow. Was there a reason Chan wasn’t supposed to talk to Jisung? Was Jisung moving against him while they spoke? Maybe he wasn’t just taking his dragon for a joyride like Hyunjin had said. 

He couldn’t outright accuse the dragonlords of such a thing, though. “Thank you,” he said, well aware that he sounded colder than before. 

Felix glared at him in response before he busied himself by picking apart the skewer on his plate.

“Ao mijegon dārōñe, valonqar,” Hyunjin muttered under his breath, smiling as he took a sip of his wine. 

Felix threw his empty skewer at him. 

*

The King’s room was a smaller chamber off to the side of the throne room, holding little more than a large table, a sufficient amount of chairs and a fireplace taller than Chan himself.

Because of said fireplace, it was cozy warm inside the King’s room in a way the throne room never was. Because of said fireplace, this was where Chan held the first official meeting between him and the conqueror who’d come to take his kingdom from him. 

He was relieved to find that he and Changbin were the first ones to arrive. 

Changbin had slunk into the great hall a full hour after the sun had come up. He’d frozen when he’d spotted Hyunjin and looked very much like he wanted to turn tail and flee again, but in the end his duty towards Chan had won out. He hadn’t left Chan’s side since, even if that meant withstanding Hyunjin’s not so subtle attempts at drawing him into a conversation. Chan pitied him. 

They both had just sat down when Minho came in. 

Unlike before, where Minho would’ve worn the usual grey linen and fur as every other Northman, he was dressed in rich Vale blue. Representative. 

“Do not forget what you’ve already decided,” was the first thing he said. 

Chan suppressed a sigh. “A good morning to you too, Min.”

Minho only grunted and sat down next to him. Chan knew his friend was being prickly because he was anxious so he took the time to cover Minho’s twitching, twiddling fingers with his own. 

“Do not fret, Minho.” 

“How could I not?” The desperation in Minho’s voice was outright, which in itself was a testimony to how unsettled Minho was. “They say the Eyrie is impenetrable and we are , but they have dragons, hyung. There's only one type of beast in the entire world that could reach as high as my home and they own three of them.” 

And that was the crux of it all, was it not? Their defences, whether North or South or East, were all built to withstand armies, but no army compared to the strength of a dragon.  

“Whatever happens, I will bring this to a good end.” Chan squeezed the clammy hands covered by his own. “I promise you, Minho.” 

Despite himself and how dire their situation looked, Minho smiled at him. Chan smiled right back. They were going to be friends until the end, Chan knew it. Before Minho could say any more, the door opened. 

It was amazing really, the way the air in the room seemed to change every time the dragonlords entered. Inadvertently, Chan’s eyes sought out Felix. He looked as stunning as ever, dressed in the black of his house with a blood-red cloak to keep him warm like Chan’s fur coat had done. The thought made Chan feel a little hot behind the ears, especially because that same fur coat was draped over his own shoulders right now. 

He wondered whether Felix thought about it too, but it was hard to tell because Felix wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at Chan’s hands, still covering Minho’s. The sour expression on his face made him look like he’d just bitten into a lemon, his eyes darting anywhere but Chan’s face as he took a seat next to his brother. 

It was only Jisung who didn’t sit. Unlike Hyunjin and Felix, the third of the dragonlords walked over to the window, facing the outside as if nothing that happened inside the room had anything to do with him. 

Chan could feel Changbin’s hackles rise at the blatant show of disrespect and Minho next to him scoffed under his breath, but Chan wasn’t going to comment on it. He’d long since given up trying to understand the way the dragonlords’ minds worked. If Jisung was more interested in the view than sitting at the table which negotiated all their futures, then far was it from Chan to call him to order. 

It was already hard enough splitting his attention between Hyunjin, who he had to negotiate with, and Felix, who…who drew him in in other ways.

“Bang Chan,” Hyunjin crowed at that moment as if he’d heard Chan’s thoughts, “I hope you had some time to rest after breakfast.”

Chan hadn’t, given that he still had royal duties to fulfill no matter whether they had visitors or not, but he wasn’t going to tell Hyunjin that. He doubted Hyunjin would have found discussions about the best way to distribute the kingdom’s grain supply very gripping. 

Luckily, Hyunjin moved on rather quickly, “And Prince Minho! It’s an honour to finally meet you. Unfortunately, we didn’t have much time to get acquainted last night. I must say, I’m relieved to know you’re here. Since all the letters I’ve sent to the Eyrie have been left unanswered, it’s good to finally be able to speak with you directly.” 

Minho looked like he wanted to spit at Hyunjin. He looked like he, like Chan, hadn’t slept at all. Instead of answering Hyunjin, he turned his head away, which Chan honestly counted as a victory. 

Hyunjin didn’t seem perturbed. If anything, he seemed endeared. Chan wondered whether there was anything he ever took seriously. 

“Right,” Hyunjin clapped his hands, “we should get started then, no?” 

Chan nodded, pointing towards the stack of letters on the table between them. “This is all the correspondence you sent before your arrival, including your last letter in which you’ve made your…offer.” 

Hyunjin’s eyes flicked up to him in amusement. “Very diligent of your maester, to keep all of it. And have you had time to reconsider the answer you gave me last night?” 

Involuntarily, Chan looked at Felix, who was already looking at him. His expression was carefully neutral, giving nothing away, but Chan saw the fire in his eyes. Felix wasn’t showing Chan what he felt, but he felt it all the same. It was very hard to look away from him. 

Chan couldn’t, even when Hyunjin continued on, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m offering you my brother’s hand in marriage. A decision that ought to be quite simple, no?” 

“A royal marriage is never simple,” Minho spat. “It comes along with loyalties and that’s what you want.” 

Hyunjin smiled at him. “If you want to put it that way.” 

Chan was still looking at Felix. Tell me what you want, he wanted to ask. Tell me whether this is something you’re forced into. 

Felix didn’t tell him anything. He didn’t even say anything. I want you to say yes. Chan couldn’t decide the fate of his kingdom based on a lie. 

He forced himself to meet Hyunjin’s eyes. “My loyalty remains with my people. I am their King. Because of it, I have to decide what is best for them.” 

“Ah,” Hyunjin smiled, “a perfect non-answer. Spoken like a true king, really.” 

Chan reminded himself not to lose his temper. “What I’ve just said is merely the truth. I live to protect my people. They come first.” 

“You’re speaking as if I’ve come to declare war on your kingdom.” 

“Is war not what you’re threatening me with?”

Hyunjin’s smile was beatific, as if the thought had never even crossed his mind. “I can promise you that war is not what either of us want.” 

“So you are admitting it,” Changbin cut in, “you’re going to declare war against us if King Chan refuses your offer.” 

“I just told you I have no intentions of going to war with the North.” Hyunjin’s smile was incandescently bright as he smiled at Changbin. “You have to listen when I speak, my darling knight, not just stare at me.” 

Changbin turned such a deep shade of red Chan was seriously worried for his best friend’s well-being for a moment. It looked like Changbin was going to burst where he stood, whether from anger or embarrassment was hard to tell. 

Chan cleared his throat before that could happen, forcing Hyunjin to look at him. “But you’re not denying it. You will take rule over the North one way or another.” 

“My offer is one of peace. I’m not here to depose you, Chan.” 

Chan’s brow twitched when Hyunjin addressed him so casually, without formality or title. Because he didn’t have to, Chan realised, because Hyunjin was above five of the seven kings already. 

“If you accept our proposal, I promise you that you will get to keep your crown and your throne and your title as King in the North. No war has to happen at all. It is merely an oath of fealty that you swear to me. Swear it, and I swear to you that no man or woman or child of the North will have to fear for their lives, not at my behest. On the contrary, you will gain a very powerful ally.” 

Chan sat back in his chair, rubbing his temple. It all sounded very tempting: Bend the knee, save his people, wed Felix. Wed Felix.

Chan looked at the man, who was already staring at him. I want you to say yes . Chan wished he could have looked inside the dragon prince’s head. He wished Felix would have given him just a single sign of his true feelings on the matter. 

But he didn’t and so Chan couldn’t be sure. His father had raised him on strict principles of honour and devotion. You have to be a good man to be a great king, Chan-ah. 

He had to force himself to look away from Felix so he could ask, “And if I swore fealty to you without marrying your brother?”

The air inside the room turned freezing at once. Hyunjin’s expression wasn’t the only one that fell. 

“Chan!” Minho gasped. “You can’t seriously be entertaining this!” 

Chan couldn’t allow himself to pay his friend any mind. He couldn’t look away from Hyunjin because if he did, then his eyes would have inevitably wandered over to Felix. He didn’t know what would have devastated him more, if he found that Felix was in pain or full of relief. 

The perpetual flicker of joy in Hyunjin’s eyes was extinguished when he said, “I fear I must insist that you fulfill both parts of the agreement should we come to one. I need your oath and for you to accept my brother’s hand.” 

Chan furrowed his brows. “Why?” 

“Because,” Minho sneered, “if you don’t marry Felix, he has no shackle with which he can tie you to your word.” 

Hyunjin looked a lot like his dragon, terrifying and filled with fire when he said, “Do not involve yourself in this, Princeling,” 

“Of course I have to! You want to place your serpent brother on the throne so you can slowly let him suck the life out of Chan!” 

“Watch your mouth!” The voice was so unexpected and foreign that Chan struggled to figure out who’d spoken for a moment. But then Jisung moved away from the window, heading right for the table. Heading right for Minho. “You call my brother a serpent again, I’ll show you how far the maw of a real snake stretches!” 

Before anyone else could get up, Felix did. 

The wooden legs of his chairs scraped across the stone floor and the sound was grating enough to make everyone look at him. At last, Chan had an excuse to look at him. At last, he saw that Felix’s expression was as stoic as ever. It were only his hands that trembled as he reached for his twin. It was only the sheen in his eyes, which might as well have been a trick of the firelight, that gave away that he felt something. 

Whatever Jisung saw in his brother’s eyes was enough for him to abandon his attempt at lunging at Minho over the table. He grabbed Felix’s hand like he’d done in the courtyard the day before. 

Felix turned to Hyunjin. “I’m going to retire to my room early. You know my wishes.” 

Hyunjin nodded. “Felix,” he said and then something in Valyrian that made Felix smile at him. It wasn’t a happy expression. 

Felix didn’t spare anyone else—didn’t spare Chan —another look before he left. Jisung stuck to his side like they’d been born attached at the hip, blubbering away in anger. Jisung was speaking Valyrian, but Chan understood him. Not every single word, but the ones that mattered most: “ Burn them all.”

With his heart thundering in his chest, Chan wondered whether Hyunjin was considering it. The conqueror sure looked like it where he was sitting sunken into his seat, his fingers pressed together in front of his face. Chan could only stare at him. He knew he was supposed to speak, supposed to say something that would save them all, but he could think of nothing. Nothing but the tremor to Felix’s hands as he’d clung to his brother. 

Hyunjin let out a big sigh and then he was standing too. The smile on his face was grim, a grotesque imitation of his usually playful expression. “I think it might be best if we postpone this meeting until everybody’s temper has calmed down.” He stared directly at Minho as he said it. 

Chan placed a hand on Minho’s shoulder and pushed him back into his seat when Minho tried to get up. Chan thanked all the gods when Minho didn’t try to open his mouth again. Small blessings. 

“You’re right.” Chan inclined his head. “Thank you.” 

Hyunjin smiled at him and it looked just a tiny bit more real. Chan could only hope it was enough for Hyunjin to decide that the North did not deserve the same fate as Dorne. 

“An offering has been made, Wolf of Winter. Take a couple of days to think about it.” Hyunjin’s purple eyes fell to Chan’s chest, to the very spot his heart was sitting uncomfortably in his chest. “Think about what it is you stand to lose and also what it is you stand to gain. All of it before you have none of it.” 

Chan felt his heart drop to his knees at the open threat. Changbin next to him let out a small gasp. 

At once, the light returned to Hyunjin’s eyes. “Ser Changbin,” he sang, “I’d like for you to accompany me back to my rooms. I fear I’ve forgotten the way. You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

Changbin looked like he would have rather reached into a pit full of vipers, his face as grey as the wall behind him, but he caught himself quickly. In the end, he was always going to do what was necessary and that was why he was so indispensable to Chan. 

“Of course.” Changbin got up slowly, leading the way to the door on steady feet. “Follow me.” 

Hyunjin did, taking with him the tension filling the room. 

Chan drew his first real breath only after the door had fallen close behind them. 

“Chan!” Minho piped up the moment it had, but didn’t get any farther when Chan raised his hand. 

He knew Minho had some things to say to him. Everyone did. That was what happened when you were king. 

As king, Chan allowed himself just a moment where he buried his face in his hands and mourned all that he could have accomplished had he been better at being one.

*

Chan saw none of the dragonlords for the rest of the day. 

By the time dinner rolled around, the only sign if their presence had been Morghon, lifting into the air around midday. Chan had wondered whether Hyunjin had changed his mind and this was going to be the end of his kingdom, but the giant black dragon had returned after a couple of hours, without fanfare and no horsemen reaching Winterfell, speaking of devastation across the land. 

Chan supposed he should count himself lucky. He didn’t quite feel like he was when he spent dinner amongst his men with not a dragonlord in sight and no purple eyes pulling him in, pulling him apart. 

*

Night had broken by the time Chan returned to his chambers. 

He barely managed to peel himself out of his clothes before he fell face-first into his bed, groaning into the pillows. All the sleep that had evaded him during the night before seemed to catch up to him now, eager to pull him under. 

Despite the uneasy knot in his stomach, this itch under his skin to make sure and make sure again that all things were in order, Chan let himself fall. He knew there was no use in torturing himself. He needed to sleep when it found him otherwise he might’ve never rested again. 

He slept and while he slept, he dreamt. It was rare that he had dreams and even rarer that he dreamt of something he’d be able to remember when he woke up. That night was different. 

In his dream, he was high up in the sky, higher than any man should be. He was also powerful. Real magic, blood magic thrummed under his skin as he spread his arms wide, but his arms weren’t arms at all. They were wings, carrying him higher into the sky with every beat. He was so mighty. He was so much bigger than he used to be and yet it was not enough. 

“Soves, Solar!” a shrill, terrified voice yelled from above him. “Dracarys!” 

Chan roared. His entire being burned with the command, burned like the fire in his throat. Because he was terrified too, he released it. Flames lit up the sky as he exhaled, a thousand voices joining the one of the boy. Screams and terror and a sea of glass below him. Unlike the boy, his boy, the screams stopped as he doused the city below in fire. 

Chan roared again and turned away, turned away from it all. There was this inane need inside himself to protect. Because of it, he had to take himself and the boy far away. 

Behind him, the deafening roar of a beast even mightier than him echoed across the land, joined by another voice, then Chan’s own. He beat his wings and rose higher, knowing that it’d be long before he’d find another safe place to land.

*

Chan awoke to the quiet sound of footsteps.

Now, given that he was a king and people surrounded him all day long, that wasn’t an unusual occurence. It wasn’t day time though and there should not have been another person in his room. An intruder, then. 

Pretending that he was still asleep, he slowly slid his hand under his pillow. A deep exhale escaped him as his fingertips found the hard, cold handle of the knife he kept under there. Rolling onto his side with a quiet snore, he grabbed onto the handle. 

The footsteps neared his bed. 

Chan kept his breathing slow and even. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to jump up and fight the intruder head-on, but he had to wait for the right moment. 

Fingertips traced the line of his brow, his cheek before they trailed down to his neck. It was then that Chan grabbed onto the intruder’s arm and pulled. A scream rang in his ears, but Chan was already on top. He pinned the intruder to his mattress with their arms above their head and his knife to their throat, hastily blinking against the darkness in the room. 

Silver filled his vision, then gold, then purple eyes boring right into his own. 

Hastily, Chan lifted the knife. “Felix?” he asked in disbelief. 

Felix glared at him, straining against the grip Chan had on his wrists before he seemed to realise he was overpowered. Chan blinked again, throwing his knife onto the bedside table so he had a hand free to pinch his own side,  just in case he was still dreaming. Felix didn’t disappear. He was really here. In Chan’s bedroom. In the middle of the night. 

“What in the gods’ names are you doing here?” 

Felix’s golden skin took on a rosy undertone. He squirmed, but Chan didn’t think of letting him go. He was awestruck, not stupid. 

Tightening his grip on Felix’s wrists, he leaned over him, unable to contain the growl slipping from his throat. “If you want to kill me, you shouldn’t have hesitated.” His skin still tingled where Felix had touched his face. 

Felix’s eyes widened. “I-I haven’t come to kill you.” 

Chan wasn’t impressed. He scoffed. “Why are you here then, sneaking into the king’s bedroom in the middle of the night?” 

Felix squirmed again, his eyes flicking up to the grip Chan had on his wrists before he searched Chan’s face all over. He seemed to gauge whether Chan was going to hurt him. 

Chan sighed. “I’m not going to hurt you if you tell me the truth.” 

As a sign of good faith, Chan let go of Felix’s wrists. Immediately, small hands pushed against his torso, but Chan wasn’t going to move until he had answers. Felix seemed to realise this too because his entire being deflated when he realised he couldn’t push Chan off of him. Not unless he wanted a real fight. 

“Can you get off me?” he asked in the most demanding, most spoilt tone Chan had ever heard. 

It made Chan reconsider the knife on the bedside table. It made his cock twitch in the confines of his pants. Chan thanked all the gods that he’d spared the last of his energy on pulling on a loose pair of linen trousers before he’d fallen into bed. Felix could count himself lucky that it was too cold to sleep naked, even for Chan.  

“Depends. If you’ll tell me why you’re here, I’ll release you at once.” 

Blunt nails dug into the planes of his stomach before Felix’s hands fell away onto the mattress. Looking up at Chan with round eyes, Felix looked deceptively vulnerable. “Please,” he said. “Chan.” No title, no formality. As if they were so close. 

Chan sighed and lifted himself off of him. “Go back to your own room now, Felix.” It hurt to smile but Chan forced himself to do it all the same. “Try again tomorrow, if you must. I’d like to sleep now.” 

Felix sat up at once, his entire body trembling. It must have been the cold. Felix was wearing the same blood red cloak he’d worn to their meeting, but the gown he wore underneath could only be described as flimsy at best. It was some thin, gauzey black slip-on that was clearly made for warmer climates. He might as well not have worn anything with how clearly Chan could see the outline of his body. 

Chan glues his eyes to Felix’s face. He could absolutely not allow his eyes to wander any lower. 

He was genuinely surprised at the anger in Felix’s voice, the wet sheen in his purple eyes when he pushed against Chan’s chest. “Am I that despicable to you?” 

Chan was so surprised that he didn’t react in time when suddenly, he found himself on his back and then it was Felix on top of him, trying to pin Chan to the mattress with all his weight. It honestly wasn’t much, but Chan was too stunned to throw him off. 

“Felix—”

Hands pressed down on his chest as if Chan’s lungs weren’t already collapsing. It was too much. Felix was too close to him. He was so close the ends of his long hair tickled Chan’s chest. The world shrunk to the size of his beautiful, beautiful face, their breaths mingling. Worst of all, Chan could smell him. Felix smelled like the sun. 

“You desire me! I know you do! I can see the way you look at me so why won’t you—” Blunt nails dragged down his stomach, reaching dangerously low. “Why won’t you just—”

“Felix.” With how rapidly his blood was rushing other places, it took a moment for Chan’s brain to catch up, but once it did, he managed to catch onto Felix’s wrists. “Stop this madness at once. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but—”

“Is it because your affections already belong to the Prince of the Vale?” The hatred in Felix’s voice was palpable, a thousand fires glimmering behind his eyes. “Tell me, do you love him?” 

Chan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Minho? No. Gods, no. Why would you even think that?” 

“It is obvious that you care for him.”

“Because he is a dear friend?” 

The breath of a dragon fanned over his face. “I could be dearer.” 

“Felix.” Chan prayed to the gods that they might save him. “What— Why are you saying this? Why are you here?”

“Can I not be here because I want to be?” Felix was so close to him. Chan could see nothing, could feel nothing but him. Chan wanted to live in it. He wanted to live in him. 

It hurt tremendously. 

“In another life, maybe,” he forced himself to say, “but not in this one, Felix.” 

“But we are together in this one.” Felix’s smile was blinding. It was blood magic all on his own. 

In his bed, Chan was no king. He was only a man. He whimpered when soft, warm lips pressed brushed against his own. They were too dry for there to be any poison on them that would have made him do this, yet Chan couldn’t help but kiss Felix back. Helplessly, he licked along the seam of Felix’s mouth, begging for entry. Felix groaned, lips parting so Chan could taste him. 

Felix tasted like the sun too, and sweet like the precious tangerines that Chan had sent to the dragonlords’ rooms through the kitchens. 

“Felix.” 

“Shh,” Felix murmured against his lips, his hands roaming all over Chan’s exposed chest. His touch made goosebumps rise on Chan’s skin. His cock was fully hard and Chan knew Felix could feel that. He was shamelessly grinding against it. “Just let us enjoy ourselves. You want me, don’t you?” 

“I do.” There was no use in denying it. Still, Chan grabbed onto Felix’s waist to suspend the roll of his hips. “But we’re not doing this, sweetheart. I know you’re not here because you like me so much.” 

Felix frowned, as if he truly couldn’t understand why Chan wasn’t jumping his bones right now. “I like you well enough.” 

Chan ignored the way his heart stopped in his chest. He would have prepared a knife at that moment. 

“Well enough doesn’t cut it, Felix,” he said slowly. “I don’t want to ask again. Why are you really here? Please, do not lie to me.”

Felix pressed his lips together. 

Chan felt madness creep into his own mind. “If you think coming here and…and baring yourself to me is going to make me change my mind about your proposal, then I’m sorry to say that you’re mistaken.”

He wasn’t prepared for the open hurt that took over Felix’s features. “You really find me so repulsive?”

“Not at all.” Despite his better judgement, Chan pulled Felix close where he should have pushed him away. He was rewarded with Felix holding onto him in turn. “You’re lovely, Felix, so, so lovely, but I know you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t to persuade me to accept your proposal.” 

Felix huffed, averting his eyes. His hand not so subtly grazed Chan’s groin. “Is it so hard to imagine that I simply desire you, like one desires another?”

“Yes.” Chan smiled through his hurt. “Not in another life, but in this one we are not simply one or another. What we do, who we are, is not something we shed along with our clothes. Be honest with me now, or I will call out to the guards and they’ll drag you out of here kicking and screaming.” Because Chan couldn’t do it himself. 

When Felix looked up at him, there was no trace of derision in his eyes. Instead, Chan found desperation in them. Felix was trying to hide it, trying to appear calm, but Chan saw through him. They were too close for Felix to be able to pretend. 

His beautiful, beautiful dragon prince framed his face with trembling hands. “There is something you don’t know,” he whispered, right into Chan’s mouth so no one else could hear. 

Chan frowned, instinctively leaning closer. “What is it?” 

Felix shook his head, looking genuinely sad. “I can’t tell you about it. Not unless we’re married.”

“Felix…” 

“I want—no, I need you to accept my hand in marriage. Please. There will be no secrets between us once we’re married but until then…I can’t.” 

Chan shook his head, covering Felix’s hands with his own. “Tell me now. I promise you if it is so important to you, then I can swear to you I will not share it with anyone else, but you have to tell me.” Especially if it affects my kingdom. Especially if it affects us all. 

Felix shook his head. “You might say no. You might say no and then…if you know and you say no then Hyunjin won’t let you live.” 

“Hyunjin doesn’t have to know either.” It was a daring thing to suggest to Felix, but Chan had to try.

An unforeseen sadness overtook Felix’s features. He stroked Chan’s face as if it was dear to him, as if he truly wished for a different ending for them. “You misunderstand, Chan. I couldn’t let you live, either.” 

Chan’s breath caught in his throat. “Felix.”

“Think about it, please.” A taste of heaven as Felix kissed him once more. Desperate. “Say yes. If you say yes, I promise we’ll be happy together. Just because it’s a political marriage doesn’t mean we can’t be happy together. I promise you’ll live in bliss. I won’t…be as prickly and I’ll be loyal to you. I’ll protect what you hold dear as long…as long as you do the same for me.”

“Felix.” 

But Felix was no longer as close as he was before. He was sliding off the bed before Chan could string another sentence together. Whatever words Chan might have been able to find, they got stuck in his throat when Felix turned towards the door. Chan wanted to call out to him, but his throat was too tight to make much of a sound at all. 

Just before he slipped out of the door, Felix turned around once more to smile at him. 

Chan couldn’t stop him. He could do nothing but sit there, frozen in the middle of his bed. The door closed behind Felix and Chan wondered whether he had ever been there at all. Maybe Chan had dreamt him. He could have believed it if he hadn’t still been able to taste tangerines on his lips. 

Notes:

fun fact: because of the hostile climate which makes growing them locally impossible and the weeks of travel necessary to bring them to the north, tangerines cost their weight in gold in the north.

which makes them almost as precious as your comments and kudos are to me! :D <3<3

more musings on my twt

Chapter 3: out from underneath who you were

Notes:

Syt issa. = For me.
Lykirī. = Calm down.

spoilers for potentially upsetting content

someone gets burned by dragon fire this chapter, i didn't lean into any gory details but it does happen so beware if you are sensitive to this kind of content!

Despite the fact that it made his eyes hurt, Chan loved basking in the sun. 

They didn’t get a lot of it so high up in the North so it was important to enjoy every second of it. Which was why he stood next to his horse, eyes closed and head tilted towards the sun, as he waited for the rest of the hunting party to gather. 

“Chan.” 

No title. As if Chan was just a man and in that moment, he wished he was. Looking at Felix felt a lot like looking at the sun, and hurt just as much. 

“Felix.” Chan smiled because it was the polite thing to do and he knew what Felix’s tongue tasted like and he wanted to. 

The way Felix stared at him was intense, because it always was, but there was also this hesitation in his gaze which almost made him look…shy? 

Chan felt something inside him soften. “You look beautiful this morning.” 

Much like he’d hoped, Felix preened at the compliment, briefly touching the braided strands of his hair that kept the rest of it out of his face. They were aligned in such an intricate pattern that Chan couldn’t even begin to guess where one plait ended and the other began. It was clear that Felix spent a lot of time on his hair which, in turn, made Chan’s fingers itch with the urge to run his fingers over the silver strands. 

“Have all of you come to join us?” 

Chan referred to where Jisung was standing a little ways away, arms crossed in front of his chest and face scrunched up as if he was smelling something exceptionally bad. He flinched every time one of Chan’s men came too close to him. Chan tried not to take offense to the clear distaste Jisung had for his people. 

Hyunjin didn’t seem to share his brother’s misgivings. He was right on his way to where Changbin was standing, adjusting the straps of his horse’s saddle. Chan hoped that the dragon king didn’t plan on having his right-hand man for breakfast. Changbin was his best tracker and Chan would have hated to miss him on this hunt. 

Felix moved so it was him in Chan’s direct line of sight. “We have.” 

“Come, then.” Chan smiled because he was a good host and it was his duty. “Let me introduce you to your companion for the afternoon.”

He led Felix over to where several stablehands were standing with horses already set and saddled. “Are you fine with a horse or will only a dragon do?” 

Felix showed him his teeth, but there was an amused twinkle in his eye. “I can ride whatever you see fit.” 

Chan’s mouth felt very dry all of a sudden. He forbade himself from thinking about the night before, about the memory of Felix’s tongue dragging against his own, about how it had felt when Felix had ground against him. “I see."

Felix looked at the horse then looked back at Chan, batting his eyelashes. “Will you help me up?”

“Of course.” 

He offered Felix his hand, marvelling at the way their gloved fingers fit around each other. Felix wrapped his other hand around the horn of the saddle and hoisted himself up. Chan only let go of his hand when he was sure Felix sat securely in the saddle. 

“How is it?” 

“Good.” Felix leaned forward to pat the horse’s neck. “Comfortable.” 

“Felix.” 

That was Jisung, who steered his horse to stand next to his twin’s. Chan blinked. He hadn’t even noticed Jisung getting on a horse. Looking around, he found that pretty much everyone was ready to leave except for him. He hurried over to his own horse, briefly stroking the mare’s neck before he mounted. 

He raised his hand, giving Changbin the go ahead. Changbin immediately started yelling orders and like that, their hunting party was leaving the castle, headed towards the Northern woods. Chan thought he might have been able to escape his fate once they were out of the castle and their group had the space to spread out more, but Felix stuck close to his side. He didn’t speak much, but his eyes never left Chan. 

Chan felt the inane need to do something about that, to impress Felix in some way or find something else that may have held his attention only half as much, but there was nowhere else he could have turned. 

They were halfway across the plains in between Winterfell and the Northern woods when a shrill screech sounded from above. Chan looked upwards to find that a piece of the sun had broken off and was now descending upon them. He couldn’t help the noise of awe that escaped him. Out of all three dragons, it could not be denied that Felix’s was the prettiest. Its golden scales glittered beautifully in the sun, making it look like a creature of gold and firelight itself.

While Chan could see that his men shared his awe, the horses disagreed. They took fright, neighing and trying to break away from their party the closer the beast came. 

Chan turned towards Felix, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “Is your dragon going to swoop down and try to eat us?” 

Felix broke into laughter, sounding genuinely delighted. Jisung on his other side scowled, rolling his eyes as he muttered something under his breath. Chan didn’t have to speak Valyrian to know it was probably something along the lines of, I wish the dragon would. 

“No,” Felix’s smile was just as blinding as his dragon’s scales. “Solar is just here because I am. We like to be close to each other so she’s going to keep watch. From above.” 

A lot of questions popped into Chan’s mind at once. You named your dragon Solar? It’s a she-dragon? How did you find each other? 

Before he could ask any of them, Minho rode up to his other side. His mood had visibly plummeted when the dragonlords had shown up to join their hunting party so Chan hadn’t tried to bother him too much. He’d already counted his blessings that Minho hadn’t started outright cursing at them. 

It seemed that his luck had run out. 

“You have to tell your beast to stop screeching,” Minho spit in Felix’s direction. “She’s going to scare away all the game before we’ve even reached the woods.” 

“Minho!” Chan scolded his friend.

Felix himself looked like he had some choice words for Minho, none of them kind, but his twin was faster. Jisung spurred his horse so he could block Minho’s way, forcing all three of them to a halt. Jisung’s eyes were only on Minho though.

“What did you just say?” he snarled at Minho. 

Minho jutted out his chin. “You heard me.” 

“You—” 

“Keligon, Jisung.” 

Chan knew that meant ‘stop.’ Jisung didn’t seem interested in stopping. He shot Felix a look as if to say, Are you serious?

Felix minutely shook his head, his voice falling into a soft whisper as he spoke to his brother. Jisung’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at whatever Felix was saying. Then, he started vehemently protesting. Felix seemed unmoved. All he did was maneuver his horse so he could put his hand on Jisung’s arm. 

“Please,” he said quietly. “Syt issa.” 

Jisung stared at his brother. It looked like he had something very unkind to say, but he snapped his mouth closed before he could. His eyes fell onto Chan of all people. Chan swallowed. Jisung held eye contact with him as he did say something in Valyrian that made Felix flinch. 

It was the last thing Jisung did before he spurred his horse once more. This time, in the direction they had come from. Chan watched, uncomfortable and confused, as Jisung left their party without another word. 

Chan’s unease turned into a real stomach ache when, a good mile away from the castle, Jisung brought his horse a halt. With one arm raised in the air, he jumped and ran, but not towards the castle gates. He was veering to the side as if he planned to go around. 

Not a moment later, a terrible screech sounded across the land and then a comet of glittering emerald dropped from above the clouds, hitting the earth right in front of Jisung’s feet. Jisung barely slowed down, letting himself collide with Tyvaro’s front leg so he could throw his arms around it. 

Tyvaro’s long neck wound in all directions as he screeched again, as if he was trying to see where the danger was coming from, to see where he had to direct his fire to burn whoever had upset his human so. 

Jisung clung to his dragon’s leg, face pressed against the scales before he scrambled up that same leg to climb onto Tyvaro’s back. As soon as he was secure in his seat, Tyvaro took off, two beats of his mighty wings making him rise above the castle and a third carrying him over it. 

Chan swallowed. 

It was easy to forget how mighty the smaller dragons were when you only saw them next to Morghon’s mountainous size, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t taller than houses and just as terrifying. Chan feared retribution at that moment, but Jisung didn’t command his dragon to destroy his castle. He simply flew away, farther than the castle and farther even than the hills in between which the dragons had made themselves at home. 

Chan wondered how long it would take him to return. 

With nowhere else to put his emotions, Chan turned towards Minho. “Are you satisfied?” 

“It is not my fault that our guests are crazy.” Minho’s expression held nothing but disdain as he looked right at Felix. “All of them.” 

“Minho,” Chan warned. “That’s quite enough.” 

But Minho was already maneuvering his horse to the front of the party, to where Changbin was. Hyunjin, right next to him, sat almost sideways in his saddle so he could look back at Felix. Chan found that his gods hadn’t completely forsaken him when Hyunjin didn’t let himself fall back to investigate what had made Jisung abandon their party. 

To stop himself from spiralling into the depths of his own mind, Chan sought out Felix’s gaze. “I apologise for Minho’s behaviour.” 

Felix glared at the back of Minho’s head with very little love in his eyes. “The Prince of the Vale dislikes us.”

“He’s just worried.”

Felix didn’t look impressed. 

“It’s not an unfounded worry,” Chan said gently because he didn’t want to start another fight. “When the old King of the Vale died, Minho came here to learn from my father how to be a king. With the way it’s going, he’ll have to forsake his crown before it has ever touched his head. It is torment for him, having to watch the fate of his kingdom be decided over his head.” 

“By you.” Felix’s reply came just as gently, as if he was scared Chan didn’t know that. 

“By me,” Chan confirmed. 

Felix contemplated this before he sniffled. “Well, I could ask my brother to make him a kind offer.” Chan was about to thank him when Felix added, “If he stops looking at you with cow eyes, that is.” 

Chan couldn’t help himself. He laughed. It came out as a bit of a manic giggle because of how much tension he’d held in his body before, but he laughed all the same. Felix blinked at him in confusion, clearly debating whether he was supposed to be offended. 

“I’m sorry. I promise I’m not laughing at you. I just—” Helplessly, Chan shrugged. The sun shone and it was not winter yet and he wished Felix’s jealousy didn’t make him as happy as it did. 

He wished for a lot of things that could not be. 

He was surprised when Felix, smiling too, reached over to poke his cheek, right where Chan knew his dimples were. “Do this more often. I like it when you laugh, Wolf of Winter.” 

Chan blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever been told this in his life. 

“Will your brother be all right?” he asked. 

Felix sighed, looking at the sky. His expression eased as his eyes fell onto his dragon, circling them so high up above that she was no more than a speck of gold amongst the clouds. “Jisung is fine. It’s just…a lot for him sometimes. He’s not…fond of…things.” 

Chan nodded, knowing better than to ask what Felix meant with that. He was already baffled Felix was sharing this much with him. It wasn’t smart of him to admit to any type of fault on Jisung’s behalf. Chan saw it as the sign of trust that it was. 

“He cares for you deeply.” 

“He is my twin brother. Whatever the gods have foreseen for me, he will share that burden, just as I do for him.” 

Chan didn’t miss the different tenses Felix used. He still knew better than to pry. 

“I’m glad you have him.” 

Felix smiled and there was so much love in his eyes as he looked at the sky, as he looked towards the front of the party where Hyunjin was. “My family is very dear to me. Dearest.” 

I could be dearer. Felix had said it before, not Chan. Chan didn’t dare think that. He had no right to. 

“I feel the same.” 

Felix smiled at him, but it was no longer as light-hearted. Here, they had once more reached the one thing they could agree on, which would forever keep them apart. 

“Hyung!” 

Both of them were saved from the heavy weight of their ill-fate when Jeongin rode up between them. 

Chan had initially planned to leave Jeongin at home, but his little brother had begged and begged and eventually worn him down. 

“The secret’s already out. Hyunjin-hyung knows I exist. Besides, isn’t it better for me to leave the castle while they’re hiding out in their rooms?” 

Chan hadn’t been able to argue against that and by the time the dragonlords had shown up in the courtyard, it had been too late to send Jeongin to his rooms. Right now, he was glad to have him here. 

“Hyung,” Jeongin leaned towards him with so much excitement he nearly fell out of his saddle, “will we really hunt a boar today?” 

Chan could tell that Jeongin’s question drew the interest of several of the men around them, most of all Felix. 

He nodded. “We will. Several farmers have complained about grazed and trampled fields. All signs point to a sounder in the woods. With winter approaching, the farmers can’t lose out on one last yield so we’ll help them.”

Jeongin nodded. “As good kings do.” 

“As good kings do,” Chan echoed. It was something their father had always said.  

“Is there a prize for the boar’s head?” Felix asked. 

“Glory!” Jeongin wriggled with excitement. When his horse veered a little to the left, Chan withstood the urge to grab onto his reins for him, like he’d done for him when he’d been a child. 

Felix sighed in faux-disappointment. “I thought there’d be something more substantial.” 

Chan looked at him with amusement. “What would you like to have then?”

Felix grinned, eyes twinkling in a way that made Chan feel a little embarrassed. For what reason, he did not know. 

He didn’t get to ask either when Changbin’s voice rang through the air, “Everyone dismount!” 

They had reached the edge of the woods. 

Chan slid off his mare, quickly walking over to Felix so he could help him off his horse. Felix accepted his help, looking very much amused as he put his hands onto Chan’s shoulders. Chan forced himself to let go of Felix’s waist once Felix was steady on two feet. 

“Your Grace?” Changbin called out to him and Chan hurried to enter the loose circle his men had formed. 

He raised his fist to have everyone quiet down. Once he had everyone’s attention, he repeated what he’d told Jeongin about the boar. 

“And,” he added at the end, “because we have such esteemed guests with us, I thought we could make things a little more interesting.” 

“Interesting how?” one of his soldiers asked. 

Chan smiled. “I have decided that whoever returns with the boar’s head will have the King’s ear. Good work needs to be rewarded so I will reward you with whatever you wish for, given that it is a feasible demand of course.” 

Immediately, his men broke into chatter, some already yelling out the things they wanted:

“I want a sword of Valyrian steel!” 

“I want a pretty wife!” 

“Yah! The King said feasible!” 

“I want a single room in the barracks!”  

Chan waited until everyone had calmed down before he continued, “Remember that you have to bring me the boar’s head and remember that you may only have my ear,” Chan tapped the handle of his sword strapped to his back with a grin, “if you manage to get to it before me.” 

His men broke into protestant, excited clamour and Chan laughed. 

“Hyung, hyung!” Jeongin yelled to be heard over the noise. “I already know what I want! I want a direwolf puppy!” 

“Yah!” Changbin next to him caught him in a headlock. “Who says you’ll be the one, eh? I doubt you’re strong enough to slay a boar with these twiggy little arms!”

Jeongin whined and wriggled until Changbin let him go, “My arms are not twiggy! Besides, Seungmin says it does not matter how big your arms are, it’s about how big your brain is.” 

“Well…”

“Seungmin is right,” Chan said quickly. “You should always listen to your maester, Jeongin. Seungmin is smart and will teach you many things.” 

Jeongin preened. “He does! I’m already his best student!”

Changbin huffed. “You are his only—ouch!” 

Changbin glared when Minho elbowed him in the side. Apart from Seungmin, Minho was the one who took Jeongin’s education and undisturbed happiness most seriously. 

“Any questions?” Chan asked the rest of the men. 

Felix raised his hand. 

“Felix?” 

The smile that graced Felix’s features was beatific and Chan could see the way his men fell for it. They were scared, yes, that much was visible in the way no one dared to stand too close to either Hyunjin or Felix, but there was also a developing sense of reverence in the way they looked at Felix. Chan wasn’t sure whether he liked it, but he couldn’t blame his men for falling for Felix’s charm. 

He himself was not without fault. 

“Can we hunt in pairs?” Felix asked, tugging a strand of silver hair behind his ear. “It’s just that me and my brother are unfamiliar with these woods. We are at a disadvantage so it’d be much more fair if we got to pair up with someone who is familiar with the terrain.” 

“Excellent idea!” Hyunjin perked up. “Ser Changbin, you’re with me!” 

“What—” Changbin spluttered when Hyunjin grabbed onto his arm and dragged him towards the woods. “Come, my darling knight, or do you want someone else to win our prize?” 

Changbin whined, looking to Chan for help, but there was little that Chan could do except for waving him off. 

“Everyone else, pair up too!” he ordered, watching his men shuffle around before he returned to his mare. He didn’t have to look to know that Felix was following him. He could feel it.

“Would you accompany me on this hunt, My Grace?” 

Really, he had expected this. Really, he had hoped for it. Most of all, he’d dreaded it. Chan took a deep breath before he turned around to face him. 

Felix looked so beautiful in the sun. Beautiful enough, really, to make a man do stupid things. Knowing this did not save Chan from falling victim to him. He had to say yes, he told himself. There was no one else who could have accompanied Felix.

Chan could not pair Felix with Minho because the chances were too high that one would kill the other and he could not put Felix with Jeongin because then he would have spent the entire afternoon worrying about their well-being while he was not there to watch over them. He also couldn’t put Felix with any of his men, because…most of them were already paired up together.

“Certainly, Felix.” 

Felix smiled at him and Chan thought that the summer might last another year. 

With all the other pairs already setting off into the woods, he hurried to undo the harness allowing him to carry his sword on his back. Ice, the ancestral sword of his house, was too unwieldy for the woods. Too much range was needed to handle the greatsword properly. Chan was better off with a lighter weapon as well as the knives strapped to his belt. 

He handed Ice to one of the stablehands that would remain with the horses, smiling at the awe that filled the boy’s eyes as he got to hold the sword. 

“You’ll keep an eye on this for me, won’t you?”

The boy nearly dropped the sword in his haste to bow. “Yes, Your Grace! Of course, Your Grace!” 

Chan smiled, suppressing the urge to ruffle the kid’s hair. The boy reminded him of Jeongin. 

“Chan.” 

Chan allowed himself his smile to linger on his face when he looked at Felix. 

He led Felix over to one of the supply wagons, surveying the pile of weapons on display. After a short moment of contemplation, he picked up a spear, weighing it in his hand before deciding that it would do. 

“Do you need a weapon?”

Felix shook his head, pulling his blood red cloak aside to reveal the shortsword strapped to his belt. Chan had seen it before, recognising the weapon by the ruby fashioned into the gold-encrusted handle. The pattern of water-like ripples on the blade itself told Chan that it was made from Valyrian steel, just like Ice. 

“That’s a beautiful sword.”

Felix’s expression twisted. “I’m not fond of using it, but it does its job.” 

“A wise way to look at things.”

Felix’s expression softened. “Wise of you to see it that way, King Chan.” 

Chan smiled and Felix smiled right back at him. Chan could have spent the afternoon like this, just standing in the sun looking at Felix, but they really were the last to leave by now so he got them moving once more. 

Together, they entered the woods.

Because it was still summer, the trees hadn’t lost their leaves yet, even if it was cold inside the woods. A lot colder than outside of it where the sun still reached. Pushing the heel of his boot against the ground confirmed Chan’s suspicions. The earth was hard, near frozen. No wonder then, that the sounder had moved out onto the fields to find food. 

Winter was coming. 

A hand curled into the sleeve of his fur coat. 

Chan looked at it before he looked at Felix. 

“I’m scared to lose you,” Felix told him. “Will you let me hold onto you for a bit?”

Chan smiled. Here, in the woods where there were no prying eyes and maybe not even the gods to watch over them, Chan reached for Felix. 

“Take my hand. I promise I’ll only let go if I have to.” 

“You promise?” 

Chan took Felix’s hand, interlocking their gloved fingers. “I promise.” 

Felix stared at him, purple eyes glowing in the dim light. He nodded. “Okay.” A beat. “I trust you.” 

As promised, Chan didn’t let go of him as he led him deeper into the woods. 

*

“You know, we were told many different tales about the North before our arrival. Everyone always spoke of how harsh the weather is and how stoic the people are, but I’ve found that that’s not true. At least, I find your people much more hospitable than most others, once you get past the harsh glares and twisted humour that is. I do prefer warmer climates though. It’s very cold out here.” 

Changbin ignored the incessant, endless stream of chatter behind him as he examined the bark of the tree in front of him. At the height of about his knee, there were several ridges in the bark, chunks of it missing as if a large animal had rubbed itself against it. 

Changbin smiled. With a little luck, it was the large animal he was looking for and soon enough, his misery would finally end. 

“Do you not get cold?” Hyunjin continued on behind him, “Or do your mothers leave you out to sleep in the snow as babes so you may get used to the cold?” 

Frowning, Changbin turned around. “What are you even talking about?” 

“I said it’s cold.” Hyunjin’s perfectly-shaped lips pushed into a pout. Hopping from leg to the other, the dragon king made a show of just how terribly he was freezing. Miraculously, he stopped shivering as soon as both his feet touched the ground again. “You know, an honourable man like yourself should offer me his coat.” 

Changbin immediately pulled his coat tighter around himself. “I can’t do that.”

Hyunjin’s pout intensified and Changbin really needed to look away from his mouth. “Why not?”

Changbin ignored him in favour of turning back to the tree. By his best guess, the boar had to be somewhere in the radius of a mile, maybe two. The sap oozing from the ridges was still sticky.

“Why not?” Hyunjin asked again, nearly breathing down Changbin’s neck with how close he was all of a sudden. 

Changbin sighed and, nearly tearing some bark off the tree himself with how frustrated he was, he gave up. He’d learned by now that there was no winning against Hyunjin. Turning around, he fixed the dragon king with a harsh glare. 

“This coat isn’t made from rabbit or even wolf, if you’ve noticed. It is the pelt of a bear, a bear that I hunted myself on my home island.”

Hyunjin blinked, clearly oblivious to what that meant and also clearly waiting for Changbin to explain it to him. 

Changbin sighed. “It’d mean something if I put it on your shoulders.”

Hyunjin’s eyes started sparkling then. “It would mean something? Like what?” 

Changbin felt his cheeks heat despite the cold. He looked anywhere but Hyunjin’s face. “Stop talking now, Your Majesty. We’re on a hunt. We’re never going to find any game, not to mention the boar, if you keep blabbering away.” 

And he tried to leave then, Changbin really, earnestly did, but there was no getting rid off Hyunjin, especially not inside these woods. Silent as it had been, he’d made a promise to Chan and himself and his kingdom that he’d bring Hyunjin back in one piece, if only to escape the wrath of the giant black dragon he kept as a pet. 

“Tell me,” Hyunjin sang as he circled Changbin all the way down the path, like his dragon probably circled the sheep he ate. “Tell me, Ser Changbin, and I promise I won’t ask you anything else.” 

Changbin stopped short. “Is that a promise?”

Hyunjin extended his little finger. Changbin stared at it. Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh and grabbed onto Changbin’s hand, winding Changbin’s pinky around his own. He shook their hands before he let go. “Now it’s a promise.” 

Changbin stared at his hand, then at Hyunjin. “Your way of making promises is weird.”

Hyunjin grinned. “It’s binding all the same so now tell me your secret, my darling knight, so I may use it to my advantage.” 

Changbin stared at him but Hyunjin didn’t take back what he’d said and really, Changbin should have known that Hyunjin wasn’t kidding. He fully believed that Hyunjin had just put a blood curse on him. 

Another eternal sigh left him. “Fine. If you must know, my coat…it’s…” Instinctively, his hands moved over the soft, black fur. “It’s reserved.”

Hyunjin tilted his head to the side. “Reserved?”

“For my special one.” 

“Your special one?” 

“You know,” Changbin awkwardly cleared his throat, “the person I’m going to marry, that…that special one. The coat proves that I’m a good enough hunter to provide for my future family so…it’s reserved to serve as proof for that. It’s a very old, Northern custom but I believe in it. Apart from myself, only my spouse will get to wear this coat.”  

“Oh,” Hyunjin’s eyes widened before they filled with glittering mirth, “why, Ser Changbin, you should have just said so! In that case, my answer is yes! It’s a bit early for you to propose, of course, but I’m very willing to marry you right this second if only to escape this bone-rattling cold!” 

Changbin flinched away from Hyunjin as if burned. “What are you saying? You’re talking madness!”

“Why?” Hyunjin’s pout was back. “Don’t you think I’d make a beautiful spouse?”

Changbin bit his tongue before he could curse at the other. As whimsical and joyful as Hyunjin presented himself to be, Changbin was not blinded. It hadn’t been very whimsical and joyful of Hyunjin to erase an entire city from the map just because. 

Changbin had no delusions. Hyunjin wasn’t kind, or even remotely interested in Changbin. He was just toying with Changbin to pass the time. Nothing he said, he meant in earnest and should Hyunjin have really desired it, then he could have had Changbin’s head on a spear come nightfall. Which was why Changbin could not stop entertaining him. 

“Certainly, you are beautiful,” he said because Hyunjin was and Changbin had an interest in keeping his head attached to his shoulders.

Hyunjin’s entire being lit up at his words and his greedy hands, always so eager to reach for other people’s crowns and kingdoms, reached for Changbin’s arm. “Well, then you must allow me to at least hold onto you! I know you won’t give up your coat, but you’ll still share some of your warmth with me, won’t you?”

Changbin had some choice words in reply, but they got stuck in his throat when the sound of howling filled the air. It was weak, muffled by the forest around them but Changbin would have recognised the voice of his king under any circumstances. His head whipped in the direction it was coming from. 

“What was—”

Unceremoniously, Changbin slapped a hand over Hyunjin’s mouth. He didn’t lift it until the howling stopped. A curse escaped him. 

“What—”

Changbin cut Hyunjin off once more as he tilted his head back and howled too, cupping his hands around his mouth to make the sound travel. 

“Ser Changbin,” Hyunjin demanded, “what are you doing? Is this another Northern custom I’m unaware of or—” 

Changbin grabbed onto Hyunjin’s hands, pushing them against Hyunjin’s mouth. “Do it too.”

“What?”

“It’s a call for aid,” Changbin explained urgently. “Someone from our party has encountered a direwolf. We have to make it think that whoever is calling for us is not alone.” 

“What do you mean? A—”

“—direwolf, yes, they really exist and it will run away if it thinks there’s a whole pack coming for its neck so howl.” 

Hyunjin stared at him in disbelief, but then he cupped his hands around his mouth like Changbin had done and howled. It came out weakly at first, Hyunjin’s throat clearly unused to producing the sound but when Changbin did it again, Hyunjin did too and like that they stood, howling as loudly as they could. 

Soon enough, their voices were echoed, the other pairs catching on. As the howling continued, echoing from all corners of the forest, Changbin grabbed onto Hyunjin’s hand and dragged him down the nearest path to where he believed Chan’s voice to have come from. 

A part of him wanted to abandon the dragon king to be quicker, but he’d sworn to bring him back in one piece and so he couldn’t. They both had to make it there. Remarkably, Hyunjin didn’t try to speak to him even once as they ran. 

*

Chan crouched down to examine the thick shrubbery in front of him. Just because the ground was frozen over didn’t mean there weren’t any other traces of the sounder. 

Chan used the bottom of his spear to tap against the broken, dangling branches cutting a swath through the bushes before he rose back to his feet. 

“I think we’re close. Not many animals that roam these woods are large enough to do damage like this. If we move through here, we might find it. It’s not a trodden path, though.” Chan looked back at Felix. “Going any farther might be uncomfortable, so if you want to go back, I’d understand. We can just end the hunt here.” 

“No,” Felix said quicker than Chan expected, purple eyes alight in the dim light of the forest. His grip on Chan’s hand tightened. “I want the prize that was promised.” 

Chan’s eyebrows twitched upward in question, but before he could ask, Felix was already moving, pulling him along. 

It was significantly harder to move through the thick of the woods, branches tugging on their clothes and hair, but Felix seemed determined to make it through so Chan could do little else but follow. 

Eventually, they made it onto a small clearing and Chan heaved a small breath of relief. Felix laughed as he stepped into the sun, clearly enjoying the unforeseen warmth. With his eyes closed, he circled once around himself. Chan watched him, mesmerised as ever, before he realised what he was doing and quickly averted his eyes. 

He examined their surroundings instead, walking over to a decently-sized patch of upturned earth. Crouching down, he scooped up some of the earth to rub it between his gloved fingers. 

“I think this might have been the boar’s mud pool. It must have been here for a while so chances are we’re not too far now. Who knows, maybe it’ll even come back here if we wait. What do you think?”

He turned around when Felix didn’t answer, his heart stopping in his chest. Felix stood with his back to him, right where Chan had left him except he wasn’t spinning anymore. No, Felix stood stock-still like a statue, frozen in fear. Chan could see why. 

At the edge of the clearing, half-hidden behind one of the trees, stood a beast larger than either of them. It was not a boar. It was a wolf. 

“Felix,” Chan said very, very quietly. “Do not move.” 

Felix’s breath hitched at the sound of Chan’s voice. The wolf, the wolf who was not just any type of wolf but a direwolf, didn’t like that. It took a step forward. Felix instinctively took a step back. 

The direwolf snarled at him for it and Felix raised both arms above his head. Chan didn’t know whether he was trying to make himself bigger, but it wasn’t going to work. It was merely making the direwolf angrier, the beast opening its maw to show off teeth as large as Chan’s fingers. 

When it looked like the direwolf was going to attack, Chan moved before he could think about it. He threw his spear, hitting the wolf right in the spot where its hindleg connected to the rest of its body. The wolf howled and fell onto its side, twisting its own neck to bite at the spear protruding from its body. 

Chan rushed forward, pulling Felix behind himself whilst stealing Felix’s sword from its sheath at the same time. In that moment, he wished more than anything that he would have taken Ice with him, but Felix’s shortsword was all they had and so it would have to do. It was still Valyrian steel. It would still cut through anything, including the direwolf’s throat.

Chan raised the sword high as he kept Felix behind him. 

“Run, Felix!” he yelled before he gathered as much air in his lungs as he could and howled. He didn’t dare tilt his neck as he did it, too afraid to look away from the direwolf, but he howled all the same. 

The direwolf stopped snapping at Chan’s spear to snap at Chan instead, but Chan didn’t stop. He howled until his breath ran out, knowing that someone would hear. He had to believe that someone would hear. Once his air ran out, he focussed back on keeping the direwolf at bay. 

A scream rang out behind him and all Chan could think was that he didn’t understand why Felix hadn’t run yet. “Chan!” 

Chan didn’t dare turn around, not even when a shadow fell over the clearing. He barely had time to lift his head towards the sky before a heavy weight hit his back. The sword slipped from his grip as he hit the ground hard, his arms instinctively coming up to protect his face. With ringing ears, he rolled onto his back, trying to get up but he was immediately pushed back to the ground. 

Felix’s eyes were wide and terrified as he looked down at Chan, his hands pushing down on his shoulders, thighs bracketing Chan’s hips to keep him right where he was. 

Why? Chan wanted to ask but then gold filled the sky beyond Felix’s head. Then, orange fire did. 

Chan saw it coming and all he could think of at that moment was that Felix didn’t. He was too busy looking at Chan. All Chan could think to do was to wrap his arms around Felix’s middle and flip them over, shield him like Felix had tried to do for him. 

“No!” 

Desperate hands pushed against his shoulders, tugged on his hair, but Chan didn’t budge. Felix was still beautiful when he cried. Between the two of them, Chan would not let it be him. 

Chan could have named a thousand reasons for this, could have made up a thousand excuses about how he had to ensure Felix was unharmed to protect his kingdom, but at that moment he was not thinking about that. He only thought of Felix. Chan would have rather burned alive than watch a single, silver strand on his head be singed. 

His wish came true almost immediately. 

A scream escaped him as heat enveloped him like never before. The fire melted the clothes right off his back, scorching the skin beneath. Felix’s hands slid over his head and Chan wanted to tell him not to try and protect him, but all that came out of his mouth was another, agonised scream. It hurt. 

It hurt worse than anything else Chan had ever experienced. 

The pain didn’t stop even when the fire did. It persisted, became worse with every second that he was still alive to feel it so it was a mercy when the edges of his vision started to blur. It was a mercy when his lungs struggled to expand, his breath rattling in his chest. It was a mercy when his eyes fell close and he no longer had to see Felix’s horrified, tear-stained face. 

His senses faded slowly, and then very fast. The last thing he felt was the ground reverberating with the weight of something mightier than the both of them settling on the earth. The last thing he heard was a terrible, deafening screech warning off any other wolves from approaching the dragon prince beneath him. 

*

Changbin knew no fear but the fear of regret. 

It was the reason why he had left his home at three and ten to join the Northern court at Winterfell. Bear Island was his home and forever would be, but he’d yearned to experience just a little more of the world, to find himself in a place that could afford him more glory than staying cushy and protected at Seo Keep for the rest of his life and so he’d left. 

He’d known that he had made the right decision the day he’d met Chan. 

He’d been smaller than Changbin back then even though he’d also been two years older. As the two youngest of their troop, they’d shared a room in the barracks. Chan, as a Prince, hadn’t been supposed to be there. He’d been supposed to sleep in his cushy bed in the castle, overseeing the soldiers rather than joining them, but he’d insisted to stay where everyone else did and so, eventually, the King had let him. 

It was their time in the barracks that had made them brothers and Changbin had known the day he’d sworn fealty to Chan that he would not regret it. For Chan, he’d fight. For Chan, he’d lay down his life if necessary because Chan was going to be a great king and Changbin was going to ensure that he lived long enough to achieve all that he’d dreamt of. 

Which was why it horrified him when he stumbled upon a field of charred earth and found that he was too late. 

Hyunjin, right behind him, did not stop like he did. He was not as unfamiliar with the sight in front of them as Changbin was, even if it was beyond horrific. They’d been able to smell the devastation of the dragonfire from afar, but seeing it was a different matter. 

The dragonfire hadn’t just set fire to the trees in its path, it had obliterated them, leaving nothing but ashes and smoking earth in its wake. Changbin blinked in horror at the destruction before he turned his stare towards the beast responsible. 

On a clearing at the beginning of the swath, Felix’s golden dragon was standing, towering over the trees by twice their height. The beast was visibly agitated, shifting on its feet and cutting down an entire row of trees every time it swished its tail. 

Watch out! Changbin wanted to yell when Hyunjin ran straight towards the golden dragon, but while the beast snapped at Hyunjin, it did not burn him to a crisp like it had done to the forest around Changbin. 

Changbin knew no fear but the fear of regret and so he forced himself to follow. 

Unfortunately for him, the beast didn’t take as kindly to him as it had taken to Hyunjin. The moment Changbin came close enough to see Felix and the lifeless form of his king between the dragon’s legs, the golden beast unhinged its jaw to roar at him. 

Changbin was a brave man, but he couldn’t help but whimper when he saw the beginnings of a fireball form in the dragon’s throat, promising him the same ending as the forest behind him. 

Felix jumped to his feet before it could. 

“Lykirī, Solar!” Felix yelled . “Lykirī!”

The golden beast, apparently named Solar, hissed in Changbin’s direction, but visibly calmed down upon Felix’s command. At least enough not to eat Changbin as he bridged the last of the distance between them. 

Another whimper escaped him when he saw that it really was Chan’s body lying between the dragon’s legs. 

“I’m sorry,” Felix sobbed as Changbin fell to his knees next to his king.

Changbin’s heart thundered in his chest as he pulled off his glove to hold his hand under Chan’s nose. He nearly sagged with relief when he found that his king was still breathing. 

“He’s alive,” Felix confirmed, though the tears in his voice didn’t do much to reassure Changbin of how long that was going to be the case. “I protected his head as best as I could and his legs were folded under him, but his back…” Felix sobbed. “It’s…”

Changbin swallowed as he forced himself to let his gaze wander down that far. He immediately looked away, stomach flipping at the sight and smell. It was the smell, really, that made bile rise in Changbin’s throat. He feared he was going to live as a green-eater from this moment onwards. 

“What happened?” he asked, his own voice raspy with the acid still coating his tongue and the tears he could not allow himself to shed. 

“We encountered a direwolf,” Felix’s voice was shaky as he spoke and Changbin almost found that funny. He only saw one beast on this clearing and it had scales instead of fur. “Chan tried to make it go away but it wouldn’t and I—Solar came.” 

Changbin nodded. He could see that. He could smell that. He was not going to cry. 

It was only when he looked at the hands Felix was kneading Chan’s unburnt arm with that he noticed that Felix himself wasn’t burned at all. Not even the hands he swore he’d shielded Chan’s head with bore any mark of dragon fire. 

“Why are you not hurt?” 

“Fire cannot kill a dragon,” Hyunjin said, looking grim where he was kneeling next to his brother, rubbing Felix’s shoulder. 

“But you’re human.” Changbin felt his heart sink. “You are human, are you not?” 

His stomach turned again at the thought of that not being the case. There were only so many insuperable monsters he could stomach in one day. 

Hyunjin’s lips quirked into a smile, but it lacked his usual spark of glee. “Do not look too worried, Changbin. We bleed like you do. It’s only dragonfire that cannot harm us, just like the acid inside your stomach cannot harm you.”

Changbin blinked. He didn’t know whether to be very relieved or very unsettled. All of it seemed inconsequential when he looked at Chan once more. Chan, his king, who didn’t rouse when Changbin touched him. Changbin knew it was a mercy. 

“We have to get him back to the castle. He’s breathing now but he won’t be for much longer if we don’t get him to Seungmin.” 

Hyunjin furrowed his brows. “Who is Seungmin?” 

“Our maester.” 

“Your maester can heal him?” Felix looked up at him with nothing but hope in his eyes. 

Changbin wanted to believe him. He wanted so badly to believe that Felix wished for Chan’s survival as much as he did, but Changbin could do nothing but blame him at that moment. 

“I hope so.” Looking at Chan made him fearful of the fate the gods had determined for his king. “Gods, do I hope so.” 

Felix stumbled to his feet, but was quickly steadied by his older brother. He didn’t waste any time thanking Hyunjin. 

“If you help me get Chan onto Solar’s back, then I can fly us back to the castle!”  

Putting Chan anywhere near the dragon was the last thing Changbin wanted to do, but he could see the reason in Felix’s request. 

“Are you sure your beast can do that?” 

“She will! She…She didn’t mean to hurt him. She was just trying to protect me. The direwolf scared me and…”

“No offense,” Changbin interrupted him, “but I really don’t care.” 

Felix’s bottom lip wobbled, but he nodded his head. 

He walked over to where his dragon was rubbing its head against one of the trees, like a giant, scaly, fire-breathing cat. Felix didn’t hesitate to touch the beast’s snout, pressing his forehead to the golden scales. 

Changbin didn’t understand any of the Valyrian Felix spoke, but it made the dragon stop hissing and instead move its massive body to lie flat down on the ground. Felix climbed onto the dragon’s back first, then reached out his hands. 

“Give him to me.” 

“Gods forgive me,” Changbin murmured as he carefully hoisted Chan up.  

It took Hyunjin climbing onto the dragon’s front leg to get Chan high enough for Felix to be able to pull him into the saddle with him, but eventually they managed. Changbin was so, so glad that Chan didn’t wake even once during the entire process. He didn’t want to imagine the pain his king was going to be in once he did. He didn’t want to imagine what was going to happen if Chan didn’t wake. 

He watched with a hawk’s eye as Felix used the many straps of his saddle to secure Chan’s lifeless form as best as he could and then he could do nothing but watch as the dragon lifted into the air, taking his king with him.

Changbin stared at the sky even long after the golden beast had disappeared above the trees. 

“Changbin.”

For once, there was no mirth in Hyunjin’s eyes as he looked at him. 

Changbin felt something inside him settle. He knew no fear but the fear of regret, and regret was what he was going to inflict upon the man in front of him if he had to light a funeral pyre for his best friend.

“Pray,” he told the dragon king, “pray to whatever gods you believe in that my king will survive this or we are at war, Conqueror.” 

Hyunjin flinched at the title. Changbin found nothing but satisfaction in that. It was good to know that the dragon king could be hurt. It was good to know that he could bleed. 

As Changbin began the long trek back to the castle, he wondered whether he’d have to make use of that knowledge.

Notes:

uhoh... but i promise it will all be fine! fine fine!

as always, i'd love to hear what you think below! (even though i'm a little scared to ask this time around haha oops) <3

more writing things on my twt

Chapter 4: living on a promised word

Notes:

this was a very emotional chapter to write, containing one of my favourite scenes of the entire fic so i really hope you like it!!

when the cold winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

The little one was sad. 

He’d been sad for days. 

Chan huffed, purposefully blowing his hot breath over the boy’s curled-up figure. Usually, it worked to make him giggle. The little one didn’t giggle now and that made Chan wonder whether he was hungry. 

From where he was curled around the boy, Chan lifted his giant head towards the sky, trilling. It took a minute, but then a screech answered him and Little Brother descended from the sky. 

Chan watched carefully as the hurt one climbed off his back, joining Chan’s little one on the ground. They curled up together, reminding Chan of how he had done the same with Little Brother when they’d been hatchlings. It filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction. 

Knowing that Little Brother would keep watch, Chan lifted into the air, rising higher and higher until he was above the clouds, feeling the sun on his scales. He allowed himself a couple of minutes of gliding under the sun before he dipped low again. 

It didn’t take long until he’d found a small herd of sheep. Dogs barked as he approached but they, too, fled when Chan snatched one of the sheeps off the ground, roasting it mid-air before he caught it in his claws. 

His little one had blunt teeth and a weak stomach so he needed Chan to roast his food for him. Chan roared with pride as he returned to their den and dropped the roasted sheep right by the fire that the hurt one had started. 

He settled around his little one like before, nudging him towards the food. The boy lifted his head, looked at the food and turned around, arms coming up to hug himself against Chan’s warm belly.  

Ah, Chan had gotten it wrong then. His little one was not hungry, he was cold. Chan understood that. It was terribly cold here where Elder had led them. Chan folded his wing over his boy, resting his head against the earth to doze a little. 

Little Brother wouldn’t rest for as long as they stayed this close to the sorted stones where the other humans had made their den so Chan allowed himself to relax. No one had come to approach them for days anyways. 

With one half-lidded eye, he watched as the hurt one started pulling apart the sheep Chan had brought, throwing Little Brother one of the legs before plucking apart the rest. 

He carried some of the meat over in a bowl, meeting Chan’s eye to ask for permission. Chan snuffed at him and lifted his wing. The hurt one dove under it, kneeling down next to Chan’s boy. 

“Felix,” he said. 

Felix only moved when the hurt one said it again. He eyed the bowl his hatchmate was carrying with distaste and Chan shuffled his wings, wondering whether he should have brought him a cow instead. Cows were bigger but tasted more tender. Maybe his little one’s teeth hurt. Elder had suffered from a toothache once and been insufferable for weeks. 

“I’m not hungry, Sung.” 

Chan didn’t have to be bonded to the hurt one to know he didn’t like that. “You have to eat.” 

“Oh, really? Do you think he’s eating? Do you think he’s—”

“Felix.” 

They stared at each other before the little one sighed and started eating. His hatchmate watched him before he picked up a chunk of meat himself. Chan trilled with pride. He’d done well, feeding the younglings. He watched in contentment as they ate and then curled up together, Chan folding his wing back over them. 

“It’s not your fault,” the hurt one murmured into the darkness. 

“It’s all my fault.”

“You said you tried to cover him. It’s not your fault he was stupid enough to throw himself in the way of dragonfire.” 

“Don’t say that!” Ruffling and shuffling and a pained welp. “He’s not stupid!” 

The hurt one made that squeaky sound he’d adapted to doing ever since he’d forgotten how to laugh. “Gods, you’re not even married to him yet and you’re already defending him without reason.” 

“It’s not without reason.” Another shuffle. Back to sticking close together. “And I doubt he’ll want to marry me after this.” 

“Of course he’ll want to marry you. He’s a man.” 

“A hurt man.”

“Still a man, and there’s seldom been a man who’s not been willing to give his kingdom for you.” 

No response. 

“The wolf king is strong, Felix. He’s going to survive and he’s going to wed you and everything is going to happen like we planned.” 

“But if he dies—”

“If he dies then we’ll find another way. There was only ever one ending to this. You know Hyunjin won’t let it be any different.” 

“I think this might be beyond Hyunjin’s will.” 

“Nothing is beyond Hyunjin’s will. Morghon chose him.” 

Silence. 

“Sungie?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologising to me for?” 

“I know it’s been hard for you.” 

The hurt one cooed. “Aw, Lix, do not worry about me. Loathe as I am to admit it, this place hasn’t been as bad as most of the others.” 

“Really? I thought you hated it here more than anywhere else.”

“Well, it’s as cold as a goat’s hoof, that’s for sure, but there’s also a lot of open space and the people don’t talk as much nonsense. I like that.” 

“What about the Prince of the Vale?” 

A wing’s beat of silence. 

“What about him?” 

“You’ve been arguing with him.” 

A scoff. “Well, if he could stop being a disrespectful shit towards you, I wouldn’t have to argue.” 

“He’s handsome though.”

“Yah!” Chan lifted his wing when the younglings started to tussle. Chan only allowed it because his little one was laughing for the first time in days and even the hurt one was making more of his squeaky sounds. “Are you not too busy mooning over the wolf king?”

“I am.” Bested, Chan’s little one threw his arms around his hatchmate and like that, they were huddling for warmth again. “Which is why I have to admit that the Vale prince is handsome. I have to admit it so I can hate him for it.” More quietly, “The way he keeps making cow eyes at Chan makes me want to claw his eyes out.”

“I think the wolf king has been too busy staring at you to notice. However, I never knew you to be so possessive.”  

Chan’s little one huffed, but it sounded sad. “You know it’s more than that.” 

“Mhm. Insufferable as I might find him, the Prince of the Vale is not stupid. He knows what end awaits him and his kingdom so he is trying to have the North go to war with us first. He knows they’d lose, but then his own armies would meet us in a weakened state.” 

“He can’t seriously think like this. That’s a terrible plan.” 

“He’s a future king. He has to strategise.” 

“A war like that can’t happen, Sungie.” There was so much urgency in his little one’s voice that Chan shifted in discomfort. “That’s not what we came here for. We came here so we wouldn’t have to fight anymore and—”

“And we won’t. I already told you. The wolf king is going to wake up and with a little luck, Solar’s fire is going to have done well enough in melting away his inhibitions. Trust me, you’ll be married to your wolf before winter comes.” 

“I really do hope so. I…It would hurt me if he died.”

“Which is why he won’t.”

Neither Chan’s little one nor the hurt one said any more after that so Chan was content to shuffle closer towards them both and cover them with his wing once more. Like the younglings, Chan was almost asleep by the time a mighty roar sounded across the land and Elder landed on the plain they had made their den. 

Chan merely lifted his wing when the chosen one asked to join his brothers under Chan’s wing. Like Elder did for Chan and Little Brother, the chosen one didn’t hesitate to curl himself around his siblings.

Chan rumbled with satisfaction. For the night, everyone in the den was together and safe. 

*

It was cold inside the throne room. Even colder than it usually was. Changbin shifted where he was standing right behind the throne, pulling his coat tighter around himself. 

It made him wonder, in the privacy of his own mind, whether Hyunjin wasn’t cold where he stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne. The conqueror was only dressed in black riding leathers. Then again, he probably was warmed by the dragonfire in his veins. 

Either way, it was none of Changbin’s business. 

It was better for Changbin not to look at him for too long. 

“Any decision regarding the offer you have made is deferred until my brother returns to full health.” 

Jeongin’s voice didn’t shake as he spoke and Changbin was proud of him for that. 

Hyunjin stared up at the boy, purple eyes gleaming before he minimally inclined his head. “I understand.” 

Changbin huffed. Hyunjin’s purple eyes slid over to him for only a brief moment. Whatever understanding he sought in Changbin’s eyes, Changbin did not give it to him. Changbin was pretty sure he imagined the way the conqueror’s expression fell. 

Hyunjin looked back at Jeongin. “I respect your decision, Your Grace. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Jeongin gave back. 

Because it was something they had to thank Hyunjin for, Chanbin thought bitterly, not using Chan’s injury to seize the kingdom while it was weakened. 

“You may leave,” Jeongin said at the same time that Hyunjin asked, “May I ask how he is doing? Your brother?” 

Jeongin froze up in his seat. He’d never relaxed into it in the first place, but now he looked truly uncomfortable where he sat on the Northern throne. Looking for guidance, he turned towards Seungmin, standing on his other side. The Maester placed a hand on his shoulder. 

Meeting Hyunjin’s eyes, Seungmin said, “The King in the North lives. I think that is all you need to know.” 

Jeongin nodded along to his maester’s words, glaring down at Hyunjin. “That is all we can tell you for now.” 

Hyunjin’s purple eyes caught the firelight of the torches along the wall, “Prince Jeongin—”

“I’d ask you to leave now.” Jeongin’s voice still sounded remarkably even as he spoke. It was only because Changbin knew him since he’d been a babe that he was able to hear the slight tremor that had snuck in. “Since we have nothing further to discuss.”

Changbin watched as Hyunjin shrunk in on himself. He looked small without his dragon behind him. He looked almost human. Changbin watched as the conqueror’s hand closed around the pommel of his sword. Changbin hadn’t seen him carry one before, but it was there now and so Changbin kept a hand on his own, ready to pull it at anytime. 

Hyunjin didn’t seem interested in a fight, though. He merely bowed his head once more. “I understand, Your Grace. Thank you for hearing me out.”

Jeongin nodded, the movement enough to knock the crown on his head slightly askew. His head was simply too small for the solid iron band. Jeongin’s hand shook as he hurried to fix it, whether out of embarrassment or anger, Changbin didn’t know, but luckily Hyunjin didn’t seem to notice. 

He was too busy looking at Changbin. 

For the first time, a smile appeared on the conqueror’s face. 

“Ser Changbin,” he called out in that same cheery tone Changbin was used to, even if it lacked earnestness, as if listening to an echo rather than the real thing. “Will you accompany me on my way out of the castle?”

Changbin held himself very still, his fingers flexing around the handle of his sword. He could feel both Seungmin and Jeongin look at him. 

“I think you can find your own way.” 

Hyunjin’s expression didn’t change much, even if his shoulders slumped a little. He didn’t ask a second time like Changbin expected him to. 

Instead, he directed another nod at Jeongin and, without another word, turned on his heel. Changbin watched him leave, nodding at the guards by the door so they would make sure the conqueror found his way out of the castle. 

The moment the doors had fallen close behind the dragon king, Jeongin slid off his throne, whining and throwing his crown away in anger. Changbin leaned down to pull him back to his feet, not so subtly pushing their young prince into Seungmin’s direction. Seungmin was much more versed in dealing with Jeongin’s tantrums than he was. 

The maester glared at him for shirking off his responsibilities, but he still took a hold of Jeongin, making sure the wolf’s pelt he was wearing sat properly on Jeongin’s shoulders. 

“You did well.” 

“I hate it,” Jeongin sobbed. His breaths were coming in short, aborted hiccups that made Changbin step closer to him again. “When will Channie-hyung wake up?” 

Seungmin frowned as he smoothed out the snow-white hair on top of Jeongin’s head. “It’s better for hyung to sleep right now.”

“But he’ll wake up soon?” 

Seungmin looked towards the skylight above them. “Eventually.” 

“Hyung—”

A terribly tight smile appeared on Seungmin’s features. “There is nothing to worry about, Jeongin-ah. The King will wake up when he is ready. Until then, we have to be patient.” 

“I hate being patient.” 

“Patience is a virtue that every great king should have,” Changbin said.

Jeongin looked at him with a pout. “But I don’t want to be king.” 

And I pray that you won’t have to be, Changbin thought, covering his thoughts up with a smile. 

“I know. Is there something you do want, though?” Changbin stroked the prince’s hair like Seungmin had done. “Anything I can do so you don’t feel so anguished?”

Jeongin thought about this for a moment before his eyes lit up and Changbin saw it then, the wolf inside him. He was young and maybe they’d all spoilt him a little too much growing up, but he was still a Bang. 

“Actually, there is something.”  

*

Minho didn’t like the wolves, mostly because they didn’t like him. 

With his lips pressed together, he watched as Jeongin rolled around on the floor of the war room, giggling as the pups walked and slobbered all over him. A part of Minho still couldn’t believe that no one had kept this from happening. 

Jeongin had sent Changbin into the woods to bring him a direwolf puppy and the knight had returned with three. 

“One for every monster the dragonlords have,” Changbin had said. 

Minho suspected that his friend had more so found the pups huddled together in the woods and couldn’t bear to leave any of them behind. Minho also wasn’t so sure how the drooling, gnawing balls of fur were supposed to aid them in a war, but caring for the direwolf pups had brought the smile back to Jeongin’s face and that was worth a lot in everyone’s books, including Minho’s. 

More importantly, the direwolf pups did adore their new master in return. It was everyone else they snapped their teeth at. Or maybe it was just Minho, who had learned the hard way to keep his hands behind his back if he tried to approach Jeongin while the pups were around. 

“Jeongin.” 

It took a couple of minutes, but finally Jeongin pulled himself to his feet. Ignoring the yipping and growling at his feet, Minho reached out to wipe the slobber off Jeongin’s cheeks before he led him over to the war table. The direwolf pups followed at Jeongin’s heel like a row of ducklings. 

“I’ve reached out to some friendly courtiers in the Riverlands, the Westerlands as well as the Reach. All of them have reported back to me that Hyunjin has given no order to send their armies northbound.” 

Jeongin perked up. “That’s good, right?”

Minho hummed. He watched as Jeongin picked up one of the direwolf pups, the younger prince cooing as he buried his face in the pup’s snow white fur. 

Minho forced his voice to remain gentle, to let none of the tension he felt show on his face. “Jeongin-ah.” He waited until Jeongin was looking at him before he said, “I think we should move first.”

Jeongin frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I think I should write home and ask my mother to gather our army. If the North and the Vale combine forces and we take the dragonlords by surprise, our chances at overpowering them will be the greatest they’ve ever been.” 

Jeongin blinked, clearly not understanding. “But I just told Hyunjin that we won’t do anything until Channie-hyung is better.”

“And you think Hyunjin will have that much patience?” 

Jeongin’s expression crumbled, his eyes falling to the war table. His voice was terribly insecure when he said, “I…I don’t know. Do you really think we have to fight?” 

“No,” a third voice said. 

Minho flinched. He turned to find Seungmin by the door. He hadn’t even heard the maester come in. 

Seungmin smiled at Jeongin as he walked over. The direwolves pups yipped at him, but in tail-wagging excitement, not warning. Minho found that unfair. He knew for a fact that Seungmin wasn’t a fan of the pups either. 

Still, Seungmin smiled as he scratched the one Jeongin was holding behind the ear. “Those puppies look hungry, Jeongin-ah. Why don’t you take them to the kitchens? I’m sure the cooks have some scraps for them.” 

Jeongin, visibly relieved at having been given an excuse to escape his duties, immediately started moving towards the door, leading his pack of wolf puppies as if he was one of them. 

Minho was about to follow him when Seungmin called him back, “Minho.”

Minho turned to stare at his friend.  

Seungmin was no longer smiling. “May I talk to you for a moment?” 

“Of course.” Minho blinked. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped trying to whisper into Jeongin’s ear.” 

Minho felt his heart skip a beat inside his chest. He fought very hard to keep his face relaxed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Seungmin stared at him, decisive and unimpressed. He didn’t sound angry as he spoke, only disappointed and that made Minho’s heart continue to seize painfully. “Jeongin worships you, Minho, almost as much as he worships Channie-hyung.” Seunmin’s expression did darken then. “I will not let you use that to your advantage.” 

“I really don’t know what you mean,” Minho said, trying very hard not to sound petulant.

Seungmin wouldn’t let him get away with it. He didn’t. 

“You’re trying to start a war, a war the North isn’t prepared for and Jeongin couldn’t lead.”   

“Jeongin is the King as long as Chan is unwell.” 

“Jeongin is a child,” Seungmin hissed, “who is possibly grieving the last living family member he has while trying to lead a kingdom under siege.”

“And I’m trying to free us of that siege!”

“You’re trying to save yourself!” 

Minho thought that he would have preferred it if Seungmin had slapped him outright. It hurt. The only thing that could hurt him was the truth. The only thing he could defend himself with was the truth.

“How dare you say that,” he whispered, “when you know I’m as loyal to you as I am to myself.” 

Seungmin shook his head, discarding Minho’s words, and that hurt maybe most of all. “What we are to you does not replace the ties you have to your home, Minho. I do not hold it against you, what you’re trying to do, but I will not let you start a war neither the North nor the Vale will be able to finish.”

“You…” Minho’s lungs felt tight all of a sudden. “You don’t know that! It’d be two armies against three dragons! There’s a chance!” 

“There is not!” It was so terribly rare that Seungmin raised his voice. “Look at what is around you, Minho! We could gather a hundred armies and it still would not be enough!” 

Minho shook his head. “Is that really what you think?”

“I think we can be grateful Winterfell is not being molten as we speak. Do you still not understand that? How lucky we are that, beneath all the madness, Hyunjin has found the willingness to just accept our decision not to move forward with negotiations until Chan is better? He seemed fucking sorry about it too. The conqueror who razed an entire city on a whim!” 

Minho shook his head, appalled. “What you’re saying is treason. There is nothing to be grateful for. The conqueror is not—He’s not merciful! You just said it yourself, he destroyed Sunspear on a whim! Do you think the Dornish felt any of his mercy?”

Seungmin stared at him, stared and stared until he stared at the ground beneath them. 

Minho frowned. “What? 

Seungmin shook his head. His voice came out a lot more quietly than before, “There were whispers.” 

Minho’s frown deepened. “Whispers of what?”

“Nothing you’d believe me, or which would change your mind.” 

Minho scoffed. “So it is nothing at all.” 

Seungmin scowled. “Do not pretend I’m not right, Minho. You’ve seen Chan. Do I really have to make you take another look at him for you to see what is right in front of you?” 

“I’m looking, Seungmin! I’m looking nowhere else! Chan is my friend too! My friend who gave the dragonlords his ear and look where that got him!” 

“And could you stomach it if Chan died trying to end a war you started? If someone else had to give his life? Are you willing to light the pyre for Changbin? For Jeongin?” 

Minho shook his head. “That’s not—”

“That’s what happens during war, Minho. People die.” 

Minho’s chest hurt. “So you truly wish for Chan to bend the knee when he returns?” 

“I wish for him to live.” Seungmin looked just as upset as Minho felt. “I wish for the North and for the Vale to live.”  

“On our knees.”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Minho looked down. His eyes stung and he couldn’t get rid of that, no matter how much he blinked. He blinked tears out of his eyes when Seungmin cradled his face, bringing their foreheads together. 

“I know what you’re thinking, Minho. My friend, I’m begging you to see reason. You cannot win against a dragon and it’d be foolish to try. Do not do this to yourself, or your people or us, who love you just as much.” 

Minho swallowed against the lump in his throat. “The Vale depends on me.” 

“And you will still be their king. Don’t poke the dragon, Minho. I can’t—I can’t bear to see you meet the same fate as Chan. Do not make me see you like that. I can’t bear it another time.”

Now it was Seungmin who was crying and how could Minho have not cried with him. 

“I’m sorry,” Minho sobbed because he was sorry. He was sorry to Seungmin and Chan and Jeongin and himself. 

Seungmin shook his head, wiping both their tears. “It will all be well. The gods won’t smite us. We’ll live, and we’ll live well, even if it’s at the behest of someone else.” 

Every fibre inside Minho bristled at the thought, but he didn’t want to argue any longer. 

“I hope so,” was all he had to offer. 

Seungmin smiled at him. “Come,” he said. “Let’s go to the kitchens and see whether they have some scraps for us too.”

“Can I see Chan afterwards?” Minho held onto his friend’s shoulder. “Just to…you know.”

“I know. I’ll take both you and Jeongin to see him after dinner.”

Minho nodded. That sounded like a plan. It sounded like a better plan than what he’d come up with. 

When they reached the kitchens, Jeongin’s direwolves yipped at him, but they did not growl like before. 

*

Seungmin did not pray like his friends. He was a man of reason, of study and devotion to the observable and so it seemed almost comical, in hindsight, that he was the one who was visited by a god in the night. 

It started with a gentle rasp of knuckles against the doors of his chambers. 

The soft knocking wouldn’t have been enough to wake him under normal circumstances, but he’d spent so many nights counting the breaths of his king, fearful the next one might be Chan’s last, that even the slightest sound was enough to have him sitting upright in bed at that point. 

The knocking repeated and this time, Seungmin hastily pulled on his robes, dutifully layering his maester chain around his neck before he hurried to open the door. 

He was not prepared for purple eyes to greet him. He was not afraid to say, “You’re not welcome here.”

“I know.”

They stared at each other, Seungmin and the god that must have been born from dragonfire. Seungmin sighed and opened the door. He moved towards the table with his instruments. 

“Do not mistake me for an easy target, dragon prince. I’m a knight of the mind, but I still know how to wield a blade.”

It made Jisung’s lip quirk up in the crude imitation of a smile. “I have not come here to hurt you,” the dragon prince’s eyes slid over to the cot in the middle of the room, “or him.” 

Chan was asleep because Seungmin kept him so and Chan was kept on his front because he had no back to lie on. Even in the low light of the fire, the damage to the king’s body was visible. Jisung was staring at it and that made Seungmin want to cover Chan from view, but he couldn’t put any cloth over his king which would have touched his back. He couldn’t ban the dragon prince from the room either. 

He knew it would have been foolish to try. 

Out of all three dragonlords, Jisung was by far the most elusive. Seungmin had seen very little of him so far, but the times that Jisung had accompanied one of his brothers to the castle, the distaste Jisung held for the Northerners had been palpable. 

It meant there had to be a reason he was here now. 

Jisung moved forward, stopping only when Seungmin did the same. They stared at each other, Seungmin clutching the scalpel hidden in the folds of his robe until Jisung inclined his head, giving way to Seungmin’s authority as the maester in the room. 

“May I take a closer look at your king?”

“To what end?” 

Jisung’s smile widened. There wasn’t a single ounce of happiness in his expression. “I mean no harm.” 

Seungmin couldn’t help but scoff. It came out a little more high-pitched than he would have liked, probably due to the fact that he was terrified. “You mean no more harm than the one you’ve already caused?” 

“Your King decided to dance with a dragon and found out what happens if you do.” The slight, rolling accent underlying the dragon prince’s words worked to make them sound all the more condescending, as if Jisung was cursing him in two languages at once. “That is not my fault.”

Seungmin was good at containing himself. He was going to, if only because there was only a couple steps’ distance between Jisung and Chan. “Why are you here?”

“I am here to help.” 

Seungmin was good at containing himself, but he was very bad at hiding his expression. Now it was him staring at Jisung with contempt. “I don’t know how you could.” 

Jisung looked scarily like his dragon when he showed his teeth. Dressed in layers of emerald green fabric, the rest of him looked like it too. His hand wandered into his pocket. Seungmin feared for some kind of weapon, but what he offered Seungmin was a vial. The liquid inside was iridescent black. 

Jisung pushed the vial into his hand. “Spread this over the wolf king’s back, once in the morning and once in the evening.”

“What is this?”

“The blood of my brother.”

Seungmin furrowed his brows. “The blood of your…”

Jisung let out an annoyed sigh. “Tyvaro,” he said. “ Zaldrīzes ānogar. Dragon blood.”

Seungmin nearly dropped the vial, his hands got so sweaty all of a sudden. “This is dragon blood?” 

He stared at the vial in disbelief, reflexively raising it against the light like he’d been taught at the Citadel. How? he wanted to ask. How could you possibly have this and still be alive? 

“How can I be sure this isn’t poison instead of an ointment?” he asked instead, curling his fingers around the glass so he didn’t accidentally drop it. It was probably the rarest substance he’d ever held. “And if it’s not, how can I be sure that it’ll work to help my king?” 

Jisung’s lips quirked again in that imitation of a smile. “You are a Maester, asking so many questions.”

Seungmin did his best not to scowl. “I have to know.” 

Jisung stared at him before he sighed. For a moment, Seungmin believed to see something akin to pain in his eyes before it vanished behind a carefully crafted mask of derisive nothingness. Slowly, Jisung’s gloved hands came up to peel away the layers of green fabric keeping him warm until only the tight, black riding leather underneath were left. Then, he started undoing the thin, laced leather straps keeping the front of his shirt together. 

Seungmin watched him in confusion, then disbelief, then abject horror. 

“It will work,” Jisung said, stepping towards the fireplace so Seungmin could see better. 

Seungmin wished that he wouldn’t have. He nearly did drop the vial of dragon blood this time. A part of him, the one that was a maester, wanted to reach out and offer his help. The rest of him wanted to turn around and throw up. 

“This can’t be,” he whispered as he took in every inch of shiny red, scarred-over skin covering Jisung’s upper body. There was so much of it. From the neck down, it was almost all of him, covering him in welts and rows and Seungmin was still only looking at half of the dragon prince’s body. He doubted the scarring stopped at Jisung’s waistline. 

“Changbin said you’re immune to dragon fire.” The words nearly got stuck in Seungmin’s throat. “How...”

“This wasn’t dragon fire.” 

“But—” 

Jisung’s eyes flashed and Seungmin immediately shut his mouth, ducking his head in apology. He had no right to pry. Jisung had already shown him so much. Seungmin knew to keep his head bowed as Jisung redressed. 

“Use the blood,” Jisung said as he moved towards the door. Despite everything, Seungmin couldn’t help but feel relieved at the sight of him leaving. “I will bring you more if you run out.” 

Seungmin clutched the vial in his hand. Thank you, he should have said. “I’m sorry,” is what slipped out of his mouth. 

Jisung looked at him with nothing but derision. “My brother will be sad if the wolf king dies and I don’t allow that. What hurts him hurts me and I hate being in pain. So ensure that the wolf king lives, Maester, for all our good.”

The last sentence was a warning, Seungmin understood that perfectly well. He bowed again. “I will.” 

Jisung left like he’d come. Quietly, without a fuss, resembling more of an apparition in the night than a real person. If not for the vial in his hand, Seungmin might have believed him to having been a dream. 

Seungmin tasted bile again as he looked down at the vial. 

He was no fool. He’d spent almost a third of his life in the Citadel. He knew all kinds of ointments and potions and ingredients. Dragon blood wasn’t any type of herb or tallow. This was blood magic. Maesters like Seungmin, who believed in the science of study, did not trifle with blood magic. He never would have, but…

With his eyes closed, he recalled the sight of Jisung’s torso and arms. There had been bones and fat and muscle and skin covering it. Scarred, but healed. Healed. Seungmin wanted that for his king. He needed that for his friend. 

With shaking fingers, he uncorked the vial and allowed just a drop of the thick blood to hit the back of his hand. It tingled. It did not hurt, or cause injury. 

“Please,” he begged as he approached the cot in the middle of the room. Whether he was asking Chan or the gods, he did not know, “Please, forgive me.” 

*

He woke up on his stomach, face pressed into soft furs draped over a hard surface. A groan rose up his throat. He tried to get up but found that he couldn't. 

Panic set in, but then a familiar voice called his name, “Chan!” 

Chan blinked, slow. Not many people called him by his name. Not many people were allowed to.

“’lix?” he slurred. 

“Oh, hyung!” Seungmin’s harried face pushed into his field of vision. “I’m so glad to see you awake!”

Seungmin, Chan tried to say but couldn't. He tried to lift his head but couldn't. Speaking seemed like a gargantuan task, but he had to try. 

“S’ng…” he slurred. “...‘can’t feel m’ body…”

He was no longer panicking because Seungmin was here and Chan knew Seungmin would have poisoned the entire kingdom to keep him safe, but the distraught look on the maester’s face wasn’t reassuring.

It got worse when Seungmin’s expression crumbled further. “I know. I know and I’m sorry. I had to sedate you. You wouldn’t stop screaming whenever I let you be awake so—” 

Chan’s eyes widened in shock. “S’date me?” 

Seungmin, his most eloquent friend, the smartest man he’d ever known, could do nothing but whimper in reply. Chan felt a surge of panic come up his throat that tasted like bile. 

He thought of a silver-haired boy under the golden sun. He thought about orange fire scorching the earth. His back, even though he couldn’t feel it, throbbed. 

“Fe…lix,” he asked again, making sure to get all the letters out so Seungmin knew who he was talking about, “‘s alive?” 

Seungmin’s face lost all expression. “He is.” 

Chan furrowed his brows, or at least he thought he did. “Hurt?” he asked instead. 

Seungmin scoffed. “Last time I saw him, not a hair on his head was out of place.”

Chan frowned. He didn’t understand. “Last time you saw ‘im?” 

“Our guests have wisely decided to remain outside of the castle for the time being. It’s been a couple of weeks since your precious prince has shown his face.” 

“Weeks?” Chan would have shot up at that if he’d had control over his muscles. As it was, he only got to lift his head before it thunked back down onto the table below him. 

Seungmin’s expression softened and his eyes welled up with tears. The sight was more unsettling than any other. Chan hadn’t seen Seungmin cry since he returned from the Citadel two years ago. 

“Se’ngmin.” 

“Hyung.” Seungmin’s hands shook as touched Chan’s head, patting the hair as if he couldn’t quite believe Chan was still here, as if he didn’t dare touch him anywhere else. “You got hurt really badly.” 

A silver-haired boy under the golden sun. Orange fire scorching the earth and him. And him. Chan’s back throbbed again. 

“H’w bad?” 

Seungmin’s gaze wandered lower, wandered to where Chan believed to feel something. “Your head and most of your legs were spared, but your back…There was no skin left on it when they brought you to me so I couldn’t—I can do a lot but I’m not a god, hyung, even the blood couldn’t do a miracle.” 

Chan frowned. He didn’t understand what Seungmin was saying, but he understood that his friend was distressed. 

“M’nnie,” he said gently. 

Seungmin scoffed at the name Chan had last called him when he’d been twelve. He wiped his tears, determination replacing them. “You will live, hyung. You will live and you will rule, but your body, it won’t…it won’t ever look like it did before. ”

Chan blinked, trying to imagine it. Trying to feel anything below his neck. “Scars?”

“More like one, big, ugly scar covering your entire backside.”

Chan blinked. He failed to imagine it. He watched Seungmin watch him, clearly anxious to see his reaction, and forced the corner of his mouth into an upwards quirk. 

“‘S okay. ‘S gonna distract from my big nose.” 

Seungmin laughed, choked up and heartbroken and then he burst into tears. 

“You have to live, hyung. Please , don’t scare us like that again.” 

Chan couldn’t move, couldn’t feel most of his body, but he did feel it when a single tear escaped from his own eye. 

He couldn’t feel the pain yet, but he could feel the grief. 

*

Chan drifted off shortly after Seungmin had forced some broth and soaked bread into him. 

Apparently, Seungmin had woken him up periodically throughout the days to get some food and water into him, but Chan couldn’t remember any of that. He could only remember the beautiful dreams he’d had while he’d been asleep. 

He did not dream when he fell asleep this time, but that was fine with him. The sight that greeted him when he opened his eyes at sunrise the next morning was all the more beautiful. 

His family was here. 

Seungmin’s bed was no broader than the cot Chan was lying on, yet Minho, Seungmin and Jeongin had managed to fit themselves onto the slim mattress. Only the tufts of Minho’s auburn hair were visible where he was pressed against the wall while Seungmin was caught in the middle. He’d slung both arms around Jeongin’s middle, holding the youngest like a stuffed toy so he wouldn’t fall off the bed. 

Chan’s eyes widened when he spotted the three dozing direwolf pups snoring away by the hand Jeongin had hanging off the bed, as if he’d fallen asleep petting them. Chan would have liked to know who was responsible for that particular addition to the family, but he could take a guess.

He could think of only one man brave enough to wander into the Northern woods alone and come back out with three direwolf pups and his life. 

Chan found Changbin sitting by the door, back leaned against the wall and mouth slack where he was asleep. His sword was laid across his lap, the tip pressed against the door so it would alert Changbin if it opened. 

“Bin-ah,” Chan called out softly. He didn’t want to wake the others. Besides, it hurt his throat to try and speak. He frowned when Changbin didn’t rouse. 

“Bin-ah,” he tried again and this time, Changbin did wake. 

At once, his friend jerked upwards, sword held tightly in his hand as he jumped to his feet, wildly looking around. His sword clattered to the ground when he saw Chan awake. 

Chan tried for a smile, even if he was very much struggling to get himself into a sitting position. His arms didn’t want to carry his weight and it was harder to get up since he was still lying on his stomach. 

Changbin was by his side in a second, helping him to sit straddling the cot. Chan breathed heavily at the strain and he could feel how taut and tender his back was, but it did not hurt. Not as much as he’d expected, at least. 

Still, he did not find the strength to sit upright by himself. Changbin had to hold onto him, digging his fingers into Chan’s stomach. He clearly didn’t dare put his hands anywhere near Chan’s backside. Chan let himself fall against his friend, resting his forehead against Changbin’s shoulder. For now, being even half-way upright was already enough. 

“Does it hurt, hyung? 

Chan shook his head, but regretted the movement when he felt the world spin a little. “‘m fine.”

Changbin laughed, wet and terrified. “Liar.”

“I will be,” Chan amended. 

“Never do that again, yeah? When I saw you, I really thought—”

“‘s not that easy to get rid of me.” Changbin huffed and Chan smiled, even if it hurt his face. “You’ve been keeping them safe?”

“Of course.” 

“Good. ” It was very strenuous to keep himself upright so Chan let Changbin help him lie back down. By now, the furs felt almost comforting against his face. 

He could feel Changbin stare at him. 

“How’s it look?” 

Changbin was silent for a moment before he said, “You met a dragon and you won, hyung. Now you bear the mark of a victor.”

Chan smiled, feeling a little bit of drool slip from the corner of his mouth. “Doesn’t feel like I won, though.” 

A hand on his ankle, once more as far away from his injury as Changbin could put his hand. Chan was not going to point out how teary Changbin’s voice sounded when he said, “You did. I’m talking to you right now, so you did.”

Chan supposed he couldn’t argue with that. Knowing that Changbin would continue to keep watch, he allowed his eyes to slip close. He was surrounded by his family so it was fine to sleep a little more. 

*

The conqueror was running out of patience.

Changbin could tell that he was. It made Changbin hover even closer to Jeongin than usual. It made him wonder whether he was going to see Hyunjin pull his sword after all. Maybe that was why Hyunjin had brought his brother. 

It was the first time Changbin was seeing Felix after weeks and while there was no denying that Felix was one of the most beautiful men Changbin had ever seen—right after his brother—he did look…worse for wear. There were deep rings under his eyes and his movements looked almost sluggish, as if he’d not moved for so long he’d forgotten how to use his limbs. 

In all honesty, it reminded Changbin a little bit of Chan. 

“We’re just asking to see it for ourselves ,” Hyunjin said, his tone not as kind as before. 

“And I’ve told you,” Jeongin’s voice no longer trembled as he sat on the throne. Eversince Chan had woken up, he’d regained his confidence in the knowledge that he would not have to bear the crown for much longer, “the king lives. That is all we have to say.”

“He has woken up.” Felix took a step forward. “We know he has woken up so I’d—” Felix’s gaze slid over to his brother— “we would like to see him.” 

When Felix took another step forward, Changbin did too. “You can have an audience when the king returns to his throne.”

Felix glared at Changbin for speaking up. He had never done that before, but it seemed that whatever had motivated Felix to enter the castle was also making him glower at everyone who was putting themselves between him and Chan. 

Changbin halfway expected him to start stomping his foot like a child if they denied him any longer. 

Jeongin sighed. “Ser Changbin is right. You can see my brother when—”

Jeongin didn’t get much further in his reply when the doors to the throne room opened. At once, Changbin was both filled with immense relief and immense concern. Instinctively, he moved forward as his king approached. 

Slowly, step by step, with one arm slung over Seungmin’s shoulder, Chan was crossing the throne room. He was walking. He was walking and that fact alone was nearly enough to bring tears to Changbin’s eyes. 

He could tell the guards were just as overwhelmed as he was by the reappearance of their king so Changbin didn’t hesitate to yell out, “Everyone bow! The King in the North has come!” 

It was his voice that drowned out Felix’s whispered, whimpered almost, “Chan,” closely followed by Jeongin’s cry of excitement. It startled the direwolf pups at his feet, making them jump up and bark and adding to the cacophony of noise. 

Throughout it all, Changbin watched Hyunjin, watched the way the tension bled out of the other man’s shoulders. Hyunjin nearly slumped with relief, which looked wrong on a man who held the reins to an entire continent. 

Felix wasn’t as subtle. Where he’d gone stock-still, he almost lurched forward when Chan reached him, but Chan passed him by. He didn’t stop, didn’t direct his gaze anywhere but the throne. Changbin hurried to join his king by his side, helping him up the stairs.

Grabbing onto Chan’s arm made him realise that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Chan’s upper body was bare so ascending the stairs revealed his back to the room at large. Everyone could see the marred, red skin covering his back, from his neck down to the waistline of his trousers. He was going to heal, but he was never going to be unmarked. 

The air in the room shifted with it, everyone falling silent. The only noise was Jeongin, who sprung up when Chan reached the throne, moving out of the way for him. For the King. 

“Chan,” Felix said again, looking very close to storming up the steps to the throne. 

Changbin was going to pull his sword the second he did. Hyunjin seemed to know this, or realise it, because he fisted his hand into the back of Felix’s cloak, keeping him where he was.

Felix needn’t have worried. Chan finally seemed willing to look at him. He leaned forward on his throne, the exposed muscles of his abdomen flexing with the movement. Changbin hoped no one but him noticed the faint tremble running up Chan’s arms when he used them to keep himself upright on his throne. 

“Chan,” Felix said again, sounding so close to awe, so close to tears. 

And Chan smiled at him. “I heard you were asking for an audience.”

Felix nodded. “I did, I—”

“So I’ve come.” Chan smiled at Felix and for the first time in his life, Changbin couldn’t read the expression in his best friend’s eyes. “I am here, Felix, so you may ask me.”

“Your Grace.” 

Chan’s gaze slid over to Hyunjin. “No, not you. I’m speaking with your brother, if you’d allow us.” 

Hyunjin pressed his lips shut and Changbin felt the weird urge to put himself in between them. To protect whom, he didn’t know. 

“Ask me, Felix,” Chan repeated, looking at Felix again, smiling at him with earnestness in his eyes, “if it’s you who asks, I will reply.” 

Notes:

ask the question, felix!!

if you liked this chapter, i'd love to hear what you think below!! <3 every kudos and comment is very much appreciated <3<3

more writing things on my twt

Chapter 5: on the winds that started from within

Notes:

Keligon! = Stop!
lēkia = older brother

Felix was going to betray his brother. He was going to betray his brother and his dragon and every promise he’d made them. 

He wished he would’ve had a choice. 

Slowly, deliberately, he set a foot onto the first of the stone steps leading up to the throne. Immediately, Changbin drew his sword, but Chan raised his hand and Changbin stood down. There was curiosity in Chan’s eyes as if he, too, wanted to see what Felix was going to do. 

Felix willed himself to be brave and took another step up the stairs. Changbin twitched, but he wasn’t going to disobey his king’s order. At least, Felix hoped so. He’d come without his sword, Dark Sister, but Hyunjin had Blackfyre strapped to his belt. If things went awry, they should’ve at least been able to make it out of the castle. 

The moment he reached the last of the steps, he drew a shuddering breath. Chan was smiling at him. He’d never quite done it so openly. He’d never looked quite as handsome as he looked in the light of the torches on the wall and the sunlight falling in through the skylight above.

Slowly, Felix lowered himself to his knees. He was not supposed to do that. He had the ancient blood of Valyria in his veins. He was a dragonrider and yet he was willing to kneel for this. 

Felix felt a sob built in his throat. He was going to betray all he had come for, and yet he could not change the words that came out of his mouth. A single question was what he’d been granted, and he was going to waste it, just because he could not bear to lose the fondness with which the King in the North was looking at him. 

“Do you forgive me?” 

Strained silence fell across the room. Felix could hear Changbin’s confused breath and the way the guards’ armor clanked as they shifted in unease. Hyunjin was silent, but Felix had known he would be. 

Chan’s eyes never left him. The corner of his mouth twitched. His eyes widened before they crinkled, dimples digging into his cheeks and at once, Felix felt like he could breathe again. 

Chan reached for him and Felix scrambled to grab onto his hands, covering the burn marks on the back of Chan’s palms with his own. He pressed his forehead to Chan’s knuckles like he’d seen Chan press his hand to the weirwood tree which was holy to him. 

Felix prayed that no one could see the tears gathering in his eyes. Chan freed one of his hands to stroke his hair, to tip his chin up so Felix was forced to look at him. 

“I forgive you, Felix, even if I have never blamed you for what has happened.” 

But it is my fault, Felix wanted to argue. Solar is my bonded dragon. She does whatever it takes to protect me. If I hadn’t been afraid of the wolf, she would not have burnt you. 

None of these words made it over his lips. Chan had given him his forgiveness. Felix was not going to argue with him like a petulant child. He was too greedy not to take advantage of Chan’s blindness towards his faults. 

“Thank you,” he said instead, hoarse and quiet. 

Chan leaned forward on his throne, bringing their faces so close together that Felix’s world reduced to the sight of him, that no one else could hear it when Chan said, “I dreamt of you when I was asleep, little dragon. I saw you in my dreams and yet nothing compares to the sight of the real you.” 

Felix couldn’t help the wretched, happy sob that escaped him. He’d asked so often what Chan thought of him and now Chan was finally telling him he was beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” he blubbered. 

Chan gently grasped onto his chin, tilted his head upwards so Felix couldn’t hang his head and couldn’t look away from him either. 

“There is nothing to forgive, Felix.” It was the stern, inevitable tone of Chan’s voice that calmed the thundering heart inside Felix’s chest. He’d spoken like a king, but the way he looked at Felix was different. 

Once more, Chan smiled at him and Felix felt his heart race for a different reason. Instinctively, his eyes dropped to Chan’s mouth. He still remembered how it had felt to kiss him. He wished Chan would kiss him now. Chan seemed to know what he was thinking because his smile widened. 

He didn’t kiss Felix. 

Instead, he cradled Felix’s face and brought their foreheads together and somehow, that was even better. It made Felix feel connected to him in a way he’d last felt when he’d felt the first crack of Solar’s egg underneath his finger tips. Just like her, Chan was someone, maybe, that was made for him. The thought alone brought a fresh wave of tears to Felix’s eyes.  

“Stop crying now, little dragon. I am here and you are here too. That is all that matters.” 

Felix nodded, unwilling not to press himself closer into Chan’s open arms. He hadn’t asked the question he’d been supposed to ask, but it was easy to forget that at the moment. The price he’d have to pay still felt distant. Felix could not bring himself to worry about it when Chan was here, holding him in his arms. 

*

Hyunjin watched the wolf king embrace his little brother and left. 

There were no guards to stop him, or pay him much mind at all, really, since most of them were too busy gawking at their king. It made Hyunjin want to laugh in the way he often did when he felt like his skin was too tight to contain all that was inside. 

The cold helped. He knew Felix and Jisung preferred warmer climates, but Hyunjin liked the colder weather. It felt grounding whenever the icy winds passed over his skin. What might have felt like knives to others, felt like a gentle caress to him. 

The main gate was open so Hyunjin could have left the castle right away. He headed for the western wall instead, ascending the narrow stone staircase leading up to the wall walk. It was even colder up here and, despite the whipping winds, peacefully quiet. 

Tipping his head backwards, Hyunjin breathed in deeply. The endless grey sky in the North looked nothing like the ashy, burning sky he’d seen in his dreams once upon a time and that was the reason Hyunjin loved looking at it. They were a far ways away from home and maybe, just maybe, it finally felt far enough.  

The faintest tinkle of metal alerted him that he was no longer alone. 

Hyunjin had to give it to him, the knight was good—better than most men Hyunjin had met, really—but the armour he wore was still clanky and Hyunjin had sharp ears. 

He turned his head with a smile. “Have you come to give me your coat after all?” 

Standing only a couple of steps away on the wall walk, Changbin was staring at him with a furrow between his brows. Hyunjin didn’t miss the way he had one hand wrapped around the pommel of his sheathed sword. 

He raised a brow. “Or have you come to get rid of me after all?” 

The weight of Blackfyre against his hip was reassuring, even if Hyunjin wasn’t a good swordsman. He’d be able to hold his own for long enough that Morghon could reach him, should things go awry, and that was all that mattered. Even now, Hyunjin could see his dragon linger close-by, an insurmountable mountain of black dread resting between the hills outside of the castle. 

“I do not wish to hurt you.” 

Changbin’s voice was so firm. Hyunjin wondered whether being embraced by him would feel just as firm. 

He smiled, enjoying the way it ensnared Changbin. “Careful, my darling knight, treat me so nicely and I will consider it a sign of adoration.” 

“I don’t adore you,” Changbin’s fingers clenched around the handle of his sword. Hyunjin was very careful not to let his smile fall. “I just don’t wish you any harm.” 

“Well, no one is here to harm me.” Except for you. Hyunjin let his shoulders fall simply because it was easier to breathe that way. He looked at Changbin and decided that he didn’t feel like torturing him today. “You may leave me alone, Ser Changbin. I promise I will leave the castle as soon as my brother is willing to do the same.” 

“Uh, well…” Changbin coughed, looking very embarrassed all of a sudden. “That might take a while.” 

Hyunjin felt a surge of terror. He masked it by gasping in mock-excitement. “Did I miss something salacious after I left?” 

“No!” Changbin vehemently shook his head. “No, of course not! Chan would never—they’re just talking.”

Hyunjin hummed, allowing the smile to return to his features. “Like we are?” 

Changbin stared at him, open-mouthed before he snapped it shut. “Do you have to make everything so—” He cut himself off with a frustrated groan. 

“So…what?”

The knight glared at him. “It’s unbecoming of you to act this way.” 

Hyunjin actually laughed out loud at that. Really, it felt like a lot of tension left him at once and at once, he fit inside his body again. 

“Says who?” he challenged. 

He didn’t miss the way Changbin’s ears turned red when Changbin realised he had no answer to that. Not one that would have impressed Hyunjin, at least. Changbin huffed and looked out onto the lands. Hyunjin suspected he did it so he didn’t have to look at Hyunjin. 

“You’re impossible.” 

“You’re the one who called me ‘unbecoming.’ Don’t you think that warrants an apology, my darling knight?” 

Changbin glanced at him before he looked back out on the lands, back at Hyunjin’s dragon. “I apologise,” he said, sounding surprisingly sincere. “That was rude of me. You are…not unbecoming.” 

“Mhm.” Hyunjin nodded, ignoring the way his heart felt squished inside his chest. He waved his hand. “Praise me more.” 

Changbin spluttered. “What?” 

“You heard me.”  

“I…”

“Yes?” Hyunjin tilted his head, smiling the longer he looked at Changbin and saw how red he got. “Is it really so hard to think of a pleasant thing to say about me?” 

In the distance, Morghon shifted to shake out his wings before he settled back into the grass. Changbin saw it too. Yet, he managed to look away from Morghon to look at Hyunjin instead, who was a lot less interesting and nothing at all, really, without his dragon. 

A tiny furrow appeared between Changbin’s brows. “You care a lot.”

Hyunjin couldn’t help the way his breath hitched in surprise. He’d been called a lot of things before, most of them unkind, but if there was something positive the people of this continent had to say about him, it was that he was beautiful. Stunning. Breath-taking, really, if he dared to say so himself. 

Not once had someone praised his character. No one could have, because no one knew what he was really like. It was why Changbin’s words shocked him. Changbin was right, was the thing. Hyunjin would have just never expected him to have noticed such a thing. 

“I…do.” There was little else Hyunjin could do but admit it. 

Changbin smiled at him and Hyunjin felt this need inside him to say, Don’t stop looking at me like that. Don’t stop looking at me.

“But how’d you know?” 

Greed. It was something that had always lived inside Hyunjin. He believed that it was part of why Morghon had chosen him. Now, he was greedy for Changbin to tell him more, praise him more, look at him and not look away. 

Changbin didn’t. 

“When we rode out on the hunt, you kept pestering me, but your attention was always on your little brothers as well. Right now, you are standing here, on the wall of your enemy’s castle despite the fact that a single stab of my sword could end your conquest early. And you’re doing it simply because your little brother is still inside the throne room. You may have no regard for anyone else, but you do care about your brothers a great deal. I find that reassuring.” 

Hyunjin blinked several times to force back all the different emotions inside of him. It was dangerous for him to feel too much all at once. 

“Reassuring?” 

“You love your brothers, so there must be something inside you that is capable of loving. It makes me feel like not all is lost.” 

Hyunjin couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward, grinning too broadly. He had to ruin it. He had to ruin it, because basking in the way Changbin looked at him was one thing, but letting himself be known was another. 

So, he deflected, “Because you wish for me to love you?” 

For some reason, Changbin didn’t shy away from him. He remained standing right where he stood, steady as a rock. “Because it means there’s a chance you are more great than you are mad.” 

*

Seungmin didn’t allow him very many steps, but Chan used them to take Felix to the godswood once more. It was the least disturbed place Chan could think of, and he craved to be alone with Felix. 

He’d waited long enough. 

“Are you cold?” he asked Felix, who laughed. 

Felix was so close to him, it was warming Chan from the inside. The fact that he needed to have someone to lean on while he walked was good enough of a reason for their arms to be interlocked. 

“Shouldn’t I ask you the same? You’re the one who is without a coat.” 

Or any type of clothing that would have covered Chan’s upper body, but neither of them was going to point that out. 

“I’m fine.” Instinctively, Chan straightened out his spine, even if it put an even bigger strain on the tender skin covering his back. “I’m built to last the winter.”

“If you say so, My Grace.” 

It felt a lot like what Chan imagined being cradled by the goddess of the moon must have felt like, to be looked at by Felix with such gentle, open concern. Felix was so close to him, so close that, even if subconsciously, he’d started to mirror Chan. He moved when Chan did, tensed when Chan tensed and hissed in pain when Chan hissed in pain. It made Chan all the more aware of himself, his movement and how much of the discomfort he felt was showing on his face. 

However much he tried to hide, it turned out that he wasn’t putting on as good of a front as he thought. 

“Do you want to sit down?” Felix asked, pointing at a fallen tree not too far from them. It would have made for a good enough bench. 

Chan shook his head. “I’ve been lying around for weeks. It’s good for me to walk.” 

He also didn’t want to let go of Felix’s arm, already too used to holding onto him to stop now. It was greed, he supposed. He was a king so he had to be greedy in some capacity. 

Just to prove his point, he patted his own stomach. “I have to make use of my muscles while I still have them.”

“And you have them,” Felix mumbled, eyes glued to Chan’s abdomen before he seemed to remember himself. 

Chan was a king so he supposed that, sometimes, he was allowed to preen. And preen, he did. 

There was no denying that he enjoyed the way Felix was looking at him, that it pleased him to know Felix was flustered by his state of undress, especially after he’d spent so many days being looked upon with pity, being told that he was never going to look the same as he did before. 

Felix didn’t look at him like the marks left on Chan’s body disgusted him. There was only concern in his eyes when his grip on Chan’s elbow tightened. “You still shouldn’t strain yourself so. You say it’s fine now, but it’s going to hurt twice as much if anything tears open again. Trust me, it’s a kind of pain you want to spare yourself from.” 

Chan watched him closely. “You speak as if you’re familiar with this kind of injury.”

Felix looked away. 

Chan knew he shouldn’t have pried, that it was not his place to ask questions, but he couldn’t bear to see the haunted look in Felix’s eyes. “Was there ever…something that hurt you so severely?” 

The thought was almost unbearable. 

Felix shook his head. “I have…seen something like it. It’s not the same and it wasn’t me.” Quieter, he added, “It could have been, but it wasn’t.” 

“I’m sorry.” It was a lame thing to say. It was the only thing Chan could think of at that moment. 

Felix didn’t smile. He didn’t wave Chan off and told him that it was fine, which told Chan that it really must have deeply affected him, whatever he was referring to. 

“You do not have to tell me,” Chan said, “but if it ever is something you wish to talk about, know that I would keep your secret.” 

Felix’s lips curled up in a dire smile. “It’s not really a secret, is it? All of you have had no qualms talking about it so far.” 

Chan frowned. “We have?” 

“I distinctly remember your friend Minho having no problem bringing it up.” Felix’s lips curled in disdain. 

Chan blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

Felix looked at him, really searching his eyes before he looked away. “Do you not know what happened? In Dorne?” 

“Dorne?” Chan blinked at the sudden change in topic. “I know a little bit. I mean, we heard…” …tales of your brother razing an entire city. 

“And what is it that you heard?” 

Chan winced. “Sunspear is gone. Molten by dragonfire.” 

Felix nodded. He sat down on the log he’d pointed out earlier and Chan was glad for it. He had the feeling that this was a conversation one was supposed to have sitting down. He was eternally grateful when Felix still chose to be close to him as they sat, the both of them staring at the creek running by their feet. 

The sun reflected on the water, reflected in Felix’s eyes when he said, “When we first saw it, we thought that the Southern kingdom was the place for us. It was perfect. Dragons love heat and there was so much sun there. Solar would have…It was just a place where we would have liked to stay.” 

Why did you destroy it then? Chan didn’t ask, but Felix could see the question in his eyes anyways. 

“We tried to be peaceful. We really did. We never…We thought it could work. Hyunjin didn’t send Jisung to the king to ask for him to hand over his crown. That was not…That was not how it was at the beginning. We had just landed after days of flying across the ocean. We were asking for refuge.” 

“Refuge?”

There was something in Felix’s eyes, a grief so terrible and deep-rooted that Chan didn’t dare to ask about it. He barely dared to breathe. 

“What happened with the King of Dorne?” Chan asked instead, just to get Felix talking again. 

The grief in Felix’s eyes turned into unadulterated hatred. “He was a king. He was greedy.” 

Chan’s heart stopped beating at once. He was so glad that Felix didn’t see the expression on his face, gaze caught somewhere far away, far back in time. 

“That was how we learned,” Felix spit. “He taught us.”

Chan barely withstood the urge to reach out for him. He wasn’t sure Felix would have appreciated being touched at that moment. “Taught you what?” 

“That all men are greedy, but no one else more so than the ones that wear a crown.” 

Chan wasn’t wearing his, but he could feel its weight. Quietly, he asked, “How so?” 

“The King of Dorne reached for what he shouldn’t have. We offered him protection in exchange for being allowed to stay, but that wasn’t enough. He didn’t want to be protected by dragons. He…He wanted a dragon.” 

“And you didn’t want to give him one of yours.” It wasn’t a question. 

Felix looked like he wanted to spit fire at the mere suggestion. “The only thing that can come between a dragon and their rider is death. The bond is not something that can be broken, or forced or ended.” 

Chan hummed. “I can imagine the King didn’t like that.” 

Felix nodded. For the first time since he had knelt in the throne room, tears gathered in Felix’s eyes. “He hurt my brother. Badly.” 

Chan didn’t have to ask which one. There was only one of the three who held an open distaste for all Westerosi men, who hated to be confined inside the walls of a building and whose dragon showed even more aggression towards strangers than his rider did. 

“What did the Dornish king do to Jisung?” 

It was too much to ask, too prying, but a part of Chan needed to know, needed to understand the pain in Felix’s eyes so that he could alleviate it. 

A dire smile made its way onto Felix’s face as he reached one hand into the air, playing with the beams of sunlight falling through the canopy of trees above. “Fire cannot kill a dragon, but if you try hard and often and for long enough, then even we burn.” 

Chan felt his stomach turn. “Felix.”

Felix wiped at his eyes before any of his tears could fall and when he looked at Chan, there was no remorse in his eyes. “The Dornish king set fire to my brother so we set fire to his city. That’s what happened.” 

Chan closed his eyes and was high above the clouds, seeing a city of glass because glass was what sand turned into when you melted it. A thousand screaming voices echoed in his ears, but none as loud as the grievous screeches of his hatchmate in pain, in pain because his rider was. 

“I understand.” Chan did understand. He understood a lot more things now than he had before.

Felix blinked at him. “You do?”

Chan nodded. “Not everything and not the things you haven’t told me yet, because I know this is not the secret you mentioned to me before, but I…I understand. If someone hurt Jeongin, I would not know where my rage would lead me.” 

Felix nodded and they were quiet for a moment, Chan focussing on his breathing, on Felix’s. 

Eventually, Felix drew in a sharp breath, as if pulling himself from the past. He squared his shoulders. “After that, we knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That there is no man, and certainly no king, that can be trusted. We will never find—We will never be safe until this entire flightless content has bent the knee. Everyone who doesn’t will burn before they can burn us.” 

Chan felt the need to kneel before him right now. “Felix, you have to know that I would never try to take one of your dragons for myself. I would never…do that either.” 

Felix properly turned towards him, his hands coming up to frame Chan’s face. The touch left Chan with his breath stuck in his throat, blinking rapidly as his throat bobbed. 

“I know,” Felix whispered, leaning in as if they were sharing a secret. “This is why you are the one.” 

Chan tilted his head, smiling against the press of Felix’s palms on his cheeks. “The one?” Despite everything, he liked the sound of that. 

Felix smiled at him, ardent and sad and in a way that made Chan wish he’d had the strength to hold onto him more. He thought that maybe Felix would let him. Maybe he would not misunderstand. Chan could have shown him that his dragon was the last thing Chan desired about him. 

He dared to cover Felix’s hands with his own. “I’m sorry, Felix.”

Felix immediately shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry. You are not the one who hurt us.” 

Chan squeezed his hands. “You still had to watch someone you love try and recover.”

A tiny furrow appeared between Felix’s brows, his hands sliding down to Chan’s neck, fingertips brushing over the tender, red skin at the base of Chan’s nape. Chan’s breath hitched and not because it hurt. Felix’s eyes stayed on the patches of scarred, red skin creeping over Chan’s shoulders, marking the beginnings of his scar, when he said, “It’s fine. I’m growing used to doing that.” 

Once more, Chan could only stare at Felix with his breath stuck in his throat. His heart was beating so rapidly in his throat, he could taste it. Felix looked right back at him, the corners of his mouth slowly but surely tilting up the closer Chan came to him. 

Chan hesitated, just for a breath, giving Felix the chance to push him away before he briefly pressed their lips together. It was not a kiss of desire, or one that would have led to anything else. It was simply something meant to show Felix that he was there, and would be. It was a kiss supposed to bring their souls together, not their bodies. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he whispered into Felix’s ear. “It is not something I take for granted, being someone you trust.” 

Felix stared at him, looking a little dazed before he slid his hands from Chan’s neck down to his hands, taking them into his own. He pressed a reverent kiss to Chan’s knuckles, a promise of his own, before he looked up at Chan with faith in his eyes. “I know you won’t betray me.” 

Chan nodded. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t have, even if he’d wanted to. 

As they smiled at each other, he played with Felix’s fingers, brushing his thumb over the delicate, undecorated skin of his ring finger. 

“You didn’t ask me to marry you. In the throne room.” It was something Chan had been wondering about. 

Felix hummed, looking a little embarrassed and then not at all. “I asked you for something I needed, not something I wish for.” 

Chan didn’t miss the second half of Felix’s sentence. “So you wish to marry me? Is that really what you want?” 

He knew that he was going to get a real answer this time. He was not prepared for the smile that bloomed on Felix’s face. 

Felix leaned forward, pressing a searing kiss to his mouth. “Yes,” he whispered against Chan’s lips. “Not for—but because you covered me from the fire. You didn’t know it wouldn’t harm me, so—that makes you worthy.” 

Chan nodded, placing a shaking hand on Felix’s cheek. He could have counted his freckles like this. He would have, if he’d been able to keep his vision from blurring. 

Felix seemed to notice it too. Concern took over his features. “Chan?”

Chan blinked, keeping his eyes closed for just a moment. He needed just a moment to keep the world from spinning. “Just give me a moment.” 

“No!” Felix sprung up. “Let’s go back to the castle!” 

“’s fine,” Chan tried to reassure him, but it was hard to sound convincing when his voice had become so faint. “I’m not that cold.” 

Felix wouldn’t hear any of it. “But—but I am! I am not ‘built for the winter,’ as you say. I…I need fire to keep me warm.” 

I’d light a thousand torches if it meant keeping you by my side. 

Chan kept quiet, accepted the arm Felix offered him. Despite his best efforts, he could no longer hide the way his muscles were quivering with the strain of even a single step. Felix didn’t mention it. He bore a lot more of Chan’s weight than Chan would have liked as they walked back to the entry of the godswood. 

Seungmin was waiting for them by the gate. 

The relief on his face was obvious, quickly overtaken by concern. Chan’s vision was spotty again so he didn’t really notice Seungmin taking Felix’s place until Felix was bowing to him. Chan didn’t like the way that tender expression in his eyes was gone now that they were no longer alone. 

“Thank you for giving me your ear, My Grace. Please, allow me to return to the castle and see you again.” 

“Of course,” Chan choked out and then doubled his efforts to speak without interruption. “You’ll always find refuge here.” 

Felix’s eyes widened, his hand wandering to his heart before he bowed again. Then he was gone, all but running out of the castle. 

“Wow,” Seungmin commented, side-eyeing Chan. “What did you do to the poor dragon prince?” 

“Nothing.” Chan ignored the way his mouth tingled with the phantom press of lips against his own. “I didn’t do anything to him.” 

“Could have fooled me,” Seungmin muttered. 

Chan was too weak to hit him, but he still tried. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” 

And because he was the smartest man Chan knew, Seungmin caught him just before Chan could keel over and land face-first in the dirt. 

“Woah, woah, okay! Changbin! Come here, you useless oaf! Hyungie, can you hear me? Let’s get you back to the maester’s quarters now.” 

Chan wasn’t really in a position to protest, so he didn’t. He did protest, though, when Changbin arrived and tried to carry him back into the castle bridal-style. 

“Woah, absolutely not! I can walk!” 

“But—” Changbin uselessly pawed at him. “You’re shaking like a leaf, hyung.” 

“Your King can walk,” Chan ordered, or tried to. 

“Is this normal?” Changbin asked over his head. 

“It’s because Felix made him weak in the knees,” Seungmin sing-songed. 

“Speak his name again and I’ll have you beheaded,” Chan groaned. 

“Wow. Grumpy.”

Chan could only grunt, too busy blinking the black spots out of his vision to do much else. In the end, he walked back into the castle on his own two feet, even if he had his arms draped over his friends’ shoulders. 

Changbin did carry him the last of the steps into Seungmin’s maester quarters, gently depositing him on his cot. It felt nice, finally being able to lie down, so he didn’t hesitate to close his eyes, letting Seungmin tinker around him. 

He only hissed a little bit when Seungmin started spreading ointment all over his back. 

“You’ve strained yourself too much today.” 

“’m sorry, Minnie,” he slurred. 

Seungmin clacked his tongue. His hand stilled on Chan’s back. “Hyung.”

“Mhm?” 

“What does it feel like?”

Chan hummed. “‘s nice. A little bit like falling, but mostly I’m just glad that he doesn’t seem to hate me anymore.” 

“Wait, what?”

“What?

“What do you mean?”

Chan furrowed his brows. His eyelids were too heavy to open them. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m asking you what the ointment feels like.” 

“Oh.” Chan swallowed, trying to feel his body.  “Feels good. Tingles a little, but…it takes away a lot of the pain ‘nd I feel like my skin doesn’t feel as tight once it seeps in. ‘s nice. Why?” 

Seungmin cleared his throat. “I was just wondering.” 

Seungmin continued spreading the ointment over his back and so Chan let himself drift off. He still couldn’t lie on his back, but that was okay. He’d got used to his cot, padded with a fresh layer of furs. 

He dreamt all the same. 

*

He dreamt and when he dreamt, he dreamt of peace. 

It was quiet in the early hours of the morning and Chan could not have been more content. His little one was sleeping peacefully under his wing. On Chan’s other side, Little Brother was dozing with the hurt one tucked under his wing just the same. Only Elder and the chosen one were missing, but Chan knew they’d return from hunting soon enough. On the horizon, the sun was rising to promise another day. 

It was perfect. 

It was peaceful.

Until Little Brother started screeching in pain. 

*

Chan startled awake, his ears ringing with the echo of a terrible scream. His arms nearly gave out when he tried to push himself upright, but he managed the second time. And then the door to the maester’s quarters flew open. 

“Hyung!” It was Changbin. The knight was panting where he was clinging to the door frame, clearly having run all the way here. “You have to come with me! I fear he might actually kill him this time!” 

“What? Who?” Chan asked, but there was little time to explain as Changbin dragged him off his cot, barely taking the time to help Chan shove his feet into his boots. 

And then they were running. 

Chan stumbled several times, but Changbin was there to pull him up and keep him moving. Chan couldn’t imagine what must have happened for Changbin to spur him so. 

But then he saw. 

Right outside of the castle walls, on the field that the dragons had claimed for themselves, a fight had broken out. Chan instinctively looked for Felix, who he found standing a little ways off to the side, making a valiant effort to keep his dragon from moving any closer to the scene by pressing himself back against her leg. Seeing Solar so agitated made Chan count his lucky stars that Morghon wasn’t there. 

He had no such luck with Tyvaro. The wiry green dragon was outright dancing in agitation, stepping forward then backward again, maw snapping and tail whipping as he hissed. 

Chan could see why. 

Smack-dab in the middle of the field, Minho was lying on the ground, trying to shield his face as Jisung pummeled him. Jisung’s silver hair was sleep-mussed, his shirt half undone, but that didn’t keep him from bringing his fists down on Minho’s body over and over, screaming in anger. Judging by the blood dripping from the dragon rider’s lip, Minho had gotten him good too. 

Tyvaro screeched as his rider fought and Chan’s heart sank as he saw iridescent black blood spray from a wound on the dragon’s right front leg. There was a blade buried in it. Chan didn’t need a closer look to figure out whose it was. He didn’t need to ask to know what happened. 

Just then, Jisung was thrown to the ground and then it was Minho on top of him, wrapping both hands around the dragonlord’s throat. 

“Minho!” Chan called out in a panic, well aware of the fire gathering in Tyvaro’s throat. “Stop!” 

Minho didn’t listen to him, not until Chan was there and Changbin wrested him off of Jisung. Jisung seemed intent to follow after them, murderous intent in his eyes, but he stumbled on his way up and then Felix was there, holding him back. He nearly got hit in the face by a stray elbow when Jisung started to struggle in his grip. 

“Stop!” Chan yelled again, and then because he could think of nothing else. “Keligon!”

For some reason, that did the trick. At least Jisung stilled, even if only for a moment, even if he was still hissing bloody murder under his breath, but he was no longer trying to escape his brother’s embrace and Minho couldn’t escape Changbin’s, whose arms were as thick as the trunks of a tree. 

“What in the gods’ names is going on?” Chan demanded.

Before he could get an answer, a mighty roar sounded from above them and then the rising sun was blocked out by a shadow of black dread. Chan felt his heart sink. The earth quaked when Morghon landed, rattling the bones inside Chan’s body. 

Jisung screamed again, calling out to his older brother, whose figure was little more than a flash of silver hair and wild eyes sliding down the length of Morghon’s front leg before the dragon had even properly settled against the earth. 

Chan was wise enough to move out of the way when Hyunjin ran past him, not stopping until he’d reached his little brothers. Hyunjin’s hands slid over both their heads, checking them over for injuries before he zeroed in on Jisung’s bloody mouth. Despite the fact that it was making his lip bleed more, Jisung’s mouth was moving a mile a minute, Chan understanding little more of the hasty Valyrian than “sword” and “kill” and “Tyvaro.” Jisung repeated his dragon’s name over and over again until he was crying. 

At once, the concern in Hyunjin’s eyes gave way to something much more sinister. He whipped his head around and then Changbin actively had to drag Minho backwards to keep him out of Hyunjin’s murderous reach. 

“You tried to stab my brother’s dragon?” Hyunjin roared as he tried to get his hands around Minho’s throat like Minho had done to Jisung. “Like a thief in the night, you snuck close and tried to bury your blade in his side?” 

Minho had grown exceptionally pale, no longer trying to escape Changbin’s embrace. “I—” His gaze flickered over to Chan. “I—”

Hyunjin didn’t give him a chance to find the rest of his sentence. “You want to meet a dragon?” he hissed, grabbing onto the front of Minho’s coat to wrench him from Changbin’s arms. “Fine! Let’s go meet him!” 

“Hyunjin!” Felix called out, sounding as panicked as Chan felt. 

“Hyunjin!” Chan tried as well, using all of his strength to hobble forward, but Hyunjin wasn’t listening. 

The conqueror dragged Minho across the field by his hair, closer and closer to Tyvaro. Minho tried to free himself from his grip, but Chan was sure not even Morghon himself could have stopped Hyunjin at that moment. There was a crazed glimmer of glee in his eyes that promised destruction, as if he couldn’t wait to see Minho burn.

He brought Minho to his knees with a single kick to his legs. 

“Hyunjin!” Changbin called out. 

Hyunjin turned his head to smile at him, all of his teeth on display. “Watch, my darling knight,” he sang, “watch what’s going to happen to your friend, to anyone who tries to hurt my family.”

Above them, Morghon roared.  

“Hyunjin!” It scraped the inside of Chan’s lungs raw to have to yell, but he did it all the same. His legs were shaking with the effort of holding himself up, but then Felix was there. Supporting him. It gave Chan the strength to do what he needed to do, because he didn’t have time to ask for permission. 

Hyunjin was looking at him and Chan couldn’t lose his attention. Not as long as there was fire gathering in Tyvaro’s throat. 

“You can’t do this, Hyunjin,” he said, as loudly and clearly as he could. 

Hyunjin outright laughed at him. “And pray tell me why not, Wolf of Winter? Your friend has committed his crime, now he will face his punishment.” 

Chan raised his hands, even if they were shaking with the strain.“I know you are upset, but you cannot kill Minho. He has to live.”

“He has to die,” Hyunjin snarled. 

Chan shook his head. “You cannot kill him, Hyunjin. He is my witness.” 

“Witness for what?” Hyunjin spat at him. 

Forgive me, Chan thought, but he did not get to ask like Felix had. He’d have to ask him later, for the rest of their lives, probably. Still, he allowed nothing but a smile on his face as he looked at Felix, who was already staring at him with wide eyes. 

Chan prayed that this would not be the last time he got to reach for Felix’s hand. “For our wedding.” 

Minho’s body made a dull sound as he hit the ground. Hyunjin didn’t spare him another glance as he bridged the distance between himself and Chan and Felix with several long strides. 

“Your wedding?” he asked, eyes filling with a different kind of excitement. “You’ve decided? Felix?” 

Felix nodded, his grip on Chan’s hand unbearably tight. “It’s true, lēkia. Chan asked me to marry him when we were in the godswood and I said yes.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin clasped his hands in front of himself before he reached for his little brother. Chan let him go. “That is wonderful, Felix. Just wonderful! Are you happy?” 

Felix nodded, burrowing into his brother’s embrace and Chan wanted to believe that the tears gathering in his eyes were not mourning his own fate. “So happy, lēkia. So happy. This is the place and he will—He is everything I hoped for.” 

Hyunjin cooed at him, stroking his hair before he reached for Jisung, who approached them with hesitant steps. His eyes were on his twin. 

“It is true?” Jisung asked. 

More tears slid down Felix’s face. 

Jisung watched him closely before he nodded. It was a conscious effort on Jisung’s side, Chan could tell, for him to let go of his rage. Looking back at Minho, the fire in Jisung’s eyes burned bright before the flames died out. Then, he joined his brothers in their embrace. 

Chan almost didn’t dare look away from them. He only did it for long enough so he could give Changbin a sign, who promptly grabbed Minho by the collar of his coat and dragged him back towards the castle. Chan hoped that Hyunjin would not remember him once he was out of sight. 

He stayed standing where he was, willing to bear the cold for as long as it was necessary. Eventually, Hyunjin released his little brothers from his arms, leading Felix over to him. The smile on his face was serene as he placed Felix’s hand in Chan’s. Despite everything, Chan didn’t hesitate to curl his fingers around Felix’s, holding onto him tightly. 

“You have made the right choice, Bang Chan.” 

Chan prayed that Hyunjin was right. 

Around them, the dragons screeched. 

Notes:

ahhh minsung…what’s a little bit of stabby stab in the way of true love, eh? :D

all kudos and comments are so, so appreciated!! <3<3<3

more writing stuff on my twt

Chapter 6: dark light on my culture

Notes:

hontes mijegon tīkuni = bird without wings/flightless bird. jisung uses this as an insult to minho in this chapter, both in the way that he looks down at minho for being unable to fly (makes you quite the loser in the eyes of a dragon rider) but also, the representative animal of house arryn (minho’s house) is a falcon, so jisung is also implying that minho is a disgrace to his family. isn't it so mean? :D don’tworrythey’regonnakisseventually 

The blade hit the war table with a clattering sound. 

Chan sat down as soon as it had left his hand, waving off Changbin’s attempt at helping him into his seat. He could handle himself just fine. His rage was going to carry him through. 

Minho, sitting opposite of him, shrunk in his seat when their eyes met. Chan couldn’t bear to look at him for longer than a second. His eyes fell to the blade between them. 

“Do you know what this is?” 

Minho’s pupils shook as he looked at the sword. His mouth opened, but no sound came over his lips. 

Chan spoke for him, “It’s called Snowfall. As you can see from the wolf-shaped handle, it’s one of the ancestral swords of House Bang.”

Minho nodded. He was biting his lip so hard that blood was dribbling from the corner of his mouth. It was nowhere near enough. 

“The last time I held it was when I left it with my father in the catacombs. It was supposed to remain there until the day Jeongin turns old enough to use it.” Chan’s heart hurt at the thought. “So imagine my surprise when I found it buried in the leg of a dragon this morning.” 

Minho took a shuddering breath. “Chan—”

“Why did you use this blade, Minho?” Chan swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. “Why did you want to make it look like it was me who tried to kill Tyvaro?” 

“That’s not— hyung.” Minho shook his head. “That’s not what I was trying to do.”

“But it was!” Chan slammed his fist on the table, could see the way it made not only Minho flinch, but also Changbin standing beside his chair. He narrowed his eyes. “Unless you planned on blaming Jeongin.”

“What?” Minho gasped. “Of course not!” 

“Then why?” Chan couldn’t understand it. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to believe that Minho could have betrayed him so. 

Minho’s hand shook as he reached for the sword. Before he could touch it, he curled his fingers into a fist and pulled his hand back. There was something regal inside him, just like there was in Chan, that did not allow him to bend as far as he should have. 

The long, auburn strands of his hair fell into his eyes when he looked down. Chan knew him too well. He saw him make the decision. 

Minho’s voice was deceptively quiet when he finally met Chan’s gaze. “You already know.”

Chan nodded. “Yes, but I’d like to hear you say it.” 

Minho only stared at him. 

Chan gritted his teeth. The hurt he felt was like acid in his throat, seeping into his blood which flowed through every part of him. 

“You tried to set me up, Minho. You didn’t just stumble upon this blade in the armory, you took it from the catacombs because you knew it would point towards House Bang as the perpetrators of whatever crime you planned to commit with it. And did.” 

“Chan—” 

Chan didn’t let him speak. “You betrayed me.” 

“You betrayed me first!” Minho jumped to his feet so abruptly it sent his chair clattering to the ground. “I saw you in the godswood! I saw you kiss the dragon prince! I knew immediately that he dug his talons so deeply into you that you were going to forget everything we promised each other!”

“What promise?” 

Minho looked like he’d been slapped, blinking rapidly. “We agreed to never bend the knee! To fight for our freedom! But you were so willing to swear fealty to the dragon king just so you could finally have his brother.” 

“I did it to save your life!”

Minho scoffed and where he’d been burning high, he suddenly turned incredibly cold. “That is not true and we both know it. We both know you would have done it anyways. You want the dragon prince. You want him so badly you’re willing to sacrifice everything to have him.”

Chan felt like he’d swallowed a ball of iron. “That’s not how it is.” 

“Yes, it is.” 

Chan shook his head. It was a moot point. They’d been having the same argument over and over again for months. 

Chan was exhausted and so he leaned back in his chair, let the ancient wood take on all of his weight and grief. “This is not going to end as badly as you think it will, Minho.” 

Minho didn’t respond. His eyes were downcast. His chest was heaving, as if he was choking on something Chan had not seen him eat.

Chan furrowed his brows. “Minho.”

Minho didn’t even blink. 

“You really have nothing to say?”

Minho did look at him then, the corners of his mouth curling upwards. “Why should I? You don’t listen to what I have to say anyways.” 

Chan frowned. “That is not true.” 

He could see it in the way Minho’s eyes stayed empty that his friend did not believe him. “You’ve undoubtedly asked me here to discuss my punishment so make your judgement. Will you banish me? Have me beheaded for trying to kill the precious beast of your brother-in-law?”

“What? Of course not.” Chan’s frown deepened. “You’re my brother, Minho, no matter what. We just need to talk about this.” 

Minho shook his head. Stepping away from the table, he bowed as was custom. He bowed as if they had not done away with customs years ago. 

Chan could do little else but watch him leave. 

Minho was almost at the door when he turned around once more. He reminded Chan a lot of the frightened boy that had arrived at Winterfell so many years ago, caught in the body of the formidable man he’d grown into. 

Chan didn’t miss the glimmer of tears in his eyes when Minho said, “You’re my brother too, Chan.” 

With that, he left. 

Chan slumped in his seat the moment the door had fallen close behind him. Burying his head in his hands, he breathed deeply, in and out, until a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. 

“Hyung.” Changbin’s voice was very soft. 

Chan looked up at him, feeling like a child himself when he asked,  “What was I supposed to do?”

Changbin licked his lips, clearly at a loss himself. They both looked towards the sword, still dripping iridescent black dragon blood onto the table. It stained the wood. 

Chan felt the anger return to him, born from a fear so visceral it still made him choke. He could still see the fire gather in Tyvaro’s throat, could hear Minho scream inside of his head even if Minho had never done so. The betrayal hurt, but Chan knew the idea of having to watch his friend, his brother, die in such a way was what was going to haunt him in his dreams. He couldn’t stomach it, not if he knew exactly how hot dragonfire burned. 

“What was he thinking?” Chan barely withstood the urge to take Snowfall and throw it. “Did he really think he could kill a dragon? With this?”

“He probably thought two dragons are still a whole lot less of a problem than three.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Desperate men take desperate measures. Say the dragonlords would lose another dragon in the ensuing war with the North, then the Vale would only have to face one.” 

Chan shook his head. “That’s madness.” He took ahold of the sword after all. “I would have preferred it if he had buried that blade in my chest instead. At least that would have been honest.” 

Changbin sighed and Chan couldn’t help but admire him. He knew Changbin was just as upset, if not more, than he was. Loyalty was the highest creed of the men from Bear Island. 

“Minho is going to see the error of his ways soon enough.”

Chan shook his head, dropping the sword to massage his own chest. “I’m not so sure.” 

“He won’t have much else of a choice,” Changbin’s voice was grim. “The deal is sealed. You’ve accepted the dragonlords’ proposal. The North bends the knee so the Vale will inevitably follow.” 

*

Chan refused to see anyone else for the rest of the day. 

Word travelled fast so there was a line of Lords already asking for an audience, clearly eager to discuss the implications of his newfound betrothal. Chan really didn’t feel like seeing any of them so he hid out in Seungmin’s quarters and let the maester shoo anyone away who dared to hound him this far. 

“Yes, it is true,” Seungmin cut off the upteenth courtier who tried to enter. “No, the King is not well enough to receive any visitors yet…Yes, you will have his ear as soon as he wakes. Prepare to celebrate a feast by the end of the week!” 

Chan was eternally grateful for his friend. 

There was one visitor he couldn’t fend off, though. 

“Hyung!” Jeongin exclaimed as he burst into the room, circled by his direwolf puppies who were clearly agitated at Jeongin’s outburst, yapping and yipping and pushing their snouts against his legs. “Is it true?” 

Chan did his best to push himself up from where he’d lain around uselessly on his cot. Usually, Seungmin or Changbin helped him, but Seungmin was still at the door and Changbin was tasked with keeping an eye on Minho, lest Minho make another attempt at a dragon’s life. 

The fact that Chan had to take such measures left a bitter taste in his mouth, but there were only so many crises he could stomach in a day. Besides, he knew the man he considered his brother. He knew Minho needed a friend, which Changbin would be to him despite his anger. 

“It is true.” 

Jeongin gasped. “You really said yes? You’re going to marry Felix?” 

Despite himself, despite everything it meant for his kingdom, Chan couldn’t help the way his heart gave a little excited squeeze. “I will.” 

At seeing the smile on his face, Jeongin smiled too. That was, until his expression fell. “But Minho-hyung said you shouldn’t accept the proposal.” Jeongin leaned closer as if to tell Chan a secret he didn’t already know. “He doesn’t like the dragon riders.” 

Chan suppressed an eternal sigh. Jeongin loved him very much, but he worshipped Minho. Chan refused to take that from him, no matter how disappointed he was. He couldn’t tell Jeongin the truth about what Minho had done on the dragon field. 

“Our betrothal is a good thing,” he said. “Felix is joining our family. This union is going to bring peace to the land.” 

Jeongin’s eyes grew round. “But…what does this mean for us?” He reached up as if to touch a crown that no longer sat on his head. 

Chan took a deep breath. He wished he would have had an answer to that. One he could have given with certainty at least. 

As always, Seungmin came to his aid. 

“There is only one king in the North, whose name is Bang,” the maester said, placing a hand on top of Jeongin’s head. “Fret not about losing your crown just yet, little prince.” 

“Ugh, you know I don’t like it when you call me that!” 

“I know. You hate being a prince so much, don’t you?” Seungmin ruffled Jeongin’s hair. “You want to be a little wolf pup living in the woods, eh? Already brought your pack.” 

Jeongin beamed as the topic shifted towards his pets. “I taught Blueberry a trick! Do you want to see it?”

Seungmin looked down at the pitch black direwolf, who blinked right back at him, dripping drool onto Seungmin’s boots. Chan could see him swallow an eternal sigh. 

“Sure.” 

Jeongin beamed with happiness. 

Chan watched them with fondness. 

Watching Jeongin play with his pets helped him remind himself that whatever he had done was worth this moment, was worth the knowledge that his little brother was going to spend his youth without having to worry about much else but how to train his little pack of wolves. 

He would not know fear, nor the horrors of war. 

Chan had made sure of that and that reassured him that he had not acted out of folly. Any other consequence, he could bear. 

*

That night, Seungmin allowed him to return to his rooms. He still wasn’t allowed to lie on his back, but the mattress stuffed with duck feathers and covered by countless layers of furs was still a lot more comfortable than the hard wood of the cot. 

He sat patiently as Seungmin applied more ointment for him before the maester placed the vial on the bedside table. 

“Call for me if you need me to put on more.”

Chan hummed, turning around so he could look at him. “Thank you, Minnie.” 

Seungmin scoffed, weakly hitting his arm before he went to leave. Chan called him back just before he could reach the door. 

“And Seungmin?”

Seungmin shot him a questioning glance.

“Do I want to know where you got so much dragon blood from?” 

Seungmin paled around the nose. He opened his mouth, sucking in a breath before he closed it again. 

Chan raised his hand. “Don’t tell me. I don’t think I want to know.” 

“I didn’t take it by force. It was given to me.” 

Chan eyed him suspiciously. Seungmin jutted out his chin and with a wave, Chan let him go. He’d let his maester keep his secrets for now, knowing that if Seungmin had been lying, he would have been the one in need of the ointment. But Seungmin was alive and well, so he was not going around stabbing dragons to get what he wanted. 

Only one of Chan’s friends did that. 

Chan shook the thought from his head before it could fill him with sadness. Instead, he focussed on the pleasure of sinking into his own bed again, the scarred skin on his back stretching taut but not giving him any pain. Chan had really come to appreciate these moments where he’d feel a blissful amount of nothing. 

Because the gods loved him, real bliss found him at last. 

Felix came to him in the night. 

Chan was dozing by then, but a knock on the door was enough to wake him. When the knock repeated, he made the effort of getting out of bed. He reached the door just as the knuckles rasped against the wood a third time. 

Huffing, Chan opened the door. “What matter is so important that it can’t wait until the morn—oh.” 

Felix looked at him with wide eyes, clearly uncomfortable where he was caught between the two guards that Seungmin insisted were stationed at Chan’s door during his recovery. They lowered their swords, crossed in front of Felix’s neck, with a wave of Chan’s hand. 

“Your Grace, we caught the dragon prince sneaking into this corridor! What are we supposed to do with him?” 

“Go take a walk,” Chan ordered them.

“But Your Grace—”

Chan kept his eyes on Felix as he said, “Take a walk, Gunil. It’s fine. Our guest means no harm.” 

Gunil hesitated for only a moment longer before he bent to his King’s will, the two guards bowing shortly before they left.

It only took as long as they needed to round the corner before Chan did find himself attacked. He wrapped his arms around Felix in return, holding him close and breathing him in. 

“Chan,” Felix breathed into his ear, repeated it over and over as if he couldn’t quite believe it. Chan, he kept saying. No title and no formality because it was no longer needed. 

“Felix,” Chan murmured right back. “I was dreaming of you.” 

The arms Felix had thrown around his neck tightened. “You were?” 

Chan nodded, pulling away only so far that Felix could see the smile on his face. “I dream of you all the time.” 

Felix’s expression melted into something very delicate. “I hope they’re good dreams.” 

“Most of them.” 

Chan took Felix’s hand, guiding him into his bedroom so he could shut the door behind them. He didn’t hesitate to bring Felix to his bed. It wasn’t the first time Felix was here, after all, and it was by far the most comfortable place to sit. Together, they sat down at the edge of the mattress. 

“I’m sorry about what happened on the dragon field.” Chan raised Felix’s hand to his mouth, kissing his knuckles. “Forgive me. I didn’t ask you for permission.” 

Felix intertwined their fingers, squeezing Chan’s hand so tightly it felt like he was the one afraid of Chan pulling away, and not the other way around. “I’m the one who has to say sorry. Hyunjin is not—he doesn’t take kindly to one of us getting hurt.”

Chan nodded. He’d known as much even before he’d ever seen it. He’d seen Dorne, if only in his dreams.

“I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. I know it’s not—I know you did it to save your friend.” Felix’s voice was full of loathing as he said the last word, but Chan heard the sadness underneath, the longing. 

“I do not regret what I have done, Felix.” 

How could he have, when he was looking at Felix right now, looking ethereal in the light of the fireplace?

Felix’s head snapped up at the admission. He searched Chan’s eyes for the truth, the hood of his cloak falling to his shoulders when he took a shaky breath. “But you’re bending the knee. You-You have to swear fealty to my brother at our wedding.” 

“I think it’s time for all of us to admit that this was an inevitability anyways.” 

Felix’s eyes grew as round as goose eggs. “So you’re…you’re not going to go try and find another way?” 

Chan furrowed his brows. “No, Felix, of course not. I’m a man of my word. No matter the circumstances, I said I am going to marry you so I will.” 

Felix exhaled shakily. “Really?”

Chan nodded. “I wouldn’t lie about this. It would dishonour me and everything my blood stands for. A Bang never goes back on their word.” 

Felix’s purple eyes filled with tears, his lips trembling as he pressed them together in a pout. 

“Felix,” Chan suppressed a laugh as he framed Felix’s face with his hand, “my beautiful Felix. Are you not happy to marry me?” 

“I am,” Felix whined. “I am, I’m just…” Words failed him. 

Chan couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little overwhelmed himself. For better or for worse, he had made a decision and the world was going to change because of it. 

He didn’t know in what way yet, but their union was going to be written about in the history books. Yet, holding onto Felix like he was, it didn’t feel like there existed anyone in the world but them. 

Chan brought their foreheads together. “It’s a lot, is it not?” 

Felix nodded and then he was kissing Chan. His lips were wet, tasting of salt and spit. Chan didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, cradling Felix’s jaw to keep him steady. 

“Thank you,” Felix whispered, arms sliding around Chan’s neck once more. “Thank you, thank you.” 

“What are you thanking me for, little dragon?”

Felix shook his head. “You don’t know yet but soon you will and then—” A small, happy smile took over his features unlike anything Chan had ever seen before. Felix looked so light like this, as if all the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. “There is nothing left to fear.”

“Yes,” Chan said. Even if he didn’t know what Felix was talking about, he knew that it was the truth. He would make sure it was. 

Felix slid his hands from his nape over his neck up into his curls. Chan let him touch all he wanted, understanding very well the urge to touch and get to know the man he was going to marry. 

He smiled when Felix leaned forward to kiss him again. Chaste at first, almost shy, before he realised Chan wasn’t going to pull away and then he kissed him more insistently. It ignited something inside Chan that made his blood simmer, that poured molten gold into his bones which warmed him from the inside. 

The urge to touch Felix was overwhelming and so Chan did, settling one hand on Felix’s waist while he used the other to run his fingers over the intricate pattern of braids keeping Felix’s silver hair together. Felix shuddered at every caress, whining into Chan’s mouth. Digging his fingers into the silver strands, Chan used his grip to pull Felix flush against him. 

Felix whined against his mouth, hands sliding over the bare plains of Chan’s chest. He was very careful not to touch anywhere near the borders of Chan’s burnt skin and that made Chan burn for him. 

He was about to pull Felix onto his lap, the strain on his back be damned, when there was a dull thump resonating from somewhere deep within the castle, making both of them look towards the door. Chan wasn’t worried because he knew it was just the usual sounds that echoed through the castle at night, but he could tell the noise had spooked Felix. 

The scared expression on his face would have been almost comical, watching a man who’d helped conquer the entire continent be scared of a bag of grain falling somewhere, but Chan knew better than to make fun of him for it. 

Felix’s nails were a little too close to his throat for him to try. 

He grasped onto Felix’s jaw to turn his head back to face him, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth before he asked,  “Do you want to stay the night?” 

Felix’s eyes grew comically large, nails digging into the flesh of Chan’s stomach. “Tonight? You want to—” 

Chan spluttered when he caught Felix’s meaning, “Not—not for that! Not until we’re married! I just want to sleep with you. I mean sleep in the same bed. You don’t have to go back out there tonight, is what I mean.”

Felix’s eyes just kept growing bigger. “You keep chaste until marriage? Is that a Northern custom?” 

Chan felt his ears burn hot. “Not…necessarily…” 

He watched the way Felix’s eyebrows knitted together. 

Chan smoothed the furrow out with his thumb. “Does that upset you? That I’ve lain with others before you?” 

Felix mulled this over for a second before he shook his head. “No.” His beautiful, beautiful fiancé smiled at him. “But if all the other people you’ve lied with get eaten by a dragon that’s not my fault.” 

Chan couldn’t help it. He laughed and kissed Felix again, falling into the trap of his sweet mouth. Kissing Felix was addictive, like tasting sweet tangerines after a harsh winter. 

Felix seemed to feel similarly about him because he didn’t hesitate to kiss Chan back, to slide his hands down his torso towards dangerous territory. 

Chan choked on his own spit, catching Felix’s hands before they could turn into a serious problem. “Felix!” 

“What?” Felix looked genuinely confused by his actions before his expressions crumbled. He pulled his hands from Chan’s grasp as if burnt. “You don’t want me to touch you?” 

Chan groaned because stronger men than him would have folded at being looked at with so much disappointment by Felix. 

“That’s not it. That’s not it at all.” He didn’t hesitate to take Felix’s hand once more and guide it to where he was straining against his loose linen trousers. Felix’s eyes widened when he felt Chan’s arousal for himself. “I desire you very much, but this is not the time.” 

“But why? You want me, but you won’t have me?” Felix frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. You must have heard—you must not want me.”

Chan swallowed the groan building up in his throat. Gods help him keep his wits about himself. 

“Sweetheart,” he said, taking Felix’s hand off his cock because it was impossible to think otherwise. He placed Felix’s hand in the other’s lap before putting his own hands on Felix’s cheeks, stroking the soft, ruddy skin. “My precious, precious little dragon, I have a lot of royal meetings to attend tomorrow.”

“And?” Felix nodded towards the window. “It’s night time right now.” 

Chan took a deep breath, leaning forward. Felix tasted so sweet it lingered on Chan’s tongue. He still smelt like the sun. 

“Do you think,” Chan said, enjoying the way Felix shuddered when he spoke right into his ear, “once will be enough? Do you think I’ll be able to let go once I’ve had you? I need more time, Felix. I need more time than we’ll have in the upcoming days.” 

Felix swallowed, blinking rapidly. “Oh.” 

“The night of our wedding will be solely ours, and as many days as we desire afterwards, I promise you, but we have to be patient until then. I promise you won’t be disappointed then.” 

Felix looked at him with so much emotion in his eyes it made Chan want to go on his knees in front of him. He dug his hands into Chan’s thighs, as if to keep him from getting up and leaving. 

“I hope you won’t be disappointed either.” 

Chan almost had to laugh. “How could I? I’m marrying the most beautiful man in the world.” 

Felix shoved against his chest, but Chan could see the happy glimmer in his eyes. He could also see a lingering sense of insecurity, the reason for which he struggled to understand, but he decided to not press the matter anymore. 

He’d simply show Felix when it was time just how beautiful he really found him, and how beautiful they could be together. 

“A fortnight,” he promised Felix. “We’ll celebrate our betrothal by the end of the week and then we’ll be wedded the week after. That’s not too long is it?”

Felix shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him. “It’s funny. We’ve been here for months and yet it feels like this time ahead of me is going to stretch longer than any other.” 

“I’ll be counting the days too.”

Felix’s expression softened. “You know, My Grace, you speak very well for a man of arms.” 

“I’m only telling you the truth, whether you find it to be corny like a cobb or not.” He took ahold of Felix’s hands to press a kiss to his knuckles. “I promise I’ll always tell you the truth.” 

“I will do the same. Give me the fortnight and then—as soon as we’re married, I can tell you everything.” 

Felix looked relieved at the prospect. He also looked utterly terrified. 

Chan hummed, stroking his thumb over the back of Felix’s hand. “I know it’s big, this secret you’re keeping, but know that I will not hold it against you.” 

Against what he’d hoped to achieve, Felix suddenly pulled away from him. 

“How can you know that you won’t? You might think differently of me afterwards. You may think I ensnared you like the Vale prince says, that I’ve poisoned your blood with dragon spit to make you fall for me.” The way Felix said it, angry and almost all at once, told Chan that he has been thinking about it a lot. Agonised over it a lot. 

“No,” he said simply. “I’m not going to change my mind.” 

“How can you know?” It came out petulant like a child, because Felix was afraid like one. 

Chan couldn’t help but smile. “Because I know you. I know this.” He briefly touched Felix’s chest, right where his heart was thundering in his chest so hard that Chan could feel it. “And I know you won’t betray me. This,” he tapped Felix’s chest again, “won’t let you. Not because you love me,” he quickly amended,”I would never dare make such an assumption! But because of the kind of person you are.” Chan remembered orange flames and Felix’s face, horrified. “I know you tried to cover me before I ever tried to cover you.” 

The sound that came out of Felix’s mouth sounded a lot like a wail. 

Chan didn’t let him hide himself. Instead, he pulled him against his chest, holding him tight as Felix shook apart in his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered against Chan’s cheek. 

Chan simply held him, as tightly as the straining skin on his back allowed. It took a while for Felix to calm down, but Chan got him there with soft, unassuming kisses all over the side of his face, so many that he thought he must have kissed every freckle at least once. 

It was easy to get Felix to lie down once he’d calmed enough, his eyelids looking as heavy as Chan’s felt. 

“Let’s just lie down,” he whispered, not forcing Felix to shed any of his clothes, not even his boots. “We can just lie down for the night.” 

Felix nodded, turning onto his side so he could watch Chan lie down on his stomach. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch the marred skin on Chan’s back. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked in a very small voice. 

Chan shook his head, smiling into the furs. “How could it, with you right next to me?”

Felix closed his eyes at that. “Do you hate her?” 

“Who? Solar?”

Keeping his eyes closed, Felix nodded. 

“No.” 

Only then did Felix open his eyes. “No?”

“No.” Chan smiled. “She is a part of you. I could never hate anything that makes up a part of who you are.” 

Felix looked at him, really truly looked at him before he closed his eyes again. It was not to hide this time. It was because he trusted Chan. Chan could tell by the way Felix scooted imperceptibly closer. 

It made him smile. It made him want to reach out and so he did, taking ahold of Felix’s hand before he closed his own eyes.

It was easy to fall asleep to the sound of Felix’s breathing, to the crackling of the fireplace and the steady beating of his own heart.

*

To celebrate the betrothal of the King, invitations were sent out to all the Lords and Ladies in the North. 

By the end of the week, Winterfell was brimming with Northern nobility, along with an envoy from every kingdom across the land. Chan didn’t think he’d ever seen this many people filling the castle in his lifetime. 

It was only the Vale who hadn’t sent anyone. Chan had expected as much. With Minho at Winterfell already, there was no reason for Minho’s mother or his uncle to make the journey and Minho didn’t have any other family. If one was being realistic, it was only him. 

Chan banned such thoughts from his head as he took a seat on the dais that overlooked the courtyard. It was illuminated by what must have been at least a hundred torches. Chan didn’t think the castle had ever been so bright at night. 

It was a beautiful sight, almost as radiant as the man next to him. 

Chan had seen very little of Felix these past few days. All the dragonlords had taken flight the day after Chan had agreed to the engagement. Where they’d gone, Chan didn’t know, but even when they’d returned, none of them had entered the castle. 

Aware of the fact that he didn’t know much about Valyrian marriage customs, Chan hadn’t pressed the matter and sent for Felix. He’d wanted to, had hoped Felix would visit him again in the night, but in the end, he’d resigned himself to waiting. 

Looking at Felix now, who was dancing with his twin and looking absolutely ethereal in the light of torches, made Chan’s heart seize with excitement. He didn’t expect Felix to notice him looking since there were so many people between them, and yet Felix seemed to feel Chan’s eyes on him because he looked up at that very moment, smiling at him from the embrace of his brother’s arms. 

Chan didn’t begrudge him that he’d fled from the dais at the first opportunity, namely Jisung coming to ask him to dance. He knew where his discomfort came from.

It was a lot of stiff pleasantries and unkind appraisal, receiving congratulations from all the Lords and Ladies who were so visibly eager to discern whether Chan had bent the knee begrudgingly like all others or truly fallen into madness. 

Chan could understand why Hyunjin had rejected being given a seat on the dais. 

“I’ll remind them of my presence well enough by walking through the crowd,” he’d said. 

Chan had nodded and, once Hyunjin was out of earshot, told Changbin to stay by his side. He’d rather not have anyone bother Hyunjin, or worse, have anyone get caught on Hyunjin’s bad side in turn. Morghon was still too big to fit into the courtyard, but Chan had no doubt that Solar and Tyvaro, perched on opposing sides of the castle, were just as eager to scorch people at Hyunjin’s behest as his own dragon was.

Their looming presence also served as a reminder to all the envoys who’d come from the other kingdoms of just who it was that they’d bent the knee to. Yet, it still seemed that some were quick to forget. 

“Congratulations on your betrothal, King Chan.”  

Chan blinked to focus back on the man in front of him. Unlike the nobles who’d come before him, the King of the Westerlands did not bow to him. He didn’t have to. 

Chan inclined his head in the approximation of a nod. “Thank you.” 

The wine in the King’s cup nearly sloshed over the rim when he took a hefty sip. “A magnificent celebration that the North has organised, really, especially the…decor.” 

As if he’d heard the King’s words, Tyvaro’s head snapped in their direction, acidic yellow spit dripping from his teeth onto the stone below him. The courtiers had learned the hard way to steer clear of any falling drops. 

“Today is a joyous occasion,” Chan said. “Every well-meaning creature is invited.” 

Clearly not having caught onto Chan’s insult, the King’s bleary eyes slid over to Felix, still dancing in the middle of the crowd. It made Chan want to push him off the dais for looking at his fiancé like that. 

“Indeed, it is a lot of power perched on your walls. One has to wonder which way the maw opens. Is it a dragon caught in the maw of a wolf? Or a wolf caught in the maw of a dragon?” The King smiled a nasty smile. “I guess only time will tell.” 

Chan forced himself to remain calm because the King of the Westerlands, too, was a guest and guest right was holy. “I’d more so call it the joining of two great houses.” 

The King grinned at him. “Oh, you speak well, Bang Chan. But you did luck out, eh? More than the rest of us at least. Tell me, just between us—” Chan did not like the way the King took a step closer to the dais—“did you fuck him already? I must admit, I talked about it a lot with my men when his mad brother put his boot on my neck. For some reason, that silver-haired cunt didn’t make me the same offer that he made you.” The King looked at Chan as if Chan was personally hiding the reason why beneath the fur draped over his shoulders. “I can’t help but wonder why.” 

“I heard rumours of your cock being so misshapen and puny that I told my brother I’d rather have my own dragon eat me alive than having the displeasure of seeing it for myself.” 

“What?!” The King of the Westerlands spluttered as Felix reclaimed his seat next to Chan. “It’s—my cock is not misshapen—”  

Felix raised an eyebrow at him before he cooed at the King and said, “But puny, yes?” 

For a moment, Chan wondered whether the King was going to burst with how much he puffed up with indignance. “Why, you little—”

Perched on the Eastern wall of the courtyard, Solar let out a terrible screech, which was enough to cut off any other words that the King of the Westerlands might have uttered. 

It also ended every other conversation in the courtyard until Jeongin’s laughter echoed through the air. Quite a crowd had gathered around him where he was standing in a far corner, everyone gathered around to admire his direwolves. Apparently he’d successfully made one of the Berries—Chan always forgot which direwolf pup was Blueberry, which one was Raspberry and which one was Strawberry—perform one of his little tricks. 

With the terse silence broken, the crowd fell back into conversation, the string orchestra resumed the song they were playing and Chan watched with satisfaction as the King of the Westerlands stumbled off the dais. 

“Mouth-breathing bastard,” Felix mumbled after him. 

Chan couldn’t help but laugh, reaching over the armrest of his chair to take Felix’s hand. “Do not pay him any mind. That’s what I do. Rather tell me, did you tire of dancing already?” 

Felix shrugged, looking mollified with Chan’s full attention on him. “Jisung got tired of the crowd so I let him go.” 

Chan frowned, looking out into the crowd to spot Jisung, but he couldn’t find him. The only sign that he was still around was Tyvaro’s continued presence on the Eastern wall of the courtyard. 

“Has he gone out to the dragon field?”

Felix shook his head. “He’ll stick around until the feast is over.” 

Chan could tell by the look in Felix’s eyes and by everything he knew about Jisung himself, that it was a burden on Jisung to do so. “He cares for you a lot.” 

Felix smiled. “Almost as much as I care for him.” 

It made Chan wonder what Jisung’s plans were for after the wedding. He knew Hyunjin was likely going to return to King’s Landing for some time, but they had never talked about what Jisung wanted to do. In any case, Chan decided, he was welcome to stay. He never would have insisted he did, but he also never would have insisted that the twins separate. 

Maybe, Chan thought with a smile, maybe he’d get to show Jisung that kings and dragon riders could live in peace just fine. 

*

The dragon prince was going to kill him. 

Minho knew he was. 

Ever since he’d set foot in the courtyard, purple eyes had followed him everywhere. At this point, Minho was tempted to ask whether Jisung planned on holding his cock for him while he pissed. 

Then again, Jisung was likely going to be too busy ramming his sword into Minho’s back to do that. 

Minho thought that he might get a reprieve when Jisung left to dance with his brother, but it seemed that his luck wasn’t meant to last. He’d just settled with his back against the Southern wall, enjoying being away from the crowd for a moment, when Jisung came to stand next to him. 

Way past the point of pleasantries, Minho turned his head to snap at him, “Do you seriously have nothing better to do than follow me around all evening?” 

The dragon prince grinned at him in return, baring his teeth so could pull a chunk of meat off the beef skewer in his hand. Judging by the way Jisung was looking at him as he chewed, Minho had to wonder whether he was next on the menu. 

Speak your mind, his uncle always used to tell him. You’re a future king, the people will have to listen to you. 

“Your loud-mouthed chewing is making me uncomfortable.”

Jisung continued to stare at him, clearly unperturbed by Minho’s discomfort. On the contrary, he was visibly enjoying this. 

Minho huffed. If he couldn’t shake Jisung with his words, he’d have to just ignore him. Unfortunately, challenging him to a duel—a duel he’d undoubtedly win considering how good of a swordsman he was and how Jisung was nothing much at all without his dragon—was not an option, but Minho knew that Chan was never going to forgive him if he killed his fiancé’s brother at the feast celebrating the betrothal. He pressed a hand against his chest, focussing on the feeling of brocade under his fingertips, of crinkling parchment beneath that. 

He’d tried to approach Chan earlier, but unfortunately the line of waiting Lords and Ladies wanting to greet their King was long and what Minho had to say should not be discussed out in the open anyways. He needed a moment alone with Chan, but Felix looked to be as sticky as his twin brother and it really didn’t look like the silver-haired snake planned to leave Chan’s side any time soon. 

“Does it break your heart?”

Minho startled at the sudden voice. He really hadn’t expected Jisung to speak after all. He glared at the dragonlord, now finished with his skewer. “What?” 

Jisung licked the spice from his fingers, but his eyes held Minho’s gaze. Minho felt the distinct need to punch him in the mouth so he may finally stop grinning. 

“Does it hurt you to see them be happy together,” Jisung asked in his accentuated voice, “my brother and Chan?”

Minho couldn’t help himself. He laughed right in Jisung’s face. “You think that’s what this is about?” 

“Men are men,” Jisung said, shrugging as if that was much of an explanation. “Especially men who want to be king.” 

“No,” Minho told him and he liked the way Jisung did look a little nervous when Minho took a step forward, forcing him back against the wall. He really was nothing without his dragon, just like Minho had expected. “I’m not in love with Chan, you insolent fuck. I consider him my brother. ”

Jisung jutted out his chin. “Could have fooled me.”

Minho nearly spit at him with derision. “If my heart was ever broken, it is only broken insofar that I have to watch my brother fall victim to your brother’s venom. He’s poisoned his mind and now Chan is going to lose his kingdom because of it.” 

Jisung snorted. “The wolf king has accepted the inevitable, hontes mijegon tīkuni . You should do the same before it’s too late.” 

Minho could see it in front of his inner eye, how easy it would be to just grab onto Jisung’s head and bash it into the stone wall behind him. He did not. His fingers twitched, but he did not. 

Instead, he took a deep breath. “If there is going to be a war, then it’s your fault.” 

Jisung frowned at him. Minho did not care what else he had to say. He turned around and left. 

A great king also knows when to walk away, Chan’s father had once told him. Not for the first time, Minho wished that the man was still alive. He’d received so much guidance from him. Now, he was left alone with all of his decisions. 

But really, he didn’t have much of a choice at all.

Instinctively, Minho looked towards the dais where Chan still sat, one arm reached over the armrest of his chair to hold onto Felix’s hand. The dragonlord was so good at looking at Chan with moon eyes that it made Minho feel sick. He promptly redirected his gaze. 

Jeongin was easy to spot. He was still entertaining a sizable crowd with his direwolves. The sight was almost enough to make Minho smile. 

Changbin was harder to find, but eventually Minho did. He was dancing with Hyunjin. The sight made bile rise in Minho’s throat and so he turned away from it all. 

As he left the courtyard, his hand wandered once more to his chest, pressing against the fabric of his coat, feeling for the tightly wound scroll he’d been keeping in there for days now. There was no getting around it. 

He’d come to Winterfell to learn how to be a king, and now it was time that he made a king’s decision. 

Dropping the scroll behind himself, he kept walking. He had no doubt that his shadow was going to pick it up. 

*

The feast was going to last well into the hours of the morning, but Chan was not. 

It was barely midnight by the time he rose from his chair, feeling exhaustion creeping in. He was not there yet and his body was fine because he hadn’t left his chair all evening, but his mind was tired. 

Still, he did not say no when Felix rose with him and asked him to accompany him. Chan only realised halfway through the castle that Felix was not leading him towards the rooms the dragonlords had been given, but it wasn’t hard to figure out where Felix wanted to go. 

He breathed against the cold, unbroken winds that greeted him as they set foot outside of the castle. The loose fur draped over his shoulders did little to protect Chan from the cold, but he would endure for as long as Felix needed him to. And he could see why Felix led him out here. 

The stars were swallowed from sight when a massive shadow passed over them and then Solar was landing, right in the middle of the dragon field. Right in front of them. Even in the night, her scales seemed to glitter, reflecting the lights of the castle. 

Seeing her, a wise man would have stopped in his step. Seeing her, a wise man would have run the other way. Chan merely looked at Felix, who was already watching him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“I was wondering whether you’d like to meet her.” 

Chan looked between Felix and his dragon. 

“I’d understand it if you don’t! I know she hurt you very much. I just thought that if you get to know her, if you know her, then you will—”

“I know,” Chan interrupted his beautiful, lovely betrothed before Felix could talk himself into a panic, “that she was only ever trying to protect you. You do not have to make excuses on her behalf, Felix. She’s a dragon. The dog is not at fault if a man tries to take its bone.” 

When it looked like Felix was going to cry, or worse, bite his own lip bloody, Chan offered him his hand. “Come on. Take me to her.” 

Just like his dragon, Felix resembled the sun as he lit up with joy. He took Chan’s hand and led him over. Despite the absolute faith Felix had in his dragon, Chan was quite glad that Felix kept his body between Chan and the dragon at all times. Just in case she disapproved of him, he would have preferred it not to get roasted a second time. 

She hissed and snarled at their approaching forms, but did no more. 

“Demas, Solar.” Felix said, touching her leg and it folded under his hand, the earth vibrating with the impact of her lowering herself flat to the ground. It brought her head—and her very large teeth—a whole lot closer to them. 

Felix seemed to have no qualms as he moved to hug her leg, burying his face in the soft, leathery skin where her neck met her shoulder before he moved on to scratch her snout. He had to lift himself onto his tip-toes to do it, but eventually he managed to pat her between her nostrils. 

Solar huffed, eyes slipping closed at Felix’s ministrations. Her head hit the ground with a dull thud and Felix took that as his invitation to fold himself over her maw, right up against those giant, dripping teeth. Solar huffed air out of her nostrils and Felix giggled when it tousled his hair. 

Chan watched in fascination. 

He had no doubt then, that there must have been something magical in Felix’s blood. 

He had no doubt then, that the outcome of Hyunjin’s conquest always would have been what it was. In a war of kings, the side with the dragons was always going to win. 

Chan almost didn’t notice it when Felix returned to his side, taking his hand once more. He couldn’t help the way his heart thundered in his chest when he was led up right to Solar’s head. Felix placed his hand on the side of her jaw. Chan saw himself losing his arm, but Solar did little more than huff again, blinking one giant, slitted eye at him before she closed it again. 

A sign of trust. 

Chan felt his knees go weak. 

“Hello, Solar,” he whispered, tentatively stroking her jaw. He couldn’t help but smile, overwhelmed, when he felt the muscle twitch beneath his hand. “We have met before, have we not?”

“Do you see?” Felix asked where he’d plastered himself against Chan’s side, eager and anxious. “She’s not going to hurt you this time.” 

Chan smiled, scratching his thumb over one of her scales. It felt like the hardened shell of a winter bug. It felt as impenetrable as armour, because it was. “I know.” 

Solar snuffled, parts of her hot breath fanning over Chan’s upper body. It wasn’t scary. It felt nice against his bare skin, slowly turning red in the cold. 

Tentatively, Chan moved his hand from her jaw down her to her neck, patting it. “She’s really beautiful.” 

“You think so?” 

Chan nodded, closing his eyes as he took a step back. For just a moment, he saw himself, much smaller than he was and a little distorted, but the little one was holding onto him like he only ever held on to the other hatchlings so Chan did not deserve to be eaten. If the little one considered him a friend, than she would too. The vision ended as soon as it had begun and Chan truly felt his knees buckle then. 

“Chan!” 

Chan caught himself, even if he needed to grab onto Felix’s arm for support. “I’m fine!” 

“Chan, what’s wrong?” 

Feeling a distinct sense of vertigo, Chan forced himself to smile at Felix. “Nothing’s wrong, sunshine, I promise. It’s just been a long day.” 

Felix frowned, looking back towards the lights and people. “Let’s go back to the castle. Seungmin will know what to do.” 

Chan didn’t want to leave the dragon field, not yet, but he saw the reason in Felix’s words and so he let Felix help him back to the castle. Solar trilled at them in goodbye.

Chan’s legs were still shaky by the time they reached the courtyard, but he no longer felt like his soul was going to get punched out of his body. 

“Hyung!” 

As expected, there was no rest waiting for him. The moment he set foot in the courtyard, Changbin was running towards him. Vaguely, Chan noticed that the string orchestra had stopped. No one was dancing anymore, but there were so many voices in the air that it made his head hurt. 

“What is it?” 

It was the expression on Hyunjin’s face more so than Changbin’s which freaked him out. Hyunjin looked like he wanted to feed someone to his dragon again. 

“What has happened?” Chan asked Changbin again, more urgently this time. 

Changbin shoved a rolled up scroll into his hands. 

“A call for aid has reached us from Moat Cailin,” Changbin explained, and for the first time in a very, very long time, Chan heard his voice shake. “The stronghold is under siege.”

“What?” Chan struggled to pull the parchment apart. “By who?” 

Silence. He looked up. Changbin was staring at him and behind him, Chan could see the rest of the court gathering too. 

“By who, Changbin?” 

“Knights of the Vale,” Changbin whispered. “Apparently, they have been moving through the Neck. The messenger got here just after you left. It’s not just a couple hundred of them, hyung. It’s thousands trying to cross the causeway.” 

To come to Winterfell. To go to war, Changbin didn’t say. He didn’t have to. Chan shook his head, refusing to believe what he already knew to be true. Even if it couldn’t be true. 

“That can’t be.” He dropped the scroll as if it had burnt him, searching the crowd with his eyes instead. “Where is Minho?” 

“The Prince of the Vale is gone.” 

Chan jumped at the sound of Jisung’s voice. He hadn’t even noticed the other man joining them. 

“He’s run away, the coward.” Jisung’s words were dripping with derision. “The only thing he left this.” 

Chan’s hand shook as he reached for the scrap of parchment Jisung was holding out to him. No more than three words were scribbled onto it, but Chan still recognised Minho’s handwriting. 

I’m sorry, hyung. 

Chan balled the scroll in his fist, the parchment crinkling against his skin. 

At that moment, Chan wished he could have spewn fire too, just to see it burn. 

Notes:

so uh... everything is not as it seems? haha..ha..i promise this is going to work out so beautifully!! :D

all kudos and comments are very much appreciated!! <3<3<3

more writing things on my twt

Chapter 7: wrap your arms around me

“I have new correspondence from Last Hearth.” 

Chan watched as another letter hit the war table. The scroll unfolded upon impact, its wax seal broken already. Chan had long since given up on trying to count how many letters just like this one he’d seen over the past two weeks. It were so many that Changbin and Seungmin had taken to helping him read them all. 

Going to war meant that everyone had a lot to say all of a sudden. 

“House Yeo answers the call,” Changbin said. “Given that this letter was sent four days ago, their troops should arrive within the week. Once they’re here, I expect us to be able to leave for Moat Cailin the morning after.”

Chan turned his head away, looking towards the corner where Jeongin was sitting with his direwolves. Usually, Jeongin would be teaching them tricks or playing fetch with them or doing anything else to lighten up the mood during their more serious meetings, but he’d grown quiet these past two weeks. 

Chan didn’t know whether it was because of all the new people in the room or because his favourite person was no longer there. 

“How long is it going to take for us to reach the Moat?” the Lord of Barrowtown asked. 

Chan had been too afraid to ask Jeongin which one it was, too scared of what his answer was going to be. 

“Usually it takes a fortnight. Given that we’re moving one of the biggest armies on the continent, I’ll estimate us to make it in three.”

In a sense, Chan already knew. 

“Isn’t that too long? What if they’ll have overrun the Moat by then?” 

“Impossible,” the Lord of Dreadfort chimed in. “The Moat is impenetrable. It’s never been taken from the South.” 

“It is impenetrable from the South, yes,” Changbin said, “but not from the North.” He dug out another scroll from the mountain of letters on the table. “The Lady of White Harbor writes that Vale ships have crossed the waters of the Bite to dock in her ports. It’s no more than a thousand men, but just like a knife in the back, it might be enough to make the Moat fall. If they manage to invade from the North and open the gate, it’s over.” 

“But they can’t know that the Moat is vulnerable to attacks from the North.” 

“Prince Minho knows,” Seungmin said. It was the first time he was speaking during the meeting. He’d grown almost as quiet as Jeongin during the past two weeks. “He’s learned this in the same lessons that our King has so he knows.” 

Almost as quiet as Chan himself. 

“So we’re fucked,” the Lord of Dreadfort said. 

A murmur went around the table. Chan watched Jeongin bury his face in one of the Berries’ fur, his thin arms coming up to wrap themselves around the pup’s neck. The other two huddled close, doing their best to cover him.

“Nothing is set in stone yet,” Changbin said and Chan felt almost sorry for how much he, and with it the entire kingdom, was leaning on Changbin’s unshakable disposition. “Given how much closer White Harbor is to Moat Cailin, there indeed is a chance that the Knights of the Vale will be able to invade it from the North, but that chance is slim. We shall not lose hope yet and even if they manage to take over the Moat, we have three dragons on our side to take it back.”

“Do we?” 

Everyone turned to look at Chan. 

“We do,” Changbin said, effectively regaining everyone’s attention. “The dragonlords are preparing for war just as much as we are.”

Chan closed his eyes, resting his head on one palm. It was the best he could do not to bury his face in his hands instead. 

“And we believe the Conqueror? He might just put himself on the Northern throne while we travel South.”

“The dragonlords are our allies. Prince Felix is engaged to the King and—”

“—and I repeat my question, what good is a dragon cunt’s word?” 

Chan’s eyes snapped open. 

“Yah!” Changbin glared. “One of those dragon cunts is the future King Consort of the North so watch your mouth.” 

The Lord of Dreadfort didn’t look sorry for what he’d said. Chan stared at him, then at everyone else in the room. His bones felt as heavy as stone when he pushed himself to his feet. 

“We’ll leave as soon as the soldiers from Last Hearth arrive. The goal is to end this war before it can ever truly begin.” He was a king and the tone of his voice was as heavy as he felt. “Nothing else matters.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement. The Lord of Dreadfort still looked like he had something to say, but even he knew to lower his head when his King passed him by. 

Chan left like that, unwilling to spend another minute in the same, stuffy room. 

*

Felix was mad at him, or maybe he was mad at that mudworm calling himself the Prince of the Vale, but either way, his little brother was not speaking to him. 

He still let Hyunjin braid his hair for him. 

“You’re going to look so beautiful,” Hyunjin promised him, pushing the last of the golden hair pins into Felix’s hair. Felix didn’t react. Hyunjin wrapped his arms around him from behind and squeezed, knowing very well that Felix didn’t like to be left alone when he was upset. No, he wanted to be stubborn and he wanted Hyunjin to grovel until he felt like forgiving him. 

Hyunjin adored his little brother so he did just that, humming as he swayed them from side to side. He dug his chin into Felix’s shoulder to be extra annoying. It made Felix huff. Hyunjin grinned, knowing it was the first crack in Felix’s armour. 

“I promise you,” he sang, “the Wolf King won’t know what to do with himself once he sees you.”

That finally got Felix to acknowledge his existence. He wriggled around until they were facing each other on the sleeping mat they were sitting on—Jisung’s because it had the most padding and staying outside by their dragons had become a lot less fun ever since the ground had started freezing over during the night. Felix’s eyes were the most expressive part about him, large and earnest, always so much more earnest than the world deserved. 

Hyunjin felt the distinct urge to reach out and cover them with his palm. There was nothing Hyunjin wouldn’t have done, no one he wouldn’t have burned to protect him. He’d failed with Jisung—something he would never forgive himself for—but with Felix he still had a chance. He could do right by him. 

He could nod and smile when Felix asked, “You really think so?” 

Hyunjin touched the intricate knots he’d formed with the different braided strands. “How could he feel any other way? He’s already obsessed with you. I must say, I’ve been as shocked as everyone else, how he hasn’t looked at anyone else ever since the first time he saw you.” 

Felix’s eyelids fluttered shut, the tips of his ears turning pink. He was pleased by what Hyunjin had said. Hyunjin silently thanked the Northern gods that they had shaped their King in such a way that Hyunjin could say this without secretly having to plan Chan’s murder. 

It had been his plan for the King of the Riverlands, who was too unpleasant of a fellow for Hyunjin to consider letting him breathe for any longer than it would have taken him to say ‘I do’ and make Felix the sole ruler of his kingdom. 

But he’d dreamt of snow and so they’d come to the North. 

Chan was different. Throughout the months, Hyunjin had watched him closely and finally come to the conclusion that the King in the North at least deserved a chance at being a husband to his beloved brother. Besides, Hyunjin could tell Felix would’ve been very cross with him if he killed him now. 

As if he’d been able to hear Hyunjin’s thoughts, something dark and protective appeared in Felix’s eyes, like a dragon curling around its treasure. Hyunjin knew what Felix was going to say. They’d been arguing about it for days. 

“Felix—”

“I am going to follow him.” Felix jutted out his chin. “He is going to be my husband and I’m a dragon rider. I will not stay behind while my husband is going to war, especially because this war is happening because of his alliance to me. You cannot ask me to do that.” 

Hyunjin reached out with a sigh, stroking his thumb down Felix’s nose. It had always made Felix laugh when he’d been a child and still made his lips twitch now. Hyunjin didn’t know how to ask him for forgiveness. 

Morghon had not been born for him like Solar and Tyvaro had been born for his brothers, but Morghon had still found him at a young age. Hyunjin had never gotten to think of any other purpose for his life than the one Morghon had given him. 

In that sense, Hyunjin sometimes believed that he had been born for it. Why else would Morghon have chosen him, if there had been anyone else who could have done what needed to be done? There wasn’t, certainly not now. 

His dragon was the greatest gift he’d ever been given. It was also the greatest burden of Hyunjin’s life. Mostly in moments like these.

“You know why I have to.” 

“I don’t care. None of you are leaving without me. I will fight beside my brothers and I will fight beside my husband. Everyone who disagrees will be burnt to ash.” 

An eternal sigh left Hyunjin’s lips. Once more, he stroked the hair he’d just braided before he leaned forward to press their foreheads together. There was nothing else he could do but give in. 

“As you wish.” 

“This is our last battle, lēkia. The Vale is the last kingdom which thinks it can evade us. It’s over after this.” 

Hyunjin nodded, feeling the tears gathering in Felix’s eyes burn in his own. “I know.” 

“Did you dream of this?”

Hyunjin shook his head. “I did not.” 

Felix smiled, as bright as the sun, and took his hand. “I’ll dream of it for you then. Tonight.”

Hyunjin chuckled, squeezing Felix’s hand. “Not tonight.”

Felix’s cheeks coloured the loveliest shade of pink. 

Hyunjin barely withstood the urge to coo at him. “Are you excited?”

Felix shrugged, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his excitement. “I’ll have what’s mine.”

“That’s right.”

Felix giggled and so Hyunjin did too. It was bliss, really, to pretend for just a moment that there were only happy occasions to worry about and not the war looming on the horizon.

The reminder came too soon, even if Hyunjin appreciated the messenger. 

Hyunjin knew there was someone approaching them the moment Morghon shifted his massive form where he was sprawled out on the ground, enjoying the sun. 

Hyunjin jumped to his feet, his heart giving a stupid squeeze of excitement when he saw who was dumb enough to come out here and try to see him. 

“My darling knight!” he called out and waved to where Changbin was hovering at the edge of the dragon field. He knew better than to approach without permission. 

Once he had it, he came towards them with long strides. 

“King Hyunjin,” he greeted Hyunjin with a bow and Hyunjin nearly cooed at him. Changbin always insisted on being so terribly formal. “And Prince Felix,” Changbin tugged on, hastily bowing to him too. 

Felix grinned. 

“What brings you here?” Hyunjin asked, moving so Felix was half-hidden from sight, so Chang’s attention was all on him. 

“I’ve come to tell you that the forces from Last Hearth are about half a day’s march away, which means we will be leaving for Moat Cailin come morning.” 

Tomorrow, we go to war. Hyunjin nodded. “Thank you for telling me.” 

The knight inclined his head, clearly unsure how to proceed from there on out. Hyunjin pounced on him. It was unfair of him to do so, maybe, but they were going to war tomorrow.

He didn’t hesitate to grab onto Changbin’s arm, pulling him further across the dragon field. “Come with me, my darling Ser.” 

Changbin stumbled to keep up with him. “What—I mean, where are we going?” 

Hyunjin gave him his best smile, not so subtly digging his fingers into the bulging muscle of Changbin’s biceps. The thought that he could not wrap his hand fully around the other’s arm made him swoon a little bit. “To meet Morghon, of course! Don’t you want to meet my dragon?” 

“Your dragon?” Changbin squeaked. 

The unexpected reaction made Hyunjin laugh. “Yes! Or are you afraid?” 

Much like Hyunjin had hoped, Changbin huffed at the accusation, puffing out his chest. “I am not afraid of anything.” 

Good. Please, don’t be afraid of me. “Wonderful! Morghon can smell fear so it should take someone as unafraid as you to meet him eye to eye.” 

Changbin nervously glanced at the black dragon, who was slowly rising to his full height. It made him taller than the hills around them. 

“He, uh, he doesn’t seem so happy to see me.” 

“Morghon feels the shift in the air. He’s preparing for war just like we are. Don’t worry, though, nothing is going to happen to you as long as you’re with me.” 

Changbin nodded, his expression taking on a serious note as he watched Morghon shake out his wings. It created a gust of wind strong enough to tousle their hair. 

Changbin blinked, pushing his curls out of his eyes. “Well, I can’t say I’m not glad to know he’ll be fighting on my side.” 

“We fight together,” Hyunjin promised. 

He was surprised by the unforeseen tenderness in Changbin’s gaze when their eyes met. It made Hyunjin want to squeal with glee. It made him want to hide. 

“I know it’s not your first battle, but will you be all right?” 

Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh. He was the Conqueror. He’d brought the entire continent to its knees with little more than his dragon and a dream. “What do you mean?” 

Changbin seemed to realise this at the same time. He chuckled, looking embarrassed all of a sudden, “I mean…I was asking whether there is anything you need? Armour, or…or…” 

There was no king that wasn’t greedy, didn’t want to reach for what he shouldn’t have and Hyunjin, who ruled over them all, was no different. 

“You know,” he said slowly, making sure Changbin was looking at him and not his dragon. “They say the night before the war begins is coldest. I’d like a body to keep me warm.” 

Changbin spluttered, eyes growing comically large when he caught Hyunjin’s meaning. “You can’t—That’s not what I meant!” 

Hyunjin smiled at him. “But are you considering it?” 

Changbin opened his mouth before he snapped it shut. He stumbled backwards at the same time that Morghon tilted his head towards the sky to roar, but it was not the dragon he was running from. “I’ll—I’ll see you tomorrow morning!”

Hyunjin grinned, ignoring the way his heart ached at the sight of his knight running away from him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” he called after him. 

Changbin didn’t turn around. 

Jisung was there when Hyunjin returned to their camp. Him and Felix were watching Changbin run back towards the castle with the same type of amusement they might have felt at watching a chicken run with its head cut off.  

“You scared him off again?” Jisung asked. 

“What’s it to you?” 

Jisung snorted. “Nothing. It’s just embarrassing to watch. If you want him, just tell the Wolf King that you want Ser Changbin as part of the deal. King Chan is not going to say no, especially after tonight.” 

They both looked towards Felix, who nodded to corroborate Jisung’s statement. “I like Ser Changbin. He is strong.” 

Strong enough to carry Hyunjin, maybe, but not the weight of his dragon. Hyunjin walked over to one of the wooden chests he’d brought from King’s Landing and picked up the bundle he’d prepared. 

Thrusting it into Jisung’s arms, he told him, “Go, and actually do something useful instead of running your mouth.”

*

The night before they were set to leave for the Moat, a knock sounded on Chan’s door. It didn’t wake him this time. He hadn’t been asleep in the first place. He simply dragged himself out of bed to open the door, knowing full well that his guards would have created a ruckus if it was someone he didn’t wish to see. 

He was still surprised to find out who had come to see him. 

“Jisung? What are you doing here?” 

“Bang Chan.” The syllables of his name came out sibilant, like Chan imagined a dragon might have spoken. Jisung’s purple eyes were just as piercing as his brothers’, maybe even more so because of how relentlessly he stared. 

Chan didn’t hesitate to open the door for the other. “Come in.” 

Jisung did, looking around Chan’s room with unfettered curiosity. Chan lingered at his back. He didn’t miss the way Jisung quickly moved along when his eyes fell onto the bed. The dragon prince turned to face him, thrusting a tightly wound bundle into Chan’s arms.  

Chan took it, unfolding the fabric to find that he was holding thick, ivory-coloured robes. The sleeves and collar were imbued with red, as if they’d been drenched in blood but Chan knew that was not the case. The style of the garment was foreign to him, but he could tell by the heavy weight of the fabric that it must have been expensive to make and had been very well kept. 

Chan looked up from the bundle in his hands right into Jisung’s carefully crafted mask of dispassion. 

“What is this?” 

At last, a smile formed on Jisung’s lips. “These are your wedding robes. I am here to help you get dressed.” 

Chan nearly choked on his own tongue. “Wedding robes?” 

Jisung nodded. “We are going to war tomorrow. Tonight, you will marry my brother.” 

Chan made an effort to breathe evenly. He remembered very well Felix’s face when he’d told him that there would be no wedding until after they’d returned from Moat Cailin. 

Not a Northern wedding, at least. 

Chan looked down at the robes, smoothing his thumbs over the fabric. The decision he had to make was really no decision at all. He had already decided. Maybe, he had known what his fate was the first time he’d seen Felix, already. 

Smiling, he held out the garment for Jisung to take. “Help me put it on?” 

Jisung did and Chan marvelled at how gentle Jisung’s hands were in comparison to his harsh personality. He was very good at draping fabric over Chan’s back without making it hurt. Then again, Chan realised with a wince, he’d probably had plenty opportunity to practice on himself. 

Chan couldn’t help but admire himself in the mirror once he was fully clothed. Since he was a man of the North, he usually wore blacks and greys, rough fabrics and furs. Seeing the ivory and red against his skin made him look at himself with new eyes. 

“Do you like it?” Jisung asked. 

“I do. Do you think Felix will like it?” Chan wasn’t a vain man, but he did wonder whether the sight of him in these robes would please Felix. 

Jisung’s smile took on a quality that Chan could only describe as long-suffering. “I think you could show up in a potato sack and my brother would take you.” 

Chan knew that Jisung was probably trying to make fun of him, but he still felt reassured by his words. 

“Thank you,” he said earnestly and was surprised when Jisung didn’t flinch away from the hand Chan placed on his shoulder. He was quick enough to take it off, though. 

Jisung looked towards the window. “Let us leave. The sun has already set.” 

Chan hurried to follow him when Jisung turned towards the door. He was not used to people moving before he did, but in a way he liked that about Jisung. It was humbling and Chan knew that a good king had to be humble. His father had always told him so. 

Leaving the castle meant bracing the cold and a lot of questioning looks from his guards, but they stood down whenever Chan waved them away. He knew he needed no guard. 

Jisung led him out onto the dragon field and beyond the hills which did well to obscure the two of them from sight. Them and everything else to be found there. Chan’s breath caught in his throat when he saw what was waiting for him. 

He hadn’t expected this much light. 

On a rock as large and flat as his war table, a hundred candles were burning, dripping white and red wax onto the stone. They were shielded from the wind by the dragons surrounding the altar from three sides. 

Felix stood in front of the altar, wearing the same robes as him, though he was also wearing an intricate golden headpiece. Hyunjin was right next to him in grey robes of the same make, but with a lot less detail woven into the fabric. In his hands were a golden goblet and a dagger made from dragonglass. 

The smile on Felix’s face when he saw Chan erased every doubt and question, any jitter of nervousness Chan might have felt. He did not know whether it were the gods or Felix’s sheer force of will which had led him here, but he knew it was where he was supposed to be all the same. 

This was his fate. Chan was so thankful that it was. 

“Chan,” Felix called out to him once he was close enough. 

Chan didn’t hesitate to step up to the altar and take the hand Felix was holding out to him. It suddenly no longer sufficed, not being near him. 

“You look so beautiful, little dragon.” 

Felix smiled, brushing his hand down the front of Chan’s robes as if he couldn’t quite believe Chan was here. “You’ve come.”

“Of course.” He nodded towards Hyunjin and the altar. “We are getting married, are we not?” 

The sound that left Felix’s mouth sounded happy and hysterical at the same time. “Yes,” he said, nodding as if he couldn’t believe that it was happening, “we are.” 

“Felix,” Hyunjin said and then, “Chan.” 

They both looked at him and the air turned somber, heavy in a way it hadn’t been before. Chan was ready to carry that weight. Jisung had told him what was going to happen so he was prepared for Hyunjin to hand him the dagger. He weighed it in his hands, marvelling at how light it was, before he looked at Felix. Before any cut, he pressed his thumb against the plush flesh of Felix’s bottom lip. 

The oath he was swearing was to his husband and no one else, so he brought their faces so close that only Felix could hear him when he made his vow, “The bond of our souls is forged from fire and blood.” 

Felix looked at him with wide eyes, blinking rapidly. 

“I’ve come to promise you that I will do anything to honour it, Felix. I will share the burdens that bear down on you, and guard the secrets you’re willing to share. I will protect you as if you were me and your own as if they were mine.” 

Tears sprung to Felix’s eyes and Chan didn’t hesitate to wipe them away. 

“I will follow you to whatever end,” he vowed, “so the gods may bring us together again in the next life. They have to, because this one is not enough. Do you understand? Do you understand that one lifetime is not enough?”

Shakily, Felix nodded. 

Chan smiled at him. “So I am glad it’s me and you. I could want nothing more than this.” The answer to a question Felix had only asked him out loud once before, and a million times with his eyes. “You have all of me and my heart, little dragon. Take care of it well, yes?”

Felix sobbed as he nodded. He wrapped his hand around Chan’s wrist when Chan brought the tip of the dagger to the mouth he was so eager to kiss. 

“My heart is yours,” Felix said, sobbed, promised before Chan made the cut, “You burned for me, so I will burn anyone for you in return. Not because it is a debt I owe, but because we are one. One soul, welded together by fire and blood,” he echoed what Chan had said and added, “All that you give me, I will return. And any love you may have for me,” Felix’s breathing stuttered only minimally before he continued, “I already feel for you two-fold.” 

Chan blinked at the admission. He had not dared to hope for so much, but he could see in Felix’s eyes that it was true. Felix loved him. 

Chan’s heart soared higher than any dragon could have ever taken him. 

At last, he pressed the dragon glass against Felix’s bottom lip. The smallest amount of pressure was enough to have the dragon glass split the skin. Chan immediately pulled the dagger back. Reverently, he pressed his thumb into the cut on Felix’s lip. Like he’d been taught, he used the blood to put his mark on Felix’s forehead. 

He held his breath when Felix did the same to him. There was no pain, neither from the cut on his lip nor elsewhere. There was only Felix, and the thought of their souls intertwining through this ancient ritual, through the only blood magic Chan was willing, hoping to believe in. 

“Blood of two joined as one,” Hyunjin whispered, officiated. He was speaking in High Valyrian, but Jisung had translated the words for Chan while dressing him, had repeated them over and over until Chan could speak along. Chan knew what Hyunjin was saying, and if he hadn’t known, then he still would have been able to feel it. 

“Ghostly flame and song of shadows, two hearts as embers are forged in fourteen fires.”

It hurt when the knife sliced across his palm, but even that was a price he was willing to pay. He did the same to Felix and Felix did not flinch. They held each other’s gazes as they pressed their palms together, blood mixing and dripping into the goblet Hyunjin was holding below. 

“A future is promised in glass and the stars stand witness…”

Felix drank first. 

“...to the vow spoken through time…”

Chan emptied the goblet. It tasted like iron. It tasted like the future he’d been promised. He did not choke even once as he drank. 

“...of darkness and light and fire and blood…”

After that, there were no more knives and goblets. There was only Felix, the press of their palms together and Felix’s soft, soft cheek cradled in the palm of his hand as they both leaned in. 

“...and ice.” 

Kissing Felix tasted like sweet tangerines and blood, like fire pouring down his throat and snow melting on his tongue. When he pulled away, his lips were still tingling. It felt like there was frostburn on his lips. 

He opened his eyes only to smile and see that his husband was doing the same. Between them was a bond neither of them would either be able to sever, and the promise of a brighter future. Chan was so eager to see it. His blood sang with the knowledge that he’d found another. 

High, high above the sky filled with fire as the dragons roared to welcome him, who had joined their flight. 

*

Snow fell from the sky the day they left for war. 

Chan felt none of its cold as he rode with one hand holding the reins of his horse and the other, bandaged one outstretched to catch the flakes. 

“Winter is here,” Changbin said, riding beside him. 

“It is,” Chan acknowledged, turning to look at his friend and knight and general with a smile. “We will brave it like all else.” 

As if to agree with him, the air filled with the sound of screeching and even if the they couldn’t see the dragons with how high up above they were, Chan knew that they were there. 

Chan could feel their fire in his blood, warming him from the inside. 

*

Three days before they reached Moat Cailin, a messenger arrived at camp, reporting that the Moat had fallen into enemy hands. 

Hyunjin watched as the message spread around the King’s tent. Chan was silent in his chair. The Northern Lords were not. Hyunjin listened to them yell at each other, then over each other before he found that it bored him. 

Outside was better. Outside was where his dragon was. 

Because of their size and how afraid the soldiers were of them, Hyunjin and his brothers had set up camp on a hill a little ways away from the upper border of the Northern camp. Hyunjin found that he was glad for it. If the Wolf King or his Lords had something to say to him, they could come to him, as would be a proper acknowledgement of his rule over them. 

Hyunjin didn’t care to spend much more energy on listening to them. The Northern Lords could argue all they wanted. Hyunjin knew how this battle was going to end and therefore he felt no need to worry. 

“How could I be worried,” he sang as he approached Morghon, resting right outside the camp grounds since he hadn’t been able to follow Hyunjin inside, “when this is not our first dance, is it, my heart? You’re just going to eat all of the enemy soldiers, won’t you?” 

Morghon lifted his giant head and snuffed air at him as if to say, “That’s right, Little One.”

It made Hyunjin laugh. 

Morghon wasn’t as wily and reactive as Tyvaro and Solar, given that he was so much older than them and had undoubtedly grown weary of youthful shenanigans after centuries of being, but not a day passed in which he did not prove to Hyunjin that he was as devoted to Hyunjin’s happiness as Hyunjin was to him. 

Hyunjin didn’t hesitate to reach up and stroke his hands along the dragon’s neck, enjoying the feel of the rough, midnight black scales against his hands before he wandered further to press himself right up against Morghon’s chest, feeling the slow, boxing drum of his dragon’s heart. Pressing his ear to the scales, he closed his eyes and matched his breathing to the rhythm. 

No, he was not afraid. He’d felt sorrow and anger and annoyance because of his dragon, but never fear. Morghon had taken that from him. His dragon was endless power when these men were fighting over scraps of it, so how could Hyunjin have taken any of their concerns seriously? 

“What do you think?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the black scales. “Should we fly ahead and just burn the Moat to the ground, mhm?” 

Morghon gave a deep rumble. It made the ground beneath Hyunjin’s feet vibrate with its force. Hyunjin giggled. 

“I’d ask you not to do that.”

The giggle died in Hyunjin’s throat at the sound of an all too familiar voice, the adjacent body hidden by Morghon’s leg between them. It was Hyunjin who had to move, since Morghon’s goodwill not to eat the intruder depended entirely on the amount of goodwill Hyunjin was willing to show him. 

And Hyunjin would have been terribly sad if Morghon had ended up eating this particular Lord of the North. 

So, he emerged from between his dragon’s legs, finding that Changbin really was the bravest man he knew. No one had ever dared to come this close to Morghon before without Hyunjin there to promise that his dragon didn’t bite. 

And Morghon did. 

“No?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“No,” Changbin smiled at him in greeting, dutifully bowing his head. 

Did you follow me? Hyunjin wanted to ask him. Did you come out here just to see me or do you care how I felt inside that tent? “Why not?” 

“Because you flying ahead and burning the Moat to ashes wouldn’t solve anything.”

Hyunjin hummed in contemplation, reaching up both arms to scratch under Morghon’s jaw. His dragon gave a pleased snuffle, which undoubtedly sounded like a bone-chilling growl to anyone else. “It would end the war, for one, if I did that.” 

“It would not. The Moat is the gate to the North, at least for those who cannot just fly over it. Destroying it would just make it easier for the Knights of the Vale to invade.”

“There won’t be any Knights of the Vale left to do that.” Hyunjin growled like his dragon did. “Besides, the Prince of the Vale is not going to war against the North, he is going to war against me. Won’t you be happy if I spare your kingdom from having to answer the call?” 

“We are allies. We fight together.” 

“So watch as I burn our enemy to ashes.” 

Changbin frowned at his words and Hyunjin felt something ugly and venomous rear its head inside him. 

“You care about the Prince of the Vale that much?” Hyunjin had always found Felix’s resentment towards Minho amusing, but somehow he found himself no better at that moment. “Even if he has declared war on your king?” 

Changbin’s spine stiffened at the implication of Hyunjin’s words. Hyunjin knew that the accusation of disloyalty was a grave offense to him. Hyunjin wondered whether Changbin knew that Hyunjin hadn’t been talking about Chan when he’d said ‘your king.’

“Minho is my friend.” 

Hyunjin scoffed. “You consider him that still?” 

Changbin turned his head away, looked further out into the vast nature surrounding them. With winter coming, the North turned into a desolate place if one wasn’t looking at the friends behind. 

Changbin’s eyes were surprisingly warm when he looked at Hyunjin. “Could you forgive Jisung if he turned against you?” 

Hyunjin bared his teeth at him in return. “My brother would never do that.”

“Not even if they believed it to be the right thing?” 

Hyunjin’s reply got caught in his throat. He looked down at his hands. They were haunted by a tremor he’d never quite learned how to hide. He could hide everything else, but his hands always gave him away. They simply refused to stop shaking when he was angry. 

In front of his inner eye, he saw the rare times when he had caught Felix and Jisung exchange glances behind his back, only ever during his worst of times. They had been full of concern, only ever concern for him, but who knew? Maybe one day those feelings would turn into resentment, or the need to act. 

The thought almost made Hyunjin smile. He imagined it to feel very light, finally being able to be freed from his own fate. Morghon above him trilled in sorrow and Hyunjin immediately wanted to apologise for his own thoughts. 

He met Changbin’s gaze, curious yet patient. “In that case, I could only hope that they’d be doing right by themselves, and that they’d be merciful.” 

Changbin nodded. “Minho thinks he’s doing right by his people too.”

Hyunjin scoffed. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like Changbin talking about Minho so much when it was Hyunjin he was looking at, when it was Hyunjin baring his soul. 

“The Prince of the Vale will fall all the same. You know that, right? This doesn’t end with you getting your stronghold back. This ends with Prince Minho bending the knee to me, so we may all live in peace once and for all.” 

Changbin hummed, looking out into the wild once more, this kingdom he was so eager to protect. “All of us under your rule.” 

Hyunjin knew there was nothing pretty about the way he grinned. “Indeed.” 

Changbin nodded again, the smallest of smiles tugging on the corner of his mouth. “I’ve come to think that it won’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Hyunjin’s hands stopped shaking. “What?”

“What?” Changbin gave right back, raising an eyebrow at him. He was mocking Hyunjin, but it was not mean. It was teasing. As if they were friends. Hyunjin couldn’t remember whether he’d ever had one. “Do you not think you’re going to be a great king?” 

Hyunjin blinked. 

He’d dreamt of the great mountain erupting and had left his homeland because of it. 

He’d dreamt of his brother burning even before the ravens had reached him and razed an entire city because of it. 

He’d dreamt of dragons in a snow-filled sky and known that the North was the last place to conquer because of it. 

Hyunjin wondered what he would see if he ever got to dream of the man in front of him. It almost made him want to throw his arms around Morghon’s leg and beg, Show me him. Show me something, just for once, that is beautiful instead of horrific. 

Hyunjin smiled and it was terrible, because he didn’t know any other way to be. “They say I’m mad. They say my rule is a rule of terror simply because I’ve taken it by force, as if any of your kings ended up on their thrones any other way.”

He could see the way his words hit Changbin in the gut. 

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin continued on in a whisper. I do not know and I am afraid. “We’ll just have to see how much truth there is to it, won’t we?” 

Changbin studied him for a moment before he slowly lifted his hand. Hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat when gentle fingers tugged his hair behind his ear. “Do not fight by yourself. Do not leave by yourself.”

Changbin was in no position to order him, and yet Hyunjin knew, he already knew that he was going to obey. Finally, there was someone to look to that was not himself.

“Let us fight together.” 

Still, Hyunjin couldn’t let him have it that easily. “So I don’t burn your friend to a crisp?” 

Changbin did not break eye contact with him, “It’s not just Minho I’m protecting.” 

Hyunjin wondered what it would feel like to give in, even just for a second, and to hide in the arms of someone else. Changbin’s arms were so thick, Hyunjin thought that the knight might just have been able to protect him. It made him wonder whether Changbin would want that. 

He found himself wondering about a lot of things in Changbin’s presence. 

“We’ll fight together,” he agreed, promising it this time. “Side by side and then you can tell me, whether there’s greatness in me or something way, way worse.” 

Notes:

wahh, guess who got married!! i love to hear all your thoughts, no matter big or small, below!! <3

next chapter is very special i'm very excited 👀

more writing stuff on my twt

Chapter 8: might bite right through

Notes:

“Vīlībāzmot arlī, rōvalbar.” = “We’re off to battle again, big boy.”

Alexa play The Catalyst by Linkin Park

Receiving reports of a twenty thousand men army was a whole lot different than seeing said army with one’s own eyes. 

Chan came to realise this as he rode up on the hill that allowed him a clear view of Moat Cailin, the twenty-tower stronghold that stood as a gate between the North and the rest of the continent. The grey flags it was supposed to fly had been replaced by blue banners showcasing a falcon mid-flight and the army spilling out of its walls was not Chan’s own. The sight placed a vice around his heart that tightened with every new wave of soldiers he saw pass through the Moat. 

It was a seemingly endless sea of men and yet half of the Vale army was still missing. Hyunjin had reported as much after flying overhead the night before, using Morghon’s dark colouring to hide in the clouded night sky. Chan wasn’t surprised. He’d been expecting as much. 

While the Moat was massive, it all came down to the narrow path of the causeway it was built around. The slim but dry road only allowed a couple hundred soldiers to pass through every hour. It was the only way to cross the Neck too, unless one wanted to see their army disappear in the bogs all around them. Chan certainly had no interest in seeing his men get eaten by the lizardlions lurking in the muddy waters.  

No, the Moat was where this war was going to play out. A siege from the South was impossible, but Chan was coming from the North, with an army twice as large as the one he was facing. The Knights of the Vale were valiant, but they knew the hard, unforgiving terrain of the mountains. 

The Moat and its surrounding lands were different. It was a house Chan owned, and no guest right was going to protect the intruder who’d placed himself upon its seat. Even if that intruder was the man he considered his brother. 

Come out, come out, Chan thought, thinking of all the times he’d played hide and seek with Minho within the walls of Winterfell. It hurt to think about it now, but he was willing to bleed for his brother just a little longer, Before it’s too late, Minho-yah, you know you can’t win this.  

“Stone can be molten by dragonfire.” 

Chan raised an eyebrow at Changbin, who’d ridden up next to him. “I thought we agreed that we have to avoid destroying the Moat for as long as possible.” 

“I know.” Changbin smiled at him and then looked upwards, up and up until he found the dragons circling them above. “It’s just good to remember, I think. That we have that kind of power at our disposal now.” 

“Minho must know he can’t win. If he didn’t then, he must know it now. The reports must have reached him already. I don’t know why he’s doing this, Changbin, I don’t—” 

He stopped when Changbin reached over to place a hand on the pommel of his saddle. 

“Hyung,” he said, gently and nonjudgmental and Chan deflated. 

He lightly shook his head. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “The lack of sleep is getting to me, I—”

“Don’t apologise.” More quietly, Changbin added, “Don’t forget that he’s my brother too.” 

Chan nodded, feeling numb as he looked back at the Moat. “We are going to war.” 

“We are going to war,” Changbin confirmed and for the first time, he looked as somber as Chan felt. 

Above them, one of the dragons let out a deafening roar. 

*

Jisung hated men.

There was no debating it. He hated the way they breathed and lugged themselves around and sniffed the air, sniffed at him and his brothers as if to discern whether they were something to fuck or fight. In his best dreams, Jisung was killing them all. Specifically those of noble blood. 

There were way too many men of noble blood inside this war tent.  

Tyv, he thought, come down here and eat them all. 

Unfortunately, Tyvaro couldn’t read his mind. Jisung was more connected to his dragon than any other living being on the planet, safe for maybe his twin brother, but Tyvaro still couldn’t hear his thoughts. The whistling trill that sounded from outside the war tent reassured him that Tyvaro had still understood him though. 

With Hyunjin shooting him an exasperated glare, Jisung made an effort to think of nice things, like open skies and weaving flowers into his brothers’ hair and being left alone. It worked to calm himself down, and by extension his dragon. 

Being inside the war tent made it really hard to keep his calm, though. 

Apart from men, Jisung also hated confined spaces and useless chatter and men who always smelled like they were sweating through their clothes to make themselves the most important person in the room. The war tent combined all these things into one.

“I’m sorry,” Felix whispered to him in Valyrian, shuffling closer so he could take Jisung’s hand and squeeze it. 

Looking at him, all dressed up in his golden armour, was like looking at a flower in the mud. The simple touch of their hands was enough to remind Jisung how to breathe normally, how to hold onto the good thoughts and remember that he was no longer burning, being burned by men just like the ones currently in this tent with him. 

He squeezed back. 

It made Felix smile and interlock their fingers before he looked back at his husband, that soft adoration staying in his eyes. 

Chan didn’t stink. Jisung had to give him as much. The King in the North smelled nice, like dew and clean linen and winter winds. He also didn’t talk unless he had something of importance to say. Most importantly, Felix was infatuated with him, not out of obligation but his own desires. 

Because of it, Jisung was going to stay here, in this war tent to make sure that what his brother, what both of his brothers had given, would not be in vain. 

“I say we attack at dawn,” one of the stinking Lords said. “The Knights of the Vale are still struggling to make it along the causeway and the swampy terrain alone is going to claim half their soldiers before they even have a chance to pass through the Moat.”  

It was Changbin who shook his head. “Those are Knights of the Vale we’re talking about. Most of them have lived their entire lives living in the Mountains. They’re used to uneven terrain and narrow passageways. Do not underestimate them.” 

“Still—”

“Our main goal has to be Minho,” Chan said. “If we manage to lure him out, convince him to meet with me—”

“The Vale prince has made his choice,” Hyunjin spit, his voice rising above all others. Jisung enjoyed the way it made the Lords next to him scoot away in discomfort. “He will burn like all others.” 

Everyone was silent, but then, “No.” 

Hyunjin scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Chan. “No? Prince Minho is going to war against your kingdom and you’re still willing to debate with him?”  

Chan held Hyunjin’s gaze for longer than most men had been able to before. Then he averted his eyes to the war table between them. “I don’t believe that Minho is beyond saving.” 

“Chan,” Changbin said, placing a gentle hand on his King’s arm. 

Chan shook him off. “What I just said was an order. Killing Minho is not the goal here.” 

“So what is the goal?” Hyunjin asked, subtly bending and flexing his body like he often did before he struck, just like a snake. 

Chan still wasn’t afraid to look at him. “We’re taking the Moat back.” 

“And what if that means killing your friend? Will you be willing to do it then?” 

Chan stared at the war table, lips pressed into a stubborn line. 

“Chan,” Felix said. 

Chan looked at him and something in his gaze softened. His shoulders relaxed and so did Jisung’s grip on the dagger strapped to his belt. 

“Every man in that stronghold,” Chan said, looking at Hyunjin. “You can kill every man in that stronghold, but not the man I consider my brother. Not until…not until I’ve had the chance to talk to him.” 

“Fine,” Hyunjin said and, much to Jisung’ surprise, didn’t argue any further.  “I’ll drop him by your feet and then you can see how much of him there is left that you are willing to save.” 

With that said and a huff, Hyunjin turned on his heel, leaving the tent at once. Jisung didn’t hesitate to follow him.

“Lēkia,” he said as soon as they were far enough away from the war tent not to be overheard. 

Hyunjin didn’t turn around, but he slowed his step so it was easier for Jisung to keep pace with him. It wasn’t enough for Jisung. He grabbed onto Hyunjin’s arm, pulling him to a hard stop.

There was still venom dripping from Hyunjin’s teeth when he turned around. “What is it?”

Most men would have run away. Jisung tightened his grip on his brother. “Let me do it.” 

Hyunjin cocked his head to the side, eyes crinkling with amusement as if Jisung had made a joke he didn’t understand. “What are you saying now, Jisungie?” 

“The Prince of the Vale, let me get him. It’s better if you fight where our enemies can see you, and that you and Morghon stay close to where Solar and Felix are. Fight with the Northmen, lēkia. I’ll bring you the Prince and drop him off at Chan’s feet like you said.” 

Hyunjin’s smile waned, but his touch was gentle as he framed Jisung’s face with his hands. Pretty, the King of Dorne had said. Your face is too pretty to burn, dragon prince. We’ll keep a cloth over it so it won’t go to waste. 

Hyunjin had burned the King last, had molten the crown on his head right down his face. Jisung hadn’t been free until that moment, but Hyunjin had made sure he got to see it. 

The corners of their mouths lifted at the same time.

“Would you really do that? Keep Prince Minho alive for that long?” Hyunjin’s voice was like syrup in his ear, sweet and sticky. “I know you don’t like him.” 

“I’ll do whatever needs to be done.” 

We have to go North, Hyunjin had said after they’d already taken half the continent. We have to go where the snow falls upon the land and never truly melts. That is where it’ll be safe for her and Felix. 

So to the North, they’d gone, even if it had taken the fall of another three kingdoms to get there. 

Hyunjin nodded. “You will. Yes, you will do just that. My Sungie, my strong Jisung.” Jisung couldn’t truly breathe until his brother’s arms wrapped around him, holding him so tightly it was safe to let go. “Tell me, are you in pain?”  

Squished against his brother’s chest, Jisung shook his head. “’m not.” 

Hyunjin tsked. “Don’t lie to your brother.” 

“I am not in pain,” Jisung promised, still breathing easy even when they pulled apart. “The only thing that hurts me is the stench of the bogs, I promise.” 

Hyunjin wrinkled his nose, as if just now realising. “It really does stink, does it not?”

Soon it’s going to smell worse. That was the worst thing about it, really, the smell of burning flesh burned itself into your nostrils too. 

Jisung jutted out his chin, forcing his mouth into a smile. “I have a feeling we won’t have to bear it for too long.” 

Hyunjin nodded. “No. We won’t. And if all else fails, we’ll melt the Moat into a single pile of molten stone and see what human might still dare to climb over it.” 

*

The morning that they knew they were going into battle, Chan found himself standing in the middle of his tent, looking at the way the light of dawn washed the colour out of his husband’s face. 

“Are you sure?” 

Felix nodded, stepping closer to the wooden mannequin that held Chan’s armour. His hand looked very small on the expanse of the breast plate. “You are going to wear this armour because of me so let me put it on for you.” 

Chan smiled and pulled Felix away from the armour, into his arms instead. “I am going to take you home,” he promised, squeezing Felix as tightly as he dared. “After the battle, we’ll ride together or maybe you’ll let me fly on your dragon, but we are leaving together. This battle is the last time I’m willing to have you out of my arms.”

Felix’s bottom lip wobbled, his fingers digging into the front of Chan’s shirt. Seeing his eyes fill with tears made Chan think that this was maybe the one thing he’d never forgive Minho for, making his husband cry. 

“I’d like that,” Felix sniffled, “and I’m sorry.”

Chan shook his head, lifting Felix’s hands to his mouth so he could kiss his knuckles. “Don’t apologise, love. I have made my decision, and I do not regret it. Whatever happens, know that this is the truth. If I could do things over a hundred times, my choice would be a hundred times you.” 

Felix’s tears spilled over as he searched Chan’s eyes, finding the truth in them. He surged forward, pressing salt-stained kisses against Chan’s lips until the barely healed cuts on their lips reopened. Chan welcomed the sting, and the taste of iron and the reminder that they were one. 

“I love you, Bang Chan,” Felix whispered. “Wolf of Winter, King in the North, I love you. You have my heart and when this is over, I’ll show you how much.” 

Chan smiled, feeling like he had already won the war. It made it easier to make promises about the future. “We are going to have a beautiful life together, Felix, I swear it to you.”

Felix nodded, kissing him once more before he reached for the armour plates again. This time, Chan let him put them on him. Felix was good at it, but then he’d probably done this for his brothers already. Chan made an effort not to wince too much when Felix put the back plate on. 

“Can you bear it?” Felix asked him, eyes dry but wide with concern. 

Chan smiled. “Being uncomfortable is still a whole lot better than getting stabbed in the back. Don’t worry, love,” he added when Felix didn’t look convinced, “I can bear the weight just fine.” 

Felix still looked hesitant, but he didn’t argue any more. Instead, he stepped close again, pushing his way into Chan’s arms. Chan reached up to run his hands over his hair and down the length of the single plaited pony tail he’d braided his hair into. 

Felix was already wearing his armour. It was a lot thinner than Chan’s, but Chan had no doubt that the gold-coated Valyrian steel was just as strong as the thick iron Chan was wearing. Over it, Felix’s red cloak was going to make it easy to spot him, as if Solar wasn’t give-away enough. 

“This battle is the last hurdle. After that, we’ll go home.” 

“Home,” Felix echoed and the slow smile that spread over his features was worth the battle ahead. 

*

The ground was too soft. 

Jisung didn’t like it, didn’t like the way it reminded him of the sinking sands in the South. The swamplands made for a terrible battle ground. 

“There’s not much strategising to do,” Changbin said where they were gathered at the front line of the Northern army, only a couple of miles of dead land separating them from the enemy. “Neither army has any other direction to go than straight forward, unless they want to see themselves disappear in the bogs. I fear we’ll have to meet each other head on and see who reaches the other side first.” 

“I’ll burn you a path right through,” Hyunjin said. He’d been sticking suspiciously close to Changbin ever since they’d all put on their armour. 

It made Jisung watch his brother more closely than he usually would have. Of course, he was not blind so he’d noticed that Hyunjin held a certain interest in the Northern knight. He just didn’t think there could ever be a man brave, or stupid, enough to actually smile back at his brother. 

And yet, Changbin did. “Thank you, Hyunjin, but there’s about twenty thousand men to get through between us and the Moat. I think a couple more considerations have to be made.”

“The goal is still to get Minho to talk to me first,” Chan said. “Even if it’s in the middle of the battle, it’s never too late to stop.” 

“I say the dragonlords attack the flanks,” one of the lesser stinking Lords said. He was the one who’d joined them last, if Jisung recalled correctly, Lord Yeo. “Herd the Knights of the Vale together like scared sheep. They’ll either retreat into the Moat where they’ll be trapped or flee right back home. Either outcome is favourable. Once we’ve taken back the Moat, we can focus on capturing Prince Minho for a…talk.”

“The Prince is mine,” Jisung said. It was uncomfortable, having everyone turn to look at him, but he bore it, directing his gaze at Chan. “You focus on taking back your stronghold, I’ll bring you the Prince.”

Chan swallowed, searching his eyes before he nodded. His next words were spoken gently, a warning instead of an admonishment. “He is their future king. He will be well protected.” 

Jisung bared his teeth in a grin and behind him, out on the field where the dragons were resting on a strip of dry land, Tyvaro screeched. Everyone flinched. 

Chan’s expression turned sheepish. “I see your point.” 

Jisung huffed, satisfied and stepped back to let the rest of the Northmen bring up more of their irrelevant concerns. It fascinated him almost, how Tyvaro and Solar and Morghon were right there in their line of vision and they still had questions. 

He was glad when the meeting disbanded, the Lords returning to their battalions and Chan and Changbin walking up to their horses to lead at the very front. Jisung had expected Felix to linger, his twin following Chan to his horse, but Hyunjin lingered behind as well, purple eyes fixed on Changbin like a dragon might have fixated on their next meal. 

Jisung wanted to be part of neither conversation so he left without his brothers, knowing that they’d make their way to their dragons sooner or later. 

Tyvaro greeted him with a trill and a puff of hot air across his face. Jisung grinned, scratching his dragon’s maw before he pressed his face to the side of his neck, matching his breathing to the pulse he could feel there. 

“Vīlībāzmot arlī, rōvalbar.” 

Tyvaro screeched, tail whipping against the earth as if to say “I’m ready! Let’s eat them all!” and Jisung laughed. He ran his hands all over his dragon’s flank before he climbed onto his back. 

He didn’t have to wait for neither Hyunjin nor Felix. All they had to say to each other, they’d said to each other the night before and there was no one else Jisung had words for. 

In that, it was easy from there on out. He didn’t even have to give the command. Tyvaro lifted into the air all on his own, the beating of his mighty, green wings enough to bring them up into the air fast. Together, Jisung and his dragon ascended into the sky, higher and higher to come back down with a vengeance. 

Below them, a horn sounded in the distance and the battle began. 

*

Seungmin was a man of study, of knowledge and the observable. He did not pray.  

He stood back and watched, a silent sentry like he’d always been, as Jeongin pressed his hands against the bark of the heart tree, bowed his head and prayed in his stead. 

There was little else he’d been doing these past few weeks. Seungmin really hoped the gods would be kind enough to answer the boy’s prayers. He could not bear any other outcome. 

Silently, reflexively, he brushed his hand over the bundle of letters hidden between the folds of his robes. 

“These are for Jeongin. Do not give them to him unless you have to.” 

“Chan—”

“He’ll need guidance so you cannot leave him alone. You know he doesn’t want to be King. Show him that it is not all bad. Remind him that duty is only love for the greater good, and there is no one who loves these lands more than him. Also,” a breath of hesitation, “poison anyone who means him harm.” 

“Hyung—” 

The eyes of a wolf were always truthful. Quietly, Seungmin believed that this was the reason the Kings of the North were always known to be upstanding. It was simply impossible for them to lie. 

“Promise me, Seungmin. Promise me that you’ll take care of him.” 

He huffed. “Of course I will.” 

Calloused hands gripped his own. “Swear it to me anyways. Swear to me you will not abandon him no matter what this is going to do to him. Swear it on your life.” 

“I swear it to you.” 

Chan nodded, just once, and pulled Seungmin into his arms, squeezing him with all his might like he’d done when Seungmin had left for the Citadel so many years ago. 

“Be well, brother. I’ll be back before the snow no longer melts.” 

“You better!” Seungmin threatened, hating the way his voice broke halfway through.

Chan didn’t make fun of him for it. He merely pulled him into another hug before he left. Before he had to leave, like everyone else Seungmin held dear. 

All except for one.

“Innie,” he said and knelt next to the boy. “Let’s go back inside now. It’s way too cold out here.” 

Jeongin turned his head to look at him, eyes red-rimmed but so, so determined. He’d be a pup for not much longer. “I have to make sure the gods have heard me.”

“They have heard you,” Seungmin promised him. “You’ve come here twice a day each day. Of course, they’ve already heard you.” 

“So they’ll come back? All of them?” Jeongin was no longer talking about the gods. 

Seungmin nodded and gently pulled the boy into his arms. He was relieved that Jeongin didn’t fight it, like he’d taken to doing ever since he’d declared himself to be a man now after Chan’s departure. 

“Of course, Innie.” Seungmin hoped, prayed maybe, that he was right. “Of course, the North will sing its victory song.” 

*

The Prince of the Vale was hiding behind his army like the traitor he was. 

Jisung gritted his teeth as he realised that there was truly not an ounce of valiance in the man’s body. While his soldiers charged forward, the two armies clashing like waves of two different seas, Minho stayed close to the gate, behind his army where no one could reach him. 

No one but Jisung. 

“Embrot , Tyvaro!” he commanded, eyes fixed on the Prince, who was easily identified by the white armour he was wearing and his helmet, shaped like the head of a falcon and embellished with dyed blue feathers. 

It was so ostentatious Jisung had scoffed when he’d first seen it. Minho hadn’t been hard to spot at all. There was no sign of him hiding in any capacity. No, he sat proudly atop of his horse while his men died in front of him. 

The disdain Jisung felt rose like bile in his throat. In tandem with him, Tyvaro opened his maw and spit fire. Several dozen arrows shot into the sky to deter him, but they all bounced off of the impenetrable scales coating Tyvaro’s underbelly. Only a handful of arrows managed to pierce the more vulnerable membrane of Tyvaro’s wings. The men who’d shot them were the first to die when Tyvaro dove down and doused the men in fire. 

Cries echoed through the air and Jisung relished in them, relished in every death of the men who wanted to hurt him or his dragon. It was happening all across the battlefield. 

Morghon’s flames and the deadly swing of his tail must have taken out a thousand men already while Solar circled high in the skies, the terrible sound of her screeches enough to frighten the Knights who dared to meet the King in the North head on. 

It was all going according to plan. 

Hyunjin had made Felix promise that he’d stay above the battle for as long as possible. Felix had agreed only under the stipulation that he’d be allowed to burn anyone who came too close to his husband for his liking. 

It happened just then when Solar dove down, incinerating the battalion about to meet Chan’s before the Vale soldiers could do so much as lift their swords. As quickly as she’d come down, she lifted back into the sky, taking out another squad with her tail on the way up. 

Jisung could hear the Northmen cheer and focussed back on his own target. 

Minho, sitting like an ugly, ostentatious bird atop his white horse, lifted his sword, calling out orders, and still made no move to leave the shadow of the Moat’s gate. 

There was no more reason for Jisung to wait. 

“Embrot!” Jisung called out and Tyvaro banked, wind whipping past Jisung’s ears. “Dracarys!” 

The men closest to Minho were incinerated as Tyvaro doused them in fire. Tyvaro flapped his wings just before they could hit the ground and shot back up into the sky in a spiral, wiping out another hundred men with a swipe of his tail. It created a swath big enough for him to land and Jisung didn’t hesitate to call out, “Tegot!” 

The Earth reverberated when Tyvaro landed, tail whipping and fangs snapping at anyone who dared to come close him and his rider. 

Jisung climbed off his dragon's back and broke into a run, right towards where Minho’s horse was baulking at Tyvaro’s appearance. Jisung pulled his dagger mid-run and threw it at Minho’s shoulder, watching in satisfaction as Minho fell backwards, the heavy white armour doing him more harm than good in that moment. 

Jisung attacked like his dragon, descending with a vengeance. He all but threw himself on top of Minho, pulling his dagger out of Minho’s shoulder to press it to his neck instead. 

Blood was spit right into his face. “Get off of me, dragon cunt!” 

Jisung snarled at the insult, digging his knees into Minho’s waist so he wasn’t thrown off. Minho bucked his hipe just like Jisung had expected him to, but something was wrong. The eyes looking up at him were Minho’s, but the mouth spitting insults at him was not. Cursing, Jisung dug his fingers under the bottom of Minho’s helmet and pulled it off. 

His breath caught in his throat. 

The man looking up at him had Minho’s auburn hair and feline eyes, but his mouth was wrong and the lines of his face ran too deep. No matter how much stress he’d been under, Minho couldn’t have aged twenty years in one month. This man was not him. 

“Who are you?” Jisung asked in disbelief. 

He was spit at again, a heavy fist hitting him in the ribs. It was almost enough to throw him off, but Jisung was tenacious. He tightened his knees and his grip on his dagger, pushing it up against the man’s neck once more. 

It seemed to be enough to make him answer Jisung, “I’m the King of the Vale, beast rider.” 

Jisung hissed and his dragon did too. Behind him, Jisung could hear Tyvaro burn another drove of soldiers to ash, those who thought they’d had a chance at helping their king. 

Their false king. This was not Minho. 

“You are not Minho.” 

The man laughed, choking on his blood. “Of course not! My nephew couldn’t dream of being me.” 

Jisung blinked, his mind running a mile a minute…N ephew? 

“Where is Minho?” 

He didn’t like the way this false king laughed at him. He laughed just like the King of Dorne had laughed, right before he’d put Jisung in chains.

“You’re one of the dragon cunts and yet you’re asking about him? I guess it is true, the North does breed loyalty. Though of course, that’s not where you’re from, is it? No, you and your brothers came across the sea and thought that you had some fucking right to rule us all.” 

The condescension in the false king’s eyes made Jisung want to cut the smile right off his face.  

“Tell me, are you the one that’s fucking King Chan? That’s some hard earned loyalty on your part, isn’t it? It almost makes me fear he did the same to my nephew. At least, that would explain the way he came here and demanded we retreat, as if the North was his kingdom and not us.” 

Jisung felt the air leave his lungs at once. “He did…what?”

“Betray us, he did!” Jisung was getting really tired of being spit at. “The Vale waited for my nephew’s return for ten years and the moment he does, he demands we lay down our arms, talking about brotherhood as if it wasn’t the North who betrayed us first! The ties between our kingdoms date back centuries and yet the Burnt Wolf was so quick to bend the knee! Well, the Vale will not follow. I have made sure of that.” 

Jisung felt his heart squeeze with something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Fear. “Where is Minho?” 

Somehow, the false king’s laughter was worse than being spit at. There was a glimmer in his eyes that Jisung knew all too well because he had been born into a family that was constantly vacillating between madness and greatness. He saw a reflection of this in the false king’s eyes, and it wasn’t greatness the coin had landed on. 

“Did you know that my nephew is afraid of heights?” For just a moment, the false king’s eyes flickered over to the Moat, to its twenty towers standing tall. “He is the Prince of the Vale, the highest kingdom in all of the lands, and yet he is afraid of heights.  It’s just shameful. Who could have allowed that? No, something had to be done.”

Something had to be done. Fear was a terrible feeling. Jisung roared with it and pushed himself to his feet, heading straight for his dragon. 

“You’re too late!” the false king called after him, choking further on his blood. “I’m the King now! And I will lead my kingdom to greatness, like I swore to do. There is nothing you or your dragon can do about it! Six kingdoms will have to be enough for you, little dragon boy!” 

Jisung took a running start and all but jumped onto his dragon’s back, not bothering to properly strap himself into the saddle before he yelled, “Sōves, Tyvaro!” 

Tyvaro roared and hurled himself into the air. It was only a lifetime of practice which kept Jisung in the saddle as they vaulted into the skies. Hastily strapping himself in, Jisung found little peace in the altitude now, his mind racing a mile a minute. 

He demanded we lay down our arms and retreat back to the Vale… That couldn’t be the truth, could it be? Minho would have never chosen Chan’s kingdom over his own. What mad man would do such a thing? Even if the North housed all his friends…

Heights, Jisung thought, forcing himself to focus. A mad king was a cruel king and a cruel king knew how to torture. His eyes snagged onto the closest of the twenty towers. Sorry, Wolf King, it seems like your stone den has to fall after all. 

“Dracarys!” 

The stones laid by the First Men burst apart under the force of his dragon’s fire, burning bricks raining from the sky and hitting some of the soldiers running through the courtyard. 

Good, Jisung couldn’t help but think and closed his eyes when Tyvaro widened the hole in the tower with his tail. Once the hole was big enough for Tyvaro to slither through, they dove down into the darkness, lighting up the way with more of Tyvaro’s flames. 

Jisung strained his lungs to call out Minho’s name, waiting for an answer with bated breath before he decided that he wasn’t going to get one. There was nothing except for an endless row of worn, lithic steps protruding from the walls and a pit filled with piles of discarded weaponry. Jisung let Tyvaro burn it all before Tyvaro ripped another hole in the wall and brought them back outside. 

Jisung patted his flank in apology. Tyvaro hated being confined inside stone walls as much as he did. 

It didn’t keep Jisung from leading his dragon to the next of the towers. This one had a glass dome which was easy to shatter. Jisung only had to cover his face as they descended in a rain of crushed glass. Some of the shards sliced into the rest of his body, but that was okay. Most of the nerve endings were destroyed anyways. 

“Minho!” he yelled as soon as they landed in the great hall below, looking around from atop his dragon’s back, but there was no one here. All that greeted him was silence and lichen covering the walls. With a frustrated snarl, he directed Tyvaro back up, leaving the way they’d come. 

This was taking too long, he decided. Something had to be done, the false king’s voice echoed in his head. The temptation to just melt the towers one by one was there, but that would have melted Minho too and…Jisung couldn’t let that happen. 

He’d promised Chan he’d bring him back. 

He’d told his brother he could do it. 

He demanded we lay down our arms and retreat back to the Vale. Minho had gone to seek peace and found punishment for it. Jisung bared his teeth at the thought, his skin itching. Even if there was none, the smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils and he let his dragon spit fire for it, taking off the top of the third tower. 

This time, there were soldiers inside. Before any of them could raise their sword or knock an arrow, Jisung had already burned them for failing to protect their prince. Tyvaro’s claws ripped massive holes into the destroyed wall and Jisung used that to see inside the other levels, finding nothing but disappointment. 

Three towers down, seventeen to go. 

“Naejot, Tyvaro!” Jisung commanded. There was no way to go but forward. 

*

A shadow fell over the world and Changbin ducked just in time for Morghon’s massive, spiked tail to pass over his head. It took out the line of soldiers right in front of him, causing the men around him to cheer. 

Changbin merely wiped the sweat out of his eyes, his heart not calming until he caught sight of the whipping fabric of a blood red cloak on top of Morghon’s massive form. Hyunjin was too far away for Changbin to be able to make out the expression on his face, but Hyunjin was alive and holding tight onto his dragon and that was all Changbin could hope for.

He didn’t get to hold onto his thoughts as the next battalion of Vale soldiers came towards him. With a roar, he lifted his sword, the answering cries of the men at his back reassuring him that the North would be victorious. Slowly but surely, they were advancing towards the Moat and soon enough, they would take it back. 

The Knights of the Vale seemed to know this too. Changbin could see it in their eyes, could see it in the way their shoulders no longer lifted quite as high as they should have. A man at war could feel his oncoming death. 

Changbin dealt it swiftly, as mercifully as he could be. He never lingered to watch the light fade from the eyes of the men he killed. There were simply too many to take their place. His world was reduced to red blood staining Vale blue cloaks, staining Northern grey whenever he it turned out that not all of his own men could evade the Gods that day. 

“General Seo!” 

Changbin whipped his head around to find that a handful of his men were being circled by twice as many Knights of the Vale. The Knights had the advantage since they were on horseback, using their spears to stab at Changbin’s soldiers. 

Rage filled Changbin at the sight and he pulled the broken end of a spear out of the closest body he could find. Since half the shaft was broken off, it was difficult to throw, but he’d been hunting bears when he’d been as little as two and ten. His aim rang true, the spear boring through one of the Vale soldier’s backs. 

The ensuing chaos of the Knight’s horse bolting was enough to break their circle. Changbin filled the gap the horse left and swung his sword at the closest enemy, grabbing onto the spear thrust in his direction and pulling the Knight off his horse by it. 

Changbin almost wanted to laugh. He knew this dance too well, having trained for it all his life. The Knights of the Vale were famed for their prowess in battle, but so was Changbin. It was easy to foresee where the next blow was supposed to land. It was easy to foresee where the tip of each spear, each side of a blade was headed. 

He did not, however, foresee the arrow. 

One moment he was fighting, parrying the valiant effort of a Knight of the Vale who was trying to take off his head with a short sword, and the next there was hot, white pain slicing open his side, making him stumble backwards. 

He tripped over the body of a fallen soldier behind him, half sunken into the muddy ground and landed on his back, his lungs refusing to inflate now that pain was pulsating through his entire being. 

Fuck, he thought, struggling to touch his own chest and see whether the arrow was still in him, to bring himself back to his feet. He knew what happened to the men who stayed on the ground during battle.

If he didn’t want to get trampled, he had to get back up. Gathering all his strength, he tried to push himself up but promptly fell back down when he nearly got run over by a horse, the dead Knight falling from its saddle landing right across Changbin’s legs. 

Cursing, he scrambled to push the man off of him, but he didn’t get very far in his efforts. A terrible screech filled the air, suspending all action in time for as long as it took the men around him to cover their ears, and then the sky turned black. The soldiers around him, no matter friend or foe, lost no time to flee, some on foot but most on baulking horses. Changbin wasn’t one of them. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to free himself quickly enough to evade it as a mountain came down on him. 

The earth shock with the force of Morghon’s landing, his talons ripping craters into the earth that showered Changbin in clumps of wet earth. He saw his death right then and there, saw himself squashed underneath the belly of the dragon and asked the Gods to be kind to him, but Morghon didn’t lower his belly to the ground like Changbin had seen him do so many times before. 

No, Morghon remained standing on all fours and the earth vibrated once more with the force of his roar, echoing across the battlefield and warning anyone in the swamplands that this human, puny as he might have been in comparison, was not to be harmed. 

Changbin couldn’t believe it, blinking rapidly to clear his vision but the ceiling of black scales above him really wasn’t coming any closer. They were just vibrating more and more with anger. 

Realising that he wasn’t going to die just yet, Changbin found the strenght to kick the dead Knight off of him, but the energy it cost him had him promptly sinking back into the mud, just breathing, breathing while the mountain on top of him lifted, lifted just enough to allow a singular figure to reach him. 

“Changbin!” 

Changbin breathed once more and pushed himself up on his elbows, knowing that they were all going to die in a field of fire if Hyunjin was under the impression that he was dead even just a second longer. 

“I’m fine!” he called out. “I’m fine,” he repeated when Hyunjin reached him, throwing himself into the mud by his side. He looked wild, his hair tousled from the wind, the red cloak of his house ripped in parts. None of it seemed to matter to Hyunjin as he pressed his shaking hands right up against Changbin’s chest. 

“I saw the arrow hit you! I saw you fall, I thought—” 

“Just a graze.” Changbin took Hyunjin’s shaking hand and placed it on the side of his ribs, right where his chainmail was sliced open and blood was welling up from the cut below. It stung and he’d definitely have to put some of Seungmin’s infection-killing ointment on it, but he was going to live. In the grand scheme of things, it really was just a graze.  

Hyunjin seemed to disagree. He let out a noise that sounded a lot like the human version of an angry dragon and then Changbin found himself pushed back into the mud with Hyunjin on top of him, kissing him. 

Changbin gasped in surprise and Hyunjin took full advantage of that. He pushed his tongue into Changbin’s mouth, biting at his bottom lip. Really, it felt more like he was being eaten alive than being kissed, but Changbin was dizzy with it, euphoric with it. He had never been kissed like this in his entire life and he likely would never be kissed like this again. It almost hurt when they pulled apart to breathe. 

“You are not allowed to die,” Hyunjin told him. 

“I’m doing my very best.” 

Changbin winced when the dragon above them roared again, the noise rattling his bones. Hyunjin looked just as furious his dragon, or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe Morghon was only as furious as his rider was. 

With every word he said, Hyunjin stabbed his finger into Changbin’s chest. “You. Are. Not. Allowed. To. Die.”

Changbin swallowed and nodded. What else could he have done, trapped underneath a dragon? 

“I won’t.” 

“Swear it to me.” 

Changbin swallowed. The oath of a Northman lasted his entire life. “I…swear it to you.” 

“Good.” Hyunjin let go of him at last, pushing himself to his feet so he could help Changbin up too. “We’re leaving this battle field together, Seo Changbin, whether you want it or not. I am not done kissing you yet.” The way Hyunjin said it made it sound like a threat.

Changbin swallowed and bowed his head, “Your wish is my command, Your Majesty.”

*

Jisung brought the battle to the Moat all by himself. 

The Knights of the Vale tried to fight, lifting their swords and shooting their arrows, but there was something the false king hadn’t known and the Knights of the Vale still didn’t. 

There was no limit to a dragon’s fury. 

Jisung made his way through the towers one by one. Burning debris rained from the sky whenever Tyvaro doused another tower in his flames, large chunks of wall hitting the ground whenever he ripped into the stone with his talons. It all crumbled like paper under his weight. 

Jisung felt their bond thrum in his blood.

His fury was Tyvaro’s and Tyvaro’s was his. Together, they left the seventh tower in ruins before moving onto the eighth.

This one was taller than the ones before it, protecting the wooden keep standing in its shadow. Jisung set fire to that first before he guided Tyvaro higher, higher into the skies until they reached the top of the tower. It only took a single swing of Tyvaro’s tail to take off the corner of the roof, creating a hole big enough for Jisung to peer through. 

What he saw made his heart skip a beat. 

Unlike the other towers which had been little more than hollow defence posts, he was looking at a real room, or rather, a real cell. It had no door. There was an archway, but no real door. Jisung noticed that, but he didn’t focus on it. 

He was only focussed on the silhouette he could make out, sitting in the shadows at the far end of the room. Minho. Jisung knew it was him. He knew the shape of his body even when it was enveloped by shadows. 

Tyvaro screeched. Minho didn’t move. 

“Lykirī , Tyv,” Jisung said to calm down his dragon, or maybe himself. His fingers shook as he undid the straps holding him in the saddle and climbed down his dragon’s leg. 

Tyvaro trilled in protest at Jisung leaving him, but Jisung was not deterred. He held his breath as his boots connected with the wooden floor, held his breath as he approached the shadows that hid the man he’d come to save. 

“Minho? Prince Minho?" 

Jisung slowly walked towards him, closer and closer until he was stopped by the crunch of metal beneath his boot. With a frown, he looked down. His stomach turned at what he saw. 

When the King of Dorne had taken him hostage, he’d chained up Jisung in one of the caves below the Old Palace. Tyvaro had followed him, snapping and whipping his tail until the King of Dorne had put him into chains too. There was no chain strong enough to truly shackle a dragon, but the King had kept Tyvaro under control by hurting Jisung whenever he snapped at one of the Dornish soldiers until Tyvaro had understood the correlation between these two things.

Tyvaro had stopped after that, but Jisung had known his dragon had merely been waiting. They’d been kept a single cave apart and in retrospect Jisung did not know whether the knowledge had saved him from going mad or gotten him there all the quicker. In a sense, hope was the cruelest thing to weaponise. The King of Dorne had given him the key to his freedom, and then kept it just out of reach.

Minho’s key was just that, a metal key placed on the floor just out of his reach. Jisung could tell by the blood staining the neckline of his shirt that Minho had tried to reach it, had tried to free himself from the thick, iron shackle fastened around his throat. 

Something had to be done, the false King of the Vale had said. 

Rage filled Jisung like never before, but he forced himself to be calm in his movements, deliberate. 

“Minho,” he said again and this time, Minho twitched where he was sitting on his haunches, slumped over with only the shackle around his neck keeping him upright, chained up high to the wall behind him as it was.

Blood trickled down his neck when Minho lifted his head. His lips were so dry they cracked when he smiled. “Are you real?” 

Jisung bit his tongue. Tyvaro screeched again, uttering the pain Jisung couldn’t. “I am real.” 

He knew exactly why Minho was asking. He’d dreamt of his brothers too, in the cave below the Old Palace. He’d dreamt that they would come and rescue him. When it had happened, he had not been able to believe it either. 

“I have to be real, don’t I? You wouldn’t dream of me coming to rescue you, would you?” 

Minho attempted to nod before he aborted the motion, a small gasp of pain escaping him. More blood trickled down his neck. Curling his fingers around the metal, Jisung pushed the key into the lock on the shackle and twisted it open. 

When the shackle didn’t spring open on its own, he grabbed the two sides of it, catching Minho’s gaze before he moved any further. Minho blinked rapidly, his gaze flicking all over Jisung’s face before he nodded his head as much as he dared. Jisung inhaled deeply, exhaled and gathered all the strength he could muster, all the strength Minho needed of him. Their eyes met once more. 

A whisper the sound of which Jisung would never be able to forget, “Do it.” 

Jisung pulled on the two sides of the shackle, pulled and pulled until the shackle sprung open and they were both set free. 

Notes:

wahh so many things!! so many more to come!! thank you for being here!! i'd love to know what you think below <3<3<3

 

bird app

Chapter 9: down headfirst

Notes:

mittys = idiot

Chan pulled his sword out of a man’s chest and lifted it to strike down another. 

Sweat dripped into his eyes, his breath coming out in ragged puffs, but he knew respite was still far away. The battle was endless. It seemed that for every drove of enemy soldiers they defeated, a new one emerged from the Moat. Still, Chan knew they were making progress. He knew the fighting could not last forever, even if it felt like it. 

It was easier to stay standing with Changbin right by his side. They had advanced far enough for the two wings of their army to come back together, having swallowed the Vale soldiers in between. Or burned them to ashes. 

Wiping the sweat out of his eyes, Chan looked upwards, up towards the golden fleck of sun that was all his own, protecting him and his men more effectively than any deity could have. 

The only thing that could defeat a dragon was another dragon, truly. 

As if called upon, a screech filled the air and Chan looked in the direction of the Moat, where a familiar green shape was launching itself into the air. Tyvaro’s shriek sounded different than the other dragons’, higher-pitched and trilled as if his vocal chords hadn’t formed right. Chan didn’t, for even a second, believe that it made him any less of a dragon than the others.

Only a fool would have thought so, watching the giant, green beast descend from the sky. 

It wasn’t until Chan realised that Tyvaro was about to land right in front of him that he thought to flee. His men did. Chan wasn’t as smart as them. He walked forward, eyes fixating on the familiar silhouette Tyvaro was carrying in his talons. 

Tyvaro was longer and slimmer than the other dragons. There were still a good number of enemy soldiers he squashed beneath himself when he landed right in front of Chan’s feet, first on his hind legs then one front leg before he gently lowered the other. Chan ran the last couple of metres, wading through mud and worse to get to his brother. 

Changbin reached Minho almost at the same time, helping Chan pull their brother up from the earth and into Chan’s arms. What Chan saw made him whimper. 

There was very little left of his brother. 

Where he’d been healthy and strong, Minho looked gaunt and starved and there was so much blood on him, Chan feared someone had slit his throat. 

“Minho!” 

By some miracle, Minho wasn’t dead yet. Chan knew that it wasn’t a blessing for him. Blood pearled on Minho’s lips when he moved them in soundless whispers. His pupils moved but his eyes didn’t open. 

“Minho-yah,” Chan begged again. “Look at me. Please, open your eyes and look at me. Just—just open your eyes.” 

Minho did, but it wasn’t Chan he was looking at. It was Jisung, who’d come to kneel beside them in the mud. Jisung didn’t look at anyone else either. 

“Is he real?” Minho asked him. 

The smile that formed on Jisung’s face was maybe the gentlest expression Chan had ever seen on him. “He is. I’ve brought you home, hontes mijegon tīkuni. I’ve brought you to your brothers like you asked.” 

Minho’s lips widened into a smile and so did the cracks in the corners of his mouth. He blinked several times before his eyes finally focussed on Chan. 

“Hyung?”

“I’m here, Minho-yah.” Chan held him as tightly as he dared. “Your hyung is here. It’s okay now. We’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Minho made a visible effort to hold his gaze, even if his eyes seemed to be drawn to the sky, searching for their Gods. 

“Hyung.”

“Minho.” 

When Minho spoke again, his voice was so faint Chan had to lean down to properly hear him. 

“Do you think I would have made a great king?” 

Chan was helpless against the sob that ripped from his throat. He nodded, stroking Minho’s hair out of his eyes for him. “Yes! Yes, you are going to be the greatest king of us all!” 

Something in Minho relaxed at that. His eyes fell shut as a single tear rolled down his cheek. He did not open them again. He did not open them again and Chan realised that there was something worse in the world than dying yourself. 

The noise that left him was barely human. “Why?” he asked, maybe the gods or maybe himself, but there was no one to answer him either way. 

No one but Jisung, it seemed.

“The false king locked him up in a tower,” he said, face turning towards the Moat. “He put a shackle around his neck and left him to starve.” 

Chan stared at the ring of bleeding, rubbed-raw skin encircling Minho’s throat where the metal must have sat. 

“He also called him his nephew.” 

Chan’s entire being stopped before his fury reignited with the fire of a thousand dragons. A part of him refused to believe it. He couldn’t believe that Minho’s uncle, the same, vibrant man he remembered from countless banquets as a child, had betrayed Minho, but then he could believe it. If he’d learned one thing, it was that there were no limits to a man’s greed. 

Minho had been away from home for a long time. When the message of dragonlords’ arrival in the North had reached the Vale, his uncle had already been in charge for ten years. Chan knew the man’s views on the matter, which had greatly inspired Minho’s. They had all thought the same before Chan had learned to know better. 

Because of it, he understood why the Knights of the Vale had marched on the North. He did not and never could have understood this, however. He could not understand why he had to hold the lifeless body of his brother when he’d been so strong and healthy before. When Minho had only come to the North to learn, to learn how to be a better king for the people who’d betrayed him. 

The grief was immeasurable, making Chan vibrate inside his own skin until it became too tight for him. The scream that left him was one of raw grief, of refusal to accept the things he could not change. Not the way he was right now. Not as who he was right now. Much like Minho’s gaze, his eyes, too, were drawn up towards the sky. 

He was powerless in the confines of his own body, but he was not confined to his own body. 

In the end, it was as easy as stepping over the threshold of a door, walking from one room into the other. When he fell, he fell only to cover his brother from harm. When he fell, he did not fall down but upwards, soaring higher and higher until he was bigger than his body, mightier and so, so angry that his breath filled the sky with fire. 

*

Chan’s body collapsed and above them, Solar let out an ear-splitting screech. 

Changbin’s heart dropped right to his knees when he saw the way Chan’s eyes rolled back into his head, leaving only the whites. He was barely quick enough to catch his King before Chan could bury Minho underneath him, the weight of his armour pressing them both into the mud. 

“Fuck!” Changbin cursed, struggling to pull Chan off of Minho. 

“Help me!” he directed at Jisung, but the dragon prince drew back instead of reaching out to help. Changbin had no time to curse him when Jisung ran away, right back to his dragon. 

“General Seo?” one of his men called out to him, reminding Changbin that they were still in the middle of a battlefield. 

“Close ranks!” he yelled. 

“Ser Changbin, is the King—”

“Close ranks! Don’t let anybody come close!” 

His soldiers might not have understood what was happening, but they did understand orders and so they formed a protective circle around them. Changbin trusted his men to have his back as he pulled his King, his friend, into his arms. Tugging on Chan’s shoulders, his hair, did little to bring Chan back to him. 

“Not you too,” he begged. “You can’t do this to me, hyung. I’m not losing you both on the same day so you better wake up. Wake up!”

Around them, the sound of battle continued but Changbin could focus only on the fact that Chan wasn’t waking up. The sight of Chan’s white eyes freaked him out, but he didn’t dare close them. He was too afraid Chan wouldn’t open them again. The rapid movement of his eyeballs was the only thing that Changbin had which proved that his King was alive. 

Commotion in front of him made Changbin look up. With nowhere else to put his feelings, Changbin was ready to fight a god when the circle of soldiers protecting him was breached, but it was not an enemy who’d come. 

At least not the one Changbin had expected. 

Jisung returned doused in iridescent black. Out on the battlefield, Tyvaro was shrieking and screeching as if in pain, but inside the circle Jisung was calm. Changbin did not stop him when he reached for Minho, when he pulled Minho’s head into his lap and brought his mouth to his neck. 

Changbin was not prepared for the rush of iridescent black blood that Jisung let spill out of his mouth. He coated Minho’s entire neck with it and then brought their lips together, letting the last of it dribble into Minho’s mouth. 

Changbin watched in horrified fascination as the bleeding around Minho’s neck quelled, the weak, barely there rise and fall of his chest strengthening with every second that Jisung kept their mouths pressed together. 

“You will not die,” Jisung told him when he broke their kiss. Minho wasn’t awake to hear it, but Changbin had a feeling that this didn’t make a difference to Jisung. 

All that mattered was that Minho was breathing, and would continue to do so.

Neither of them, Changbin told the gods, you can’t have either of them.

“Yah!” He kicked at Jisung’s leg and was promptly met with the full force of a dragon rider’s glare. 

Changbin didn’t care. “Help him too!” he demanded, pointing at Chan. 

Jisung blinked, tilting his head to the side as if he was genuinely confused by what Changbin was asking of him. 

“King Chan,” Changbin demanded again, “help him too!” 

Jisung frowned. “But your King is not hurt.”

“Does he look fine to you?!” 

Jisung scoffed at him. “Tyvaro’s blood wouldn’t help him, mittys.”

“What?” 

Jisung’s eyes were alight with dragonfire when he looked at Changbin, truly looked at him. He cocked his head. “Do you not know?” 

“Know what?” Changbin growled at him. 

“Your King,” Jisung pointed at Chan, “He is not hurt.” Jisung’s smile looked gruesome with his teeth coated in dragon blood. His words sent a chill down Changbin’s spine. “He is a skinchanger.” 

*

All Chan was was fury and all his fury was fire. 

He roared, burning another broad swath through the army below. He could hear Felix scream above him, scared because his dragon was no longer listening to his commands, but in the end it didn’t matter. In the end, all Chan was was his fury and there was nothing that would survive in the face of it. Of him. 

He roared again, scanning the sea of men below, so puny and yet the damage they’d done was immeasurable. Screams rose in the air as he set fire to another battalion, watching as the soldiers were swallowed by his fire. 

The sight pleased him, but it was not enough. 

They needed to burn, burn, burn for having betrayed their prince, for having betrayed Chan’s brother. With another beat of his wings, he was fast-approaching the Moat. Half of it was left in ruins already by Tyvaro. Chan didn’t mind. He’d burn it all to find the man who was responsible for his suffering. 

In the end, he didn’t have to look farther than the gate. Chan’s childish memories were hazy, but he remembered enough to know that this Knight in shining, white armour was the man he was looking for. Minho’s uncle had always had a taste for the lavish. Chan had seen him dress in extravagant clothing and glinting jewellery before, and his war get-up was no different. 

The feathers on his helmet made him look like a bird, but Chan was a bigger bird of prey. He dove down, shrieking as his wings were pierced by arrows, but it didn’t deter him. He snatched the blood traitor up with his talons, relishing in the cries of the man as he was lifted into the air. 

The urge to incinerate him mid-air was immeasurable, but this was not the ending Chan wanted for him. It was not enough for him to die so easily. Flapping his wings, Chan lifted back into the air, taking out another drove of soldiers on the way up with his tail. It was easy to find his way back to his body. 

Morghon had landed to curl around him, an insurmountable mountain of dread protecting Chan and everyone who has with him. Tyvaro was keeping himself in the air by Morghon’s exposed side, spitting fire at anyone who dared to come too close. 

Where he’d folded one wing over what he was guarding, Morghon lifted it when Chan approached. Chan landed right where he could see himself, propped up against Changbin’s chest. It was jarring to see his own body from the outside, but that sensation, too, got swallowed by the fury still coiling in his guts. Without preamble, he dropped the blood traitor right where he’d landed, shrieking at Changbin to take a hold of him already. 

Hyunjin, who’d been crouching by Changbin’s side, promptly sprung to his feet, meeting Chan fang to fang. 

“Yah!” he yelled. “Calm down, girl! Felix!” 

“I’m trying!” Felix’s windswept voice reached Chan’s ear. “ Lykīri, Solar!” 

Fear gripped Chan’s heart and he knew it was not his own, but that made it all the worse. All at once, the tight control he had of his draconian body waned and something started pressing against the confines of his mind, something overwhelming and angry. Or rather, someone. She was trying to push him out. 

The avalanche of sensations caused Chan to stumble backwards, screams rising into the air as his tail whipped across the ground. Felix, who was in the middle of scrambling off his back, screamed as he fell the rest of the way. The pressure against Chan’s mind turned into a furious bite, threatening to break his mind right open should he not give way. 

So he gave way. 

Once more, it felt like crossing from one room into the next, but this time, he was shoved over the threshold. His back arched, air rushing into his lungs as he took a deep breath in, but it were his own lungs that expanded and what he saw when he opened his eyes was no longer tinted golden.

The sky was beautiful no matter what kind of eyes one possessed. Chan didn’t get to enjoy the sight for very long. 

His lungs seized with panic. 

“Felix!” he wheezed, struggling against the wet grip of the muddy ground against his back. His limbs were shaking, refusing to cooperate with him. He could not walk so he crawled to his husband where Felix sat on the ground with Hyunjin to his right and Solar, her head pressed to the earth, to his left. 

“Felix!” He ignored the way Solar hissed at him, the way Hyunjin did. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

“He’s fine,” Hyunjin said, but there was a furrow between his brows. “It’s just the shock.” 

“I’m fine, Chan.” But Felix didn’t look fine. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at his dragon, pressing a shaking hand to her snout. In Valyrian, he whispered, “Forgive me, Solar. Did I do something wrong? Give me a sign and I’ll never do it again. Please, I’m sorry.” 

“Stop, Felix,” Jisung said, joining them. “It is not your fault she went crazy.” His eyes were ablaze with dragon fire when he looked at Chan. “It is his.” 

Chan blinked, only then realising that he could understand them. Not in chunks like before, but entire sentences. The countless tombs and scrolls he’d sifted through after pulling them out of their chests hidden deep in Winterfell’s catacombs hadn’t lied to him then … The interaction between the mind of the warg and the wolf causes both to leave traces on the other’s soul... Chan hadn’t warged into a wolf, but that didn’t seem to make a difference. The dragon he’d taken ahold of had left something in him and now he could understand Valyrian as if it was his mother tongue, too.

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin asked Jisung, moving ever so subtly to shield both of his brothers from Chan’s view. His hand not so subtly wandered to the handle of his sword. 

Over his shoulder, Jisung watched Chan as if he expected Solar to have left something more beastly within his soul. “The Wolf King is a skinchanger.” 

“What?!” 

Both Hyunjin and Felix looked at Chan in shock. In the face of Felix’s upset, Solar rumbled, gently nudging Felix with her snout as if to say, “Get up, little one. I’ll take you far away from here.” Holding onto her maw, Felix got to his feet. Standing on shaky legs, he stared at Chan. 

“Is it true?” Hyunjin asked in the common tongue. His grip on Blackfyre tightened. “You’re a skinchanger? And you took control of Solar?” 

Chan raised his hands, unsure of how to explain that she had taken a hold of him first, had pulled him into her memories when he hadn’t known yet what they meant. What it meant for him to be able to see them.   

“Hyung!” It was Changbin’s voice that made all of them turn.

For the second time in a very short amount of time, Chan felt like he was slammed back into his body. He remembered, at once, what had made him leave the confines of his own body in search of something bigger, something with bigger teeth.

Changbin was kneeling on the ground, holding up Minho so he didn’t sink into the mud. Minho, who was awake and blinking slowly, looking at his uncle where he was caught at the point of Changbin’s sword. The few brave men of the North who’d been caught under Morghon’s wing with them had done well suspending the false king on his knees so he couldn’t escape, neither Changbin’s sword nor Minho’s scrutiny. And certainly not Chan’s wrath. 

A big part of Chan itched to just take Ice and cleave the man’s head clean off his shoulders, but that would have answered none of his questions. And he had a lot of them. 

“Bang Chan,” the man spit when Chan came to stand in front of him. “You’ve grown almost as tall as your father.” 

“Uncle,” Chan said because that’s what he had called the man as a child. That was how close they had been. Chan squinted as he crouched down to get a good look at the man’s aged face. “You’re wearing a crown that does not belong to you.”

He was nearly spit at with the force of the false king’s words. “It is mine all the same.” 

Chan shook his head. “You took it while Minho was away. You took it and started a war you could only lose.” 

“Something had to be done! You might think of me as greedy, I can see in your eyes that you do, but that is not the truth. I merely stepped up to the plate. I asked Minho to come home! I sent him letter after letter, but he never answered!”

Chan looked over his shoulder at Minho, who’d grown even paler than before. 

It took him a moment to speak, as if he was afraid to do so. His voice came out no louder than a whisper. “I didn’t know what to say.” 

Chan shook his head, barely withstanding the urge to walk over to his friend and squeeze his shoulder. He did not blame Minho for never having told him about the letters. 

Instead, he turned back to his uncle. “So you betrayed Minho instead? Your own blood?” 

“Minho betrayed me first, all of us in the Vale! He finally, finally stopped playing wolf at Winterfell to join his men and what is the first thing he does? He said to stop the siege!” 

He said to stop the siege. Something in Chan’s chest loosened. He’d always believed that Minho would not betray him, but it was nice to have confirmation, even if it had come from the mouth of a traitor. 

“Did it ever occur to you that he told you to stop because he, unlike you, could see the outcome?” Chan grinned, slow and gruesome like he rarely forced himself to be. “He, unlike you, knew you’d lose against the North. Against the dragons.” 

As if on command, Solar screeched and it didn’t take very long for Tyvaro and Morghon to chime in. The earth reverberated with the force of their roars. 

Chan could see it, the way the truth seeped into the false king’s mind. Like most men, his own failings made him angry.

“Just because you rolled over for some dragon cunt doesn’t mean the Vale is going to do the same! I merely did what needed to be done! I—”

Chan flinched when he was hit with a spray of blood. Crimson coated his face and doused his entire front, filling his mouth with the vile taste of iron. In disbelief, Chan wiped his eyes to see that Jisung had cut the King a new smile, right across the middle of his throat. 

“You talk too much,” Jisung sneered, wiping his dagger on the man’s feathered cloak before kicking his shoulder with his boot so he landed face first in the mud. What was left of him anyways. 

Jisung stepped right over him to crouch down in front of Minho instead, poking him in the forehead with his finger. 

“Did you see that?”

Minho nodded, but his eyes were glued to where his uncle lay in the mud. Where his uncle’s corpse lay in the mud. 

“The blood traitor is dead now,” Jisung said as if that wasn’t obvious. 

Minho nodded again, finally able to look at Jisung. It clearly hurt him to speak, but he did it all the same, “Thank you.” 

What exactly he was thankful for, he didn’t specify. Jisung seemed to understand him anyway. Seeing Jisung smile was a lot like witnessing a sun flare. It was brief and blinding and afterwards one had to wonder whether it had happened at all. 

“The false king is dead!” Hyunjin spoke up, effectively gathering the attention of everyone who wasn’t Jisung or Minho. He turned to Chan. “He was your enemy so you can decide what you want to do with his body.” 

Chan blinked. When an answer didn’t come to him quickly enough, Felix said, “Hang him from the highest tower of the North. All those who pass through should learn what happens to those who turn against the North.” 

Chan stared at his husband. Felix held his gaze, not the slightest hint of an apology in his eyes as he jutted out his chin and Chan was promptly reminded just who he had married.

He nodded. 

“You heard my husband!” he directed at his men. “Spread the word! The fight is over! The false king is dead and Prince Minho has returned home to take his rightful place as King of the Vale! He orders his men to return home!” 

More quietly, and just to Changbin, Chan added, “Round up all the Lords of the Vale you can find and bring them here. They can choose to swear fealty to Minho right here on the battlefield, like they should have done before this cursed war started, or they can follow their false king to his end.” 

Changbin nodded and when he moved, Hyunjin did too. At once, Morghon lifted in the air, the earth shaking when he did. Hyunjin stayed on the ground without him, choosing to walk beside Changbin instead.  

“I am coming with you, my darling knight. The Knights should meet me anyways.”

“The Conqueror,” Changbin said, but it didn’t sound like an insult. It sounded reverent. “Indeed, they ought to see who rules us all, eh?”

Hyunjin grinned.

Chan realised he was too afraid to ask what had caused them to become so…familiar with each other. There were more pressing matters to tend to anyways. 

He was a king, but he would never be above kneeling in the mud for those he loved. Minho looked very faint where he was sitting in the mud, but he still found the strength to meet Chan’s eyes. 

“Hyung,” he said and Chan knew exactly what he wanted to say. 

He smiled, wiping his thumb across Minho’s forehead where soon enough, his crown would sit. “It’s time, Minho-yah.” 

Tears gathered in Minho’s eyes but he nodded all the same. 

Quietly and raw, he admitted. “It hurts, hyung.” 

Chan didn’t hesitate to pull his brother into his arms. He was so thankful for the returning strength of the arms that wrapped around him in return, for the warmth of his brother’s embrace. “I know. I know it hurts, Minho-yah.” 

*

The Knights of the Vale were led by thirteen Lords. Eleven of them bent the knee to Minho right where he sat in the middle of the battlefield, propped up against Tyvaro’s warm belly. The two Vale lords that refused to swear their fealty to Minho joined their false king in the mud, meeting their Gods the same way. 

Chan watched it happen, watched Jisung clean his dagger over and over, until he was sure that it was okay to leave. To finally tend to his own wounds, the ones he had inflicted.

He found Felix already waiting for him in his tent. 

His husband was standing with his back to the entrance, watching himself in the mirror that stood next to the wooden mannequin which soon would hold Chan’s armour again. He didn’t need it anymore, but he did need his husband and so he didn’t hesitate to step up behind him. 

Felix didn’t move, even when their eyes met in the mirror. Chan had expected as much 

“Felix,” he said to prompt his husband to speak.

Felix turned around, looking at him with a carefully blank expression. “Skinchanger,” he said. A question, an accusation and a cry of grief all in one. 

Chan lowered his head. “I myself haven’t known for a long time.” 

“For how long have you known?”

“I told Seungmin about the dreams I had while I was recovering in his quarters. He helped me do some research. I am not the first of my blood who has this…ability, but it is wolves, usually, that we warg into.”

Felix’s eyes fell to the wolf crest decorating Chan’s breastplate. “I see.” 

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. It’s something I haven’t fully grasped myself.”

Felix frowned, reaching out to press his hand against Chan’s heart, as if he wanted to make sure it was still beating. “I was scared. When you took over Solar’s body, I…I felt it as if she was far away from me all of a sudden and then she wouldn’t answer me when I called to her and—”

Chan didn’t hesitate. He sank to his knees, pressing his face into Felix’s stomach. “Forgive me, my heart. I’ll beg her for forgiveness too.” 

“Don’t do that to me again, Chan, or her. Pick a wolf next time, but not—not her.” 

“There will be no next time,” Chan promised. “I won’t do it again ever.”

Felix frowned. “Ever?” 

“There’s a price to pay for seeing through the eyes of another, and I don’t wish to pay any more than I already have. Taking over the mind of a bird makes one want to fly, but humans do not have wings. I do not wish to yearn for it any more than I do now. The only time the skies should ever have me back is on Solar’s back, if you allow me.” 

Gentle fingers dug into his curls, carding through the knotted, mud-clumped strands. 

“I saw it when you collapsed. I saw it and then I couldn’t help you because Solar—well, you weren’t listening to me. Can you imagine how that felt for me?”

Chan pressed his face into his husband’s stomach once more. “I’m sorry.” 

Felix took a shuddering breath, then nodded. “It is over now.”

“It is.” It was a promise. 

When he looked up, Felix was looking at him again as if he knew him. “Chan,” he said, sounding so hopeful, “are we going home?”

“Yes, love, we are going home.” 

*

The snow was no longer melting and the King in the North returned to Winterfell. Seungmin watched as Jeongin bolted forward, his yipping pack of wolves following him on foot. 

“Hyung!”

Chan lost no time sliding off his horse so he could scoop Jeongin up into his arms, the both of them laughing brightly as they embraced each other. Jeongin’s wolves circled them, yipping and swishing their tails across the snowy ground. 

The sight made Seungmin smile. It was good to see the life return to the castle. It was good to know that Jisung had not lied to him when he’d said that his King and all their friends were on the way back. 

Seungmin had been sceptic when the dragon prince had returned days before everyone else, arriving on the back of his giant green beast. Seeing only Tyvaro in the sky, Seungmin’s heart had fallen to his knees, but he’d quickly learned that Jisung had flown ahead for a reason. He had taken Minho back with him on his dragon, dropping him right in front of Seungmin’s feet with the order to,

“Help him, Maester. Your King has ordered it so you must help him.”

Seungmin hadn’t appreciated being talked to like this, as if he would not have done anything in his power to help his friend anyways, but there’d also been more pressing matters to attend to, like the fact that Minho’s neck was a single open wound. Dragon blood had done a lot to stop the damage from worsening, but it was there and needed real medicine. 

“The day I will not see your dragons bring back my friends to me half-dead will be a joyous occasion.” 

Jisung hadn’t replied. He’d merely bared his teeth and watched closely as Seungmin crushed herbs in a mortar and worked them into a thick, stinking paste that he applied all around Minho’s throat. 

It would take time to heal, but by now Minho could swallow again and they’d been able to feed him real food. Seungmin counted that as a win, thanking the Gods that he did not have to part with a single person he loved, even if they’d met each other on opposite sides of the battlefield. 

“Seungmin-ah!” Chan greeted him, scooping Seungmin into his arms much like he’d done to Jeongin. 

Seungmin protested, hitting Chan in the shoulder to be let down, but he could not stop the laughter that escaped him as he was set back down on his feet. It was comprised of little joy and a lot of relief. 

“So you’ve come back.” 

Chan grinned, dimples digging deep into his cheeks. “As promised.” 

Seungmin nodded. “I guess I’ll burn your letters, then?”

The bright sparkle of joy in Chan’s eyes dimmed and Seungmin almost regretted his words. 

“Yes,” Chan said. “And don’t—don’t tell him they ever existed.” 

“Of course.” 

Chan looked sullen for a moment before he brightened. “But before you do that, go to the kitchens and tell the cooks to prepare a feast.” 

“A feast?” 

“Of course.” The winter sky was an endless grey, but Chan’s face still looked as if it was illuminated by the sun when he looked at his husband. Felix looked like someone divine where he was sitting on top of his dragon, his golden armour matching her scales. “War is over, and I have a wedding to celebrate.” 

Notes:

next chapter: a Northern wedding! a draconian secret! and a final conquest!

i always love to know what you think below! <3<3<3

more writing-related stuff on my twt

Chapter 10: it's time to emerge

Notes:

oh....my gods, here we are. the final chapter. the grand finale. thank you so so much everyone for making it this far. i'd give all of you a dragon if i could.

special thanks to minty for beta-ing and literally holding the threads of my sanity together while writing the ending. and as always also all my love to you, n for being my reason.

i hope you enjoy the ending, everyone, it is the best i could give them <3

Snow covered the frozen earth, turning the ground of the inner courtyard into frosty mud, but no one seemed to care as the assembled courtiers of the North danced and drank and celebrated the wedding of their King. 

Unlike before, Chan found himself in the middle of it all, dancing with his husband and admiring the way the Northern grey of his coat complimented Felix’s golden skin. There weren’t as many steps to a Northern wedding as there had been to their Valyrian one, but one thing which Chan had been very excited about was to give Felix his coat. Now here Felix was, wearing something that clearly marked him as a member of Chan’s house, of Chan’s family, as Chan’s. 

Felix smiled at him as they came back together in a dance they were both not good at. It didn’t matter. Chan didn’t think he’d ever been as happy in his life. Once Felix was back in his arms, Chan refused to let him go and while that went against the choreography of the dance and disturbed the courtiers dancing around them, Felix beamed up at him. 

The crowd cheered and whistled when Chan leaned in to kiss his husband. Felix laughed into his mouth and kissed him right back, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. 

“I love you,” he said in Valyrian, a little habit he’d taken to ever since they’d left the swamplands. 

Chan hadn’t yet told him that he understood the language perfectly well. He liked the idea that Felix got to keep some secrets to himself without holding them inside himself. 

“You look good in my coat,” Chan told him.

Felix preened, running his hands all over the grey fur. “I expect it to keep me warm this winter,” there was a breath of hesitation, his tongue passing over his lips before he added, “as I hope my husband will.” 

Chan smiled as he kissed the doubts right off Felix’s mouth. “Your gods and mine now know that there is no separating us. Whatever you desire, I’ll give to you, I promise.”

Felix smiled, his purple eyes glimmering like stars in the night and Chan thought that his gods truly must love him to grant him this life, this fate with Felix as his own. 

“I love you.” Felix said it in the common tongue this time. 

Chan gave it right back, enjoying the way the celebration roared on around them while the entire world seemed to quieten with Felix at its center. “And I love you.” 

*

“Is this for the Prince of the Vale?” 

Hyunjin quickly caught the bowl of stew in his brother’s hands before its contents could splatter all over the buffet. Unlike before, he had not come to wreak havoc. On the contrary, this was Felix’s wedding celebration and Hyunjin was not going to let anything ruin that, not even himself. 

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Jisung glared at him, licking drops of stew off his fingers before he snatched back the bowl Hyunjin had taken from him. “No,” he lied. “It’s for myself.” 

Hyunjin hummed. “So you don’t mind if I take it?” 

Jisung’s glare softened into a whine. “Get your own!” 

Hyunjin smiled and picked up a lamb chop. “You should give the Prince meat to eat. He’s lost some muscle. Eating meat will help him gain it back.” 

Jisung pulled his bowl away before Hyunjin could put the lamb chop in it. “He threw up the last time we tried that. Maester Seungmin says it’s better to keep feeding him broths and stews for the time being so his stomach has ‘time to adjust.’” 

“Ah, I see.” Hyunjin smiled. “You’re very concerned about the Prince.” 

Jisung froze for a moment before he shrugged. “Someone has to take care of him.” 

“I suppose so. And that someone is you?” 

Hyunjin already knew it was. He had seen a lot less of his brother than usual the past weeks. It seemed that as soon as Jisung woke in the morning, he ran away to make sure the Prince of the Vale drew another breath yet. 

His little brother swallowed, looking at Hyunjin with big, fearful eyes before he seemed to settle something within himself. He set down the bowl of stew to take Hyunjin’s hands instead.

“Lēkia.” 

Hyunjin smiled, tilting his head to the side. “Mhm?” 

“I have decided.”

“Decided what?”

“I am going to take Prince Minho back to the Eyrie.” Jisung squared his shoulders, as if he’d rehearsed saying this. “I will see him made king and then he can prove to me that he was deserving of what I have done for him.” 

It didn’t hurt. Really, Hyunjin had known it the moment Jisung had plunged his dagger into the false king’s neck, that Jisung had chosen this path. It didn’t surprise Hyunjin either. 

Despite what had been done to him, his little brother was not a violent person. Not at his core. At his core, Jisung had always been someone who sought to soothe others and himself, to keep them close so nothing could hurt them. When Hyunjin and Morghon had clawed open the mountain on which the Old Palace was built, Jisung’s first question had been about Tyvaro, not himself. 

So Hyunjin had known that this was coming and he did not begrudge Jisung his decision. He never could have, even if it meant that he was going to leave both of his brothers behind while he was inevitably southbound. 

He ran his fingers through his brother’s hair like he’d done when Jisung had been just a little boy and asked, “All this effort for someone you hate?”

Jisung didn’t hesitate to press into his touch. He did not flinch away from Hyunjin as he did from everyone else. The walls he had built around himself had always had a door for his brothers. 

“Minho is hurt. It is going to take him some time to recover. You do not need a weak king under your rule. His people have betrayed him once before. Tyvaro and I will make sure his lords understand that such a transgression will not be forgiven a second time. We will make sure the people remember who rules them, Minho on their throne and you above them all.” 

“So all of it is for me?” Teasingly, Hyunjin tugged on a stray, silver curl framing his brother’s face. He made sure his voice was the lightest it could be when he said, “And here I thought you just want to go with him because he’s handsome?” 

Jisung choked on his own breath, hitting Hyunjin in the shoulder before he rubbed at his flaming ears. “Lēkia!”

“What? Is it not true?” Hyunjin grinned. “I heard he’s ambidextrous too. Ser Changbin told me he’s an excellent sword fighter because of it, but I’m sure he knows how to make use of that talent in more ways than one.”

“Stop!” Jisung whined. 

Hyunjin only watched him, fond and hopeful that Jisung would get to experience a lot more moments where his own emotions may have embarrassed him, but did not hurt him. 

When Jisung spoke, he spoke as if someone was pulling his teeth. “I admit it…is not a pain to look at him.”

“An understatement.”

Jisung grinned, small and sharp and soft all at the same time. “Maybe if he annoys me I will sew his mouth shut and then he’ll be perfect.” 

Hyunjin laughed before he brought their foreheads together. It was easier to breathe like this. 

“Whatever it is you want,” he promised his little brother, “you can have it all. That is what you deserve for what you had to give.” 

Jisung choked, grabbing onto his arms, “Lēkia...”

“I love you, Jisung. All this world has to offer is yours. Have your prince and his kingdom and if that’s not enough, then send for me and I’ll give you the rest. I promise you.”

Their embrace turned into a real hug, Jisung’s face smushing against his shoulder in a way that muffled his next words, “Thank you. It’s…He needs me. He needs me and I don’t—I want to be there for him.” 

Hyunjin hummed, only wishing that he would have had more time to hug his little brother in the past. 

Much to his dismay, Jisung’s face was full of concern when they parted, “But is it fine for me to go if that means you have to return to King’s Landing on your own?”

“Of course.” Hyunjin smiled. As if on command, a mighty roar sounded in the distance. “You and I both know that I am never alone.” 

*

Minho felt as much a fair attraction like he hadn’t since he’d arrived at Winterfell all these years ago. People were whispering again, about what he looked like, about how he didn’t meet their eyes, about how he was Vale, Vale, Vale and not worthy of being considered one of them. Not anymore. Not after what his people had done and he had not been strong enough to prevent. 

He closed his eyes. 

Forget what they’re saying, Jisung’s voice echoed in his head, soon you’ll be gone anyways. Soon, you’ll be a king so do not waste your time listening to the words of those already below you. They’ll eat their words soon enough. 

Minho opened his eyes to find Jisung, but it was hard with an entire crowd of people between them. It made him cling to what he did have left. 

“And then,” Jeongin continued his tenth inconsequential retelling of the night, eagerly patting one of his wolves’ head as he spoke, “Strawberry and I got in trouble with the kitchen staff, but they let us go after I promised not to do it again.” 

“And you will not,” Seungmin said where he was standing behind the bench Minho and Jeongin were sitting on, his hand automatically landing on Jeongin’s head. “Will you?”

Jeongin craned his neck to grin up at him. “Of course not, hyungie!” 

Minho pretended he couldn’t see the fingers Jeongin had crossed behind his back. Minho merely blinked when Seungmin turned to glare at him, as if Jeongin’s mischievous ways were somehow his fault. They weren’t. Minho hadn’t spoilt him that much growing up. Surely. 

“Does your neck still hurt a lot, hyung?” 

Minho didn’t begrudge Jeongin the question. He only hummed, grateful for Jeongin’s company and so very, very sorry. Jeongin should have been dancing and celebrating his brother’s marriage with the rest of the North instead of sitting with Minho in a far corner, but Jeongin didn’t seem to care. He still looked at Minho as if he’d hung the stars in the sky and the moon his wolves howled at. 

Minho didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such reverence, but he was very glad that he had not lost the little brother Jeongin was to him. With his uncle dead and his mother having lived in her own head ever since his father had died already, the Bangs were the only family he had left. 

Involuntarily, Minho’s eyes were drawn to the other person he could not shake. Jisung was closer now, speaking with his brother whilst holding the food he’d promised Minho. 

“I did not expect it,” Seungmin said.

Turning his head was extraordinarily painful so Minho made an inquisitive noise to get Seungmin to continue talking. His eyes, he kept on Jisung. 

“I thought he was as venomous as his dragon looks, but it turns out he’s kind. He’s been such a help taking care of you. It turns out even the spikiest of the dragon princes has a caring side to them.”

“Maybe it’s because he’s human.”

Seungmin hummed. “Or maybe it’s because he’s taking care of you. He favours you.” 

Minho frowned. “I don’t know why.” 

“I can think of a reason or two.” 

Minho snorted. “There’s not enough left of me to impress anyone.” 

“That was not what I was talking about.” 

“What do you mean?” 

The iron hoops of Seungmin’s maester chain clinked together as he leaned forward, right into Minho’s space. “I think he sees in you what he wishes someone had seen in him.” 

“Someone hurt?”

“Someone worth saving.” 

Minho bit his tongue.

Mourn, Jisung had told him in the twilight, when Minho had, for the first time, seen the damage the tower had done to his body. Mourn your body as much as you need to and then move on. Your head is still attached to your shoulders and that’s all that matters. 

Minho would have snapped at anyone else for being so crass with him, but he’d seen glimpses of Jisung’s body because of rolled-up sleeves and loose collars. Jisung had a right to talk and Minho was too thankful for not having to be alone to argue with him. 

He watched as Hyunjin and Jisung hugged, Hyunjin’s eyes briefly meeting Minho’s over Jisung’s shoulder. Hyunjin’s gaze sent a shiver down Minho’s spine, but then Hyunjin was looking away, a grin stretching his lips. 

“Hyung,” Jeongin said, tugging on his sleeve. “Do you want to hear about the new sword trick I learned? I practised it really well!” 

“Yes, Innie.” Minho forced himself to smile even if it hurt. “There’s nothing I’d like more.” 

*

There was something poetic about returning to the place they had begun. 

Chan did not know why Felix had led him to the godswood of all places, but he surely wasn’t going to complain. Wherever Felix wanted to go, Chan was going to follow him, especially on this night. 

His heart only sank when Felix approached the pond instead of the heart tree, kneeling at its edge much like he’d been doing that first night they had met here. 

“Be careful!” Chan instinctively grabbed onto the hood of Felix’s coat to keep him from leaning over the edge. “I’ve told you before, but you do not know what might reach back if you stick your hand in there!” 

Felix laughed, pulling on Chan’s trouser leg to get him to kneel next to him. Reluctantly, Chan did, keeping one eye on the water. It wasn’t like Chan didn’t understand the appeal. The water was naturally hot, steam rising off its surface now that winter had come. It made the pond look very enticing, but he needed Felix to know that they still should keep away. This was not the type of pond you could carelessly take a bath in. 

“Why are we here, love? I know the water looks interesting, but it’s really a good idea to come so close.” 

Felix ignored him as he stared at the water’s edge with anticipation and adoration and a hint of nervousness. “I want to show you something.” 

“Well, show me a little farther over there—Felix!” 

Felix did not listen to him as he stuck his hands into the pond, digging at the sand of its bank. Chan was not fast enough to stop him. He could only choke on his own relief when Felix pulled his hands back out of the water by himself.

They were not the only thing that came back out. Chan stared in disbelief as Felix pulled one, then two, then three large, shimmering stone ovals from the pond. One was a deep bronze colour with golden speckles, one a pale pink hue streaked with green and one as grey as the winter sky interspersed with deep red ripples. 

Chan had never seen such a thing before in his life, but he knew exactly what they were. His breath caught in his throat. “Felix…are those…?”

“Dragon eggs.” Felix smiled at him. “I buried them here the first night we met.” 

“What?”

His beautiful, beautiful husband looked almost sheepish as he met Chan’s gaze.  “Really, I thought you had come because you knew, because you wanted to take them from me under the guise of arresting me for desecrating your holy ground, but instead you came to pray and offered me your hand.” 

“I remember that night, but I—” Chan shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know that you were hiding that and—and here.” 

“I figured this was the last place you’d look.” 

“You chose well.” 

He had never thought to look, mostly because he never could have imagined that Felix had hidden such a thing right in the heart of Winterfell. His husband looked almost shy as he offered Chan the grey egg to hold. Chan barely dared to reach out and touch it. In the end, he took it only because of the trust in Felix’s eyes. 

A small noise of wonder escaped him as he held the egg, his fingertips gliding over the hard, scaly surface of the shell. It was so warm. All he could think about was how warm the egg was, how alive . 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“It’s Solar’s first clutch.” The pride in Felix’s voice was immeasurable. He looked at the eggs as if they were his own children. “This is what I’ve been keeping from you. This is the big secret.” 

Chan nodded. He could understand how this was something Felix had kept from him. The egg in his hands was worth more than its weight in gold, than anything. “It’s so warm.” 

“They naturally are, though the pond helped keep them warm enough to stay alive.” 

“They would have died in the snow?” 

“They would have calcified and the dragons inside might have chosen to never hatch at all. These eggs, they are our hope for the future.” It was the anguish that mixed in Felix’s voice which made Chan look up at him. “I don’t know whether you’ve noticed, but Solar is the only female between her, Morghon and Tyvaro.” 

“Amongst her horde.” Chan furrowed his brows. “There are others across the sea, are there not? Valyria is filled with dragons.” 

That was one of the things that had always added to the terror that Hyunjin had inflicted upon the land, the promise of there being more dragons and their lords that would come. The grief that took over Felix’s expression answered a question Chan had never thought to ask. 

“There aren’t?” 

Felix shook his head and Chan’s heart broke at the tears gathering in his husband’s eyes. He wanted to hold him, but he was scared to set the dragon egg on the ground. Felix held the remaining two close to his chest, caressing them as if to reassure himself that they were whole and unharmed and alive.

“Valyria, my home, is gone.”

Chan swallowed, knowing that it was not his place to grieve, not until Felix had. “What happened?” 

“Seven years ago, my brother had a terrible dream.” The expression that made its way onto Felix’s face was distant, and full of sorrow. “He dreamt of fire raining from the sky, of the fourteen mountains surrounding our home erupting to cover Valyria in molten stone and ash and kill everyone, people and dragons alike.”

Instinctively, Chan tightened his grip on the egg in his arms. “That’s horrific.” 

Felix nodded, smiling sadly. “Hyunjin has always had weird dreams, but that time he knew it was Morghon who’d shown him the future, the end that was going to befall Valyria. To this day, we believe that it is why Morghon chose him. The moment he woke up, Hyunjin tried to tell as many people as he could, but…” 

“But?” 

“They called him mad. They said that fire could not kill a dragon. Arrogance and complacency go hand in hand, and my people had a lot of both. They didn’t want to leave their home, not based on the words of a boy who was barely taller than his dragon’s teeth. In the end, Hyunjin, Jisung and I were the only ones who left.”

“And now you are the only ones left.” It wasn’t a question.

“Tyvaro and Solar had only hatched for Jisung and I a couple of years before. They were barely big enough to carry us, but Hyunjin made us leave. We only knew the mountains had really erupted when the ashes blew across the sea and reached us.” Felix pressed his face to the eggs in his arms, as if their warmth could reassure him that not all was lost. “Only then did we know that Valyria was really gone.”

“I’m so so sorry, love.” 

Chan couldn’t imagine the kind of grief Felix, Jisung and Hyunjin must have gone through, knowing that the end was coming and not being able to prevent it, not being able to save anyone but themselves.

Felix shot him a soft, sad smile, “There is no use, looking in the direction of the past. We have to look windward. Morghon, Tyvaro and Solar are the last dragons in existence, but there is hope for the future still. Solar hatches. Protecting her, protecting her eggs, that is our purpose. If something happens to her, there’d be dragons no more.” 

“I’m very sorry, Felix. This must be an immense pressure. I cannot think of a heavier burden to carry.”

“Do not feel sorry for me.” Felix shook his head. “Hyunjin bears most of our fate. He’s the one Morghon chose to find safety for us. I am just Solar’s rider. My brothers had to give way more than I did to ensure our survival.”

“Still… you are her rider “ 

“And she is the greatest joy of my life.” The sadness waned from Felix’s expression, being replaced by something eternally more fierce. “I have seen her into this world and she will see me out of it. Inbetween, there is nothing she could ask of me I would not be willing to give.”

Chan nodded. He had already known that, but hearing it like this, knowing what he knew now, was different. 

“So your entire conquest…” 

“...is a means to an end. Not the one we planned, but Dorne proved to us that it is necessary. My brother never longed to rule—hates it, really—but he will for as long as the survival of all dragonkind depends on it. I am the same. If it is between my dragon and the life of every man on this continent, I will always choose my dragon.” 

Chan nodded. He understood that that included him. Yet, Felix’s gaze was soft when he looked at Chan.

“I had almost given up hope, you know? When we came here, I’d resigned myself to another failed attempt at finding a place for us to rest. A part of me was halfway ready to marry the King of the Westerlands if only because the summer lasts a little longer there.” 

“Never,” Chan growled. “That old sack of shit is never even breathing in your direction again.” 

For the first time since they had started talking about his old home, his husband let out a real laugh. “I didn’t know you to be so possessive.”

“I’d call it being protective.” Chan smiled as he passed his hand over each of the dragon eggs. “There is a lot for me to protect.” 

He was surprised to find tears glistening in Felix’s eyes when he looked back at him. “What’s wrong?” 

Felix shook his head and leaned forward to kiss him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Warm, wet fingers caressed his cheek. “For fulfilling every hope I ever had for the future. Not just for Solar, but also for myself.” 

“For you,” Chan confirmed. “I swore it to your gods and mine that I will protect you and that includes your dragon and any eggs she may lay. They can be our children,” he joked.

Felix’s expression did a funny twist at that before he laughed. Unexpectedly, he rose to his feet, the pink and bronze eggs held securely in his arms. 

“Can you carry this one?” 

Instinctively, Chan held the grey one close to his chest. “Where are we taking them?” 

“Their mother.”

Chan scrambled to his feet. “Is it safe? Winter has just begun and it’s going to be very cold.” 

“Do not fret. Solar is going to keep them warm just fine. It is as safe as it will ever be. The war is over and the North is now our home. It is time to give her eggs back to her.”

Chan stuck closely to Felix’s side as they left the godswood, thankful that the copious amounts of wine and mead at the wedding feast had ensured that the Northern court had long since fallen into their beds. The guards waiting for them at the gates, Chan waved away before they could even catch a glimpse of the treasure he was carrying. 

A dragon egg. One of three. The last ones to hatch, but the first of very many if Chan had any say in it. He understood why Felix had kept them a secret. There were many men on this continent who would have done anything to steal the egg in his hands or destroy it.

Chan wasn’t going to let either of those things happen. Not just because he’d sworn it to Felix, but also because he could not have borne it himself. Dragons were mighty and terrifying, but they were also beautiful and fierce and humbling. It is good, Chan thought, for there to be something bigger than one’s self in the world. His arms instinctively tightened around the dragon egg in his arms to shield it from the cold. 

The dragonfield was covered in snow, but the dragons did not seem to mind where they were lying curled up close by one another. Solar greeted them with a trill, rising to her full height and coming forward while Morghon and Tyvaro did little more than blink lazily before tucking their snouts back under their wings. 

“Hello, my girl,” Felix greeted her in Valyrian, giggling when she pushed her snout against his chest in greeting. “I’ve brought you a gift.” 

Felix held the eggs up high for Solar to sniff at them before he carefully placed them on the ground. “Come, Chan, lay your egg next to the others.” 

Chan approached carefully, very aware that he was getting way closer to a dragon than someone who wasn’t its rider ought to, but Solar didn’t attack him. She merely watched, blinking at him with intelligent eyes as he placed the egg on the ground. 

He flinched when Solar reared back, hissing before she spit fire, dousing the eggs on the ground in her orange flame. Even standing several metres away, Chan felt the heat and his stomach turn with it.

“Felix?” He shot his husband a nervous glance. 

“This is good,” Felix explained. “She’s getting them warm and cozy for the night.” 

‘Warm and cozy’ weren’t the first words Chan thought of when he thought of Solar’s flame, but he knew his husband knew much better than him. He took a respectful step back, watching in awe as Solar turned once around herself before she settled back against the earth, her eggs safely caught underneath her belly. 

“I assume they’re not going to crack under her weight?”

Felix outright laughed at him. “Of course not, silly wolf! Those eggs were made to be there and Solar is young. Imagine she was the size of Morghon!” 

Chan rather not, but it was easy to smile at the way Felix was beaming at him. 

Carefully, he extended his hand. “Would you like to go back to the castle now?” 

Felix didn’t hesitate to take it and that eased all of Chan’s worries. Solar blew hot air over them both, the sound escaping her sounding suspiciously like a snicker. 

Chan smiled at her, knowing how big of a sign of trust it was that she was letting him take her rider away from her. You might share your souls, but we have shared bodies before. You know I mean him no harm, because you know my bones aren’t able to lift against him. 

Solar raised her head towards the sky and screeched, causing the birds in the trees to flee. Chan didn’t flinch. He was stock-still in his awe. It never wore off, no matter how many times he saw her, how close they’d gotten. There truly was nothing more magnificent in the world than a dragon in full bloom. 

He turned his head to find Felix already looking at him. His eyes were shining with adoration and love and Chan nearly choked on how overwhelming it felt to be looked at like this by someone he loved in return. 

“Solar is warm all by herself,” he said. “We’re not so fortunate.” It was easy to intertwine their fingers and pull Felix closer. “Let me take you where it’s warm, love.” 

The sun could only dream of being as bright as the way his husband smiled. 

“Yes,” Felix breathed out, his smile catching on Chan’s lips. “Take me where it’s warm.” 

*

Chan loved the sight of his husband wearing his coat, but he loved taking it off of him even more. He pulled the fabric off Felix’s shoulders gently, every centimetre revealing beautiful, freckled, sunkissed skin. Chan couldn’t help himself. He covered the skin with his mouth, enjoying the way Felix’s hands slid into his hair, keeping his head right there in the crook of his neck. 

“Chan,” he gasped, breathless already. “Chan…the bed…”

“Don’t worry,” Chan murmured, “we’ll get there soon enough.” 

Felix keened against him, his knees growing weak but Chan had him. He’d sworn that he’d never let him out of his arms ever again and now the time had come. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered against Felix’s throat, holding him tight against himself, “you’re so beautiful, Felix.” 

Felix hummed, his eyes sliding shut. “You’re beautiful too.” 

Chan couldn’t help the quiet, deprecating laugh that escaped him. “Not quite anymore.” 

He was not prepared for the way Felix grew rigid against him, pushing him away only so far that their eyes could meet. He was not prepared for the anger in Felix’s eyes. 

“Felix?”

“You burned for me.” Felix spit his words like his dragon spit fire. His hands had slid from Chan’s hair down to his shoulders and were now digging into the thick fabric covering the marred skin. “You burned for me before there was ever any blood to seal our bond and yet you still did it. Those scars are proof of your devotion to me, which I will reciprocate tenfold. They do not make you ugly.” 

“Felix—”

“No,” Felix snapped at him and Chan closed his mouth. “Do not speak about yourself like that.” Felix’s voice broke then. “It hurts me.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Felix kept the stern expression on his face for only a moment longer before it melted into something softer, something that reached out to pull Chan to sit down on the bed with him. The giant, four-poster bed covered in furs that was theirs now. 

“I love you,” Felix said in Valyrian before he repeated it in the common tongue. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” Chan gave right back, marvelling at the way it made Felix’s ear turn pink. Felix could be so fierce in one moment and then look almost shy in the other. 

Much like Chan had done for him, Felix reached out to strip him off his upper clothing. Chan let him. Now that he knew it didn’t disturb Felix, he didn’t mind being looked at by his husband. He gasped when Felix ghosted his fingers along the edge of his burn Minho. It didn’t hurt, but the skin was sensitive still. Soon enough, Felix’s hands wandered up his neck until he could frame Chan’s jaw with his hands. His fingers poked his jawbone and cheeks, forehead and nose. That made Chan laugh. 

“Done exploring?”

Felix only hummed, a tiny smile appearing on his face. “I like looking at you.” 

Chan didn’t know what to say to that so he only ducked his head. Felix clacked his tongue and tilted his jaw back up. Chan let himself be kissed, let Felix push him back so Felix could climb into his lap and seal their mouths together. With his eyes closed and Felix’s tongue meeting his own, he reached up only to take a strand of Felix’s long, silver hair and twirl it around his finger. He let go of the strand only to push his hands under the hem of Felix’s undershirt, sliding the fabric up and over Felix’s head. 

Seeing so much more golden, freckled skin exposed lit a fire underneath Chan’s skin and he didn’t hesitate to flip them over. Felix yelped as his back hit the furs, his legs instinctively tightening around Chan’s waist. Chan curled one hand around his thigh while he placed the other on Felix’s toned stomach. The muscles contracted under his fingers, Felix’s stomach clenching as his breath stuttered. 

With only the thick cotton of their trousers separating them, Chan could feel him. With Felix’s hair splayed around his head like a crown, he looked like something divine. 

“You truly are the most beautiful man in the world.” 

“Chan.” His name came over Felix’s lips as a whine. The way Felix rolled his hips, making the both of them gasp. 

Sliding his hands up his husband’s body to feel the flesh that was trembling for him, Chan was helpless against the grin that took over his features. He really felt like a wolf at that moment. His husband was bonded to a dragon, but in that moment he was also a lamb, Chan’s lamb. 

“I’d like to devour you now,” he murmured. “Do you want that? Do you want me to make you feel good, sweetheart?”

Felix gasped softly before he nodded. It seemed to be as impossible for him to look away from Chan as it was for Chan to look away from him. 

“Please,” Felix pleaded. 

His hands came up to cover Chan’s fingers where they had reached his heart. He pulled Chan’s hand further up to his mouth, kissing Chan’s fingers before he pushed them off his body. He only did it so he could turn around onto his belly, then pushing himself onto all fours. 

Chan settled his hands on his waist, stroking the warm, soft skin before he moved one hand to the hem of Felix’s trousers and the other up to his shoulder. It was easy to fold himself over Felix’s body. It was easy to attach his lips to his shoulder, tasting more of his skin. 

“Beautiful,” he kept muttering as he pulled down Felix’s trousers and rid him off the last of his clothes. “I knew it the moment I first saw you, little dragon. The gods sent me one of their own and now you’re in my bed. I’m going to worship you in whatever way I can. Whatever you want, it’s all yours.” 

“You,” Felix shuddered and pushed back against him, pushed his cute, perky, naked butt right against Chan’s bulge. “I want you. You owe it to me, my—ah—my husband. You promised.” 

“I did, didn’t I?” Chan pushed his own trousers off too before he folded himself over Felix’s back once again, scraping his teeth across Felix’s nape while he slid his hand down to Felix’s butt cheeks and then lower, lower. “Don’t worry, I’ll make good on it. I—”

Chan stuttered when his hand met something unexpected. It was wet between Felix’s thighs, much wetter than it should have been. Chan blinked and dislodged his teeth from Felix’s neck to go investigate, trailing a searing line of kisses down Felix’s spine while trailing his hand down, down his ass until he reached the source of that wetness. He blinked again when he lifted his head to find that things were a little different than expected. There was…one more hole than he should’ve been looking at. 

He raised his gaze to find Felix already looking at him. With his head turned over his shoulder, his wide, fearful eyes catalogued Chan’s every reaction. Chan frowned and Felix’s thighs clamped shut around his hand. 

He’d been expecting this moment, Chan realised. Felix had been waiting for any signs of displeasure. The thought made Chan want to laugh. He leaned forward, keeping his hand right where it was while he pecked Felix on the cheek, soothing, and on the mouth, reassuring. 

“You didn’t tell me,” Chan whispered against his mouth, slowly stroking over the folds of the cunt he’d found. 

Felix shuddered, his entire body so reactive it made Chan want to sink his teeth into him for real. His beautiful, beautiful husband blushed all the way down to the middle of his back and Chan found that the most endearing (and arousing) sight in the world. 

Felix didn’t seem to be on the same page as him just yet. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Chan immediately shushed him, keeping up the ministration of his hand. “You don’t have to apologise. I didn’t say it was a bad thing. I’m just surprised.” 

“I can give you heirs,” Felix hurried to say, as if he had to make an offer of consolation. “Heirs of your blood.” 

Chan frowned. “No.” 

Felix’s eyes widened in shock. “No?” 

Chan shook his head. “I just got you all to myself, sweetheart, I’m not ready to share you yet. In the future, yes, we can have however many children you want, but right now I just want you.” 

Felix’s eyes grew very big and wet. “You mean that?” 

“Of course.”

An unforeseen amount of tension left Felix’s body all at once. “Thank you. I never—I wasn’t allowed to tell you.”

“Another secret?”

Felix nodded. Chan nodded too. He knew that all of Felix’s secrets were for protection. 

He hated that there was still a sliver of doubt in Felix’s eyes when he said, “But, Chan, if this—I mean if I am not to your liking then you are not bound to me.” The earnest desperation in Felix’s voice made Chan want to burn all the kings below him on the map. “You are a king. I know how these things are usually resolved. If you desire to take another—”

Chan outright growled. “Stop right there, Felix. I wedded you. I swore an oath to you. There will be no one else, neither in my bed nor in my head.”

“Chan—”

“As for this,” Chan dipped one of his fingers inside, just for a moment, just long enough to make Felix gasp, “I consider it a gift from the gods, because you are. All kings strive to prove themselves divine but I no longer need to do that, Felix, because the gods have already given me you. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my days with you, and this body. Whatever happens, I just need us to be together.” 

“Together,” Felix echoed. There were real tears running down his cheeks now. Chan wanted to kiss them off his face. 

He smiled, gentle like his ministrations. “Will you let me look at you?”

Felix still looked a little hesitant, but then he was lowering his chest to the furs, arching his back so he could give Chan a better view. Chan felt saliva pool in his mouth at the sight. 

Felix’s cock was small enough that Chan could have covered it with one hand, or swallowed it down in one go. It led right into his cunt, pink and wet and pulsing with need. Felix had both, which was something Chan had only heard stories of, but he knew how to handle both of these things separately so he was not too worried about combining his efforts. 

“You really are beautiful everywhere,” he whispered. 

Felix made a whimpering sound and Chan smiled as he went down on him, pressing his mouth right to the slick wetness. It made Felix yell and he would have properly collapsed into the furs if Chan hadn’t gripped his thighs, keeping him right where he was as he ate. 

And he ate.

“Chan— ah —oh gods, Chan!” 

Chan ignored his husband’s desperate pleading as he licked over the hot, tender flesh of his husband’s pussy, sucking on Felix’s hole while also paying attention to his cock. It really fit into his palm just fine. Chan used the copious amounts of slick dripping from Felix’s cunt to make the glide on his cock easier, drinking in every sound Felix made, every twitch of his hips and desperate whine.

He didn’t stop until Felix started shaking in earnest and then he pulled away. 

“Chan— Chan, why—no!” 

Chan pressed a kiss of consolation against one of Felix’s ass cheeks before he slowly turned his husband around. He liked having him on all fours, but that position was for breeding and that was not what Chan wanted to do tonight. He wanted to look into his husband’s eyes as he joined their bodies, their souls, so he had to turn him onto his back. 

There was a distinct pout on his husband’s face as they came face to face, his limbs still shaking as he weakly hit Chan in the chest. “You’re a cruel, cruel man, Bang Chan, the cruelest king who has ever lived, you—”

Chan shut him up with a kiss, pulling Felix’s ass onto his lap so his husband could feel the hardness there. It did a good job at making Felix stop cursing at him, his eyes growing comically wide as he seemed to realise Chan’s size. 

“Oh, you’re—you—I mean…” 

“I want to be inside you the first time you come,” Chan murmured against his lips, using some of Felix’s wetness to slick himself up. After ignoring his own need for so long, a single touch of his own hand was enough to make him groan. “Afterwards, I’ll eat you out all night long if you want, but I want us to be one first.” 

Wide-eyed, Felix nodded. The arch of his body was the most enticing thing Chan had ever seen and he didn’t hesitate to further part Felix’s legs, properly settling between them. He couldn’t stand being so far away from his husband, however, so he leant over him once more, gently pecking his lips. 

Felix immediately wrapped his arms around his neck, his eyes holding the entire galaxy when he said, “Iksan aōhon se iksā ñuhon.” 

Chan already knew, but he still liked to ask, “What does that mean?”

“I am yours,” Felix gasped when the head of Chan’s cock caught on the edge of his hole, “and—and you are mine.” 

“Until we burn for the very last time,” Chan muttered. 

Felix nodded. He gasped when Chan pushed into him. Chan swallowed the sound with his own mouth and all others that followed, groaning at the feeling of sinking into his husband. He could have died right there and been a happy man. It was wet and warm and perfect inside Felix. 

As it was, the scrape of Felix's teeth over his bottom lip reminded him that he had a job to do and so he slowly pulled out, groaning at the drag of Felix’s walls along his cock. He left just the tip in before he rolled his hips and they moaned in unison. 

“Chan,” Felix whimpered. 

“I know,” Chan panted. “Me too, my love, me too.” 

Felix tipped his head back, closing his eyes as pleasure overtook him. Chan was obsessed with watching him, the sight almost better than actually feeling him clench around his cock. He used one hand to balance himself against the mattress while he framed Felix’s face with the other, kissing his lips and cheeks and neck as he built a steady rhythm. 

Feeling Felix stretch around him, welcome him home every time he pushed back inside was a feeling like no other. “Made for me,” he whispered against Felix’s throat. “You have to be made for me. Did the gods make you for me?” 

“Chan,” Felix slurred, “feels so good.”

“You feel so good around me, love, absolutely perfect. You’re so perfect. I’m so grateful.” 

Felix whined, gasping the next time Chan thrust into him. Chan had wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Blunt nails dug into Chan’s forearm, an involuntary moan spilling over Felix’s lips as he shook his head. “Chan, ‘s so much, ‘s too much.” 

“You can take it.” Felix’s hair was pretty even when it was matted with sweat. Chan stroked it out of his face for him. “You’ll take anything I’ll give you, won’t you?”

With tears gathering in his eyes, Felix nodded. Chan let go of his cock only to slide his arms under his back, pulling Felix up with him when he sat up. Felix yelled as he sank down on Chan’s cock deeper than ever before, grappling to hold onto Chan’s shoulders as Chan continued fucking him. 

“Fuck, oh my gods, fuck!” 

Chan hummed, blinking the sweat out of his eyes as he took a hold of his husband’s cock. Felix mewled, his head falling to his shoulder, warm, wet breaths passing over Chan’s skin. 

“Chan!” Felix was clinging to Chan so tightly that there wasn’t a single breath of space left between them. Chan could feel him everywhere like this, could feel the thundering of his heart against his own. 

“I love you,” he whispered right into Felix’s ear, smiling at the whimper he received in return. “Avy jorrāelan, Felix.” 

Felix wailed as he came. Cum spurted between their bodies and Felix’s cunt clenched so tightly around Chan’s cock he thought he might never be able to leave him again. Even so, Chan fucked his husband right through it, swallowing the moans spilling out of Felix’s mouth as he kissed him, kissed him and kissed him. 

“Chan.” Breathless and shaking, Felix clung to him. His cunt was pulsing around Chan’s cock. “You too. You have to—you too.” 

And who was Chan to deny his husband?

He laid Felix down on his back again, propping one of his legs up on his shoulder before he started fucking him in earnest, chasing his own pleasure until it took him over. He groaned as he came, spilling deep inside his husband. 

Felix moaned, raking his nails down Chan’s chest as he arched his back, shaking through the overstimulation. Chan lowered himself down as far as he dared without crushing Felix beneath him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Felix’s clavicle as he came down. 

It was only then that Felix started squirming, tugging on his curls until Chan was kissing him on the lips. They lazily traded kisses until the ringing in Chan’s ears stopped and he felt like he could think again. 

Felix was already looking at him, looking happy and sated and poking at Chan’s face again. The smile on his face was everything to Chan. 

“Good?” he asked.

“So good,” Felix confirmed, stretching a little. The movement reminded Chan of a cat, “also tired.” 

Chan didn’t hesitate to turn them onto their side. He smiled when Felix threw his leg over his hip. He grabbed onto his thigh in return, keeping him there. His other hand, he used to play with Felix’s hair again. 

“Avy jorrāelan,” Felix echoed, his eyes shining in the firelight. 

“I love you,” Chan translated. “I said it right, I hope?” 

“Perfectly.” Felix kissed him. “You said it perfectly.” 

“It’s easy to say when it’s the truth.”

Felix made a noise that sounded half-delighted and half-embarrassed, burying his face in Chan’s neck. Chan wrapped his arms around him properly to hold him tight, to kiss his temple and his hair and bask in the feeling of it all. 

“Avy jorrāelan,” he repeated. “For now and ever, little dragon.” 

*

Snow covered the ground of the courtyard and Jisung did not like to cry, but for his brothers, he would.

“And promise me that you’ll write!”

“Of course, Lix.” 

“And if anyone is mean to you at the Eyrie, you’ll burn them to ash!”

Jisung couldn’t help but smile, even if it made his face feel funny to do so. “Of course, Lix, haven’t I always?” 

“Sungie,” his brother wailed. “What am I supposed to do without you?” 

“Live well. Hatch a lot of eggs. Enjoy spending time with your pet wolf.” 

Said pet wolf was watching them from a respectable distance, though his eyes never left Felix. Jisung wasn’t surprised. Ever since they’d landed at Winterfell that first day, Chan had had a hard time keeping his eyes off his brother. 

“He’s obsessed with you,” Jisung said. “Good.”

Felix shook his head, still blubbering, still holding onto Jisung as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. “I’m going to miss you so much. This is the first time we’ll be apart in…ever! Remember that you don’t have to stay at the Eyrie forever. You can always come and visit!” 

“It’s the same for all of us,” Hyunjin said as he joined them. He was in his riding leathers already, planning to take off right after Jisung. “We have dragons. It’s never more than a couple of days’ journey.” 

“Lēkia,” Felix whined and started blubbering all over again. 

Jisung watched him with fondness. Today was the day they were parting, each to a different part of the continent, and Felix had been crying about it all morning. Jisung was sure that this was why Solar had chosen to hatch for his twin. The love inside Felix could not be contained. 

“I love you,” he said honestly, ignoring the gasps it elicited from both of his brothers. He knew he didn’t say it often anymore, but he was sure that they knew. “I will see Minho made king and then I will come to see you. Both of you.” 

“Oh. ” At last, Felix stopped crying. Jisung wasn’t sure he liked the smug glint in his eyes any better. “Well, if you put it like that, do not hurry to come back here on my behalf.” 

Jisung wanted to ask him what in the gods’ names that was supposed to mean, but Hyunjin was quicker than him. 

“The Prince is already waiting for you,” he said and pointed to where Minho was, already packed and ready, standing in the shadows of the Eastern wall, right below where Tyvaro was perched on the castle wall. The younger Bang was hanging off his shoulder, blubbering his goodbyes like Felix had done, while Maester Seungmin was speaking to him in more dignified tones. 

Minho was only looking at Jisung. 

It made Jisung’s chest feel funny and his stomach rumble as if he’d eaten something bad or very, very good. He found it hard to look away from Minho, but he had to. 

His brothers were too smug already. 

“Our fates are intertwined. I don’t know in what way yet, but I’d like to find out.” 

“Chan holds him in high regard,” Felix said. “It makes me think he’s not a bad man.”

“He never has been.” Jisung didn’t know what made him say it. 

He didn’t even know whether he truly believed it. What he did know was that he wished that someone—someone who wasn’t bound to him by blood like his brothers were—would have ever looked at him and said the same. 

“Whoever he was,” Hyunjin said, “he will grow to become someone new, now that he will take his throne.”

Jisung squared his shoulders. “I’ll make sure to secure our interests while that happens.”

“And your interests.” Hyunjin smiled, stroking Jisung’s cheek. “Don’t forget about yourself, Jisung. You’re the most important person in the world.” 

Not even close, Jisung wanted to say but he knew Hyunjin would get angry if he said that and Felix might start crying again. In the end, Jisung’s heart was filled with nothing but love for them, his brothers who had carried him this far. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he promised Felix. “Whether the winter lasts or spring comes too soon, I’ll come and see what you’ve built for yourself.”

Felix only nodded, sniffling again. Hyunjin slid his arms around them both, squeezing them like he’d always had done when they’d fit onto his hips. 

“Fire and blood,” he said. “Both runs through our veins. Because of it, this world belongs to us. I love you both.”

“We love you, lēkia,” he and Felix said at the same time. 

They all squeezed each other tightly. 

After that, it was easy to walk away. It still hurt, of course, but Jisung was used to pain. He would endure it. He would endure it to maybe find something that was entirely his own, which he could then tell his brothers about.

Tyvaro trilled when he came closer and slid the rest of the way into the courtyard. 

Jisung extended his hand, offering it towards Minho. “Are you ready?” 

Minho stared at him, at his dragon and back at Jisung’s hand. “Not really.”

Jisung smiled. He could hear Jeongin gasp at the sight. “Me neither, but we should go anyways.”

Minho nodded and then he was taking Jisung’s hand. Then, he was letting Jisung tell him how to get onto Tyvaro’s back, who snapped and snarled, but did not eat him. 

“Good boy,” Jisung told his dragon in Valyrian and stroked Tyvaro’s flank. Tyvaro didn’t truly calm down until Jisung was on his back as well, but after that it was easy. 

“Hold tight,” he told Minho and Minho did, wrapping his arms around Jisung’s smaller waist. 

The thought made Jisung smile. Maybe, one day he’d get Minho to do it again without a dragon under them. A thought he tucked away for later. 

“Sōves, Tyvaro!” 

Tyvaro roared and spread his wings and lifted into the air. Jisung held onto him like it was second nature while Minho held onto him. 

Like that, the first of the dragons left Winterfell. 

*

A mad king should stand alone at the end. 

That was what Hyunjin thought as he stood on top of the castle wall, watching the snow fall from the sky. He had paid his goodbyes, both to his brothers and the Bangs. He had taken an iron sword from Chan to add to his throne so everyone would know that the North, too, obeyed his command. The only thing left to do was leaving. 

“You’re really leaving.” 

Hyunjin smiled at the sky. “I am.”

A beat of silence. Come closer, Hyunjin thought. I was waiting for you so come closer. 

Changbin did, his armour clanking as he did. He was the only one who hadn’t stopped wearing it. “Have you packed everything?” 

No, since you don’t fit in my bag. 

Hyunjin turned and forced himself to look at his darling knight, even if it hurt. “I only need myself and my dragon.”  

Changbin immediately bowed his head as if they were no more to each other than the titles attached to their names. “Of course. Morghon will carry you well.”

“He always has.”

“And you’re leaving to King’s Landing.”

It was not a question, but Hyunjin still answered, “I am. Someone has to remind the fine, crownless kings of this land who rules over them now. I’ll probably spend a couple of months in King’s Landing before I’ll tour the kingdoms one by one.”

Changbin nodded because it was sensible, what Hyunjin was saying, and he’d always been a man of good sense. The only thing that gave away his true feelings was the tight, very tight grip he had on the pommel of his sword. 

“Will you come back to the North?”

Hyunjin unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Eventually. It’s probably going to take me a couple of years, but….” 

Hyunjin didn’t miss the way Changbin flinched at the second to last word, mouthing ‘years’ as if he had to reassure himself that he’d heard correctly.

“...Felix is here so there is not really a reason for me to come and assert my power.” 

Say that you are reason enough. Tell me to come back. For you, I would. 

Changbin turned to look across the lands, now covered in snow. “I’ve never ventured farther South than the Neck.” 

Would you like to? Would you come with me if I asked? Could you love me more than you love your king?

“You should try it some time.”

Changbin swallowed and then he shook his head. “My place is with my king.” 

Which was not Hyunjin. Chan had sworn fealty to him, but Changbin never had. He was only loyal to the wolf who’d raised him. 

“So it is.” 

Hyunjin was a ruler, a tyrant and conqueror. He was the rider of the mightiest dragon in the world. He was not someone who cried in front of others. Certainly not those who’d hurt him in the first place. He hadn’t given Changbin permission to do that. 

“The winds are turning,” he managed to say past the lump in his throat, the iron fist closing around his lungs. “So it is time for me to go. If you’ll excuse me…”

Changbin didn’t even turn his head to bid him farewell, the snow falling from the sky apparently more important to him than Hyunjin ever could be, so Hyunjin hurried to leave. 

Call me back. Call me back and let me kiss you again. Let me kiss you again so that you’ll know no king’s name but mine, because I’m already yours. Call me back. Call me back. Call me—

“Hyunjin!” 

Hyunjin whirled around faster than he should have. He knew he looked scary with his eyes wide open and a hint of dragonfire in his eyes, but Changbin didn’t shy away from him. He came closer and closer and in his hands he was holding—

Hyunjin swallowed as the heavy weight of Changbin’s cloak settled around his shoulders. There was no breath in his lungs to speak, no strength in his arms to lift them and hold onto it. He didn’t have to worry, though. Changbin was already closing the clasp for him. It was not a mistake. He wouldn’t have done that if he’d thought it was a mistake. 

Only when he met Hyunjin’s eyes did he falter, “You…because you might get cold.”

“Changbin…”

Strong, gentle fingers smoothed down the bear fur. Changbin’s eyes fell to his chest as he shook his head. “You shouldn’t be cold. Winter does not halt in the North. Soon enough, it’s going to reach King’s Landing too so you’ll need this. It’s going to keep you warm.” In my stead.  

Hyunjin heard the part Changbin didn’t say out loud all the same. He covered Changbin’s trembling fingers with his own. 

“Thank you.”

And then his prayers were heard. There was the gentle press of plush lips against his own. It lasted longer than it should have, but Hyunjin knew it wasn’t a confession. It was a goodbye. 

Changbin’s words confirmed it, and so did the sadness in his eyes as he took a step back, “Be well, Conqueror.”

It took too long for Hyunjin to be able to reply. Changbin was already gone by then. 

“You too, my darling knight.” 

Hyunjin simply stood there, high up on the castle wall where the snow could touch him. The winds were sharp enough to make the tears freeze right on his cheeks before he wiped them away. 

He wiped them away and started moving. He had to. There was an entire continent waiting on his orders. 

Morghon was already waiting for him when he reached the dragon field, tail whipping in agitation. He blew hot air over Hyunjin as soon as Hyunjin was close enough. 

Hyunjin forced himself to laugh and pat his snout. “It’s fine. I’m fine, old friend. What more do I need than you, mhm? Nothing!”

Morghon snuffed as if to say, Really? but he still lowered himself to the ground so Hyunjin could climb onto his back. 

Hyunjin’s frozen limbs didn’t cooperate as well as they should have or maybe he was simply shaking too much, but he’d spent a majority of his life on his dragon’s back so he could reach it just fine. 

It was all just fine. 

Morghon let out a mighty, earth-shaking roar before he lifted into the air. Hyunjin on his back clung to the saddle and did not look back. 

Only one dragon was to remain at Winterfell, and it was not his own. 

It was not him who was going to stay.

*

There was still a certain feeling of celebration in the air as Chan walked the halls of his castle. He could tell that it relieved his people, to know that the plight had passed. The Conqueror was gone. The North had survived. 

Everyone seemed to be willing to celebrate that except for one, “You’re being very quiet.” 

Changbin startled where he was walking in step with him. “Huh?” 

“You’re quiet.” Chan smiled. “Usually, you’d be talking my ear off about all the things we have to do to finally get the castle winter ready, but you haven’t said much ever since—” 

“I’m fine!” Changbin seemed shocked himself by how loud his voice came out. “I’m just…thinking of things.”   

Chan only found himself confirmed in his suspicions. He threw an arm around his friend’s shoulder, the both of them nodding at the guards they passed. “What things?”

Changbin shrugged, trying to squirm away. Chan knew that he was going to try to do that. It would have been easier to get a real bear to confess his feelings than his best friend. 

“It’s nothing important. What’s done is done anyways. Winter is here. We should focus on that.”

Chan loved his friend and so he did not let it go. “So it’s not a certain dragon rider you’ve been thinking about?” 

Changbin missed a step before he caught himself and when he did, he used that opportunity to step out from under Chan’s arm once and for all. “The only dragon rider I’m thinking of is your husband. We have to figure out how to make him most comfortable here.”

Chan hummed. “As much as I’m sure Felix appreciates the sentiment, he’s not who I was referring to.”

“Chan,” Changbin said and it came out raw. “Please.” 

Chan loved his friend and so he had to let it go. “I’m sorry, Bin.” He was more careful in his approach this time, as if dealing with a real disgruntled bear. Gently, he placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to overstep. It just pains me to see you so sad.” 

Changbin shrugged, helpless and honest. “It will pass. Hyunjin—” His throat closed around the name. “He is a king of kings. He will forget me soon enough.”

“And you? Will you forget about him?” 

The muscle beneath Chan’s hand rippled when Changbin squared his shoulders. “My king is alive and happy. That’s all I could ask of the gods.” 

Chan searched his friend’s eyes and found that Changbin wasn’t lying to him. “I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?”

“It’s been hard for you too. I led you into war and never even asked you how you felt about that.”

Changbin snorted. “What was there to feel about it? I swore an oath to you and this country. The North is my home and I will defend it until my last dying breath. It was never a question, Channie.”

Chan admired his friend. It sounded so easy, the way Changbin said it. 

“You know if you really wanted to leave—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Changbin outright growled at him. “I swore an oath to you. It dishonours me that you even think me to be capable of breaking it.”

Unlike any king ever should, Chan lowered his head. “No, I know, Bin, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s not speak of it anymore. There’s many other things to discuss.” 

There were still a lot Chan had to say, but he was going to grant Changbin his wish. His friend, his brother, had fought so much for him, Chan did not dare make him fight any more. 

“I was thinking of how to ration the grain supply,” he said just to offer Changbin the chance to switch topics. Changbin jumped on it and so they spoke of nothing else until they reached the throne room. 

Winter had come and the chill persisted here where there was too much open space and not enough fire to fill it. At least, that’s how it used to be. 

Chan felt nothing but warm as he watched the lone figure standing by the giant, circular window to the left of the throne. It offered a unique view of the surrounding lands, which had turned as grey and snowy as the rest of the North was. 

It was a beautiful sight, though. 

Chan left Changbin by the door to join his husband. “Are you enjoying the view?” 

Felix turned his head to smile at him. He looked adorable, all bundled up in Chan’s cloak with his cheeks red from the cold. “You can see everything from here! It’s my first winter so I didn’t know the snow would be everywhere like this!” 

“Your first snow?” 

Felix nodded. 

Chan moved to stand behind him, hooking his chin over Felix’s shoulder so they could look out the window together. “I’m happy to share it with you then.”

Felix leaned back against him. If Chan hadn’t known better, he’d almost thought that Felix was purring, he looked so content. “It’s very pretty.” 

“Almost as pretty as you.” 

Felix made a snorting type of noise, but the way he pressed himself even further back against Chan told him that he was pleased. It pleased Chan in return. He was about to lead Felix to his throne so they could sit when a terrible screech filled the air. 

At once, his heart stopped inside his chest. There was only one dragon left at Winterfell who could have produced such a sound. 

“Solar?” he asked Felix, but Felix didn’t look as affected as Chan had expected.

Felix shook his head, his head tilting as he raised his eyes towards the sky. 

The commotion started outside the doors. 

Changbin was with them at once, his sword held high as he put himself between them and the doors. They burst open a second later, several of Chan’s men falling through. The way they screamed told Chan they weren’t dead, at least. 

He cursed as he realised he’d left his own sword in his rooms and Felix never wore his. It was fine, though. Changbin was with them. 

The man that emerged from the tumble of his guards was not who he had expected to see. 

“Lēkia?” Felix asked. 

Hyunjin looked wild. His hair was in disarray, clearly windswept from flying, and his sword was in his hand. On top of the roof, Chan could hear Morghon roar, a giant, scaly black tail passing by the window they were standing in front of. Chan felt his heart sink to his knees. 

He hurried forward when Felix tried to do the same, pushing him back to stand behind Changbin. Chan knew Felix loved his brother, but Chan couldn’t be sure how much of Felix’s brother they were actually looking at at this moment. 

So he went forward, willing to defend his home like he always had done. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked Hyunjin, who wasn’t supposed to be here, certainly not looking as furious as he seemed to be. Chan had upheld his end of the treaty. He had bent the knee. He and Felix were married. There was no reason for Hyunjin to attack him. 

“Lēkia?” Felix asked again over Changbin’s shoulder, but Hyunjin ignored him. 

His sword was still very much pointed at Chan. “Give him to me!” 

It was only then that Chan felt something monstrous, wolf-shaped rise inside him. “No,” he snarled. “You gave him to me. He’s my husband, my other half by fire and blood. You cannot just take him back. He belongs to me now. He—”

Hyunjin was fast. Chan didn’t think he’d ever seen him move as fast in his life. Hyunjin lunged past him, but it was not Felix he made a grab at. 

Changbin’s sword fell to the ground. He was one of the best sword fighters Chan had ever known, but still Changbin’s sword fell to the ground when Hyunjin touched him, when Hyunjin curled his fingers into the collar of Changbin’s shirt and pulled him into his side. 

“Hyunjin,” Changbin whispered. 

“Lēkia!” Felix yelled. 

Still, Hyunjin only looked at Chan and he didn’t lower his sword. “Give him to me.” His hair was wild and his eyes were wild and at once, Chan realised that it wasn’t madness in Hyunjin’s eyes. It was desperation. “I’m changing the conditions of our agreement. I want Ser Changbin.” 

Changbin’s mouth fell open. Felix gasped. 

Chan raised his hands slowly, softened the blow of his words by keeping his tone gentle, “I cannot give him to you.” 

Outside, Morghon roared as Hyunjin raised his sword once more. Chan really did fear for the structural integrity of his castle at that moment. He wasn’t interested in the dragon biting a hole into his roof.  

“But,” he hurried to say, looking towards Changbin instead, “Changbin can leave with you if he so chooses.” 

All eyes turned towards the man in question, who looked paler than Chan had ever seen him. His eyes were glued to Hyunjin’s face. Hyunjin lowered his sword so he could turn to face him fully. His purple eyes looked incredibly large in the afternoon twilight. 

“Changbin?” he asked quietly. This was the man who had conquered an entire continent and yet he was trembling now.

Changbin only stared at him, as if he was questioning whether Hyunjin was an apparition. It seemed to pain Changbin to look away from him but he did it all the same. He looked over Hyunjin’s shoulder at Chan. 

“My loyalty is to my king...”

The noise Hyunjin made sounded a lot like he was getting stabbed. 

“...I-I swore an oath.” But the conviction in Changbin’s eyes was not the same as before. Chan saw it. 

He took a step forward, even if it made Hyunjin lift his sword at him again. 

“Then you must go,” he told Changbin, “because your king cannot bear to see you unhappy. I’ll free you from the oath you swore to me. Your duty has been more than fulfilled, brother. You can go.” Chan smiled. “If that’s what you really want, you can go.” 

Changbin faltered. “But—”

“Do you want to go?” Felix asked. He’d slowly but surely inched closer to Hyunjin, as if he was ready to catch his brother in case Changbin was going to say no. 

Hyunjin himself was deceptively quiet. It looked like he had forgotten how to draw a breath until Changbin looked at him again. 

“Changbin?” he asked, still so quiet, as if it was Changbin holding the sword and not him. 

Fear. Chan had never known his best friend to feel it, but he saw it in Changbin’s eyes now. How could Changbin not have been scared when he was about to change the entire course of his life?

“Hyunjin,” he said. It came out breathless, like a prayer, but it was Hyunjin’s name he said.

Hyunjin seemed to draw strength from that, and a renewed sense of hope. “Changbin,” he repeated, not asking this time. “I’ve come back for you.” 

Changbin nodded. There seemed to be words forming in his brain, but they got stuck in his throat. And then his gaze fell to the coat Hyunjin was wearing. Belatedly, Chan recognised it as Changbin’s own. Oh, he thought. 

“It’s your coat,” Hyunjin said.

Finally, Changbin spoke, his voice coming out raw, “Has it been keeping you warm?”

Hyunjin nodded. “Yes.” He smiled, shaky and bright and brave enough to say, “Yes, it has, but I-I’d still prefer your arms.” 

Changbin nodded again and if Chan hadn’t known better, he would have thought that Changbin’s eyes were teary too. “Is that really what you want?”

“More than anything. It’s why I came back for you. I couldn’t bear it—I cannot bear it to be where you are not so you have to come with me.” 

The corner of Changbin’s mouth twitched and Chan felt like the entire room was exhaling in relief. “Just like that?” 

“No.” Hyunjin shook his head and there were tears in his eyes, but he was also smiling. “Not just like that.”

Changbin nodded. He seemed to understand Hyunjin, even if Chan was struggling to do the same. This was not about him, though. This was about Changbin, and the choice he had to make. 

“Well,” Changbin said, taking a step closer, “I fear then I have to do what duty tells me to do.”

Hyunjin tilted his head in question. Now, it was him who looked scared. 

Changbin smiled. His fingers, which were strong enough to split wood apart, were nothing but gentle as he cupped Hyunjin’s jaw. Hyunjin’s breath hitched at the touch, and then he didn’t breathe at all anymore when Changbin kissed him. 

It was chaste, nothing more than a peck, but it seemed to be all that Hyunjin needed. He grabbed Changbin by the collar and pulled him back in, kissing him until they were both breathless. 

Chan busied himself counting the tiles on the floor until he reached the twenty-fifth, until everyone’s tongues were back in their corresponding mouths. He thought that it might never end, but luckily both Hyunjin and Changbin were human and so they did need to breathe. 

When he looked back up, he found that they were already looking at him. Felix stood behind them with his hands covering his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin said, his eyes flitting to the men still lying knocked unconscious on the threshold to the throne room. “I should have…knocked.”

Chan could no longer contain the grin tugging on the corners of his mouth. “It is my understanding that you were in quite the hurry.”

Hyunjin nodded. He pointed at Changbin, even though they were already joined by the hands. “I’m taking him with me.” 

“I understood that too.” 

“Hyung…” Changbin said, but whatever sentimental words of apology or goodbye he might have had for Chan, they were drowned out by a mighty roar, so powerful that it shook the walls of the castle. 

Chan wasn’t the only one who looked up at the ceiling. “I think you better leave before Morghon breaks through the roof.” 

“Wait,” Changbin said, “Now? But I don’t have anything with me.”

“I’ll give you everything,” Hyunjin hurried to say. The thought of Changbin moving just a single inch away from him seemed to genuinely terrify him. “You’ll never want for anything ever again. I’ll even give you a cloak of pure gold.” 

“That’s—” Another deafening roar shook the walls. “—good enough for me,” Changbin ended his sentence, closing his mouth with a click. 

Hyunjin kissed him again and then he pulled him towards the doors, towards his dragon who seemed very eager to eat them all should his rider not return to him soon. 

Chan didn’t mourn how quickly they left. He had no doubt that they would come to visit soon enough. Changbin hated any food that wasn’t from the North and Hyunjin loved his little brothers too much to stay away from them for too long. 

Chan walked over to Felix, who still stood where he was with his hands covering his eyes. 

“Is it over?” Felix asked when Chan uncovered his eyes for him.

“It is.” 

Felix nodded. “Did I dream that just now?”

“I fear not.”

“My brother stole your Changbin.” 

“He did.”

Felix blinked, tilting his head to the side. “Huh.”

“Don’t fret." Chan smiled. "I don’t think Changbin minded getting stolen.” 

“It’s…" Felix shook in head in disbelief. "I think it’s the first time my brother has truly taken something he wanted.” 

Chan raised a single eyebrow. “Apart from the entire continent?” 

“That doesn’t count. It’s not something he wanted. Changbin is the first thing he’s taken for himself.” 

Chan hummed. “Well, I don’t know the inner workings of your brother, but I do know Changbin very well. Now that he’s made a choice, he’s going to be with Hyunjin until the end. I think they’ll be very happy together.”

“As happy as we are?” Felix asked, full of hope. 

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” 

Felix grinned and Chan did too. How could he not, when he was looking at the man he loved? 

“Come with me,” he said, taking Felix’s hand so he could lead him over to his throne. As was his right, he sat down first before he pulled Felix onto his lap. The gasp Felix let out told him that Felix hadn’t expected this, but he adjusted quickly, throwing his arms around Chan’s neck. 

Chan let him wriggle around for a minute before he stilled him by grabbing onto his waist. “How do you like it?” 

“It’s quite comfortable.” 

“Very well. You should keep me company up here whenever you feel like it.” 

Felix hummed, melting into his embrace. Chan grabbed a strand of his hair and twirled it around his finger. Felix touched his face in return. It still seemed a marvel to him, that Chan was real. 

“Handsome wolf,” was his verdict. 

Chan smiled so the dimple Felix was poking at deepened. “And you’re the most beautiful of them all.”

He’d never get tired of the way such simple words were enough to make Felix blush. 

His husband squirmed on his lap. “I must say, everyone talked about how unbearable Northern winters are, but I quite like what has happened so far.”

“I’m glad. I’ll do all I can to keep it that way. Whatever you desire shall be yours.” 

“Yes?”

“Yes. I promised you, did I not? Now and forever.” 

Felix smiled. “Which is just long enough.” 

Chan hummed. “If we ask the gods, maybe they’ll grant us another lifetime.”

“Our souls are welded together by fire and blood. We’ll be together in every lifetime.”

“Which is just long enough,” Chan echoed.

Felix smiled and kissed him again. He didn’t stop kissing him until snow started falling from the sky, covering the world once more. Chan wasn’t worried about it. 

There was enough fire to keep them warm. 

*

Most of his peers at the Citadel had detested it, but Seungmin liked writing by candle light. He found that it was much easier to complete his records at night, when he could be sure that there was no one coming to disturb him. 

But, of course, every rule had exceptions. 

Seungmin knew who’d come even before the door to his quarters had fully opened. There was only one person whose arrival was announced by the click of paws over stone, by yips and growls and heavy panting. 

As always, the wolves entered first. The way Jeongin poked his head through the door after them was almost amusing. 

“Hyung,” he whispered, “what are you doing?”

Seungmin sighed and set his quill down. Nonetheless, he reached out his hand. “Come here. I’ll show you.” 

Jeongin nearly tripped over himself trying to get into the room. He hurried to climb onto the bench next to Seungmin, eagerly grabbing at the codex Seungmin had been writing in.

“Woah!” he exclaimed when he understood what he was looking at. His face lit up in a crooked grin. “It’s us!” 

“It is,” Seungmin confirmed, pushing the book a little closer to Jeongin so he could see better. “Can you find yourself?” 

Jeongin’s eyes flitted over the family tree drawn on the parchment before his thumb landed on himself. “Bang Jeongin,” he read out, beaming with pride before his finger moved horizontally to the left. “Bang Chan,” he sounded out, squinting to read the other monikers Seungmin had added, “the Burnt Wolf, Warden of the North and—how do you pronounce that?”

“Pur-vey-or.”

“—and Purveyor of Peace.”

“Very well read.”

“Thank you.” Jeongin preened before he frowned, thumbing at the parchment. “I don’t like the ‘burnt’ part, though. Do you really have to call him that?”

“It’s important to be truthful. The people gave him this name, so I have to make a record of it as such.” 

Jeongin kicked out his legs. “Can’t you lie a little?” 

“For you, maybe.” Seungmin reached out to squeeze his protégé's cheek, laughing when Jeongin swatted at him. “What would you like to be known as, mhm, Little Prince? I’ll write it right down.”

“Well, not that!” 

“Tell me then. A prince should be decisive.”

Jeongin thought it over for a moment before he pouted. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Seungmin quickly soothed him. He figured that now that Minho was gone, he was allowed to spoil their youngest a little bit. “You don’t have to know yet. There is plenty time for you to decide who you want to become.” 

“I think,” Jeongin wriggled in his seat, “I want to become someone brave like Channie-hyung. And strong like Changbin-hyung! Funny like Minho-hyung and kind like Felix and—and smart like you!”

“And you will be. If you want it to be, it will be. Such is the fate of those with royal blood in their veins.”

“Is that why you are writing about us?” 

“Of course. What better thing to write about than our family, mhm?” 

Jeongin smiled and his wolf rumbled with content. “I agree.” 

Seungmin let him colour the corner of the page in green ink as he put the last finishing touches on the page. His heart was light as he worked. 

It was the first year of winter, the wolves were at Winterfell and so was a dragon, who would eventually call to its brothers. Seungmin did not hesitate as he added ‘end of conquest, age of peace’ to the side of the page. 

This was how all great stories should end, after all. 

Notes:

fin.

thank you so so much for reading. as always, i'd love to hear what you think below!

more writing things on my twt

avy jorrāelan <3