Seungcheol, adorned in regal attire, steps into the ancient wood crafting chamber of the palace, where skilled artisans toil under flickering torchlight to fashion objects of beauty and utility. His keen eyes survey the vast expanse of the chamber, where the most esteemed woods are laid bare in the dimly lit dungeon.
"Welcome, Your Majesty," Seungcheol looks up to behold a craftsman standing before him, his demeanor respectful and deferential. "Is there aught you require to be wrought?" the craftsman asks, his voice echoing with reverence for the monarch.
Seungcheol inclines his head in acknowledgment, a touch of uncertainty coloring his royal countenance. "Indeed," he responds, his voice carrying the weight of royal decree. With measured steps, he approaches the array of woods, seeking the finest specimen.
"I seek to fashion a hair stick," Seungcheol declares, his tone decisive as he traces his fingers over the aged wood, seeking the perfect piece for his purpose. The craftsman nods, understanding the significance of the monarch's request.
"And what manner of material do you desire, Your Majesty?" the craftsman inquires, eager to fulfill the monarch's wishes.
Seungcheol pauses, his thoughts drifting to his beloved consort, Jeonghan, whose image fills his mind with tender affection. With solemn determination, he articulates his desires.
"A material of softest touch," he decrees, "to ensure it brings no discomfort to his hand."
"Ease of handling is paramount," Seungcheol continues, "so that he may adorn his hair without hindrance or frustration."
"A fragrance that soothes the soul," he adds, "to accompany him with every gentle gesture."
"Include a subtle loop," Seungcheol commands, "to nestle roses with each dawn, a symbol of our enduring love."
"And I shall wield the tools myself," Seungcheol proclaims, his voice resonating with regal authority, "to imbue it with the sanctity of our bond."
With his decree issued, Seungcheol watches as the craftsman bows deeply, accepting the noble task bestowed upon him by the monarch. In the ancient wood crafting chamber, amidst the scent of aged timber and the flickering glow of torches, the legacy of royal devotion is set to be immortalized in the form of a single, exquisitely carved hair stick.
"What wood do you desire for your majesty?" As the royal craftsman presents a bag of meticulously selected woods before him, Seungcheol, adorned in regal attire, assumes a posture of contemplation. With a dignified nod, he gestures for the artisan to proceed, his discerning gaze assessing each piece with meticulous care.
The first wood he examines is ebony, its deep, obsidian hue imbued with an aura of majestic elegance. Its polished surface gleams under the ambient glow of torchlight, exuding an opulence befitting the crown. Seungcheol's fingers trace the smooth grain, appreciating its regal luster and refined texture.
Next, he turns his attention to teakwood, renowned for its robustness and endurance—a timber worthy of royal patronage. Its rich, amber tones evoke visions of grand palaces and noble estates, symbolizing strength and stability in the face of adversity. Seungcheol admires the wood's solid construction, envisioning it as a testament to the monarchy's unwavering resolve.
Continuing his appraisal, Seungcheol considers rosewood, its delicate fragrance infusing the air with an intoxicating allure. Its intricate patterns speak of timeless sophistication and artistic refinement, resonating with the grace and elegance inherent in royal lineage. Seungcheol envisions the intricate designs he could carve into the wood, each stroke a tribute to the splendor of the throne.
As his search progresses, Seungcheol comes upon cedarwood, its refreshing scent redolent of verdant forests and pristine wilderness. Its supple texture conveys a sense of delicate resilience, reminiscent of the enduring wisdom passed down through generations of sovereigns. Seungcheol inhales deeply, savoring the cedarwood's fragrance, contemplating its suitability for his royal endeavor.
Finally, Seungcheol's discerning gaze alights upon sandalwood, its pale, creamy complexion radiating an aura of serene magnificence. Its gentle, earthy aroma envelops him in a regal embrace, inviting him to partake in its timeless allure. With a decisive nod, Seungcheol selects sandalwood as the epitome of royal refinement, knowing that its enduring beauty will serve as a fitting testament to the majesty of the crown.
"This," Seungcheol declares, selecting the sandalwood from the array before him. "I wish to fashion a hair stick from this exquisite material." With a graceful sweep of his hand, he gestures for the craftsman to prepare the workspace, his regal bearing commanding respect and attention.
The craftsman swiftly clears the table, returning with a fresh supply of sandalwood and an assortment of blades and carving tools. "Here, Your Majesty," he says, presenting the tools with a deferential bow.
Seungcheol accepts the blade with a firm yet gentle grip, his royal demeanor softened by the anticipation of crafting a gift for his beloved Jeonghan. Under the craftsman's guidance, he learns the art of sharpening the blade, adjusting the length, and delicately shaping the wood to perfection.
As they toil together, the passage of time becomes irrelevant, their focus consumed by the task at hand. With each careful stroke of the blade, Seungcheol feels a sense of connection to the material and to the recipient of his creation.
But as the work progresses, the strain of labor becomes apparent on Seungcheol's hands, small scrapes and cuts marring his once flawless skin. Despite the discomfort, he perseveres, determined to see his vision through to completion.
Finally, the craftsman announces the completion of their work, presenting Seungcheol with the finished hair stick. With a sense of pride and satisfaction, Seungcheol holds the hair stick in his hand, a glimmer of excitement dancing in his eyes.
As he admires the handiwork, a moment of uncertainty grips Seungcheol. "Will he approve?" he wonders aloud, the weight of his affection for Jeonghan evident in his voice.
But deep down, Seungcheol knows that the hair stick, crafted with love and dedication, is a token of his devotion that transcends any doubt. With a resolute smile, he places the hair stick into his own hair, trusting in the strength of their bond and the sincerity of his affection.
The craftsman nods in agreement, his respect for the monarch's devotion evident in his eyes. "Indeed, Your Majesty," he replies, his voice reverent. "A gift crafted with such care and affection is sure to be cherished by its recipient."
With a sense of conviction, Seungcheol secures the hair stick into his own hair, the smooth wood resting against his temple like a silent promise. As he prepares to present the gift to Jeonghan, he carries with him the reassurance of the craftsman's words—that true love knows no bounds, and that the most precious gifts are those that come from the heart.
"It is almost noon," Seungcheol muses as he walks down the hallway, his thoughts consumed by the anticipation of seeing Jeonghan. He recalls how Jeonghan had specifically requested his presence in the afternoon, igniting a sense of longing within him.
Standing before the chamber door, Seungcheol adjusts the hair stick tucked neatly into his layers, a symbol of the gift he carries for his beloved. With a regal gesture, he dismisses the soldiers and enters the chamber, his heart racing with anticipation.
Inside, he finds Jeonghan standing by the door, a white dove perched on his hand, which takes flight the moment Seungcheol steps in.
"Seungcheol—" Jeonghan begins, his voice tinged with a hint of stress, but Seungcheol fails to notice.
"My rose," Seungcheol greets him warmly, stepping forward. "Did a dove find its way into our chamber?" he asks, scanning the room for any sign of the bird.
A sigh of relief escapes Jeonghan's lips as he sidles up to Seungcheol. "Yes, it seems one slipped in when I left the window open this morning," he explains, gently guiding Seungcheol away from the window.
"It has flown away now," Jeonghan reassures him, his hand lingering on Seungcheol's shoulder as they come together.
"How has your day been?" Seungcheol inquires softly, drawing Jeonghan into his embrace. "It was fine, but it will be even better now that you are here," Jeonghan replies, resting his head on Seungcheol's shoulder.
"Turn around," Seungcheol requests, and Jeonghan raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "Why?"
"Just trust me, my rose," Seungcheol insists, gently turning Jeonghan by the shoulders. With practiced hands, he gathers Jeonghan's hair into a low bun, securing it with the hair stick.
"Wait—" Jeonghan starts, reaching out to touch the hair stick before rushing to the mirror, his eyes lighting up with delight as he observes the adornment in his hair.
"Did you acquire this for me?" Jeonghan asks, turning to Seungcheol with astonishment. Seungcheol nods, wrapping his arms around Jeonghan from behind. "Yes, do you like it?" he inquires, holding his breath.
"I shall cherish it more dearly than my own life," Jeonghan whispers, cupping Seungcheol's cheeks as he leans in to kiss him, their love immortalized in the beauty of a single, regally crafted hair stick.
"Wait, what's this?" Jeonghan's voice cuts through the air as he gently takes Seungcheol's hand, inspecting the fine lines and cuts caused by the sharp blades. His concern is palpable, his eyes searching Seungcheol's for answers.
Seungcheol meets Jeonghan's gaze with a reassuring smile, his regal composure unwavering. "It is nothing," he assures him, his voice steady despite the pain evident in his hand. "These scars will fade in time."
Jeonghan falls silent, his heart heavy with worry as he looks upon the hands of the man he loves. Without a word, he throws himself into Seungcheol's arms, seeking solace in his embrace.
"My rose," Seungcheol whispers softly, his hand rubbing circles on Jeonghan's back in a comforting gesture.
"Everything that bears your name is precious to me," he continues, his voice filled with sincerity. "Even if it means enduring hardship or pain."
"Because every moment with you, every experience we share, is a treasure beyond measure," Seungcheol continues, his voice carrying the weight of their shared history and the promise of their future together.
Jeonghan lifts his head from Seungcheol's chest, his eyes meeting the gaze of his beloved monarch. In that moment, they share an unspoken understanding, a bond forged in love and tested by the trials of life.
"And even the pain that comes from you, my beloved, is a cherished gift," Seungcheol murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with profound sincerity.
------
-Vaish
The story has a good plot I swear, just endure a bit more.