#mage!hyunjin

[chans-room]

If you had to write a fic based on this version, what would you write?

First of all, I’m sorry this sat in my inbox for so long Luce, bc I was desperately trying to force myself to finish the skz as spooky season dates thing but the time is now: and it is has UNLOCKED something in my brain. Just a warning: this will be long.

Edit: after finishing typing all of this out, this is all just exposition/world building bc holy shit the fic if i ever write it is gonna be long 🙃

So this fits perfectly for so many characters in my skz and maybe ateez fantasy au. Jeongin is a Human Prince of the realm, inhabited mostly by various magical beings. His father (dead) put an end to the War between humans and magic, and now the realm is at peace.

The MC is a magical being who grew up in the castle with Jeongin and Jisung, who she feels is like a brother to her because they are the same type of magical being, in an effort to normalize human/magical relations. Everything is great, and Jeongin is set to be crowned King. But! the realm is suddenly threatened lowkey Maleficent style by the ancient Blood Mage Hyunjin, who demands to have audience with the new princeling before he becomes King. But, he also puts a curse on Jisung before he leaves, and says if the truth is not revealed, Ji will die and it will be Jeongin’s fault.

The MC decides to try and find out what Blood Mage Hyunjin meant by saying the truth needs to be revealed, and obviously to save Ji, and ventures into the Fallen, the realm where the war took place that fell to ruin and was abandoned. She goes there to try and find whatever truth needs to be revealed, because Jeongin tells her that he doesn't know anything about what Hyunjin said, and that the truth must be in the Fallen.

Once she gets to the Fallen she realizes everything is not as it seems and she has to unravel the truth to save Jisung, and maybe everyone else too. 😉

[j-a-nuary]

Today's gender envy: Hyunjin’s bangs that aren't really bangs

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x f. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. 12k words

AUG'S NOTES. if there’s ever been a more spontaneous fic in history it would be this… every sentence is write is purely self indulgent…. (genuinely a written version of the stories i make in my head while laying in bed)

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

It’s a fever dream walking into the Kingdom that, compared to yours, looks positively flourishing with life. Beasts of all kinds roam about, carrying on with their daily lives, oblivious to the winds of death they’ve swept your way.

Everything in your body feels as if it’s shutting down, unable to feel the sensation of your legs as you trudge forward, the younger, much kinder Beast ensuring you kept pace.

Freezing temperatures carry on the longer snow falls, gluing strands of hair to your forehead, blanketing your lashes while your nose runs incessantly.

In front of you now lies the castle, far grander than you could’ve ever imagined. Twin spires peek above the low-hanging clouds, stone columns towering above.

From your distance you spot two knights positioned on either side of the entryway, large armored helmets with hawk feathers adorning the ridges.

One knight stops your ascent, the light-haired man rolling his eyes profusely.

“Minho, this is important.”

“Important enough you’re bringing a Mage into the Kingdom?”

His voice smooth as honey, he sports a dominant tone when speaking. Stare observant, he watches the other Beast’s expressions with uncanny precision.

“Because if you haven’t noticed Hyunjin,” He leans forward a bit, whispering. “You have the entire Kingdom’s attention.”

At this, either of the Beasts who escorted you turn around, and upon doing so are met with hundreds, if not thousands of eyes boring into their soul. Whether it’s younger Beasts or aged soldiers, those heinous vermillion orbs seem to see through you.

You gulp.

“C’mon,” Hyunjin harshly beckons, nudging you forward through the gates with the younger quick on his tail.

Every color in the Palace is monochromatically grey, although strikes of royal blue reside in large drapes hung from perched balconies.

Similar guards to those outside sift throughout the room, familiar hawk feathers litter everywhere in sight, paving paths to the core of the room where a throne sits.

Pointed edges flank either side of the massive chair, the ocean blue rug underneath reflecting up and out of the ceiling — a glass design stretching wide across the throne room, emphasizing the dusky weather outside.

According to the younger Beast whose title you learned as Jeongin, the King was currently participating in a hunt with Changbin (the lead hunter of the Palace), so after hasty appreciation of the sheer volume of this breathtaking castle, you’re forced toward the dungeons.

Jeongin wears a pitying frown, promising to return with some food to your chambers in the case the King doesn’t arrive for a while.

At least someone in this Kingdom doesn’t insist you’re beheaded.

“Finally, somebody else is here.”

A voice erupting from the darkening depths to your right make you jump, chained wrists clanging abruptly. Through minimal lighting of the burning lamps hastened upon the walls, you make out the silhouette of a man, face bunching in a sweet manner when he smiles.

Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.

“What’re you in here for?” You begin, gaze narrowed in confusion. The chubby-cheeked stranger smiles haphazardly.

“I would ask you the same thing. I’m the King’s Advisor, he just gets tired of me and puts me in here sometimes,” Your chamber-mate sighs, and once you take in what he professed, the urge to laugh becomes too strong to control.

Laughing for the first time in quite a while is sort of relieving, especially when this new acquaintance of yours begins whining his dismay, aimlessly trying to hush your giggles.

Red eyes. You can see them blinking up at you, gleaming when he grins his pointed teeth.

Quickly pausing, you wait in horror as he gradually sniffs in.

Your stomach sinks.

“Wait… You’re a Mag—“

His phrase is cut off by a loud ringing noise, a familiar echo of keys tunneling down the dungeons stairwell.

Another stranger unlocks the door. He’s burly, with curly hair in disarray. Cuffs of animal fur wraps around defined biceps, his top a tight-fitted arrangement of fur and woven leather paired with small iron spikes studding the shoulder lining.

A scar passes down the corner of his lip, long since healed but remaining faded.

“C’mere,” He ushers, voice gruff and rumbling when he unlocks your shackles, big hand pushing you forward up the stairs.

If anybody here had pure Beast in their bloodline, it would be this man. His demeanor is rough, but his touch on your back is surprisingly gentle whilst guiding you upward.

Again you’re granted with the wondrous sight of the Throne Room in all its historic glory, although your gaze directed at the floor keeps you ignorant to so many heads bowed, so many voices cast to silence upon the click of footsteps approaching.

And when you look up, you meet strikingly blue eyes—perhaps a genetic mutation of a sort.

They’re stunning, enrapturing almost, and you find the need to break eye contact immediate, more dire than normal while staring down at you.

Plump, full lips and perfectly sculpted facial features seem that of a Greek god’s, too ethereal to exist in your reality. A glittering, silver crown sits stark atop a black nest of hair.

Either arm rests on the sides of the throne, and you swore you’d never seen someone look so, King-like. That, and the massive cape of wolf-skin draped over his back.

A devil, dressed as an angel.

“Your Highness, this Mage was found near the L/N Kingdom by Hwang Hyunjin and Yang Jeongin while scouting the territory.” A palace-woman announces, the same guard who lingered outside, Minho, standing to your side.

Your blood boils, disregarding every ounce of amazement once inhabited.

It’s him. The man responsible for the demise of loved ones you couldn’t count on all of your fingers and toes.

Minho, as if sensing your frothing rage, mutters through his helmet a staggered warning—remaining upright and unmoving at attention.

“Do not move and do not look into his eyes unless you’re asking for death.”

Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.

You can’t remember the last time you were genuinely angry. You were happy, surrounded by people you loved.

Those people weren’t here now, they were killed.

“You murderer! You’re a—“ Your attempt at lashing out at the King stalled when Minho kicks the crevice between your knees, forcing you down on the carpet below.

“Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”

Palace representatives gasp their bewilderment, some beckoning you away to the dungeons, others urging Minho to end you right here and now.

It wouldn’t matter, would it?

The King’s raised hand stalls the accusations, his familiar clicking footsteps nearing closer till he stands before you.

Shifting down into a squat, the man tips your chin up to meet cerulean again, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Don’t get it mixed up little one,” He murmurs, the pad of his thumb controlling your movement.

“I did not kill your family. Your family killed themselves.”

Fist sharply winding around for a punch, he catches it before you can even register your predicament, iron grip strong enough you fear he might just snap your wrist in half.

“And I wouldn’t recommend fighting back, otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Concluding his threat the further he bends your wrist, you whine, face scrunching from the pain until he finally stops, amusedly surveying your expression.

Denying your own enraged shaking, you suck your teeth, focus vehemently pinned onto him.

“Why would you care about my safety?” You snarl, trying to wriggle his hold off to no avail.

“Because,” The King cocks his brows. “I like you.”

About to spit another word, he interrupts you, index tracing the veins of your arm.

“Plus, I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.”

You shiver.

Your second day and you feel as if you’re officially going insane.

The only person tolerable here is Jeongin, that chamber guard whose name you don’t know, and Felix, the castles cook. You barely see the King, and even when he’s present he’s usually quartered in his study.

What he does there remains unknown, information learned in the mere form of startled maids leaving the room and gossip among those wandering the Kingdom.

“Do you know what he does?”

Felix looks up from the dish he was laying in front of you, wispy blond locks bouncing with the movement.

“Does what?” He piques, ridding a stray piece of hair clinging to your sleeve.

“The King, what does he do all day long?”

One thing about Felix you love, his honesty. Regardless of if most would tell a quick fib and flee, Felix, although occasionally working around a topic, takes the time to actually explain things to you.

Allows you to learn more of the place you’re going to have to call home.

“Hm..” He pulls a chair from your right to drop into, and for a moment, you see Ms. Maewether in that smile of his. Your heart aches.

“Chris— I mean, King Bahng is always busy. He plans trade agreements, oversees the hunts, and basically keeps this castle alive.”

Chris?

“Who’s Chris?”

Felix nearly squeaks, burying his head in his hands. Evidently, you weren’t supposed to hear that part, but an eagerness to know more about this solitary King kept your hesitance at bay.

“That’s his name. Christopher Bahng, but you’re not allowed to call him that and not allowed to tell anyone about us having this conversa-“

“Tell who?”

You quite literally almost fall backwards in your seat, failing to anticipate the pair of hands placed on Felix’s shoulders.

A pair of hands, followed by a pair of ocean blue eyes, boring right into you and the horrified boy in front of you.

King Bahng. In the flesh.

“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”

Again he corrects. These two must know each other.

“Tell who, Felix?” He speaks, tone nothing short of teasing—though the boy looks just as startled, practically sweating through his clothing.

Still adorning that flanking wolf-cape of his, his dark hair is slightly messy, expression distorted curiously.

You hate him to admit, but King Bahng is horribly attractive.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, Your Highness,” Felix chirps, fixing you with a ‘Don’t say a word’ glare you cease to argue with.

Rising up from your seat quickly as if you had any duties in this Kingdom to tend to, you find yourself stalling.

You have so many questions. …And the overwhelming urge to slap him across the face.

You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.

“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”

The last words come out involuntary, used to referring to your own father this way. It made you sick to know you regarded his murderer the same.

And though the King didn’t stand extremely tall (considering how young Beasts were already your height), his hulking stature felt as if it could swallow you whole, pointed canines flashing when he smiled, sending your head reeling.

Pleased.

King Bahng was pleased hearing something nonthreatening come out of your mouth.

Vile.

Yet, you simply curtsied and hurried off, ceasing to notice the immediate growl Felix directed in the King’s direction.

“Good lord, I know she smells good but you’re practically undressing her with your eyes,” The freckled boy grumbles, returned with an uninterested expression from his friend.

Before the King can head off to whatever meeting he has planned, however, he spins on his heel.

“Have you consulted Seungmin about the scent-blocking salve?”

“Possessive, are we?”

His glare shuts the cook up immediately.

“If there is one Mage left, it’s mine. And since she’s the survivor, she’s mine.”

Yeah, he’s not beating the possessive allegations. But if he’s going to gain your trust, and eventually, after much thought, become mates, he’s keeping every other Beast in the Kingdom at a distance from you at all times.

“Jeongin will report when it’s completed. And Chris?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”

King Bahng hums.

“I don’t.”

And with that, Felix follows your exit, leaving the King to his own devices, your nectar-sweet smell lingering in his nose.

“If I stare at the same wall for hours and hours, shouldn’t it break by now?”

“You’re a Mage, not telekinetic,” Han replies, repetitively scanning over a piece of parchment assumed to be a guest list.

In the midst of your incessant boredom, you found yourself following the King’s Advisor around, peering over his shoulder at the endless list of haughty names written in languid ink strokes. 

Amongst them, you ceased to find your father’s name. You knew it wouldn’t be there, but somehow, you wished if you blinked enough it would magically appear. 

King L/N, written in that same, cursive font. 

Rounding a corner, you conclude if there’s anyone you avoid more than King Bahng (a.k.a Chris), it was Hyunjin. That man was a serpent in a Beast’s body.

Catching sight of his dreaded ponytail, you hastily retrace your steps, hiding behind a massive doorframe while Han stares at you as if you’re a rodent scurrying at his shoes.

“He won’t bite y’know.”

“If only you would’ve been there when he first found me,” You whisper angrily, practically clawing at the wood desperately till he leaches you out.

Leaching enough, in fact, that you end up right in Hyunjin’s line of sight, who surveys you up and down with a cocked brow to the point you’re sure steam is billowing from your ears. 

Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.

He does bite. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and tears. 

You won’t bleed without biting back. 

Han’s iron grip tightens on your arm as slowly, oh so slowly, Hyunjin walks closer. 

The strategist prowls, edging right up in your face—noses a thread-width apart.  

His glower sets your fury alight, lips curled in a deriding notion.

“No need to glare, wouldn’t want wrinkles ruining that face of yours.”

“No need to get so close unless you plan to kiss me, mutt.”

Though, just as Hyunjin preapres to lunge, a big hand holds him back, animal fur cuffs indicating it isn’t the King who stepped in.

The man who had fetched you from the chambers earlier divided either of you. Shorter, but evidently stronger. 

“Control yourselves, both of you. For as long as she stays in the Kingdom, she’s The King’s property—“

“I am no one’s property,” You snarl, and the guard turns.

Basked in clear lighting, you can finally see him. Honing dark brown hair hanging above his eyebrows, the same scar resides by his mouth, though, his eyes are much kinder than you expected.

Taking a slow inhale, he reads your conflicted expression like an ornate mirror.

“One mage in the Kingdom of Beasts? Sorry to break it to you, but yes, you are his property. So as long as she’s here, nobody lays a finger on her, understood?”

Glancing to each person, either of them ease their apprehension, the bewildered Jisung next to you stifling a breath, Hyunjin rolling his eyes with a loud huff.

Baiting seconds pass, and in that period of time do you realize you never caught his name. Specifically, the guard’s name.

“Excuse m-“

“Seo Changbin,” Han interjects. “His name is Seo Changbin.”

Ah. Right.

Now on the roster of least-likely to kill you, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Han.

Filled with a need to evade, you stand merely as a spectator as each horridly red hue snaps to stare at you, your heart spiking an alarming rate. 

The King’s Advisor’s fingers tighten to the point you’re sure he’s blocking blood flow.   

“You need to leave. Jisung, get in contact with Seungmin and see when the salve is done,” Changbin instructs, already shoving Hyunjin away.

Salve. What salve?

Failing to give you any explanation, you’re dragged off, boisterously complaining before the highly annoyed man abruptly pauses, finger nudging your forehead irritably.  

“You smell.”

Then he leaves, and you’re left to wonder if you’re still in primary school or the Kingdom of Beasts.

You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?

First thing in the morning, you’re torn from your slumber with a blazing sun scorching your eyes.

Your canopy beds silken drapes doing little to block the attack, you whine to an apologetic Jisung who merely sighs in return.

“Sorry sleeping beauty, but we have an appointment to attend this morning. Can you handle getting dressed on your own?”

You roll your eyes, groggily pulling yourself upright. “I was an heiress, not helpless.” 

To which he cracks a miniature grin and slips out the door, allowing you to hurriedly strip off your chemise and messily arrange your stays and petticoats.

Out of all things you’d been deprived of, a part of the L/N Clan unable to be divided was your garments.  

Somewhere, in the midst of fabric and citrus scented soap, you swear you can still smell bits and pieces of home.

What this appointment entailed you failed to ask, gingerly hustled down winding hallways barely illuminated with sunlight. 

The Kings Advisor expertly winds further and further down, georgian architecture littered in symmetrical golden portraits and decorum, casement glass windows twinkling as you walked past. 

Having reached a dead end, you’re pleasantly surprised to watch Han jar a brass doorknob open, paving a breathtaking view of the garden ahead. 

Garden had to be an understatement. This amount of foliage was nothing short of a forest. 

Flowers of all kind surround your walk to a shrouded greenhouse, abnormally brick relative to it’s stone-castle counterpart. Its walls are overgrown in slithering vines, door nearly invisible without proper inspection.

Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.

Granted, it’s been years since you’d seen any form of green vegetation, your astonishment felt justified. 

“We’ve arrived.”

Oh how you wish to stay here forever. Not captive by the Beast Clan, no, but in this garden, hidden.

And if the last door took effort to pry open, this was a new challenge entirely. Through thickets of dense hedge and tangled branches, Jisung had to quite literally ram himself into the chittering wood for entry.

“Knock next time would you?” A voice projects from inside, belonging to a man clad in rounded spectacles, a slightly hooked nose, and cleanly hair parted to the side. 

The Kings Advisor, apparently having known him, beams his prize-winning smile upon seeing the man.

“Seungminnnn—“ Han drawls out, excitedly waddling over to wrap him in a crushing hug. Stiffly, Seungmin pats his back, an action you fondly watch from afar. 

“Ah!” The more ebullient of the two springs up, turning to you. “This is Seungmin, he runs the apothecary here.” 

Nodding stiffly, Seungmin ushers you to one of the many mahogany chairs circling a gateleg table; a vase—likely jade with its pale green hue—filled with indigo hydrangea presides in the center.

“And,” Han’s outburst cuts off your awe. “He’s practically my little brother.”

Now you’re in awe again, but for a different reason. And by the evident frown on Seungmin’s face, he can tell.

“Shocking, right?”

Yes, shocking for certain.

Though, before you can reply, Han slaps his hands on either of the man’s shoulders, expression transformed into one of seriousness. 

“About time I left then, yeah?” Was spoken while his form hurriedly retreated out the door, leaving you with more questions than answers to what just occurred.

“..He forgot something again.”

Biting back your laugh, you finally take a seat, given ample time as Seungmin shuffles off to the side to acknowledge your everything to its fullest extent. 

Matching the plant-infested interior, verdant drawers scatter the corners, a lone, looming medicinal cabinet left ajar as the chemist poured over a variety of assorted concoctions. 

Air stained with a damp smell of earth, you notice, much to your curiosity, the longevity of such a place.

This apothecary, though inside the castle, feels like an entirely new settlement of its own. An establishment existing before the war, rebuilt (inefficiently) enough to where it was only required to stand stable.

From first sighting you’d grown an attachment to it, but this newfound understanding, these newfound details setting the apothecary apart from your predicament let you imagine yourself anywhere else, back to a nostalgia you longed for.

A short term fix.

“This.” You’re handed a phial from overhead. It’s a slightly green substance, thicker in texture that rests heavy in your hand. “Is for you.”

Slipping across from you, he surveys your analyzing, arms crossed over a deep brown waistcoat.

“And this is..?” You inquire, looking up from the cork-sealed glass.

“A salve. You had better not waste it, material is low as is and I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.”

Well that didn’t answer your question. You’ve heard conversation about a specific salve for days on end, but no genuine explanation caved in—

‘I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.’

Repeatedly mulling over the words, you can practically feel your heart palpitating, head beginning to spin. 

..End already? The endless winter.. ending?

“So you’re saying,” You murmur, placing down this special salve in order to truly regard him.

“There’s a way to end the Endless Winter?”

His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.

“There’s an end to everything sweetheart. Life, death. Start, finish. War,” He meets your eyes with a conniving grin, a face you hadn’t seen on the man before.

“Peace.”

Automatically, you roll your eyes. 

Peace? Peace when there was no peace left to be made, no kingdom remaining to make peace with?

“And how do you think the nonexistent Mage will make peace with Beasts?”

Seungmin grins.

“Well there is a Mage left,” He scornfully states, flicking your forehead whilst you palm the sting, frown evident. 

“And as far as making peace goes, marriage.”

Marriage. 

What.

“Wait- so you’re telling me big bad King Bahng could’ve just hooked up with a Mage and called it a day and everything would be fine?”

Seungmin clears his throat.

“One, Bahng doesn’t ‘hook up’. Two, it’s not as easy as that.”

Of course it’s not as easy as that. Why would it be?

You wish to claw your eyes out of your head, anticipating his explanation. 

“Because if you weren’t aware before, marriage ties between Mage and Beast are very difficult to establish. Bahng is picky on everything, and even pickier when it comes to mates.”

But before you can argue there were thousands of suitors roaming the L/N Kingdom for him to pick from, Seungmin interrupts. 

“Plus, if anyone else were King I’m sure we would’ve had peace decades ago. You’re lucky you’re in the castle right now, otherwise you would be eaten alive.”

Your face scrunching worriedly, he rakes an exasperated hand through his hair, plopping down on the vanity’s chair.

“Your scent.”

Again, you’re reminded of Han’s ‘you smell’ comment. Why is it showing up a second time?

He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.

You don’t.

“Mage have specific scents. You can’t smell it since you’re not Beast. But let me tell you, you smell fucking delightful.”

Oh.

That’s what he meant by eaten alive, and the entire ‘you smell’ conundrum.

Seungmin, rather entertained with the shock written on your face, shrugs his shoulders, nonplussed by the crassness of his earlier statement.

“Now you get the use of the salve, right? And why you’re not allowed to leave the castle?” 

Your mouth feels dry of response, beckoned toward the exit without so much as a peep passing through your lips.

However, right as the you’re halfway gone, he stops you, brows cocked.

“Do us all a favor and marry him, will you?”

And like that, the apothecary’s door thumps closed behind you.

If only the “him” he was referring to wasn’t King Bahng, you might’ve agreed.

Marriage in the L/N Kingdom had been a sacred event.

An event you’d been prepared for since childhood, fed daydreams of a day you would be married to a prince-like man with perfect features and a perfect personality, every element fabricated from a young age.

Truly, you loved it. Loved visualizing a life shared with your loved one, whoever that man would be.

Little did you know he might just be King of the Beast Clan.

No. You refused. Marrying a murderer, the murderer of your family, was the last thing you would oblige to. 

He sent the command, he led the attack, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of marriage.

Although, one problem. Similar to life back at the L/N Kingdom, supplies only lasted for some time before shipments became low, and pretty soon (according to Seungmin) the salve you were given would run dry. 

Meaning, your meager chance of protection lay completely exposed, susceptible to any Beast daring enough to try something.

Two sides of a coin remained. Heads, you marry the murderer of a King and spring returns, or tails, you abstain and are eventually left vulnerable.

You’ve always been the person to confront a difficulty head-on, but, in this case, a different, defensive approach crossed your mind.

Run away. 

Despite Seungmin’s sensible reminder to not leave the castle, what other option sounded suitable? 

Die physically or mentally, pick your poison. 

Or maybe, never drink the poison in the first place. Evade.

Three days have passed since you received the salve, and after applying it behind your ears and between your elbows at dawn, you were free to do as you pleased—within the castle walls. 

Yet, tomorrow’s dawn would be divergent. Tomorrow, you would be days away from the Beast Clan. 

Sneakily roaming around, you managed to find certain outlets to your disposal. Nearby the chambers you’d been kept in was a moth eaten, hooded cloak seemingly unworn for quite awhile. Ideal for an anonymous escape.

Furthermore, amongst the colloquy during a dinner with Changbin and Felix in the Great Hall, you distinctly recall overhearing information about the stables.

If you were to flee, you needed a horse, and thanks to the guard, you knew right where to find one.

Unable to sleep the night before, your dry eyes blink through the dense darkness, sweeping the candlestick from your side table for a minimal source of vision.

Lathering a copious amount of salve all over your skin, you slip down the winding stairwell, grateful for the shadowed moonlight gazing down upon the Throne Room as you venture.

Bingo. There’s the cloak.

Sweeping the fabric over your shoulders, you slip the hood over your head, creeping down the steep steps leading into a surrounding ward.

On your left, across the butcher’s vendors. 

Blindly searching, the whinny of a mare alerts your close distance, carefully winding through lead ropes and linked fences to the first horse in sight. 

You have to be fast, the sun will rise at any moment it pleases, and it’s impertinent you’re gone by then.

Hoisting a mere saddle pad over the back, you deem the saddle too noisy, slipping the reins overheard and adjusting their length accordingly. 

Jogging forwards, you’re brisk to gain a running leap atop the horse prior to the thunder of hooves charging forward.

Closer to the gatehouse you near, a luckily open drawbridge allowing easy passage across. 

Faster, faster. You can’t afford to slow down. Daylight is beginning to peer above the horizon, warming your back with rays of sunlight amongst a snowy landscape.

And when the kingdom wakes up, it’ll be as if you were never there. 

But, an undecided factor stayed. Where would you go? There was no kingdom left for you, no home to go to.

For now, you needed to prioritize finding a hiding spot, if only for a night, that supplies warmth.

Given the opportunity, too long out here and you or your horse will indefinitely succumb to the frigid conditions.

Veering off sharply, you sidle beneath a barren magnolia tree, its thick trunk barely blocking the unforgiving wind. Pretty soon you’ll have to keep on, but for now, you’ll savor the temporary peace.

Blue skies indicate it must be nearing morning, and you assume the castle will be slowly waking up. By now, King Bahng would likely be awake as well, you’ve been told he doesn’t sleep well anyway. 

Scouts. He’ll send scouts most likely. Knights like Minho or Hyunjin.

Ugh, the mere thought of Hyunjin finding you a second time makes you nauseous. 

Except, the longer you consider it, King Bahng is the worst case scenario.  

I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.

Those words send an entourage of chills slithering up your spine, and not from the cold.

Because while Hyunjin is a type of spiteful strong you want to avoid primarily due to how annoying it is, King Bahng is a quiet strong, the kind that wouldn’t confess his anger, but have you witness it firsthand instead.

Enough thinking. You have to go. 

Using the bumpy roots below you for leverage, you wind a leg around the horse’s back, aiming to reach the edge of the territory before midday.

That was the goal, until you’re pummeling to the ground.

The moment is instantaneous, your horse releasing a shriek as it’s swiped right off its feet, slipping onto hard, icy ground and simultaneously crushing you in its descent. 

Almost like vomit you feel the screech of pain building in your throat, a numbness in your right leg along with the warmth of blood soaking your clothing doing little to sustain level breathing.

Then, in the midst of your hysterics, you look upon the visible side of your horse, a pair of claw marks scratched right across its stomach.

Scrambling out to the best of your abilities, you bite your tongue, praying this is one of Hyunjin’s sick, sadistic games and not an obvious ambush.

You refuse to die like this. You’ve survived once and you’ll be damned to give up now.

“I’m impressed. You’re not as weak as I thought.”

A sneering tone speaks from behind you. According to the claw marks, Beast, but not one you remember. And with your current state—being unable to rise to your feet—you’re utterly incapable of ascertaining an identity.

Instantly, your hand reaches up to trace the alcove beneath your ear and neck, any ounce of hope disappearing upon feeling for the salve. 

Gone.

“Now, care to tell me what a Mage is doing in Beast territory?”

He’s hiding behind you on purpose, drawing you into a sensory overload, a panicked frenzy of adrenaline and fear. 

Deer caught in headlights. 

A curved claw unlike those in the Kingdom of Beasts winds your head back, staring straight into the face of something you can hardly deem Beast, more like wolf.

He has this terrifying look in his eyes, and breath that stenches of metal and flesh.

This man is the kind of Beast you’d grown up believing in. Violent, merciless.

Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please. 

As if second instinct, you assess everything around you, snatching the closest stick to you and jarring the sharp end through the bottom of his chin with all your might.

A gagged, sort of howling sound emits from above you, putrid-smelling blood spraying all over your face. 

In split seconds does another form appear in your peripheral, your dread heightening before ultramarine stills the horror in its tracks.

King Bahng. 

He’s quiet, expertly slicing the back of the neck, the attacker dropping to the ground motionlessly.

“I could’ve handled it myself.”

It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.

If the first Beast hadn’t killed you, he certainly would. He said it himself, whenever he pleased, he could break you.

So when King Bahng’s arms extend toward your position on the ground, you prepare for the worst, crawling backwards as quickly as possible.

Surprisingly, he kneels down in front of you, and, as your vision clears, you notice the concern written on his face. 

Weird, the feeling compiling in your gut as he looks at you like that. The way your eyes build with tears, lungs finally hacking for as much non-congested air available without a single word said.

Just by his expression alone, you’re a fit of blood and tears, the aftershock hardly helping ease the experience. 

Crying, in the middle of a forest, with King Bahng as a witness.

“I know, I know,” Is all he whispers, and you barely recognize when he hoists you into his arms, the searing sting of your leg your only indication of movement. 

Smoothly maneuvering you again his chest, he cradles your body close, one hand directing his horse as you ride back to what you assume to be the Kingdom. 

Through the aching pain, you can’t even be upset about returning, merely focusing on the subtle warmth of his body and the strength willing you to say something. 

“You speak nothing of this moment,” You murmur, the King’s body erupting into a tremor of laughter. 

“I speak whatever I like whenever I like, sweetness. No one touches what’s mine, yeah?”

Mine. You hate the effect he has on you. 

Yet, your snarky remarks are depleting in tandem with your energy; the soothing, shushing sound he’s making and the repetitive thump of hooves doing little to keep you from sleeps tempting beckon. 

Eyes drifting closed, his tightened grip pulls you closer, your cheek smushed into the fabric of his coat whilst lost in slumber.

“Hold on a bit longer for me, we’ll be there in no time.”

Recovery, to your luck, is swift. Either that, or Kim Seungmin is secretly a Mage, because within a week spent off your leg, you’re back to normal. 

A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.

Initially, despite the agony blazing through your body, you were thankful you barely recalled seeing anyone, swept into the apothecary immediately. 

The last thing you wanted to see after returning would be the faces. Plus, what about your friends? Jeongin, Felix, Han? You’re sure they looked destroyed. 

Except, it’s all fake. A feign kindness given to you only by sympathy. What do the faces matter anyway? 

You gorge that question to the very back of your throat when said Cook walks through the apothecary’s door, utmost apprehension apparent. He grabs your face, brows knit—but not in an angry sort of way, more like staving-down-tears. 

“Don’t you ever do something like that ever again.”

Past him, you can’t help but smile seeing Seungmin’s softened expression watching Felix, adoring his preciousness just as you are. 

“I promise.”

Nodding curtly, he turns around, leaving you to view the many ingredients scattered across his apron. 

He rushed here, cute.

“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

Craning, you can barely make out his deep voice, lowered to a nearly inaudible decibel. Ears flushed pink, you’re filled with a worrisome amount of happiness seeing Felix’s embarrassment trying to maintain an upset facade.

“Hm? What was that?”

Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.

“I said I’ll bring breakfast down here.” 

Precipitously slipping outside, both you and Seungmin are left to stifle your bubbling laughter, graced with the most appetizing platter you’ve had the pleasure of eating a few minutes later.

However merciful those first few days were, dissipated. And in a short amount of time, you could feel the eyes boring into your back, the questions resting on the tip of tongues.

All the same, nobody mentioned it. And if anything, that made the paranoia grow. 

It was gradual. The subtle shadow you swore you saw in corners, the terror stopping your heart in your chest when you swear someone breathed down your neck. 

Your body may be healed, but your mind certainly isn’t.

To a degree that two weeks later, you’ve found sleep nearly impossible, lingering in the kitchen in the wee hours of morning, teetering on your wits end.

Some occasions it’s Felix who you see first, wiping the sleep from his eyes, loading coal into the furnaces to heat the kitchen for the day. Other days it’s handmaids, shuffling around busily, carrying goods to and fro.

This time, Minho arrives first, for once wearing regular clothing opposed to his usual armor, steaming saucer in clutch. 

Perhaps this is an opportunity, he is a knight after all.

“Hey Minho?”

Tired eyes sweep to your figure on the table, the rim of his cup held to his lips.

“I’m too paranoid and at this point I might die of sleep deprivation,” You huff, referring to his raging, bed-headed self . “…Could you teach me how to use a sword?”

He’s staring at you like you‘ve grown two heads, pulling a chair back to settle in, arms crossed over his chest. 

No sentences need to be said aloud, merely spectating the gears turning in his head enough to set your nerves on edge. 

Yet, in the midst of your waiting, you note a peculiar bruise peeking from his collarbone, another lingering a tad bit lower. 

“And you think a sword is going to protect you?”

The question is genuine, lacking the bemused nature you were expecting.

Another thing you’ve noted throughout your sleepless nights was the continuous amount of times you’d watch the King’s Advisor sneak into his quarters, a realization keeping your response baited.

Seems his love life isn’t a concern.

“Hey, those marks on your neck and shoulder, are those from Ha—“

“When do you want to train.”

All lightheartedness vanishing, you have to chew your lip to avoid ticking him off further by giggling.

“Tomorrow?”

Pushing in his chair with an agreeable hum, you merely whisper a hurried “Thank you” he grunts at, rushing off to who knows where and giving you leeway to recover from the hilarity of it all.

Tomorrow, however, came far too early, not anticipating to be woken up at the crack of dawn, grumpy enough the prospect of blackmailing the King’s Advisor became dangerously tempting. 

Yeah, good luck. He’s not budging until you’re on your feet. 

Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.

Rushed into a loose gown, you’re led to the Inner Ward, an open sector in the middle of the castle. 

Upon being met with a too-smug Minho, you can practically see the word “payback” hovering above his head, busying himself with fetching supplies.

Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.

Ouch.

Except, you’re puzzled. You’re being taught how to deul, yet your teacher isn’t adorning armor nor gear of any kind.  

At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.

“First, we learn how to properly move.” He hands you a wooden sword. “If I so much as leave a scratch on you I’m as good as dead.”

Again, he may appear snarky, but his tone is nothing short of serious. Minho is hard to read.

Wait.

Seeing past your panic, the Beast seems to answer your unspoken question.

“King Bahng is visiting the villages today, he won’t be back till the evening.”

A wave of relief grounds your bones, standing rather pathetically while Minho aids in critiquing your position, instinctively shifting into his own in front of you.

“Now, there are a lot of things to consider when dueling. I’ll narrow things down. Don’t overestimate or underestimate your opponent, trust your gut, be aware of everything, and lastly, do not be afraid to deceive.”

Promptly, he’s lashing out before you can even process his advice, wooden weapon drawn above his head as your grip tightens, attempting to block the strike only for his foot to press into your stomach, sending you falling right onto the ground instead. 

“Isn’t that unfai—“

“Like I said, deception is your greatest weapon. In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.”

He reaches a hand out for you to take, helping you back up again only to both fall back into your stances. 

“Keep in mind, your sword isn’t your only weapon.”

Minding his instruction, you continue onward, sparring heartily till the beating afternoon sun becomes too hot to bask in any longer. Amongst the four hours you had been consumed in training, you’ve snagged certain valuable points.

Calmness is crucial. Your mind streams clearer when you parried, void to the opponent’s increasing frustration—given an advantage of both agility and focus. 

Two, unpredictability is a gift. Minho is especially good at being unpredictable. 

Whether he charges headfirst or aims the forte of his sword toward particularly weak points, you begin to mimic his performance, growing closer and closer to conquering those signature tactics.

Of course, your enjoyment can only last for a bit before it spoils. 

Spoiling as in, Hwang Hyunjin’s random appearance, sauntering into the area as if he’s King himself.

“Well look at this, didn’t think I’d see our runaway and Minho here.”

There’s an air between Minho and Hyunjin, one that forbids Hyunjin from egging his superior on, just like when you were first brought to the Kingdom. Lucky for you, you could be degraded as much as he approved of.  

Feigning a dramatic gasp, he gestures to either wooden sword held in raw palms.

“No way, you’re learning how to deul?! Don’t tell me you’ve never learned basic attacks? Oh right, you never had to fight, huh, princess?”

You bite the skin of your cheek, minding your composure.

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

Now he’s asking for it. 

“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”

Keeping Minho from intervening, you apologetically nod to his disproving expression. He knows it’s stupid, even while fetching his armor and adjusting the metal plating to your body, and you do too, but you can’t afford to back down, you won’t.

Testing your abilities carrying a legitimate sword this time, Minho grants Hyunjin a terse scowl, their own wordless agreement to tone down on anything too harmful.

Somehow, it grates your nerves further.

Straight away, he charges his right foot forward, the metal colliding with a loud ring, narrowing your body to shield your unprotected side.

Hyunjin, though skillful in his wrist mobility, clearly uses his size compared to you as an advantage, carelessly throwing around his jabs whilst relying on form alone.

You shuffle back and forth continuously, the commotion of metal rifle drawing the attention of Beasts alike throughout the castle, stopping their movements to survey.

Lurching himself forward once more, you will your legs to support you, balancing the crushing force of his pushing ascent with as much strength as possible.

“If you win, you get whatever sensible award you want,” He grits, using pure weight alone to gain higher vantage. “But if I win, you marry King Bahng.”

Suddenly, interrupting your stunned reaction to his proposal, Minho’s reminder breaches your eardrums.

Deception is your greatest weapon.

Honestly, you’re bewildered Hyunjin hadn’t played petty thus far, and you have no doubt he will any moment now. 

You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.

Maintaining your gaze targeted on his face, you steal the chance, slipping your sword right beneath his feet, hooking the guard just fast enough to cause his legs to buckle. 

The tip of your sword centimeters from his neck, you cock your brows, finding satisfaction in the glare he’s boring into your skin from his spot on the ground.

In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.

“If King Bahng wishes to marry me, he will deul me himself. That decision isn’t up to you.”

Stalling his immediate laughter upon nudging the sharp point right up against his pulse point, you chuckle.

“I might have to do this more often, you’re not bad when you shut your mouth for once.”

Dropping your sword, you reach out a customary hand he rejects, either of you following Minho to the side stalls to return his armory before a haunting voice stops you in your tracks.

“One more match?”

You’d been ignorant to the Kingdom’s sudden burst of energy, the trembling chains of the drawbridge dropping onto cobblestone ground, the gates shifting open. 

Having appeared through thin air stands King Bahng, constantly arriving at the worst of timing. 

He’s clad in traditional armor, though his has fancier plating, cleaner sheen, azure hues hidden within the gorget.

Your stomach ties itself into a knot, piecing together the details.  

“If this is about the deal, I don’t think I-“

“Oh please princess, this was never up to you. We did this for the sake of the Kingdom, you think we ever considered your say in this?” Hyunjin interjects, quickly escorted away by a frowning Minho and an additional guard you don’t recognize.

Huh?

What… What is he talking about? For the Kingdom? What does he mean for the sake of the Kingdom?

Do us all a favor and marry him, will you? Seungmin’s words ricochet in your skull, the parts assembling perfectly into place.

But if I win, you marry King Bahng.

Marriage. 

They knew all along. They knew you were set to marry him and yet, no one told you.

If your betrayal had been violently inflicted, you would look like a rag doll. All this time, these moments you thought were glee-filled, hopeful.

Lies.

Tearing the King’s chance to speak from his fingertips, you pick up your sword, denying your shaky, white knuckles and replacing those broken feelings with rage instead.

No, you can’t afford to show weakness. You must replace these feelings as quickly as possible. 

No weakness, no mercy. 

“Fine, let’s duel.”

“But-“

“Pick. Up. Your. Sword. And fight me.”

Releasing a sigh, he cautiously pulls his own sword from its sheath, waiting to be counted off unlike Hyunjin.

However skillful you’d been before had completely vanished. Though, you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt, this fight meant your future, meant the minuscule bit of freedom you’d gotten to experience here.

The last thing you wished was to realize you had been lied to, but even more so to realize you’ve been lied to in front of the entire Kingdom, curious faces peering from the castle’s allures.

Your swings sloppy, you credit the severity of the blows as you attack and defend, evidently dueling with fatal intent.

You’ve lost this battle, you know it. Your senses are too overwhelmed to assess spatial awareness, and every muscle in your arm cries out for relief. 

Swept off of your feet in a repeated cycle to earlier, you accept, sitting below the tip of King Bahng’s sword, your defeat.

Almost automatically, the pieces of pride you’d attained after your victory against Hyunjin amounted to nothing. 

You may beat everyone else, but you will never beat this man, now matter how hard you try. The odds will always soar in his favor, and you will suffer the results of it.

This is not a game you’ll win. Because from the beginning, you existed as a marionette, enjoying such naivety till the comprehension as to who controlled the play hit you.

This theatre was particularly unforgiving.

He won.

If your insomnia before was grueling, this was an entirely new extreme. 

Averaging a meager two hours per night, you’re positive you’ve memorized the guest list by heart, staring blankly at the crinkled parchment, unblinking.

In a matter of days, the congratulatory ball will be held. 

You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.

Weeks ago, the guest list had simply been a past time, a mandatory errand for the King’s Advisor, a ball you weren’t aware, and wouldn’t be aware, was meant for you.

Your chest feels.. sad? Empty? 

Yes. Empty is the word. An emptiness gutting you from the inside, the ugly drawback of exhausted options and worthless optimism.

There’s a lot of things to ponder on as well, factors you have to analyze, ensure it wasn’t another stage for an audience you so foolishly performed.

No escape. 

Tuesday, two days before the ball, Jeongin drops by your door, carrying a package under his arm and that effortlessly adorable smile gracing picture-perfect features.

“This is for you, from.. um..” The anxious boy stammers, placing the binded package on your room’s veneer. 

“You can say his name, Jeongin, I’m not mad.”

He exhales audible relief, slender fingers wrapping around your hand before you can bid him farewell.

“He— The King, he’s a good person.”

You force a tight grimace, agreeing despite your contradicting expression.

Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn’t. You don’t know what to believe anymore.

Slipping from bed once the young boy’s footsteps fade in the distance, you gingerly unwind crimson ribbon, allowing the leather exterior to unfold. 

Inside lies a gown.  

A gown that, investigating how breathtaking it is, should be considered nothing short of a ball gown the longer you stare.

Designed as a mantua, the white fabrics paired with lace neck frill and engageantes add an elegance you’ve never seen before. Light, subtle blue hides beneath ruffles of the skirt, further accented by equally blue lace strings fastening the back together and outlining the seam of your square-cut stays.

You can only marvel at the gift given by your future husband, wishing so terribly you could simply run into his arms and pretend everything was well. 

If only it was under better terms, as if nothing had happened. If King Bahng was another man, it’d be possible.

And Wednesday night, the root of your problems bares his face, knocking at your door while you were under the impression it was Han instead.

Acting as if you didn’t care was much easier around everyone but him, especially when you were halfway into tying the laces of your dress, the dress he had purchased for you.

What awful circumstances.

“Don’t touch me,” You hiss, regarding the man across from you with a frown.

Lifting either hand in the air, he seemingly invites you to figure out the impossible strings yourself, cueing a very aggravated, very futile attempt at tightening the ties of your ball gown before (hesitantly) allowing the man to slip behind you.

Of course you had to choose now to try it on.

His touch irritably careful, he ensures the fabric is snug fitting but breathable, each woven thread in its coordinating pattern.

Where he learned this you have no idea, only aware of how horrific this close proximity is, your restlessness growing unbearable.

Running his tongue over his top teeth, he backs up slightly, taking you in with apparent speechlessness.

He clears his throat.

“I won’t apologize because I know it means nothing to you, but please, let me explain. I intended to tell you, I just-“

He sounds timid, like a child.

A sour, bitter fury froths like bile in your throat. You want to explode. 

“No. No. I didn’t want this! I won’t!” You wind around, pointing an accusing finger to his chest. “You killed them all, my family, my loved ones, children. I hate you. I hate you!” Your voice breaks, a gravelly, disgusting drawl raking your throat raw. Salty, burning tears drip down your collarbones.

Grievance. An innumerable stage of sadness you hadn’t reached before now, overflowing.

As he tries calming you down, you only grow angrier, pushing from your path to the door, ripping the handle awry.

Instantly, his arms wrap around your middle, hauling you back as you kick and scream, fingernails digging into any available skin, dress puffing as your legs flail.

Catastrophic.

“No- No!”

You’re certain the entire kingdom can hear you, but that’s the last concern occupying your headspace, too focused on escaping, far off as you had done earlier, anywhere but here.

“Stop crying,” He commands, either hand on your wrist pinning your back to the bed, expression morphed pitifully. His calloused hand swipes the storming rivulets from your cheeks. 

“Please, Y/n, please stop crying. It hurts.” 

Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.

“It hurts..?” You murmur, eyes shifting over his face. “…You hurt?”

Incessant crying causing your skin to burn, he only blinks at you.

A fit of anger forms just as fast as it disappeared in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re hurting? You’re the sick son of a bitch that killed my family and took everything I’ve ever loved away, you don’t deserve to hurt!”

Sucking in a necessary inhale, you angrily flail, wrinkling your nose at the careful tilt of his head, the distance of his face from yours, every scar, every pore close enough to see.

What happened to the King who threatened to break you? Why is he pitying you, looking at you with such kindness?

Longing to bring up how useless the deal was, how the benefits of the marriage aren’t your responsibility, you simply glare, emotions a whirlwind you can’t explain, can’t say aloud. 

And all he does is stare. Staring like you’ve said nothing at all. 

You want to cry out, want to curse him for all eternity, curse those blue eyes that seem to pave a pathway through your soul.

But you don’t. He beats you to it.

“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”

What?

“Because I’m not fully Beast. My mother was a Mage. She turned against my father after I was born, left us, and vowed to do everything in her power to destroy Beasts.” 

Your face contorts nonsensically, his tight hold on your wrists loosening the longer he speaks.

“And I assume,” He redirects your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact. 

Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter. 

“No one ever told you Mage’s started the war.”

You scoff.  

“Or that the Mage planned to cut off all trade supply simply out of spite. And so, I did what I had to—“

“You did what you wanted to. You killed helpless people because of your own problems, my family had nothing to do with it!” Vocal cords throbbing the louder you scream, you try kicking your legs to no avail. 

“Your family, Mage, had everything to do with it. My people would have died-“

“Mine already did. So now what?”

A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.

“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”

“But I am, so you might as well let me join them.” 

He sighs, a stray, obsidian strand of hair hanging over his forehead.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You test the words on your tongue, wedging your hand out to grab his face, feeling the dip of his jaw as he sucks in a breath.

When you first met, he had told you he’d break you. This change of heart confuses you, grates more anger in your chest.

“And why is that?”

Opening his mouth, he momentarily closes it, then opens again, contemplating the statement with caution.

He’s right, in some way. 

You’re not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be saddened. You were meant to be in the ground with them, be one of the many bodies littering the L/N Kingdom, granted an eternal sleep. 

Yet, you aren’t. 

You survived, and you despise this man with every fiber of your being for that.

But things cannot change. You can’t bring them back, and his situation is just as painful as yours. 

You both lost people, or, would’ve lost people.

An explanation or an apology, as he said, isn’t necessary.

So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.

Forcefully grabbing his chin and jutting him closer to you on the bed, your voice drips with venom, noses mere breadth apart.

“Then end this winter and marry me, Your Highness.”

For a split second you swear his gaze drifts to your lips, but you shake the thought away, his sharp canines glinting off the mirrors reflection. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to propose?”

“You killed my family, no need for formalities.”

“Care to remind me why you agreed to marry him? Weren’t you planning to kill him?” Felix piques, apron woven around his thin waist, skillfully measuring flour that’s dusted over his nose.

You needed to get your anger out, then devise a plan. Show King Bahng you weren’t going to succumb to his charms, tricks. Ever.

You hum from your spot on the counter, conversing just as you’d done back in your kingdom with Ms. Maewether. 

Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.

“Oh no, I still plan on killing him, I just want something first.”

Except, you didn’t talk about murder in front of Ms. Maewether. That was new.

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

Snapping your fingers, you cheerily tap your heels against the cabinets below.

“I want to see spring again.”

Silence overcoming the kitchen, it takes Felix a full minute to understand your preposition before bursting into unadulterated laughter. Well, until he realizes. Then he pouts.

“Aw, I was really looking forward to seeing Chris rejected at the altar.” The smaller Beast whines, popping a piece of sugary sweet dough his mouth and handing another to you.

“Hey, now that’s just cruel,” You mumble, muffled by the delicacy you’re currently chewing on.

“According to you yesterday, not really.”

Ah. Right.

“We just… have a lot to talk about.”

The phrase sounds stupid, but it’s true. Logically, emotionally it’s true. There is a lot in need of discussing.

For now, you’re indifferent.

“I’ve always thought you two were similar.”

The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve always wanted to protect what mattered to you most, and maybe, one day, you can understand why he did what he did.”

Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.

Nevertheless, an invisible barrier rests between you two. A lie. His lie. The Kingdom’s lie.

“Felix, I will never understand why he did it,” You humorlessly chuckle, hopping from your spot. “So tell me, why did you lie?”

All morning you debated the right time to confront him. Tonight was the night, the congratulatory ball, the wedding. Why wait? 

Freezing with his back turned to you, he stops mid-slice, dropping the knife atop the cutting board and gradually facing you. 

Oh Felix.

His nose flushed pink, lips quivering, you allow him to race forward and hug you, head tucked into your shoulder while you stand there, motionless.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was decided from the start, but we were told not to tell you, not until King Bahng told you himself.”

You want to tell him it’s okay, make some jokes, act like things are normal. Though your arms stay glued to your side.

“I guess Hyunjin beat him to it, huh?” 

His arms tighten around you and, with a sigh, you pat his back, gently nudging him off of you where you can hold that sweet face of his.

“But don’t worry about me, alright? I can handle this, and I forgive you, so let’s move on from this, Lix.” Tenderly rubbing the skin of his cheek, he meekly smiles, an action you can’t help but feel relieved seeing.

You’re strong. You have to be strong. For Felix, for Han, for Jeongin, for your friends throughout the Beast Clan, you’ll be strong. You’ll enjoy wearing the gown regardless of who bought it for you, cherish the wedding no matter the man you’re wedded to.

If you’re going to have to live like this forever, you might as well make the most of it.

On today’s occasion, you’re dressed by a hand maid sent to your quarters, polished and puffed to perfection by the time five o’clock arrives and the banquet officially begins.

And when you see yourself in the mirror, you’re not exactly sure who stares back at you. 

She’s pretty, yes, but she isn’t Y/N. She’s a Queen, the Queen of the Beast Clan.

Your stomach wrenches.

By tomorrow, you’ll be married. Married to King Bahng. You will be a wife, the wife of a King just as the L/N Kingdom intended. 

The thought continues to plague your mind, sucking more and more oxygen from your lungs that as you’re escorted to the ball room.

You can hardly inhale and exhale normally as Changbin, whom you appreciate enormously, walks you down the aisle, past an abundance of people you’ve never seen before. Beasts, business men, acquaintances alike.

Sensing your panic, your linked arms allow him to spare you a meager glance you anxiously return.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

All previous calmness long dissipated, when you finally redirect your attention from your feet and take in King Bahng waiting at the altar, your rampaging anxiousness increases tenfold.

As the audience claps and either of you turn with your backs facing the crowd, you scorn your lack of a poker face when the King rests a hand on your back.

“Breathe,” He utters, only a whisper you heard. 

Wishing to thank him, you bite your tongue, considering the man you’re referring to in the first place prior to replying.

A sharp nod of your head is enough.

Stifling an exhale, you spin on your heel, both bowing to the public before facing each other and holding hands, an action that shouldn’t cause goosebumps to swarm your arms, but does anyway.

“You plan to smash my face in at our wedding?” He murmurs below the customary vows, acknowledging your fingernails digging into his hand.

“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“

The retort vanishes when he presses his lips to yours, doubling back in shock before his palm on your back keeps you close.

Granting you breathing room if only for an instant, a slow grin tugs at the edge of his lips. 

“Then before I die, let me have this first.”

And he dives right back in again, kiss surprisingly tender compared to what you’d expected. Something bruising, dominating.

Instead, the King was soft. Soft as he held your cheek in a hand, soft when pulling you in by the waist.

Separating if only for a fraction of a second, you reach to hold his face, every instinct beckoning you to push him away dissipating into nothing but the nullified drone of your head and the insistent racing of your heartbeat.

“Are you that nervous, pretty? Your heart is-“

You pull him to your lips once more, hating how easy it is to forget, how his lips numb your thoughts—though unable to get enough.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

The guests hollering in your peripheral the lone sound breaching your eardrums, you can’t help thinking. 

He did this for his people just as you would’ve done. As for the Mage instigating the war, some secrets shall remain hidden, unable to be answered. You have to accept that among many things. 

The King has done nothing but care for you, and as much as you resent him for it, you respect him, if only a tiny bit, as well.

He’s irritable, and not to mention annoyingly handsome. His sympathy-filled eyes might be the death of you, and those dimples of his are stupidly lovable.

But he’s your husband, and somehow, strangely enough, you don’t find yourself hating the thought as much anymore.

Not when he holds you, and especially not when he kisses you as if it’s your last.

After the many hours spent celebrating, you couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about returning to your quarters.

Joined by King Bahng, you find traversing as easy as ever with the help of the (half) Beast behind you, helping navigate past multitudes of people, oddly comforting touch on your back guiding you through the hallways.  

Arriving at your room, he pauses, awkwardly shifting his weight on his heels, bewitching gaze flitting left and right, uncharacteristic to his usually smug attitude.

“…Was the kiss too much?”

King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?

You wanted to photograph this moment in your mind forever, debating on whether you should tease him about it, egg the normally stoic King on. 

However, you tip his chin down, pressing a chaste, soft peck to his lips, amusedly observing him freeze before melting into your touch.

“Could be better.” 

He huffs a sigh in response, and you’re left wondering if this is the same man who threatened to break you, the one who now looks like a pouty toddler.

Although, just as you slip by, he takes ahold of your wrist. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You crack a smile.

“Good night Chris.”

And, suppressing your chuckle, you close the door behind you.

Hastily undressing into nightwear and slipping into bed, you stare up at the ceiling, hours passing from the ticking of a clock in the corner, echoing around the room. 

Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.

“My gods, what are you doing here?” You whisper into the darkness, the door creaking behind his crouched form, King Bahng’s crouched form.

“I needed to see you.”

Ah. Don’t say things like that. 

Pulling the covers further over yourself, you squint accusingly at the man as he enters, silencing your urge to reprimand he saw you mere hours earlier, presumptuously sitting opposite to you. 

He scans what’s visible, fixating on your hand for a moment.

“You kept the ring on?”

Noting the gleaming jewel on your ring finger, you can’t help but feel slightly bashful. It’s not like you’re really married, but the thought sends a sort of satisfaction spreading throughout your chest. 

“If I take it off, will it become winter again?”

He grins, giggling childishly. 

“Is that the only reason?”

Debating on your response, you wet your lips, looking back up at his barely distinguishable face shrouded in darkness.

You have no doubt he’s thriving off your hesitance. 

Oh how badly you wish to wipe that look clean, but in reality, keeping the ring on feels as if a part of you from your own kingdom is with you, similar to your old clothing.

The part of you that, if not invaded, would belong to someone loved, newly wedded.

“No,” You mutter, though the phrase is barely audible.

He perks up.

“Hm?”

You regret saying that. But he’s already heard, there’s no use lying aimlessly.

“I said no, that’s not the only reason.”

“Care to tell me the other reason?” 

Rapidly averting your attention to your hand, you discover speaking is easier when not looking at him. 

“Keeping it on makes me feel like I’m really in love. I like imagining that, being married.”

You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.

“We are married.”

Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.

“Are we?” 

Unlike before, there’s no waver to your voice, no caution. 

Winding around to your side of the bed, he settles beside your feet. 

You clear your throat.

“I wanted to see spring again, and to you, I’m simply a present. A playtoy to your disposal. This isn’t marriage, not how I was taught, this is just a business arrangement.”

Nevertheless, the hurt leaks into your voice. So long to a resilient tone. 

“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

Come to think of it, it’s the first time he’s ever called you by your name apart from last night. 

Having had enough of his nonsense, you spring for his collar, dragging him below you on the bed. Opposite to earlier, you’re on top this time, you’re in control.

“You don’t deny it.”

A silence passes.

“I would deny it a thousand times, but you wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t blame you for that.” 

He sucks in a breath.

“I only ask you don’t doubt this marriage. This isn’t a business arrangement, and I will treat you with as much respect and love as possible, even if you don’t want me too. That is what marriage is, how I was taught.”

It’s your turn to inhale, lost within the confines of this dark space. 

“Chris, do you love me?”

You both have people you love, people you want to protect, wanted to protect. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you, not when he found you after you ran away, not when ordering a salve to keep you safe, nor now, as you lean above him. 

Like he told you. You weren’t meant to survive. You were supposed to be peacefully asleep, forever. 

This man, this Mage, this Beast, is as much a murderer as your savior. You choose how to condemn him. 

“I do, more than you could ever imagine.”

How can you stay mad at a guilty man, a man who kept you alive when you were on the brink of death? Who now professes to loving you, wanting to give you a marriage you’d been cheated of, give you everything you’ve been cheated of with everything in his power. 

Hovering right by his lips to the point your chests touch, you place a miniature kiss there.

“I hate you, so much.” 

Then another kiss.

His arms, wrapped around your more elevated form, drag you down in an embrace. One hand presses your face to his shoulder, another rubbing circles on your back. 

“And I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.”

Raising up, you can’t contain the tremor of your lip, the way your eyes shakily close shut as you steal a third kiss from his lips, a kiss he returns, hands carefully holding each side of your face.

“Chris?” You manage, currently straddling his lap, his body resting against the headboard. 

Kindly, he keeps a palm against your lower back, helping you balance.

“Can you show me what it means to be loved?”

You never understood how a person could melt until this moment. He wears that look again, like in the forest. The look that makes you cry.

What love looks like for Christopher Bahng, you don’t know. You have no doubt there will be ugly moments, moments you’ll reconsider, rethink. 

You’re both hurt, some wounds still hurting. But for him, for you, you’re willing to take that chance.

“I’d be honored.”

FIC TAGLIST. @stayceebs97 @duhgirl @yourgirljanvi @readr1221 @spearbinnie0327 @hyunjinsartpeice @cheesytangerine @palindrome969 @luminouskalopsia @kiaralynn3838 @chrizztopher97 @starlost-andfound @weeping-angel-in-the-tard1s @zaggprincess2

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[kiestrokes]

astringe | NSFW

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader/You/Yn Rating: NSFW! Mature (18+) Minors DNI. Word Count: 2516 Genre: smut, porn without plot, friends to lovers. Warnings: artsy undercut Hyunjin from the last month + 2023 VMA's, college, art school, a variety of kissing, handholding, Hyunjin is confident, mentions of a fantasy book featuring a blood mage which is a nod to @chans-room and a lovely fic they are crafting up.

Sexually Explicit Content: consented choking (this is the main focus of this fic DO NOT read if you don't enjoy choking in theory or real life), sexual intercourse (penis in vagina) cowgirl, missionary, some breast play but not really, mutual orgasms. let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: Things get a little tense in the library when your best friend innocently discovers your secret asphyxiation kink. He just wanted a better angle of your neck, but now that he's found it, how could he not toy with you a little?

🗝️ Note: sooo this brain rot had consumed me all of my workday yesterday and was only intensified after that undercut reveal at the VMA's. Hyunjin has been a fucking menace lately and I just needed to yeet this my from my brain. So yea, enjoy 🙏🏼thank you to B for their lovely beta read 🖤

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted in this story.

Read it on Ao3!

You’re tucked away into what is arguably your favorite place on campus- a window alcove nestled between two rows of bookshelves stocked with the full collection of Oxford dictionaries that nobody ever uses anymore. Thanks to the invention of smartphones.

Your best friend, sketching away on the window sill across from you as the sun descends into twilight. 

Hyunjin looks every part the troubled artist; a black sweater draped over his broad shoulders, dark hair pulled back nonchalantly, displaying his freshly shaved undercut, silver-rimmed glasses glinting under the fading halogen bulbs, a singular black nail pinching a bit of oil crayon as it glides across the thick paper of his sketchbook and rambling about how he needs to work on specific body parts more. 

You’re immersed in your fantasy novel, humming along, without the notion that you are his current subject or what he is saying at this point. The handsome blood mage has captured the warrior princess and is taking her back to his- 

Hyunjin’s hands are suddenly around your throat and your brain doesn't have time to stop the strangled moan that leaves your lips. Your book topples to the carpeted floor with a soft thud, announcing the loss of your place. You regain enough awareness to fight off your body's natural response to this type of touch. How you want to close your eyes, to sink into the hand cupping your neck, and relinquish control. 

Hyunjin’s observant gaze catches it and a mischievous smirk marks his beautiful lips. Slowly he begins to toy with your neck, turning you at angles with a slight flex of his fingers and jut of his thumb into your jawbone. Pretending to sketch the slopes and hollows of your throat, his interest already elsewhere. He grasps the column suddenly and your spine snaps arching your chest forward with a moan, your own hands clawing helplessly at the denim of your pants.  

“Shhh, you don’t want anyone to hear you.” His tongue toys with his top lip as he strokes your throat firmly with his thumb. 

“Hyun-” 

Hyunjin squeezes again, his gaze cutting to yours, the intensity of his eyes causing a whine to get caught in your chest.

He abandons the sketchbook and slips up next to you, his large thigh pressing into yours. His arm comes to rest between your breasts, rising and falling with your rapid breathing. 

“Does this turn you on?” 

You nod subtly. Head kicking back as he gifts you with another squeeze for answering his question honestly, biting your lip hard to keep all sounds locked behind your teeth. 

“Why aren’t you stopping me?” He looks at you from under his brow, smiling almost wickedly. 

Your lip slips from your teeth and a whimper escapes, Hyunjin rewards you with a firm press to the sides of your neck. You can feel your pulse thrumming against the tips of his fingers, and your eyes close in an attempt to calm your breathing.

“Do you want me?” Hyunjin’s cool breath fans across your lashes.

“Yes,” You whisper.

Hyunjin’s hand slips up to cup your jaw, his thumb caressing your lip before tugging it down. Your eyes snap open to find his gaze focused on his hand, and your lips. Then he's standing suddenly, like nothing had just occurred between the two of you. Calmly collecting his things, and slipping them into his bag along with your book he retrieves from the floor. 

Not a word is spoken until he looks down at you expectantly, “Let's go then.”  

You stand up shakily and Hyunjin wraps your hand in his, tucking you into his side and turning the two of you toward the exit. Hyunjin smiles politely at the librarians as they wave goodbye on your way out. His other fingers interlocked with yours as he guides you toward the elevators.

Hyunjin had lucked out in having a solo artist suite above the library, your second favorite place on campus.

Inside the elevator, you watch him in the tin reflection. Hyunjin smirks back at you, slipping your hand into the pocket of his baggy pants, and pressing the tips of your fingers into his erection. You gasp and turn to look at him, but he’s already watching you. An unspoken acknowledgment that he wants you too.

Hyunjin’s eyes only intensified behind the magnification of his circular glasses. With all the metal surrounding you, you’re all too aware of the charged energy behind Hyunjin’s gaze. As if you were to reach out and touch the wall of the rattling lift, you would be electrocuted.

The elevator dings and you tear your eyes away from him. Hyunjin removes your hand from his pocket and pulls you out of the elevator, toward his room. He punches the code in with his free hand and gestures you inside, finally releasing your hand from his firm grasp. Inside, the room is the same as it always is; dimly lit by a single lamp by the bed, bathing everything in a buttery glow that softens the sharp edges of Hyunjin’s drawing desk and stacks of sketchbooks.

You slip your sandals off and pad unsurely over to the bed, toes pinching into the soft checkered rug at the foot of his bed. The heat of Hyunjin’s body alerts you that he has moved on from removing his shoes and hanging up his bag at the door. 

You tilt your head to look up at him, just as his eyes meet yours his hand is on your throat again, stroking up before spreading firmly across your larynx.

Hyunjin’s lip's part when you press into his hand, asking for more, consenting to be choked. His lashes flutter in a soft laugh when you moan at the squeeze he bestows. He presses his front to your back, his other hand slipping under your sweater, across the soft skin of your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“What a lovely little secret you kept from your best friend,” His lips ghost yours as he squeezes again, a groan erupting from your throat.

Hyunjin breathes a laugh as he shuffles you over to the bed, the front of his thighs pressing into the backs of yours as if you are a doll, marionetting you exactly where he wants.

Your knees bump into the end of the bed and Hyunjin’s hand slips from your throat, turning you around to face him and tossing you down on your back with a soft push. Your hands fist the soft gray fleece of his bedding, anchoring yourself to something, solidifying yourself in this moment.

He wastes no time ridding himself of his clothing, tugging off the sweater, dropping his pants and boxers to be shamelessly nude before you.

You gulp, gaze bouncing across the chiseled body of your best friend. Hyunjin smiles knowingly, everyone reacts to him this way, he just didn’t expect that switch to be so easily flipped on in you. He rakes a hand through his hair, tugging out the tie and allowing his dark locks freedom. While his other hand rises to remove the glasses.

“No-”

He stops and shoots you a quizzical look, one that is punctuated with a paradoxically cute tilt of his head.

“Leave them on.” 

He grins, “another kink.” 

Hyunjin rolls his tongue between his lips, as he bends to tug you down the bed by your thighs. The squeak that escapes your mouth earns you an affectionate chuckle from him and you relax at the familiar sound.

This is your best friend, he’s not some inexperienced man pretending to be a dominant. Hyunjin smiles at you as he feels your muscles release underneath his hands.

The urgency with how he undressed himself is the polar opposite of how he unclothes you. His slim fingers slowly unbutton your pants, methodologically like he’s molding your body like clay.

Committing each touch to memory to draw later, each feeling, each sound. The snap of your button, the zip of your pants, you watch his eyes observing every subtlety.

He bites his bottom lip at the tilt of your hips, his eyes tracing how the light casts shadows over the mound of your cunt.

The darkened valleys that your hip bones create as he shifts the denim down your thighs. He tosses them off to accompany his discarded clothing, absently tracing the malleolus of your ankle as he nestles himself between your open thighs. 

You move to sit up, thinking your shirt is next, but Hyunjin is quick- he pins you to the bed by your throat and the moan that escapes you is raw.

Hyunjin huffs at you, eyes lidding as the sound impacts him. With his hand firm on your throat, his other fingers dip into the band of your panties, middle finger diving into your slit. He moans himself, eyes closing in pleasure at discovering how wet you are. 

Hyunjin releases you altogether, bending over to grab a condom from the crystal ashtray on his nightstand. He rolls it over his length, and everything picks up speed.

Suddenly your panties are gone and Hyunjin spears open your lower lips with one hand, slapping the head of his cock on your swollen clit. You writhe, crying out at the sensation as he circles it with his tip. 

“Choking you makes you this wet?” Hyunjin’s eyes are on your face and you blink yours open at him, nodding. “Can you come from it?” 

“I don’t know, no one has ever tried. Most guys get too lost in-” You break off and he tilts his head, eyebrows rising slyly.

His tip breaks your entrance, “-this pussy?”

You arch off the bed when he thrusts into your bowed body causing you both to moan loudly.

Hyunjin climbs onto the bed, thighs slipping under yours as he presses your pelvis together.

“Oh fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,��� He heaves out in half moan, half laugh.

“Hyunjin-” you grasp at his arms on your hips and his fierce gaze meets yours as one hand takes its place on your throat, thrusting in and out a few times.

“Squeezing me just like this-shit” his hand on your throat tightens in a way that makes your eyes roll back.

Combined with the sensation of his dick rubbing snuggly into the front wall of your core. He has you panting and whimpering from both.

Hyunjin’s eyes burn into yours as he snaps his hips hard a few times before backing off of you entirely, his chest heaving slightly. You chase after him, legs sprawled open, and tug his mouth to yours with a fistful of his silken hair. 

He grins against your mouth, “That's it, show me what you want.” 

He slips back onto the bed, guiding you into his lap, and you comply, eagerly. Slowly sinking onto his length, only Hyunjin doesn’t want that, he slams you down by your hips and you both cry out at the stretch and clench of your cunt.

His hands drift up your sides, snatching the hem of your sweater, followed by a one-handed snap of your bra, before both are tossed off into the void of his darkened room. 

Hyunjin reclines back against the pillows fluffed up against the headboard, hands trailing down your chest. His right hand, the one that seems to be permanently tinted with oil crayon and kohl smudges your nipples as he grazes them. His pupils spread as he watches you, as you roll your hips forward just a little, to test how he feels in this position.

“It's not too deep for you?” He rolls up into you, bathing in your reaction as you arc forward, breasts thrust towards his face.

He does it again, this time his hand grasping your throat firmly as you shudder against him.

“No,” you moan, rubbing yourself shamelessly into his base.

Hyunjin’s lips part as you continue your gyrations, his hand on your throat constricts in response. You start to pant, your arousal beginning to climb again.

“Fuck” Hyunjin curses.

His pelvis tucking into the bed, away from you as you tighten around him. His other hand rocks your hips encouraging you to keep moving, and you do.

Your eyes lidded as you stare down at your beautiful best friend, his dark hair splayed across the pillows, metal rims of his glasses catching in the light.

Hyunjin smiles at you fondly, his own arousal flaming under your heated gaze. He squeezes your throat again, both of you moaning as you tremble around him. You start to rock, and Hyunjin’s head kicks back as you draw him out and your pussy sucks him back in with urgent strokes.

“Harder,” he bites between clenched teeth, and you slam your ass back, your hands grasping the arm linked to your throat for balance.

You’re not sure who is more lost in the sensation, you or Hyunjin. He lets out a suppressed moan, each time you sink fully into his lap. While you moan and pant unabashedly, gasping for breath as his fingertips alternate long squeezes with short tight ones against the column of your throat.

The coil of your climax sends your nipples into tight buds as it slips across your body, sinking into every muscle.

“Hyun-” you start, and he sits up smashing your lips to his, plush lips parting and tongue diving inside to swallow every moan you release.

With a firm hand on your throat, his hips match your pace, drilling up into you and no longer hiding his vocalization.

Hyunjin’s fingers squeeze tight and hold firm, causing you to burst around him. Overwhelmed not just from the asphyxiation but by his tongue tracing figure eights across yours and the swell of his cock stroking along your sensitive walls.

Arousal gushes out of you, wetting Hyunjin’s lap so that each thrust is announced with an undeniably intimate squelch.  You cry a strangled version of his name into his mouth, his lips still working yours until you’re bowing away from him, your spine curving you back. 

Hyunjin follows right behind you, fisting your throat one last time before his fingers splay open as he comes apart groaning your name. His head tossed back, hips shaking with effort as you continue to seize around him.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he whispers as he collapses back against the headboard, “Mmm.”

Hyunjin rubs your thighs affectionately, rolling his hips into you one final time before pulling you down to lay on his chest.

The two of you lay there in near silence, the only sounds are your labored breaths returning to a normal pattern. Hyunjin idly draws lines along your spine, with the tips of his slender fingers as you come down from your high.

“Hyunjin,” you mumble against the valley of his clavicle.

“Hmmm?” He returns sleepily.

“This doesn’t change anything between us, right?” You lift your head to look at his face.

His eyes are closed, and he looks like a Grecian carved work of art. Full lips glistening with your exchanged saliva, cheekbones dewy from sweat. 

His hand on your back stills briefly, before flattened palms rub up your rib cage and his eyelashes flutter open to meet your anxious stare.

“A couple of fucks won’t change what's between us, honey.” He says firmly and you smile in relief pressing your forehead to his, he wastes no time in sealing his lips to yours.

© COPYRIGHT 2023 by kiestrokes All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[written-in-flowers]

The Drifter: The Sea King's Curse (1.02a)

Pairing: siren!hyunjin x fem!reader

Word Count: 59k

Genre: fantasy, smut, fluff, adventure

Summary: When the corpses of mutilated mermaids wash up on shore, the lawmen of Levanter Bay seek YN's help to find the cause. They end up discovering this goes much farther than expected.

Tags: Graphic violence (just fist fighting and monster slaying), kidnapping, animal death (hunting out of necessity), graphic descriptions of corpses, death, autopsies, thalassophobia, fear of deep water, megalophobia (fear of large objects), sea monsters, mind control, mind manipulation, mental illness, dark magic, mentions of war, slight ptsd. vaginal fingering, p in v sex, monster fucking, bigdick!hyunjin. underwater sex, public sex, outdoor sex, monster dick

Part 1 < | > Part 3

Drifter Masterlist

***

The whale stopped right outside where you’d met Hyunjin that morning, and you lamented leaving him. You knew you’d see him again, but leaving him this moment left you empty inside. People told you sirens give that effect, so you tried not thinking too much as you swam away from him. You forced yourself to focus on whether Minho and Han had any luck with their part of the investigation. 

“More than enough luck!”

Han called as you and Chan arrived back at the station. He sat at his desk, leaning back with his feet on the top and a satisfied grin on his face. You gaped at his broken lip, and the black and yellow bruise on his temple. On his left hand, you saw a bandage wrapped around his palm, bloody in the middle. 

“Jisung!” Chan gasped, moving over to check his bruises. “What the hell happened?”

“Got into a bar fight,” he shrugged, playing it cool. “It’s no big deal.”

Chan gingerly lifted his bandaged hand, “What happened to your hand?” 

“Park Jinyoung, that’s what,” he grimaced when Chan turned his hand palm upwards. “He put a knife to me, and I had to get him off somehow.”

“With your hand?”

“It worked! I put a bullet in his leg, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He still got away.” 

That was when you saw them. A young man and woman sat in one of the holding cells, the enchanted purple bars keeping the woman from teleporting out. The young man had the wide, long ears and black eyes of a goblin, while the woman appeared human. The goblin noticed you first, his reaction not much different from other criminals who see you. He backed up into the wall attached to the bench, pushing back as if he might melt into the stone. His sudden jolt startled his companion, and she turned to see you as well. She didn’t back away, but her eyes did widen. 

“Jennie and Eric, right?” you asked, walking past Han and Chan to the cell. Eric crouched into the corner, but Jennie kept her gaze on yours. “The mage and the accomplice.”

“So the squirrel wasn’t lying when he said they knew a demon bounty hunter,” Jennie drawled, seeing your exposed markings. “Plan on roasting us, demon?”

“Not right away,” you leaned against the side of the door, arms crossed. “I’m going to take a stab and guess the deputies already questioned you?”

“They tried,” she sniffed. 

“We don’t know anything about Alcina!” Eric squeaked, eyes squeezed shut. “I swear, we don’t know anything about her! Not at all!”

“Eric!” Jennie hissed, kicking at him. 

“Alcina, huh?” you let the name rest out in the air, “Where did you meet her?”

“I’m not talking, demon,” Jennie spat, arms crossed. “Save your breath. You’re going to need it when Jinyoung comes for me.”

“What makes you think he’s coming?”

“We’re his crewmates,” she shot at you. “He needs us. We need him.”

“Does he?” you raised an eyebrow, “He can pick up any pair of misfits off Cortuga and sail off without a second thought about either of you.”

“He’d never do that!” she said angrily, frustration bubbling inside her. “He…He isn’t that kind of captain…” she looked away from you, biting her trembling lower lip. 

“Alright, sure. I honestly can’t wait for him to get here,” you then bent and whispered to her, “Then I can cook him alive myself.”

“Demon filth…” she grumbled through her teeth. “You’ll see soon enough. You’ll all see!”

“And I’m terrified,” you seethed. 

You turned to see Minho back at his desk. He did not leave the fight unscathed. You caught the busted blood vessel in his right eye. It was most likely caused by whatever object left a cut underneath the eyelid and purple and black around his eye. Another cut on his left cheek told you his attacker got in close before he blasted them away. He placed a large book on his desk, and opened it. 

“Alcina?” you walked over to him, grabbing a chair to sit on the other side. “Does that name ring a bell for you?”

“No, but I’m assuming it’s the person they’re working for,” Minho said, “Unless you two find something to contradict her?”

You told Minho everything you learned while Chan rewrapped Han’s injured hand. He froze up when you detailed Tytos’s condition, and mentioned The Creator. 

“That’s not Brain Fog,” Minho said when you finished. “Brain Fog might make you forgetful and dazed, but it doesn’t debilitate you at the same time. You say he looked thin and frail. In what way?”

You thought about it, “In a deathly way. It was as if the curse was slowly killing him at the same time. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in days, his hair was brittle and thinning and his dry lips were cracked. Yet, when I mentioned his eldest son died, he seemed to break out of his delusion for a second before Mizu put him back under somehow.”

“How? Did you see what he did?”

“He touched the middle of his forehead,” you showed him the thumb motion Mizu had done, “And left behind some kind of black powder. Does that sound like any spell or curse you know? None of the ones I remember require that sort of touch.”

“There are a few,” he rolled his chair to the bookshelf a few feet from his desk and scanned the shelves, “Brain Fog doesn’t require any sort of physical touch. You said you’d seen this in the war?”

“Yes,” you watched him pick out one of the black leather books and came to the desk, “The mage who removed it used a stone. Yejin thinks it might’ve been a black tourmaline.”

“Yes!” he cheered reading the cover of the book, “Demonic Curses of the Dark Age! I knew I had it somewhere. I bought it at a sale in Newport. The warlock selling it says it was written by a real demon who was put to death for writing down their secrets!” He brought the book back to the desk, and opened it. “There’s a chapter in here somewhere,” he scanned the first page, “About manipulation curses. It has everything from elemental manipulation to molecular manipulation to zoological manipulation! I devoured this book in days! There’s so much!”

“Okay, Minho, that’s great,” you said, amused by his eagerness, “But does it have anything about mind manipulation?”

“It might…” he then asked, “You said the mage used a stone?”

“He did,” you nodded, “He said some sort of incantation while he did it, and the curse was gone.”

“Hmm…” he flipped another page, “Black tourmaline is a good stone for battling negative energy and psychic attacks. It’s regularly used for sapping out a curse.”

“What do you do after you have it in there?” asked Han, who winced when Chan closed the bandage. 

“You usually melt or break the crystal,” Minho said. “A lot of fairies study alchemy so they can dispose of dark matter easier.”

“And I’m going to guess you’re one of those fairies?” he grinned humorously. 

“I am,” he nodded. “We only need to find the right incantation.”

You shut your eyes as the day slowly broke down on you. “As fun as reading books late at night can be,” you yawned, slumping against the chair, “I think my brain is ready to shut off.”

“Not surprised,” he said, “Swimming around Hydrus will do that to you. You two get some rest. We won’t be finding our answer tonight.” 

“You sure you want to walk to The Pearl like that?” asked Han when he saw you stand from your chair. 

“Yes, why?” You then realized why Minho tried so hard not to look at you and why Han could not stop looking at you. 

You’d gone into Hydrus in just your bra and pants. 

“Oh, so Chan can walk around shirtless and nobody cares, but if I walk around with a bra on, it’s suddenly a problem?”

“Nobody said Chan can walk around shirtless,” Minho said, still focused on his book, “He just does it and we accept it.”

“You’ll get no complaints from me,” Han said breathlessly. 

“Jisung,” Minho snapped, something similar to jealousy in his voice. 

“Oh Minnie, you know I only have eyes for you,” he batted his lashes and blew a kiss. 

“Ugh,” you groaned and made for the door, “It’s not a big deal. Wearing my shirt and jacket would have weighed me down. It’s not much different from swimming suits.”

Han stifled a laugh, “Which can be just as deadly on a woman like you.” 

“Oh hush.” 

“Men are the worst,” Jennie said from her cell. 

“They are!”

You left the station without another word, walking out into town. Yes, you did get a lot of stares as you walked up to the White Pearl. Though, something told you it was your markings and not the lack of a shirt that caught stares. Honestly, you felt too tired to really care. Muscles aching from the constant swimming around in the ocean, you thought only about peeling off your damp clothes and crashing onto your bed. Moving through the crowded inn, you saw Felix singing up on stage. The pretty blond winked at you when you met his eyes, and you’ll admit you found him charming. 

Not as charming as the bed waiting upstairs. 

****

“I believe they are unto us, Creator. The mainlander lover and the old fool were alone with him.”

“Have they undone our work?”

“Of course not, but…one of my guards said his shark sensed somebody else in the room with us. I believe it was her half-breed son hiding in plain sight.”

“Then you must get rid of him. Our spell is almost complete. In a few days, King Tytos will die and the Seven Seas will be ours.”

“Of course, Creator. I will have my best men on it. We will kill that mainlander and whoever else stands in our way.”

The Creator remained silent in her orb, and Mizu sensed she was searching in “the beyond”. He noticed her gasp, and hesitated. “No…this cannot be. It must not be true.”

“Creator?”

“I see eternal fire within the waves,” she said. “I see…Oh, I can feel her powers now.”

“Whose powers, Creator?”

“The Vanquisher…The demon who slayed The Dark Lord…She is here…” her voice suddenly sharpened, “You must stop her! She cannot succeed!”

“The Vanquisher?”

“The Vanquisher!” she hissed. “The fire demon named Multak, who slew our master in Incheon and sent him into The Abyss! Our mortal enemy! She will foil our plans if we do not stop her!”

“What would you have me do?”

“Distract her. Keep her busy with your pirate friends while I work my magic. It appears we will have to speed up the process.”

“As you command, Creator.” 

****

“How was your adventure under the sea?” 

Changbin passed your breakfast plate to you on the bartop, and refilled your milk cup. You licked your lips at the steaming eggs, bacon, grits and biscuit on your plate. 

“Great,” you answered, digging into the eggs right away. You hadn’t noticed your hunger until you’d woken up this morning with your stomach growling. The fluffy eggs melted in your mouth and you thought you’d melt with them, “Met a pretty siren, saw some fish, and got to ride a whale. Very eventful.”

“A siren, huh?” he asked with an impressed grin. “Did you get lucky?”

“Unfortunately not,” you frowned, thinking of handsome Hyunjin’s pretty mouth. “I was there on business, so there wasn’t much room for pleasure.”

“Shame,” he said. “When you came in here without a shirt, I was hoping to hear a wilder story than that.”

“Well, I did get to sneak into a palace, so it wasn’t totally uneventful.” 

Changbin chortled, and you started telling him about your journey when a high cry broke through the morning crowd outside. You chased your food with the milk as you peered into the windows. People rushed down the dirt road, fear in their eyes and adrenaline pushing them forward. They ran into nearby buildings, calling to those inside, and shutting doors and windows tightly. Dread filled your bones, and you suddenly didn’t feel hungry. Changbin, however, knew exactly what was happening. 

“Wooyoung!” he called into the kitchen, “Pirates!” He then reached under from the bar and retrieved a double sided axe. From the notches on the wooden handle, it’d been used plenty of times. “YN, either get your steel or go upstairs.”

“Pirates?” 

You slowly stood from your stool, and went to the window. A group of children ran into the inn, going right behind the bar. You heard Changbin direct them into the kitchen, while he whistled for Honey. Their calls came from far away, but their taunts and laughter stuck in your ears. He sent them. Whether to scare you or kill you, Mizu sent these pirates to you. While a twinge of fear did hit you, Zunar’s words whispered in your ear. 

“That’s the only time we can be brave, little flame.”

You went to grab your sword. 

When you returned, Changbin and Wooyoung already ran outside. While most of the citizens of Levanter Bay hid, a select few met the invaders: Fred Pebbles with a large club and his men shooting from behind wagons and crates; Han and Minho standing atop a nearby building, taking shots with bullets and magic arrows; Changbin with his ax and bear companion: Wooyoung with twin daggers and swift kicks, and even Mayor Wallace with a heavy hammer. The smell of blood and battle hit your senses, fueling you for the fight as you went up to the porch railing. 

One of Pebbles’s farmhands stood fighting a particularly nasty looking pirate goblin, so you jumped behind the goblin with a swift kick. Once on the ground, the farmhand slammed her hammer into their skull. Your eyes scanned the invading pirates, daring one of them to come at you. One of them finally did. A bearded man with gunpowder smeared over his eyes came at you with a hatchet raised in the air, and you moved to block it easily. Your hand burning bright, you shot a fireball right into his abdomen. He cried in pain, and you kicked him away to fend off another pirate who ran up to your side. A slash up their middle had them crashing to the floor, while you shot another fireball at the bearded pirate. 

Effectively being burned alive sent the bearded back stumbling and running into a group of pirates, who moved out of his way. A woman’s cry caught you through the commotion, and you saw two men break into a boutique and start ransacking the place. You narrowed your eyes and rushed at them from behind. Levitating one into the ceiling and then slamming him to the floor, you swing your sword at his companion right as he reached for a small girl. He turned around, pain shooting up his back, to swipe a knife at you, which you returned with another fireball to his face. Your demon fire seared his skin, making him scream with pain. 

“Get somewhere safe,” you told the women inside, “And barricade the door.” When they froze with fear, you said more firmly, “Go! Now!” 

You stuck the screaming pirate with your blade, then kicked him off. When you stepped out the door, you waved your hand over the doorway where black clouds of smoke started embedding into the wood. The protection spell would keep any other pirates from breaking in. You’d stopped a pirate from attacking an elderly woman inside her stall when you saw him. 

Chan’s merfolk genes appeared to make him faster and tougher than a normal human. You watched him throw punches, dodge kicks and hands with precision and speed. You saw the weapon in his hand: a long dagger with a bone handle. Fearless, daring, and strong, you couldn’t help admiring him as you easily cut down a reptilian pirate. It’d been when he cut through another pirate that a voice rang out through the fray. 

“Where’s the demon called Multak?!”

A tall, tanned man with a small face and a square jaw came through the crowd. People around you gasped when they realized he held Mayor Wallace at gunpoint. You could tell the mayor put on a brave face even with a gun barrel in his stomach. A woman with copper skin and braided coarse hair ran out of a nearby shop, tears in her dark eyes. 

“Gerald!” Mrs. Wallace, the school teacher, cried out. She tried going to him, but Fred kept her at a distance. 

“I’m alright, Barbara,” he called out, not daring to look at her. 

“Let him go, Park,” Chan said, the fight having stopped with the captain walking onto the scene. “He’s not a part of this.”

“He is,” the captain cackled, “He is until you hand me back my first mate and bring me the demon.”

“I can’t do that, Park,” Chan replied, “She’s headed for the capital. It’d be awkward if they came for her and she wasn’t here, you know?” 

“Stop playing games, and give me Jennie, you half-breed.” 

“Call me that again, pirate,” Chan let the last word hiss like a curse, “And you’ll get your first mate alright.” 

You knew exactly how this would go if you didn’t step up. “You want me, pirate?” you stepped out from the crowd, putting yourself between Chan and Jinyoung. Removing your jacket, your markings began faintly glowing their red-orange colors. “Here I am.” 

“You’re the demon?” he huffed. “I thought you’d be taller and more…manly.”

“I thought you’d be manlier too,” you shot back. “Mizu sent you for me, and here I am. Let the mayor go.”

“Bring me Jennie,” he demanded, “Then I’ll think about giving your wimpy mayor back.”

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Park,” you said. “I’m already going to have a big day ahead of me, and I’d like to go back inside this inn and finish my breakfast at least. Wooyoung puts cream in the eggs? It makes them melt in your mouth.”

“Then you’ll have no problem handing over my Jennie.”

His Jennie? “I’m sorry, that’s not possible. You see, your first mate and her little goblin friend have information we need and, well, she just hasn’t given us what we want. We can give her back to you in between 365 to 730 business days.”

“I’m done fucking around, demon!” he shouted angrily. “Give me my Jennie!”

“Your Jennie, huh? Alright, I’ll go get her right now.” 

You turned around, eyes following you as you marched into the station behind you. He wanted to play this game? Then you’d play it too. Walking over to the enchanted holding cell, Jennie stood confidently and smiling smugly. 

“I told you he’d come for me, didn’t I?” she taunted, not scared by the anger flaring in your eyes. “He’s come for me and he’s going to burn your-Hey! Let go of me!”

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, you dragged the mage out of the cell, across the station, and outside. “You want her, huh?” you asked Jinyoung, keeping a firm grip on Jennie. “Here she is! Come and get her.”

“No, bring her here!”

You sneered, “Alright.”

“YN, what are you doing?” Chan whispered at you, but you ignored him. 

Jennie’s feet stumbled as you guided her over to her lover. You spotted the satisfaction in Jinyoung’s eyes, and it enraged you further. You threw Jennie onto the ground beside him, then spoke. 

“There she is,” you said, a growl in the back of your throat. “Let the mayor go.”

Jinyoung gave you a wicked grin. You had mere seconds. Reaching out to the gun on Mayor Wallace’s side, the heat from your hand immediately shocked Jinyoung’s body. A handprint similar to a branding covered his gun hand, which opened and dropped the gun to the floor. The mayor rushed to his wife nearby, but you kept your eyes on the pirate.

“Damnit!” he seethed, holding his shaking hand. The mark you left started steaming, burning the skin there further. “Damnit, damnit, dammit! You damn dirty demon!”

“Stop your howling,” you said. You grabbed him by a tuft of hair and growled, “I could’ve sent you to demons who’d do way worse than that.” You then asked, “Who is Alcina?”

“Who-o?”

“Alcina, the witch who cursed the king. Who is she?”

“Who?”

“‘Who, who, who’, are you a fucking owl?” You placed your hand on his shoulder, burning him once more. “Who is she? Tell me who she is or I’ll roast you alive!”

“I won’t tell you shit, demon!”

You touched him one more time, and you saw tears in his eyes. Jennie, who’d boasted about his love for her, did not move to protect or save her “lover”. 

‘They know nothing of loyalty. They turn on each other the moment the world starts crumbling.’ 

Nor’goth may have a point there. 

A gentle hand touched your arm, and Chan’s voice drowned out Nor’goth’s. “YN, don’t do this here. Everyone is watching.”

You suddenly became aware of everyone still in the square. He was right. Not here where children and soft-hearted folks could see. A flush of embarrassment and worry came over you when your fires faded. 

“Let’s take them into the station, and question them there,” he said, slowly soothing the fires blazing inside your chest. “Not torture them. Question them.” 

His soft hand touched the one holding Jinyoung up, and you released him. Han and Minho quickly collected both Jennie and Jinyoung. You turned to see the townspeople looking at you, fearful and shocked. They saw your glowing marks, your fiery hands, and saw the demon. A monster. At the end of the day, you are the monster they fear. 

“Come on,” Chan said gently. 

You swiped your jacket from the dirt and threw it over your shoulders. They’ll want you to leave after this. Nobody wants a demon in their town. It’s why you never stay. A lump formed in your throat, and you kept your head down as you followed Han and Minho into the station. You didn’t stop Han and Minho from putting Jinyoung and Jennie in another enchanted cell. Minho went to grab ointments from his desk while Han locked them up. You didn’t bother with the other two. They won’t tell you anything, but the goblin will. 

“Nam!” 

“Woah, woah, woah! Wait, wait-” Eric Nam ducked into the corner of the cell. 

You lifted him by his shirt collar. His fear dripped out of every pore becoming a fuel for the fire in you. “Who is Alcina and where is she?”

“YN!” Chan called behind you. You ignored him. 

“Who is she?!”

“She’s a witch we met in Cortuga!” he cried out, eyes shut tightly. “She said she’d make us rich if we helped her! She said all we had to do was kill a few mermaids and Jennie had to rile up some of the sea predators, and we’d be rich! I swear, that’s all I know! That’s all I know, please don’t burn me alive! Please!”

“I ain’t making promises,” you growled “Where is she?”

“I don’t know!” his voice cracked when you pushed him into a wall, “I swear, I don’t know! I don’t! We only met her once! That merman is who we communicated with!”

“Eric, you absolute coward!” Jennie called, brave now that she’s safe in another cell. 

“Merman? You mean Mizu?” Chan asked from the cell door. 

“Yes! Him!”

“Did he ever say where he meets Alcina?” he came up beside you. “Let him go, YN,” he said, hand on your wrist. 

You hated how easily you let go of Eric. On the ground, Eric took a few shaky breaths before he spoke, “He never told us, but I followed him one time. He gave us the ability to breathe underwater, and after one of our meetings, Jinyoung asked me to tail him. Jinyoung never works with anyone without knowing things about them. We thought he might be going to meet someone to do a double cross, but then I…I saw her.”

“Alcina?”

“In a cave outside of Hydrus,” he said, “In a leviathan’s lair. I can conceal myself, so none of them noticed me.”

“What did you hear?”

“Them talking about cursing the king.”

“With what?”

“They said something about mind consumption? I don’t know what that means.”

You turned to Minho, who sat nearby listening as he treated a hand-cuffed Jinyoung. He nodded, “Yes, I’ve heard of it. It’s a mental curse that slowly consumes the mind until the afflicted body deteriorates. It explains why Tytos’s body is slowly shutting down. The brain is having trouble sending signals to the rest of him.”

“Would a stone treat that?”

“It would,” he said, wrapping the pirate’s burnt hand. “I know someone who could help us.”

“Who?” 

“Our resident doctor and garden fairy, Yang Jeongin,” he said with a satisfied grin. “If anyone knows about healing crystals, it will be him.”

“You and YN can go talk to him,” Chan directed, “Han and I will watch over these three while we wait on the marshal.”

You hesitated to join Minho. Outside the windows, you saw the remaining pirates turning tail and running out of town by the docks. People coming out of the buildings convened together in the middle of the square, where they embraced loved ones. You then saw them start whispering. It might be about the pirates or about the demon who tortured one in front of them. Regardless, Minho guided you to the door. 

“You won't get the reaction you're expecting,” he assured you.

You realized that once you stepped back outside. At first, people looked apprehensive until you heard a steady clap from nearby. This clap then started a wave, and you saw bright, proud faces. 

“Thank you,” the boutique shopkeeper smiled, “Thank you for saving us! Those pirates were going to kidnap my little girl, but you showed them.”

“That goblin would've had my head if you didn't have my back!” Fred's farm hand clapped your shoulder, a toothy grin on her face, “Thank you!”

“Can you really set people on fire?!” Eunwoo, the moon elf boy from the inn, asked excitedly.

“Those pirates will think twice before messing with us again!” His friend said, swishing his stick like a sword.

“Boys, that's enough.” Barbara Wallace came up next, clutching her pearl necklace. She hesitated a moment, then said, “Thank you, YN, for saving my husband. Knowing him, he would've gotten himself killed if you didn’t step in.”

“How is he?”

“Just got a nasty bump from the fight. He's had worse injuries,” she sighed. “But, Eunwoo is right. Word will spread with time that Levanter Bay isn't as defenseless as it seems. It truly was a blessed day when you came into our town.”

“The sheriff, Han and myself were there too,” Minho pointed out, hands on hips. 

“And you handled it gallantly as always,” she patted his shoulder as she walked past him to the children nearby.

Their collective reaction silenced you. “They aren't…scared?” you looked at Minho as you continued through the square. 

“Did you want them to be?” asked Minho, amused. 

“No, but that's usually the reaction I get whenever people see, you know, me.”

“The people around here aren't like that,”  Minho said. “It’s not as if you tortured an innocent person. He was a scumbag pirate who tried to tear down the town. You did us a favor by arresting him.”

“Most people tend to think that I take it too far…the intimidation part, I mean.”

“The people who think that are idiots,” Minho scoffed. “You’re a demon, YN. Demons swear oaths to protect innocent souls and punish wicked ones, don’t they?”

“We do.”

“And that’s what you were doing: protecting innocent people and punishing the wicked ones.” He then said, “Look, if it makes you feel better, I would’ve made him think he was covered in snakes or spiders or something awful to get him to talk.”

“Psh, mind games,” you snorted, “They’re worse than physical ones, if you ask me.”

“Chan isn’t a fan of them, but it gets the job done and that’s what matters to me.” He said, “The people here aren’t like the people in the cities. They’re wholesome and quaint. They’re…accepting and open. It has to be for so many different people to coexist in the same town.” 

He wasn’t wrong. Levanter Bay, despite not having any real sun, definitely carried one of its own in the townspeople. More people thanked you and Minho as you walked down to the doctor’s office right beside the postman’s station. Above the door, someone wrote in black cursive letters: ‘Dr. Yang Jeongin, M.D.’ with a pair of fairy wings with a staff in between underneath. However, you didn’t stop at his office. Jeongin happened to already be outside, tending to a young man with a ghastly cut up his arm. 

You briefly remembered Jeongin from your last case, the handsome garden fairy who wore a gray and white hanbok, the traditional attire of his people. His long, bright green wings looked so thin they could be glass. As you drew closer, you saw the white blossoms woven into his black hair like a crown. He’d been in the process of finishing a stitch when you and Minho approached. 

“Hello, Minho,” Jeongin said without looking at him. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

Minho drew closer, crouching to survey the stitches on the man’s bloody arm. “Your stitching has gotten better.”

“My stitches were always fine. It was yours,” he cut the thread and tied it down, “That were crooked and too tight. Pass the gauze, please.” Minho handed him a roll of white gauze, and Jeongin began wrapping it. “What is this about, Deputy? I have a lot of people who need me.”

“We have someone who may need you more.”

“Who?” 

“King Tytos.”

Jeongin stopped wrapping when he heard the name. He looked over his shoulder at Minho, “The Sea King? What’s happened to him?”

“He has mind consumption, Jeongin,” Minho said seriously. “It’s slowly killing him . The mermaid corpses on the beach, the predator attacks along the coast, and the pirates today? They all have to do with Tytos being ill. My friend and I discovered that a way we can combat it is by-”

“-Sapping it out of him,” Jeongin finished, taping off the gauze swiftly. “Mr. Song,” he went into his medical kit beside him, “Take two of these tonight, and swing by in the morning.” 

He gave the injured man a packet, then stood up with his bag. “You need black tourmaline,” Jeongin said, turning back to his office, “Which is not easy to find in these parts.”

“Please tell us you happen to have one?” you asked hopefully. 

“It just so happens I do. Come with me.” 

He led you and Minho into his office across the road. Two young garden fairies stood inside, gathering supplies from shelves and putting them into baskets. “Kira, Koya,” Jeongin called to them, “See to the wounded outside. I have some business with Deputy Lee.” 

“Yes, sir,” the twin fairies said together, bowing before leaving the room by their wings. 

Jeongin put down his kit and walked to a workbench behind a curtain. “I’m sure you know by now that black tourmaline is used to defend against negative energy, correct?”

“Yes, we do.”

“And Minho should know that certain crystals,” you heard bottles clinking behind the curtain, “Can be used in rituals to remove said negative energies.”

“Obviously,” Minho said defensively. “I only need the incantation used to remove the consumption.”

You heard Jeongin rifle through his stores before coming back from behind the curtain. He held out a black pouch to Minho, “I really should go with you to assess his condition. We don't know how deep and how long the consumption has festered.”

“I estimate about a few weeks now?” You threw out there, “The corpses showed up two days ago, but a friend of ours says his illness has carried on long before that. He shows signs of severe dehydration, malnutrition, delusion, and memory loss.”

Jeongin listened intently, nodding and thinking to himself. “What color was his skin? His eyes?”

“Pale and paler.”

“Hair?”

“He had lots of patches and sores forming where his head rests. He doesn’t have much of it left either.”

“He shows all signs of severe consumption,” Minho told him. “I need the incantation, Jeongin.”

Jeongin walked over to a bookshelf, scanning the spines until he pulled one out. It appeared much older than some on the shelf, with flesh colored leather wrapped around it. Minho gasped upon seeing the strange book.

“What is a garden fairy doing with a dark remedy book?” Minho asked, touching the stitches keeping the cover together. 

“It was a gift, if you must know,” he said airily. “I am a doctor, Minho, and doctors need to learn all kinds of arts if they're to treat anyone. Dark magic, as much as it pains me to say, has plenty of full proof remedies.” He smirked at Minho, “What? You don't have one?”

Minho glared, “I do happen to have one. All shadow fae have one. I'm only surprised a bubbly, goody-two-shoes like you would have one as well.”

“I'm not always good. You know that.”

He turned a few pages in the book until he came across a section for curses of the mind. 

“Ah, here it is,” he said, putting glasses on the bridge of his nose. “‘Combined with a crystal of light energy or protection, hold it up to the area of first contact and repeat the mantra: ‘Replenish thy mind and embrace the light’ .”

“That's it?” Minho asked, unimpressed. “Just that?”

“Sometimes the treatment is simpler than you think.” He closed the book, “Find the infection site and hold it to him while you say the words. If the king is not as far gone as you believe, then he should be fine.”

“What if he is far gone?” You asked. 

Jeongin thought for a moment, then said, “Help him remember things. Anything he may have an emotional attachment to, like a happy moment or a particular event in his life.”

You thought about the king’s reaction to you when you’d spoken as his daughter. Speaking about his dead son, hearing another acknowledge his death, broke the spell for a few seconds. 

“Thank you, Jeongin,” Minho said, peeking into the pouch to see the black stones inside, “I'll bring these back so they can be disposed of properly. We don't want anyone using them.”

“I hope it works,” Jeongin said, replacing medical supplies in his bag, “Tytos is a good man, and his people will need him. I pray the Light is kind to him.”

You waited until you left the office to tell Minho, “We need to go now. If we keep putting it off, Tytos will slip too far for us to heal him.”

“Agreed. I'll tell Chan we're going ahead of him,” he dug into the dust pocket on his belt. “You've had a siren’s kiss, right?”

“I have,” you said, remembering Hyunjin’s soft lips. 

“Good to know.” He tossed some dust into the air, and spoke into the floating particles. “Chan, we have the cure. We're going to Hydrus right away.” He blew into the dust, and it zoomed away through the crowds. “There's no time to waste. Come on.”

***

A/N: sorry this part is so long! Haha, this episode is pretty long compared to the first one. I still hope you liked it, and thanks for reading <3 please reblog and like <3

Part 3 >

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction Descriptions

Hello everyone! I figured a master post on how I see each of the members for Animals Without Direction would be smart this way we're all on the same page.

Each of these aesthetic pictures are a rough description of their outfits. They're not exact by any means. Take each one with a grain of salt. Most of the pictures are a lot fancier/over the top than how I see them.

Bang Chan

Jarl of Miroh

I always picture Chan with his natural curly hair as the Jarl. He's always put together but has a very relaxed air and vibe to him.

If he's ever wearing his armor, it's simple, yet very regal-- he is the ruler of the land after all. But most of the time that we see him, he's in a casual tunic and slacks.

Lee Minho

Jarl's Advisor

I went back and forth on Minho's hair for this fic for a bit. But I settled on his longer brown hair. Specifically his brown hair that hangs in front of his eyes a bit rather than parted in the center.

Minho is always put together in this fic. You will not catch him in casual clothing. He is always in darker armor/fancy tunics. He takes his job as Chan's advisor extremely seriously.

Seo Changbin

Commander

Very much your typical Changbin look for this fic! (I'll take any excuse to post the right pic of Changbin, look at those biceps DAMN.)

I always had this specific armor look in my mind for Changbin; I need this man's biceps out in battle. I can only picture the Skyrim Steel Armor when I write him in this fic, I can't help it. Additionally, I just know he would have beautiful gauntlets on his forearms.

Hwang Hyunjin

Court Mage

Hyunjin's MAMA hair is just SO Elven I cannot get over it. His appearance was the easiest for me to settle on. Look at him in these pictures and tell me he doesn't look like a fire mage.

Hyunjin's always in red mage robes with fancy clothes underneath. Like Minho, he is always put together. There's never a wrinkle to be seen in his clothing. Picture something like this but with a hood as well.

Han Jisung

Court Diplomat

Fluffy brown haired Han Jisung has me in a death grip. I keep leaning back and forth between a darker or lighter brown, so just imagine somewhere in between these two looks for him. In his more relaxed moments, his hair will be on the curlier side.

As the court diplomat, he typically is just in fancy clothes that show off his status. You'll never see Jisung in armor, he doesn't really know how to fight nor does his position require any fighting skill.

Lee Felix

Court Healer

Blond mullet Felix says 'Elven' the same way Hyunjin's MAMA look does. Add the blue contacts on top of that and it's perfect for this story.

Felix's wears restoration school robes during the day and while he's working in the Healing Ward. But when he's not 'working' he's in a casual tunic and trousers like Chan usually is.

Kim Seungmin

Court Rogue/Assassin

Another look I went back and forth on, but I settled here. I thought about it a lot, but typically when I think about him in these scenes, he has his choppy bangs that hang over his eyes.

Now, his rogue armor in my mind does have a lot of embellishments/leather straps/buckles. I know he himself usually goes for plain outfits and clothes, but he's also very practical and knows what he needs when he goes out on jobs. He needs all those pockets and hidden sleeves for items.

Yang Jeongin

Jarl's Squire

Jeongin in the story has that boyish handsomeness to him that you can't quite put into words. He's not a child anymore by any means, he's grown and an official squire to the Jarl but he still has his naïve moments as he's still learning.

Jeongin's usual armor in the training yard is something more casual and easy to move in; something you would see most guards wear. But then, in battle, his armor is definitely something more eye catching and elegant. He has to show off his status among the other soldiers.

[straykits]

☾⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: evening star ; two *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

⋆*･ﾟ story preview. ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

pairing(s): knight!chan x princess!reader, mage!minho x princess!reader featuring: prince!hyunjin and others. story summary: you were soon to be married to a well liked and nobel prince from one of the wealthiest kingdoms. however, when the engagement ball takes a turn for the worst, you’re to try and reclaim your kingdom with the help of your knight and best friend chan, as well as the mage who you have a secret history with.

⋆*･ﾟ part two ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

wordcount: 13.9k chapter warnings: blades, mild violence, some injuries note that these warnings are specific to this chapter. if you read something you think should be tagged, please send me a message/ask. a/n: hihi! sorry for the long wait but she's here!! i did have to repost this for reasons which i won't get into, but anyhow. happy reading! taglist: @kpop--etc / @freckled-felixlee / @foivetimesacharm / @tremendousminyoongi / @wearethethunderousones / @chrisishungry100397 / @freckledquokka / @starrylino / @soulssung / @scarsnfevers / @sahazzy / @djeniryuu // unable to tag some :(( --- m.list | one | two | tbc...

It's cold.

That's all you can seem to think about as you slowly come to, the heaviness in your head tempting you to keep your eyes shut. Your ears are ringing dully, and your limbs feel heavy, the way they had years ago when you had first tried to swing Chan’s sword.

The memory blurs in your brain as you try to push yourself up. Your shoulder is killing you - you must have fallen asleep with your arm at a strange angle, but for how long? How long had you been on the staircase for your shoulder to hurt like this? There was nothing to indicate the passage of time that had passed, though the moon was viewable through a small cutout in the staircase. It shown down through the gap, cold moonlight casting an eerie blue glow over you

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Repeat.

As the ringing in your ears start to die down, an unsettling feeling overcomes you. It was quiet. Too quiet. There were no footsteps, no distant chatter or sounds of the quartet playing. There didn’t even seem to be any nightlife - the sounds of crickets and owls that you were positive almost always accompanied the night were no where to be heard. Had it always been this quiet?

As if the world was desperate to prove you wrong, the sound of clattering footsteps makes its way to your ears from below. There was the familiar footfall of the palace servants - more rushed and skitterish than normal, but the sound of their shoes on stone was one you had grown up with.

And then there’s the heavy sound of boots, creating a dull thud with every step.

“To the ballroom! Now!”

It was an unfamiliar, gravelly voice - none of the guards you knew sounded like that. None of them sounded that demanding. As the steps come nearer, you can make out panicked whispers and muffled crying.

Pushing yourself up, forcing your weak legs to hold you up, you scramble up the staircase, away from the noise. With each forced movement, whatever power had fatigued you seems to wash away.

Some part of you - the part that had grown up on adventure stories and fairy tails of princes saving princesses - wanted to run down and help whoever was crying. But you knew that wasn’t the smartest of ideas - and the castle staff, knowing their kind hearts, would tearfully scold you for putting yourself in danger for them.

The sound of your shoes on the stone stairs reverberates in your ear. Kicking them off, you continue barefooted up the staircase.

It was a good idea - not only were your steps quieter, but the cold floor beneath you was grounding. It shocked the drowsiness out of your system, heightened your senses.

And thank god for that, fpr had you continued on with your shoes, you may not have noticed the voices from the second floor until it was too late.

“Find her! She can’t have disappeared into thin air!”

Were they talking about you? So whatever had happened had been to target you?

The thought makes your blood run cold, a sudden wave of dizziness hitting you. To your knowledge, you had never been made the sole target for anything, and all the drills and procedures that you had been taught- they all revolved around someone escorting you away, someone protecting you.

But right now? You were alone, unsure who the enemy was and had no way to contact the only person you trusted. You didn’t even know where he was.

Your mind jumps to your mother - where was she? Was she alright? The last time you had seen her, she’d been in the ballroom. There had been plenty of guards in the ballroom. Hopefully, she was alright.

“Have you checked her room?” A new voice - familiar, but not enough that you can put a face to it in your panic.

“Yes, sir. She isn’t there.”

You wait, holding your breath and pushing yourself flat against the curved wall of the staircase as you wait for the men to move away - anywhere but down the staircase. It seemed an eternity before the one in charge replies.

“Fine. Go find some men and comb through the forest. If she somehow escaped, she can’t have gone far. Not in heels and a ball gown.”

“Yes, sir!”

Hearing their footsteps fade, you take the last few steps up to the top. To leave the temporary sanctuary offered by the darkness of the staircase seems like leaving the only safe haven you know, but you also know that almost nothing was ever permanent - stories of heroes could be immortalised by ink and tongue, but things like safety were only temporary.

Your bare feet pad across the cold floor, the lack of echo each time your feet hit the ground alien to you.

It was tiring and absolutely terrifying to look over your shoulder every few steps - what if, in that split second, someone appears in front of you? Or what if you look back, and someone is there? You weren't sure who the men were, who they worked for (if anyone at all), nor were you sure what they wanted.

Despite there having been men above and below the staircase, you manage to make your way down the hall without being spotted. When the door to your bedroom finally comes into view, the adrenaline increases in your veins - this was it, this was the last sprint. As soon as you're in, you can lock the door and then figure out your next move.

Taking a deep breath, you set off on a run to the door, feet falling hard against the ground.

Just as you reach the door, the sound of footsteps from down the hall reach you. You start fumbling the door handle, hands suddenly uncooperative and breath erratic and heart beating in your ears and the footsteps are speeding up, getting closer, closer, closer-

The door opens, and you barely manage to push it shut behind you as you stumble in. Spinning around, you throw yourself back against it, fingers struggling to lock the door based off of muscle memory.

You can hear the lock slide home, the click calming your nerves ever so slightly.

Finally, you were safe once again, your room providing temporary solace. And familiar, it could have been, had your room not look like it'd been torn apart.

The blankets on your bed had been pulled off, and the wardrobe doors thrown open. Closet doors had also been opened, and you could see the gaps in your clothes where someone had pushed them apart. And at the center of your room - the flowers you had been gifted earlier in the day, spilling over the edge of the table, the vase knocked over.

Whoever had come looking for you had really looked through everything, you thought, face warming despite all. But it should be the last thing on your mind, you chide yourself. There were more important matters at stake - like your life, and whatever on earth was going on.

Running to your open wardrobe, you rummage through the mess that had been left behind for something to change into, grabbing at the darkest thing you could find - a dark, velvet dress. You quickly undress, letting the stained tulle gown fall and bunch around your feet. Stepping out and kicking it aside ungracefully, you struggle to pull the velvet dress on while simultaneously digging around for something that wasn’t heels - it takes longer than you had thought to locate some riding boots. You crouch down, pulling at the laces.

How long would it be before someone was going to return to check your room? If you were still here, what would happen? Could you fight them off by yourself? ...No, probably not. You might be able to fling a few measly knives, but you had never been in combat of nay kind. If anyone returned, if anyone found you, you’d be helpless.

And then what? Would they take you to the ballroom, where it seemed they were gathering everyone, or would they lock you in the dungeon? Or would they ki-

Like a deer who had heard a twig snap, your body freezes when you hear your door rattle. Every joint in your body feels like it’s been locked in place, and your breath unable to leave your lungs. Had you overthought this all and imagined up the door rattling? Or was someone really outside, trying to get in?

It rattles again, a catalyst for movement as you crawl to your bed - an unsightly scene for a royal, but you couldn’t care less - and reach under the bedskirts. Your hand grasps at nothing until finally your fingers wrap around the string of the drawstring bag you had handed Chan earlier that morning. Pulling it out, you could hear the metal daggers sliding against one another, the harshness of the sound amplified against the stone even through the fabric of the bag.

Click.

Your breath is caught in your throat, trying so hard to force its way out that you feel like you’re about to puke. The drawstring bag seems to be stitched shut, your fingers prying helplessly at the string and the material.

Over your raging heart, you can hear the door shut softly.

Someone was in your room.

Hands shaking and sweating, you finally manage to tug the bag open, and you pull it wide, not caring for what noise it made - if someone was in your room, they were bound to find you anyways - and you reach inside, hands sliding against cold metal that sends shocks up your your arm.

Like some twisted nightmare, all you can see is a pair of black boots before you feel yourself being pushed over onto your back, the stranger putting his weight onto you and pinning your hands above your head with one hand, the other covering your mouth.

Eyes squeezed shut, you thrash around, kicking and twisting, yells muffled despite all your effort. The grip around your wrist was secure, preventing you from even twisting your hand around and nicking the person’s hand with the small dagger you had tried to hard to retrieve.

“Shut- Shut up, y/n, it’s me-”

Your body stills at the all too familiar voice. Eyes snapping open, You find Chan leaning over you, face flushed and eyes wide. He was panting, as if overpowering you had taken all the strength from him.

He releases your wrists, bringing a finger to his lips. Be quiet.

When you nod in response, he lifts his other hand from your mouth.

Without another thought in mind, you reach up and pull him down on top of you, hugging him tight despite your shaking limbs and burying your face into his shoulder. He smelled of the forest at night, the smell of earth and wood mixing with sweat and Chan.

“Chan, I thought you were someone else-”

Your breath rushes out, words barely squeezing past the sob in your throat.

Seeing Chan’s face made you want to cry; you wanted to be held, to be cradled in his arms and have him whisper words of comfort in your ear, for him to stroke your hair and tell you hey, everything’s alright, this is all just a bad nightmare and you’ll wake up soon.

He does stroke your hair - you feel his hand come under you, holding your head to the crook of his neck. He pats your head, hand running over your hair rhythmically until the adrenaline in your veins dissipates.

The smell of forest and night and Chan, the feeling of fabric between your nails and your palm, the sensation of being held by someone safe - it grounded you, each rattling breath shaking out the fear from your mind.

Slowly, your hands open and release his shirt. Even with your arms loose around his torso, Chan continues to hold you, and then you feel it, adrenaline leaving the room for your senses to recover.

His arms around you are strong - you’ve always known that he was strong - but they’re tense, as if he was restraining himself from holding you any tighter than he already was. You can hear his breaths, forcibly steady and controlled, and his hands are shaking against your hair as he calms you down, leaving an onlooker to wonder who it really was that needed the comfort.

He gulps, and you think he’s about to say something, but he pulls back. Still on top of you, he looks down, his bangs hanging and brushing against your forehead. He seems to be scanning your eyes, your face, for something that you couldn’t quite figure out. Injuries, perhaps? Or was he trying to see if you were still scared?

With each passing second, you can see his eyes soften. Simply looking at you, it seems, was enough to ground Chan.

“Did- Did you lock the door?” you break the silence after a while, and Chan blinks rapidly.

As if suddenly remembering that he was straddling your hips and leaning over you, he throws himself to the side, rolling into a kneeling position. He nods minutely, glancing across the room to the door. Though it stands silently, though you can't help noticing the feeling of impending doom it seems to radiate.

You push yourself up from the floor, retrieving the dagger you had discarded upon recognising Chan. The metal is unnervingly cold against the palm of your hand, and you quickly drop it back into the bag.

"What happened?"

Chan is across the room, peering out one of the two windows in your room. His eyes flick to you, and quickly back out the window when he catches you staring at him.

You shake your head, still trying to piece it all together yourself. "I don't- I don't know. I was going back to my room-"

"Why?"

"To change my dress - There was an accident-"

"Accident?"

"Yes, I knocked into someone- No, they knocked into me- Oh, I can't remember, but my dress got stained, so I was told to go back to my room and wait for a new dress. I was- I was on my way to my room, and then everything started getting all... weird, and it was like the castle was moving - I couldn’t - I couldn’t walk fast enough, and I was scared, and the torches kept moving and-" It was all mixed up in your brain. You could picture it all happening, could see yourself talking to the maid, could see the hallway, the fire and dancing shadows on the wall-

"Breathe, your highness. You're safe right now. I'm here." Chan had, at some point, made his way over to you. He had his hands on your shoulder, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. "Now, have you been in your room all this time?"

“I-” shuddering breath in, shuddering breath out. “No. I only made it to the stairs before I... before I fell asleep.”

Once you had calmed down, Chan starts the questioning. What do you remember seeing? How long were you asleep? What did you hear? You had expected this to happen, and tried to recall all the details.

The story, though short, slowly unravels, and Chan shares his side too. He had been making his rounds, ensuring everyone was stationed where they were supposed to be when he noticed the change in the atmosphere - everything had gone quiet. He’d found one of his men on the ground - unwounded, but asleep, and Chan couldn’t wake him up. He would have kept trying, but then he saw the group of men approaching the castle.

“There were too many for me to try and beat. And I didn’t know how many more there were, and it was just- there were too many risks.” Chan had regret painted all over his face. You knew how much it must have hurt him to walk past his men, all on the ground, and be able to do nothing to help them. “But they said it had worked. And I don’t know what it is, but from the looks of it...”

“Magic.”

The word hangs in the air, a dark cloud that could bring anything from a light shower to a thunderous storm. No one really knew what the nature of magic was - after so many years of separation between the magical and non-magical, there was little interest in educating the non-magic folk of what magic really was. Magic was wild, something you nor Chan could fully comprehend.

“What I don’t understand,” Chan starts, pacing around the room, “Is why you were the only one who woke up. I mean - I assume I was outside of the spell’s perimeter, but you, your highness... Everyone was asleep, when I made my way here. No matter how hard I tried to wake them, no one would open their eyes. They were all breathing, though.” A reassurance, for himself or for you, no one knows.

You had an idea about why you were awake. A voice, a memory, a boy from long ago. You were sure he was connected to this somehow, that he had somehow tried to protect you - he had told you to run, had he not? That had to have been his voice.

But you knew that mentioning him to Chan right now wouldn’t be the best of ideas. Chan - always protecting you, always ready to cut down anything that could be a risk to you - was already sure magic was the root of whatever trouble you were now in, and to tell him that the reason you woke up was most likely because of someone’s magic?

No; Chan wouldn’t just be pointing fingers - he’d be pointing a sword at whoever’s name you let slip.

So instead, you shake your head. “But what now? We can’t stay here and wait the spell out,” you reason. “Besides, I heard the men moving everyone to the ballroom. We- We can’t even stay here.”

The realisation settles in your mind, a cold blanket that seemed to freeze you in place.

You had… never spent a night outside of the castle before. Chan had, of course, but he had been out with people who were able to protect themselves, able to take care of themselves.

But what were you, if not a princess who had grown up sheltered by the castle? And sure, you theoretically knew your way around a blade, but you could barely do more than hit within two meters of your target.

"...And I know we don't have time, but we'll figure this out, okay?"

You would be nothing more than a burden on Chan; extra baggage that he had to carry and take care of, whether he wanted to or not.

"I won't let anything bad happen to you or our kingdom. I promise."

Sometimes, you simply wished for a life free of the responsibilities you and Chan had.

"Your highness?"

It was hard to shake the thoughts from your head, though you tried - too much was at stake right now for you to get lost in your own shortcomings.

"Y/n," comes Chan's voice, closer and softer than it had been a moment ago, drawing you away from all the possibilities of the past, present and future. "I know this is overwhelming, but I need you here with me, okay?"

He raises a hand, palm cupping your cheek and thumb swiping under your eye - had you been crying? You hadn't even realised.

"I'm here," you tell him, and despite your voice betraying you, you really were present. Wiping away at your tears, you take a deep breath. "I'm here," you say again, more confidently this time.

"Good. Now,” Chan takes a breath that seems to rattle his body as much as you felt rattled. “Go grab that dagger from above your bed."

It takes a moment for your feet to move; once they do, it was like everything was being sped up.

You had to get up on the bed to reach the dagger. You go to step on your pillows, almost falling as they move under your weight, and kick them out of the way. They fall onto the floor with light thumps, and you reach up for the dagger.

“What about the prince?” You ask as you unhitch the blade from where it was mounted. The light catches on the star etched at the hilt, flashing as you move off the bed and back to Chan. “Him and his men aren’t familiar enough with the castle to-”

“With all due respect, my only responsibility right now is you,” Chan replies. He isn’t cold or dismissive, but his tone tells you he wasn’t going to compromise your safety for anyone else. “There are too many unknowns right now for us to try and find him.”

He’s standing by your window, peering out of it from the side. You sneak a glance out, curious as to what he was watching.

Nothing. He was watching nothing.

All was still outside your window, which overlooked the back of the castle. The forest was dimly lit by the moon, though you could see the shadow of clouds inching closer and closer. The only thing that seemed to move - even the trees seemed like they were still, unmoving against the wind that moved the clouds.

“Are we… Are we going?”

He nods silently, solemnly, before turning on his heels with what seems to you like newfound determination. Had he been thinking all this time? Trying to come up with a plan?

Well, you’d probably know had you not been so caught up in your thoughts before.

“Now listen, your highness.” Chan is busy rummaging through your bag of knives as he talks. “It’s just the two of us, so I should be able to fight should anyone come at us. But in the case that someone gets to you, you use the dagger, all right? And if you don’t have your dagger, use your body. Fists, elbows, knees. Connect with the throat, with the eyes. You might not be strong enough to faze an armoured person with a hit to the torso."

You nod, repeating the words in your head. Dagger, fists and elbows, throat and eyes.

“These will be too loud if we’re to carry them around, and we don’t have any harnesses on us.” He balls the bag up, sliding it and the daggers across the floor and back under your bed. He turns to you next, hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes with a fierceness that almost shakes you. “If we get separated, you run into the forest, okay? You aim for the forest, and get as far in as you can. I’ll find you.”

Brows furrowing, you shake your head. “You- You say that like I’d leave you behind.”

“You have to, if I get caught- If I’m fighting someone. If you have the chance to run, you run, okay?”

You continue to stare at him, at Chan, who had been by your side all your life, who was asking you to leave him behind if the situation called for it.

“Promise me, your highness. If I tell you to go, you go, okay?”

He’s looking at you with such seriousness, with so much will and determination and need for you to to promise. And, were you to look closer, look longer, you’d see the fear in his eyes.

What was it that he knew, that he had thought about that you hadn’t quite comprehended about the situation yet? Surely it wasn’t so bad that Chan would have to… sacrifice himself, right?

“Y/n, I need to know you’ll be safe if I-”

“I promise.” The words manage their way up and out your mouth, leaving a vile taste behind. It was both a truth, and a lie. I promise I’ll be safe. I won’t leave you behind.

—

The plan had seemed simple when Chan had talked you through it, and perhaps it was naive of you to take his words at face value. You definitely thought so now, as you almost run into Chan for the third time as he stops abruptly at a corner.

Ahead, you can hear the sounds of voices - not hushed, but far enough that you can't make out any of the words. They slowly grow louder, louder, footsteps drowing out the words, and then all the sounds fade out all together.

“Okay, let's go.”

After a moment of silence, Chan moves again. You follow closely behind, glancing back every few seconds to make sure that no one had walked around the corner.

You were near a staircase, you knew. Another small spiraling one, not unlike the one you had fallen asleep upon.

Chan stops before the entrance. He pokes his head in, cocks his head slightly to the side - you wait, heart beating in your ears until Chan gives the all clear.

The pair of you descend the stairs, the cold entrapped in the small, stone-walled space sending shivers down your spines. You spare but the smallest thought to curse yourself silently for forgetting to bring coats - but this wasn’t a planned outing, really. Who had the luxury of time to remember coats?

As yellow torchlight can be seen reflected on the walls of the staircase, Chan turns his head to speak to you in a hushed voice.

“Once we exit the staircase, we’ll head straight for the back door. Once outside, head straight for the forest. If we get separated, meet near the clearing where you practice-”

Chan disappears from your sight, thrown to the left with a grunt of pain.

“Chan!”

You quickly descend the last few steps, turning to find Chan on the floor, an arm over his head protectively. As you go to take a step towards him, mind gone in your panic to see if he’s alright, your feet leave the ground.

“Let- Let go of me!”

The person behind you has a hand around each wrist, pushing your arms against your chest as they lift you off your feet. You’re kicking and yelling, the dagger in your hand useless with what little range of motion you have.

As if you were but a pillow, the person - a man, you guessed, from the grunts in your ear and the thick, muscular arms around you, - carries you over closer to Chan.

“It wouldn’t do his highness any good to leave someone so devoted to the princess alive-”

You freeze as dread feels your veins, your mind, every part of your body, filling you in a way that seemed to offset your balance.

His highness? He couldn’t mean- no-

The man moves you to the side, jerking motion pulling a cry from you. He pulls his leg back, prepares to kick Chan. You shut your eyes tight as you can, turning your head away - to see Chan in pain right now, to see him be hurt, would crush your spirit.

“Don’t worry, some of your buddies will be joining you soon,” the man says, before bringing his leg forward and-

A sharp curse is yelled into your ear before you feel yourself fall, eyes staying shut until you feel the body behind - no, beneath you, make impact with the ground.

The man’s arms loosen around you just enough for you to pull an arm free. The dagger, held so tight in your hand that you feel like it’s hilt would be imprinted into your palm, swings behind you blindly. There’s a shout of pain before the tip skids along the stone ground.

Whatever damage you had done was enough of a surprise for the man to release you.

You roll off of him, being sure to keep the blade of the dagger away from you, and scramble to your feet. Eyes wide, you take in the scene before you.

Chan, still on the ground, was pulling the man towards him by the foot; had he stayed on the floor on purpose to pull the perpetrator down with him?

“Chan-”

“Go, y/n!

You stare in horror as the man, getting dragged slowly but surely towards Chan, starts to come back to his senses and recover from the initial shock of the fall. Chan, while not lacking in the muscle department, looked like he would be done for if he took another few hits.

And yet he wanted you to leave him.

It was his job, you knew, but still-

“I’ll be right behind you! Just go!” Chan yells, half frantic and half commanding, eyes jumping haphazardly between you and the slowly awakening man. “You promised!”

You had, and yet you had also promised yourself you wouldn’t abandon him. But what use were you if you stayed?

Chan wouldn’t be able to use his sword, not at that close a distance. You knew enough about battle to know that. So you do the only thing you can for him in that moment.

“Here!”

Before Chan could even look at you, you slide the dagger in your hand towards him, hilt first. It glides across the ground, metal against stone filling your ears, and as it passes the man, a brief image of him grabbing it and diving forward at Chan flashes in your mind.

But he doesn’t grab for it, and the dagger comes to a stop at Chan’s knees. He looks at it in shock, confusion, then back at you and nods.

Now, go, his eyes seem to say.

A strange calmness had settled in Chan’s face, as if he had come to some final decision, had accepted something.

A pit of newfound discomfort makes its home in your stomach, but you do, this time. You go slowly at first, one step back, two, and then you turn your back and run.

You can hear grunts and yells as you run away from Chan and the other man. You can hear him yelling to let anyone nearby know that the princess was getting away, but you don’t turn back to see if anyone’s following you. Part of you feared you would lose your footing if you did, the harsh sounds of your running steps a driver to keep you going, and the other feared the potential scene you had left behind.

It was awfully difficult to run in the velvet dress. Though no where near the heaviest dress you had worn, the way the skirt’s layers moved against your legs seemed to act like a barrier. You fought on, pulling it up to free your ankles of the resistance. The echoes of your steps fill your ears, heart beating against your chest, in your ears, as the wooden door you had come through this morning finally becomes visible. As if in response to your near success, you can hear the sounds of more men coming - the clunking of armour, of swords being unsheathed, of incoherent orders being yelled.

You push the door, the velvet of the dress catching on the old wooden door; though reinforced with iron bars, the door itself had stood sturdy for as long as you can remember, and though well maintained, time had brought forth a few chips. It stood strong, even now, and your face scrunches up in effort - had it always been this heavy? - until finally, finally it groans open.

Cold night air slips through the gap, drying your eyes and piercing your already pained lungs further. You step out, one foot, then the other, and the door slams shut behind you.

The vast silence that greets you is deafening.

Despite the breeze that had slipped through the door, the air was still. Lack of wind didn’t make you any less cold, and you feel a shiver run through your body as you scan the horizon.

The forest behind the castle seemed frozen in place, and had it not been for the eerie way the clouds floated above the trees, you’d have no trouble believing someone had stopped time in its place.

Draped in the blues and purples of night, the stone stairs that lead down the east side of the castle and to the stream that separated the castle grounds from the forest looked colder than ever. You had fallen on them once when you were younger, the cold biting into your palms when you had gone to brace yourself. To fall again now might mean more than just scratched up hands and knees.

You hands fist at your sides when you feel the unnerving thoughts fill your mind. Into the forest, Chan had said. As far in as you can go, and he’ll find you.

He’ll find you. He would always find you, unless-

You take a deep, bone-rattling breath in and let the pain of cold air in your nose ground you. Pulling your skirts up once more, you make your way down the stairs.

Steady but fast, you descend the stairs. Each step reverberates through your body, the sound of your own breathing in your ears.

You didn’t dare to concentrate on anything other than placing one foot before the other and not missing a step - a tumble would be detrimental to everything, would put you at risk, would make Chan’s sac- would mean that Chan had stayed behind to fight for nothing.

Your boots make contact with grass, the soft surface of the new ground unsettling to your legs. One step, two, a glance behind. The door stood dark and unmoving - had the men not seen you leave it, or were they occupied elsewhere?

It mattered not - you take a deep gulp, cold air filling your throat, your lungs, before you start running towards the stream. Just past there, and you would be at the forest. While you had yet to explore the entire forest, you knew most of it, and you were certain that at the very least, you knew it better than the men who were attacking the castle.

The men who were attacking the castle… His highness, the man had said.

You were in denial, you knew, but there was only one person that you were aware of that held that title.

Your throat seemed to close up at the thought - the prince had been nothing but kind to you and your servants, had done nothing but try to get to know your land better… and it all could have been an act.

Yet some part of you wanted to believe he was better than that - better than someone who acted kind and gentle, who spoke fondly of their men, their friends, just to sympathise and get on your good side. But he had said it himself, no? That with the lives of their people in their hands, there are things that royals need to sacrifice?

The maelstrom of thoughts is pushed from your head when your feet meet new ground once again. The stream is shallow and unmoving, and yet dragging your feet through the water seemed to require a great deal more energy than ever before. It’s cold, the width from one side to the other large enough that despite your boots, your feet seem numb by the time you reach the other side. Your skirt, though you had held it as high as you could manage, had been caught by the river in the crossing and now seemed to drag behind you as you trudge through the last stretch of land to the forest.

And just in time.

Shouts from the castle reach your ears as you step between the trees, and you turn to see silhouettes of men, flames from their torches lighting up the sides of their face. Too far away for you to make out if the three of them were your men or not, yet close enough that they could see you should they descend the stairs.

So you push aside the small slimmer of hope that these were Chan’s men and scurry into the forest.

It was dark, twigs and leaves on the ground catching on your dress as you make your way in, and yet you found an odd comfort in the shadows of the trees. If the people chasing you were in fact from another land - you refused to even think that they might be your people - then being in the forest that you had explored since you were young would, theoretically, put you at an advantage. You might not know the entire forest inside and out, but you knew it well enough that you were confident you would be able to evade the pursuers.

At first, you follow the path you normally take when you go off in the early mornings to practice your knife throwing. Down between the two trees, perfectly lined up with each other, past the boulder that Chan had once chased you around - Chan- no, don’t get distracted - and down the steady slope, the well-trekked path obvious for it lacked foliage and branches in the way.

It was obvious.

So without a second thought, you turn to your right and dash madly in between the trees, losing yourself in their shadows.

No one had really ever travelled off the path, especially not this close to the castle grounds. The ground was far more uneven than the path before, sticks catching on your skirt, hitting the leather of your riding boots - you could feel the small thumps. Even your sleeves, though not wide, caught on the lower branches as you tried to push them out of the way. There was little to light your path but whatever moonlight managed to slip past the trees, highlighting the odd patch of forest ground. Leaves and rocks, roots and fallen branches. You tried to avoid what you could, tried your best to keep your footing, but it wasn’t long before you tripped.

Hands met the ground and a jarring pain shoots up your left arm. You try to stop the cry of pain from escaping your lips, your mouth opening in pained silence as your left hand gives way and you fall onto your side.

The ground is rough through the velvet of the dress, rocks digging into your shoulder as you cradle your arm to your chest. You give yourself only a second, two, to collect yourself. Your wrist hurt, the initial sharp pain dulling down to a strong throb that made you feel like your veins were about to burst with each pulse.

You push yourself up, forcing your legs to carry you further across the forest.

It feels an age before you finally come to a stop, hand against a tree to support yourself as laboured breathing hurts your chest, your head almost woozy from the adrenaline, the exhaustion, the panic and the confusion and the fact that you just didn’t know what was going on and if Chan was even-

Snap.

You force yourself to hold you breath mid-inhale, force your muscles to freeze and your mind to quiet down and your ears to listen.

Snap. Snap.

it wasn’t coming from directly behind you. You gulp, turning your head to your right, squinting against the darkness in some hope it would make your vision clearer.

There’s someone there, and even silhouetted from a distance, you can tell they’re in bad shape - one hand held a sword, the other their side, and with each step forward, a limp becomes more noticeable.

They raise their sword hand in greeting and it takes you a second to process.

Chan*.***

You trip in your haste to get to him, barely managing to regain your footing before your next step propels you forward. You’re stumbling across the ground and you feel the twigs get caught in your skirt, feel your feet kick them out of the way, but you don’t bother to hold your skirt up. The pain in your arm was holding you back from doing so, yes, but the sheer fact that Chan was alright and was here and that you’d found each other - that fact was enough for you to push forward.

You seem to reach him before he does you, your eyes drawing instantly to his left side - a hand was holding a piece of fabric to his side, and as your eyes scan him, you notice he had only one sleeve; he’d torn one off, using it as temporary gauze to stop what you can only imagine to be bleeding. The sword was held loosely in one hand, and to his thigh, your dagger was strapped.

“You’re a mess,” you whisper into the night, heart aching. Your fingers reach out, first for the wound at his side, then to cup his face, but they move ever so minutely that when you stop yourself - you’re a princess, damn it, and Chan was your knight; such acts weren’t befitting of your positions at all - Chan doesn’t even realise you had moved at all.

He chuckles, despite his appearance. Chan drops his sword and lifts his hand to your head, pulling something from your hear and flicking it away. “You’re one to talk.”

You pout, suddenly self conscious and try to clean off whatever dirt had clung to your dress. “Well, you could hardly expect me to look presentable, given the situation.”

“Ah.” Chan grimaces, as if suddenly reminded of the present. “The situation. We- We should get going, deeper into the forest and find somewhere to hide for the mean time.”

“Will you be okay? How bad is the wound?”

He nods, face set in a smile. “It’s nothing life threatening - just a graze,” he comments. “Just a bit of blood-”

He’s cut off as you reach for the dagger strapped to his leg.

“What are you-”

Reaching for the hem of your skirt, you drag the blade across the fabric. It rips with a satisfying sound. Dropping the dagger onto the forest floor, you continue to tear the fabric from the bottom of your dress. Your face burns - standing in front of Chan with your skirt pulled almost to your waist to tear the fabric… you somehow still had the mind to feel self-conscious.

“You can’t just hold that the entire time,” you explain with a final tug to the skirt. It falls back around your legs, higher than before. With a gulp and furiously burning ears, you wrap your arms around Chan’s torso, pulling the fabric around his waist twice before securing it with a knot. “There. Now your hands are free.”

Standing back, you smile at your work.

“Okay, let’s go,” you say and turn.

Though you were ready to move, Chan doesn’t budge. Your muscles relax in confusion, head cocking in question.

His eyes are on you. They’re dark, shadowed by his features, silhouetted by however much moonlight manages to trespass the trees, but you can feel his gaze.

“You’re not…” He gulps, taking in a shuddering breath that causes him to wince, and slowly exhales. “You’re not injured, are you?”

Eyes softening, you feel the urge to cup his cheek again. You shake your head gently. The pain in your arm was easing - it was nothing worth him fretting over.

But how could he, bleeding as he was, still be concerned for your wellbeing?

“I’m fine.” A gentle smile tugs at your lips, and you eye the makeshift bandage around his torso. “Start worrying about yourself more.”

Chan's concern falters and he scoffs. “It's my job to worry about you, your highness.”

He was right, you knew. It was his job, had been his job for as long as you could remember.

“We should get moving, though.” Chan breaks the silence that had fallen between the two of you. “If I were in their shoes, it won’t be along until I either loop back around or send out a full search party to cover the entire forest.”

“So what do we do?”

Your question is met with silence. Chan’s eyes had fixated on a spot on the ground, though you knew he wasn’t really looking at the ground. He had zoned out, the way he does when he gets lost in his thoughts.

Giving him his moment to think, you collect the dagger from the ground. It’s clean, void of any violence it may have taken part in. The blade shone in the night, edges sharp and though cold, the weight of it in your hand brings you an odd sense of comfort.

It reminded you of a time in your childhood when you’d carried an identical blade through these woods.

“I think I know where we can go.” It’s a rush of words as the idea fills your mind, as your brain tries to figure out the kinks in your underdeveloped plan. “He would help us. I know he would.”

An incredulous look passes Chan’s face, so theatrical and comedic that you almost burst out laughing despite the situation.

“’He’? Who is ‘he’?” Chan, so perplexed by the fact that you were acquainted with a boy outside the castle, is frozen in place. “Do I know this person? Why- How do you-” He clears his throat, composes himself, and tries to regain neutrality on his face. “I apologise, princess, but I… have been with you for years, have barely left your side when outside the castle walls… so please forgive my confusion at the moment.”

Though you’d not seen him since that night long ago, you knew he was here. Knew he had stayed in your kingdom, and knew he resided on the outskirts of the town. Any and all businesses who dealt in or with magic were to send official notice to the castle regarding the purpose of their business. Along with a variety of other contracts, it was a method through which the use of magic could be indirectly monitored. The practice had been picked up by all the kingdoms, and any one found to profit off of their magic outside of what they had agreed to would be punished.

You had spied Minho’s name, once, in one of the books that kept such details. An address had been scrawled next to it, and though you had read it out of interest, you had never expected to remember it, especially in a situation like this.

But a mage, you realise, would be the last person Chan would turn to. And how were you to explain how you knew him? How were you to explain why he would help you, without having Chan go off at you about how stupid your decisions had been?

So instead, you take in a slow, deep breath. Tilting your head back to look up at the moon concealed by trees, you exhale. It shone bright, a beautiful sight in the treacherous night.

“Do you trust me, Chan?”

He doesn’t miss a beat, voice filled with absolute certainty as he crosses an arm over his chest and lowers his head into a bow.

“With my life, my princess.”

You and Chan were fortunate enough to not run into anyone as you made your way around the castle grounds. The adrenaline pushes you, keeps your legs working and your ears on high alert. Many times, he had pushed you against a tree, his arm or even his body pressed against yours at the faintest possibility of running into anyone.

You held your breath in these moments. The proximity at which he held you left little space for you to even inhale as deeply as you needed to calm your breathing, and besides - the sound would be too loud to hear anything over it.

When the trees finally start thinning, your legs are heavy and your lungs feel something akin to having had inhaled a thousand thorns.

The forest ended at the top of the hill. To your right, the gates to the castle, the long road up hidden by the night. Before you, the town lay spread out. The houses clustered, divided at intervals to form the many streets. Lit windows were few, and yet you thought that you could almost, if you tried hard enough, hear the hearty laugh of men at pubs.

“Your highness, are you alright? On the edge of the forest may not be the wisest of places for us to rest, perhaps we should-”

Shaking your head, you gather your skirts once more and lift your head. “No, no rest. I was simply sentimental, for a moment. I apologise - such feelings will do us no good right now.”

An expression of confliction crosses Chan’s face, so brief that when you look at him, he looked impassive.

“So, where does this… this person live? Where are we headed?”

The address tumbles from your lips, pulling from Chan a strained look.

“That’s on the other side of the town-”

“But we’ve few, if any other choices,” you reason. “We can’t possibly return to the castle nor can we try and make it to the next town over with nothing on us. We don’t even have money, Chan.”

“Then the people of the town-”

“Will insist on helping us, I know, but I will not take advantage of their kindness when such a thing could put them in danger.” The words come out with much more force than you had intended, the subtle escalation of your conversation with Chan having taken the better of you.

But Chan is seemingly unaffected by it. He regards you with a thoughtful gaze, eyes dancing with both amusement and respect. “Very well. Across town we shall go, your highness.”

Tonight was a night of many firsts for you. The first time you had ever had to flee your home, the first time your life had ever been in danger, the first time you had ever genuinely feared losing Chan.

The feeling had been so alien to you, so impossible to ever fathom, so unnecessary to even had imagined in the past, that as you walked through the sleeping streets of the town you had grown to love so much, you had to resist holding onto Chan like you had when you were a child. It would be silly now, to hold his hand as you had in the past whilst sneaking around the castle. This wasn’t a game anymore; the consequences of being found by the wrong people wasn’t forced study in the library. It was worse, much worse.

So why not hold his hand? Keep him close, know he’s safe - not that you would be able to do much of the protecting, you knew.

But as it had been in the past - when one was in trouble, so too would be the other.

Your fingers flex at your side now, itching to reach out and hold onto Chan as he peers around the corner to ensure no one was there.

He tenses, the same time the sound of a girl's laughter reaches your ear. Footsteps are fast to fade, alongside the quiet murmurs of a man, loud in the soundless night. Lovers, perhaps, heading home together as the night grows old.

A quick gesture of the hands from Chan indicates that it was safe to move. The two of you dart out of the small alley you had been hiding in and enter the town square.

Another first to add to the list; never had you seen the town square bathed in the silver light of the moon, street lamps flickering orange and crossing at the center of the square. Perhaps it was your circumstances, but the emptiness of the town square leaves an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

Chan leads you around the edge, behind empty stalls and shrubbery. Your footsteps echo off the walls of the buildings, playing back into your ears as if to emphasise the emptiness of the town.

“Half way there,” Chan mumbles as he enters a dark alley.

Had that alley always been there? Had any of the roads you’d taken always been there? You knew, realistically speaking, they had been - and yet you could not recall ever having seen them before. Perhaps the street that the bakery had been on, you’d seen before - but the alley that smelt of old blood and meat, the alley that had crates of empty glass bottles stacked by the door. How did Chan know of these roads, of these many paths? Had he memorised the map of the town, the many streets that had never existed to you before now?

It was his job, you supposed, to know these things. And yet the sheer ability to know his way across the town amazed you. Had he ever walked these roads before, or was he simply relying on his mind’s eye, on the chance of an accurate mental recall of the many maps he’d studied?

The scenery had changed - houses were few now, the paths between buildings more dirt and stone than they were stoned tiles, like they’d been in the town square. As you and Chan make your way down the street, Chan a hand on his sword the whole time, you can’t help but marvel at the contrast present in just this one town. Had you not walked here with your own two feet, you would have believed this to be a whole new place. The town you were familiar with had tiled floors, had flowers blooming on the balconies and children in pinks and blues, greens and purples. Not the browns and creams that hung from laundry lines at the front of the houses in the night.

“Up ahead,” Chan breaths, and your eyes scan the distance.

It wasn’t hard to spot, really. The only lit house in the dark street, windows warm with yellow light. There was a sign hanging by the window, but you couldn’t make out the words - weather had gotten the better of the paint. It swung feebly with a passing breeze.

“I trust you, your highness.” Hushed words leave Chan’s lips, followed by a resigned sigh. “I just hope your own trust isn’t misplaced. If they so much as look like they’re going to hurt you, I’ll-”

“He won’t, Chan.” You place a hand on his arm. After a moment, you feel his muscles relax, and Chan moves towards the lit house.

He��� won’t, right? You believed he wouldn’t - The last time you had seen him, he had been afraid. He hadn’t hurt you, though you knew he could have. He had listened to you, and you to him, and he had accepted what little help you could offer. You wanted to believe that people were good - that kindness would be remembered.

And yet, back at the castle, his highness-

“There’s someone inside.” Chan, nearing the lit window, holds a hand out to stop you. “I can’t be sure, but it seems to only be one person.”

It’s him. You swallow nervously.

How had the years changed him? Had they even changed him? Would he recognise you at all?

Chan was right. There was someone in the house, their silhouette faint against the window. They were moving around, though it was near impossible to tell what they were doing.

“Are you sure this is the house, your highness? And if so, are you sure this person can be trusted? We don’t know what will happen in the next few hours-”

“Well, we’ve little other choice.” Your statement is all you manage to get out before you push past Chan’s hand. It was now or never - dawdling by his door wouldn’t change the current situation.

Chan makes a shocked sound of protest as you push past him, but he doesn’t move to stop you - only to follow you, and you’re aware of his hand securing it’s grasp on his sword.

Standing in front of the door, you could make out the sound of running water. You raise a shaking hand, fingers curling uncertainly before you squeeze them into a fist and rap on the door. Three quick knocks, breath caught somewhere in your throat as you wait for a response.

Chan speaks up from behind you, voice urgent. “Your highness, please step back-”

The door swings open abruptly, causing you to flinch back in shock.

The heart is a funny thing, really. How can it hold so many emotions at once?

Looking at Minho after so many years was strange. It was like he hadn't aged at all, and yet he looked like he had matured twice as fast as you. His face, though as angular as it had been that night so long ago, was now more jawline and cheekbones, as opposed to malnourishment.

“Lower your weapon, knight, or else I’ll blast you from my door.”

He speaks with a tired drawl, though you see the way his eyes quint in suspicion.

“Minho, it’s me-”

“Yes, I saw you,” he cuts in, eyes still trained behind you. “Not as flashy as your friend’s sword, unfortunately.”

It’s a cold response, not at all what you had expected, but you turn all the same and glare at Chan.

“I told you he wouldn’t hurt us, so-”

“He just said he would blast me from the door-”

“Because you’re waving a great, big sword around, idiot,” Minho says with a roll of his eyes. He’s leaning against the door, body blocking the rest of his house.

“I’m her highness’ knight,” Chan states defiantly, as if challenging Minho. His gaze lingers on Chan for a second longer before he looks at you - really looks at you.

It feels like ice piercing through you, his eyes reading every thought in your head. He knows why we’re here, a small voice in your head tells you. But how could he possibly know that?

“’Her highness,’ huh.” Minho lets the words sit on his tongue, lets it mull over in his head as he regards you. His gaze falls briefly to the dagger in your hand. “Well, I don’t suppose that after all these years you just decided to spontaneously come by in the middle of the night to see how I’m doing, so it’s probably best I invite you in,” he concludes with a sigh. “Tell your knight to sheath his sword, or it’ll be as existent as his sleeve there.”

“We- We don’t have sheaths on us,” you explain hesitantly. “Or anything, really. Just his sword, and the dagger. Not even any money.”

Minho looks down at you - he was taller than you and held himself with such an air of indifference that you couldn’t bare to maintain eye contact. Were you right to come here at all? To ask for help, and, despite your position, have nothing to offer in return?

A defeated sigh leaves him before he steps aside. “Whatever. Hurry in, then.”

He steps aside and after a moment’s hesitation, you make your way into his house.

It was cozy, unlike the great stone walls of your home. Sure, the library fireplace was warm and comforting, but the sheer size of the castle and all of its many rooms were nothing compared to the small space Minho lived in.

Dried plants hung over the window, each bundle a different kind. The table was laid not with the remnants of a meal well eaten, but with more plants and glass bottles, books opened with feathers marking different sections, and a range of things you barely had time to try and identify before you were ushered further into the house.

A fire blazed low in the corner of the room, opposite a messy looking kitchen. The sink was filled with unwashed dishes and more glass bottles, which you had only ever seen in books before. Few chairs were scattered around the room - wooden chairs that you assumed to belong to the table out front were occupied by books and blankets, and a long, two-person sofa had been turned into a makeshift bed. In the corner between the sofa and the fireplace, two wooden doors lead off into unknown areas of the house.

“Well, do sit down,” Minho says with a wave of his hand. Static seems to fill the air as items move from the chairs to the floor, neatly stacking themselves upon one another. “Having the princess and her royal knight standing about my living room is making me quite… anxious, for lack of a better word.”

You watch in amazement as the blankets fold themselves up.

“You’re a magic user?!” Chan whirls on Minho, eyes wide in shock. There’s an edge of something akin to fear or anger - you can’t quite place it, distracted instead by the way the room accommodates for two more people.

“What, your princess didn’t mention that I’m a mage?” Minho retorts, amusement in his eyes. “Shame. But that seems the least of your problems, if you’re coming to my door at this hour. Now, sit.”

An invisible force maneuvers you and Chan down into the sofa. Chan falls with an indignant sound - was this his first time encountering magic? You’d never talked to Chan about magic, before. Nothing beyond stories of faeries and witches, curses and potions.

“Minho,” you begin, before Chan could say anything to worsen a relationship you were surprised had started off on such bad footing. “We- we need you help. I need your help.”

You meet his eye, and for the first time that night, Minho holds your gaze with a seriousness that felt befitting of the situation. Was he aware, after all, of the situation? You were sure that the voice you had heard earlier that night had been his. But no matter how you tried to rethink the situation, there was nothing you could think of that would explain why he had told you to run.

Perhaps you had imagined it, in your drowsed, sluggish state, but you search his face all the same, for any sign that he had sent you the message, had been aware of the potential danger you had been in.

He turns away, a shrug of his shoulders the only sign that he had heard your request at all.

Minho moves to the sink, and in a surprising act of normalcy, picks of a sponge and turns on the tap. He begins to wash his dishes.

Chan glances towards you - this person who you had believed would help obviously showed no care about whatever predicament you were in.

You fidget nervously at the velvet of your dress. Minho places a soaped up plate in the adjacent sink.

“I was hoping-”

“If you knew where to find me,” he suddenly says, his back still towards you and Chan, “Then you’ll know I run a business. Magical assistance in exchange for payment. And, as I recall, the pair of you are quite penniless at the moment.”

“Her highness is still the royal princess.” Chan sounded like he was speaking in court, stating facts as if to argue their case. His voice was clear, rock solid despite your wavering faith in Minho. “Whilst we may currently be in a difficult situation, rest assured that your assistance, should it be provided and adequate, will be rewarded fittingly.”

Minho doesn’t reply to this. He continues to wash his dishes. In the silence, you look around the living space.

Unlike your own home, the walls of Minho’s house were bare of any intricacies. Simple wood, with no grand photos of family members hanging - though, knowing Minho, you’d be surprised if he even had any. Across the fireplace mantel were jars of what seemed to be dried up herbs, sticks of what you recognised as cinnamon, and- were those egg shells? A strange assortment of things, you mused.

“Your highness,” Chan whispers. He leans in towards you, sofa shifting under him, and raises a hand to cover his mouth. “Perhaps your trust- Apologies. Perhaps we are unwelcomed here. It may be best we leave as soon as possible, if this boy refuses to help us.”

“He’s the same age as us, Chan.” Well, you think he is, anyways. “Please - just give it another minute.”

Despite your hopes, Chan seems to be right. The only thing dissuading you from the belief that Minho wanted nothing to do with your recent events was the fact that he hadn’t blatantly turned you away.

The sound of water eases and shuts off. Minho busies his hands - with what, you couldn’t see.

“Was there trouble? At the palace?”

You’re surprised by his question - so he was willing to help? Or, at the very least, hear you out?

“Yes, how did-”

“What makes you say that?” Chan says, and a jolt ran through you. Never had Chan spoken over you so forcefully before. He doesn’t meet your eyes and instead frowns at the back of the mage’s head.

Minho doesn’t answer immediately. He continues whatever other task he had started, back to you. After a few seconds, he turns and grabs for a tea towel. He leans back against the sink, wiping his hands.

“Well, is it not the most obvious thing to have happened?” With a forced smile at Chan, Minho discards the towel behind him. “Why else would you and the princess be at my door, penniless and on foot, at this hour? If not for trouble at the palace, surely you would have opted for a horse or two, and if you knew I ran a business, surely you would come with some form of payment.”

The points, while well made, seemed to do little to ease whatever suspicion had overcome Chan - it didn’t take much to guess what those suspicions were concerning, and you turn to Chan with a resigned look.

“It took you some time to formulate such an easily deducible answer,” Chan muses aloud.

“Well, then why ask such an obvious question?” Minho retorts and all of a sudden the temperature in the room seems to drop. The air seems to fizz, and a stroke of fear enters your body as he returns Chan’s glare with his own pointed look.

He pushes off of the sink and walks forward.

He doesn’t carry the same angry threat that you’d seen come from Chan when his men were out of line. No glowering, no fists at his side, no long strides to advance upon his opponent. He seems to simply walk across the room instead, his head held high and jaw clenched ever so subtly, never breaking eye contact with Chan. He stops half-way - he doesn’t need to make the full distance. Chan abruptly stands up and makes his own advance.

“Chan, honestly-”

“I don’t quite appreciate the way you’re regarding me, knight.” Each of Minho’s words seems to be accentuated by the flicker of the fireplace flame. They’re spoken clearly, carefully - not quite a whisper, but then again, it didn’t take much for him to be heard in the silence. “The implications you’re making, while subtle, are not left unknown to me, human.”

The two of them, knight and mage, are in the middle of Minho’s living space, the tension so high that you didn’t know who to fear for.

“I’ll have you know something, mage.” Chan snarls. “I don’t trust you. Not one bit; not at all.” He’s breathing down Minho’s chest, a snarl you’d never seen before turning the face of someone you’d grown up with into someone almost unrecognisable. “I’m only here because her highness believes strongly that you will help us.” He jabs a finger into Minho’s chest, though the latter only raises a brow. “However, it is my job to keep her safe and even if I respect her opinion of others, it does not mean that her and I are of the same mind.”

He’s breathing heavily by the end of it, the tips of his ears red. You had risen from your seat at some point, the waves of unease in your stomach turning turbulent. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two of them.

“And I’ll remind you that it is my house you are standing in and it is my assistance that you are seeking.”

Minho is no where near taller than Chan. The two stand face to face, and yet it was like the mage was looking down at Chan. The scary calm that had taken over him, the careful control of his emotions and his magic - you could feel it in the air, feel the static you had felt earlier, only this was cold. Cold, chilling static, like that of winter waters or thick snowfall.

He doesn’t break eye-contact with Chan. He blinks, he takes steady breaths, he keeps his chin raised, but he doesn’t falter.

After what feels like an age, Chan turns and walks past Minho. You take a step after him, fearful that he was about to leave out the front door, but he simply places himself on one of the vacated stools. He was out of Minho’s point of view, and though the latter was still in his, Chan crossed his arms and closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

It seemed impossible for you to exhale fully, much less take a deep breath. You had expected some resistance from Chan when he inevitably found out that Minho was a mage but whatever had happened in the last few minutes was beyond anything you could have imagined.

“Minho, I-” You turn hastily away from Chan and to Minho, who had not moved. He looks at you now with troubled eyes. Gulping, you take in the deepest breath you can manage and exhale through pursed lips. You try again. “Could we perhaps take this elsewhere?”

A tired, resigned smile makes its way to Minho’s face. “Perhaps that would be best.”

It turns out, you discover, that one of the two mysterious doors led out to a garden.

The door shuts quietly behind you as you breathe in the night air. Minho’s garden, while no larger than his living space, seemed to house a variety of plants. Flowers of differing colours, shapes and sizes filled the majority of the space, alongside some recognisable vegetables - tomatoes and lettuce, though few, seemed fresh and ready to harvest. All the plants, you notice, seem to shine in the night. Taking a step closer, you almost let out an exclamation as one, two, three glowing creatures dart in and between the flowers.

“They maintain the garden for me,” Minho says, as if it explained everything. You turn to him, having forgotten for a moment that he was with you. “A marvelous help, they are, especially when I’m away on business.”

He picks up a basket, hanging it off his arm and walks up to a purple flower. You watch as Minho inspects it before pulling a pair of scissors from the basket and cutting the flower off its stem.

“Minho, I wanted to apologise for-”

“There is no need. I don’t seek an apology from you - nor the knight, I might add, before you berate him for his behaviour.” His basket was quickly filling with flowers, though you note there’s no more than two of each kind. “It is not uncommon for me to hear such things, for it is not easy to place your faith in things you do not understand. Though, I confess, such things are less common now. Do you mind?”

He hands you the basket - now filled with so many things that you wouldn’t know where to start if he were to ask you to remove a flower from the lot - and picks up another. This one he begins to fill with produce.

“But he is still my knight, and I ask for your assistance not just for myself but for him as well. Tonight-” You break off, and Minho spares you a glance over the shoulder before he returns to his carrots. “It is perhaps unfair of me to ask you for your help, after all these years,” you finish, an increasing hopelessness somehow making sense of itself in your mind.

A decade, perhaps, it had been since you last saw him. You had every possible means to seek him out after parting, had an abundance of ways you could have assisted him - for you knew, even if he had rejected help the first time, that to do something was better than nothing, and yet you had kept quiet about your encounter. For his own safety, one may have reasoned, but in hindsight it seemed a child’s selfishness was what kept him a secret. Something for you to know, and no one else. Not the maids who tended to you every day, or the queen who asked you what you had done that afternoon, or Chan who was by your side whenever possible.

Minho had returned to stand before you, the second basket full of tomatoes, lettuce, and a range of root vegetables. The hem of his pants were speckled with dirt, and a smudge of it ran over his cheek.

“You saved my life, y/n. I think you underestimate the consequences of our meeting far too much.”

It was like the child you had met so many years ago was back before you, a vulnerability in his eyes that you couldn’t quite understand. You, who had always been sheltered, had always had your safety assured, prioritised, and the child who had been covered in dirt and bruises, twigs sticking out of his hair and so tangled up that you’d had to sit him down and carefully undo all the knots.

The way Minho looked at you now almost scared you - if your request had been not for help, but for his life, you were sure he would have said yes.

Unable to hold the truth in his gaze any longer, you busy yourself with readjusting the basket in your hand, carefully easing the petals away from the rim as to not crush them.

“The last thing I wish to do is to hold that over you, Minho,” you say softly. “It was wrong of me to come to you for help when I fear that asking it of others would endanger their safety. You too are part of this kingdom, and I cannot simply treat you different because of the past.”

“Can’t you?” He sounds wistful, you think, the words almost musing, so soft and quiet that you weren’t sure if they were meant for only your ears, or for no one’s at all.

Then, as if there had been no sentimentality at all, Minho flourishes his hand and the basket of flowers levitates out of your grasp. “I’ll help you - but first, it would seem a good night’s sleep would do you well.”

The door swing opens as Minho nears it, and he gestures for you to enter the house first. The flowers follow you in, Minho bringing up the rear.

Chan, who’d been pacing by the fire, looks up abruptly when he hears you come in. Relief seems to wash over his features, and you give him a strained smile.

“Minho said he’d help us.” You lay a hand on Chan’s arm, and the tension seems to leave his body at the confirmation of your physical presence. “We can rest here for the night, and figure everything out tomorrow.”

“On that note - here, to help you sleep.” A small opaque bottle floats its way to you. “Just light a match, drop in there and leave it in the room. I’m sure the night’s events will leave your mind running when given the chance.”

You take the jar in your hands, feeling its weight as the magic disappears. Peering inside seemed pointless - the opening was just small enough for your finger to fit in; barely enough light could enter the jar for you to see its contents.

“And a salve, for any minor wounds you may have.”

This time, a red jar lands by the sink. It’s even smaller than the bottle, barely the size of your palm. Though Minho doesn’t look at him, you know that he had taken note of the wound at Chan’s side.

“You can take my bed, y/n. The knight can sleep on the floor, or something. I don’t really care.”

“You little-”

Minho ignores Chan, moving to grab a satchel from the table. Your eyes follow him, the way he truly seems to disregard Chan’s presence as he walks past him and towards the front door.

“And you? Where will you sleep, then? I insist you keep your bed-”

“Oh, I won’t be sleeping tonight.” Hand on the doorknob, he turns to you with a glint in his eye. “The moon is full. It’d be a waste to do something as mundane as sleep tonight. I’ll be close by, and there are protective charms on the house. Worry not.”

The door shuts behind him before you or Chan can even protest.

—

Chan’s wound had stopped bleeding. Though he had played it off as a simple graze, you were relieved to see it wasn’t too much of an understatement. The initial redness that surrounded the wound had frozen your mind with fear, but after taking a wet cloth to it, you discovered that it was mostly dried blood that had spread.

The salve Minho had given you smelt resinous, like wood that had been left out in the rain. Your face scrunches up as you scoop a small amount up with your fingers. Setting the jar down next to the chair Chan was sat on, you steady yourself with a hand on his knee and run the salve over his wound. He flinches at the sensation, muscles tensing under your fingers, but keeps his shirt held up.

“You don’t think he’s tricked you into poisoning me, do you?”

You spare a glare at Chan.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say, though you know he was just trying to ease the tension.

Though Minho hadn’t returned since he’d left, you could still feel Chan’s discomfort with the situation. He too seemed to sense that you wee troubled - you had caught him shooting you anxious glances as you’d prepared to treat his wound.

“You know, he told me not to berate you.” Having finished applying the salve, you push yourself up from the floor and dust your skirts off. Chan avoids your eye, fixating instead on straightening his shirt and picking at the torn fabric under the flickering light of the fireplace. “Just because he says he doesn’t seek an apology, doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t get one.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, and he looks up you through furrowed brows. “Are you ordering me to apologise to him?”

Your jaw drops at his words, helpless against the hurt that they bring you. For him to bring status into this, to make it seem like he would rather be anywhere but here - his words from earlier echo in your brain: I’m only here because her highness believes strongly that you will help us.

“Chan, that’s not at all what I-”

“I don’t feel like I’ve anything to apologise for,” he says, voice edged with annoyance. “I don’t trust him. I have spoken my truth - but I won’t interrogate you for yours.” His voice is gentler, resigned. “Though, I admit the mage is right. You should rest, your highness. It has been an eventful night, and you will need your energy for tomorrow.”

It felt wrong, to leave and rest without resolving the tension that had formed between you and Chan. A part of you didn’t understand why he had been so aggressive towards Minho, why he was so against the idea of his help… and yet you knew it was wrong of you to expect Chan to understand your thoughts and feelings when you had given him nothing to help form an understanding of your relationship with Minho. To Chan, you realised, Minho was simply an unknown stranger who possessed the abilities to have aided the night’s chaos.

But it felt wrong to reveal your and Minho’s shared history with Chan. Afterall, it wasn’t only your story to tell.

So you take a deep breath, try to catch Chan’s eye one more time, before murmuring a small goodnight.

Minho’s bedroom, located behind the second of the mysterious doors, was dimly lit by a a candle sitting on the corner of his desk. There was a single, unmade bed next to it, and a set of drawers at the other end of the room. Another door (which you presumed led to the bathroom, for you hadn’t seen one in your time here, and what home had no bathroom?) stood in the corner, next to the drawers. There was a window, the curtains secured to one side.

It was a small bedroom, void of anything unnecessary.

Placing the bottle Minho had given you on the table, you search for a match. His desk was covered in books and papers, and it’s not until you brave a small box on his desk that you find the matches. You do as he had instructed - striking one, you watch as the corner you stood in lit orange before dropping it into the bottle.

You had been skeptical that dropping a match into such a small space would work - surely, the fire would be extinguished, right? - but you’re mildly surprised when a soft, sweet scent arises. It reminded you of home, of late nights spend in the library reading stories of knights and princesses, witches and curses. A familiar drowsiness overcomes you.

It doesn’t take long for you to find yourself sliding under Minho’s covers. Your mind spares a moment for you to feel embarrassed at the act of sleeping in not only someone else’s bed, but in a man’s bed, before it lets the exhaustion take over.

This time, you don’t fight the heaviness of your body like you had so many hours ago.

This time, you let it consume you.

---

a/n: hi hi! thank you for reading. comments, throughts, feedback, questions - all of these (and more) are appreciated! if you want to be added to the taglist (or alternatively, removed) please let me know !!

[blossom-hwa]

summertime drabble fest (CLOSED)

hello everyone :) I am fortunately (for my wallet) and unfortunately (for my hobbies) working full time this summer and so I wasn’t sure if I’d have time to write the usual full length fics I typically work on during the summer, but I thought a drabble game would be nice to get my head away from my work every so often while letting me write :) so here is my summer drabble fest!

GROUND RULES.

read ALL details under the cut and the FAQ before requesting here :)

I will write for Stray Kids, Ateez, TXT, and Seventeen.

requests will be open until August 12, 2023.

unfortunately, I cannot guarantee how fast I will write your request; it could take a few days, a week, or even a month so I do ask for your patience with me and my schedule!

CURRENT REQUESTS.

a cinderella story continuation + hyunjin (@nlnkm)

title romeo and juliet + san (@sankatchu)

idiots to lovers + san (anon)

summer job au + beomgyu (chip)

biker au + jongho (chip)

modern mage au + felix (anon)

devil by the window + huening kai (oatmeal raisin)

roommate au + hongjoong (chip)

apocalypse au + sungyoon or theater au + changbin (anon) - it will depend on who I have a better idea for

Without further ado...

MASTERLISTS.

Stray Kids Masterlist

Ateez Masterlist

TXT Masterlist

Seventeen Masterlist

last updated: 1/15/24 (will be updated as I finish requests!)

REQUEST GUIDELINES.

Send me an idol (Stray Kids, Ateez, TXT, or Seventeen ONLY) + a short prompt and I’ll write a brief drabble for you! I’ve listed some prompt suggestions below, but feel free to get creative :)

a story title (ex: younghoon + dreams of pearl)

an au (ex: soobin + regency era au)

a color (ex: seonghwa + purple)

a short continuation of a fic I’ve written (ex: jisung + continuation of Bloom) *

a universe I’ve talked about or have already written (ex: san + whispers of nature universe) **

* Please keep in mind that if I believe a fic is finished and that I don’t think there’s anything I can write to continue it, I will not do your request. Some stories, I believe, are best completed where I ended them.

** Any universe I’ve talked about is fair game, even if I haven’t explicitly posted any writing from it yet! 

*** If you’re requesting an idol who has the same name as someone in another group (ex: skz seungmin and golcha seungmin) please specify the group or I won’t know who to write for!

I WILL NOT WRITE:

smut

anything noncon

jealousy plots

idol!aus

aus that I know nothing about (sorry!)

Harry Potter aus

DISCLAIMER: I reserve the right to decide whether or not I write your request, regardless of whether or not it falls under the list of things I will not write. Typically I try to write all requests I receive; however, keep in mind that this may not always be the case.

Thanks to everyone who decides to participate in this game and who's supported me through my years on Tumblr - I appreciate you all, and I hope you enjoy your requests :)

[prettywordsyouleft]

The King’s Sorcerer

Pairing: Lee Minho (Lee Know) x female reader

Genre: fluff / fantasy / magic

Warnings: none

Word count: 3392

A/N: Welcome to the first week of Frightful October. The theme is Spellbound, and when I thought of this sorcerer x shifter idea, I knew I had to write it with Minho. 

This story can be read alone, but it is interconnected with all the Frightful October stories linked below. 

The King’s Sorcerer | The Huntsman | Gatekeeper | The Secret Library | Stories Told on Hallow’s Eve

Deep in the back of a rather peculiar residence, a sorcerer could be heard sighing. It had been going on for so long now that one could assume that he had forgotten how to breathe properly; his unwavering focus and consistent scowling only added to the incessant huffing. If Minho the Mage lived with anyone else, perhaps he would have taken some liberties to show himself with expected composure.

After all, he was the greatest sorcerer in all of Casaria. One had a reputation to uphold, and being found hunched over his beloved spell book and a stack of scribbled formulas would definitely lower the everyday belief that he could merely bend the world to his will.

No, there was a great deal of work behind what he otherwise made look effortless.

And his latest task was proving quite the headache. He hadn’t moved from this stool in caldron’s knows long, and the accumulating pile of scrunched papers had started to form quite the indication that he and his workspace had all but become one. The violet feathered quill he held was no doubt fused to his fingers by now too, ink staining his skin after one too many flurries of notetaking and not waiting nearly long enough for the ink to dry.

“Drat!” he suddenly proclaimed, and the trinkets of his study grew wary from the sudden outburst. A series of words followed the first, more exasperated than the last until Minho was truly heaving. Tossing down the quill finally, he stretched his fingers, cracking his knuckles in the process.

This translocation spell still wasn’t coming together as smoothly as he hoped.

It wasn’t his first of these types of spells; Minho had created many in the past. As an almighty mage, such spells should be beneath him. Back when he was young and new to the world of magickal wizardry, he had cast so many of the blasted things that he had no doubt translocated every person in this kingdom at one point. Now, his skills were utilised by wealthier clients, and with his success, he had recently fulfilled the role of The King’s Sorcerer.

As esteemed a role as any, Minho had been excited to step into the robes of his past tutor to serve the young King Hyunjin. So far, the king hadn’t tasked him with anything out of the ordinary. A few illusionary spells and a restrengthening of the castle boundaries after yet another damsel had found herself incapable of withstanding her ruler’s handsome face and broke in to proclaim her endless love for him.

There was also the monthly enhancer cast to keep such a face looking as perfectly amiable as it did from dawn to dusk. Not that Minho would ever be caught admitting so. It was one of the lesser joys of his role of being the main sorcerer to such a powerful man.

“All good and well to cast alluring qualities to him when his actual persona is that of a snake!” Minho dramatically told the room, not aware of the spider that stopped her descent nearby. Instead, he groaned and finally took in his rumpled disposition and messy quarters. With a wave of his hand, he was able to clear the mess away – one upside to having magick run deeply within his veins. But no matter how his power pressed out the wrinkles in his shirt or strengthen the scent of his cologne, the glamour couldn’t remove the feeling of a day’s – or in this case a week’s – filth.

“A bath is needed,” he muttered, nodding once. “I’ll use a clarity potion. That’ll clear the cobwebs forming in my mind.”

Straightening his spine, he groaned and then proceeded to shuffle towards the upstairs bathroom.

Once clean and with a plate of food he conjured up from one of the kitchen’s extensive cooking spells, Minho returned to his study. He was barely over the threshold when he noticed the energy of another. Darting his focus about, he searched for a further sign of his intruder. No man or woman stood within the room, but that didn’t signal he was alone. Eying a stack of new trinkets with suspicion, he watched as they cowered and breathed out in relief when he finally moved on. Setting the plate down next to his spell book, he folded his arms across his chest and canted his head to the side.

He had found his intruder.

“Surely you didn’t enter my home like this, Y/N.” Resisting the urge to lift his hand above the spider now sitting over a fresh stack of parchment to frighten you, Minho shook his head with another groan. “Honestly! I have a front door, you know.”

“Yes, and I used it,” a silken voice pulsated in his mind, caressing gently.

“To crawl inside of? That door won’t allow even the smallest of bugs in. You’re not a tiny spider, you know,” he retorted and pursed his lips almost into a sneer. “Used the front door, indeed!”

The spider scuttled to the other edge of the desk before disappearing, and he blinked, finding you now perched on it in your mortal form. Minho gave you a pointed look to get down, but you ignored it. Much as you always did. “I knocked upon the door. Thrice, in fact.”

“If the master of the house doesn’t wish to answer his door, perhaps you should take that as a sign that he is otherwise occupied.”

You grinned and gave a small shrug. “There’s plenty of holes in this house of yours where a spider can squeeze in.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” he answered curtly and sat back down on his stool. He’d only ever turned himself into something other than a human a handful of times, and not once had he considered donning eight legs of sin. Considering how little you wore; he assumed it would be laborious to morph into such a beast in his wizardry robes. Taking his attention away from the gauze-like lavender fabric that did little to hide your curves, he steepled his fingers together and lowered his head so he could rest his forehead upon them and look back at his book.

He startled immediately. “How dare you touch my book!”

“To be fair, all I did was land upon it,” you said defensively, jutting out your bottom lip for effect. “It’s not my fault that your little book is particular about who touches it.”

Grumbling incoherently as he summoned the page he had been working from to appear once more, Minho decided he would ignore you as best as he could. Of course, you would have a reason to come bother him. You always did.

He had chosen these woods long ago as a peaceful retreat outside of Casaria’s capital to build his home. A misshapen manor at best, but what it lacked on the outside in architectural grandeur, he had managed to magick all he needed on the inside. It was a bit backward thinking, building such a home from the inside out, yet it deterred many, if not all passer-bys from attempting to bother him. Anyone who needed his sorcery could contact him during his working hours at his office in town.

Of course, he wasn’t foolish to believe the forest was merely his home. Many lowerfae and magickal beings had also found solitude here. Including you. He wasn’t quite sure when you had arrived in the woods itself, just how he came to meet you. Minho’s eyes travelled to the floor of his study that was permanently charred from the overwhelming level of magick you had possessed that night. He supposed that if you didn’t blow another hole in his roof, entering as an Arachnida wasn’t all that bad.

“A translocation spell is needed by the King?” you asked, swinging your legs about in a repetitive and dizzying rhythm. Minho was grateful you had only the two instead of eight now, all things considering.

He grunted in response, attempting to figure out how to create something as large as required of him.

“What for?”

“Are you a sorceress, Y/N?”

You laughed heartily, placing a hand over your chest. “Heavens, no.”

“Then you need not know what it is for.”

“The creatures worry,” you admitted a moment later, peering curiously in his direction as he picked up the quill once more. “There’s whispers of the King wishing to connect the Faelands with our own.”

He didn’t answer, though Minho was surprised by how correct the rumours were. Who had been speaking of such hushed secrets? Only he and the King were ever present when discussing this task of his. Hyunjin was a pragmatic leader. He wouldn’t openly share his plans as easily as he did his delicious, swoon-worthy smiles.

“There would be trouble for us all if we moved the leylines, Minho.”

“Trouble comes with everything. You are, in fact, a grand example of that. My life hasn’t been quiet or trouble-free once since you appeared.”

Something of a wicked type of smile spread out your face, and Minho grew annoyed with how well he admired it out of the corner of his eye. You, unlike Hyunjin, needed no enhancement. “I’m flattered you consider such a lowly shifter as such a stain upon your life.”

He created a visual stain of blotted ink upon the parchment at your statement. Blinking, he recomposed himself and started to scribble down a new formula as it formed. Thankfully, you allowed him to focus as he did so, and he almost forgot your presence.

That was why he jolted so alarmingly when you squealed with glee out of nowhere. “Where did you find this?!”

You had since climbed down from your perch as desk décor and were now over by the box of newly purchased trinkets. You held one in your hands, and his breath hitched, cursing silently at himself for not hiding it before you could find it. You would jump to conclusions about his interest in you, and well, at this point in his task, he needed no further distractions.

Within another blink, your form shifted into what he was most familiar with. Your feline features felt at home upon this face, with large, furry ears much like the cats spoken of in the desert continent. He had asked if you had come from there once when he’d drank too much liquor and was most inebriated. The hazy memory flooded his senses, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, remembering the same hand reaching out to pet you fondly on the head like an actual cat. However, unlike the many tabbies and tomcats of Casaria, your coat was dark as midnight, surrounded by the most impressive hues of purple feathered wings he’d ever seen.

“It fits perfectly at the base of my wings!” You mentally projected your delight to him, and Minho sighed for what was no doubt the thousandth time this week.

“I never said it was for you.”

“What would you need of a shifter’s pouch for?” you wondered as you gracefully prowled over to the mirror in the far corner of the room. He watched as you posed this way and that, admiring the bag that had attached to your form with shifter’s magick he still didn’t quite understand. It was a perfect fit, and the detailed teal embroidery complimented you well. Your tail swung back and forth with pleasure.

“It was at the markets,” he relented, though answered with more nonchalance than the purchased gift felt to him. “I figured there was no use to it sitting there where you couldn’t purchase it.”

“I can enter the mortal town, sorcerer.”

“As a human? With coin to buy it with?” he countered, and you growled in warning, blinking back into your female form. Your eyes glistened with unspoken distaste, yet your hand held the pouch reverently instead of balling around it like the other had. Minho swallowed a lump down in his throat. “You’re welcome.”

“I never said thank you.”

“I don’t expect it, Y/N. Much as I never expect—”

You moved over the room with a swiftness he envied, and he stilled when your arms wrapped around his neck. Pressed against your warm body, Minho willed himself to remain breathing.

It would do nothing for your ego, or his, if he swooned like the damsels did over Hyunjin.

“I appreciate the gift. It is the most beautiful thing I now possess.”

“Er. Right,” he eventually coughed out, and your arms winded away from him, leaving him cold and aching in the departure. “I must get on with this spell, Y/N. The king expects it in four days’ time.”

“Is he really going to do it?” you whispered, and Minho resigned himself to answer with a nod. “Minho, that is madness! The Fae do not wish to be bothered by mortals anymore. Not to mention the Elven Queen—”

Minho spoke aloud the secret his King had told him when he ordered this task. “Hyunjin’s mother is Fae, though, perhaps some watered-down version. He got his beauty from her but no magickal ability. He hopes that translocating the permanent boundary between Casaria and Faerie will…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I must do it.”

“Why?” you implored and then rolled your eyes, seeming to come to an answer. “If your reputation is worth the suffering of so many, then you are more arrogant than I thought!”

“Casaria doesn’t allow marriage to magickal beings,” he murmured, and if you were anyone else, he knew you wouldn’t have heard him. But given your most commonly shifted form was that of a cat with such large ears, well, he knew your hearing to be superior.

“Marriage of…” You frowned, and his cheeks pinkened despite himself. “Who do you wish to marry that is not mortal?”

Minho stared at you, and you continued to flit about, listing off names of witches and other spellcasters you had mutually crossed paths with. He remained focused on you until you stopped, sucking in a deep breath when you finally caught his attention. “Oh. Oh.”

“Then you would legally have a home too,” he offered quietly, knowing the one thing you wished for most was something to call your own. A fancy pouch may be good and all, but to know you had a place that you didn’t have to break into as a spider, well, it was worth the current headache he had with this translocation spell.

“You would go to such efforts for me?” you asked, and he nodded in response. You laughed, somewhat breathlessly. “The almighty sorcerer of Casaria wants me as his bride.”

“Well, if you have any other suitors—”

“We don’t need to be married in order for us to live together, Minho.”

“I’m rather traditional in that aspect, and you know it,” he truthfully replied, watching as you slunk towards him with hips swinging from side to side as they did in your wildcat form. He grew mesmerised by the swing until a jolt of magick sparked out of his fingertips, grounding him and his arousal.

You chuckled and planted yourself in his lap, slinging arms around his shoulders. “Let’s find another way. Perhaps a portal in Casaria will appease your King.”

“I offered that. I’ve made plenty of those in the past to other magickal realms. Surprisingly, they’re much easier than a translocation spell.”

“And he said no?”

Minho nodded. “He wishes for Faerie and Casaria to form an alliance.”

“Then he should send in an ambassador to the Enchanted Forest to seek one out. Not force it upon them.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“Tell me what you expect of me if I become your bride?”

“Well, nothing really.”

“Nothing?!” You sat upright. “The offer is to simply give me a home?”

“No, that’s not right either.” His thoughts had grown muddled. The tiring spellwork had mixed with your scent, your feel, and everything felt a little too confusing for him to navigate. He cleared his throat, holding onto his little remaining dignity. “I am a sorcerer. The greatest of these lands.”

“Hmmm. I don’t need your title, though.”

“You like my company. Surely, living with me wouldn’t be so bad.”

You inhaled deeply and lifted a thoughtful finger to your plush bottom lip. He was afraid if you spoke to him now, it wouldn’t make much sense.

Confound my weaknesses! Minho thought miserably to himself. He had never been distracted by anyone before. You, however, were quite the opponent to his sensibilities.

“Living with you wouldn’t be wonderful either. Your arrogance and need for space are prevalent. You have spells for everything, and there’s no need for cleaning when you simply can wave a flick of your hand, and it is done. What would I do with my time?”

“Well, what do you do with it currently? There is no need for that to change.”

“I mostly annoy you.”

Minho laughed. “Once again, I don’t see that changing.”

“I could bother you in other ways,” you tempted, hands palming his chest instantly. Minho bit down on his bottom lip until he cried out with annoyance. “Besides, we don’t need marriage to do that.”

He wasn’t a saint, and yet, he’d tried to keep you and him away from being horizontal together for as long as possible. You, however, the wicked creature that you were, seemed to possess other ideas.

“Marrying you is already proving to be quite the headache,” he stated, and you nuzzled his neck.

“You haven’t even asked me yet. Nor have I had any opportunity to speak my answer.”

He glared at you exasperatedly. “I’m certain with the way your body is reacting against mine right now—”

He was cut off by the press of your finger to his mouth. “I don’t wish for you to finish this spell. Legality or not, I don’t care to be wedded like a mortal. I’m not one, and you’re hardly a human in any case.”

He went to refute your statement, but given the magick that rolled through his body, he certainly couldn’t pass as any Jack or Joe.

“I accept to bond my magick with you, though.”

“Is that so.”

“Mhm.”

“And how would that bond withstand the testing period ahead of us?” Minho knew that if Hyunjin didn’t get his spell, he would investigate alternative options to connect Faerie and Casaria. Perhaps his reputation could take a hit. He knew of no other in this kingdom who could even work a translocation spell or create portals. Not even his closest adversary Seungmin the Sage could match his level of sorcery in both areas. He was rather good at telepathy, however.

“Perhaps if the King comes to no longer wish for your services, we could translocate ourselves?”

“I’ll have you know this house of mine isn’t up for such a task.”

“No,” you said, leaning in to kiss him. When you shifted back to continue talking, he had half a mind to follow along with you and push his mouth back up against yours. “But I do believe when I first met you that you proclaimed that if I destroyed your house, you could very easily rebuild it again.”

“Where would we go?”

“Anywhere is fine, so long as it’s with you.”

“And that the house continues to have holes big enough for spiders to fit through?” he conditioned, and you grinned, cupping his face in one of your hands.

“Oh, but I’m sure that if and when the time comes that I can call you more than just my sorcerer, I’ll also be able to say that the home we build together won’t keep me locked out of it. Not if our magicks are bonded.”

“I’m not so sure, my love. My magick has a way of trying to keep trouble at bay.”

You kissed him once more, and this time you succeeded in scrambling all his senses. Sparks shot from his fingertips, and he vaguely thought of whether there was a spell he could create to stop putting on such a light show whenever you touched him like this. You looked at him in smug satisfaction when you shifted back in his embrace once more. “I’m willing to keep testing your limits.”

_________________

Next: The Huntsman

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[sunnytaes]

The Ballad of the Phoenix

❅ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Lee Minho x Lee Felix

❅ Genre/themes: angst with a happy ending (eventually), eventual fluff, adventure, fantasy au, royal au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, Felix is Steve (but not really), arranged marriage (but not really), prince!Hyunjin, prince!Minho, mage!Felix

❅ Warning(s): alcohol mentions, brief description of an animal pelt, Felix (unfortunately) does not appear in this chapter

❅ Chapter word count: 6.7k

❅ Chapter summary: Prince Hyunjin of Mahonia and Prince Minho of Cerasus have been distant for years after once having been close as children. Their parents want them to marry to unify their kingdoms, but both princes adamantly refuse. They agree to give reconnecting a chance, however, though it proves to be difficult when neither is willing to bend.

❅ Note(s): This fic is for the Clownracha fic exchange and it is dedicated to my lovely Lennie, @decaffedthoughts! Lennie, I hope you enjoy it. I made a playlist for the series, which you can find here. Pls listen to it in order :)

Chapter 1: Forget-Me-Not

The afternoon sun seeped in through the tall windows of the castle, squares of light broken up by the shadows of the window panes travelling across the large canvas set up next to the window. Delicate, practised hands were adding small, vaguely flower-shaped dots of orange to the rhododendron bush on the canvas. In front of the canvas sat His Royal Highness, Prince Hwang Hyunjin of Mahonia, the Kingdom of Winter. 

The young prince was sitting in a decidedly un-princelike manner, hunched over his canvas with his paintbrush clutched tightly in his hand, but the determined expression on his face was certainly that of a king’s. His long hair had been tied crudely out of his face with a stray piece of twine, and his princely outer robes had been tossed haphazardly on the large bed, leaving him in only a white undershirt, the paint-splattered sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his everyday pants, the piece of linen he used to protect the fine material from paint long since abandoned on the floor. 

Hyunjin’s painting was interrupted by a firm knock to his door, two raps in quick succession, followed by a third a moment later. Hyunjin only knew one person who knocked in such a unique manner and a smile spread across his face. 

“Come in, Seungmin,” the prince called out, rinsing his brush in the wooden bowl next to his easel before placing it on the cloth next to the bowl to dry. 

Hyunjin’s personal attendant and the closest thing he’s had to a friend all his life poked his head into the prince’s chamber, his fluffy brown hair flopping slightly to the side from the angle, his round golden wire-rimmed glasses also falling slightly askew. Hyunjin could only see his collar and a bit of his left shoulder, but he knew Seungmin was wearing the same garb all of the palace staff wore, a royal blue tunic belted at the waist with a gold braided cord, black trousers, and polished black loafers. Each tunic bore the kingdom’s crest — the Hellebore Mountains with the moon rising behind the peak, surrounded by a wreath of plum blossoms — embroidered on the left side, just above the heart, and Seungmin’s featured a small gold pin of the same crest on the mock neckline of his tunic, indicating that he was a member of the royal family’s personal staff. 

Hyunjin did not need to see the rest of his friend’s uniform in that moment to know that not an inch was out of place, with starch-pressed creases in the trousers and shoes so well-polished one could see their reflection in them. Seungmin was often better dressed than Hyunjin, the latter often having the odd paint stain somewhere on his clothing or hands, despite the amount of care he took to prevent that from happening. 

“Your parents are requesting your presence,” Seungmin said, casting a glance at Hyunjin’s canvas. He hummed appreciatively at the painting, meeting Hyunjin’s eyes as he spoke. “It seemed serious, so you might want to make yourself look… a bit more presentable. But quickly, it also seemed urgent.” 

Hyunjin let out a sigh, picking up a rag to wipe the stray flecks of paint off of his hands. Some of the fresher flecks came off easily, but some only smudged deeper into his skin, and others had long since dried. 

Seungmin took his leave, off to do whatever it was he did when he wasn’t taking care of Hyunjin. Hyunjin honestly didn’t know what he got up to in his spare time, but he did not care so long as Seungmin was there when he needed him, which he always was. Technically, the prince’s attendant or his personal maids were supposed to help him dress, but Seungmin had given up on that very shortly after he took on the role, and Hyunjin had also dismissed his maids from assisting him, as it made him feel like a child being doted on, which he hated. 

The rest of the kingdom thought him to be a spoiled, arrogant prince, but Hyunjin and those closest to him, albeit not that many people, knew that was far from the case. The prince did not care what others thought of him, though. He knew that his subjects called him the Ice Prince because of his cold exterior, but he did not mind. He was warm to those who mattered and polite but succinct with those he was unfamiliar with, and if that made him come across as cold, then so be it. 

Hyunjin dressed himself quickly, praying his parents wouldn’t notice the splash of yellow paint that had made it onto the knee of his trousers, and started to make his way to the east wing of Icehaven Palace, where his parents resided. Hyunjin spent most of his time in the south wing, in a former guest room that he had claimed for his own because of the beautiful view of the garden below his window, and the Hellebore Mountains on the horizon, marking the edge of his kingdom. Though it was customary for a prince to stay in the east wing with the rest of the royal family, Hyunjin found himself forgoing custom more often than not, and even though he occasionally returned to his childhood bedroom in the east wing to watch the sunrise, he had called the room in the south wing home for as long as he could remember. 

Arriving at the east wing, Hyunjin made his way to his parents’ shared room, as that was usually where they were when they summoned him together. He nodded at their personal guard, Mingyu, as the taller man stepped aside to let him in. 

Entering his parents’ chambers, Hyunjin was met with the familiar scent of mulled spices and old wood that he came to associate with the space. His mother was sitting in her favourite chaise lounge by the window, the midnight silk of her dress blending into the indigo velvet of the chair. A chalice was perched delicately in her hand, likely containing her favourite plum wine, a Mahonian signature. Hyunjin’s father stood by her side, staring pensively out the window and looking in Hyunjin’s direction when he entered the room. Like Hyunjin, his father had long hair, but his swept past his shoulders where Hyunjin’s only reached his jaw. The king often wore his hair in a complicated braided knot atop his head, accenting his crown perfectly, but now his hair was loose, flowing past his shoulders as the gold crown rested on the vanity next to the queen’s matching one. 

Hyunjin was unaccustomed to seeing his parents so casually, but he did his best to appear unfazed by the sight. He greeted his parents with the low bow customary for greeting Mahonian royals, with one fist clasped over the heart to signify fealty to the crown. When he straightened his posture, his parents were smiling warily at him, as if they were nervous too. 

“Hyunjin, please sit,” his mother said, gesturing towards one of the armchairs facing the chaise lounge. 

Swallowing his nerves, Hyunjin sat in the one closest to the fire. 

“There’s something we would like to discuss with you,” the king said, his focus solely on Hyunjin now. 

“I only snuck out to get paints once, Seungmin had no idea!” Hyunjin blurted, wringing his hands in his lap. 

His father quirked a bemused eyebrow at him, while his mother appeared to be hiding her smile between her chalice. 

“That is not what we were planning on discussing, but we can address that later.” 

“We have always appreciated your independence, Hyunjin, and we would never force you to do something you didn’t want to do, but there is something we would like you to consider,” his mother said, smiling at him warmly. 

Though both of his parents were looking at him with uncharacteristically fond expressions, Hyunjin could not help but feel the anxiety rising in his chest. 

“What is this about?” he asked. 

“We’ve been talking with the King and Queen of Cerasus, and we were thinking it would be greatly beneficial to both kingdoms if you were to get married to their crown prince, Prince Minho,” the queen said apprehensively, as if she knew what Hyunjin’s reaction would be. 

Predictably, Hyunjin shot out of his chair immediately, causing it to tumble backwards and land with a dull thud on the carpet. “If we were to do what?” he exclaimed, eyes frantically darting between his parents. Surely they had to be joking. 

“We are not trying to force you, Hyunjin, but we would like you to consider it,” his father said calmly, ignoring his son’s burst of frantic energy. 

“It seems a little forceful,” Hyunjin chuckled nervously, reaching his hands up to tangle his fingers in the roots of his hair, loosening his ponytail and causing him to look probably about as frazzled as he felt. 

“You don’t have to commit to anything right now,” Hyunjin’s mother explained gently, resting her chalice on the side table next to her. “We have invited Prince Minho to stay with us at the castle for the summer. All you have to do is get to know him better, and tell us how you feel at the end of the season.” 

“I already know how I feel about him,” Hyunjin grumbled, crossing his arms. “He hates me. Why couldn’t it be Prince Yeosang instead?” 

“Prince Yeosang of Celosia has already expressed his intent to marry a commoner,” his father said with a sigh. “Besides, weren’t you and Minho friends? I seem to remember you two running around the Cherry Blossom Palace wreaking havoc everywhere you went.” “Not anymore,” Hyunjin said with a pout, arms crossed defiantly. He was well aware that he was behaving childishly, but he could not bring it upon himself to care. He would continue to refuse marriage to Prince Minho even if it was the last thing he did. 

His mother gave him a look, and Hyunjin sighed, tossing his arms in the air. “Fine, he can stay here. But I make no promises beyond that.” “That is all we ask of you, son,” his father said, something akin to pride in his eyes. 

Hyunjin was dismissed from his parents’ chambers and left in a huff, not even bothering to greet Mingyu this time, leaving the poor guard with his hand lingering halfway in the air. 

Not a single member of the staff dared to speak to him as he thundered through the halls of the castle, a storm forming on his brow as he made a beeline for Seungmin’s room. 

When Minho’s parents, the king and queen of Cerasus, the Kingdom of Spring, first suggested to him that he marry the Hwang prince, he adamantly refused. He’d known Prince Hyunjin since he was a toddler and Hyunjin was a dumpling-shaped infant, on account of their parents being good friends and their kingdoms being allied. The two princes had been friends as kids, Minho had many fond memories of chasing stray cats together through the gardens of his palace and peering through the telescope in the large conservatory in the Cherry Blossom Palace. 

But as they aged, Hyunjin grew distant, and one year at the annual Harvest Ball held in Celosia, the Kingdom of Autumn, Hyunjin avoided him like the plague, even going so far as to run away when Minho tried to approach him. They were still kids then, especially Hyunjin, who was two years Minho’s junior, and Minho knew he should’ve been the more mature one and tried to talk to the other prince about it, but instead Minho reacted in the way he knew best. If Hyunjin was going to act coldly towards him, Minho would be cold right back. 

Years later, after Hyunjin had continued to act coldly towards the elder prince and Minho delivered sharp remarks any time they were forced to be together, Hyunjin had developed a reputation in his kingdom.The citizens started to refer to him as the Ice Prince, not simply because he was prince of the Kingdom of Winter, but because he acted coldly to everyone he met, staying locked up in the castle and refusing to go out to meet the citizens on holidays as was expected of royalty. 

Minho, on the other hand, though he had grown to act coldly towards Hyunjin as the years went by, had earned the title Angel Prince because of his delicate features and his benevolence towards his people. Prince Minho was often seen in soup kitchens helping the needy and donating toys to local orphanages, and had even purchased an animal shelter with his own money to keep it from shutting down. Whereas Prince Hyunjin was feared by his subjects, Prince Minho was revered. 

Though they had been friends as children, Prince Minho was firmly against marrying the frigid prince and moving to his equally frigid kingdom for even part of the year, and he vocalised as much to his parents, who were disappointed but agreed that they would not force him. But when a courier from Mahonia arrived with a letter addressed to him, Minho briefly reconsidered his stance on the Ice Prince. 

Prince Hyunjin had personally written to him saying that his parents had also tried to talk to him about a marriage between the two of them, and while he was not enthusiastic about the idea of marriage, he had made a promise to his parents that he would try to get to know Prince Minho. 

The letter was an invitation for Minho to come stay with him in Mahonia. Minho was not thrilled at the prospect of staying in the winter kingdom, where he hadn’t been since he was too young to remember; both his and Hyunjin’s parents much preferred spending their time together in the warmer Kingdom of Spring. 

Minho was moved by the letter, regardless, because it would have been easy for Prince Hyunjin to continue to avoid him like he had all these years, and the fact that he hadn’t outright rejected the idea without a word to Minho or his parents was enough for Minho to find himself packing his bags with his warmest clothes in hopes that the Ice Prince he knew had thawed his heart since the last time he had seen him. 

The day of Prince Minho’s arrival at Icehaven Palace, Hyunjin was doing his best not to be found. That is to say, he was hiding in a far corner of the library where he hoped no one would think to look. Hyunjin was not much of a reader himself, but he had gone looking for Seungmin during his days off enough times that the prince was very familiar with the royal library and all of the nooks and crannies that would make perfect hiding spots. 

That’s how he found himself wedged in a bookshelf in the least frequently visited part of the library that had been suspiciously cleared of its lower shelves, leaving an oddly Seungmin-shaped void where the books should be. Hyunjin was not a coward, not at all, but there were many things he would rather do than entertain the Prince of Cerasus for weeks and pretend that there was any chance of the two getting married, and folding himself into a pretzel in a bookshelf that was probably pressing bruises directly into his bones was apparently on that list. 

Hyunjin wasn’t sure how long he was going to hide, but he figured emerging at dusk would be a safe bet as he would only have to interact with Prince Minho at dinner and then would be able to excuse himself to his chambers for the night. Judging by soft light filtering in through the domed skylights built into the library, it was mid-afternoon, and Hyunjin would have to be here for a while longer. 

With a sigh, he reached his hand up to the shelf above him that did, in fact, contain books, and grabbed a book at random. As he pulled it off of the shelf, a plume of dust emerged with it, causing Hyunjin to splutter and cough and hold the offending book at arm’s length. Of course Seungmin would only clean the shelves he would need to create his hiding place. 

Carefully shaking out the book and wiping the cover with his sleeve, Hyunjin began to read. He wasn’t too interested in the ancient methods of agriculture of Mahonia, which, despite being the winter kingdom, were still plentiful, but he was bored enough that it didn’t matter as he soon got engrossed in the text for the sake of having something to do. 

Despite the book likely having been relegated to an unused part of the library for a reason, Hyunjin found himself losing track of time. It wasn’t until a pair of black trousers and spotless black shoes appeared in his periphery that Hyunjin became aware of how much time had passed. As he looked up to meet Seungmin’s eyes, the sky showing through the skylight had darkened significantly, dusk being well underway. 

“Just what exactly do you think you’re doing here?” Seungmin said, in the same bored tone he often adopted when Hyunjin was being too erratic for his liking. “And in my hiding place, no less?” Pouting, Hyunjin dog-eared the page and pretended not to see Seungmin’s responding wince. “Didn’t think anyone would be able to find me.”

His whining tone was met with an eye roll as Seungmin crossed his arms impatiently. “Most people would not think to look for you in the library, because everyone knows how much you hate reading. But I’m not most people. Now get up, you’re due at dinner in half an hour and you’re covered in dust. Not to mention your fiancé has been wandering the castle like a lost soul because you didn’t come to greet him.” “He’s not my fiancé!” Hyunjin protested, groaning as he slowly eased himself out of the cramped bookshelf nook, his joints creaking in protest. Seungmin made no move to help him. 

“Visiting prince who your parents are ‘suggesting’ you marry, same difference,” Seungmin said, looking as if he was holding back a laugh as Hyunjin finally stood to meet his eyes, his face red from the sudden blood rush and his long hair tossed haphazardly in his face. With a fond smile, Seungmin picked a few dust bunnies out of Hyunjin’s long hair like he’d done many times before, adjusting the prince’s hair so it was back in the neat half ponytail he normally kept it in. “Let’s go, Prince Dust Bunny, you should wash up before dinner. Wouldn’t want to make a bad impression on your future husband.” 

“That ship has long since sailed,” Hyunjin grumbled, following Seungmin with heavy footsteps as they made their way out of the library. 

“What’s with the book, by the way?” Seungmin asked as they were almost at the grand doors of the library, only sparing a cursory glance back at Hyunjin, who still had the book cradled in his arms like it was more precious than it probably was. “I’ve never seen you get more than ten pages into a book without giving up, you must have been really keen to avoid this prince.” 

“Thought Yunho might like it,” Hyunjin mumbled reluctantly, having in fact brought the book with him instead of leaving it where he found it because he thought Seungmin’s boyfriend, the palace gardener, would enjoy its contents. Hyunjin knew Yunho hated reading, but he did enjoy hearing Seungmin read to him, something the gardener and the prince shared in common. 

Seungmin’s retort died in his lips as a voice called out further down the hallway, “Prince Minho, we should really return to your chambers and wait to be summoned for dinner.” 

Hyunjin froze, quickly thrusting the book in Seungmin’s direction, leaving the poor attendant to scramble to hold it properly. Approaching from the other end of the hallway at what could only be described as a leisurely stroll, was none other than the very person Hyunjin was trying to avoid, with a very flustered guard, one of Hyunjin’s own, trailing after him hopelessly. 

Hyunjin hadn’t seen Prince Minho in years, but he looked the same, only more handsome, if that was possible. Minho had really grown into his features, much to Hyunjin’s annoyance, and his confident posture seemed to indicate that he knew it. 

The winter prince was still frozen in place when Prince Minho and his escort’s path overlapped with his. Hyunjin was regretting not ducking into the nearest supply closet to hide, because Prince Minho looked even more beautiful up close. Warm brown hair, rosy red lips and chestnut brown eyes that narrowed upon seeing Hyunjin. Hyunjin had once known Minho well enough to know when the guarded expression he used with those he wasn’t close to fell over his features, and he could still see the moment it slipped into place as the Cerisian prince stopped in front of Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin wanted nothing more than to avoid eye contact, so he let his eyes trail from the polished boots Prince Minho wore, to the silken white trousers, to the lavender silk robe and matching overcoat gilded in gold flowers. The garment was typical of Cerisian court attire, but he must have been freezing when he arrived. Hyunjin found he did not care about whether the other prince was cold on his journey or not when they finally met eyes, and the air around them was palpably tense. 

Though equal in rank, it was customary for royals to bow to each other upon greeting as a sign of respect. Neither prince moved to bow, choosing instead to maintain prolonged eye contact. Hyunjin was the first to break, because even though he didn’t want to initiate contact, he knew he should based on the fact that he was the one hosting. 

“Prince Minho,” Hyunjin said with the slightest inclination of his head toward the other royal, nothing close to the customary bow. He couldn’t bring himself to bow before the man who had been unkind to him for years, the other prince didn’t deserve that kind of respect. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Seungmin bristle slightly at his cold tone. It was not one he used often, usually reserved for courtiers who thought their status meant others should bend to their will, and Seungmin was unaccustomed to hearing it. The last time Hyunjin had seen Prince Minho had been long before Seungmin was promoted to be his personal attendant. 

“Prince Hyunjin,” the spring prince replied, equally as frosty, his stare seeming to pierce through Hyunjin’s perfectly crafted cold persona that he adopted around the Cerisian prince, straight into his soul. He looked simultaneously menacing and bored, like he would rather be anywhere else in the four kingdoms. He probably did, Hyunjin knew that Prince Minho had accepted his invitation, but he didn’t know how much of that was the prince’s own will and how much of it was his parents’. 

Suddenly, Prince Minho’s demeanour changed, his shoulders loosened as he blinked owlishly at Hyunjin, his gaze trained on Hyunjin’s hair. 

“Is that… dust in your hair?” he asked, seeming almost amused. 

Hyunjin’s eyes widened marginally, shifting his gaze to Seungmin, who had clearly missed a dust bunny in his tidying of his prince’s hair. Seungmin shrugged apologetically but utterly unhelpfully, leaving Hyunjin to fend for himself. Hyunjin took a look at the high, vaulted ceilings, almost as if begging the gods to help him come up with an answer, and failing that, his gaze trailed to the portraits of his ancestors that were lining the hallway in ten foot increments. Neither the gods nor his ancestors appeared to be on his side, because no answer came. 

Squaring his shoulders, Hyunjin looked directly into Prince Minho’s piercing brown eyes before addressing him. “What’s it to you?” was the only thing that came out of his mouth, a childish response he would’ve expected to have given at the age of eight, not twenty two. 

Frustrated and ashamed and utterly unwilling to let Prince Minho see the flush that was beginning to creep up his neck, Hyunjin surged forward, brushing past Minho with a brisk nod to his guard, Seonghwa. A baffled Seungmin was on his tail the entire time as the abashed prince rapidly made his way back to his chambers to wallow in peace. 

Prince Minho of Cerasus arrived at Icehaven Palace in the middle of a blizzard, after eighteen days of travelling across the continent on horseback. To say he was exhausted would be an understatement. He was unaccustomed to long distance travel, only travelling between cities and towns within his own kingdom, and occasionally to Celosia. But neither Cerasus nor Celosia had weather quite this terrible. Minho had never encountered such weather before, and he now understood why the Mahonian king and queen always made the journey to his kingdom instead of asking him and his parents to visit them here. Minho was quite convinced that if he had to live here for any extended period of time, he’d want to get away whenever he could as well. 

His reception was nice enough, the queen greeted him personally in the expansive main hall of the castle, fussing over his tired appearance and snow-covered form. He was assigned a personal guard, as all of his had returned to his kingdom upon abandoning him in a kingdom he had never been to with people he hardly knew (he definitely wasn’t harbouring a lifelong grudge against each and every one of those guards and their descendants), and a personal attendant for his stay in Icehaven Palace. They both seemed nice enough, and were both around his age which would be nice for a change. Many of the guards in Minho’s palace were in their thirties or older, and while they were interesting to be around, Minho did not have the chance to spend time with many people his age.

The guard was a slim but imposing figure, seeming to tower over Minho and looking like he was taking account of every breath Minho took with his wide but piercing eyes, which was a little unnerving, honestly. He was introduced as Lieutenant Park Seonghwa, one of Prince Hyunjin’s personal guards who had been reassigned to Minho for the duration of his stay. If the lieutenant was upset about this assignment, Minho could not tell. The attendant was introduced as Yang Jeongin, who apparently knew all of the ins and outs of the castle and would be able to secure Minho whatever his heart desired, within reason. Minho was polite to his new companions, as he was raised to do, but he wondered all the while how long it would take for him to evade his new shadows and be able to roam the castle without feeling like he was being kept prisoner. 

In the meantime, Minho would have to make do with the situation he was in, so he politely excused himself from the queen, though she was very insistent that he wait just a few moments longer in case her son decided to show up, but it had been abundantly clear to Minho as soon as he stepped in the castle and was greeted only by the queen and a handful of staff members that Prince Hyunjin was not going to grace them with his presence any time soon. 

After Minho insisted on making his leave, Jeongin led him to the chambers where he would be staying for the month he had to live there as Seonghwa carried the small sack of Minho’s belongings he had brought from home. The chambers were well-decorated and nearly as big as his chambers back home, he could tell it was one of the ones meant for important guests. 

The main room had a small sitting area to the right of the door, in front of a fireplace, which Jeongin had rushed in to light as soon as they arrived. The bed against the left wall was massive, much bigger than the one Minho had at home, because he hated feeling small in such a large bed. It was dressed in indigo silk sheets, with a gold brocade on the comforter and pillows. Minho smiled, recognizing the set as a gift from his parents to the Mahonian king and queen many years ago. Minho’s kingdom was the primary exporter of silk across the continent, so it was a safe bet that most if not all of the silk in the castle had been produced in his kingdom. 

Though the bedding was familiar to him, the room also had more animal hides and pelts than Minho had ever seen gathered in one place before. He supposed it was only logical, as they would need to keep warm somehow in the frigid winter kingdom, but Minho shuddered nonetheless at the sight of a particularly realistic white pelt laying across the back of one of the chairs that must have belonged to an arctic fox at some point. 

Probably interpreting his disquieted shudder as a shiver of cold, Jeongin appeared at Minho’s side, wiping the soot from his hands on a white handkerchief with the blue and gold kingdom crest embroidered on it. 

“Would you like me to draw you a bath, Your Highness?” the attendant asked, reaching to help Minho out of the heavy winter cloak he had purchased specifically for this journey. Minho obliged, letting the sharp-eyed man take the cloak off of his shoulders.

“That would be nice, thank you, Jeongin. And you may call me Minho, I do not require honourifics when we are away from the public eye. The same goes for you,” he said, turning to address Seonghwa, who was in the process of placing Minho’s bag in the armoire that was to the left of the door, parallel to the bed. The lieutenant paused, his brows furrowed and wide eyes full of confusion as he pointed to himself as if to say “Me?” 

Minho let out a laugh at seeing the man’s previously intimidating face shift into such an innocent-looking one. “Yes, you. I estimate we are all about the same age, and I don’t have the luxury of being surrounded by people my age when I am at home. So please, refer to me comfortably.” 

As Seonghwa stood there, still dumbfounded, Jeongin piped up brightly “Alright! Minho it is! How would you like your bath?” 

“So scalding my skin turns concerningly red and I have a reason to miss dinner,” Minho replied with a deadpan look on his face. Minho had come to accept that his humour was doomed to be criminally underappreciated, but to his surprise, Jeongin’s face broke out in a gleeful dimpled smile as he scurried off in the direction of the bathing room that lay beyond the bedroom. 

“You got it, boss!” the young attendant exclaimed, sounding slightly too excited about the prospect of drawing Minho the hottest bath he’d ever been in. A surprised laugh bubbled out of Minho’s chest. He could learn to like it here. 

A long bath that left him smelling so floral it reminded him of home and a short nap later, Minho decided to dress himself and wander the castle a bit before dinner. Jeongin had disappeared from his room before his nap, after unpacking Minho’s bag and steaming all of his clothes free of wrinkles and hanging them up in the armoire, a task he did not have to do but did nonetheless. Minho had a feeling the attendant would insist on doing many more things for him over the course of his stay, even though Minho was used to pretty much being left alone at home. Minho wasn’t sure if all personal attendants were this dedicated, as he had not had one since he had nannies as a child, or if Jeongin was just a special brand of enthusiastic. 

Nonetheless, Minho was able to leave his room with one less shadow than he had entered it with, only Seonghwa, who had been posted outside of his door, following him now as he wandered aimlessly throughout the cavernous halls of the castle. 

The layout was considerably different from Minho’s home, with tall sandstone walls and arched doorways and ceilings, instead of the bamboo walls and ornately painted tiered ceilings Minho was accustomed to. He had expected to be cold in the castle walking around in his Cerisian attire, since the place was made almost entirely of stone, but he actually felt strangely warm. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make Minho question exactly how the castle was being heated, as the small torches mounted on the walls appeared to be more for lighting than heating. 

Now that he thought about it, Minho remembered feeling warmer as soon as he set foot within the palace boundaries. Granted, it had still been cold, because there was still snow everywhere and Minho apparently had delicate Cerisian sensibilities, but to the best of his memory, he had started to warm up as soon as he entered the palace’s outer boundaries, not its walls. 

Minho’s thoughts were broken as he became aware of two things at once. First, Seonghwa’s presence only a couple of paces behind him, much closer than the trailing distance he’d been maintaining up until now. It appeared Seonghwa had been trying to get his attention, which he would have succeeded in doing, had something, or rather someone, not immediately grabbed Minho’s attention as soon as he spotted them. Second, walking closer to him and looking in any direction other than Minho, which let the older know immediately that he was being avoided, was none other than the Ice Prince, Hwang Hyunjin. 

Given that the other prince had not received him despite personally inviting him, Minho had an inkling that Hyunjin had been actively trying to avoid him, and would likely scurry away immediately upon making contact, as he had often done when they were children. Which was why Minho, despite having initially paused upon spotting Hyunjin, continued his leisurely stroll down the hallway, making sure to keep his eyes on Hyunjin the entire time, so that if the other prince looked in his direction he would be forced to make eye contact. 

When they inevitably did make eye contact, Minho stopped where he stood and schooled his expression into the bored one he used when the ladies who worked at the soup kitchen would try to set him up with their sons and daughters, even though he was secretly delighted at the fact that this eye contact appeared to be making Prince Hyunjin squirm. 

Certain that the Ice Prince would run away at any moment, Minho made no move to bow. He did not want to embarrass himself in front of his new guard or the attendant by Hyunjin’s side when he was left in a perfectly polite ninety degree bow in the direction of the space the younger prince had occupied before fleeing. 

“Prince Minho,” Hyunjin spoke first, startling Minho so much that his careful mask almost slipped. He had not expected the Mahonian prince to speak to him at all, though the level of frostiness in his tone was not surprising in the slightest. 

“Prince Hyunjin,” Minho returned, fighting to match the cold tone with his own that he was quite unaccustomed to using. Hyunjin had changed drastically since the last time Minho had seen him. 

He had frustratingly grown to be what looked to be a couple of inches taller than Minho, but luckily they were not standing close enough that Minho had to look up to him. He was sure he’d die if that happened. His face had lost nearly all of its dumpling-like softness that Minho had once fussed over for hours when they were children, and was now angular in a very flattering way, making him look all the more like the Ice Prince he was said to be. His hair was also much longer than Minho had ever seen it, long enough to be kept in a short ponytail, with only a few wisps falling out, and… “Is that… dust in your hair?” The question slipped out before Minho could stop it, but he found himself unable to regret it once he saw the look of panic flash across Hyunjin’s face. It made him look more real, much more like the Hyunjin he once knew. 

“What’s it to you?” the younger prince blurted, before his eyes widened and he darted past Minho, who could only sigh as he watched him leave. Definitely like the Hyunjin he once knew. 

After the mess he had made of himself in the hallway, Hyunjin did not want to attend dinner, begging Seungmin to say he had a stomachache and would be retiring early. It wasn’t a complete lie, as Hyunjin’s stomach felt as uneasy as it had used to feel on the boat rides they used to take to Cerasus when he was a child. But Seungmin refused to lie for him, and said that he would not bring him food later on if he skipped dinner, knowing quite well that Hyunjin had not eaten all afternoon and was likely starving. 

Seungmin’s persuasion unfortunately worked, so Hyunjin found himself seated across from Minho at the long but mostly empty dinner table, his mother having given up her usual spot next to the king so that the two could sit opposite each other. She seemed quite fond of Minho, asking him many questions about his travels and his life back in Cerasus, but Hyunjin tuned most of it out, focusing only on his dinner. He tried not to eat too much, but he was really starving and ended up being the last one to finish eating, well after everyone else had finished. 

After Minho excused himself abruptly but politely and retired to his chambers with Jeongin and Seonghwa on his heels, Hyunjin’s mother shifted back into her usual chair so she could glare at her son properly. 

“What was that?” she questioned, taking a sip of her plum wine as she stared daggers at her son over the rim of her goblet. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hyunjin mumbled around a large bite of persimmon tart. 

“Manners, Hwang Hyunjin,” his mother snapped, like he was five years old again. Heat rose to Hyunjin’s face as he forced himself to swallow the pastry with a sip of plum wine to wash it down. The sweetness of the wine cancelled out the sweetness of the dessert, leaving his mouth with a bitter taste in it, but Hyunjin couldn’t bring himself to eat or drink anything more now that his parents seemed set on interrogating him. 

“Why do you insist on giving our guest, your guest, the cold shoulder?” his mother questioned. Hyunjin looked to his father for help, but the king seemed very interested in the contents of his wine goblet, swirling it counterclockwise and decidedly avoiding inserting himself in the conversation. 

“He’s mean to me,” Hyunjin grumbled, hating how much he sounded like a petulant child. 

“Have you even spoken to him since he arrived?” the queen retorted. 

“Well-” Hyunjin started, before deciding that the interaction in the hallway did not count as a conversation. “No, but-”

“But what, Hwang Hyunjin?” his mother sighed. Hyunjin remained quiet, because he did not have a way to end that sentence that would not result in his mother scolding him more. He could tell she was starting to get frustrated with him as her nails were tapping rhythmically against the cherry wood table. 

The king chimed in now, placing his hand placatingly on top of his wife’s to stop the tapping. “All we ask is that you try to speak with him, Hyunjin. Perhaps he’s changed since the last time you saw him. Think about how out of his element he must feel here. It needs to be you who reaches out.” Hyunjin knew his father was right, but he hated it. He would rather walk through a blizzard in nothing but his undergarments than be the one to break the years-long tension between him and Prince Minho, but he had made a promise to his parents, after all, and he couldn’t let them down. 

Masterlist.

Taglist: @wooyussy @saltyone101 @burningupp

[mobiused]

heejin muse of hope

hyunjin witch of void

haseul sylph of mind

yeojin seer of life

vivi maid of time

kim lip mage of light

jinsoul prince of blood

choerry rogue of space

yves bard of doom chuu

knight of breath

gowon heir of heart

olivia hye lord of rage.

Not expanding on this.

[chans-room]

Maybe she’s born with it…

And the winner… of Americas… Next. Top. Model is…

HYUNJIN

[j-a-nuary]

NACIFIC X Stray Kids - Come Play with Hyunjin

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. TEASER a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. estimated around 12k

AUG'S NOTES. me and my inner thoughts… as a fic 😭 i cannot believe this is my longest writing yet!!! hopefully you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[therhythmafterthesummer]

My friend is a baby stay and she’s been trying to get into fanfic and I pointed her towards your runaway princess fic! I Hope she likes it cause she’s a big fantasy person!!! not to rush but do you think you’ll ever write more of that high fantasy level fic?

thanks!!!💙💙💙💙

hi hi! that's sooo cute! i hope she likes it hahah

well, almost my entire masterlist is fantasy stuff lol. i also have some WIPs that are fantasy related. i'll elaborate under the cut.

So, by far, my biggest fantasy story is Safe Haven (Chan is, among other things, a spaceship pilot, and the reader is a Queen that's also a witch). the link has been removed from my masterlist, but the story is still available somewhere in my blog, as well as my ao3. However, i'm currently reworking it (it's a 20 chapter story with over 120k words and counting 😭. i've already reworked 11/20 chapters), so i'd suggest to read it after that's done kjsfhskjdhf hopefully i'll be able to finish before the end of August.

When it comes to published and available works, these are the ones i consider fantasy related. the ones in bold are the ones i think are more fantasy focused:

The King of the Forest (Chan. has a part 2. Werewolf King AU,sort of mediaeval setting).

Purple Flame (Chan. also has a part 2. Dokkaebi(Goblin) AU).

The Taste of Love (Minho. Vampire AU, sort of mediaeval setting).

Cherry eyes, cherry lips (Minho. Vampire AU, modern setting).

Blessed (Hyunjin. Incubus AU, modern setting).

Odd Eyes (Jeongin. Demon AU, period setting).

even if it takes place in a modern setting, i also consider WereRoommies (Werewolf AU) as fantasy, which has stories for many members (that can in theory be read separately) fantasy.

i hope any of these are to her liking (:

As for WIPs, i'm working on the ones i'll list below. again, i'll bold the ones i think will be more fantasy focused:

Warlock King Minho (Fantasy, Royal AU, sort of mediaeval setting).

Werewolf Chan (Fantasy, sort of mediaeval setting. reader is a witch).

Werewolf Seungmin (Fantasy, modern setting. it's part of the WereRoomies universe).

Werewolf Jisung (Fantasy, modern setting. it's part of the WereRoomies universe).

Mage Seungmin (Fantasy, sort of mediaeval setting).

[written-in-flowers]

The Drifter: The Sea King's Curse (1.02b)

Pairing: siren!hyunjin x fem!reader

Word Count: 10k

Genre: fantasy, smut, fluff, adventure

Summary: When the corpses of mutilated mermaids wash up on shore, the lawmen of Levanter Bay seek YN's help to find the cause. They end up discovering this goes much farther than expected.

Tags: Graphic violence (just fist fighting and monster slaying), kidnapping, animal death (hunting out of necessity), graphic descriptions of corpses, death, autopsies, thalassophobia, fear of deep water, megalophobia (fear of large objects), sea monsters, mind control, mind manipulation, mental illness, dark magic, mentions of war, slight ptsd. vaginal fingering, p in v sex, monster fucking, bigdick!hyunjin. underwater sex, public sex, outdoor sex, monster dick

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Drifter Masterlist

Part 2 < |

***

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Minho took your hand as he created a teleportation circle underneath you. In a lung-crushing second, you left the dusty roads of Levanter Bay and ended up right under the water. The freezing temperatures shocked your bones and muscles. That familiar burning sting radiated in your abdomen as you felt yourself drowning in the vast ocean space. Yet, in seconds, your vision cleared and you breathed through your gills once again. When you could see better, you realized you stood on the transport station platform. Several other people teleported into the designated area for mages and warlocks to plant directly into the city. 

“Well, that was easy,” you said. “You should've come with us the first time.”

“And miss fighting pirates? No way,” he snickered, swimming ahead of you. “Let's go to Yejin. She'll get us into the palace.”

You weren’t sure how true that’d be. Considering how Yejin will likely be barred from seeing Tytos again, you’ll need another person to sneak you inside. Swimming through the city, you expected to find city guards in full force with orders to find you. Mizu might have not seen you, but his master might have if they’d gone into Tytos’s mind. You thought there’d be obstacles in place to stop you, yet you didn’t see anyone in particular. Hydrus ran business as usual. 

“Minho,” Yejin spotted him first when you reached her shop, “Thank goodness you’ve come.” She embraced him, before she looked at you, “I trust you’ve learned something new.”

“We have everything we need,” you told her. 

“Jeongin had these,” Minho showed her the pouch, “And he knew the incantation to draw it out. All we need is a way into his chambers. The sooner we can do this, the better. I suspect Mizu is already on to us.”

“He is,” she confirmed. “He sent his lap dogs in here to intimidate me,” she glowered, “Telling me that my services to the royal family will no longer be needed. They said the king and queen have a new physician, and that I’ve been relieved of my place on the council. Sungwoo told me he said something similar to him this morning. Mizu plans to replace all the advisors with people of his own.”

“That means the king must be close to death,” Minho said. “He wouldn’t make such rash decisions if he didn’t think he’d succeed. Yejin, tell me there’s a way into the palace. All I need is a few minutes.”

“I'm afraid it's been barricaded from the public,” she answered. “Nobody is allowed in or out.”

“Then what the hell can we…”

You stared out the window into the street. Up and down the road you saw people going about their daily business, but you then saw them. Yesterday, you hardly noticed the city guards in the street but today you couldn't help not noticing them. If anyone can get you inside the palace, it will be them. 

“Minho,” you turned to him, “Have you ever been arrested before?”

“Once or twice in my youth,” he joined you at the window, nodding slowly, “I’ve heard the jail cells under the palace can be dangerous with the eels floating around.”

“We won’t be going to jail,” you removed your heavy jacket and shirt, “Follow my lead.”

“YN, what are you thinking?” Yejin asked, worried as you left the shop. “This can severely backfire on the both of you.”

“I know.” 

The both of you went onto the street. Nobody in particular noticed you right away, but you knew it’d be a matter of time. People will eventually see your markings and the stumps on the top of your head, and alert a guard. You kept your eyes peeled for any signs of a guard as you and Minho moved in the direction of the palace. It did not take long to gain attention. Right outside a tavern, three city guards stood around a high-top table, feasting on crabs and oysters. You nudged Minho, who’d been checking the other side of the street, and nodded over to them. He agreed, and you swam near them. 

“-You sure we won’t have to pay for these, Pollux?” asked one of the mermen in his bronze armor. A spear and shield strapped to his back, a knife also hung from his waist. He shucked another oyster as he said, “That barmaid seemed pretty serious about the bill.”

Pollux, a shark hybrid with his distinctive back fin and sharp teeth, scoffed at this, “As if there’s anything she can do. As long as we have this armor and these spears, boys, we run this town.”

A light brush against his back fin had Pollux whipping around as you continued walking. 

“Hey!” he called after you, “Watch where you’re going.”

You turned around, trying to conceal your smile, “Forgive me.”

The mere glimpse of your stumps and markings made the hybrid pause. Black eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he grinned a toothy smile, “What’s a demon and a fairy doing so far from the mainland?”

“I’m going to visit my aunt,” you lied, “Alcina. She told me she’d be at the palace.”

“Bullshit,” he huffed, “No Alcina lives in the palace. The palace is off limits to citizens and…mainlanders,” he said the last word as an insult. 

“Seems like you’re not as informed as you think, hybrid,” you replied back, “Go back to your crab and leave my business to me.”

“Why you…” 

He grabbed your arm the moment you turned around, his hands digging into your flesh and bruising them. Minho immediately kicked at his arm, which loosened his grip. 

“Minho!” 

The hybrid took a bite at Minho, who dodged him and slammed his fist into his nose. Like a real shark, this blinded the guard for a moment before Minho dealt him another one. One of the other guards launched himself at you, but you sidestepped him right away. Long claws managed to scratch at your bicep, which burned and stung in the water. You didn’t let that stop you. Your movements are not as fast underwater, the merman easily swished and rounded you until you grew dizzy. You made weak attempts to fight against him, though everything natural instinct told you to kill him. He chuckled mockingly when your fist barely touched him. Minho, on the other hand, moved as easily as his opponent did. Both of them throwing punches and grappling, the hybrid eventually subdued Minho with a tight grappling move. 

“You shouldn’t pick fights you’re not going to win,” the hybrid chuckled, pulling out a pair of shackles from his belt. You heard them clamp and lock in place at Minho’s wrists. “Now, you’re going into a cell until you rot.”

“Mizu won’t be happy about this,” you called out to him.

“And what would you know about that, mainlander?” grunted the merman holding you.

“Because I don’t think he’d like hearing the person he’s been expecting was so roughly handled by his thugs,” you thought up on the fly. “My aunt is a special guest of his, and she wouldn’t like hearing about this either.” 

“If he was expecting you, why aren’t you there?”

Good point. “We were delayed,” said Minho, still struggling, “By that sea snake that is going up and down the coast. We’re on our way to see them now.” 

“About what?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” you shot at him. “Go ahead and arrest us, and see that Mizu doesn’t have your heads for this.” When they did not appear convinced, you said, “My aunt is not a forgiving person. If I tell her Mizu’s men manhandled myself and my bodyguard, she will not be so lenient on him. You know how the chain of command works, right? Big boss gets mad, takes it out on the smaller boss and the smaller boss then takes it out on his pawns.”

The men weighed your words, “Cuff them both.” He gave you a simpering smile, “If you’re telling the truth, demon, then you’ll have no problem going before Mizu himself.”

“Do it,” you challenged, “It’ll be like getting a personal escort.” 

Cold, rough steel went around your wrists, and the merman tugged you roughly behind him with a chain. You and Minho dragged down the street side-by-side, he whispered over to you.

“Do you really think this is going to work?”

“Maybe,” you said. “We only need to get inside the palace.” 

“And what do you plan to do from there?”

“We’ll just have to wing it,” you shrugged. 

“YN, you are the worst planner, you know that?”

You snorted, “You have no idea.” 

The palace truly resembled a fortress now. Soldiers with bronze helmets and armor remained on the battlements, standing still and keeping an eye on the front entrance; two more stood on either side of the stone doors closing off the palace. The mermen and shark hybrid allowed through with a few whispered words, they dragged you and Minho towards the palace steps where you saw two more guards, and several standing around the expansive area. Inside the main hall, men in gold and bronze armor stood on either side of every doorway you passed. Yes, sneaking in here would have been difficult, especially with the domesticated guard sharks swimming up and down hallways. They took you towards a pair of golden doors, and you assumed this must be the throne room. 

“Your Greatness!” the hybrid called out from the doorway, “I have brought more mainlanders.”

Swimming through the high ceiling halls to a throne room, you saw Mizu sitting on a throne of driftwood and stone. His eyes narrowed the second he saw you and Minho. 

“You’re supposed to be dead, demon,” he grunted through sharp teeth. “I sent the pirates to finish the job.”

“That’s what you get for sending a pirate to do a professional's job,” you replied, staring straight back at him. 

“She says she knows Lady Alcina,” the hybrid told him. 

Mizu rushed over to them, crimson tail fluctuating between dark and bright reds, and examined you. A wicked smile crept over his pale face, “She certainly does. Lady Alcina has often spoken of the demon who brought ruin and pain to her masters.” His voice laced with venom, you wondered if Alcina herself happened to be in the castle. He looked over to Minho, “And you’ve brought a friend. Who is this?”

“Lee Know,” Minho responded, defiant eyes glaring at Mizu, “Her bodyguard.”

“Ha, some bodyguard you are if you both ended up in shackles,” he then snapped his fingers, “Take them to The Lair. They can join that siren we found sneaking through the garden.”

“Siren? What siren?”

Mizu chuckled as the guards shoved you forward, “You’ll see. It truly is a shame. Hwang would’ve made such a proficient navigator. But, this is what happens when you break the law around here.”

“What did you do to him?” you called back angrily, reaching a backdoor in the throne room. “What did you do?”

Mizu’s laugh was cut off by the shutting of a heavy door. Minho and you grunted and struggled against your captors as they led you down spiraled steps. The water here pinched your muscles and chilled your bones harder than before. Your eyes widened as light faded away into darkness the further you went down. Hyunjin must have gotten caught sneaking into the palace. The idea of them hurting him fueled your need for escape. You sensed where they planned on taking you. 

“Ares!” Pollux called when you reached an iron gate, “Open up! We got more fish feed!”

Another merman opened the gate, and your eyes burned adjusting to the dimly glowing torches holding flaming fish inside them. You caught glimpses of other cells down the aisle. It was when the guards took your sword and Minho’s quiver and bow that fear truly set inside you. Your magic did not work well under water; Minho might be able to cast spells, but maybe not as effectively. 

“YN…” Minho said, keeping his voice steady as they pushed you towards another gate at the end. 

Through the gate, you saw light shining into the water, and you guessed it must be coming from a hole somewhere above. You did not want to know what might be behind that tightly locked gate. 

“Bring out the siren,” Pollux called out. 

From another cell, the guards pulled out Hyunjin. A gasp caught in your throat when you saw his face: the bridge of his nose broken by a nasty cut, his bottom lip swelled from the bruise on the corner and you spotted several bruises on the fleshy parts of his torso. They’d beaten him. 

“Hyunjin,” his name left your lips in a soft cry. You tried reaching for him, but the guard tugged your chains away. “Hyunjin, what happened? Why are you here?”

“I tried getting to the king,” he said, teeth colored by blood in his mouth. “They caught me in the coral garden under his balcony.”

“What were you thinking, Hyunjin?” whispered Minho as the three of you went to the gate. 

“Yejin said he might be awakened by memories,” he said, voice cracking. “I was good friends with Ormand. I thought showing him a gift Ormand gave me might snap him out of the haze. I…I only wanted to help him.”

“Hyunjin,” your eyes stung, but tears are hard to produce in water. 

“Save your tears, demon,” Pollux said viciously, his men opening the large iron gates, “Pontus doesn't particularly care for them.”

With a hard shove, the three of you were casted off into the abyss. Panic struck you in the chest and tightened around your legs, making it hard to breathe even with your gills. Scanning the enclosed space, you saw the rocky stands where people might have occupied at one time; balconies high up looked down into the middle of the arena. The open ceiling kept the first rays of light from breaking through, leaving you in semi-darkness. 

“What do we do now?” Minho asked, no longer hiding his fear. “What's in here?”

Something big. Something deadly. 

“The leviathan,” Hyunjin breathed, moving closer towards you. “Pontus, the great leviathan. Back in the old days, before Tytos, they used to put really bad criminals down here. If they managed to defeat him, they could leave…Notice Pontus is still here and they're not…” He squeaked when a high cry came from beneath his feet. “YN, do something.”

“I can thwart it with shadow magic,” said Minho, “But I don't know how well it'd do against something so large. Even threshers who came onto land are hard to defeat alone.”

“My fire magic won't be of any use down here, and they took my sword.”

Defenseless. You hated the sinking dread pulling you down as you searched for a way out. The open ceiling seemed to be covered with a net: keeping victims in and keeping Pontus from breaking out. Hyunjin clung on to you, and Minho took your hand absentmindedly. The chilling sensation of being watched started consuming you. You sensed its eyes from somewhere below, possibly above now. 

“The net,” Minho whispered to you, “You can burn through it.”

“I don't know if I could.”

“You can try.”

“It'll outswim me,” you said. 

“Hyunjin can distract them.”

“What?” Hyunjin glanced over at him. “Distract it? How?!”

“Hyunjin, you're a siren,” Minho said, “Sing to it.”

“Sing to it?! It'd rather eat me than hear me sing.” 

“Did you forget that your singing attracts anything with ears?” 

“I know I can but…” he looked out into the opening apprehensively. “But, this isn't a shark or an octopus.”

“Hyunjin,” you took his hands in yours, “You can do this. Minho and I will be right here the whole time. We only need a few minutes.”

“Ha! As if that is going to help you!”

Her voice echoed throughout the arena. It bounced off walls and rippled through the air towards you. You had no idea where it came from, yet it boiled your blood regardless. 

“Alcina…” You growled, but did not move from your hiding spot. 

“Here she is!” Alcina cried out, “The brave fire demon, Multak! Multak, The Vanquisher! Multak, The Shield of Fire! How small you look down in this pit of mine! Step into the light, child. Let me look upon you.”

Hyunjin and Minho held onto you, but you swam forward into the arena. You stared up into the stands where you saw a pale woman occupying a box seat. Obviously meant for royalty, she stood there in a strapless strip with fringes that flowed about her like a curtain in the wind. You couldn't see her clearly from the height, but you still glared at her. 

“Hmpf,” she huffed discontentedly, “I thought you'd be scarier. You really are a little thing aren't you?”

“I still vanquished your great master,” you challenged, “Clearly size isn't everything.”

“Until you're in a leviathan pit, I imagine,” she quipped. “You really should have kept your nose out of my business. Your kind don't do well underwater.”

“You're hurting innocent people. That is enough to make it my business.”

“Psh, I knew you were a mortal lover, but I didn't think it was this bad,” she cackled. “Well, now you can die with the mortals you so dearly love. You can think about that as Pontus swallows you whole.”

“You'll pay, Alcina,” you said, the threat turning into a promise. “I'll make sure you do.”

She cackled again, turning around, “Sure I will. I will be Queen of the Seven Seas and you'll be leviathan food. Ta-ta, little flame!”

The sound of the door slamming resonated through the arena. The high cry came once more, a hiss layered right underneath it. Your frustration outweighed the fear of being stuck in the middle of the ocean, weightless and dozens of feet beneath water. A creaking sound caught your ear from behind, and you guessed Minho or Hyunjin accidentally pushed on the bars of the arena. It was only you three down here. 

You stared upwards to see the thin netting above. It was your only way out. Without another thought, you began kicking up to the ceiling. Currents reached your tiptoes, and you pictured the massive creature swimming right up behind you. The leviathan cried once more, the sound much closer and fear jumped into your throat. Adrenaline made you swim faster. You could feel it gaining speed from the bottom of the arena. 

“YN, look out!” Minho cried from somewhere to your left as a jet of shadow magic sailed right under your feet. 

You rolled aside as the monster hit the ceiling, though it did no damage to it. Pontus was about fifty to sixty feet long, made of gray and blue scales with fanned membranes around its narrow head like a lion's mane. Teeth as long as swords lined its mouth, and another hiss made its tongue quiver like a snake. Pontus was large enough to swallow a carriage whole if he wished; mouth wide enough to eat a regime of soldiers. Your entire body froze, drifting weightlessly away from the monstrous beast. At the sight of its slanted black eyes, you thought of Zunar when he'd taken you to a spider's nest. 

“But, mentor, it's scary in there. I'm afraid. I’m not brave enough.”

“That is the only time we can be brave, little flame.”

You thought of his glowing orange eyes that always looked on you so fondly. He'd believed in you when others did not. He said he pulled your egg from the lava lake himself after it cracked open in the churning, boiling lava. You should have died, he told you, but you didn't. You lived with a few minor burns. Your strength, he said, is what he admires the most. Staring down this beast, you imagined what he might say when you tell him you died facing a leviathan head on. He'd laugh, and say something to the effect of “your fire burns even under water!” 

Pontus’s next cry sounded like a low whistle, and you saw it bend its long neck all the way back. You did not dare wince or look away. If the thing did swallow you whole, you’d burn its insides. The leviathan rattled its neck, and made to strike until a voice came from below your feet. 

“Upon one summer’s morning, I carefully did stray down by the walls of whopping, where I met a sailor gay …”

The beast whirled its head down towards the ground, though stayed still as if searching for the sound. You recognized Hyunjin’s sweet sounding voice. Although terror shook his notes, it still pulled the sea monster inwards. 

“Conversing with a young lass, who seemed to be in pain, saying William when you go I fear you'll ne'vr return again…”

Hyunjin’s glittering scales stood him out in the dark vastness below, and you caught a glimpse of his glistening pearl and starfish headpiece. Pontus ignored his current prey to focus on the singing siren below. You shook in the water; both the cold and anxiety rattled your bones watching the creature slowly swim downwards. You couldn’t help following it, even if Minho might be perched somewhere nearby with a plan of his own. 

“My heart is pierced by cupid, I disdain all glittering gold. There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold…” 

You saw Hyunjin sit down in the middle of the arena floor, staring up at the leviathan with tearful eyes. In the glowing lights of the circular space, his body appeared to shine like a pearl in sand. You forced yourself not to listen too closely as he grabbed the monster’s attention. Looking around the middle balconies, you saw Minho pressed against a wall with another figure beside him. You also saw the bow he kept directed at Pontus. How did he get it back? When he beckoned you over to him with a head nod, you quickly reached him. 

“He can’t sing forever,” you said, “Take the shot.”

“I got to get lower,” he replied, “But I can’t get him with only arrows. You’d need to get on top of its head and stab it right on the center. That’s where the skin is the thinnest.”

“And how the hell can I do that?”

“With this.”

He stepped out of the darkness, holding your sword. You’d never been so glad to see Sheriff Bahng until now. 

“How did you get here?” you asked incredulously, taking your sword from him. 

“I snuck in using Ma’s potion,” he said as if this should be obvious, “And took out the guards outside. It wasn’t hard with how clueless they are.” 

“...His hair it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal. My happiness attend him wherever he may go…”

“You take the left and I’ll take the right?” he asked you, unsheathing his own dagger. “Minho takes the middle?”

You sneered at him, “Of course.” 

The three of you separated to your indicated spots below. Pontus remained several feet above Hyunjin, whose hands gripped the sands underneath tightly. His tail rigid and body posed in place, you would’ve thought he was a statue. You noticed his singing grew louder, dark eyes glaring at the monster ahead of him. The defiance and daring in his eyes burned as he continued singing. 

“...From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I'll wander, weep and moan. All for my jolly sailor until he sails home…”

You sensed his voice starting to waver, the song coming to an end. With its head straight ahead, you had a perfect view of the eye. Blind the creature, and it’ll be down one sense to prey upon. But, you couldn’t risk it seeing you. You wracked your brain for a song to sing, even if you sounded terrible, but suddenly your mind went blank. 

“My heart is pierced by cupid. I disdain all glittering gold, there is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold….”

The singing came from the left side of the lower arena; a woman’s voice this time. Pontus hissed once more, attention snapping to this newcomer. Chan’s merfolk blood made him a much faster swimmer, so he had no problem shooting towards Pontus and stabbing his dagger into the black eye. Pontus screeched, his neck waving about as he thrashed at the pain. You saw Chan holding onto his weapon tightly and stabbing it a second time. When he moved away, he vanished back into the darkness quickly and you caught the faintest glimpse of him circling the back of him. 

“My name it is Maria, a merchant's daughter fair, and I have left my parents and three thousand pounds a year…”

This voice came from right under your seats, and you saw the shimmering tiara of Hannah Bahng . When Pontus whipped his head over towards Hannah’s voice, you took the chance. Using the railings for a boost, you raised your sword above your head and aimed into its left eye. The burning runes did not flash in flames, but instead small air bubbles and hot steam. Feet planted on its upper lip, you nearly slipped forcing your sword out of its head. Pontus’s cries shook the stone walls, likely alerting anyone within a mile range. You swam away, struggling to kick your aching legs before two arms went right under yours. 

“Its head,” Hannah said in your ear, “Stab it in the head.”

“Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be, who love a jolly sailor that ploughs the raging sea…”

Yejin. That voice must be Yejin’s, and you spotted her right beside Minho. He notched an arrow made of wispy purple smoke and shot it. The arrow moved through the water like air, and lodged right in the gray membranes protecting the top of his head. The arrow’s magic spread across the head defense like acid, burning the thin skin away. Hannah dropped you off right inside the breakage, and you used your free hand to grab onto the cauterized webbing. Yejin, Hannah and Hyunjin continued singing through various points in the arena to distract Pontus from the demon climbing higher on his head. Your hands pushed against the hard scales to find the thin spot in the skull. 

“My heart is pierced by cupid. I disdain all glittering gold. There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold.” 

“Stab it, YN!” you heard Chan call from somewhere nearby, “Stab it now!”

Pontus bellowed, head turning upright and you nearly lost your balance. Catching yourself on a charred membrane, you took hold of your sword and stabbed it dead center. The sudden penetration made Pontus howl in pain, his body thrashing about wildly. You did your best to hold on to his broken fans as he waved his head to throw you off. Heart pounding loudly, you took several deep breaths as a rush of water and air blew past you. Gravity gradually began pulling you downwards, you frantically jiggled and pulled your sword until it came loose. Sword tightly in hand, you pushed off the beast’s head right as it sunk towards the bottom. You watched from above as Pontus’s body coiled into a spiral as it thumped to the sea floor. Against the white sand, it looked like a black picture frame. 

“We did it!” Hyunjin cried gleefully, swimming up to you from the bottom. “We did it!”

You let him scoop you up into a hug, twirling you around in the water. “You were brilliant, Hyunjin,” you told him when he stopped spinning. “You were so brave.”

“You were braver,” he insisted. “You would've fought that thing head on if I hadn't distracted it, huh?”

“Probably. I would've just gone home if I'd died here,” you shrugged, “So no big deal.”

Hyunjin saw through your brave face, but kissed you anyway. You leaned into the kiss, wanting it to absorb you before you faced the next part. When you pulled away, you looked right at him. 

“I’m surprised I didn’t get pulled into that voice of yours,” you said, fingers under his chin, “It really is enchanting.”

“I can do more of it for you later.” 

“I’d like that.” 

“Tytos,” Minho quickly swam past you both, “We have to get to him before she kills him! Yejin, what's the fastest way there?”

“Through that door,” she pointed to the double doors Alcina left through. “It has stairs that take you right to the second floor of the palace. It is a bit of a walk, but much faster than going back the way we came.”

“Then let's go.”

Minho led your group up to the double doors which Alcina left unlocked. The arrogance already jumped out at you. As Yejin said, a spiraling staircase that fit three people across went all the way up to the palace. The hidden doorway leading out from the arena suggested the royal family's personal entrance to their private box down below. You expected some kind of resistance or danger awaiting you, but the passage went rather smoothly up the unused staircase. Once on the first floor, more sharks and guards filled the hall. You thought one of them might see a group of people coming up from the arena, but none of them noticed you. Yejin guided you up the second staircase to the top landing where they’d stationed more guards. The guards here wore black breastplates and carried iron spears. When you got a better look at them, they shared the same blank eyes associated with brain fog. 

“You got anything for them?” Chan asked Minho in a whisper. 

“Only this.”

Out of a pouch on his belt, Minho withdrew what resembled a sea urchin. The spiky black ball gracefully floated away towards a pair of brainwashed guards. When one of them noticed the urchin, he reached forward to seize it and the moment he made contact, the urchin exploded. Instead of squishy remains, a thick black substance sprayed on both guards. You saw the toxic goo wrap around their mouths and eyes, slowly strangling them around the neck. None of you had time to scold Minho for using such a trick, since he sailed right past them to a pair of doors nearby. 

“Minho, wait,” Yejin called out and stopped him from opening the door. “We can't just barge in. Allow me to handle this.”

Minho’s determination made it difficult for him to back down. He gave Yejin a stubborn glance as he said, “We don't have time for pleasantries, Yejin.”

“No, but storming in there will ruin everything.” From a bag hanging from her waist, Yejin withdrew a blue bottle holding a clear liquid. “Chan and YN will drink this potion, while you remain invisible on your own. Hyunjin and Hannah will distract them for you.” 

“You already thought about this,” Minho said, impressed. 

“You thought I’d come here without a plan?” she smiled. “Now, you two drink.” 

Chan drank half the bottle and you drank the other half. Before your eyes, Chan’s features slowly disappeared until you saw nothing but the opposite wall. Minho, with a snap of his fingers, vanished instantly. Hyunjin brushed your hand with his as he passed you to join Yejin at the pair of doors. The group braced themselves when Yejin knocked on the door and a female voice called for them to enter. 

“Yejin, thank goodness you’re here!” the woman cried out, “They won’t let me see him!”

Yejin, Hannah and Hyunjin went further into the room while you, Minho and Chan stayed on the outskirts of the lounge area. The mermaid’s black plaits flowed to her waist, and she wore a bralette made of shining seashells and gems. Like with so many merfolk, rows of tiny conch shells, pearls and opals shone against her dark hair, with ivory bands decorating her long hair. Queen Calypso looked as if she’d been crying for hours, her eyes puffy and red with her lips parted in every sob. Yejin embraced her immediately, causing the queen to cry harder. 

“Who won’t let you see him?” she asked tenderly. 

“Mizu and that sea witch he brought with him,” she sobbed. “He told me he brought her to assess Tytos’s condition and she says he is beyond healing. She said the best thing to do was help him along to The King’s Hall, an-an-and they won’t let me say goodbye!”

You listened to the queen’s heartache with stinging eyes. The pair won’t even let her see him off into the afterlife. It reminded you once again of the people who lost their loved ones so tragically during the war. You recalled the friends you’d made who died in battle, never able to give a last goodbye. Alcina and Mizu would rob her of this to fulfill their devious plan; the plan that killed several mermaids and took their dignity from them. 

‘I, Multak of the Fire Clan, pledge my life and my sword to The Mar. I will be the shield who guards the innocent from the damned. I will be the sword who punishes the wicked and the cruel. I swear it from this day and all the days yet to come.’

Even if you no longer lived in The Mar, you’d made a vow for life. 

“They cannot bar The Queen from seeing her husband,” you heard Yejin say firmly. “Calypso, you are Queen of the Seven Seas. You are wife to the Great King, and mother to his children. You are The People’s Queen. Mizu is only an advisor, and he has no authority to tell you where you can and cannot be. Come with me. We will see Tytos together.” 

She glanced in your direction, linking her arm with Calypso’s and opening the bedroom doors. Right away, you followed the group inside. 

“Your Majesty,” Mizu stood at the foot of the bed, stunned by her sudden appearance, “And Lady Yejin. I told you that your services are no longer-”

“-Shove it, traitor,” Yejin snapped. “Her Majesty wishes to see her husband. She is allowed that right.”

“She will disturb my healing process, Lady Yejin.”

Alcina stood on the other side of the bed, bent over the king with her hand on his forehead. You heard his faint groaning from the stone bed, seeing his body more malnourished than the last time. Calypso let out a tearful gasp, covering her mouth at the sight of her dying husband. Alcina was who you truly studied: lean, tall and pale, black scales went from her shoulders to the eight tentacles keeping her upright. The markings on her arms and chest swirled were the swirling patterns of the water clan. Unlike your bright markings, hers were pure black. She no longer carried demonic magic, but you spotted a glowing crystal hanging from her neck. A totem for magic. Every inch of you burned seeing the small horn stumps that once resembled ram horns. You were right. Alcina was an exile. 

“Healing process?” Yejin gave the king a quick look over, “He doesn’t seem to be healing to me.”

“It’s a transition spell,” she lied. “It’ll help him pass painlessly to the next life.”

“And who gave you the authority to murder our king?” Yejin snapped. 

“I did,” Mizu said. “I spoke with the other advisors, and we all agreed it is best for His Majesty to be given a merciful death. This is what is best for him.”

“Best for him or best for you?”

“I don’t gain any pleasure from witnessing this, my lady, but would you prefer Tytos continues to suffer?”

“He is only suffering because of you and this witch you’ve forced upon us,” she spat back at him.

“And what would your remedy be, my lady?” Alcina drew. “No meager potion or minor spell will heal him.” 

“No, but I can heal him just fine, Witch.”  

Minho clicked his fingers and he appeared beside Yejin. You saw the faintest glow of black and purple lingering over his fingertips like a baseball. Rage burned through the young fairy’s body, his magic threatening to spill over if pressed enough. You already saw him holding the black crystal in his hand, and knew with a quick flick of his wrist he’d get the job done. A brush of water went past you; Chan must be positioning himself behind Mizu. Alcina was all yours. 

By her hesitation, Alcina did not expect to see Minho or Hyunjin ever again. 

“On behalf of Queen Calypso and The Sea Council,” Yejin said, “I sentence you and your witch-”

“-I am no mere witch, sea scum!” Alcina snapped. “I am far greater than any mortal witch amongst you.”  

“You are a witch,” Hyunjin hissed. “A witch who throws innocents into Pontus’s pit unjustly,” Hyunjin continued for her. “A witch who has been poisoning the king’s mind for months. A sea witch who orchestrated several merfolk slayings, predator attacks and pirate raids. We know who you are, Alcina, and you do not scare anyone here.”

Alcina cackled, “How cute. Where is Multak then, hm? I imagine the little fire brat died fighting our leviathan. I always told my master she wasn’t as strong as she seemed.”

You swam around the bed. Her words alone acted like wind fueling a kindling fire. You stood behind her, gripping your sword tightly in both hands. Already, the invisibility potion started wearing off. You must have not drunk enough to last as long as before. Good. You wanted her to see you. 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he smirked, “YN’s not dead.”

“Oh? Then where is she?”

“Right here,” you said from right behind her. 

Alcina whipped around, her eyes narrowed and searching the air around her for you. “Invisibility,” she scoffed, “Of course you’d use that. Dranesh always said you fire demons were bad with invisibility. You’re too brash and loud. Come out of the shadows, you little-”

“Silence, deserter.” 

Your invisibility melted away when you thrust your sword into her belly. Runes burning like coals, the dragon fire in your blade seared her skin and sizzled her insides. Alcina, eyes wide and mouth blowing air bubbles in every scream, tried pushing you from her but failed each time. 

“What was your real name?” you asked her in a growl, pushing it further into her. When she did not answer, you repeated, “What is your real name, oathbreaker?!”

“Ran-Rannuth…”

“Rannuth of the Water Clan,” you said, “You are charged with treason, murder, interfering in mortal matters and breaking your exile restrictions. I sentence you to death.” You moved closer to her as her body began dematerializing from you, “May The Blind One have no mercy on you.” 

Withdrawing your sword from her torso, you watched Alcina gradually turn into seafoam in front of you. Your sword dimmed as its power faded away, but your own rage continued to burn. With one glance over at Mizu, you saw the terror instantly flush his face. This brief distraction was enough for Chan to hold a knife to his neck. 

“Wha-wh-what?!” Mizu shrieked, looking frantically at each of you as Chan restrained him. “No, no, wait, wait!” 

“Mizu Tanaka, you are charged with treason and conspiracy to commit treason,” Calypso sniffed, standing up straight with her head up high. “Guards, seize him.” 

Chan only released Mizu when two guards clapped chains on his wrists. “Your Majesty, please!” Mizu cried, “Please, I was only thinking of the realm. I was thinking of you! Please, don't do this to me!”

“You only thought about yourself,” she glared, “You have plagued this family long enough. Take him away.”

“Calypso! Calypso, I only ever had love for you-” Mizu began to say as the guards dragged him from the room, “I only thought about your happiness! Do not do this to me! Please!”

You watched him be led from the room. Your markings glowed bright orange, hot to the touch and steaming in the water. Only the gentle touch of Chan’s carefully placed hand took you out of yourself. 

“Talk about getting heated, huh?” He said. 

“Shut up,” you said, embarrassed suddenly. 

“Tytos!” 

Hyunjin’s voice caught everyone’s attention, and you all turned to the bed. The king, frail and skeletal, began convulsing on the bed. His moans gurgled and a purple fluid seeped from the sides of his mouth. Minho didn't need to be told to act. He moved the queen and Yejin aside and pressed the black crystal to the king's forehead. 

“Replenish thy mind and embrace the light,” he said strongly, holding the stone to the infection site, “Replenish thy mind and embrace the light….”

At first, the king continued seizing and frothing at the mouth. 

“Replenish thy mind and embrace the light!” 

A bright white light broke through the cracks in the stone. The rays directed themselves over Tytos’s face as Minho continued his mantra. Tytos’s head swished back and forward, feral growls coming from his throat while spitting more purple tinged foam. You saw his nails dig into the stone bed underneath him while the gem shone brighter on him. Whatever possessed him fought hard to stay inside. Tytos’s body went completely rigid, bones and skin stretched far, and let out a high scream; he whipped and resisted Minho’s words, but Minho held on strongly. 

“Please!” you heard Calypso cry, “Please, Tytos!”

“Replenish thy mind and embrace the light!”

“Please, my love, fight it!” Calypso cried, tears in her eyes, “Please! Fight! Ormand would want you to fight it, love,” she came to his side, touching one of his trembling fists. “Arielle, Arista, Ronan and Kenn…They want to see their father. They miss you, beloved. You must fight this beast inside, and see them again. I wish to see you again.” 

Words of love and a gentle touch made the beast fight harder, but you saw the cloudiness in his eyes slowly fading away. A healthy pink complexion came back as the stone’s light started absorbing the dark sickness. 

“Tytos,” she called to him, “Tytos, please. Come back to me. Come back.”

His fidgeting softened as the last few wisps of the possession left him. Face full of color and eyes clear as day, the king groaned and gasped at the very last trickle. He stared around the room at everyone, confusion furrowing his thick eyebrows. You saw the question sitting on his tongue, but he did not say it out loud. It was when he looked upon his wife that a bit of clarity came to him. He touched her warm cheek with a pruned finger, and gazed over her soft, round features. 

“I know your face…” he said in a raspy voice, hoarse and thin. “I know you…”

“It’s me, Tytos. It’s your Calypso.” 

“Calypso,” he breathed out her name, and tears trickled down his temples. “Oh, my precious pearl…Where-Where am I?” he gazed around the room again, “Who are all these people?” 

“Your Majesty,” Yejin bowed, as did the other two, “There is much for us to explain, but it is best you rest-”

“-What happened to me?” he asked, a bit of fear in his voice. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the royal palace,” Yejin answered, “Your ancestral home of Hydrus. You were possessed, Your Majesty. Mizu and a sea demon manipulated your mind, and you were near death before we arrived.”

Tytos looked at her with confusion, then turned to his wife, “Who is Mizu? Wha-What is she talking about?”

“I think you all should go,” Yejin said to the rest of you. “His Majesty needs time and rest.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, my lady.” 

“Yes, Mama.”

Everyone aside from Yejin moved into the next room. You felt empty, as you always did after bounties like this. Plopping down on one of the couches, elbows went onto knees as you covered your face with your hands. Alcina was not the first exile you’d killed, and likely wouldn’t be the last. Yet, truly murdering one of your own left you with a melancholy feeling that didn’t wash off quickly enough. The adrenaline and fire that coursed through you refused to settle down; you rubbed your eyes until you saw blotches of darkness and took a deep breath. The others began discussing the next move: calling the advisors, informing the public of what transpired, and someone collecting the dead leviathan underneath the palace. 

You needed a drink and a pretty boy to make you feel something again. 

“Hey, Snake Slayer,” a voice pulled you from your thoughts, “Still burning inside?”

Hyunjin sat beside you, looking more beautiful than ever even with his injuries. The wounds given to him seemed to heal faster than they might on normal human skin, but the cuts remained visible to you. They looked strangely lovely on him. It added more charm to what he already had. 

“It’ll die down eventually,” you breathed. 

‘You’d betray your own kind, Multak? We are made of the same fire and stone. You’d kill your brothers and sisters based on foolish vows. You’d slay your own people in defense of those who’d rather kill you than respect you.’

You blocked out Nor’goth’s voice once more. 

“I can imagine that hadn’t been easy to do,” Hyunjin said. When you gave him a quizzical look, he continued, “Having to kill someone you might’ve seen as one of your own once. Alright, so she was exiled after the war and therefore not really a demon anymore, but killing still isn’t pleasant.”

“But it's necessary sometimes,” you admitted. “If I hadn't killed her, she would've found a new person to control somewhere else.” 

Hyunjin slipped his hand over yours, and said softly, “Still, it's not enjoyable.”

Hyunjin then hummed the same song he'd sung in the pit. It soothed you enough to turn when the door opened. Yejin and Calypso stood together, grinning softly at the group. 

“How is he, Yejin?” Minho asked her first. 

“It will be a slow process,” she said, “But with proper treatment and time, he will recover. I believe we came just in time; if we'd delayed any longer, Tytos wouldn't be with us right now.”

“I wanted to thank you,” Calypso sniffled, “For saving my husband.”

“It's what we do, Your Majesty,” Chan bowed his head. “What will you do about Mizu? Tytos isn't well enough to be sentencing anyone at the moment.”

“That will be up to the advisors and myself,” she said, “Since Ronan is only seventeen, he isn't of age to take his father's place. But, I assure you that Mizu will be dealt with to the fullest extent.”

“He was connected to crimes on the mainland, Your Majesty,” Chan intervened. “He commanded the pirates to poach merfolk for their scales and tails. They washed up on our shores which means he crossed jurisdictions.”

“You're free to attend his trial, Sheriff,” Calypso told him. “Mizu will answer for any and all crimes he committed.” She gave a playful smirk, “And so is your demon companion or has Alcina already been sentenced where you're from?”

“I killed her, Your Majesty,” she turned to her. “Demons can only die by dragon fire. That's what my sword is made from. But, my sword works just as well on traitors of all races.”

“We have our own executioner, Multak,” Yejin said, and this name caught Calypso's ear. 

“This is Multak?”

You stood up, “Yes, Your Majesty.” You already sensed where this was going. 

“Yejin, you weren't lying,” Calypso said to her, yet kept her eyes on you. “She truly is a hero.”

“I wasn't the only one there,” you said immediately. “Minho is the best with magic, and if Hyunjin, Hannah, and Yejin hadn't distracted the leviathan, I would've been its dinner. Chan helped me take the thing down too.”

“And modest,” Calypso said. “Once again, thank you. You all have saved my kingdom and my family. We would have been lost without your help.” When you all bowed to her, she continued, “Forgive me, but I must go inform the advisors of what has happened. We need to discuss our next step as soon as possible. Yejin, I trust you'll be there.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Calypso left the room, and Yejin turned to Chan. She stood there a few seconds, taking him in and he began speaking before she interrupted him. 

“Oh, my baby boy!” she rushed at him, embracing him tightly.

“Ma!” 

“My precious pearl, oh!” She started smothering him in kisses, which Chan tried pulling away from. “Oh, you scared me half to death when you fought that thing! I thought being a small town sheriff wouldn't be so dangerous! Oh, Channie!” She saw Hannah a foot away, and pulled her in too, “And my sweet angelfish! Hannah, you could've gotten killed getting near that thing! I told you to stay in the shop!”

“Ma! Ma, you can let go now!” Chan squeaked as she hugged him tighter. “Mama!”

Minho and you exchanged amused glances, then he tackled you and Hyunjin. “Oh, YN! Our little lava rock, you're so brave!”

You laughed, hugging him back, “That leviathan was so dangerous! It could've eaten you! Hyunjin, being a whale navigator shouldn't be so dangerous! You could've died!” 

“Oh, Minho, you're so smart and strong for using that rock! Such a smart man, you are!” 

The three of you laughed in the face of Chan and Hannah’s red cheeks. Finally breaking apart, Yejin addressed the group. It will take several weeks to fully restore the kingdom and arrange a trial for Mizu. In the meantime, you all could go home and get prepared for Founder’s Day. Chan and Minho started planning the moment everyone dispersed; Hannah went with her mother to see the advisors and Calypso. This left you alone with the prettiest face you ever did see. 

“And then there were two,” Hyunjin said, that familiar glint in his eyes. 

“And then there were two,” you agreed, unable to look at anyone but him. 

When he swam to you, his tail waved behind him and you saw how it shimmered in the light. Hyunjin said nothing as he pressed his lips to yours; his hands slid up to your neck, holding you there to easily open your mouth with his own. The strange sensation of kissing underwater came back to you the longer you kissed, your breath coming through gills instead of your nose. This only made it easier to kiss Hyunjin longer. Your hands wrapped around his slim torso and brought him closer. His smooth scales allowed your fingers to slide further up his back and keep him closer to you. Every soft hum Hyunjin gave broke your barriers, washing away pain and memory.

“Come with me,” Hyunjin breathed, his forehead pressed to yours and eyes still closed. 

“Anywhere.”

Hyunjin did not hesitate to take you from the front room down the hall. Nobody stopped you as he brought you into a room that might have once been a conservatory. Some glass panes still held up, but others became covered by coral reefs and plant life wrapped around them. A kelp forest covered the high ceiling, while more plants stayed growing out of the cracks on the floor and blossoming from the walls. Being on a higher level of the palace, in the daytime it must get much more light than the rest. Yet now, you only saw blackness with flickers of moonlight from above. The fish lanterns made Hyunjin glow like candlelight, and you brought him into your embrace right away. 

On a bench underneath colorful purple coral and white plumed anemones, Hyunjin pressed you down and settled between your thighs. Excitement burned in your loins once his tail brushed your core, matching the hands slipping underneath your bra. All the adrenaline from the bounty turned from anxiousness into hunger; the kind of hunger that started slow in the gut and gradually pushed further down. Sliding your bra above your breasts, you let out a soft moan as full lips latched to your nipple. You kept your hands on the back of his head and neck, letting them get entangled in his black strands. You whimpered softly watching him cup and kiss your breasts, slashing his tongue over each one while he grinded into you. You heard sex with merfolk was an interesting experience, and you’d dive straight into it. 

The heat rose between you once his hand touched your core. Long fingers massaged the throbbing center in languid circles through layers of underwear and pants. You wished you’d worn even less clothing. It only served to get in your way. Hyunjin’s lips found yours again as he removed those layers, letting your pants float away while he pushed your panties aside. 

“Hyunjin…” you breathed his name, eyes falling closed as his fingers danced around your aching clit. 

“Just relax,” he moaned against your neck, “Let me take care of you.”

“Not your first mainlander, huh?” you joked, which was then cut off by a thumb running over your clit. 

“Of course not.” 

You both shared a laugh, and soon enough he slipped a digit inside you. His soft panting became a sound you embedded in your ear drums; his hard body and long limbs would be mapped out in your memory forever. Hyunjin’s touch stoked fires inside you that rarely saw ignition. You rocked yourself needily into his hand, gripping his shoulders and whining in his ear. A hardness pressed against your inner thigh, and you discovered exactly where it came from. Pushing up on it, Hyunjin grunted into your mouth when he brought you into another kiss. 

His cock was like nothing you’d felt before. From how it stretched you nicely, filling you to the brim, he would’ve split a normal woman in two. One arm wrapped around his neck, and the other around his waist, you and Hyunjin met in the middle in every thrust. The obvious bumps underneath his length added extra pleasure and the thin tip tickled against your g-spot each time. When he rolled you around, much easier in the water, you let yourself be impaled by his long length. Hands on his chest, you bounced up and down on him while he bit his lower lip to suppress his whimpers. His tip pushing right into your core, his thumb circling your clit, your body started trembling on top of him. Your fingers, sharp and black, made triangular marks on the soft parts of Hyunjin’s chest, drawing snips of blood. The need fueled your movements. 

Were you above the surface, your orgasm would’ve been heard. Yet, in this secluded greenhouse, only Hyunjin saw you quake and stiffen as you came. Hyunjin’s moans drew you into him, a song as sweet and tempting as he was. The pleasure coursing through your body replaced the adrenaline high, spilling euphoria into you like a drug. As Hyunjin reached his orgasm, his cock started vibrating deep inside you. You almost heard it humming, and it had you rutting against him like an animal. Putting one of his hands on your breast, Hyunjin squeezed it as you rode out your orgasm with him. A specific type of heat spurted over your walls, with its stickiness distinct from the water around you. Hyunjin’s body arched in his climax, moans calling up into the ceiling as he came. Rather than push faster, it paralyzed him so he only came to your clenching walls milking him. 

Collapsing onto Hyunjin, you both took several slow breaths through your abdomens. Pure relief glowed around you, and you felt a sense of triumph at this newest venture. 

“So?” Hyunjin sneered. 

“Let’s just say, I’ll face another leviathan if it means I get to have you again.”

Snickering, the two of you kissed again and embraced underneath the forest of green kelp and coral. 

*****

You met Chan and Minho back on Jack’s boat a little while later. Refreshed and energized by your romp with Hyunjin, you gave them a satisfied smile. However, their faces fell and jaws dropped when they saw you. 

“What?” you asked, taking a towel from nearby and starting to dry yourself off. Thoughts of Hyunjin’s sweet lips stayed implanted in your mind. 

“Where in the blessed light are your pants?” Minho asked in disbelief. 

“Hm, somewhere off at sea, I imagine,” you snickered. Doing your best to dry off your hair, you looked to see them both still staring. “Maybe a fish has already made them his home.”

“You fucked my cousin, didn’t you?” Chan asked, hands on hips. In all fairness, his tank top stuck to him like a second skin; the water made it nearly see-through. Once again, you forced yourself to look at him directly. 

“Psh, since you asked,” you snorted, “Yeah, I did. I think I deserved a little something extra after nearly getting eaten by a sea snake.” 

Chan did not appear judgemental like most men who heard you speak that way. He kept his eyes focused on you in the same flustered way you did to him. Briefly, you wondered how warm Chan might feel compared to his cold-blooded cousin. 

“Damn demons,” Minho chuckled, shaking his head and going to start the boat. 

As it took off, you let the ocean breeze dry off most of your body. You felt Chan’s eyes still on you from afar. He didn’t like hearing about you and Hyunjin, and you attributed that to them being related. Perhaps Chan suspected you would, just not so soon. You hadn’t expected it either, but you aren’t regretful. But, something about his soft eyes turning stone and sad bothered you. 

“It’s not like we’re in love,” you heard yourself say to him as the boat reached the docks of Levanter Bay. “It was a one time thing. It’s kind of like doing it after a run or a fight. It happened and it’s over.” 

“Um…okay?” Chan said, confused by your outburst. 

“I’m just saying it didn’t mean anything to me or him.”

“Which is fine.”

“Yeah…” 

You nodded and then turned away from him. You were the first to step off the boat when Minho docked at Levanter. Due to it being well past midnight, you didn’t see a soul when you stood on the wooden dock. Minho and you started forward towards town while Chan took a right. 

“See y’all tomorrow,” he said wearily. 

“See you, Chan,” Minho nodded, going ahead of you. 

“Night.” 

You watched him head eastward from the docks, and guessed that the sheriff of Levanter didn’t live in his station house. When you and Minho reached town, he then said:

“Well done, demon. You’ve saved another city from ultimate ruin.”

“It’s starting to become my brand,” you chortled. 

“That and leaving a string of admirers in your wake,” he gave you a sideways glance. 

“Oh hush,” you pushed him gently, laughing. 

“You should’ve heard Eric Nam talking about you when you left,” he chuckled. “He didn’t know whether to be horny or scared.” 

“Oh please,” you scoffed. 

“Minho! Thank the Light you’re okay!”

Han bursted out of the station, a relieved smile on his face as he jumped into Minho’s embrace. You watched the two friends relish in each other’s arms before turning around. You reached the inn, which remained dark and quiet so far into the night. Changbin and Wooyoung are likely fast asleep by now. On the banisters and railings you saw the blue and gold streamers of Founder’s Day decorations. All around the town, you saw similar tidings in flower garlands over doors and flags hanging out of windows. They’d already set up Felix’s outdoor stage, and the various areas for the different in-town competitions. You even saw Seungmin’s family had placed a special one-day sale sign at the door. Founder’s Day might only be three days away, but everyone prepared like it’d be tomorrow. You heard a horse’s hooves ride off as you entered the inn, prepared for a long sleep. 

*****

“Can’t take my charm, can’t take my humor. Can’t take my wealth, ‘cause it’s just a rumor…”

Felix and his band carried through the market square as you stepped out into the warm morning air. Three days have passed since the events in Hydrus, but you still felt a twinge of soreness straining your arms. You definitely knew you couldn’t shake the smell of the sea or the taste of Hyunjin’s lips. A trip back to the underwater kingdom came to you, then you realized how that might look to others. It’s always saddest when a pretty face can’t be revisited. The faint scent of food made your stomach growl, and before you could move from the steps, someone came your way. 

“You just gettin’ up, young lady?” Mrs. Young huffed, coming to you with a small pie plate. “Just like y’all young folk to be sleeping the day away, especially on the important ones.”

“It’s only noon.”

“And you missed the opening ceremonies and the hoop-race, so you best be happy with yourself,” she handed you the pie. “Here, eat this. It’ll fill that belly of yours.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” 

She huffed again, then continued walking towards a nearby vegetable stand. You didn’t hesitate to dig into the chicken pot pie, the gravy hot on your tongue and chicken savory and delicious. It certainly filled the emptiness in your stomach. Staring around, you watched the children playing with sticks and hoops, and others playing with a ball. Dr. Yang Jeongin stood in a hanbok of pale blue and gold making flower crowns out of thin air for people to wear. Seungmin stood outside his family’s mercantile, handing out popcorn and candy bags. Honey contently sat nearby, relishing in the pats and scratches children and adults gave her. Changbin and Wooyoung served drinks nearby, everything from their best ale to water. 

“Afternoon, Honey,” you smiled through a mouth full of flaky crust. The bear gruffed, then put her head up against the small werewolf petting her side. 

“Look who just woke up,” Changbin beamed. He caught sight of the pie plate, “Mrs. Young found you, huh?”

“And scolded me for daring to sleep past six in the morning,” you said. You took the ale he passed you with an appreciative nod, and used it to wash down the pie.

“I heard you and our sheriff saved an underwater kingdom from being taken over by a crazy sea witch a few days ago,” Wooyoung said from behind him, putting out fresh bread rolls to go with the drinks. “Is there anything you can’t do, YN?”

“Open heart surgery,” you snickered, polishing off the rest of the pie. “It was only a job.”

“A job that helped a whole bunch of people,” he said. “I know if I ever get into a bind, I’m calling you.”

You laughed, “If you have the gold for it.”

“Will you settle for cinnamon bread?” he pouted, holding a basket of the soft sweet bread in front of you. “I’m good for it, I swear.” 

“Hm,” you took one of the breads, biting into the softness to taste the cinnamon and glaze on top. Nodding thoughtfully, you said, “I suppose a deal can be struck.” 

You gave him a wink and walked away. You saw Minho and Han underneath a nearby tree.. While Han still wore his deputy uniform, Minho changed into a gold and green jacket tied at his chest with pants that bunched around his ankles. Hanbok, the traditional attire of faefolk. He grinned when you approached. 

“Where’s your badge, Deputy?” you joked, nudging him. 

“At home. I’m just Minho today. Also,” he glanced at Jeongin, “Certain fae around here have been noting my ‘human attire’ lately.”

You smirked, “I didn’t think Dr. Yang bothered you.” 

“He doesn’t,” he straightened up. “Besides, this is way more comfortable for my wings.”

“Alright, sure, Deputy.” 

“Are you joining the archery contest, YN?” asked Han, munching on nuts and berries from a small pouch. “Or the wrestling match?”

“Nah,” you shook your head. “Not really for me. I was thinking about the pie tasting though. Mostly because the pies look insanely delicious.”

“They are!” he nodded, “Mr. Yoon makes a mean pecan pie. It’s one of my favorites.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” 

The three of you discussed the pie entries while the town enjoyed their special day. It made you reflect about Hydrus, which was minutes away from ruin before you arrived. Jinyoung might have burned Levanter Bay to the ground if you and your friends had not stood in his way. The image of a burning Levanter bothered you. You admitted the little town started growing on you. 

You sort of liked the place. 

***

A/N: aaand that is it for episode 2 of The Drifter! I hope you guys enjoyed this newest one, and stick around for the other episodes still to come <3 Thanks so much for reading, and feel free to like and reblog <3