The years passed like falling leaves — quiet, cold, and unrelenting.
Taehyung was twelve now. Four more years remained before he could stand in the sacred
hall and be officially named Crown Prince.
He had grown into a striking young man — tall for his age, with eyes that burned like embers
beneath dusk. His once fragile body, weakened by the curse of his flames, was now
hardened through years of discipline.
When he was ten, a court trainer — an old general once loyal to Minister Jang — had taken an interest in him. The man, scarred and gray, saw something fierce in the boy's silence,
something worth teaching.
For two years, Taehyung trained under him. Sword, spear, and strategy — he mastered
them all with the same relentless fire that once sought to consume him.
Even the trainer, hardened by wars and politics, had once said, "You learn like a man with nothing left to lose."
Taehyung only smiled faintly in response.
His flames, once wild and uncontrollable, had become a part of him. He no longer needed
nightly visits from Lady Aera to cool the fire in his veins — he had learned to endure it
himself.
The fire still hurt, but he bore it quietly, as if the pain was a friend he'd grown up with.
As for Aera, she too had changed.
She was eleven now, but she looked and spoke like someone much older — graceful,
poised, her beauty touched with the chill of divinity. Her eyes were clear, distant, almost too calm for a child. The maids who served her had dwindled from ten to only four. The others
had begged to be reassigned, unable to withstand the cold that clung to her chambers.
Sometimes, as she stood by her window, frost would bloom across the glass with each
breath she took.
She rarely spoke — not from arrogance, but from something deeper. She felt no emotion, no warmth, only duty.
The palace called her Lady of Frost.
The deity child who smiled for no one.
Years had passed since the night she last spoke to Taehyung — the night he told her she
acted older than her age.
After that, neither sought the other again. There was no quarrel, no hatred between them… only a quiet understanding that words were no longer needed.
They had both grown into silence — he with his flames, she with her frost.
And though they lived in the same palace, breathing the same air, they felt worlds apart —
fire and ice coexisting, each too proud, too scarred, to reach out again.
But deep within Taehyung's heart, the embers of loneliness still glowed faintly. Sometimes, at
night, he would look toward the frost-covered
if fate had brought them together to save him, or to destroy him slowly, piece by piece
The palace had changed in those quiet years.
Time had not only carved Taehyung into a man but had also filled the royal halls with the
laughter of new princes.
After Aera's second year in the palace, the queen bore twins — Prince Mijin and Prince
Jung.
They were seven now, identical in face but entirely different in soul.
Mijin was the quieter of the two, though silence never made him weak.
He observed people the way one reads a book — page by page, expression by expression.
His sharp, calculating eyes missed nothing. Even at his age, the court tutors whispered that his mind was as dangerous as his father's once was. He could be playful one moment and serious the next, a mix of warmth and intellect that made him unpredictable.
Jung, on the other hand, was the pulse of energy within the palace walls.
He loved the clang of swords and the rhythm of training grounds more than the comfort of
study halls. His laughter was loud, his temper quick, and his heart fearless. He would often
sneak into the soldiers' yard, attempting to mimic their movements until his palms bled and his knee bruised. The two were inseparable, bound by both blood and mischief. And though their mother, the queen, filled their days with lessons on etiquette and grace, their hearts belonged elsewhere — to the brother they were forbidden to adore.
Prince Taehyung.
To them, he was everything a prince should be — strong, calm, unshakable.
They admired him from the shadows of the courtyard, hiding behind pillars as he trained,
watching the flames swirl around him like a storm barely contained.
Sometimes, when no one was watching, they would sneak into the training grounds after
dusk.
Taehyung, always aware of their presence, would turn with a faint smirk and say,
"You two again? You'll be caught one day."
And the twins would giggle, bow awkwardly, and run to him.
They would spar clumsily with wooden swords while Taehyung guided them, adjusting their
grips, correcting their stances. To them, he was not a cursed prince or a distant brother — he was their role model.
But it was a secret they could never say aloud.
The queen had forbidden them from mentioning his name in her presence. To her,
Taehyung's very existence was a wound — a reminder of the late queen, of Saha, whose
shadow still lingered over the throne.
Yet no matter how much she tried to erase him, Taehyung's presence in the palace was like
the flame of a candle in the wind — wavering, but never dying.
Their eldest brother, Prince Yul, had grown quieter with age. He spent most of his time
buried in scrolls and maps, dreaming of the world beyond the palace walls. He loved
studying foreign lands, their laws, and their skies.
Unlike the others, he held no desire for the throne or power. His heart was gentle, his voice
calm, and though he rarely spoke, when he did, his words carried weight.
"Someday," Yul once said softly to the twins, "we'll see the world — not as princes, but as
men free from crowns."
They had laughed then, too young to understand the meaning of those words.
And so, in that palace divided by frost and fire, laughter still found its place —
in the hidden corners where three brothers trained together under the moonlight,
unseen, unheard, and bound by blood stronger than politics.
But fate has never been kind to royal children.
And soon, the day would come when that secret bond would be tested —when brotherhood would clash against destiny itself.
Fifteen years old.
Prince Taehyung had become a name whispered in both awe and fear across the kingdom.
The cursed prince — the boy born in flames and raised in silence.
He had grown tall and broad-shouldered, his once youthful features now sharpened by time
and restraint.
His gaze held power, quiet yet fierce — the kind that made even seasoned generals bow
lower than usual.
And yet, in the same palace where his name carried dread, he was still a ghost.
Three years had passed, and Taehyung had made no decision about the throne.
No acceptance. No refusal.
Just silence.
That silence began to unravel the queen's nerves like a thread stretched too tight.
She had spent those years watching him from a distance — the child of the woman her
husband could never forget, a reminder that no matter how high her crown gleamed, she
was still standing in another woman's shadow.
But now, with the court growing restless again, she could no longer remain still.
One morning, she summoned Prince Yul to her chambers.
He entered quietly, bowing with the grace that made him beloved among scholars and
nobles alike. His calm demeanor only worsened her irritation.
"Yul," she began, her voice edged with command, "you must start preparing yourself to take the title of Crown Prince."
Yul blinked, startled. "Mother, that is not possible," he said softly. "The crown already belongs to Taehyung. Everyone knows this. Even if he is cursed—"
"Even if he is cursed!" the queen snapped, her voice echoing off the marble walls.
She rose from her seat, eyes blazing with both fear and fury. "That boy will burn this kingdom
to ash one day! You've seen his flames, Yul — they will consume everything, even you!"
"But, Mother—"
"You will obey me!" she shouted, slamming her palm against the table. "You will read, train,
act like the crown prince! You are my son — the rightful son of the queen! Or…"
Her tone lowered, colder, sharper.
"Would you rather your younger brothers take your place?"
Yul stiffened, his hands trembling slightly.
Do you truly wish to steal their freedom because of your selfish refusal?" she pressed.
"Think carefully. If you do not take this duty, Mijin or Jung will bear it — and they are far too
young for such cruelty."
Her words sliced through him.
He had always loved his brothers deeply — the thought of them burdened by politics and
blood tore at his heart.
After a long silence, Yul bowed deeply.
"…I understand, Mother. I will obey your will."
The queen's lips curved in faint satisfaction, though her heart remained uneasy.
As Yul left, he glanced toward the east — toward Taehyung's wing of the palace.
"Please," he whispered under his breath, "do not give up the throne, Brother. If you claim it,
none of us will suffer."
That same night, the queen went to the king's chambers.
The candlelight flickered against his tired face, the lines of age and regret carved deeper
than before.
She stood before him in silence until he finally asked, "What brings you here at this hour?"
"My lord," she began carefully, "it's time we put an end to this uncertainty. You must speak to
Prince Taehyung."
The king's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean," she said, her voice trembling between fear and cunning.
"The boy will turn sixteen soon. Once he is of age, the court will crown him, and there will be
no turning back. The ministers have already declared it. If you wish to protect this kingdom, if you wish to protect our sons… tell him to step down."
The king's eyes darkened, and for a long moment, he said nothing.
At last, he sighed heavily.
"You ask me to strip the son of Saha — of the late queen — from his rightful destiny. You
ask me to repeat the same sin that destroyed this palace once before."
The queen's eyes glistened.
"Then so be it. Let history repeat itself if it must — but I will not watch my children burn for the sake of that cursed child".
The air grew still between them.
The king turned his gaze toward the open window, the moonlight washing over his weary
face.
"You do not understand," he said softly. "Perhaps none of you ever did. The boy's fate was sealed long before he was born. Even I cannot save him now. But I will do anything to protect our family."
The queen's heart twisted — part in fear, part in frustration. And as she left his chambers that night, the echo of his words haunted her —
"Even I cannot save him now…"
The next day the king passed Taehyung's training chambers while the prince was still at
practice. He had not seen the boy in years. He had grown strong, was the first thought that
came to him. He decided to wait until nightfall and returned then to the prince's room.
Taehyung lay resting when the king entered. At the sound of footsteps he woke, fingers
closing on the hilt of his sword. When he saw the king, he bowed.
"His Majesty, what brings you to this lowly place?" he said, voice guarded.
The king moved to sit beside him. "Rise up and sit," he said, seating himself near the boy.
He watched Taehyung — admiring the growth, yet hiding a deep fear. "It's been a while," he
offered.
Taehyung could not hold back his anger. "What brings you here to this place, Your Majesty?"
he shot back.
"Give up the throne," the king said sharply.
Taehyung was dumbfounded. He had expected an apology for neglect, perhaps a word of regret — not this. "Why should I, Your Majesty?" he demanded.
"Because if you don't, you will destroy the kingdom," the king replied. "If not for Aera, you
wouldn't be able to control those flames."
Taehyung snapped, "I can control it myself."
The king's face hardened. "You're cursed by the heavens. You will die young, and a king
must not die young. You will become a taboo once you become the king. Everyone will resent you, do you know why?..... Because your very birth is a curse."
The words cut into Taehyung like ice. His voice cracked. "You're lying. My body is stronger than most people. Why are you lying to me? Why do you hate me so much? Why can't you love me ??? Am I not also your son?..... I'm also human, I can cry, I can feel pains too."
The king replied saying;
"You are no son of mine!!! You're a monster".