Far East: White Silk and Shame [1/?]
Title: Far East: White Silk and Shame
Pairing: Baekhyun/Chanyeol
Length: 2,600~
Genre: Historical/ Drama/ Adventure (?)
Rating: pg-13
Summary: Perhaps he was being married to this man for riches. It is common, even in our society, but it infuriated me that the bride’s lover had the nerve to approach him on his wedding day…
Note: This is set in an alternate universe in the writings of English foreign correspondent Alfred Greene (OC), who travels to the Far East to unpack the secrets of its people.
Note II: All customs are made up by me. I’m pretty sure none of this stuff was around in Korea, now or ever. Also, Alfred comes from a Victorian-Steampunk sort of London.
Note III: This is first part of an inconsistent series. Each part can be read individually.
I was invited upon my arrival to a land in the Far East, to a wedding of a prince. I thought it was the strangest thing to have happened to me in my travels to date, but as I later learned - just before I have begun this account - that a correspondent from the West was expected. It was my competitor, Jonathan Brocklehurst and I am not remorseful at all that I have taken his place at this exclusive affair that is the most widely discussed event of the year in the entire East.
A crown prince of this land took a husband today.
Do not confuse the customs of the West with those of this powerful country here in the East. It is customary that a prince takes a wife to bear children and a husband for counsel and, perhaps, fornicates with them both. This is a tradition in this country to increase the wisdom and productivity of a man who will become more than a man and had become a king. He then has counsel from both a man and woman. (At some points in history a king’s wife and husband have plotted against him, sadly.)
The crown prince of whom I scored an interview was referred to as Chanyeol, the Phoenix Prince of Korea. (Our interview can be found in the latest edition of The Herald News) Such a title was earned from his battle record. Prince Chanyeol is infamous for setting his enemies alight. A certain mythology surrounds him as a young man who had died from his own fires and when his men thought he had burnt with his enemies, he would emerge from the ashes, victorious and well.
As a member of the press, I was given a silken sash and was granted permission to walk around during the procession. Those of the East, like us in the West, don’t refrain from luxury when it is due. I was granted a personal guide, whom transported me through the palace on a luxurious wooden card fitted with cushions.
I had worn my finest suit and yet I looked the most poorly dressed.
The guests, I tell you, are as extravagant as we imagine them - perhaps even more. The women wore silken robes of brilliant colours that draped over their shoulders and fell onto the ground, trailing behind them ten, fifteen meters. They entered the palace from the giant iron gates and into the courtyard open to the heavens. In the afternoon sun, their gemstones and fine metal refracted light most blindingly and they became more an apparition than human. Their gowns were made of silk of varying degrees of transparency. Those of higher rank wore metal, for even women need armour.
How our princes would envy these lords in their boldly coloured robes blended with armour, studded with jewels and embroidery. Each man showcased on his back his adventures and his riches in the form of the silk stitching. The greater the detail, the greater the man.
Now, even my guide was finely dressed in his simple but attractive grey robes. His name was Minseok.
I will take you to bride now, he had said, taking me on an alternate path to the guests ascending the grant stairs into the main chamber of the palace temple where they would be received.
The prince’s to be husband was kept in a tower with the walls dressed in white silk and golden embroidery even from the entrance. Minseok lead me up the tower, which had one side that was entirely glass and so from a fearful height the kingdom can be seen.
Once we reached the top floor, which was actually a balcony and a small building in the centre, Minseok took me by the collar and slammed my back against the wall of this building. I thought he was about to attack me but he placed a finger over his mouth and pressed an ear to the wooden door which he was leaning against. I too put an ear to the door but I heard nothing against the howling wind. As quietly and quickly as a ninja from stories, Minseok entered the building and pressed himself against an inner wall. I was quick to copy his example.
I had shut my eyes in my fear and confusion; What were we doing? Was the prince’s husband-to-be in danger? Was I in danger?
In the darkness, I could hear heavy panting that I soon realized was neither mine nor Minseok’s. The wall which we hid behind had carvings of dragons and lilies in the stone. The carvings went straight through and there was enough for us to see into the chamber of the prince’s husband to-be.
Opening my eyes, I was greeted with the scene of a loving couple. A young man with long legs and dirty brown hooded cloak knelt before a shorter male sitting on a large bed, dressed simply in a white tunic with what seemed like a leather collar bound to his neck and this held his clothing together. The young man kneeling before him smiled with infatuation as his fingers brushed the neck of the pretty young man on the bed. (Yes, I can say as a man with a woman waiting at home that this young man was beautiful.)
I realized then that this was the prince’s bride and the kneeling man his lover.
They were so immersed in each other that they had not seen Minseok nor I.
Oh how the revelation angered me! The prince was being deceived. Perhaps he was being married to this man for riches. It is common, even in our society, but it infuriated me that the bride’s lover had the nerve to approach him on his wedding day!
This lover with dull hair in the brown cloak ran a thumb across the lips of the bride, muttering words that sounded so sweet though unknown to me. Then this intruder cupped the fine jaw of the young man in white and held it at a distance to gaze upon it.
All my anger for this mister vanished the moment I saw his eyes. For some reason, many of us in the West seem to think that Eastern men lack empathy and are so disciplined that they do not express themselves as boldly as they should. However, this mister’s eyes spoke lengths and lengths of words of love and apologies that even if he had spoken, he could not express any of it.
His eyes were mourning. His eyes were pleading. His eyes were memorizing every detail of the bride. His eyes were apologizing. His eyes were full of so much affection that it made me question if I loved my fiancé to that degree.
Honestly, (and I apologize, Jane) I doubt it.
The young bride simply smiled. It was a smile that sparkled. Although, his eyes spoke sadness though not as intense as his lover’s; Perhaps because he was soon to be wed and he, unlike his lover, would be crowned a King alongside the High King and would be rich beyond his dreams.
His lover then broke out in a sob; that smile had hacked right through his soul. It was a terrible sound. Then he took the bride’s lips into his own into a desperate kiss. They seemed to be ravishing into each other like they were both going to die. Perhaps a part of the man in the brown cloak was to die, to witness his love married to someone of grandeur when he, judging from his clothing, was from the either from the poor or the middle-poor.
Suddenly there was a sound. Something was tapping against what sounded like glass and the moment between the lover and the bride was broken when the lover reluctantly released the other’s lips. The prince’s bride as at a loss, made a grab for his lover once again. The young man in the brown cloak raised his hood as he stood. He gave a final kiss on the forehead of the smaller male before opening a window behind the bed and jumping through, disappearing into the afternoon.
The bride retreated from the window and sat upon the bed, beginning to cry. Minseok then escorted me to leave as silently as we entered. He explained as we ran down the steps that the ceremony was to begin in a few minutes. I later learned we had over a half-hour.
We entered the main temple. Since I was a guest of the prince, I was escorted to his end of the great room. As I was late, I stood by the entry. The man beside me; a guard in heavy golden armour.
Prince enter from this door. Bride enter from that door, Minseok had told me in his best English, pointing to the archway some three hundred meters away.
Unlike our Western weddings, music played above the chatter between the lords and ladies and guests of honour. In the distance, I spotted the son of General Zhang of China of whom I’ve been acquainted with before. Also present was a member of the Chinese Imperial Guard. I remembered him from the dark circles under his eyes.
So, unlike our weddings, the music would cease and complete silence ensued when the bride and groom would enter from their respective archways into the main hall of the temple and walk towards the altar in the centre of the circular room.
Heads turned as Prince Chanyeol, the Phoenix Prince of Korea, approached the entry.
Breaths were held and jaws slacked as he entered through the archway, which I was just to the left of.
At first sight, he was perhaps the most extravagant figure I had ever seen in all this country (this was all prior to my interview with him later). His head was held not high, but steady. His hair mimicked that of a warm fire; the colour and style, so much like it. His chest plate, was engraved with birds and fire and like the wall in the tower which his bride was kept, had gaps in the metal were there were holes for eyes and ray of sun, so that that his guests could view the lean sculpted body underneath. His trousers were as simple as they could be, china white fabric with golden stitching. His legs impossibly long. His jewellery were golden arm bands free of any design. His grandest feature was his robe that was attached to his shoulder guards with large links.
And once the train of his rope was finally inside, it filled the temple with glory. It depicted the life of Prince Chanyeol, thus far. His birth. His training. His battles. His victories. The mythology which surrounded him. No childhood.
Whilst his guests wore their ranks on the embroidery on their backs, the prince had a train from his robe that did not have the common dragon, but had the phoenix burning in mighty blinding glory (it was in gold, bronze and silver thread with the warm light shining on it from outside) and it was still entering the temple when he reached the foot of the altar.
Suddenly, that power that had been radiating off the young prince dimmed.
I had abruptly remembered the liberties which the sash I wore had given me and I moved from my place to stand by the seats closest to the altar, talking out my notebook and pencil.
Something was wrong.
The weight of the extravagance of his robe sagged at the shoulders of the young prince and his entire being dulled. I observed once again his legs. So familiar. Then his stance. His hair. And now that I was closer, I could see his face.
The young man now at the altar was in fact, the lover of the bride-to-be.
Joy. That was the single emotion I felt at the moment. The prince had disguised himself to visit his love! He was not being tricked! He was truly dedicated to his bride and I felt bliss for him. And yet, his shoulders sagged.
My joy was ripped from me the moment I saw the husband to-be come up the steps of his side of the altar. It was not the boy with the sparkling smile from the tower. No. This boy was smiling but his lips formed the rough shape of a fattened heart.
Trickery. The prince was the trickster. The prince was the one with the lover.
At the warm smile of his bride, the prince raised his head and flashed one so wide that it seemed so feigned until his eyes did something and they appeared as if they were smiling too. Perhaps no one saw, apart from this reporter, how practiced that was.
The ceremony commenced. They were wed. Their forefingers were tied together with a piece of red string, sealing their fate. The entire temple burst with music and cheering commenced as the new royal couple walked down the aisle out the archway which Prince Chanyeol had entered.
I tried to find Minseok. He knew the same information I now knew, before I learnt the truth. But I could not find him. He had disappeared with the crowd which was now following the newlyweds from the temple into the courtyard.
I stayed behind to write some notes on the wedding. Details and so on, for my article for the Herald. As I was writing, I noticed that there were others now at the altar. Technically, the ceremony was not finished. I later learned that the servants of the lower family, in this case, that of the bride’s, were dismissed by a priest and their duties were passed to the servants of the prince’s household.
There, handing his leather collar to the servant more finely dressed opposite him, was the young man in the tower with the sparkling smile. Honestly, he was handsome enough to be a prince himself.
My heart ached at the thought of him meeting the eyes of his love the prince (for as a servant he would have stood at the foot of the altar), as his love wed his master.
Black strings on the fingers of the servants of the new prince were cut by the priest, removed and then thrown into a torch. It was a symbol to end their servitude. And perhaps, to the lover of Prince Chanyeol, a symbol for the end of their relationship.
I am not exposing a scandal but I am applauding the Phoenix Prince’s sense of duty and courage. It takes an incredible amount of bravery and reasoning of the mind to dismiss the aching calls of the heart and do what is commanded of him. (He could, quite easily, refuse the marriage - perhaps single-handedly burn the kingdom down in the process - but some unknown force has made him stay.)
The same salute is served to his lover, the servant boy. How does this young man feel, knowing that the newlywed High Prince has looked upon him with incomparable favour and was now attempting to mimic this for his former master, whom the High Prince does not love?
Sometimes I think - well I like to think - that Minseok had be paid by someone who despised the kingdom, to take me to the tower just at that time, to write this all down to shame Prince Chanyeol, as Brocklehurst would.
I would like to think that I have not shamed the prince, but have instead highlighted the qualities of a young man who put his kingdom before his love.
- Alfred Greene,
Far East Correspondent from The Herald News, especially for the second edition of Fantastical Stories from the Far East (18--)
A/N: First thing up on LJ yay! Hope you liked it!
Pairing: Baekhyun/Chanyeol
Length: 2,600~
Genre: Historical/ Drama/ Adventure (?)
Rating: pg-13
Summary: Perhaps he was being married to this man for riches. It is common, even in our society, but it infuriated me that the bride’s lover had the nerve to approach him on his wedding day…
Note: This is set in an alternate universe in the writings of English foreign correspondent Alfred Greene (OC), who travels to the Far East to unpack the secrets of its people.
Note II: All customs are made up by me. I’m pretty sure none of this stuff was around in Korea, now or ever. Also, Alfred comes from a Victorian-Steampunk sort of London.
Note III: This is first part of an inconsistent series. Each part can be read individually.
I was invited upon my arrival to a land in the Far East, to a wedding of a prince. I thought it was the strangest thing to have happened to me in my travels to date, but as I later learned - just before I have begun this account - that a correspondent from the West was expected. It was my competitor, Jonathan Brocklehurst and I am not remorseful at all that I have taken his place at this exclusive affair that is the most widely discussed event of the year in the entire East.
A crown prince of this land took a husband today.
Do not confuse the customs of the West with those of this powerful country here in the East. It is customary that a prince takes a wife to bear children and a husband for counsel and, perhaps, fornicates with them both. This is a tradition in this country to increase the wisdom and productivity of a man who will become more than a man and had become a king. He then has counsel from both a man and woman. (At some points in history a king’s wife and husband have plotted against him, sadly.)
The crown prince of whom I scored an interview was referred to as Chanyeol, the Phoenix Prince of Korea. (Our interview can be found in the latest edition of The Herald News) Such a title was earned from his battle record. Prince Chanyeol is infamous for setting his enemies alight. A certain mythology surrounds him as a young man who had died from his own fires and when his men thought he had burnt with his enemies, he would emerge from the ashes, victorious and well.
As a member of the press, I was given a silken sash and was granted permission to walk around during the procession. Those of the East, like us in the West, don’t refrain from luxury when it is due. I was granted a personal guide, whom transported me through the palace on a luxurious wooden card fitted with cushions.
I had worn my finest suit and yet I looked the most poorly dressed.
The guests, I tell you, are as extravagant as we imagine them - perhaps even more. The women wore silken robes of brilliant colours that draped over their shoulders and fell onto the ground, trailing behind them ten, fifteen meters. They entered the palace from the giant iron gates and into the courtyard open to the heavens. In the afternoon sun, their gemstones and fine metal refracted light most blindingly and they became more an apparition than human. Their gowns were made of silk of varying degrees of transparency. Those of higher rank wore metal, for even women need armour.
How our princes would envy these lords in their boldly coloured robes blended with armour, studded with jewels and embroidery. Each man showcased on his back his adventures and his riches in the form of the silk stitching. The greater the detail, the greater the man.
Now, even my guide was finely dressed in his simple but attractive grey robes. His name was Minseok.
I will take you to bride now, he had said, taking me on an alternate path to the guests ascending the grant stairs into the main chamber of the palace temple where they would be received.
The prince’s to be husband was kept in a tower with the walls dressed in white silk and golden embroidery even from the entrance. Minseok lead me up the tower, which had one side that was entirely glass and so from a fearful height the kingdom can be seen.
Once we reached the top floor, which was actually a balcony and a small building in the centre, Minseok took me by the collar and slammed my back against the wall of this building. I thought he was about to attack me but he placed a finger over his mouth and pressed an ear to the wooden door which he was leaning against. I too put an ear to the door but I heard nothing against the howling wind. As quietly and quickly as a ninja from stories, Minseok entered the building and pressed himself against an inner wall. I was quick to copy his example.
I had shut my eyes in my fear and confusion; What were we doing? Was the prince’s husband-to-be in danger? Was I in danger?
In the darkness, I could hear heavy panting that I soon realized was neither mine nor Minseok’s. The wall which we hid behind had carvings of dragons and lilies in the stone. The carvings went straight through and there was enough for us to see into the chamber of the prince’s husband to-be.
Opening my eyes, I was greeted with the scene of a loving couple. A young man with long legs and dirty brown hooded cloak knelt before a shorter male sitting on a large bed, dressed simply in a white tunic with what seemed like a leather collar bound to his neck and this held his clothing together. The young man kneeling before him smiled with infatuation as his fingers brushed the neck of the pretty young man on the bed. (Yes, I can say as a man with a woman waiting at home that this young man was beautiful.)
I realized then that this was the prince’s bride and the kneeling man his lover.
They were so immersed in each other that they had not seen Minseok nor I.
Oh how the revelation angered me! The prince was being deceived. Perhaps he was being married to this man for riches. It is common, even in our society, but it infuriated me that the bride’s lover had the nerve to approach him on his wedding day!
This lover with dull hair in the brown cloak ran a thumb across the lips of the bride, muttering words that sounded so sweet though unknown to me. Then this intruder cupped the fine jaw of the young man in white and held it at a distance to gaze upon it.
All my anger for this mister vanished the moment I saw his eyes. For some reason, many of us in the West seem to think that Eastern men lack empathy and are so disciplined that they do not express themselves as boldly as they should. However, this mister’s eyes spoke lengths and lengths of words of love and apologies that even if he had spoken, he could not express any of it.
His eyes were mourning. His eyes were pleading. His eyes were memorizing every detail of the bride. His eyes were apologizing. His eyes were full of so much affection that it made me question if I loved my fiancé to that degree.
Honestly, (and I apologize, Jane) I doubt it.
The young bride simply smiled. It was a smile that sparkled. Although, his eyes spoke sadness though not as intense as his lover’s; Perhaps because he was soon to be wed and he, unlike his lover, would be crowned a King alongside the High King and would be rich beyond his dreams.
His lover then broke out in a sob; that smile had hacked right through his soul. It was a terrible sound. Then he took the bride’s lips into his own into a desperate kiss. They seemed to be ravishing into each other like they were both going to die. Perhaps a part of the man in the brown cloak was to die, to witness his love married to someone of grandeur when he, judging from his clothing, was from the either from the poor or the middle-poor.
Suddenly there was a sound. Something was tapping against what sounded like glass and the moment between the lover and the bride was broken when the lover reluctantly released the other’s lips. The prince’s bride as at a loss, made a grab for his lover once again. The young man in the brown cloak raised his hood as he stood. He gave a final kiss on the forehead of the smaller male before opening a window behind the bed and jumping through, disappearing into the afternoon.
The bride retreated from the window and sat upon the bed, beginning to cry. Minseok then escorted me to leave as silently as we entered. He explained as we ran down the steps that the ceremony was to begin in a few minutes. I later learned we had over a half-hour.
We entered the main temple. Since I was a guest of the prince, I was escorted to his end of the great room. As I was late, I stood by the entry. The man beside me; a guard in heavy golden armour.
Prince enter from this door. Bride enter from that door, Minseok had told me in his best English, pointing to the archway some three hundred meters away.
Unlike our Western weddings, music played above the chatter between the lords and ladies and guests of honour. In the distance, I spotted the son of General Zhang of China of whom I’ve been acquainted with before. Also present was a member of the Chinese Imperial Guard. I remembered him from the dark circles under his eyes.
So, unlike our weddings, the music would cease and complete silence ensued when the bride and groom would enter from their respective archways into the main hall of the temple and walk towards the altar in the centre of the circular room.
Heads turned as Prince Chanyeol, the Phoenix Prince of Korea, approached the entry.
Breaths were held and jaws slacked as he entered through the archway, which I was just to the left of.
At first sight, he was perhaps the most extravagant figure I had ever seen in all this country (this was all prior to my interview with him later). His head was held not high, but steady. His hair mimicked that of a warm fire; the colour and style, so much like it. His chest plate, was engraved with birds and fire and like the wall in the tower which his bride was kept, had gaps in the metal were there were holes for eyes and ray of sun, so that that his guests could view the lean sculpted body underneath. His trousers were as simple as they could be, china white fabric with golden stitching. His legs impossibly long. His jewellery were golden arm bands free of any design. His grandest feature was his robe that was attached to his shoulder guards with large links.
And once the train of his rope was finally inside, it filled the temple with glory. It depicted the life of Prince Chanyeol, thus far. His birth. His training. His battles. His victories. The mythology which surrounded him. No childhood.
Whilst his guests wore their ranks on the embroidery on their backs, the prince had a train from his robe that did not have the common dragon, but had the phoenix burning in mighty blinding glory (it was in gold, bronze and silver thread with the warm light shining on it from outside) and it was still entering the temple when he reached the foot of the altar.
Suddenly, that power that had been radiating off the young prince dimmed.
I had abruptly remembered the liberties which the sash I wore had given me and I moved from my place to stand by the seats closest to the altar, talking out my notebook and pencil.
Something was wrong.
The weight of the extravagance of his robe sagged at the shoulders of the young prince and his entire being dulled. I observed once again his legs. So familiar. Then his stance. His hair. And now that I was closer, I could see his face.
The young man now at the altar was in fact, the lover of the bride-to-be.
Joy. That was the single emotion I felt at the moment. The prince had disguised himself to visit his love! He was not being tricked! He was truly dedicated to his bride and I felt bliss for him. And yet, his shoulders sagged.
My joy was ripped from me the moment I saw the husband to-be come up the steps of his side of the altar. It was not the boy with the sparkling smile from the tower. No. This boy was smiling but his lips formed the rough shape of a fattened heart.
Trickery. The prince was the trickster. The prince was the one with the lover.
At the warm smile of his bride, the prince raised his head and flashed one so wide that it seemed so feigned until his eyes did something and they appeared as if they were smiling too. Perhaps no one saw, apart from this reporter, how practiced that was.
The ceremony commenced. They were wed. Their forefingers were tied together with a piece of red string, sealing their fate. The entire temple burst with music and cheering commenced as the new royal couple walked down the aisle out the archway which Prince Chanyeol had entered.
I tried to find Minseok. He knew the same information I now knew, before I learnt the truth. But I could not find him. He had disappeared with the crowd which was now following the newlyweds from the temple into the courtyard.
I stayed behind to write some notes on the wedding. Details and so on, for my article for the Herald. As I was writing, I noticed that there were others now at the altar. Technically, the ceremony was not finished. I later learned that the servants of the lower family, in this case, that of the bride’s, were dismissed by a priest and their duties were passed to the servants of the prince’s household.
There, handing his leather collar to the servant more finely dressed opposite him, was the young man in the tower with the sparkling smile. Honestly, he was handsome enough to be a prince himself.
My heart ached at the thought of him meeting the eyes of his love the prince (for as a servant he would have stood at the foot of the altar), as his love wed his master.
Black strings on the fingers of the servants of the new prince were cut by the priest, removed and then thrown into a torch. It was a symbol to end their servitude. And perhaps, to the lover of Prince Chanyeol, a symbol for the end of their relationship.
I am not exposing a scandal but I am applauding the Phoenix Prince’s sense of duty and courage. It takes an incredible amount of bravery and reasoning of the mind to dismiss the aching calls of the heart and do what is commanded of him. (He could, quite easily, refuse the marriage - perhaps single-handedly burn the kingdom down in the process - but some unknown force has made him stay.)
The same salute is served to his lover, the servant boy. How does this young man feel, knowing that the newlywed High Prince has looked upon him with incomparable favour and was now attempting to mimic this for his former master, whom the High Prince does not love?
Sometimes I think - well I like to think - that Minseok had be paid by someone who despised the kingdom, to take me to the tower just at that time, to write this all down to shame Prince Chanyeol, as Brocklehurst would.
I would like to think that I have not shamed the prince, but have instead highlighted the qualities of a young man who put his kingdom before his love.
- Alfred Greene,
Far East Correspondent from The Herald News, especially for the second edition of Fantastical Stories from the Far East (18--)
A/N: First thing up on LJ yay! Hope you liked it!