Chapter Text
Joshua woke before the sun.
It wasn’t an abrupt waking — there was no jolt, no immediate confusion. It was like slowly emerging from a heavy, dense stupor that seemed to have stretched for days. His body was still hot, too sensitive, tired in a deep way that didn’t come only from physical exhaustion.
Four days.
He didn’t need to count. His body knew.
Still with his eyes closed, Joshua took a deep breath and let memory come before full awareness. Not like a dream — like a recollection too sharp to be ignored.
The corridor.
The silence.
The decision that didn’t pass through reason.
He remembered leaving his own room while his mind screamed no, and his body simply… kept going. He remembered the door, the lamp lit, the scent that pulled him like an invisible thread. He remembered the moment he stepped into that room knowing exactly who he would find there.
Seungcheol.
Joshua opened his eyes.
The faint light of dawn filtered through the curtains, drawing golden lines across the wide room. In front of him, with his back turned, Seungcheol was standing, wearing only loose linen trousers, adjusting something on the side table.
The broad back was marked.
Not with wounds — with hands.
With teeth.
With something Joshua immediately recognized as a direct consequence of himself.
He laughed.
It wasn’t a laugh of amusement.
Nor of shame.
It was a short, dry, almost incredulous laugh.
Seungcheol froze for a moment before turning slowly.
— Good morning. — he said, his voice rough, still heavy with sleep.
Joshua propped himself up on his elbows, now watching the alpha’s chest, his shoulders, the marks that were still there — too visible to be ignored.
— I hope I didn’t give you any trouble. — he said, in a tone too neutral for the situation.
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow slightly, his gaze dropping quickly before returning to Joshua’s face.
— You’re not much better. — he replied.
Joshua shrugged.
— I’ve had worse.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was… delimiting. As if both of them were, at the same time, measuring what had been lived and what should not be mistaken.
Joshua pushed back the sheets and got up without hurry, ignoring the nakedness and the lingering discomfort in his body. He walked to where his clothes were folded in a way too organized for someone who didn’t care.
Seungcheol watched in silence.
— This won’t happen again. — Joshua said, as he put on the light tunic. There was no accusation in his voice. Just certainty.
Seungcheol took a deep breath.
— Joshua—
— No. — he interrupted, calm. — I’m not apologizing. Or demanding anything. I’m just making it clear.
Joshua tied the belt of his clothing and turned to face him.
— If a pup comes from this… great. — he went on. — If not, it will come from another alpha.
The growl came low, almost imperceptible, but still present.
— We already talked about this. — Seungcheol said, his voice firm.
— We did. — Joshua agreed. — And I still don’t care.
Seungcheol’s gaze darkened for an instant.
— You act like nothing that happened here has weight. — he said.
Joshua tilted his head, thoughtful.
— It has weight. — he replied. — It just doesn’t have possession.
Seungcheol clenched his jaw.
— You can’t just—
— I can. — Joshua interrupted, without raising his tone. — And I will.
He walked to the door, stopping only for an instant, his hand resting on the polished wood.
— This doesn’t make us a couple. — he said. — It doesn’t change the agreement. It doesn’t change what we are politically.
Seungcheol stayed silent.
— It was only an answer to a heat. — Joshua concluded. — Nothing more.
He opened the door.
Before leaving, he cast one last look at the room — at the marks, at the morning light, at the king standing there with more questions than answers.
— Don’t follow me. — he said. — Not today.
And he left.
The corridor was silent at that hour.
Joshua walked with steady steps, even though his body still complained in gentle waves. The heat was finally beginning to dissipate, leaving behind a controlled emptiness.
Behind the closed door, Seungcheol remained still for long minutes. The marks on his skin burned lightly — not with pain, but with memory.
Joshua had gone away as he had promised.
And, for the first time since the marriage, Seungcheol realized something too uncomfortable to ignore: what had happened there hadn’t been only instinct.
But Joshua refused — with all his strength — to allow it to be more than that.
And that refusal… hurt more than the heat ever could.
🏰🐺
Joshua was finishing adjusting the collar when the knocks sounded at the door.
They weren’t rushed. Nor timid. They were firm, measured — like everything in the castle when someone didn’t want to seem invasive, but also didn’t accept being ignored.
He took a deep breath before answering.
— Come in.
The door opened only enough for Soonyoung to appear, his body taking up half the doorway as usual. The beta made a brief bow, his eyes passing quickly over Joshua’s appearance — too put-together for someone still carrying recent fatigue.
— Your Grace. — he said. — The king is at the door.
Joshua furrowed his brow slightly.
— The king? — he repeated. — Now?
Soonyoung nodded.
— He said it isn’t a request.
Joshua sighed softly.
— Of course it isn’t.
He made a gesture with his hand, dismissing the mirror. He was still dressed soberly, appropriate for a formal dinner, but there was something different that night — not in the clothes, but in the posture. He seemed more present in his own body, less inclined to disappear into the role of convenient consort.
— You can let him in. — he said.
Soonyoung opened the door fully and stepped aside, staying close enough to hear, far enough not to interfere.
Seungcheol entered.
He wasn’t wearing armor. Nor exaggerated ceremonial clothes. He wore formal but simple dark clothing, and his face carried an expression Joshua was still learning to recognize — it wasn’t coldness, nor pure authority.
It was intent.
— It seems important. — Joshua remarked, without turning.
— You left early. — Seungcheol replied, closing the door behind him.
Silence settled between them for a few seconds, dense, but not hostile.
Joshua finished adjusting his sleeve and then turned.
— If you came to talk about what happened… — he began.
— I didn’t. — Seungcheol interrupted. — This isn’t about yesterday. Or about four days ago.
Joshua lifted an eyebrow, skeptical.
— Then what is it about?
Seungcheol took a step forward.
— The dinner. — he said. — We’re going together.
The sentence hung in the air.
Joshua blinked once.
— We didn’t arrange that. — he replied.
— No. — Seungcheol agreed. — But we arranged conditions.
Joshua crossed his arms slowly.
— And in what part of my conditions does it say I must accompany you to social events?
— It doesn’t. — Seungcheol said. — But in your conditions, you demanded to be recognized as king consort. Publicly.
Joshua held his gaze.
— Recognition isn’t a parade.
— Sometimes it is. — Seungcheol replied. — Especially for someone who spent months pretending you didn’t exist.
The comment hit deeper than Joshua wanted.
— I didn’t impose that. — he said, after a moment. — I didn’t demand you show up with me.
— No. — Seungcheol agreed. — But I’m demanding it now.
Joshua gave a short laugh.
— You’re demanding? — he repeated. — I thought we’d settled the matter of tone.
— It’s not an alpha tone. — Seungcheol replied, firm. — It’s an agreement. You want your conditions respected. I also have mine.
Joshua tilted his head, assessing.
— Say it.
— In public, we are aligned. — Seungcheol said. — Not romantic. Not intimate. But united. The North needs to see that.
Joshua thought for a few seconds.
— And what do you gain from that? — he asked.
Seungcheol didn’t look away.
— Stability. — he replied. — And the end of the speculation.
Joshua took a deep breath, his gaze sliding for an instant to the window, as if looking for air.
— They’ll look. — he said. — They’ll compare. They’ll comment.
— Let them. — Seungcheol replied. — They comment anyway.
Joshua let out a slow sigh.
— You’re using this as an answer to what happened. — he said.
— No. — Seungcheol replied. — I’m using it as a continuation of what you demanded.
Joshua looked back at him.
— I didn’t ask for closeness.
— You asked for visibility. — Seungcheol corrected. — And I’m giving it.
Silence returned, but this time weighted with calculation.
Soonyoung cleared his throat discreetly outside, reminding them of time.
Joshua uncrossed his arms.
— Very well. — he said. — We’re going together.
Seungcheol nodded once.
— Good.
Joshua took a step toward the door, but stopped.
— Just to be clear. — he said, without turning. — This changes nothing between us.
— I know. — Seungcheol replied. — But it changes everything outside it.
Joshua opened the door.
The corridor seemed more attentive than usual. Servants bowed their heads, guards straightened their posture. The simple fact of both of them being there, side by side, created a visible tension, almost palpable.
Soonyoung followed a few steps behind, attentive, silent.
As they walked toward the hall where dinner would take place, Joshua felt something curious.
Not comfort.
Not safety.
But… space.
For the first time, it didn’t feel like he needed to shorten his stride to fit beside the king.
Seungcheol kept the exact distance — he didn’t touch, didn’t invade, but he also didn’t move away like before. It was controlled, conscious proximity, almost too political to be called natural.
— Don’t try to protect me from looks. — Joshua said softly as they walked.
— It’s not protection. — Seungcheol replied, in the same tone. — It’s positioning.
Joshua nodded.
When the doors of the hall began to open in the distance, the internal murmur could already be heard. Laughter, glasses, conversations interrupted by the expectation of the event. Joshua squared his shoulders.
— If we’re going to do this… — he murmured — we’ll do it right.
Seungcheol shot him a quick look.
— We always do. — he replied.
And, together, they crossed the doors, not as lovers, not as strangers — but as two kings who had decided, at last, to occupy the same space.
The hall didn’t know yet.
But it was about to realize.
🏰🐺
The hall fell silent for half a second longer than normal.
It wasn’t immediate. First there was the typical murmur — laughter, overlapping conversations, the clink of glasses. Then, like a poorly concealed wave, eyes began to turn toward the entrance.
Seungcheol and Joshua crossed the doors side by side.
There were no hands held.
There were no intimate gestures.
But there wasn’t overly calculated distance, either.
And that, by itself, was already a rupture.
Joshua felt the stares like small blades — curiosity, surprise, quick assessment. Some nobles straightened; others inclined their heads with belated respect. There were those who froze with their glass suspended in the air.
— They came together…
— The consort…
— Since when—
Joshua kept his gaze forward, his steps steady. The outfit he wore wasn’t excessive, but there was something about it that drew attention — not luxury, but presence. He didn’t look like someone being displayed. He looked like someone who had chosen to be there.
Seungcheol walked at his side with a king’s posture, but without the distance of before. He didn’t ignore him. He didn’t place him behind. Nor did he pull him closer.
It was alignment.
The host of the dinner hurried to approach, visibly nervous.
— Your Majesty. Your Grace. — he said, with a bow too deep to be natural. — It is an honor to receive you.
— The honor is ours. — Seungcheol replied, formal.
Joshua nodded in silence.
They were led to the main table. The movement was watched with almost excessive attention. Joshua noticed how the seats had been rearranged — not beside Hyeom, not in a secondary position.
Beside the king.
A small detail.
But calculated.
Joshua sat down without hesitation, adjusting his posture naturally. For an instant, he felt the weight of months being rewritten there, under candlelight and attentive eyes.
— Wine? — a servant asked.
— Yes. — Joshua replied before Seungcheol could even open his mouth.
The servant blinked, surprised, but obeyed. Some nobles exchanged quick looks.
— The consort seems… different. — someone murmured further back.
— Firmer.
— Has he always been like that?
Joshua heard. He didn’t react.
Conversations began to form around the table. Trivial topics — harvest, trade routes, future alliances. Joshua participated when he found it pertinent. He didn’t dominate the conversation. He didn’t fall silent.
Balance.
— Your Grace has been quite present in the villages. — an older noble commented, with a studied smile. — The people speak a lot.
Joshua met his gaze without hurry.
— I’m glad to hear it. — he replied. — They deserve attention.
— Some say that isn’t a consort’s role. — the man ventured.
Joshua set his glass down on the table calmly.
— Then perhaps it’s time to rethink what we expect from a consort. — he said, simply.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was reflective.
Seungcheol watched from the corner of his eye. He didn’t interfere. He didn’t correct. He only let Joshua occupy the space.
And that didn’t go unnoticed.
Hyeom was present that night. Joshua felt his gaze before even looking for him. The omega was a few seats ahead, elegant as always, his smile too contained to be natural. There was no open hostility — only a fine, stretched tension.
Their eyes met for a second. Joshua didn’t look away.
Hyeom was the first to do so.
— Your Grace. — a younger noblewoman said, leaning slightly toward Joshua. — I heard the school will be rebuilt.
— It’s already underway. — Joshua replied. — With official protection.
— Official? — the woman repeated, surprised.
— Yes. — Seungcheol intervened for the first time. — By order of the throne.
The impact was immediate.
Heads turned. Murmurs rose. Joshua kept his expression neutral, but something inside him settled with unexpected firmness.
— I’m glad. — the noblewoman said, sincerely. — Many mothers commented on how much that meant.
— It means more than it appears. — Joshua replied.
Dinner went on.
And as time passed, the initial strangeness gave way to something else — cautious acceptance. There was no romanticizing between the king and the consort. There were no gestures of affection.
But there was visible respect.
When they rose to end the night, Joshua noticed something curious: no one seemed too surprised when Seungcheol waited for him to stand first.
A small gesture.
But symbolic.
As they left the hall, the murmurs were different from before.
— They seem… aligned.
— It’s not an act.
— Maybe the North has changed.
Joshua took a deep breath as he crossed the palace corridors again.
He didn’t feel comfortable.
But he felt… whole.
At his side, Seungcheol kept pace.
— You were clear. — he said softly. — They heard you.
— They didn’t hear everything. — Joshua replied. — But they heard enough.
They stopped at the fork in the corridors.
— This doesn’t change what happened. — Joshua added.
— I know. — Seungcheol replied.
Joshua nodded.
— Good night, then. — he said.
— Good night. — Seungcheol replied.
Joshua went down the opposite corridor, his steps firm.
Behind him, the palace murmured.
And, for the first time, it wasn’t about a consort’s shadow — but about the real presence of a king who had decided not to disappear.
🏰🐺
The smell of freshly cut wood mixed with damp earth when Joshua reached the village.
The place still carried traces of the fire — charred walls that had been torn down, ground churned by the first attempts at rebuilding, air soaked with memory. But there was something different there now. Movement. Too many people for it to be mere curiosity.
Joshua dismounted with care, feeling his body still tired, yet lighter than it had been for days. Soonyoung came right behind, attentive as always, his eyes sweeping the space before softening as he recognized familiar faces.
— They started early. — the beta said, observing.
Joshua nodded.
Men and women worked together, some sawing planks, others carrying stones, children sitting in small groups drawing with charcoal on the ground — improvising class even without walls.
As they noticed his presence, movements began to slow, until someone recognized him for real.
— It’s him. — a woman murmured.
— Joshua… — another said, louder.
The silence that formed wasn’t tense. It was expectant.
Joshua took a deep breath before stepping forward.
— Good morning. — he said, simple.
He didn’t use a title. He never did there.
One of the mothers approached first, her face marked by exhaustion, but her eyes firm.
— They said the money would come. — she said. — That it wasn’t an empty promise.
Joshua nodded.
— It already came. — he replied. — And more will come. The school will be rebuilt better than before. With protection. Official.
The murmur that ran through the group was different from the previous ones. It wasn’t doubt. It was relief.
— Official? — a man asked, incredulous.
— Yes. — Joshua confirmed. — It won’t be something they can destroy without consequences.
Soonyoung stepped forward, handing a sealed parchment to one of the village leaders. The man read quickly, his eyes widening.
— This… this has the throne’s seal. — he said, almost in shock.
Joshua didn’t smile.
— It does. — he replied. — Because education isn’t charity. It’s responsibility.
The words spread like fire — but a different fire from the one that had destroyed the place days earlier. People looked at one another, some too moved to speak. A child ran up to Joshua and clung to the hem of his clothing.
— Are we still going to have a room? — the child asked, eyes too big for a face smudged with charcoal.
Joshua knelt without hesitation, ignoring the dust.
— You are. — he replied. — And books. And teachers. And no one is going to take that from you.
The child smiled, wide and fearless.
Joshua felt his chest tighten.
He stood and began to move among the people, listening, asking, helping where he could. He picked up a plank here, helped line up stones there. He didn’t command — he participated.
— Your Grace, this isn’t work for—
— Joshua. — he corrected, without harshness. — Here, I’m just Joshua.
Soonyoung watched closely, his expression serious, but his eyes gentle.
— You should rest. — he commented in a low voice, when Joshua bent to help lift a beam.
— I’ll rest later. — he replied. — This… this is important.
— For them? — Soonyoung asked.
Joshua adjusted the wood, steady.
— For me. — he replied.
When the sun was already high, the basic structure of the new school was beginning to take shape. Nothing luxurious. But solid. More than it had been before.
An older woman approached, leaning on a simple staff.
— The North never did this for us. — she said. — Not truly.
Joshua met her gaze.
— Maybe it’s learning now. — he replied.
— Because of you. — she insisted.
Joshua shook his head.
— Because of all of you. — he said. — I just listened.
She smiled, slow.
— Then listen to this. — she said. — Wherever you are… we will be with you.
The sentence hit him with unexpected force.
Joshua took a deep breath, looking around. At the children. At the adults. At the place that wasn’t palace, but was real.
There, no one called him a shadow.
No one compared him.
No one demanded that he disappear.
There, he was needed.
Soonyoung approached again, his gaze attentive to the village’s movement.
— They trust you. — he said.
Joshua nodded.
— I know. — he replied. — And that is… frightening.
— Why? — Soonyoung asked.
Joshua took a while to answer.
— Because now, if I fail… — he began — It won’t be only me.
Soonyoung put a hand on his shoulder, firm.
— Then don’t fail. — he said, simple.
Joshua smiled faintly.
When they moved away from the village at the end of the afternoon, the sound of hammers still echoed behind them. Construction would continue the next day. And the next. And the days after that.
On the way back to the castle, Joshua felt something different settle inside him.
It wasn’t complete peace.
Nor absolute safety.
It was belonging.
And, for the first time since he arrived in the North, he understood clearly: the power he was building there didn’t come from the throne.
It came from the hands that rose together to rebuild something they had tried to burn. And that… no one could take from him.