It was a day just like any. A day where he would wake at dawn to the distant crowing of a rooster and the shuffling about of his peers in their crowded quarters, no choice but to be alert in the wave of autumn chill that would greet him with the morning. It would be a pleasant day, once the sun rose fully and melted away tentative frost. A perfect day for a hunt in the kingswood, or a stroll through the gardens, where the damask roses would be at the peak of their bloom. It would not be too hot, but perhaps a little breezy, which the horses in their grazing pastures would be happy for. It would be a lovely sight, especially in the late afternoon, when the sun would cast its warmest oranges through the west wing’s windows, just in time for afternoon tea.
He likely wouldn’t see it on this particular day, considering the Duke and Duchess of Morwick would be on their way to the castle even now. Their imminent arrival meant hours of preparation to be done before the King and Queen would even stir in their bed; meals had to be prepped, floors had to be scrubbed until they shone, the most lavish rooms in the palace had to be squeaky clean and decorated lavishly in only the newest and most expensive fashions. His day began with seeing to the princes, a routine that had been a part of his life since he was fourteen.
He dressed with haste and made his way through the kitchens, swiping a slice of pear from a cutting board piled high with ingredients for this morning’s fast-breaking and ducking with a cheeky grin to avoid the inevitable swat the chef would at him on his way out. He made his way upstairs with careful ease, wash basin filled fresh rosewater balanced in his arms, grateful for the slight rise in temperature the climb to higher levels of the castle would bring. Years of making the trip from the servant quarters to Prince Minseok’s chambers so ingrained in his memory that he could likely walk the route in his sleep.
He knocked on the door with a gentle hand and entered the prince’s chambers with a bow, setting the wash basin in its usual place on his night table and moving to the wardrobe. “Good morning, Your Highness.” He carefully tugged an ensemble out of the wardrobe, forest green inlaid with subtle hints of antique gold to match the season, though not too flashy that it might outshine his brother, and laid it out on the bed, smiling politely at Minseok as he approached. He was not oblivious to the prince’s air when he assisted him with dressing in the morning (he insisted for propriety’s sake. He would feel inadequate as a servant if he couldn’t do so much as dress his prince), but he always assumed that if the elder male flinched or stiffened in any way, it was due to the chill of the morning.
As he fastened Minseok’s doublet, deft fingers traveling with practiced expertise down a trail of tiny brass buttons, another servant entered to inform the prince that the Duke and Duchess would be staying in the palace, and that Prince Minseok would not be eating at the main table for breakfast at His Majesty’s request. Sungjong’s jaw tensed as he stepped away from Minseok, gathering his bedclothes and soiled washcloths and actively composing himself, despite the internal dissent he felt boiling in the pit of his stomach. When he turned back to the prince, his demeanor was as calm and composed as always as he draped a modest strand of peridots over his shoulders and reached around to fasten it behind his neck.
“It looks as if the weather will be exceptionally pleasant today,” he uttered quietly, meeting Minseok’s gaze with his own for only a fleeting moment, but hoping he conveyed his sympathy and encouragement; getting out of the stuffiness of the castle would do well to appease such ritual rejection, and maybe he could get enough fresh air for the pair of them, “Perhaps it’s a good day for a ride through the kingswood.” I’m sorry I cannot be of more help than that. He thought to himself as he bowed again, leaving the room and retreating to the kitchens to prepare for the imminent breakfast spread.
Breakfast was well underway when Sungjong saw Minseok for the second time that morning. He nearly sped right past him in his haste to refill the empty bread basket in his hands, and started visibly when he did catch a glimpse of the familiar figure nestled in a corner of the kitchens. “Highness,” he addressed breathlessly, bowing and handing the basket to another passing servant who took over wordlessly, “You’re…Have you eaten? Is there something you need?”
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