notlettuce

Kim Mingyu and Xu Minghao are arranged to become parabatai in a political marriage arranged by Mingyu’s parents to enhance the relationship between the Seoul and Beijing institutes. Despite the impossibility of choosing a parabatai before you’ve even trained together, Mingyu’s parents expect nothing but a perfect outcome. As always.

They don’t care about the disowned shadowhunter Minghao lives with. The man who treats downworlders like equals. The man who asked for Xu Minghao’s hand in marriage and was turned down by the Clave for his shameful exit from their ranks.

Mingyu doesn’t know what he’s going to find in their small house in the country; where he will fit within a relationship he has no right to intrude upon.

But this his duty, his birthright. He will make it work. Whatever it takes.

(G / 1738 words)

chapter one: fulfilment of duty

Mingyu walks into the office when he is prompted and stands in front of his father’s desk with his hands clasped behind his back. There is no warmth to be found in the way his father waves him out of his soldier’s posture. He is not here as a son. He rarely is.

“We are temporarily pulling you out of your duties,” says his father, not making eye contact. “Your mother and I have found a solution to the wavering ties with the Beijing Institute.”

Mingyu frowns. “But I’m in the middle of an investigation. We just made a huge breakthrough—you said I could follow up with the eastern covens about the rogue younglings. Everything is in place.”

“Then it should be an easy handover.” His father finishes signing the papers in front of him and looks up, expression blank. “You can brief Jihoon and Soonyoung tonight. They will see it through. Two hunters is always better than one, hm?”

Mingyu remembers his training: never rise to the bait. His teeth hold his words hostage, tongue trapped between them. “Of course,” he nods.

“Good.” His father hands him the stack of papers. “Here is your assignment. You are not to return to the Institute until it has been completed.”

Mingyu scans the order quickly, and then again, slower, unable to believe what is written. Surely there is some kind of mistake. He looks at his father, confused.

“What does Xu Minghao have to do with this?”

“He is to be your parabatai.”

The words are like a slap to the face. Mingyu can’t help the shock from bleeding through. “How? We’ve never—I’ve only met him once in my life. People train for years together and still fail in their ceremonies!” He reads a line from the order aloud, “Kim Mingyu and Xu Minghao are to train together before committing to a parabatai ceremony on the eve of the winter solstice. That’s less than six months away. It’s impossible.”

“Are you telling me you cannot do it?” his father asks, voice cold.

Mingyu instantly settles into submission. “No, I can do it.” His voice lowers. “Sorry.”

His father brightens, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded over his stomach. “You will leave tomorrow. We have arranged a portal for you at dawn.”

“To Beijing?”

“No—“ His father scowls. “Somewhere south. The boy lives out in the countryside with Lee Seokmin.”

Now there’s a name Mingyu hasn’t heard in a while. He feels his mouth twist in distaste. His father nods emphatically, always ready to jump at the opportunity to talk down upon someone he deems inferior. Not worth his respect. Mingyu doesn’t like how much he’s picked up the habit.

“Yes it’s unfortunate, but we have to overlook some of the less… desirable elements of this partnership if we want it to work. Do me and your mother a favour and help the Lee boy out, would you? It’s embarrassing to still have his name associated with our Institute, even if we don’t have to see him around anymore.” He grins sharply. “I’m sure you can knock a bit of sense into him.”

Mingyu doesn’t know how to help someone that was disowned by the Clave because of their own stupid decisions. Lee Seokmin is probably too far gone, too corrupted or stupid to be reasoned with. Perhaps the bigger task will be getting along with Minghao while Seokmin lingers nearby. It all sounds very difficult. The shadow of anxiety is already looming and dark, making Mingyu’s heart beat faster and his skin prickle uncomfortably, but this is what he’s used to. He’s been shouldering more than he can comfortably carry ever since he was old enough to wield a seraph blade.

To anyone else, being relieved of your duties in order to find a parabatai would sound like a gift; a vote of confidence. To Mingyu it sounds like, You’re not good enough on your own.

It would sting if it weren’t so expected.

“I’ll do my job well,” he says with a bow.

His father gives him a neutral nod. “There is a lot riding on the success of this partnership, Mingyu. Do not let your family down.”

And with that, Mingyu is dismissed.

***

The Seoul Institute is a tall, imposing building in the heart of the city. It curls towards the polluted sky like a sword drenched in demon blood. Mingyu was fourteen when his family moved from Idris and took formal control of the Institute, and although he never admitted it, the sight of the jet-black windows frightened him for years. It was nothing like the crystal cityscape of Idris, where the buildings refracted the sunlight instead of consuming it. The interiors were slightly less imposing; rich mahogany and jade; touches from his mother along the walls and a decadent chandelier in the main foyer. The carpet was soft underfoot and the training room sat under a ceiling of glass on the top floor—the tip of the blade. There were multiple bedrooms on each floor, and still Mingyu had one chosen for him before they had even set foot inside.

In hindsight, his fear of the building had little to do with its appearance.

He exits his father’s office with measured steps and waits until the elevator doors are closed to slump against the intricate wallpaper with his head in his hands. Less than six months to build a parabatai bond. Mingyu has been assigned plenty of difficult missions over the past six years, but he’d rather take on an entire coven of vampires with no backup than attempt this one. It’s not just impossible, it’s insane—surely there’s an easier way to build a better relationship with the Beijing institute. Mingyu has never heard of anyone taking such extreme measures before. He finds it hard to believe that this kind of incentive trickled down from the Inquisitor, or anyone from Idris for that matter.

The Clave might be power hungry, but they’re clever—clever enough to know that what Mingyu’s father is essentially asking him to do is to fail.

The doors open at the eighth floor. Mingyu follows the corridor all the way to its end, chasing the muted sounds of voices. He can feel himself relaxing the closer he gets, the stress of meeting with his father dripping off his body in chunks until he’s pushing open the library doors with steady hands.

“That was fast,” Soonyoung says. He’s hanging upside down, legs hooked over the exposed beams. His hair—white like the moon—dangles stupidly towards the floor.

Mingyu frowns. “You’re not meant to be up there.”

“I’m training.”

“In the library?”

Soonyoung nods, upside down. His cheeks are a dangerous shade of red.

“Please get down from there, hyung,” Mingyu says. Soonyoung shakes his head like a petulant child. Mingyu sighs and walks over to where Jihoon is curled up in an armchair with an absurdly large grimoire in his lap. He taps his shoulder. “Tell him to get down.”

Jihoon doesn’t even look away from the page. “Get down, Soonyoung,” he says flatly.

“Fine.” Soonyoung flips over and lands cleanly on his feet, hair wild. “How much longer do we have to be here for? I’m bored, Jihoon-ah, let’s get lunch.”

“We’d be out of here quicker if you actually helped,” Jihoon says, turning the page. Soonyoung flops over the arm of the chair like a cat, face inches from Jihoon’s. He pouts when Jihoon doesn’t react to his proximity and resorts to blowing gently into his ear.

Mingyu watches them interact with an old, familiar jealousy. Their friendship clearly goes beyond the runes that bind them, but that’s the point, isn’t it? You can’t be parabatai with someone you don’t care about; someone you don’t know as deeply as they know themselves. Mingyu thinks about how effortlessly Jihoon pulls Soonyoung back to himself—whether he’s acting too hyper at dinnertime or he’s seconds away from getting his spine cleaved in two. How Jihoon didn’t speak a word to anyone for months after he arrived at the Institute, and it was Soonyoung who made him laugh for the first time. Mingyu still remembers the sound; the way the whole table had turned to look at Jihoon with surprise. From that night on, they were inseparable. Mingyu pretended it didn’t bother him to always be the odd one out during training, but it still kept him up at night, slowly seeped into his bones over the years like poison.

He just wanted to be someone’s first choice. Was that so selfish?

Jihoon nudges Mingyu’s ankle with his foot. “Did your father give you the go-ahead for the raid on Monday?”

Mingyu frowns. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Soonyoung says, perking up.

“I’m not…” Mingyu shifts uncomfortably. He thought they’d already been informed of the changes. Of course his parents would leave it up to him to do all the legwork. He sighs. “My father pulled me off the mission.”

“What?” Soonyoung cries. “But you’ve been on it for months! Why the hell would he do that?”

Jihoon rests a placating hand on Soonyoung’s forearm and says, a little more gently, “Did something change?”

“You could say that. My parents have assigned me a parabatai,” Mingyu says bitterly. It sounds so stupid out loud. Clearly, Jihoon and Soonyoung agree—they’re looking at him like he’s sprouted ears all over his body.

“Do you know who it is?” asks Soonyoung.

Shadowhunter circles are small. They’re a dying breed, after all; everyone knows everyone and nothing is a secret. It makes this so much worse.

Mingyu looks at the ceiling when he says, “Xu Minghao.”

“Woah, really?” Soonyoung gasps. He sounds excited. Mingyu sends him a scathing look. He knows Minghao’s reputation just as well as the rest of them. He was the youngest active shadowhunter in two generations. He speaks five languages, wields double seraph blades like he’s the reason they were created, and he defied the Clave for love.

“So it’s a political move,” Jihoon says. Smart boy. Mingyu points at him in agreement. “I knew there were some tensions between the Institutes but it didn’t sound serious enough to warrant something so…”

“Ridiculous? Insane?” Mingyu suggests. “Logistically impossible?”

“I was going to say gradual,” Jihoon says.

“Six months is hardly gradual.”

Soonyoung laughs. “Six months?! To become parabatai? Good fucking luck.”

“Gee, thanks,” Mingyu bites.