Almost Killing the Prince | Minsung ✓

-XLI-

The hanbok looked weird on him.

No, it had nothing to do with the material or the design- in all honesty, the palace's clothing was nothing short of magnificence. And the first thing the maids forced him to do was take a shower, so the clothing smelled even more amazing on him.

But it still felt off.

Jisung glanced down at himself, a guard outfit similar to Changbin's though without the light armor. He'd rather have pliant clothes than being restricted by armor. The cloth was a comfortable dark Prussian, with the sleeves and the accents a slightly lighter teal. Light bracers of the same color secured his sleeves from flying about. And to top it all off, clean bandages around his almost fully healed wounds.

At least that was familiar to him.

Though the maids said he looked nice and was required within the palace. So he allowed the outfit to stay, if it meant staying by Minho. After all, he didn't want to shame the prince in front of his father.

"Is he done?" Jisung perks up when the handmaids quickly back out of the crown prince's quarters, holding their hearts and letting out a sharp puff of air when the doors shut.

"No. He's refusing to get into them."

"Can I go... in...?" Jisung tentatively points to the door, the maids arching an eyebrow at him. They clearly didn't think Jisung would be any help since- he's a thief and self-proclaimed as Minho's guard, but nodded either way.

"Your highness, your personal guard is entering," a eunuch beside the door announces, sliding them closed behind the guard after he enters.

Minho was sitting on his bed, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed and still in his white jeogori. His lips turned into a large pout, and Jisung almost scolds him for acting like such a spoiled brat. Which in ways, he was- even before stepping into the palace.

"Is anything wrong?" Jisung arches an eyebrow, eyeing the royal garments hung on a wooden post in the center of the room, ways in front of Minho. Jisung leans over, inspecting the clothing from all sides. It was a royal blue, similar to Jisung's in color, with gold weaved throughout the collar and the belt. "I don't see any holes."

"That's not it," Minho scratches his head as he shot to his feet. Jisung leaned back when Minho approached him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him lightly that the thief felt as if his chest would explode. He swallowed down a squeak when his eyes looked up at Minho, unconsciously holding his breath. "I feel like I'm going against everything I stood for by wearing this."

"But you've always been a prince," Jisung breathes out, gripping his sword scabbard tighter when Minho leans closer with narrowed eyes. "Isn't this- isn't this just returning to your roots?"

"Hardly. My roots were being a stubborn brat," Minho huffs, turning with crossed arms. "Wait-"

"C'mon." Settling his sword against the wall, Jisung carefully lifts the garments off of the rack, heading to Minho who took multiple steps back from Jisung's one step and holding up his hands in defense with knitted eyebrows and a scowl.

"I can do it myself-" 

"Right, but will you?" Jisung shot back, Minho scoffing with a small roll of his eyes. "I used to be a personal guard to the late crown prince back in Silla. I know how to dress a prince. It's not Silla customs, but it should be similar."

Minho notices Jisung's gaze lower a little, his grip on the garments tightening slightly. But he glances back up at Minho, with an even brighter smile that the older absolutely gives into. With arms extended straight out, Jisung walks behind Minho, the first layer of the royal garments slipping over his shoulders before returning to the front and smoothing out the fabric there.