Chapter Text
The War Room has always been off limits to Jaeyun, the fifth prince of the Eastern Kingdom. But it isn’t a lack of knowledge or skill that bars him from this sacred place of battle strategy, no. Rather, it is the overprotectiveness of four older brothers and their King Father.
Where his family is concerned, it is only right to protect him from the horrors of war because he is the youngest member of the family but then not only that. You see, Prince Jaeyun is also the dearest reminder of their Queen Mother who is no more, and that he resembles her not only in looks but also in heart makes Prince Jaeyun precious to their people: a symbol of the kingdom’s goodness and purity, one whose innocence must be kept safe at all possible costs.
With everyone around him feeling responsible over his preservation, understandably, the youngest prince grew up terribly sheltered from the true nature of the world. Everything he knows of are either from books or his studies, with the truth often romanticized by way of the arts or biased in its versions of history, if not cryptic and vague. Paired with his deprivation of the viciousness of reality, it’s not surprising that such an upbringing has caused Prince Jaeyun to develop a somewhat simplistic view of things. In a way, it almost borders foolishness.
Of course, no one has ever dared to tell the Royal Family such a thing and the Royal Counsel uses delicate words instead, giving the family reminders and warnings against continuously keeping the youngest in the dark as is their role. Through the years however, their wisdom has fallen upon deaf ears. That said, to this day, Prince Jaeyun carries a dangerous naïveté.
Funny though how what has been sowed will be reaped in the very place where the youngest is not even allowed in—not that any prohibition has ever stopped Prince Jaeyun from eavesdropping, one side of his face pressed against the heavy wooden door that separates the War Room from the rest of the palace, thinking he’s being careful and that his brothers are unaware when they in fact are and always have been.
Perhaps except one…
“He has promised to pay us back as long as our demands are within reason and the Beast is known to keep his word.”
“I care not! He will not set foot here. Before you and I know it, he may start asking more from our kingdom—and waging war against us once we begin saying no!”
“But they are hurt and we must help, if not because of fear, then out of the goodness of our hearts.”
“This shall also indebt the Beast to us; do you not think so? What say you?”
“If you still wish to refuse them, brother, then by all means march up the gates and tell him yourself when he arrives. I am sure yours is the face he will smash first once he returns to avenge his fallen warriors.”
“Not if I smash your face beforehand!”
“I am sure it will be a spectacle, this face-smashing competition that you speak of. But lest we stray, let me steer you back on course. I say this: we do not have much choice in the matter. We must help and provide for King Jongseong and his men—”
Now it’s of note that Jaeyun has never been outside the kingdom nor has he met anyone prominent save for the few who have visited the Royal Family over the years. Therefore, to hear a name so infamous that he has only ever read in books and heard about in stories, owned by a man he admires greatly no less…
“The Beast? The Beast wants us to help them?”
With a loud and wooden groan, the War Room’s doors open as Prince Jaeyun stumbles in with wide eyes, face alight with eagerness. This is the first time since he started listening in on meetings he shouldn’t have that he has willingly revealed himself and, in itself, the rest of his brothers should have been wary. However, none of them feels the strangeness of the situation. In their minds, they’ve always known such a thing will happen sooner or later with how long he’s been eavesdropping.
“King Jongseong of the North himself?”
Again, however, one brother is an exception.
“Jaeyun? What are you—” Jaeyun’s third eldest brother, Ilsung, is beside himself in shock and indignation at his sudden appearance. “Have you been listening in?! How long have you been standing out there?!”
Jaeyun pauses comically, a hand coming up to cover his mouth with a laugh as his gaze sweeps across the faces of everyone present. The Royal War Advisers are appalled at his presence themselves but, strangely, not the rest of his family with Ilsung’s exception.
“Ah well… hyung, you see…”
“You have the brain of a lizard, brother! He has been there the entire time and many other times in the past!”
The declaration from Jaeyun’s fourth eldest brother, Yeongchol, is paired with a roll of his eyes as he leans back more comfortably on his seat to place his hands behind his head.
“Everyone knows this. I cannot believe you never did! It is telling of how little you use your head.”
The astounded look on Ilsung’s face is hilarious and Jaeyun laughs louder this time as the rest of his brothers nod their heads. He’d always had an inkling that they’ve always been aware of his eavesdropping and simply never said a word but to discover that one of them hadn’t a single clue... approaching Ilsung, Jaeyun throws his arms around his third eldest brother’s waist in affection as he looks up at him.
“Worry not that you did not know, hyung! You are still my favorite brother!”
There’s a sigh from the head of the table just beside the sleeping king, a sound that draws everyone’s attention, the eldest brother and heir to the throne shaking his head with a smile.
“This is what you told me several nights ago, little brother,” the Crown Prince Byungho says, draping a hand on the armrest of his chair in a graceful swish of his robes. “Is it really I or Ilsung who you favor the most?”
But then Yeongchol is the one beside himself with emotion now, leaning forward on his chair and cutting off any replies from Jaeyun with a loud exclamation paired with his palms hitting the tabletop.
“But I am the favorite brother!”
“Pardon.”
There’s a cough on one corner of the table, Jaeyun’s second eldest brother Sanghun pointing a finger at himself with a small and timid smile.
“I believe that he has been lying to all of you this entire time for it is I who is his favorite.”
Unfortunately, an argument breaks out as to who Jaeyun’s true favorite is but as entertaining it is to watch his older brothers argue over who among them he likes the best, he intends to steer them back to the conversation at hand. It’s the main reason he’s here and has revealed himself after all; of utmost importance it is!
“You are all my favorite depending on what you bribe me with,” Jaeyun declares in a loud voice and speaking in a rush so as not to be interrupted. “But shall we go back to what you were speaking of? The Beast, King Jongseong of the North, is seeking our kingdom’s help. Why do we refuse to give it?”
The lightheartedness that the War Room has found itself engulfed in at Jaeyun’s arrival diminishes at the mention and a sigh comes from Ilsung who pulls himself out of Jaeyun’s embrace. Turning to their youngest and placing a firm hand on his shoulder, he gives it a squeeze as he leans forward.
“It is not as easy as a simple yes or no, little brother,” he starts with as he meets Jaeyun’s earnest eyes. “Either answer presents danger to the kingdom and our people. To let the Beast in or not is a matter that must be discussed thoroughly.”
Jaeyun blinks, glancing at the rest of his brothers who look torn over the issue but offer no comment. He knows who agrees and who doesn’t, all based on what he’s overheard and who spoke the words, but he’s unsure what the verdict is. Shaking his head, he pushes Ilsung’s hand away and gives his own two cents on the matter.
“But they have men who are hurt! It is our duty to help!”
Whatever else Jaeyun has to say gets cut off by someone who’s supposed to be asleep, turning a serious deliberation even more so than it already is.
“You only say that, my youngest, in your desire to see an idol. Is that not correct?”
Jaeyun’s mouth snaps shut at hearing his father speaking, small and bent on his chair beside Byungho who glances at the king and then at the young prince, too. The rest of his brothers, as do the Royal advisers, mimic the action.
“It is part of the reason, yes,” Jaeyun admits, turning away and hugging himself around the middle with his gaze focused on his feet. He looks, all of a sudden, self-conscious. “But even then, it is still true: that there are men who may be dying as we talk this over.”
The king hums, moving on and presenting a question to the next son, going over his children one by one and wanting to hear all that they have to say.
“And your opinion, Yeongchol?”
Yeongchol stares back at their father squarely as he replies.
“It is as I said earlier. We must help out of the goodness of our hearts.”
“But also fear?”
Yeongchol hesitates, dropping his own gaze briefly with a helpless shrug.
“Well... yes. Fear is good; it is also a cure for impulsive stupidity.”
“And Ilsung? You are heavily opposed to the idea and are not trying to hide it. Give me your reasons.”
Ilsung’s fists clench tightly as he steps forward.
“I am, father. They are barbarians who, the first chance they get, will use whatever weakness they find against us. We must be wary!”
“Say we become wary as you have said, what then? Whether the Northern King has ever asked for aid or not, do you think we have a chance at winning should the Beast wage battle against us at this moment, wary as we are?”
Ilsung’s anger falters the slightest, his fists unclenching slowly until all the tension seeps out of his body.
“I... no, father. We stand no chance at winning, not now or the foreseeable future.”
“Hmm. And you mentioned, Sanghun, that the Beast will pay us back. This is the argument you use. What could we need so much that only the King of the North can provide?”
Sanghun looks thoughtful for a moment before answering.
“The safety of the kingdom can be what we ask from the Beast. That he and his forces do not engage us in war for we have helped them in a time of great need and it is the least they can do.”
“And you think that saying no to giving them assistance today will put us on the Beast’s bad side?"
Sanghun nods his head.
“Yes, father. He may even use our refusal to instill anger in his warriors, tell them it is our fault, why their brothers-in-arms have died. Had we a choice, I would say refuse. But we do not.”
“You also mentioned Yeongchol, that helping them will indebt the Beast to us. How will that work for the kingdom?”
“It can go both ways, father. A debt may cause a potential enemy to either back down until the debt is repaid, or else turn them aggressive in their desire not to be bound by a favor evermore.”
The king turns to his heir after a brief pause, the eldest prince deep in thought.
“Byungho? No choice in the matter is what you said. What is your decision then, based not on your own thoughts but that of your brothers? I will not decide for you today.”
Ilsung growls.
“There is always a choice—”
Their father turns to him with a stern glare, raising a hand to prevent him from talking on.
“I did not give you permission to speak.”
The seconds drag by, Byungho’s head bent for a while before he finally looks up to address the room. Before he speaks however, his eyes meet Ilsung’s, and the third son has to bite his tongue in order not to lash out. By that alone, the rest of the room’s inhabitants already know what the decision is.
“Send a messenger and our best healers to King Jongseong. We are opening the gates for the warriors of the North.”
Raising a hand and all smiles, everyone else turns back to Jaeyun who’s vibrating with excitement. With bright eyes, he gestures at himself rather grandly, managing to look both pleading and endearing all at once.
“May I please head the planning of a Warrior’s Feast to welcome King Jongseong and his men?”
Ilsung huffs, rolling his eyes as he turns around, walking out of the War Room without another word. From the beginning, he’s been outnumbered four to one in favor of letting the North into their kingdom. He’s not happy about it but there’s nothing he can do.
Nodding and waving a hand graciously, Byungho smiles at the youngest prince.
“Go ahead, Jaeyun.”
“Thank you!”
Turning on his heels, Jaeyun rushes out of the room to the billowing of his crimson robes, nearly tripping over them in his haste.
“You are now my new favorite, Byungho-hyung!”
From a distance, Ilsung’s voice is loud when he joins a conversation he’s not even a part of any longer, and he makes Jaeyun laugh, the sound of it carrying over and easing everyone’s worried hearts for but a brief moment.
“I am the original favorite brother just so everyone knows!”
The Savage King of the North known as Jongseong is a level-headed young man by nature. Never does he lose his head even during a crisis. Seated calmly at the head of a temporary camp, he observes his foreign territory with keen eyes and sharp ears, watchful like he always is as he patiently waits for a decision he has no control over.
It’s humid and warm in the Eastern Kingdom, a contrast to the climate of the North where he and his men reside, and their fur-lined garb is of no use here. That and everything is an explosion of color and life, vastly different from the endless white that is ice and snow where he’s from: in this place, the plant life is bright green and bursts of vibrant red and dazzling yellow hiding all manners of noisy creatures big and small, insects and little animals that disappear as quickly as they make their appearance.
He knows that his scouts have chosen this place, teeming with activity, for a purpose: to know should everything fall silent that someone or something approaches. It’s a good strategy barring the fact that it’s unfortunately a flower-filled meadow of all places to put a fierce and unstoppable force. Had he not been deeply troubled by the grave injuries of his men, Jongseong would have laughed at the irony.
Blood amongst the blooms.
At the very least, no one has made any flower crowns as of yet. This is what the king thinks to himself, still stewing in anticipation as he waits for help that may not come. If any of his wounded soldiers start putting together one to put upon each other’s hair, then he will be forced to break down the gates that hide the Royal Family. Blooms are only given to the dead or the dying where the Northerners are concerned and, if he can help it, there will be none for any of them today. Should it come close to that however, and if Jongseong needs to raze this small kingdom to the ground for a healer or two, then so be it.
“Your highness.”
Glancing behind him at the appearance of his right-hand man and childhood friend, Sunghoon, Jongseong pushes strands of hair away from his face, retying his long mane of hair back quickly as he stands to receive a report. Sweat beads upon his brow as it does on Sunghoon’s; this temperature is unbearable and they will either need cooler shelter soon or else more water of which they have a limited supply. He only hopes Sunghoon is a bringer of good news though more so for the men.
“Shall we prepare to burn this place to ashes, Sunghoon? Have they said no?”
Truth be told, Jongseong’s expecting a refusal. After all, his name rings notorious among the lands as a vicious conqueror and no kingdom not allied with him wants anything to do with the North if they have a choice. It’s therefore a surprise when Sunghoon barks out a laugh.
“I do not think torching the place the healers from this kingdom call home will be beneficial to the warriors they are taking care of as we speak.”
Jongseong steps forward in a surprise of his own as he watches Sunghoon wave a hand behind him but not before holding out a hand as he glances at what he’s brought for him pointedly.
“I believe there is a message along with this... hospitality?”
“Oh.”
Sunghoon smiles sheepishly and hands a rolled piece of parchment over with both hands and a respectful bow.
“Yes, your highness. ‘Tis from the crown prince himself on behalf of their king.”
Uncoiling the rough and weathered paper, Jongseong reads through the letter, concluded by the seal of the house that will play as host for him and his soldiers.
Greetings, King Jongseong!
We welcome you with open arms and hearts for a peaceful stay at the House of the Wisteria. All needed care for your men, most especially the wounded, will be provided at your whim. Please let our guide lead you to our humble abode so all of you may rest your weary souls. The healers, along with a select few from the Royal Guard, will follow with the injured as soon as it is safe for your men to be moved. For the rest, an evening feast has been prepared in your honor. We shall be expecting you.
Truly,
Prince Byungho
Letting the parchment roll back on its own, Jongseong looks back at a waiting Sunghoon, handing the written message back to him for safe keeping with a sigh.
“Will you stay with our men? I want to meet the crown prince myself,” he asks after a while of silence to which his faithful friend laughs again but with a nod and another graceful bow.
“If you will it, then it shall be done your highness. I will watch over them for you and we will see you at the famed House of the Wisteria.”
Pausing from securing his sword on the left side of his hip, Jongseong raises a brow questioningly.
“Famed,” he repeats, a hint of dubiousness in his tone. Sunghoon’s smile becomes wider in turn, his excitement palpable as he responds.
“Yes. Our scholars boast the best duck recipes from them, not to mention they are one of the most gracious hosts in all of the realm. Their generosity will not be wanting or so I have been told.”
Unimpressed, Jongseong makes a sound of mild interest as he walks forward to meet with the head of the healers as well as speak with their appointed guide. Sunghoon follows behind and several steps back.
“Is that so? We shall see.”
And so they shall, while oft somewhere in the House of the Wisteria kitchen a little while later…
“Do you think forty roast ducks is enough for a fierce group of warriors?”
The head cook in charge of the evening’s unplanned feast blinks at Prince Jaeyun while the young man stands before him inquiringly, carrying a beautifully elaborate feather quill as tall as any of them, several pieces of parchment along with it. Glancing at the kitchen staff under his care, the cook finds they’re all turned away so he looks back at the littlest prince nervously and decides he’ll have to answer on his own.
“You... are asking me, my prince?”
He fiddles with the edges of his apron at the question. It’s rare that any of the royal sons come down to the kitchen with the exception of Prince Sanghun, bless his lack of skills when it comes to food preparation and his useless attempts at changing this fate. But does he try...
The youngest prince nods his head eagerly in response, smile cheerful.
“Of course! There is no else speaking with me, is there? You are the head cook and this is your expertise. So forty more ducks for a group of brave and brutal warriors?”
The cook laughs albeit faintly.
“My expertise is in cooking, your highness. But I can give an opinion, if I may: I have never met a Northerner but if they are more active and slightly bigger in stature than our people as they are rumored to be, then perhaps it is not a bad idea to add more duck roast.”
Prince Jaeyun hums, tapping the end of his quill on his chin and smearing dark ink on his skin as he looks up in thought. The cook doesn’t have the heart to point out the stain as much as he wants to.
“Hmm... very well, that is what we will do because yes, according to stories, they are taller and broader than the average easterner," Prince Jaeyun says as he turns away with a scribble on his parchment, murmuring to himself after. “Just to be on the safe side... now for drinks... soju is a must! Thank you, I shall check back on the food in a while!”
The cook watches the youngest go with an amused little smile, turning to the rest of his staff who have paused to do the same, all sounds of cutting and gutting being silenced for the meantime leaving only the boiling of water and soup.
“Well, you heard the prince! Forty more ducks on top of the first forty we are already roasting. Make sure someone is watching over the boars as they cook and set the innards aside, you know the princes love it when we add some to the porridge stew—we will have it for tomorrow morn’s breakfast! Hurry, everything must be ready by sunset!”
The cutting and gutting resumes as Prince Jaeyun disappears around a corner, the peacock feather quill towering over his head bobbing gracefully along. It’s as he takes a detour from the kitchen to the main yard in order to check if there’s already someone by the entrance to welcome the Beast and his warriors though that Jaeyun discovers two very important things that disrupt him from his planning.
One, none of his brothers or even an escort is there yet, and two, fur-garbed men upon horses are already waiting in a neat line by the very perimeter of the open entrance, the tallest and most regal-looking of them appearing stern as he stands a good few feet in front of the rest. Jaeyun nearly faints at the sight for even at a distance he knows from the paintings in his books that it is the Beast.
And they have kept him waiting!
“Oh no!”
Jaeyun panics in place, his peacock feather quill trembling in his hold. Where are his brothers or their King Father? Not even any of the Royal Counsel is present! How could this happen? Where’s the guide the crown prince sent and why has he or anyone else not announced the Beast’s arrival? Does this mean Jaeyun is to welcome them single-handedly, him, the youngest prince who has never had to do such a thing his entire life?
But... but he’s so shy and he’s not properly dressed to meet the Savage King of the North!
He makes a split-second decision as he gracefully but hurriedly approaches the waiting warriors and their Beast King, clutching onto his feather quill tightly in his nervousness. It has to be done by however with the absence of anyone else. And so Jaeyun, with stains of black ink upon his chin and throat, dressed only in his everyday robes, finally meets his idol.
It really is his hero from the books and the history he has learned, the Northern Beast King.
“I do not think leaving their appointed guide behind was ideal, your highness.”
Jongseong sniffs quietly in indignation as he stands by the open gates that lead to the House of the Wisteria, hands folded on his back with his men standing behind him. They’re all waiting and have been doing so for a while, their horses restless now that they’ve all dismounted. He can’t help but agree to the just-spoken statement judging from the lack of a welcoming party but he won’t do so aloud. He doesn’t regret his decision either. The kingdom’s guide had been too slow for his liking but leaving the snail-paced fellow behind has its consequences as proven at the moment since there’s no escort or any royalty present to greet Jongseong and his soldiers.
But are they supposed to wait where they are until someone comes along? He has the patience for it and so do his men, but how undignified!
“They have no sentry and their gates are wide open,” he points out instead, frowning at the empty courtyard and the magnificent garden beyond with nothing else to say. “Why is this so?”
“The kingdom is peaceful and prosperous, your highness, and poverty is not an issue. The Royal Family need not close their gates to the people or so I have read.”
“Perhaps ‘tis a test!”
Jongseong smirks as he listens to his warriors speculate, noting a glint far off and by the corner of one of the structures within. There it is, a single bird’s feather that is blue-green in color, glinting under the fading light. A peacock to welcome the North? Absurd.
“What sort of test? If we are disrespectful enough to barge in without an invitation?”
“Do not be a buffoon, we already have an invitation! Perhaps ‘tis a place where people help themselves, like self-service!”
“According to what I have read, this is not the case. Perhaps we should have allowed the guide to lead us.”
“Ah, so they do not yet know we are here.”
Rolling his eyes but keeping himself turned away from his men, Jongseong is supposed to say something but then the peacock feather reveals itself not as a bird but a young man in crimson robes instead.
It is a quill, Jongseong realizes. How huge it is!
Raising a hand to signal at his men, he barks out a single command that shushes his warriors immediately, all of them standing in attention when they see what he’s seeing.
“Silence.”
And they watch as the young man—but no, boy is a more fitting term—they watch as the boy approaches with his feather, an unsure smile on his face as he stops right before the king, having to look up at him slightly to be able to meet his gaze. And as he does so, whatever demand the Beast has bubbling up his throat stops at the sight of the beautiful eyes and the sincere smile. This, it’s a look of unmarred innocence.
Though not wholly. For some reason, the boy has ink on his chin and neck although overall beyond what the eyes can see, he doesn’t look marked.
Who in the heavens is he?
Jongseong’s breath catches in his throat as silence reigns, the Savage King speechless at such a sight. This boy is a walking work of art, unblemished and pure, and Jongseong is fascinated by him that he’s rendered incapable of words.
“Nice quill you got there! Is it real?”
One of the soldiers eventually break the tension with a compliment and a question and it snaps the boy out of whatever daze he’s in. It does the same to Jongseong who stiffens but before he can speak, the boy has already done so.
“It is from a dead peacock so yes, thank you! I have a spare but it is of a green shade. I can give it to you as a gift!”
The Beast has to stop himself from heaving an exasperated sigh. Fierce killers his warriors are but at the sight of an innocent face outside battle and they soften. He can’t blame them though. The North is harsh even on children and to see a person untarnished is a rarity.
“A dead peacock? You killed it for quills?”
The boy laughs and something in Jongseong melts into a puddle. He has no idea why he hasn’t said anything until now, still watching the boy as he interacts with the soldiers.
“It died on its own, sadly... t’was a friendly peacock and a gift from my brothers. I would not have had the heart to kill it. As a remembrance, I made quills of its tail feathers. ‘Tis a royal gift; I will bring it to you as soon as I am able!”
A royal gift? Jongseong’s mind goes on a stand still as he recalls what he knows of the House of the Wisteria. Their ruling king has five sons and he has met three of them. All have dark hair and tanned skin just like this very boy which means he is one of the princes. Coughing to put a halt to the ongoing impromptu conversation and drawing the boy’s attention back to him, Jongseong bows his head with a fist over his heart in greeting, deciding to introduce himself in hopes of getting the same in return.
He must know this boy’s name.
“Well met. I am Jongseong of the Northern Territory and these are my warriors. We are here for shelter and healing upon invitation of the crown prince.”
The boy gives an awkward bow, the action making his robes showcase an indecent amount of chest. And Jongseong doesn’t mean to look but his eyes stray down to what the garment reveals unintentionally.
“My name is Jaeyun, the fifth Prince of the House of the Wisteria.”
The prince is nervous again as he straightens, opening his arms in a regal but unpracticed manner.
“We welcome all of you, warriors and Beast King!”
Jongseong goes very still as does his soldiers behind him at the title just as an exclamation erupts from further down the courtyard.
“Jaeyun!”
Oh, now this man Jongseong has met. Prince Ilsung hurries over with an entourage, council members from the looks of their similar attire, their expressions wary. It seems like the conversation and Prince Jaeyun’s loud welcome carried over so that they have heard what the boy said.
No one has ever called him a Beast to his face and to say he’s surprised is an understatement.
“What did you call me, young prince?”
Jongseong has spoken in a dangerous voice, smile thin and fragile as he closes the distance between himself and Jaeyun until they’re almost touching. The fifth prince looks clueless, eyes wide as he stares back and repeats himself with just a bit of confusion.
“The... the Beast King?”
There’s a gasp from Ilsung and the circus he brought along, a murmured, “no my prince, no”, audible and loud enough for him to hear. Apparently, Jaeyun heard it himself because he tries again, realizing he’s making a mistake but obviously not knowing exactly what it is.
“Did I get the title wrong? What about Savage King of the North?”
Had it been any other day, any other face, any other prince, Jongseong would’ve drawn his sword. Blood would’ve spilled, royalty or not. But this Jaeyun is so... unadulterated in his dealings. The word pure comes to mind as it had earlier when Jongseong first glimpsed his face. How can he possibly hurt such a person? It’s unthinkable.
Throwing his head back and amused beyond belief, the Beast King laughs heartily, surprising not only Ilsung and the Royal Counsel but his warriors as well. He laughs for a good while, making everyone nervous, but he eventually stops, feeling the laughter remain upon his eyes because of how strongly he still feels it.
Looking back down at Jaeyun fondly, he notes the ink lining the soft neck and tanned chin one more time, bringing his thumb into his mouth. Using his saliva, he erases all traces of the stain from a baffled face, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. His warriors are amazed by all of it especially the barbaric act of cleaning the young prince off. It has a different meaning in the Northern Territory, mainly a claim.
Jongseong has just showed his warriors that Jaeyun is his.
“The Beast King is fine but only you can call me that.”
Jongseong then holds the prince’s hand with both of his after a thorough clean up, a bright and sincere smile on his lips.
“It is nice to meet you, Prince Jaeyun of the East.”