Beyond the Borders of Love

Chapter 8: THE SHADOW OF DEATH

The Iceonian marketplace was a symphony of sights and sounds. The air buzzed with the energy of a thousand conversations, the scent of spices and roasted meats filling the air. Carriages rattled over cobblestones, vendors hawked their wares, and children chased each other through the crowded streets. Amidst the bustling scene, a man cloaked in black, his hood pulled low, stood on a rooftop, his eyes fixed on Prince Minho. He clutched his twin daggers, their gold serpent sheaths gleaming in the sunlight.

"Jimin, you're here," a soft voice whispered, a hint of relief in its tone. The man turned, his eyes meeting those of his mate, a young man with a gentle smile and eyes that held a depth of understanding.

"He looks different, doesn't he, Yoonie?" Jimin asked, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and nostalgia. "More mature, more...serious."

Yoongi, his eyes fixed on Minho, nodded, a flicker of sadness crossing his face. "He was just a boy when we last saw him. Now, he's a prince, burdened with the weight of his kingdom."

Jimin, his hand resting lightly on Yoongi's arm, smiled. "But I know he's still the same kind heart, though," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Remember how he used to sneak us sweets from the royal kitchens?"

Yoongi chuckled, a memory of a mischievous, young prince warming his heart. "He'd get in trouble every time and get scolded by our late mistress," he said, shaking his head. "But he never stopped."

Jimin's gaze met Yoongi's, a shared grief binding them together. "Do you think he'll remember us?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Yoongi's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "He might. But it's not about that. We have to deliver the message, Jimin. For his sake."

Jimin's hand tightened on Yoongi's arm. "For the queen," he murmured, his voice filled with sorrow.

Their eyes met, a silent promise to honor their queen's memory. They watched as Minho, his brow furrowed in concentration, argued with Changbin.

"But Minho," Changbin argued, his voice strained. "These are the best roasted chestnuts in the whole market! We have to try them!"

Minho sighed, shaking his head. "Changbin, we have a limited budget. We can't afford to be buying snacks at every stall."

"But it's just one small bag," Changbin pleaded, his eyes wide with puppy-dog charm. "Come on, please?"

Minho raised an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

"Fine," he said, finally giving in. "But just one small bag."

Changbin grinned, his frustration forgotten. "Thank you, Minho!" he exclaimed, grabbing a bag of roasted chestnuts and paying for it.

As Changbin wandered off to find a place to sit, Minho turned his attention to the merchant's stall, his gaze drawn to the beautifully crafted wooden boxes. He reached out, his fingers tracing the intricate carvings.

"These are beautiful," he murmured, his voice soft.

The merchant, a wizened old man with a kind smile, bowed his head. "Thank you, Your Highness. These boxes were made by my grandfather, and they are heirlooms in our family."

Yoongi and Jimin exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Minho's kindness was evident, even in his dealings with a common merchant. He was still the same boy, despite the years and the weight of his crown.