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The scene was red.
It was red as far as the eyes could see, with ash and smoke dancing together in the skies behind black towering roofs of pagodas and villas. A man in elaborate red and black armor stood within the palace walls, gazing down upon the painting before him. The scene was familiar and serene.
It was Jeonghan’s home.
The fire nation was an imperishable force of nature. An inevitable. They had always been at the top of the food chain, striking fear in the hearts of anyone and everyone who dared cross their glory. For the past several years, the fire nation’s military under the watchful leadership of General Yoon has been the most infallible and impregnable army the world has ever seen. Many would call him bloodthirsty. Some would call him cruel. But the general paid such insignificant comments no mind, especially when every single trivial death and cry would abound to the erupting success of the Fire Lord’s grandeur and legacy. After all, he had made an oath to both the Fire Lord and to the nation to devote his life to their service until his untimely demise.
He was simply another pawn in a bigger play.
And even then, he paid that truth no mind. Not when he had everything he’d ever wanted and will ever be wanting in the royal chambers of the fire nation’s palace waiting for him. Always.
Jeonghan meekly enters the room that had become all too familiar to him.
The prince was sitting on his desk with his back facing the general, not even sparing him a glance. He was dressed so warmly in his royal robes yet seemed deeply engrossed in the paperwork spread across the table.
The general saunters towards the other man. “Busy?"
The prince hums in reply. “How was the raid?”
“Wonderful.” Jeonghan wraps his arms around the other’s shoulders lazily and sighs. “Come and rest with me for a while.”
“I cannot.” The prince sighs against him tiredly. The general loosens his hold at the unexpected dismissal. “You know how my father gets when I do not carry out his orders as soon as possible.”
“Oh please. You must rest your body. It is your coronation tomorrow, Your Highness .”
The general feels the vibration of his scoff at the nickname beneath his fingertips. “Who in their right mind could rest when living with the kind of expectations my father has of me? They ceaselessly elude me.”
The prince’s self-doubt pains Jeonghan to hear. He’s always been aware of the royal family’s frigid, erratic relationship, as well as the incessant hold they had on his lover’s peace of mind. “You shall have nothing to worry about. You will do amazing tomorrow.”
“I hope you are right.” The prince gathers another batch of papers onto his desk and the sight piques the older’s displeasure. Jeonghan tightens his hold once more. The prince’s dismissal would not inhibit him.
“Wonwoo,” he whispers alluringly in his ear, “please.”
“Jeonghan.” The prince reprimands him.
The general clicks his tongue and releases his hold on the man, turning and moving backwards towards the door. “Fine. I will look for some other place to spend my time.”
He waits for a few milliseconds to pass and hears a harsh graze of wood against the floor. It was a winning game.
Jeonghan turns to mock his lover for adhering so easily only to find himself suddenly trapped between the hard door and with two strong arms on either sides of his head. He meets Wonwoo’s low and heavy gaze, like a whirlpool of black abysmal oil only seconds away from an inferno. The sight sets a single, lowly flare in the pit of the general’s own stomach.
It would take just a spark.
“You, my darling,” the prince inches ever so closely until they are barely centimeters apart. His breath is low, hot, and heavy. “are a menace.”
The general grins ever so slyly—his eyes betraying him and flitting down towards the other’s lips. He whispers, “ Your menace.”
He’s not quite sure who closes the gap between them.
The two clash in a fervor akin to that of a fanned bonfire flame. Their kisses are heated, desperate, and stinging as their searing hands wander and explore every crevice of each other. Jeonghan could no longer recognize where he ended and where his prince began. Unbeknownst to him, they somehow end up on the prince’s bed, where they could continue their pursuit of one another in unbridled fervidness. Every touch of skin burns him like the fire of a solar eclipse, leaving a wave of heat he’d remember the ghost of for weeks to come.
His prince handles him like feldspar porcelain, despite the fire that was bound to render him liquified. It makes him shiver in the feeling of being fragile, despite his years worth of war-torn scars. In Wonwoo’s hands, he was nothing but a circus rose.
It was in times like these that the general could say—every raid, every invasion, every scream and death were worth it as long as he could steal moments such as this, moments the lord would turn a blind eye to.
The two lovers dance like two blazing wisps of a wildfire, connecting and intertwining until only a single flame remained, and until the mighty Sun no longer shone towards the red horizon.
`~ •✼• ~`
Jeonghan wakes up with a startle at the unfamiliarity he feels. His body shivers—and not in the same manner it had done the night before, no—it was cold. The lack of warmth unnerves him enough to sit up and quickly scan across the room. Wonwoo was not there. He tried to remain calm, despite the chill settling into him. His prince had never left him behind asleep before, always opting to slowly wake up together and prepare for the day or to wake the general up before leaving for his royal duties. Perhaps the general should have adjudged that frigid, numbing morning as a foreboding harbinger of what was to come. Because just as he was about to get out of bed, the door slams open and reveals his right hand man and trusted friend, Hong Jisoo, heaving with sweat dripping down his face.
“General Yoon,” Jisoo’s eyes are swirling with panic and distraught, and Jeonghan wishes he could stop time right then and there, just to keep himself from hearing his next words. “The prince has left the nation and has gone missing. He has betrayed the Fire Nation.”