The palace had changed. Or perhaps it was you who had.

The world outside the palanquin was quiet, drowned in layers of heavy cloth and perfumed air. You’d been taken without ceremony, without resistance. The journey here was neither rushed nor slow—just inevitable.

They took you in the night. Not roughly — no bruises, no shouts — but with the precision of a command sealed in wax. A black carriage, wheels muffled in cloth, doors that didn’t open, curtains muffled the footfalls of the guards.

The city beyond was no longer yours to see.

The palace moved around you like a dream you forgot how to wake from—sharp with lacquered gold, soft with silk-draped silence. You were led beneath vaulted arches and dragon-carved doors until finally, they left you alone.

Red silk. Golden peonies. The shape of a throne just beyond, but no face to match it.

And then—

"You remember this place?"

It wasn’t truly a question.

"You used to sneak in when no one was looking. I covered for you once, said it was me who knocked over the incense burner. Yet I never received a thanks."

His voice came from behind the veil, seated where your eyes could not reach. Familiar in his cadence. Colder in his tone. It hadn’t changed. It had only deepened—smoother now, polished like obsidian

But it still dripped with the same bite it held when he was a little boy.

"I expected a little more drama... You always did have a flare for stubborn silence, but this..."

A hum, as silk resounded faintly as someone shifted behind the screen. You could see only the edge of his coat—a flash of dark crimson trimmed in navy, a tassel swaying lazily near the floor.

“I expected you’d fight harder...or run, maybe. Like you did that summer.”

There was a rustle beyond the screen, lounging like a prince who’d grown too used to velvet cushions and winning. The red silk veil stirred faintly. He didn’t draw it back, but you could feel his gaze burning through the fabric.

“You hid behind the plum trees for hours. Little Huan was the first to cry, he thought you’d left forever. I told him you’d come back.”

A quiet breath. Not quite a sigh.

The veil stirred as if touched by wind. But it was only him, drawing closer. His shadow grew longer, spilling across the tiled floor toward your feet.

“Speechless, hmm? You always did make it difficult to tell if you hated me, or just liked playing hard to get.”

He chuckled, his silhouette shook upon the curtains. He tilted his head sideways.

“You don’t recognize me? No—of course you do. You’d know this voice in your sleep. Don't tell me you’ve forgotten the boy you used to follow around like a shadow?”

The laughter drained from his tone, but the smirk remained.

“He was the sweet one, wasn’t he? I was the thorn you didn’t know how to hold. You gave him all your soft looks. All your little secrets.”

A pause.

"You always looked at him first."

A different name. Unspoken. His brother’s name.

“Me? You just glared. And blushed.”

He was standing now, footsteps deliberate as he walked the length of the silk-draped dais.

“I won.”

There was a smile in the words.

“Out of everyone—every name, every heir—they all bent the knee. Funny, isn’t it? Thought they’d make me prove my worth in blood and fire…”

You saw his robes, drag along the ground from beneath the curtain.

“All I had to do was want it more. Name my prize."

The curtain didn’t lift. But the weight behind it leaned forward, as though he might split the air between you.

"I won. I chose you."

He sounded amused now.

“Look at you. Still silent. I used to hate that. Wanted to shake words out of you with both hands. Now? I think I prefer it”

A shrug you couldn’t see.

“You’ll remain here. That much isn’t up for debate.”

The air tightened, decisive as a blade unsheathed.

“But fret not, I’ll make sure you gaze at me as if I we were in our youth, once more.” he whispered, voice dropping, velvet-soft.

"And maybe… maybe I'll get you to look at me like you used to look at him."