Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Wooyoung wasn’t one to complain about his circumstances. He didn’t see the point of it since there was absolutely nothing that he could do to change it and dwelling on things that he couldn’t change was just a waste of energy. Instead, Wooyoung strived to find happiness in the little things. 

He loved when the weather was nice and he got to tend to the garden, when the sun was shining and there was a nice breeze that kept him cool as he picked vegetables for dinner or weeds from the flowerbeds. He loved when he was sent into town on errands and Old Lady Cho would give him day old bread for free to snack on as he wandered the stalls. 

He kept those small feelings of happiness whenever life got difficult, whenever he was punished for not completing all of his chores in the allotted time his step-mother gave him or when his step-brother needed to let off steam and would use him as his punching bag or when his family would make sure to eat every last crumb from their dinner just to spite him and make him go hungry. 

When he was younger, Wooyoung used to dream of a fairy tale prince that would come save him from his miserable life but just like the last good shirt his mother had sewn for him before she died, he had grown out of that fantasy and had learned to plant his feet in reality and make the best of what little he had. 

Currently, Wooyoung was in town to place orders for his step-family’s formal wear. He would have been confused by their sudden need for poofy gowns and form-fitting suits had he not overheard his step-mother and step-sister talking about how the crown prince was opening up his harem once again with a gala. Everyone in the kingdom was invited regardless of class and so his step-mother was vying for one of her children to catch the prince’s attention and join the ranks of the royal elite. 

Personally, Wooyoung was hoping that her idiot children would make fools of themselves in front of the crown prince. He didn’t think of himself as a vindictive or spiteful person, but the thought of his life-long tormentors getting a reality check didn’t sound so horrible. If he was being realistic though, it was doubtful that his step-siblings would even be able to get close enough to the royal harem to make any sort of impression. The crown prince had opened his harem to the public three times in the last year and had yet to choose anyone new. The last time, he hadn’t even shown up, leaving the guests to mingle on their own for hours on end before everyone eventually gave up and went home. 

Some of the prince’s harem had been there, of course, relaxed on a raised dais and looking entirely unhappy to be there, if rumors were to be trusted. There was a rumor that the prince’s youngest Chosen had fallen ill and he had refused to leave his side, even if it meant losing out on finding another Chosen. Wooyoung thought that it was very romantic and, he hoped, that one day he’d have someone who would be as devoted to him as the crown prince was to his harem. He wasn’t foolish enough to allow those thoughts to gain too much friction, however. Wooyoung knew that no one would give a second thought to a servant boy. He was destined to be alone for the rest of his life— however short it ended up being. 

“Here to place an order, Wooyoung?” 

Wooyoung shook his head to clear it before nodding his head as he forced a bright smile to spread across his lips. “Yes, sir,” he chirped, digging out his step-mother’s list of specifications for her and her family and handing it to the elderly tailor. “Madam Yoon requests that her daughter’s dress has pearls inlaid in the skirt but she said she’ll settle for colored beads if you don’t have any in stock.”

The old man laughed, accepting the list from Wooyoung and looking it over. “What a picky mistress you have,” he croaked, setting the list on top of another stack of papers that were threatening to overflow off of the counter. “You can come pick them up in two weeks' time. But you tell Lady Yoon that it’s gonna cost her an extra hundred for the large order and an extra fifty for the pearls. I know she can afford it.” 

Wooyoung nodded, accepting the receipt that the old man scribbled out, not looking forward to handing it to his step-mother and the beating he was no doubt going to receive for the bill even though he had no control over what Mr. Kim charged. “Thank you, sir,” he said, pocketing the receipt before bowing and walking out of the shop. 

He made his way through the market square, the area packed with people, intent on visiting Old Lady Cho before he had to return home and continue his chores. It was more crowded than usual and Wooyoung frowned as he tried to weave through the throngs of shoppers bustling from one store to the next, though they all seemed to be centered around the jeweler’s storefront. He sighed, shaking his head at the frenzy that the announcement of the gala brought before continuing to Mrs. Cho.

The old woman greeted him with a wave, reaching out and snagging his hand in a tight grip in greeting. “Wooyoungie,” she sang, bringing his hand up to kiss the back of it before releasing him, much to the young man’s amusement. “My sweet boy, would you be able to help this old woman out for a few moments, my dear?”

Wooyoung nodded eagerly, stepping behind the counter. “Of course, grandmother,” he replied. “You know I’d do anything you asked of me.”

Old Lady Cho smiled, overly fond, and pointed to a stack of boxes sitting near the wall. “Would you put away that shipment? These old bones of mine are disagreeing with me something fierce this morning.”

“I’d be happy to,” he said, already opening the first box and unloading it onto the correct shelf. Behind him, he heard Mrs. Cho greet a customer but he didn’t pay them any mind as he continued to put away her delivery, knowing, realistically, that he didn’t have much time before he got into trouble with his step-family for taking too long in town. 

“Wooyoung-ah,” Mrs. Cho called. Wooyoung turned around, spotting two very attractive men with four royal guards behind them. “Could you get another loaf of bread from the back for these gentlemen for me, please.”

He nodded, bowing his head. “Yes, grandmother,” he replied, ducking into the kitchen as he pondered what two of the royal harem were doing in town this soon after the gala announcement. 

“Ah, you’re lucky to have such a polite grandson,” one of the men remarked, his voice traveling through the open door of the kitchen. 

“If only,” Old Lady Cho replied wistfully. “His mother was an apprentice under me. He’s a good boy, though. One of the kindest people you’ll ever meet.” 

Wooyoung felt a swell of fondness for the old woman as well as a pang of remorse at the reminder of his mother. It was a strange duality of emotions that had him feeling homesick for a time that was long since gone. “Here you go, sirs” he said, setting the wrapped loaf on the counter in front of the Chosen. He turned to Old Lady Cho, bowing his head. “I should be getting back before Madam Yoon gets upset.”

Mrs. Cho waved him off with a pinched expression Wooyoung knew wasn’t directed at him. “Yes, yes, go before that wretched woman bursts a blood vessel,” she said before pointing to a small basket sitting at the end of the counter. “And take some of yesterday’s bread, Wooyoung. You’re far too thin.”

He grinned, nodding his head as he bounced over to the basket and pulled out a large muffin. “Thank you, grandmother,” he sang, bowing once more to the room before ducking out of the door again. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

Wooyoung started to make his way out of the village, stopping to pick up a basket of apples from one stall his step-mother had ordered and his step-brother’s boots from the leather worker’s shop as he left. Before he got out of the village square, however, Wooyoung caught sight of the two Chosen men admiring the fruit stands. 

They were gorgeous— other-worldly beautiful— and he could see why the crown prince had chosen them. The shorter of the two was holding up an apple, smiling at the taller, when Wooyoung saw another person approaching. For a second, he didn’t think anything of it, everyone in town liked to test the limits of the law to see how close they could get to the royal harem before it was too close and their limbs were threatened, but then he saw the sharp glint of a knife at the strange man’s side, hidden to the royal guards by his hand, and then he was running before his brain could catch up with what he was doing. 

Wooyoung dove between the attacker and the pretty Chosen without a thought, grabbing onto the attractive man’s shoulders as the knife dug into the meat of his lower back. There was a moment, before the pain registered, where it felt like it was just Wooyoung and the Chosen looking into one another’s eyes and everything was calm. It didn’t last however, the last of Wooyoung’s adrenaline evaporating from his body as he started to sag to the ground, only being held up by the Chosen’s stiff arms gripping his hips. 

“What?” he breathed, eyes still wide in shock and terror as he stared down at Wooyoung, who was finding it increasingly more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. “Hey, no— what are you doing? Wooyoung, right? Wooyoung? What are you doing? You’re— oh my god... you’re bleeding—”

And suddenly the Chosen’s grip on Wooyoung tightened, tucking him against his chest more firmly as Wooyoung’s legs fully gave out. 

“Your highness, let me take this peasant—”

“I’ve got him,” the Chosen said shakily, tightening his grip. “What happened to the attacker?”

There was a pause and then the first voice timidly replied. “He got away, my lord. But we will find him. In the meantime, allow me to dispose of this one.”

Wooyoung frowned, breathing heavily through his mouth as he forced himself to get his feet under him again and stand on his own even though the Chosen’s grip on him never faltered. 

“Don’t,” another voice hissed, the shadow of an arm crossing in front of Wooyoung and the Chosen protectively. “He will not be punished.”

“It is the law, my lord,” the first voice, confused but also determined, replied.

The angry voice spoke again, acidic and yet so beautiful. “You will not touch him. He comes back to the castle with us and Hongjoong can decide. Though I can’t imagine he’ll punish the man who saved Yeosang. He might, however, punish the guard that failed to do so, so I encourage you to keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told.”

Wooyoung heard something that sounded like a muffled whimper before a hurried apology as he was lifted up off of the dirt— and when had he fallen down? Last he knew, Wooyoung had still been standing on his own, right? He gasped, fingers tangling in the stiff uniform of the royal guard when the movement made it feel like he was being stabbed all over again. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” the voice murmured softly from somewhere above his head. “Just breathe for me.”

Wooyoung moaned as he was laid down on something soft, his head jostling as it was lifted to rest on something even softer. A lap— some part of his brain told him— his head was in someone’s lap and there were fingers combing through his hair and pressure on his stomach and his back and he moaned, curling his face into the lap’s stomach. 

“Your name is Wooyoung, isn’t it?” the voice continued, undeterred as the fingers continued to comb through his hair. “That’s what the baker called you.”

He hummed breathily, trying to give the voice a shaky nod as the pressure sent a spike of pain through him. There was a hushed warning followed by a halfhearted apology before the pressure evened out and Wooyoung was able to breathe through the pain. There was the sound of a door opening, a rush of noise before a thump of someone entering and closing the door behind them, cutting off the noise once again. 

“What happened?” A new voice asked. “Wait— who’s that?”

“We got attacked,” the voice— the one that had been so angry with the guard but so kind whenever he spoke to Wooyoung— replied. “This boy jumped in front of a knife meant for Yeosang.”

The new voice swore, the sound of someone sitting down before suddenly everything was moving around them and Wooyoung moaned again, the jostling of the carriage sending pulses of pain throughout his body. The hand in his hair traveled down to the back of his neck, rubbing at his skin with a gentle thumb. 

“Treasure,” the new voice gasped. “You’re bleeding too.”

“It’s just a scratch,” the kind voice reassured. “The blade went all the way through him. It just nicked me.”

The new voice hummed in worry. “Hyung—”

“I’m really alright, Mingi-yah. don’t worry about me.”

“I’m always going to worry about you, hyung.”

The carriage jolted and Wooyoung gasped in pain, the sound trailing off into a whimper that brought the attention back to him. “You’re alright, Wooyoung-ah,” the kind voice— the one Wooyoung’s tired brain told him was probably the Chosen Yeosang— murmured. “Just breathe, that’s it, good boy.”

Wooyoung whined tiredly, pressing his face into what must have been Yeosang’s stomach. “‘m tired,” he groaned, feeling the way Yeosang’s hand shifted on his neck.

“You can’t sleep yet, sweetheart,” he cooed shakily. “You need to stay awake until we can get you to our doctors and get you patched up.”

“He’s losing a lot of blood, your highness,” the guard said wearily. “He might not make it.”

Yeosang growled. “Then, for your sake, you better hope you’re wrong,” he hissed. “Keep him alive, Choi. He saved my life when you failed— it’s the least you can do.”

There wasn’t much talking after that, at least, not that Wooyoung could make out. Everything felt a bit fuzzy around the edges and even the pain in his abdomen was starting to disappear. Logically, he knew that that wasn’t a good sign, that it was his body shutting down, but all he could think about was that he was grateful that it was him and not the gorgeous Chosen the knife had been meant for. The Chosen— Yeosang— had so much more to live for than Wooyoung and he was grateful the man would be able to go on living, with this as just a black smudge on many good days to hopefully come. 

Was that a little idealistic of Wooyoung? Absolutely. But he was still grateful that it was him instead, and now, at least, he could see his parents again. It was like he could almost see them, standing in front of him with their arms stretched out towards him, welcoming him home. 

God, did Wooyoung want to go home. 

“Oh, thank god— we’re here,” Yeosang exclaimed. 

And then Wooyoung was moving and the pain was coming back in waves and he couldn’t tell if he was up or down as his world shifted drastically, making him sick to his stomach— his parents were tugged harshly from his grasp as something was poured over his stab wound. It felt like ten thousand fire ants crawling around and stinging him relentlessly as suddenly he was stripped of his clothing and something sharp was tugging at the edges of his wound as he lost all sensation. 

Everything felt like too much and Wooyoung found himself unable to keep his eyes open any longer, embracing the welcoming arms of sleep as the world faded to black around him. 

The first thing Wooyoung noticed when he woke up was the pain pulsing through his body in a low thrum. He couldn’t help the moan that slipped past his lips once he was aware of his own body, kickstarting a flurry of noise that had him scrunching his face at the commotion. 

“Wooyoung,” a voice breathed out in relief. “You’re awake.” A hand found its way into Wooyoung’s hair and for a moment his brain went to how greasy his hair must have been by now and how he felt bad for whoever was putting their hands in his dirty hair. “You had us worried there for a bit, sweetheart,” the voice continued. “We nearly lost you.”

He hummed, unable to figure out how to form words quite yet as he forced himself to blink his eyes open. Right above him was the pretty Chosen he had dove in front of in the marketplace— Yeosang, if Wooyoung remembered correctly. 

“Hello, sweetie,” he cooed, smiling in relief as he continued the rhythmic petting of Wooyoung’s hair. 

“Ah, good, you’re awake,” another voice stated, startling the both of them as their heads turned in sync to the crown prince leaning against the bedpost near Wooyoung’s feet, his arms crossed over his chest and a severe expression on his face. “Who is your master?”

Yeosang nearly growled, eyes burning as he leaned over Wooyoung protectively. “I told you, hyung,” he hissed. “He’s just a servant boy. He saved me. This isn’t some nefarious plot— he nearly died.”

“And he’s a servant,” the prince continued, his expression only growing more angry from what Wooyoung could see. “He’s disposable to powerful men, Yeosang. Isn’t that right, boy?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, swallowing thickly. “I— I don’t mean any harm, your highness,” he stuttered, feeling his hands shaking from where they were gripping the silk sheets beneath him. “I just— I saw the knife and... reacted.”

The prince raised his eyebrow. “And you reacted by throwing yourself in front of the knife before it could reach my Chosen?”

He nodded shakily. “You— I’m disposable, right, your highness?” he replied nervously, praying that he said the right thing. 

It was very clear right away that that was not the right thing to say when the crown prince’s expression became pinched. He pushed himself off of the bedpost and stalked up the side of the bed until he was looming over Wooyoung. “Leave us, Yeosang,” he commanded. 

Yeosang opened his mouth to argue but one sharp look from the prince had him snapping his jaw shut and ducking out of the room without a word. The silence descended upon them, a thick suffocating blanket draped over Wooyoung as he swallowed around his anxiety. 

The prince leaned forward over Wooyoung and grabbed both of his shoulders in a bruising grip as he glared down at the servant. “Every word out of your mouth next will be truthful or I will ensure that your death is most excruciating. Is that understood?”

Wooyoung nodded his head shakily, feeling like his heart was seconds from beating out of his chest. He didn’t have any ill intentions when he saved Yeosang but he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to convince the prince of that. 

“Good. Now, who is your master?” 

“I work for Madam Yoon,” he responded nervously. “She is the owner of the vegetable market in the valley.”

The prince frowned in confusion. “And why would Yoon want my Chosen dead?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, shaking his head. “I don’t think she does, your highness? At least— I never— I never heard her say anything of the sort. She— she sent me into town to place an order with the tailor for her family’s gala attire. She was actually hoping that you would choose one of her children next.”

“The tailor is on the opposite side of the market square,” the prince growled. “Yeosang was attacked near the fruit stands. Why were you over there if your business was with the tailor?”

“Madam— Madam Yoon ordered apples— and Young Master Yoon needed his work boots to be picked up. And I— I went over to the bakery to help Lady Cho put away her delivery because she’s old and frail and she’s the— she’s the closest thing I have to family so I— I help her any chance I can. I didn’t know your Chosen would be at the bakery nor that he would be at the fruit stand and I didn’t know he was going to be attacked. I just— I saw the knife and I didn’t think I just— I just reacted because I didn’t want him to get hurt and—”

The prince raised his hand, the severe set of his jaw melting off of his face the longer Wooyoung rambled uncontrollably. “Have you ever been approached by someone outside of the family you serve for a job? Anything— no matter how small or innocuous the task may have seemed?”

Wooyoung shook his head frantically. “Madam Yoon doesn’t give me a— a lot of free time to pick up extra jobs,” he said. “The only time I do anything not ordered by the Yoon family is when I help Lady Cho with putting away her deliveries— but she doesn’t pay me for that!”

“So you just... saw someone go to attack my Chosen and stepped in front of the blade for what? Out of the goodness of your heart?” The prince asked in disbelief. “And you expect me to believe that? I told you not to lie to me, boy.”

“I’m not,” Wooyoung gasped, feeling a cascade of tears spill from his eyes as he tried to come up with something that would make the prince believe him. “I swear, I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions, I just— I saw someone in trouble and I... I reacted.” With those final words, Wooyoung gave up trying to stop the bubbling panic that was threatening to escape and allowed the sobs to break free from his lungs in heaving gasps. Every sob felt like he was being stabbed all over again but he couldn’t stop them from happening. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” a new voice declared from the other side of the room. Wooyoung startled, the motion pulling at his stab wound further as he watched through blurry eyes as a figure stood up from a couch on the far wall he hadn’t noticed when he’d first woken up. “I’ve heard everything I needed, Joong. No need to scare the poor boy anymore.”

The crown prince huffed, folding his arms across his chest. “I had to be sure,” he grumbled even as he perched himself on the edge of the mattress next to Wooyoung’s hip casually. “You know I’ll stop at nothing to keep my Chosens safe.”

“I do know that, my love,” the new man murmured, settling on the mattress on Wooyoung’s other side as he reached across the injured man to cup the crown prince’s cheek fondly before turning his gaze on the still sobbing servant boy below them. “Hush now, sweet boy. Hongjoong-ah didn’t mean to scare you. You’re alright now.” The man cupped Wooyoung’s cheeks, using his thumbs to brush away his tears as he cooed at the servant. “Take deep breaths, sweetheart, nice and slow, that’s it.”

With the help of the mystery man, Wooyoung was able to wrangle in his sobs until only every other breath was stuttery. “Thank you,” he gasped out as soon as he was able to catch his breath. 

“There’s no need for thanks, sweetie,” the man murmured. “Just catch your breath.” He turned to Hongjoong, voice turning stern. “Joongie, go fetch the doctor. Our guest appears to have pulled out his stitches.”

The crown prince nodded his head and pushed off of the bed, stepping out of the room without a backwards glance. “I’m sorry,” Wooyoung pleaded weakly once he was gone. “I swear— I’m not— not trying to cause trouble. I didn’t— I don’t mean any harm.”

The man hushed him softly, gently maneuvering himself and Wooyoung so that he was leaning against the headboard with Wooyoung’s head in his lap. “We know, little one. Just take some more deep breaths. We just had to be sure that you didn’t have any ulterior motives. As you might have guessed, we’re a bit overprotective when it comes to our Chosens. But I’m glad that someone like you was there to protect them when we couldn’t be.”

Wooyoung nodded weakly, his tears finally trickling to a stop as the door opened and Hongjoong reappeared with Yeosang and an unfamiliar elderly man trailing behind him. The second he could, Yeosang skirted around the crown prince and dropped to his knees next to the head of the bed and combed his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair. 

“You poor thing,” he murmured, scratching at Wooyoung’s scalp lightly. “God, you’re positively petrified. Hyungs—”

“We did what we had to do to ensure your safety,” Hongjoong stated firmly, cutting Yeosang off before he could continue. “Now that we know he means no harm, you’re welcome to stay with him until he’s well enough to return to his masters.”

Yeosang frowned, his eyes darting back to Wooyoung’s the second Hongjoong finished speaking. “Wooyoung-ah,” he whispered, staring intently at the servant. “Do your masters treat you well?”

Wooyoung swallowed and nodded his head shakily. “Of— of course, your highness,” he replied nervously, not sure what Yeosang was looking for.

From above him, Seonghwa released a soft hum, his fingers joining his Chosen’s in Wooyoung’s hair. “Now that’s the first lie you told,” he said, shocked even as his fingers began to scratch soothingly at Wooyoung’s scalp. “Perhaps we’ll have to buy you off of your masters and keep you here to ensure you’re properly taken care of.”

Hongjoong frowned from the end of the bed, folding his arms across his chest once again as he nodded to the doctor to begin treating Wooyoung. The doctor was silent as he raised Wooyoung’s shirt and undid his dressings before carefully sterilizing a needle and sewing his stab wound shut again. Wooyoung winced, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to breathe through the pain.

“Stop,” Hongjoong commanded, freezing everyone in their place at the sound of his voice. “What are you doing? I told you to treat this boy, not torture him. Give him something to numb the pain.”

The doctor’s brow furrowed but paused to dig around in his bag before pulling out a shot and injecting it into the meat of Wooyoung’s stomach without preamble. Wooyoung sucked in a pained breath through his teeth at the sudden stab of pain. Before the doctor could continue, however, Hongjoong marched over to him and grabbed a fistful of hair from the back of his scalp. 

“Treat him,” he growled slowly, eyes burning as he glared at the doctor who was now shaking where he stood. “Like he was one of my Chosen.”

“I’m— I’m sorry, your highness,” the doctor whimpered, moaning when Hongjoong finally released him. “I will— I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He picked up his tools again with shaking hands, prodding at Wooyoung’s stomach as he made sure that the lidocaine had set in properly. He fumbled with the needle as he tried to steady his hand enough to sew Wooyoung together again but was quickly stopped by Hongjoong, who forced him to let go as he dragged the doctor out of the room. 

“Get rid of him,” the prince growled, throwing the doctor out of Wooyoung’s view as he spoke to someone outside of the room. “And get me a competent doctor. Now.” Hongjoong slammed the door shut and stalked back over to the bed, fury radiating off of him in waves and making Wooyoung shiver. 

He hesitantly reached down and took hold of the needle still dangling from the thread embedded in his skin. “I can— I can just finish this myself,” he stuttered, reaching out to pinch the wound closed and continue what the doctor had started before Seonghwa and Hongjoong reached out for him at the same time and stopped him in his tracks. 

Hongjoong gently took the needle from his grip and laid it on a cloth that had been draped over his stomach next to the wound while Seonghwa took his other hand and brought it up to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “Another doctor will be here soon,” the prince reassured. “And I’ll make sure that this one knows how to treat our guests properly.”

Wooyoung blinked up at him nervously, swallowing down his fear. “It’s really— It’s okay, your majesty,” he replied, trying to sound confident. “I can do it myself. I’ve done it before. There’s no need to bother someone else with this. I’m— I’m the one that ripped them open in the first place.”

“Aish,” Yeosang swore, pushing himself up off of the floor and perching himself on the bed next to Wooyoung. “He’s— He’s being completely genuine. What the fuck—”

“Language,” Seonghwa chided, as he gazed down at Wooyoung with worried eyes. “We’ll wait for the doctor, Wooyoung-ah. And then once you’re all patched up, you can tell us all about how you’ve had to sew yourself up before. And your masters— the Yoons, right? I want to hear more about them.”

Wooyoung felt like he may have said too much, but every time he started to clam up or try to brush them off, Hongjoong was there with a gentle word of encouragement that had him spilling the truth before he could even realize what was happening. Everytime he spoke up though, Seonghwa would give the crown prince a stern look before continuing to comb through Wooyoung’s hair encouragingly. 

By the time the three royal harem members had exhausted their questions, Wooyoung was struggling to keep his eyes open. He wasn’t even sure what all he had told the men as Seonghwa started to sing, lulling him into sleep before he could even blink. 

The sun was glowing orange through the curtains when he was able to blink his heavy eyes open again. Seonghwa and Hongjoong were gone but Wooyoung’s head was still lying in someone’s lap. That lap ended up being Yeosang’s, he discovered, when he tilted his head back to peer up at him. 

The Chosen’s eyes were closed, head tilted back to rest against the headboard as a deep voice floated through the room. He could have sworn that he’d heard that voice before, but everything from the past few days had turned into a jumbled mess in his brain and he honestly wasn't sure of anything any more. The voice was soothing to listen to though, deep and slightly raspy— quite possibly due to the either early or late hour, Wooyoung wasn’t quite sure which— as it read an old folklore Wooyoung could vaguely recall his mother reading to him when he was young. 

“Ah,” the voice murmured, cutting himself off before he continued to the next chapter. “It looks like our guest is awake.”

Yeosang hummed, blinking his eyes open before turning his head down and smiling at Wooyoung. “Well, hello there, sleepyhead,” he cooed, petting a finger along each of Wooyoung’s eyebrows and the bridge of his nose. “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

Wooyoung shook his head on instinct before pausing at Yeosang’s pointed look, slowly nodding his head. 

“Good boy,” the older man cooed, helping to lift Wooyoung’s head slightly as a hand appeared out of nowhere holding two tiny white pills that Yeosang accepted and fed into Wooyoung’s mouth before following it with a straw that the hand was holding to a glass of water. He drank greedily, his throat parched, until Yeosang gently nudged the straw away from his lips. “Slowly, little flower,” he murmured. “If you go too fast, you’ll throw up and rip your stitches again.” He waited until Wooyoung nodded his head weakly in understanding before bringing the straw back in reach and allowing him to drink some more. 

“Thank you,” he rasped once Yeosang gently took the empty cup away from him. 

The Chosen smiled, brushing back Wooyoung’s bangs with his palm. “So polite,” he cooed, glancing up at the other man in the room. “Isn’t he such a polite little thing, Mingi-yah?”

The man with the deep voice— Mingi— smiled back at Yeosang, nodding his head indulgently. “Very polite, hyung,” he agreed. “Since he’s awake, I’m going to call for some food. He doesn’t look like he should be missing meals.”

Yeosang’s smile grew tight as he nodded his head in agreement, watching as Mingi ducked out of the room for a moment before coming back, though this time with another beautiful man in tow. 

“Look who I found lurking in the hallway,” he sang, a large arm slung over the smaller man’s shoulders as he pulled him into the room. 

The man was beautiful— ethereal even— with eyes that were smiling even more than his lips were. “Hello,” he greeted, bowing slightly as Yeosang helped prop Wooyoung’s head up better in his lap so that he could see the others who happily perched themselves at the end of his bed. “My name is San. And you are precious.”

Wooyoung felt his cheeks darken under San’s words, turning his face away from them and unintentionally burying it in Yeosang’s stomach. “Wooyoung,” Yeosang cooed, gently nudging him away from his body after a few moments of hiding while San and Mingi laughed behind their hands at how ‘cute’ he was. “Can you tell us how old you are? The hyungs forgot to ask that earlier and wanted to know.”

He swallowed, glancing between the three of them before his eyes settled on Yeosang’s soft gaze. “I’m twenty, your highness,” he replied, watching in fascination as all three men’s eyes widened in shock. 

“You’re just a baby,” San exclaimed, leaning forward slightly as he took in Wooyoung with new eyes. “You’re even younger than our Jjongie.”

“So young and yet you sacrificed yourself for a stranger so easily,” Mingi murmured, looking off into space as he trailed off in thought. 

Yeosang hummed sadly, playing with a lock of Wooyoung’s hair. “The old woman at the bakery,” he started softly. “She said your mother worked for her. What happened to her?”

Wooyoung swallowed, closing his eyes as he was filled with grief and longing. Above him, Yeosang released a pained, nearly inaudible whimper. “She... got sick,” he admitted. “And when she... when she— well... my dad remarried Madam Yoon.”

“Wait— your own father treats you as a slave?” Mingi interrupted, aghast. 

He shook his head, opening his eyes before trying to blink away his tears. He wasn’t very successful but none of the men said anything so he just ignored the way they slipped down his cheeks in fat rivulets. “He— there was an accident. A... year? —after he married Madam Yoon. And he— well... then it was just me and Madam Yoon.”

“Okay,” San said hesitantly, frowning as he looked over Wooyoung as if he were a rather confusing puzzle he was trying to solve. “I still don’t see how you became her servant though. If... if she married your father, that makes you her step-child. So when he died, she would have become your primary caregiver.”

Wooyoung nodded, the shame and embarrassment of what he had become burning hot through his veins. Yeosang hummed softly, almost as if he could feel Wooyoung’s discomfort, as he pet through the younger’s hair. “She was but— when she met Master Yoon, he refused to father a child that wasn’t his so...”

“So they disowned you,” Mingi finished for him, sounding as though he had rage bubbling just below the surface, ready to erupt out of him at the first wrong word. “Those despicable, disgraceful, lowlifes.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Yeosang murmured, smoothing his thumb down the bridge of Wooyoung’s nose. “The hyung’s will be furious when they hear.”

Wooyoung gulped, eyes widening. “I’m— I’m sorry, I—”

Before he could say anything more, San darted the rest of the way forward, cupping Wooyoung’s cheeks and kissing the tip of his nose. “You have nothing to apologize for, little flower,” he breathed, his thumbs stroking across Wooyoung’s skin as though he were petting the petals of an actual flower. “It’s those disgusting human beings that should have been taking care of you that should be sorry.”

“Wooyoung,” Yeosang called softly. “When— when did your father die?”

The young man closed his eyes, not wanting to see their reactions as he replied. “I was twelve.”

The reaction was nearly instantaneous after a deathly quiet moment. “Eight years?” San hissed, releasing Wooyoung as he lept off of the bed. Wooyoung could hear the telltale sound of the older man pacing across the hardwood.

“And you’re still so kind,” Yeosang marveled, staring down at Wooyoung in awe. 

Wooyoung shrugged halfheartedly. “My mother taught me that hatred and anger only breeds more hatred and anger— like a cancer— and... that the only way to fight it off was with love. So— that’s what I try to do. That's all I can do.”

“A baby with a heart of gold,” Seonghwa murmured, startling all four of them as he made his way into the room, Hongjoong and a few servants with trays full of food following after him. “That just fell into our laps. It’s almost as if it was fate.” He smiled and watched as the servants set the trays down on the coffee table in front of the sofa and left. “You said you were in town to place an order for the Yoons for the gala, correct?” he continued, turning to smile at San knowingly. 

Said man gasped, head whipping around to stare at Wooyoung as he froze in shock. “It was you,” he whispered. “You’re the reason— you have to be. That’s why...”

“And now we know,” Seonghwa finished for him, his smile never leaving his lips. 

Wooyoung frowned, feeling more confused than ever before. “I’m sorry, your majesty, but, um— what... do you know? If... I may ask?”

Seonghwa’s smile widened as he stepped up next to Wooyoung and helped Yeosang slowly lift him up until he was sitting with his back against Mingi’s chest, who had slid behind him the second the space had been freed up. “Why we announced the gala so soon after the last one,” he explained most unhelpfully. “Now— It’s far past time to get some food in you.”

The prince moved over to the table and grabbed a bowl of porridge before perching himself on the bed next to Wooyoung’s hip. Mingi’s arms came around his body, gently trapping his arms at his sides when he moved to take the bowl from Seonghwa. “Let us take care of you, flower,” he whispered in Wooyoung’s ear. “It’s been a long time since we could look after someone like this.”

Seonghwa hummed in agreement as he brought a spoonful of porridge up to Wooyoung’s lips and waited patiently for him to open them. Wooyoung did, hating how he could feel the red creeping up his neck with every bite he accepted from the prince. “Such a good boy,” Seonghwa cooed, combing his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair once he had eaten everything he could. “How would you feel about a bath, little one?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in surprise but nodded his head— it had been a long time since he took a real bath and he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity. This was the right answer when Seonghwa’s entire face lit up in happiness, handing the bowl to Yeosang who set it back on the table. Wooyoung noticed that no one else appeared to have wanted to eat when the servants came again and cleared the food away. 

“Wooyoung is only twenty, hyungs,” San said abruptly, smiling widely at the pair of princes as he leaned back against the couch in satisfaction. 

Hongjoong laughed, leaning his head back to rest against the bedpost as he smiled. “Ah, Jongho will be happy to hear that,” he murmured. “He’s always hated being the youngest.”

Wooyoung wasn’t sure what was going on. He felt like he was in over his head and had no clue where the surface was. Mingi was a solid line of unfamiliar warmth against his back as the older man kept him in a comforting embrace. Yeosang’s hand stretched out and threaded his fingers through Wooyoung’s before frowning.

“Wooyoung is confused, hyungs,” he said. “Can we explain everything to him?”

Hongjoong smiled and shook his head. “Not everything,” he replied. “It’s too soon and I’m still a bit weary.” He turned to face Wooyoung head on and shot the younger man a gentle smile. “All you need to know right now, Wooyoung, is that you’re safe here. Until we tell you otherwise, you’ll call us ‘hyung.’ From here on out, no matter what happens, you’ll be taken care of.”

Wooyoung frowned, feeling a migraine rearing its head. “I don’t think I understand,” he said hesitantly. “I’m just— I’m just a servant. I can’t— I can’t be so disrespectful towards you, your highness.”

Seonghwa cooed, reaching out and cupping the younger’s cheeks. “We’re your hyungs, Wooyoung. And you’re no longer a servant— you’re one of ours.”

“But I’m nothing special?” he replied, still feeling confused.

“Aish,” Yeosang huffed, frowning. “He really believes that.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, gently resting a hand on Wooyoung’s ankle. “Of course he does,” he said. “That’s all he’s known. You’ll need to teach him he’s special, treasure.”

Wooyoung’s frown deepened, unsure of how he felt about the royal harem talking about him as if he weren’t there but unsure if he could say that. 

“Come on, little love,” Seonghwa murmured, pulling Wooyoung’s attention back to him. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He reached out and helped Mingi lean Wooyoung forward enough so that he was resting against Seonghwa’s shoulder. It hit him at that moment that he was leaning on a prince . That he was surrounded by and touching the royal harem and he somehow still had his life.

It was a strict law that members of royalty were not to be touched unless given express permission and witnessed by two other members of royalty. By all means, Wooyoung should have lost more than just his hand by now. “I’m touching you,” he whimpered, immediately wanting to hit himself for bringing attention to his crimes. 

“Yes you are, little love,” Seonghwa cooed gently. “And you can touch us any time you’d like. You don’t need to be scared— not anymore. Can you take a deep breath for hyung? You’re panicking, sweetheart.”

Wooyoung did his best to do what he’d been told, feeling the way Seonghwa rubbed his back in soothing circles until his breathing was back under control. “Ah, I hope he didn’t pull out his stitches again,” San fretted, getting up from the couch to get a closer look at Wooyoung. 

“He’s alright, love,” Seonghwa reassured. “Go get the rest of our boys, would you? I think they’re all more than eager to meet Wooyoung.”

San nodded and bounded out the door without a backwards glance while Wooyoung tried to swallow the panic once again. There were more— of course, Wooyoung knew that there were more men in the crown prince’s harem but.... Why was he going to meet them all? 

Meanwhile, Seonghwa and Mingi gently helped Wooyoung ease his legs over the edge of the bed and got him sitting upright. He breathed through the pain, praying that he was doing a good enough job of keeping it out of his expression. 

“You’re doing so well, little love,” Seonghwa cooed, crouching down in front of Wooyoung and gently holding his shoulders up for him. “I know it hurts. Just a little longer, okay?” Wooyoung nodded, not sure what they were waiting for until the door opened and San returned with two other men who he hadn’t met yet. “Perfect— Jjongie, baby, would you help carry Wooyoung-ah to the bathroom so we can get him cleaned up?”

The shorter man nodded and made his way over to the three of them, replacing Seonghwa as he bent down in front of Wooyoung. “Wrap your arms around my neck,” he ordered, guiding Wooyoung by his wrists when he didn’t move fast enough for the muscular man. He carefully scooped Wooyoung up off of the bed, cradling him against his chest as he made his way to an adjoining bathroom. “Hyungs,” he said as Yeosang opened the door for him. “You didn’t need me— he’s light as a feather.”

Hongjoong sighed and nodded his head as he motioned for the man to set him down on the large marble counter top. “I feared that may be the case with everything Wooyoung told us yesterday,” he said, lifting the hem of Wooyoung’s shirt and carefully peeling it off without making Wooyoung have to lift his arms and aggravate his wound. “Yeah...” he continued, staring down at Wooyoung’s bare torso morosely. “We’ll have to monitor his food intake very closely for the next couple of months. It’s going to take a while to get him back to a healthy weight.”

Wooyoung frowned and looked down at himself. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and was rather confused by what the crown prince could be talking about. 

“You’re severely underweight, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa explained gently, hooking an arm around his waist as the man who had carried him into the bathroom carefully slipped the loose cotton pants off of his hips. “It’s one thing to hear about it but... it’s another to see it so directly.”

“Oh,” he murmured, ducking his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

Seonghwa sighed and kissed his hair, startling him, before helping Jongho wrap a plastic film over his bandages and lower him into the warm water. “Oh sweet boy, you have nothing to apologize for,” Seonghwa cooed, dipping a washcloth into the water before he began to painstakingly clean every inch of the younger’s skin. 

“I think introductions are in order,” Hongjoong declared. “I’m sure you know some of our names by now but it’ll be good for you to know more about us. I am Kim Hongjoong, next in line for the throne. I am twenty-seven years old and am betrothed to Seonghwa-hyung.” He gestured to said prince with a fond smile. “He’s twenty-eight, the third son of his monarch and one of the loves of my life.”

“I’m Choi San,” San chirped, leaning forwards to get a better view of Wooyoung despite the tight hold Mingi had on his waist to keep him in place. “And this is Mingi. We’re both twenty-four. I was Seonghwa-hyung’s personal bodyguard before he moved here for his engagement.”

“I had to leave Sannie behind,” Seonghwa explained, gently taking one of Wooyoung’s arms into his palm and lathering it with soap. “It felt so wrong being here without him after so long together that when Hongjoong opened his harem, I practically begged for him to invite San first. He did, of course, and we’ve been collecting our boys ever since.”

Hongjoong smiled, hopping up to sit on Wooyoung’s abandoned seat on the counter. “Jongho’s our youngest— he’s the one that carried you in here.”

San grinned toothily, hip-checking Jongho. “Wooyoung’s only twenty, Jjongie,” he sang mischievously. 

Jongho’s eyes widened as he turned to look at Wooyoung as though seeing the man in a whole new light. “You should call me ‘hyung,’” he said immediately, eyes shining in excitement. “No— you have to call me ‘hyung.’ Hongjoong-hyung, tell him to call me ‘hyung.’”

The prince laughed and shook his head fondly. “As you can see, Wooyoung,” he continued between chuckles. “Our baby bear is very excited to not be the youngest anymore. Next to him is Yunho, he was in the village with Mingi and Yeosang when you got hurt. He’s been a dear friend to me since we were kids and he joined us shortly after San.”

“And you’ve already met our Yeosang,” Seonghwa continued, picking up for Hongjoong as he gently tilted Wooyoung backwards into Jongho’s waiting arms who carefully held him above the surface of the water while the eldest prince meticulously washed his hair. “He’s been a gift since the moment we met him— wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

From the corner of his eye, Wooyoung caught Yeosang ducking his head and hiding it in Hongjoong’s lap who pet the back of his head lovingly. Wooyoung felt a momentary burst of envy as he watched them until Seonghwa moved in front of his vision again, soft eye-smile staring down at him as he gently put a hand over the younger’s eyes. 

“Eyes closed, love,” he cooed. “We don’t want you getting soap in them.”

He did as he was told, feeling the way Seonghwa’s long fingers carded through his hair as he poured warm water over his scalp. It was over sooner than Wooyoung would have liked and then he was being lifted up and out of the water by Jongho and wrapped in a large fluffy towel that was nicer than any clothes he had ever owned in his life. 

Jongho carried him back into the large bedroom and laid him down on the bed, swatting Wooyoung’s hands away when he tried to take over drying himself. “Let hyung take care of you,” Jongho scolded fondly as he continued to pat Wooyoung dry before taking the towel away and accepting the loose pair of pants San handed him and slid them up his legs and over his hips. “Good boy,” he cooed, petting Wooyoung’s hair once he was finished. “We’ll get a shirt on you once the doc changes your bandages. She should be here any second now.”

Almost as if summoned, there was a knock at the door before it opened and a small woman was bowing to the room. “You may enter,” Hongjoong said, motioning for the rest of his harem to back away from Wooyoung. 

The woman didn’t say a word as she approached Wooyoung and deftly changed his bandages before bowing and leaving as quickly as she had come. 

“Come, love, let's get you covered,” Seonghwa murmured, gently lifting Wooyoung’s upper half off of the bed as Yeosang helped him into a soft button-up that felt like clouds against his skin. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, rubbing the fabric between his fingertips reverently. 

Yeosang crawled up on the bed next to Wooyoung, gently thrusting his arm under Wooyoung’s head in place of his pillow as he got as close to the younger as he could. “Do you like the color, little flower?” he asked, trailing his finger down the bridge of Wooyoung’s nose. 

“Ah— yes?” he replied, looking down to see what color they had actually dressed him in. It was an emerald green top and it was very pretty, so he was happy that he didn’t unintentionally lie to the harem. “It’s... really soft.”

Yeosang smiled, dropping a feather light kiss to the top of Wooyoung’s head. “We’ll have to get you some of your own, then.”

“I don’t know,” San sang, draping himself across Yunho’s lap on the sofa. “I kinda like seeing him in our clothes.”

Yeosang hummed in agreement. “But imagine him in pink.”

San ooh’d, nodding his head. “Wooyoungie, do you like pink? What about lace?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in shock before shrugging his shoulders halfheartedly. “I don’t know, your majesty, I’m sorry.”

“Gah! That’s ‘hyung’ to you, little flower,” San chastised, only just barely being held back by Yunho’s arms before he could dive onto the bed. “No more of this ‘your highness’ crap from you.”

“Ah— Can I ask...why?” Wooyoung started hesitantly. “I don’t understand why you’re being so— so kind and familiar with me.”

Hongjoong sighed and pulled over an armchair, setting it down next to Wooyoung’s bedside and sitting himself in it while Seonghwa perched on the armrest, his arm slung over the backrest. “Our Sannie has a... knack,” he started. “And we’re not ones to question it when he tells us to do something because of it. He’s the one who said we should open our harem again with a gala and he’s the one who sent Yeosang, Mingi, and Yunho to your village for a day trip. And because of both of those things, you came into our lives. Which means we did both of those things in order to find you.”

“I know this doesn't make much sense right now, little love,” Seonghwa murmured, reaching out and threading their fingers together. “Just know that from here on out, we are your hyungs and we’re going to take care of you. Your old life is gone— you’re ours now.”

Wooyoung frowned but didn’t voice his confusion any further, not sure that their strange explanations would ease any of the uncertainty in his head. He didn’t understand how getting stabbed for a Chosen meant that he was... he wasn’t sure what he was now. Was he a servant for the harem now? And if he was, why was he in what was clearly a guest bedroom and not the servants’ rooms? And why were they touching him? And how did San and his ‘knack’ come into play? 

His head hurt with all of the questions swimming around inside.

“Yunho-hyung,” Yeosang murmured, startling Wooyoung back into the present as the quiet giant moved towards the bed. “Wooyoung-ah is tired. But I think he might need a helping hand.”

Yunho nodded, slipping onto the bed on Wooyoung’s other side and bracketing him between the two Chosens. He placed one hand on Wooyoung’s forehead, covering his eyes too with how large it was. “Sleep, little flower,” he murmured, his voice coming out syrupy slow. 

Almost immediately, Wooyoung felt his eyes slipping closed against his wishes, sleep falling over him like a warm, comforting blanket. 

Wooyoung spent the next week in bed, getting to know the royal harem and recovering from his stab wound. The doctor came in morning and night to change his bandages and make sure it wasn’t getting infected and servants came in multiple times a day to bring food for him to eat with whichever harem members were with him at the time. He didn’t see much of Hongjoong or Seonghwa during the day— both of them busy with other duties— but his hours were filled with the other five and the two eldest always joined them for dinner before spending their evenings getting to know Wooyoung better. 

He had slowly gotten used to calling the seven older men ‘hyung’ instead of ‘your majesty’ but he still stumbled over the honorific whenever there was anyone besides the seven in the room with him. He was getting better about it, however, especially since any time he called them ‘hyung’ they lit up like a Christmas tree— Jongho, especially. 

Jongho was two years older than Wooyoung but sometimes it felt like he was the younger of the two of them and other times it was as though he had decades on all of the harem combined. It was clear that, while he was happy that Wooyoung was here, he wasn’t quite ready to open up to him completely— not that Wooyoung blamed him, he was a stranger that had practically invaded their lives— that didn’t mean that Jongho didn’t fill the quiet moments with just the two of them, however.

He told him about how Hongjoong had nearly killed him when they had first met. 

“I was a soldier— an assassin for the kingdom of Pledis,” Jongho admitted one afternoon when it was just the two of them in Wooyoung’s room, the soft sound of birds accompanying his story from the open doors of the balcony. “I had been sent to infiltrate this castle and murder the heir to the throne before he could ascend.”

“Hongjoong-hyung?” Wooyoung breathed, staring at the elder in shock. “You were going to kill him?”

Jongho nodded, nuzzling his cheek against the top of Wooyoung’s head. “It was my duty,” he murmured. “But he caught me the second I entered his chambers. He, Seonghwa-hyung, San-hyung, and Yunho-hyung were waiting for me and ambushed me the second I stepped into their bedroom.”

“What did you do, hyung?” Wooyoung asked, staring wide-eyed at the older man. 

“I tried to run, of course,” he admitted. “But Hongjoong-hyung stopped me before I could even turn around.” Wooyoung pressed against him, listening to his story with rapt attention. “He and Seonghwa-hyung were ready to kill me then and there but San stopped them. They decided to... rehabilitate me. It was an experience to say the least,” he said with a laugh, closing his eyes as he got lost in the memories. “I was kept on a really short leash for a long time— especially since I tried to escape every chance I got.”

“What made you stay then?” Wooyoung asked curiously. “How did they convince you?”

Jongho laughed again. “They didn’t have to,” he murmured. “Pledis is a... very different kingdom than this one. And, seeing how the hyungs treated not only their servants but also their prisoners— me— made me realize how much... better it was here. And I started to question why I would ever want to leave this place for a home that would kill me if I returned without Hongjoong-hyung’s head. Don't get me wrong, this kingdom has its flaws just like any country— just look at what happened to you, for example— but it’s worlds better than the place I came from. So... I got comfortable here. I started getting more freedom and chose to spend it training with the soldiers, teaching them what I knew and learning techniques I hadn’t even realized existed. I also got closer with the hyungs. Yeosang-hyung had joined them by that time so I ended up bonding with all of them while helping with him.”

Wooyoung frowned, shifting as best he could in their current positions to look up at Jongho fully. “Help him?” he asked. “Why did hyung need help?”

The elder just laughed and ruffled Wooyoung’s hair before helping him to lie down. “That’s something you’ll have to ask our Sangie-hyung, petal,” he murmured. “But for now, I think it’s time to rest. You can barely keep your eyes open.”

And despite Wooyoung feeling wide awake, he fell asleep before Jongho had finished singing his first lullaby. 

Wooyoung woke up to the sound of voices. He was still exhausted and the warm light glowing behind his eyelids told him that it was probably late in the morning. He was confused— normally, when he woke up to voices, it was because one of the harem was trying to rouse him for breakfast. But these voices were clearly trying to keep it down and not wake him.

He was about to open his eyes to see who exactly the voices belonged to when he registered who was speaking. 

“But why?” That was Hongjoong and... was he whining? Wooyoung almost snorted out loud at hearing the crown prince whine so childishly. 

“It's too late to cancel the ball,” Seonghwa chided softly. It was very clear that he was trying to keep his voice low enough so as to not disturb Wooyoung from his place above his head. Wooyoung could feel the elder’s hand in his hair, gently massaging his scalp in a way that nearly made him purr in happiness. “There would be an uprising if we did. We’re just going to have to go through with it, Joong.”

Hongjoong huffed, Wooyoung feeling the way the elder dropped his cheek on the back of his hand, most likely blinking up at Seonghwa with pleading puppy-dog eyes. “But we don’t need it anymore,” he bemoaned. “We have Wooyoung now— we’re courting him. We don’t need to entertain the rest of the public for a night. All we’re doing is giving them false hope, after all.”

Wooyoung could practically feel Seonghwa roll his eyes as he sighed. “Yes, we do,” he scolded. “And Wooyoung needs to be there too. I’m turning this scouting gala into an introduction gala.”

“Are you sure?” Hongjoong asked breathlessly, sounding both excited and nervous. 

Seonghwa’s hand stilled in Wooyoung’s hair for a moment before starting up again, digging his fingers harder against the younger’s scalp and nearly sending him back to dreamland with his magic hands. He felt the prince shift to press a gentle kiss to his forehead and he immediately felt a swell of guilt at the knowledge that he was eavesdropping on them while they thought that he was asleep. He couldn’t, however, help himself from keeping up the facade, too invested in hearing what exactly they were talking about. 

“Positive,” Seonghwa murmured. “And so are you, Joong, don’t doubt your gut. The rest of the boys are too. I think, at this point, we’d be facing an uprising from our Chosens if we were to cast Wooyoung out.”

 “He’s wormed his way into our hearts pretty deeply, hasn’t he?” Hongjoong whispered, his hand coming down to wrap around Wooyoung’s wrist. “It’d be foolish to back out of this now, wouldn’t it?” Seonghwa hummed in agreement, his fingers scratching at Wooyoung’s scalp gently in a way that nearly pulled a moan from his lips. “And he’s lucky that we don’t talk about private matters where others are sleeping,” Hongjoong continued, a playful tilt to his words sending a spark of adrenaline through his veins.”Because otherwise, our little Wooyoungie would have heard something he shouldn’t have, isn’t that right, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung blinked his eyes open, ducking his head in guilt as Seonghwa gasped in surprise above him. “You’re awake?” he asked. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling the way Hongjoong tightened his grip on his wrist comfortingly. “I didn’t mean to I just— I heard my name and I—”

Hongjoong leaned forwards to press a kiss to Wooyoung’s forehead, cutting off his apologies. “You’re alright, little love,” he murmured. “But in the future, it’s not good practice to listen in to others’ conversations when you aren’t invited.”

He nodded, trying to blink away the tears forming in his eyes. “Yes, hyung,” he breathed. “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies,” the elder chided fondly. “How are you feeling? Do you think you’re up to going down for breakfast or would you rather stay and eat here?”

Wooyoung paused, taking a moment to inventory his body. “I think I can go down, hyung,” he said, trying to carefully extract himself from the princes’ holds so that he could attempt to stand. 

“Let me help, my love,” Seonghwa cooed, climbing off of the bed and carefully guiding Wooyoung off of the mattress. 

He groaned once he was standing, swaying on his feet slightly at the vertigo. Hongjoong was quick to wrap his arm around the younger’s waist from his other side, startling Wooyoung since he wasn’t exactly sure when the crown prince had rounded the bed. “Are you sure you’re alright to go down, little love?” he asked worriedly, the hand not holding Wooyoung’s waist coming up to thread through his hair. “The boys would be happy to come up with breakfast and eat in here with you again.”

Wooyoung shook his head, shooting Hongjoong a strained smile. “I need the change of scenery, hyung. And moving is good for the healing process, right?”

Seonghwa made a displeased sound but allowed Wooyoung to start his slow trek out into the hall, safely held up between their arms.

“So, what’s a welcoming gala?” he asked as they slowly descended the stairs, trying not to make it obvious how much it hurt to move. 

“It’s the first public appearance of a new harem member,” Hongjoong murmured. “You won’t be official, but it’s a declaration of intent. It means you’ll be hands-off to the public from then-on forward unless we publicly reject you— and I highly doubt that could ever happen.”

“You’d have to kill one of us for us to reject you like that,” Seonghwa added as he tightened his grip on Wooyoung. 

“I would never,” he breathed, staring at the pair in horror as he froze in his steps. 

Hongjoong smiled and turned so that he was standing in front of the younger and cupped his cheeks gently. “I know you wouldn’t, little love,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a light kiss to the tip of Wooyoung’s nose, causing the younger to blush. “But that’s one of the few reasons we’d possibly have to publicly reject you after we claim you.” 

Seonghwa pet back Wooyoung’s hair as Hongjoong stepped away and re-took his place on the younger’s other side. “Come on, love,” he murmured. “Let’s get you sitting down.”

By the time they reached their private dining hall, Wooyoung was near tears with how hard he was trying not to let on that he regretted coming down. It felt like his stomach had opened up again with how fiercely it was throbbing and every breath was a stab to the chest. 

“Wooyoung!” San exclaimed, bouncing up from his seat when the three of them entered. “You’re up!”

“Yes, he is,” Seonghwa murmured, gently guiding the younger man further into the room. “And now we realize that he shouldn’t be yet.” 

Mingi immediately opened his arms for them, helping Seonghwa guide Wooyoung down into his lap despite his weak protests. The second he was settled in Mingi’s lap, however, he melted, sighing in relief as he relaxed back against the larger man’s chest, knowing that he would keep him upright. Seonghwa settled next to him, cupping his cheeks as he examined Wooyoung’s face intensely before nodding sagely and settling back down into his own seat. 

“Mingi, baby,” he cooed. “You’ll carry our little love back up to his room once we’ve eaten, won’t you?”

The younger man nodded. “Of course, hyung,” he replied. “I’d be honored.”

From the other side of the table, Yunho and Jongho sported identical pouts. “What if I wanted to be the one to carry, Wooyoung?” Yunho whined playfully. 

“Then you can carry him down for dinner,” Hongjoong said, rolling his eyes fondly as their servants brought in breakfast. “And Jjongie can carry him back up since we all know how much he enjoys putting those muscles to good use.”

Jongho released a high pitched whine, ducking his head as the table erupted in laughter but never denied the prince’s fond accusation. 

Wooyoung enjoyed eating breakfast with the harem. The men were loud and chaotic and he wanted, more than anything, to join in, but his exhaustion prevented him and he found that all he could muster was a half-cocked smile and an occasional giggle as Seonghwa and Mingi took turns feeding him bites of eggs, and pancakes, and fruit, and twenty other things he didn’t even know the names of, though everything was delicious. 

By the time breakfast had ended, Wooyoung was unable to keep his eyes open, his head fully tucked against the crook of Mingi’s neck. The men were shifting around him and then he was being lifted gently and turned around so that he was koala-hugging Mingi with the taller man holding all of his weight as they must have made their way back upstairs. Wooyoung didn’t know for certain, however, since he was out before they hit the first corridor. 

He woke up just enough when Mingi was laying him down to latch onto the elder’s wrist. “Don’t leave,” he begged, half asleep as he held Mingi tighter. 

Mingi laughed quietly, pressing his lips to Wooyoung’s cheeks before shifting so that he was laying on the mattress instead of hovering over the younger one. “Alright, little flower,” he cooed. “I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay right by your side for as long as you want me to.”

Wooyoung smiled, feeling the way sleep was gripping fiercely at him once more. “Forever,” he mumbled, nosing into Mingi’s shoulder as he drifted off. 

When he woke up for the third time that morning, Mingi was still in bed with him, though Wooyoung had somehow gravitated to the elder’s chest. “Hi, hyung,” he snuffled, tilting his head up to see Mingi’s fond smile. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he cooed, carding his fingers through the younger’s hair. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” he hummed. “You’re really warm, hyung.”

Mingi laughed, the sound shaking Wooyoung’s head. “Thank you, little flower. How’s your stomach?”

Wooyoung shrugged halfheartedly. “It’s okay, hyung,” he murmured. “I think I just didn’t realize how far the dining room was.”

The elder pressed a kiss to Wooyoung’s forehead fondly. “This place is a lot to get used to,” he admitted softly. “It’s much larger than any place you’re familiar with, I’m sure.” Wooyoung hummed, ducking his head in embarrassment. “It was for me too. Don’t worry, little love, it’ll feel like home eventually.” 

He looked up at Mingi in shock. “You— where did you come from, hyung? If I— If I can ask, of course.”

Mingi smiled and wrapped both arms around Wooyoung, securing him to his chest as one hand started to gently run up and down the younger’s back. For some reason, Wooyoung felt like the action was more for Mingi’s benefit than his own. “I grew up in a little seaside village,” he started. “My parents owned a jewelry store that Hongjoong-hyung and Seonghwa-hyung liked to visit a lot whenever they were in town. Joong-hyung’s mother had come in all the time before him and so we had known each other since we were both kids. As I grew up and started taking more responsibility in the business, I got to know Hongjoong-hyung— and the others when they came along— better. They almost felt like out of town friends,” he admitted fondly. “I only got to see them every couple of months but I was like a puppy waiting for them at the door whenever I heard they were in town and I missed them like crazy the second they left.”

Wooyoung giggled at the visual. He could see the others comparing Mingi to an overgrown puppy and thought that it suited him quite well. 

“I never expected anything out of their visits,” he continued. “I was just happy to spend the time with them that I did. And then one day, Seonghwa-hyung asked me if I’d be interested in being one of their Chosens. I was... floored and I asked them to give me time to think about it. It was a big decision, you know? And I had my parents to think about— they were getting older and I knew that I couldn’t just leave them behind. I explained all of this when I asked Hyung for time and he told me to take as long as I needed and that they’d come back in a few months for another visit.”  

Mingi sighed, resting his cheek on the top of Wooyoung’s head. 

“My parents were against it at first. Not because they didn’t want me to leave but because they were afraid the change would be too drastic and I’d come to regret my decision. Our whole house could fit inside one of the bathrooms here, you know? And I had grown up with commoners’ seafood. Everything here is the complete opposite from everything I’d ever known.”

“Then what made you decide to come here then, hyung?” Wooyoung asked tentatively. 

Mingi sighed. “Bandits,” he whispered. “They came in the middle of the night. They... they killed my parents and left me to die. I thought for sure that I would bleed out next to my parents’ dead bodies but our neighbors heard the fight and came over to investigate. They tried to patch me up but— my injuries were severe. The town doctor didn’t expect me to last the week and then... then the hyungs showed up.” He laughed wetly, pressing his teary eyes into Wooyoung’s hair to hide them from the younger. “I was really out of it at the time, the infection was... bad— and when I saw Hongjoong-hyung I thought he was an angel here to take me away.” 

The two of them giggled softly. 

“It was quite a scary time for everyone,” Seonghwa piped in, startling both of them as they jerked their heads up to see the eldest making his way over to the bed elegantly. “We brought Mingi back here— to the palace,” he said, continuing on with Mingi’s story with a fond brush of his hand to Mingi’s cheek. “Even with the palace doctors, it was doubtful that he would pull through.”

“But I did,” Mingi reassured, letting go of Wooyoung with one hand to intertwine his fingers with Seonghwa’s. “You and the other hyungs nursed me back to health. I think, otherwise, I would have given up a long time ago— but you all gave me something to fight for.”

Seonghwa smiled, bringing their joined hands up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the younger’s knuckles. “And we’re grateful for you every day of our lives,” he murmured. “And that you chose to stay with us even after you had healed despite this world being so very different from the one you knew.”

Mingi chuckled. “I had nothing left for me back in the village. But I had six very important people right here.” He paused, glancing down at Wooyoung who was staring up at him with stars in his eyes. “Seven, now.”