3. A brother's heart

San’s fondest memory, out of the 23 years he's lived, could only be of the day he'd realized the treasured place he held to being an older brother.

Growing up the eldest of 2 years, adults often praised his lack of jealousy and entitlement, shockingly uncharacteristic for children his age and especially for royals. This peculiarity grew more noticeable as the attention of his dearest parents and the entire castle centered around the new additions to the royal family. The big-hearted little prince always seemed at ease, happy to watch over his two brothers he adored.

Even if it meant he could only do it from afar.

°❀ ***** ❀。

San never really bothered to precises it in the countless stories he use to tell to the cute Jiwonie, but one thing about their lost prince was that his adorable likeness to cats wasnt only physically, the prince was also a kitten at heart. Refusing to be hugged and touched, the little prince ran away, crying as soon as one merely sat next to him or dared return the curious look in his eyes. Ofcourse, The late Queen was the only excetion to the rule, but he was especially distant to the eldest prince, leaving the 5-year-old to constently ponder and worry to what he did to hurt and displease the one he wished to play with the most.

As shy as the second prince seemed to be, the birth of the youngest, Bok-hwan, brought stars to his eyes. The kitten-like prince in turn yearned to care for and love his younger brother, as much as a 3-year-old could. All the while, the eldest timidly watched over, guilt and shame stuffing is heart. Something had to be wrong within himself.

❀ ***** ❀

One day, entering the castle's playing area, looking for his carved wooden sword, San stumbled upon his younger brother. The small frame was turned away from the door as he played peacefully in the middle of the sunlit room, filled with wooden toys and diffrent rag dolls. As to not disturb the sensible little world, San quietly attempted to slip away, walking backward to the room's exit, sliding lightly across the walls. The eldest prince had resolved on rather finding a sturdy tree branch outside, only to bump his back into his brother's caregiver.

The seemingly restless and shaken woman, who'd also just entered the room, was taken by surprise. He turned to face her, noticing how the frozen woman's gaze eventually softened, calming herself down, San expected her to sho him away, but silence was still overtooking the room. The cargiver rather shifted her eyes to the child playing, leading san's own to unintentionally follow.

The small round child, sun shining through his shining locks, got up onto his two tinny feet making his way to his worn-out wooden rocking horse, which was almost as big as him. Mindlessly pouting lips, letting out soft blabbers as if his dolls conversed on the horse. San loved watching him play, the youngest was always so entranced in his colorful tinny world, like in a bubble under the sunlight. To this day, San still wishes he could be allowed a glimpse into the wonders of the lost child's imagination.

San pulled himself away from his thoughts, making his way back to the garden when the caregiver halted him. She held onto his smaller hands, crouching to his level. Something changed in her expression, she looked calmer, a soft smile concealing her nervousness more confidently. A memory, maybe, tainted by time, yet San could not forget the sincerity in her voice when she asked him :

"Please, will you watch over your brother."

But before Chan even had a chance to decline, wishing to avoid ruining the peaceful dreamland, the maid was already out the door, almost running, grasping tight onto a filled glass file San didn't notice at first.

The eldest prince could only concede to stay, scooting quietly back over to a rocking chair away from his brother's vision field. He sat, watching again the cute one play, this time pulling himself unto the horse, eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed out like an adorable duckling. A wistful smile found its way unto the 5-year-old's expression. Out of a sudden, the 3-year-old lost his balance off the horse, falling onto his face.

Alarmed, San rose from his chair about to comfort his brother before realizing he did hear any cries. Minwoo calmly rose his head up, sitting on his knees, his back lightly shaking, fists tightly grasping his trousers, as if determined not to cry, but San could hear his small sniffers. Unable to contain his fondness at the adorable scene before him, the eldest let out a small chuckle, his feet moving on their own, reaching to comfort the strong smaller prince. Alerted by the steps, Minwoo turned around, eyes watery, as San stood still, afraid of the reaction to come.

The distressed child turned into a mess of tears, crying out his frustration from locking eyes with his scared older brother. San stubbled back, hushing words trying to apologize and reassure him, tears also falling down his face. But before he could even take a second step back, tiny hands found their way around his waist, the momentum toppling them both into a sitting position as the loud cries muffled in the stunned prince's vest.

That day, holding on to each other, equally in tears, he felt his heart swell in warmth, feeling as if it shined out his chest.

That day, San felt complete.