Where the sea sleeps [HoonHao] ✔

30

Minghao protested.

Woozi could hear his protests all the way back out of the prison building. It was only when the door shut that the protests were nullified. He could no longer hear them and while that would have scared him at any other point in time, he wasn't scared now.

Somehow, he trusted that whatever Wonwoo was going to do, it wasn't going to harm him in any way. He wished more than anything that he could tell Minghao that. He wished he could tell Minghao he was in safe hands, but at the same time he knew that even if he was able to, Minghao would want to know how he could possibly know that. How he could possibly tell that this guard wasn't going to hurt him or hand him over to anyone to be killed or hurt or anything remotely like that.

"Where are we going?" His voice comes out small. He barely catches it himself, but the words are out there now. With the silence between them, the only sounds are the faint distant chatter of the citizens, he knew it couldn't have been missed. He watches Wonwoo who walks with his shoulders back and his head high, just like every other guard he's seen. Except, despite his eyes being scarily dark, he appeared so much kinder in nature than those guards that laid a hand on him back in the last town.

"The palace," he responds stiffly, voice almost completely monotonous. Out of the corner of his eye, he glances at Woozi who looks at him calmly, waiting to hear whether there was anything more he was going to add. Which is exactly what he does. His gaze shifts ahead of him as he says, "Something has been brought to my attention and I cannot have it wait."

He pauses to consider the words being uttered. Watching him and the way he walks, he tries to get a hold of his thoughts, brows furrowing. "Does this have anything to do with what you have seen on my arm?" Somehow, he's taken on a softer tone than before and he barely gets the words out in the first place, hesitation on each of them. He couldn't really speak about it on the ship, so it felt taboo speaking about it now.

Wonwoo doesn't answer. Instead, he speeds up which forces Woozi to up his own pace. He's almost jogging with the pace Wonwoo is going. Going down the same paths the guard had taken them when arriving at the prison, they hardly pass any citizens. Though the walk is a lot quicker than the walk from the ship to the prison itself, which is a little relieving. He wasn't sure he'd be able to make another walk like that. Not immediately. His legs were still trembling under his weight.

In the blink of an eye, they're walking through a gate Wonwoo opens; it's not the front of the palace. They're somewhere near the back and with closer inspection as he waits for Wonwoo to continue leading him, he suspects this to be a secret passage into the palace. One that only a handful of people would know, including guards working directly under the king and queen themselves.

"This way," is all he says and he's walking again. So much walking that he hopes it's worth it. The end destination, that is.

They're in the palace. Walking down one corridor after another. It's clear Wonwoo has been here many times before because he turns without hesitation. Taking in his surroundings, there's a warm feeling in his chest. Something familiar tingling through him. It's almost like he's been here before, but he doesn't think that could be possible. Out of all the possibilities of who he could be, palace guard had never struck him as a possibility. Palace guard is something he hopes he is not.

He's led toward a set of double doors which Wonwoo pushes open. He follows closely behind and it takes a moment before his eyes are settling on the throne in the middle of the room near the back. Thrones, would be a more appropriate word, as there are three.

Only one seat is occupied; the one in the middle and the tallest of the thrones.

A male sits in a lazing position. A leg is thrown over his other and while he's not slumped in the seat, he's sitting far back with his chin resting in his hand. A mop of dark hair falls loosely into his face decorated with an expression he could only describe as bored. He turns his head slowly, eyes lazily taking the two of them in. There's barely an inch of movement on his part, other than dropping his hand and lifting his head to acknowledge their presence with more than just his eyes.