(no subject)
gooey | r | ~10k | nhyuk
THIS HAS BEEN THE BEST WEEK OF MY LIFE. I LOVE THIS VERSE. PLEASE EXPECT MORE.
His power is waning, and he’s getting desperate. Sanghyuk, weighed down by the troubles only those who’ve recently escaped from the fae court of the highest power can understand, trudges through the light snow that covers the ground of this neutral forest, looking out for any evil forces that might be watching him from behind the shadow of the trees. He’s never been out to the Unfeeling Forest before, and throughout his childhood he found warning in tales from his mother and older sisters and nursemaid -- that places such as these, under protection of neither court, are filled with lurking dangers, fae without alliances, magic without bounds. The most powerful charmers and illusionists live all the way out here, posing a danger that he doesn’t yet know.
His power is waning, and he sorely misses the comforts of home. He misses the servants that were there to rub his back, to massage his aching hands, to comb his hair and pin it back with bright-red autumn leaves and pinecones and berries. He misses the feasts that took place every night, misses the vaguely bitter taste of late-summer, early-autumn wine, misses his mother’s laugh and his sisters’ smiles. He misses his nursemaid calling him spoiled, even though she was wrong. He even misses his father’s stern brown, laid heavy over his fine features, wrought with disapproval and knit together with concern for his son and his libertine ways.
His wings are heavy with ice, and he’s growing weaker with every step, but he can’t turn back now, no matter how afraid he is.
It would kill him to go back to that castle in the trees, and he knows in whatever soul he might have that he doesn’t want to return to the court life. Yet in the very same breath, he’s not certain in his ability to survive the winter alone. His family would take care of him, the Royal Family of Seelie, but they would place on him the restrictions that only a family could expect of their child: For him to take vows, bind himself forever to the Prince of the Unseelie Court, if only for the sake of a temporary alliance that won’t last a hundred years.
His life is his own, and he will not let it be a pawn in some political game that he won’t inherit the right to play for another few centuries.
In the back of his mind, he hears his father’s voice, chiding him for being so selfish. “It’s for the good of all the fae in this court,” he imagines his father saying -- not that it’s much of a stretch; his father had said almost as much before, during the meetings they’d had in the few years before he’d decided to leave.
He walks slowly forth with his eyes turned skyward, and blinks back the thin flakes of snow that start to fall from the vast, deep blue smattered with thick but sparse clouds overhead. They coat his eyelashes, long and curved against the high bone of his cheek, and stick to his wings. He almost considers a meager attempt at a glamour just so they don’t feel quite as heavy anymore.
He continues walking, for what feels like forever. He can feel eyes on him, but can’t tell from where, doesn’t want to look around for them, has no desire to know what’s watching him or whether or not said being considers him prey. The cold overwhelms him, threatens to take him to his knees in the softly-piling snow that gathers at his bare feet. He sorely wishes he’d thought to bring shoes in his hasty flight from home, as if the silken garments would have kept him very warm in this situation.
When it gets to be too much -- the stress of missing home and the exhaustion that wracks his body to its very core -- he collapses in the earth, feeling the dirt begin to cake in his knees, wet and freezing and raw.
He sleeps, despite the instinct in him that tells him not to. It takes him quickly, and he is grateful in his last waking moments for a swift death.
---
When Sanghyuk awakens, it is to firelight that dances before his eyes, and to warmth that reaches his core but not his extremities, which tingle with the leftover memory of the cold. His fingers tingle and he can swear there’s only a vague sensation of them actually being there as opposed to figments of his imagination, but then --
Ah. There is definitely a second pair of hands trying to keep him warm, along with a muttering that is sounded by a voice he’s never heard before. “Please warm up, I’d hate to be responsible for your death out here in the wild, please please please warm up.” The voice is kindly, although on edge; he thinks it almost sounds a little familiar, in the sense that one recognises voices from dreams on occasion.
The hands leave him, and Sanghyuk wants to beg them to stay; though they’re not doing much in the way of helping, the contact with another being, however brief, brings him a quick reminder of home. Sanghyuk groans, and the voice’s muttering stops immediately. “You’re awake.” And the voice sounds relieved.
For the first time since coming here Sanghyuk opens his eyes, and is surprised to be met with any source of light. He glances quickly at his surroundings, taking them in, and is even more shocked when he realises that he and his rescuer are surrounded by stone. “I’m sorry it’s so cold,” says the voice, and Sanghyuk turns his attentions to its source -- a short, thin…
Faerie.
Sanghyuk curls in on himself defensively, one arm wrapped around his knees, the other held out with an illusion of magic ready at his palm. “Are you one of the neutrals?” he demands harshly, upper lip stiff, shaking and this time not from the cold.
“The neutrals?” And the rescuer laughs, his eyes curving upwards into tiny crescents. His smile is bright, broad, something in which Sanghyuk can again take comfort, however shortly. “No, no, that’s not me. I just happen to live here.” The rescuer stands up, fitting into the tiny cave perfectly -- Sanghyuk already loathes the idea of standing in here, knows he’ll smack his head multiple times just out of force of habit -- and bows his head. “I’m Hakyeon, I’m the faerie that saved you from something trying to eat you alive.”
“Oh. So I’m still alive.” Sanghyuk reaches up, rubs the back of his neck awkwardly; he’d been so sure that this place was death.
The other laughs again, reaching out and taking Sanghyuk’s hands between his own, thumbing tenderly over his knuckles and trying to rub some warmth into them. “You are still alive. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Maybe I wanted to be dead.”
“People who want to be dead don’t keep walking,” and here Hakyeon’s tone is serious, his eyes narrowed as he peers up at Sanghyuk along the length of his arm. “You kept going for a long time. I assumed you were looking for something until you let yourself drop like that. You’re lucky you made it. If I hadn’t stepped in when I did, you would’ve been swallowed whole by one of the monsters that occasionally wanders into the forest here.”
“Monsters?” Sanghyuk feels his eyebrows shooting up over his forehead and he frowns, disapprovingly at that. “What kind of monsters?”
“Oh, you know, great giant things that look sort of like us, but wingless, and hairier.” Hakyeon’s back to not being serious, for which Sanghyuk is grateful. “I haven’t gotten your name.”
“Sanghyuk, Prince of the Royal Court of Seelie.” It’s a habit, announcing his title, and one that makes him bite down hard at the inside of his cheek at that. He tastes sugar-sweet blood dripping onto his tongue. He also has to pretend he doesn’t see Hakyeon’s face light up -- Sanghyuk knows there’s always someone questing for power, even in places where power doesn’t matter. “I don’t suppose I’m in a place that has any respect for either court.”
“Is that what you meant by neutrals? Then yes, I guess we’re in one of those places.” Hakyeon looks wistful, for some reason. “This place doesn’t care what court you come from or who you represent. It certainly doesn’t give half a care as to whether or not you’re the Royal Prince.” And here Hakyeon stands, the top of his head grazing the roof of the cave. “I’m going out to find something to eat. You stay here, sleep. You’re probably still exhausted from all the adventure.” And Hakyeon leaves, a certain sway to his hips that somehow reads like disappointment.
Sanghyuk has a dozen questions to ask him, but no voice with which to call out, to ask him to stay. So he curls up in his blanket of woven flowers, wishes he had his layers upon layers of spun silks instead, and forces himself to go back to sleep.
As he drifts away he thinks of that kindly face, and wonders in a dream-like state what, exactly, compelled Hakyeon to risk his neck in order to save him.
---
The second time Sanghyuk awakens, Hakyeon is stirring something in a makeshift pot, and it doesn’t smell great but it does smell edible, so Sanghyuk supposes it’s what passes for food these days. He tries his best not to turn his nose up at the scent of it as it fills their little cave. “You’re awake,” Hakyeon breathes as he turns around, all smiles, all fake, completely different from the fae that had left just a few hours prior. “That’s good. I was afraid the second time would do you in.”
“You were afraid, or you were hoping?” Sanghyuk mumbles, pressing his palms to his eyes and rubbing at them hard. “What are you cooking?”
“Leftover dandelion greens from a friend’s summertime stash,” Hakyeon says, obviously contented with his own efforts at food. For Sanghyuk’s part, he pretends to be attracted to the food Hakyeon is cooking, when in reality he misses his roasts and his cakes and his bittersweet autumn wine. “There’s all kinds of pine nuts in it too, in case you’re interested.” There’s something in Hakyeon’s tone that lets Sanghyuk know that they’re both aware as to just how not-interested Sanghyuk is.
Then Sanghyuk’s stomach makes the ugliest noise he thinks he’s ever heard, and he blushes, brow knitting together in displeasure with his own body. Hakyeon laughs mirthlessly, and strains two servings of stew into wooden bowls.
As they eat their meager dinner, Hakyeon apparently decides that smack in the middle of a mouthful of food is the best time to ask Sanghyuk a rather important-sounding question, albeit not quite in the form of one. “You haven’t told me yet. What are you doing out here, Royal Prince of the Seelie Court?”
Sanghyuk nearly chokes on a stewed dandelion stem, which, by the by, is delicious, not that he’d ever admit it to either himself or Hakyeon. When he’s coughed his way through the food, he frowns. “What does it matter to you what I’m doing out here?” he demands, moving on the makeshift bed and folding his legs underneath him.
“Because it’s not every day that we get to see royalty out in this neck of the woods.” Hakyeon turns slightly, facing Sanghyuk, eyeing him over the edge of a spoonful of pine nuts and broth. “You’re something of a rarity. Consider me interested.”
Suddenly Sanghyuk doesn’t feel so talkative -- as if he did before. The taste of stew lodges in his throat, prevents him from saying anything that he might regret later, and he continues eating as if nothing is wrong.
Hakyeon, of course, is uncannily cheerful about the entire affair. “It’s okay, I’ll get all your secrets out of you eventually,” he crows. Apparently he’s already wolfed down his portion and he looks like he wants to go for another, but he doesn’t, instead crawling up beside Sanghyuk in the bed -- as if the space between them weren’t small enough in this tiny cave. Too friendly by far, Hakyeon slings an arm around Sanghyuk’s shoulders, pulling him into an awkward, one-armed hug. “I’m good at getting things out of people.”
Sanghyuk groans, and continues eating.
---
Their next few days go much like the first one -- Sanghyuk sleeping off a depression that he can’t quite explain, and Hakyeon trying to talk only to be met with silence. Certainly, Sanghyuk is cordial when need be, and never rebuffs Hakyeon in a rude way (though he certainly wants to), but instead ignores his hundreds of ridiculous question.
“What’s being a prince like?”
Silence.
“What kind of magic do you know how to do?”
Silence.
“Since you hate my cooking so much, what are you used to eating?”
Silence.
“What was your court like?”
Silence, though Sanghyuk finds himself questioning the phrasing of the question. He almost answers that one.
“Do you really have a reason for running away, or do you just want to stick it to someone?”
“What is that supposed to mean,” Sanghyuk deadpans, brow set low over his eyes, trying not to be angry. “Of course I have a reason.”
Hakyeon smiles, and his face is illuminated in an eerie manner from the firelight shining in the corner. “Then what is it?”
Silence, again.
Hakyeon, bless him, is not deterred by the stone face Sanghyuk gives him. It’s almost inspiring, Sanghyuk thinks as he rattles on about how he’s been living out here for five years, how he used to have a lot of friends in high places before he ended up coming out here, how he’s learned a ton of new magic from the fae that live in the area, how he used to be terrible at starting fires and making illusion charms to deter predators but now he’s quite well-practiced at it.
Finally Sanghyuk has to ask: “Do you have to fill every silence with noise?”
Hakyeon practically wilts under the question, and for once he is thrown off by the idea that maybe he’s talking too much, because he stops talking altogether.
Privately, Sanghyuk kind of misses the sound of Hakyeon’s voice filling the awkward spaces between them, but he does nothing to bring them back.
---
After a few more days of the silent treatment, Sanghyuk decides he can’t take it anymore, and ventures out of the cave, only to be met by a host of other creatures, some of which he recognises, most of which he couldn’t tell from anything else. There are flowers that speak to him in creepy whispers, a tree that mumbles in a language that Sanghyuk can’t understand, and a large number of fae, none of whom seem particularly impressed by Sanghyuk’s royal status when he accidentally tells them of it in conversation. They offer to teach him things, and he declines each offer, making mental note to ask Hakyeon later if he knows about them, if Sanghyuk can really learn from them.
An unfriendly faerie approaches, looking as if he’s dying of the cold, and Sanghyuk feels that tingle in the base of his spine that tells him that this stranger is a potential ally, one of the same kind as he. “Who goes there?” he demands, halting in place, holding up his hands as if to attack even though he’s so weak out here that he couldn’t hurt anyone even if he tried.
“What does it matter to you,” and the voice is soft, reminiscent of something that could float away in a gust of wind. “I’m just looking for my…” And here he’s obviously struggling with words, but settles on ‘friend’ to finish off the sentence. “Have you seen him?” The fae’s wings struggle to flit about, and Sanghyuk eyes the appendages with concern.
“No, I don’t know who you’re--” Oh, right. Hakyeon. Probably. “...He’s back at our cave. I assume you know where that is?”
“I don’t,” says the wispy voice, and the faerie peeks out from under long hair at Sanghyuk, watching him intently, lips parted. “Please show me the way.”
Sanghyuk, assuming only the best, leads this fae in the direction of the cave, but doesn’t go all the way inside -- after all, he isn’t quite done venturing, and has many more things he’d like to explore. Still, he points the fae in the direction of the open mouth of the cave, which appears to be dark from the outside but is actually lit up inside. He explains all this to the stranger, who grins in a way that makes Sanghyuk uncomfortable for reasons he cannot quite explain. In fact, it’s enough to make him want to accompany this individual to the opening in the cave, so he does, guiding him inside.
Oh, if only he’d been paying attention when Hakyeon had been prattling on before.
The first thing that happens when Sanghyuk and the stranger enter the cave is that Hakyeon bristles visibly, his palms go up, twinkling with offensive magic that burns bright orange as if an ember were powering it. The stranger laughs quietly, and puts up a shield that contains both him and Sanghyuk inside. “You’re not going to hurt me,” says the stranger. “I’ll take care of your precious prince if you do.”
“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon growls, visibly trying to figure out this conundrum.
Sanghyuk doesn’t know much, but he knows now that he’s made a terrible mistake, bringing this stranger -- Taekwoon -- here. He pins the larger fae to the wall, and reaches for the knife he usually carried strapped to his thigh, just out of habit. Of course, it’s not there, and Sanghyuk is forced to curse Hakyeon, if silently, for stripping him of his weapon.
So he binds Taekwoon to the wall instead, and yes, his magic is weak, but it’s enough to fell the shield binding him to Taekwoon. This lets him cross the short distance between himself and Hakyeon, pushing past the elder fae to grab up his knife. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles as he moves, then marches right back across the cave to press the blade of his weapon to Taekwoon’s throat.
“You have made a mistake, tricking me into bringing you here,” Sanghyuk breathes in a low voice, eyes narrowing, resisting the urge to cut the pale flesh under his blade. “You will leave, and you will tell no one what you have seen here, and you will keep to yourself from now on.”
Taekwoon laughs without humour, his weight beginning to collapse under the strain of his magical bonds. “I don’t know who taught you that there are rules out here, but there aren’t,” he says softly. Then the fae falls to the floor, clambers out of the cave, letting his wings carry him the ways in which his feet cannot.
When Sanghyuk turns back to Hakyeon, he can’t help himself -- he puts on a sheepish grin, scratches the back of his neck. “Oops?”
“Oops,” Hakyeon mutters, eyes trained willfully on Sanghyuk’s face. “You’re joking, right? Oops? That’s all you’ve got? That’s one of the things that’s been trying to kill me since I got here years ago, and I just now within the last year figured out how to get away from him, and you led him right to where I’ve set up shop, and all you have to say is oops.” His tone switches from vague disbelief to unbridled rage so quickly that Sanghyuk isn’t certain he isn’t imagining it.
“I didn’t know! You’re friendly with so many people out here, how was I supposed to figure out that you weren’t with that one?” Sanghyuk is yelling now, even though he doesn’t mean to be; his face is coloured bright crimson and there are tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. “It’s your fault for being friends with strangers, your fault for trying to guard a stupid cave, your fault for even being out here in the first place!”
Hakyeon shrinks back, his face wrinkled up, and he looks about as ready to cry as Sanghyuk feels. They both breathe heavily, the sounds of shallow inhales and heavy exhales filling the silence between them. Sanghyuk thinks he prefers Hakyeon running his mouth to this tense quiet.
“You’re right,” Hakyeon says in the voice of a broken man. “You’re absolutely right. Maybe I should leave.” So he does, gathering up a cloak hanging in the corner, woven with fresh pine needles and leaves, and wraps himself up inside it. Then he storms out, and for some reason, Sanghyuk is compelled to run out after him. Maybe it’s the imminent threat of death out there waiting for the spring faerie, the knowledge Sanghyuk now has of Hakyeon’s enemies. Maybe it’s something more, something protective -- he had, after all, been raised to believe that some things in life are worth protecting.
He doesn’t go out, though, instead curling in the bed and filling himself with thoughts about what a fool he’s been, thinking he could survive out here in the neutral zone, so far from home that no one he knows and loves can find him.
---
Later that evening, after much time has passed and the sunset colours the light streaming into the cave an autumnal shade of gold, Sanghyuk is only half-asleep, but he swears he could dream the sound that bounces off the cave walls. Hakyeon has returned; he flings off his cloak and hangs it in its normal spot before flopping down in the tiny bed alongside Sanghyuk.
There’s no way he knows Sanghyuk is awake, so the younger pretends to snore, and Hakyeon begins speaking quietly.
“I used to be a member of the Unseelie Court,” he murmurs, so low that Sanghyuk isn’t sure he’s not imagining the sound. “No one particularly important, just someone who had to go to balls every so often, raise toasts to the king at feast, kiss up to those who thought they were playing a crucial part of a fool’s game. And I had a lover, and that lover was the prince.”
The prince? Sanghyuk swallows so loud that it causes Hakyeon to pause. The prince to whom Sanghyuk had been betrothed, albeit for political reasons, had taken a lover before him? Now he’s privately glad he didn’t take that proposal the way his parents had so wanted him to.
“I cared deeply for him. Maybe even loved him a little more than I should have. And one evening, drunk on summer wine, I curled around him, stroked his hair and told him as much. He was already asleep, of course, and I don’t know that he heard me, but the very next day I was dragged from a lunch engagement I had with one of the royal princesses, held in contempt of the Unseelie Court, branded a traitor for sleeping with their beloved prince. My punishment was that of being banned from the court, and ever since then I have lived out here.
“Maybe you’re right, Sanghyuk, Royal Prince of the Seelie Court. Maybe it’s my fault for living out here.” And here Hakyeon’s breath brushes the pointed shell of Sanghyuk’s ear, and he smells vaguely of wine, and his voice ekes of a sadness that Sanghyuk can neither understand nor explain. “Maybe it’s my fault for loving Jaehwan so much. But the fact of the matter is that no matter what I did in order to deserve this fate? I don’t regret it, not one bit.”
Sanghyuk wants to turn around in the hold Hakyeon has on him, wants to press his lips comfortingly to the elder’s forehead, wants to tell him that he’s sorry, that he won’t bring anyone around anymore and that he’ll constantly be on his guard looking out for people that look to harm their current life together. But instead, he pretends to sleep, and eventually, Hakyeon drifts off as well.
---
Their next few weeks go along quietly, Hakyeon going back to normal as if Sanghyuk has apologised and nothing awful has transpired between the two of them. He also doesn’t acknowledge the drunken confession he made, operating on the assumption that Sanghyuk hasn’t heard any of it. Sanghyuk doesn’t know how much of the rattling coming from Hakyeon he can take, not when the elder’s face is filled with so much sadness he looks like he’s going to burst into tears at any minute.
He wants to apologise, but he doesn’t know how.
When the nights are long and Sanghyuk can’t sleep, he practises his fire spells until he can melt through ice. He doesn’t know what good it’s going to do him unless he leaves, and one day he knows what his apology has to be.
So when things are cold, too cold for Sanghyuk to see the world beyond the cloud of steam that envelops him, and he can barely move beyond the sluggish movements of dragging himself around the cave, Sanghyuk goes out and gathers things for them to eat. He digs under snow, melts it with fire, tries his best to be the true practitioner of magic he knows himself to be. When he has an armful of frozen greens and various nuts that absolutely were not stolen from various woodland creatures -- squirrels, chipmunks and the like -- he goes back to the cave, and wakes Hakyeon, who had just settled in for his afternoon nap.
“I brought things for dinner,” he says, unceremonious as possible.
Hakyeon breaks into a bright grin, and he looks like he’s going to launch himself into a hug, but Sanghyuk stands back, nodding down at the armload of food he carries in his arms.
So he settles on an encouraging nod himself, and curls back up. Sanghyuk dumps all the ingredients for their dinner into the large pot, then crawls into bed, his arms wrapped around Hakyeon’s back, pulling him into a hug.
For warmth, of course. No other reason.
---
They kiss for the first time completely by accident, at least in Sanghyuk’s estimation. They’re sitting up late one night, Hakyeon staying up to maintain the new illusion charms he’s draped over the cave’s entrance, Sanghyuk merely to keep the other company, and talking about things that don’t matter, a real conversation despite Sanghyuk’s need to keep the most private portions of himself hidden away. “You never did tell me why you ran away,” Hakyeon is saying, one eyebrow raised, his hand on Sanghyuk’s shoulder, shaking him gently.
“I ran away because…” And he doesn’t know how to say it, because he knows that it will probably hurt Hakyeon to hear that Sanghyuk was set to wed his beloved Prince Jaehwan, and despite his urges to the contrary, he doesn’t want to hurt Hakyeon, not really. So he does what anyone would do: uses his fae tricks, spins a tale. “I was meant to marry some girl, some member of the Unseelie Court. And I didn’t want to, so I came here, where my family can’t find me, knowing they wouldn’t chase after me if I got far enough away.”
Hakyeon’s lips purse into a thin line for a long minute, and then he smiles. “That’s all? You should marry the girl, then, little one. For your family’s sake. They must love you very much if they want you to marry someone of their choosing.”
Too late into the lie, Sanghyuk remembers that there are no daughters of the royal family in the Unseelie Court, and he knows he can’t take it back, not yet. So he grimaces, puts on a face for Hakyeon’s sake. “I don’t want to marry some dumb girl,” he says softly, shaking his head. “Why would I?”
“Because it’s what an adult would do, Sanghyuk,” and Hakyeon’s tone is all chastisement, “and you are, most definitely, an adult, albeit a very, very bad one.”
Sanghyuk shakes his head. “I’m not!” he insists, scooting away from the form across the bed from him, pressing his back to the wall. “I’m not an adult, I’m just a little prince, how could you want me to marry some girl I don’t even know?”
“You haven’t met her?” Hakyeon blinks, surprised. “I thought all the members of both courts knew each other. Except the royal families, of course, and that’s because they haven’t spoken to one another about anything but war in half a century.”
Blast, he’s caught. “I-I don’t know anyone personally,” Sanghyuk refutes, flushing, sure that Hakyeon can see the change in his colour despite the dimming light of the fire being the only thing generating light between them. It’s then that he remembers the first lie between them, the one where Sanghyuk doesn’t know anything about what Hakyeon is doing out here, and grins. “You know a lot about court for someone who isn’t from there, you know.” And now they’re both trapped, though they don’t know it. Hakyeon freezes, comically so, and Sanghyuk leans forward, practically collapsing in Hakyeon’s lap, arms wound around his waist. “I was kidding, of course,” he murmurs, face pressed into the other fae’s belly. “You can know whatever you want, it doesn’t matter to me.”
“You knew this whole time?” Hakyeon demands, serious tone a sharp contrast to Sanghyuk’s playful one. Sanghyuk swallows, sits up, glances around and points at himself as if to say ‘who, me?’ Hakyeon shakes his head. “How much do you know?”
Sanghyuk sighs, looking now at anywhere but at Hakyeon’s face. “Enough to know that I’m not supposed to tell you who I was really supposed to marry.”
The expression on Hakyeon’s face changes to one of emotionless stone. “They’re going to marry him off,” he whispers, and Sanghyuk swears he hears a tinkle of glass, representative of Hakyeon’s breaking heart.
“Not now they’re not,” Sanghyuk points out, “not now that I’m not there.”
Hakyeon practically melts at the notion. “You’re right, he can’t be wed if you don’t wed him,” he declares in a decidedly jovial tone. “Now I just have to keep you here forever.”
“You’re going to keep me?!” Sanghyuk pouts, though he’s not sure if he’s more offended by the idea that Hakyeon thinks him possible to be kept, or that the idea hadn’t occurred to Hakyeon sooner. “Isn’t that interesting, a banned man keeping a royal prince by his side for the rest of eternity… or at least, eternity so long as we make it through the winter.” He’s got a catlike look about him now, eyes crinkled up into tiny crescents, a sly grin curling the corners of his mouth. “Is that what you really want, hmm?”
And Hakyeon takes Sanghyuk’s wrists in his hands, pulls the younger into his lap, wraps long legs around his own waist. “Maybe I wanted to keep you the whole time, did you ever think of that?” he purrs, a sound to match Sanghyuk’s expression. They bump foreheads, and their lips brush together, and it’s completely by accident, except for the part where Sanghyuk is pretty sure it had been planned from the start.
He’s not sure he even felt this tricked, this betrayed when the wicked fae Taekwoon had charmed him into showing him where the cave was.
They go to bed that morning entwined in one another’s arms, their brows pushed together, their legs entangled. The last thought Sanghyuk has before falling asleep is just how nice it is to have someone he cares about so close to him.
part two
THIS HAS BEEN THE BEST WEEK OF MY LIFE. I LOVE THIS VERSE. PLEASE EXPECT MORE.
His power is waning, and he’s getting desperate. Sanghyuk, weighed down by the troubles only those who’ve recently escaped from the fae court of the highest power can understand, trudges through the light snow that covers the ground of this neutral forest, looking out for any evil forces that might be watching him from behind the shadow of the trees. He’s never been out to the Unfeeling Forest before, and throughout his childhood he found warning in tales from his mother and older sisters and nursemaid -- that places such as these, under protection of neither court, are filled with lurking dangers, fae without alliances, magic without bounds. The most powerful charmers and illusionists live all the way out here, posing a danger that he doesn’t yet know.
His power is waning, and he sorely misses the comforts of home. He misses the servants that were there to rub his back, to massage his aching hands, to comb his hair and pin it back with bright-red autumn leaves and pinecones and berries. He misses the feasts that took place every night, misses the vaguely bitter taste of late-summer, early-autumn wine, misses his mother’s laugh and his sisters’ smiles. He misses his nursemaid calling him spoiled, even though she was wrong. He even misses his father’s stern brown, laid heavy over his fine features, wrought with disapproval and knit together with concern for his son and his libertine ways.
His wings are heavy with ice, and he’s growing weaker with every step, but he can’t turn back now, no matter how afraid he is.
It would kill him to go back to that castle in the trees, and he knows in whatever soul he might have that he doesn’t want to return to the court life. Yet in the very same breath, he’s not certain in his ability to survive the winter alone. His family would take care of him, the Royal Family of Seelie, but they would place on him the restrictions that only a family could expect of their child: For him to take vows, bind himself forever to the Prince of the Unseelie Court, if only for the sake of a temporary alliance that won’t last a hundred years.
His life is his own, and he will not let it be a pawn in some political game that he won’t inherit the right to play for another few centuries.
In the back of his mind, he hears his father’s voice, chiding him for being so selfish. “It’s for the good of all the fae in this court,” he imagines his father saying -- not that it’s much of a stretch; his father had said almost as much before, during the meetings they’d had in the few years before he’d decided to leave.
He walks slowly forth with his eyes turned skyward, and blinks back the thin flakes of snow that start to fall from the vast, deep blue smattered with thick but sparse clouds overhead. They coat his eyelashes, long and curved against the high bone of his cheek, and stick to his wings. He almost considers a meager attempt at a glamour just so they don’t feel quite as heavy anymore.
He continues walking, for what feels like forever. He can feel eyes on him, but can’t tell from where, doesn’t want to look around for them, has no desire to know what’s watching him or whether or not said being considers him prey. The cold overwhelms him, threatens to take him to his knees in the softly-piling snow that gathers at his bare feet. He sorely wishes he’d thought to bring shoes in his hasty flight from home, as if the silken garments would have kept him very warm in this situation.
When it gets to be too much -- the stress of missing home and the exhaustion that wracks his body to its very core -- he collapses in the earth, feeling the dirt begin to cake in his knees, wet and freezing and raw.
He sleeps, despite the instinct in him that tells him not to. It takes him quickly, and he is grateful in his last waking moments for a swift death.
---
When Sanghyuk awakens, it is to firelight that dances before his eyes, and to warmth that reaches his core but not his extremities, which tingle with the leftover memory of the cold. His fingers tingle and he can swear there’s only a vague sensation of them actually being there as opposed to figments of his imagination, but then --
Ah. There is definitely a second pair of hands trying to keep him warm, along with a muttering that is sounded by a voice he’s never heard before. “Please warm up, I’d hate to be responsible for your death out here in the wild, please please please warm up.” The voice is kindly, although on edge; he thinks it almost sounds a little familiar, in the sense that one recognises voices from dreams on occasion.
The hands leave him, and Sanghyuk wants to beg them to stay; though they’re not doing much in the way of helping, the contact with another being, however brief, brings him a quick reminder of home. Sanghyuk groans, and the voice’s muttering stops immediately. “You’re awake.” And the voice sounds relieved.
For the first time since coming here Sanghyuk opens his eyes, and is surprised to be met with any source of light. He glances quickly at his surroundings, taking them in, and is even more shocked when he realises that he and his rescuer are surrounded by stone. “I’m sorry it’s so cold,” says the voice, and Sanghyuk turns his attentions to its source -- a short, thin…
Faerie.
Sanghyuk curls in on himself defensively, one arm wrapped around his knees, the other held out with an illusion of magic ready at his palm. “Are you one of the neutrals?” he demands harshly, upper lip stiff, shaking and this time not from the cold.
“The neutrals?” And the rescuer laughs, his eyes curving upwards into tiny crescents. His smile is bright, broad, something in which Sanghyuk can again take comfort, however shortly. “No, no, that’s not me. I just happen to live here.” The rescuer stands up, fitting into the tiny cave perfectly -- Sanghyuk already loathes the idea of standing in here, knows he’ll smack his head multiple times just out of force of habit -- and bows his head. “I’m Hakyeon, I’m the faerie that saved you from something trying to eat you alive.”
“Oh. So I’m still alive.” Sanghyuk reaches up, rubs the back of his neck awkwardly; he’d been so sure that this place was death.
The other laughs again, reaching out and taking Sanghyuk’s hands between his own, thumbing tenderly over his knuckles and trying to rub some warmth into them. “You are still alive. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Maybe I wanted to be dead.”
“People who want to be dead don’t keep walking,” and here Hakyeon’s tone is serious, his eyes narrowed as he peers up at Sanghyuk along the length of his arm. “You kept going for a long time. I assumed you were looking for something until you let yourself drop like that. You’re lucky you made it. If I hadn’t stepped in when I did, you would’ve been swallowed whole by one of the monsters that occasionally wanders into the forest here.”
“Monsters?” Sanghyuk feels his eyebrows shooting up over his forehead and he frowns, disapprovingly at that. “What kind of monsters?”
“Oh, you know, great giant things that look sort of like us, but wingless, and hairier.” Hakyeon’s back to not being serious, for which Sanghyuk is grateful. “I haven’t gotten your name.”
“Sanghyuk, Prince of the Royal Court of Seelie.” It’s a habit, announcing his title, and one that makes him bite down hard at the inside of his cheek at that. He tastes sugar-sweet blood dripping onto his tongue. He also has to pretend he doesn’t see Hakyeon’s face light up -- Sanghyuk knows there’s always someone questing for power, even in places where power doesn’t matter. “I don’t suppose I’m in a place that has any respect for either court.”
“Is that what you meant by neutrals? Then yes, I guess we’re in one of those places.” Hakyeon looks wistful, for some reason. “This place doesn’t care what court you come from or who you represent. It certainly doesn’t give half a care as to whether or not you’re the Royal Prince.” And here Hakyeon stands, the top of his head grazing the roof of the cave. “I’m going out to find something to eat. You stay here, sleep. You’re probably still exhausted from all the adventure.” And Hakyeon leaves, a certain sway to his hips that somehow reads like disappointment.
Sanghyuk has a dozen questions to ask him, but no voice with which to call out, to ask him to stay. So he curls up in his blanket of woven flowers, wishes he had his layers upon layers of spun silks instead, and forces himself to go back to sleep.
As he drifts away he thinks of that kindly face, and wonders in a dream-like state what, exactly, compelled Hakyeon to risk his neck in order to save him.
---
The second time Sanghyuk awakens, Hakyeon is stirring something in a makeshift pot, and it doesn’t smell great but it does smell edible, so Sanghyuk supposes it’s what passes for food these days. He tries his best not to turn his nose up at the scent of it as it fills their little cave. “You’re awake,” Hakyeon breathes as he turns around, all smiles, all fake, completely different from the fae that had left just a few hours prior. “That’s good. I was afraid the second time would do you in.”
“You were afraid, or you were hoping?” Sanghyuk mumbles, pressing his palms to his eyes and rubbing at them hard. “What are you cooking?”
“Leftover dandelion greens from a friend’s summertime stash,” Hakyeon says, obviously contented with his own efforts at food. For Sanghyuk’s part, he pretends to be attracted to the food Hakyeon is cooking, when in reality he misses his roasts and his cakes and his bittersweet autumn wine. “There’s all kinds of pine nuts in it too, in case you’re interested.” There’s something in Hakyeon’s tone that lets Sanghyuk know that they’re both aware as to just how not-interested Sanghyuk is.
Then Sanghyuk’s stomach makes the ugliest noise he thinks he’s ever heard, and he blushes, brow knitting together in displeasure with his own body. Hakyeon laughs mirthlessly, and strains two servings of stew into wooden bowls.
As they eat their meager dinner, Hakyeon apparently decides that smack in the middle of a mouthful of food is the best time to ask Sanghyuk a rather important-sounding question, albeit not quite in the form of one. “You haven’t told me yet. What are you doing out here, Royal Prince of the Seelie Court?”
Sanghyuk nearly chokes on a stewed dandelion stem, which, by the by, is delicious, not that he’d ever admit it to either himself or Hakyeon. When he’s coughed his way through the food, he frowns. “What does it matter to you what I’m doing out here?” he demands, moving on the makeshift bed and folding his legs underneath him.
“Because it’s not every day that we get to see royalty out in this neck of the woods.” Hakyeon turns slightly, facing Sanghyuk, eyeing him over the edge of a spoonful of pine nuts and broth. “You’re something of a rarity. Consider me interested.”
Suddenly Sanghyuk doesn’t feel so talkative -- as if he did before. The taste of stew lodges in his throat, prevents him from saying anything that he might regret later, and he continues eating as if nothing is wrong.
Hakyeon, of course, is uncannily cheerful about the entire affair. “It’s okay, I’ll get all your secrets out of you eventually,” he crows. Apparently he’s already wolfed down his portion and he looks like he wants to go for another, but he doesn’t, instead crawling up beside Sanghyuk in the bed -- as if the space between them weren’t small enough in this tiny cave. Too friendly by far, Hakyeon slings an arm around Sanghyuk’s shoulders, pulling him into an awkward, one-armed hug. “I’m good at getting things out of people.”
Sanghyuk groans, and continues eating.
---
Their next few days go much like the first one -- Sanghyuk sleeping off a depression that he can’t quite explain, and Hakyeon trying to talk only to be met with silence. Certainly, Sanghyuk is cordial when need be, and never rebuffs Hakyeon in a rude way (though he certainly wants to), but instead ignores his hundreds of ridiculous question.
“What’s being a prince like?”
Silence.
“What kind of magic do you know how to do?”
Silence.
“Since you hate my cooking so much, what are you used to eating?”
Silence.
“What was your court like?”
Silence, though Sanghyuk finds himself questioning the phrasing of the question. He almost answers that one.
“Do you really have a reason for running away, or do you just want to stick it to someone?”
“What is that supposed to mean,” Sanghyuk deadpans, brow set low over his eyes, trying not to be angry. “Of course I have a reason.”
Hakyeon smiles, and his face is illuminated in an eerie manner from the firelight shining in the corner. “Then what is it?”
Silence, again.
Hakyeon, bless him, is not deterred by the stone face Sanghyuk gives him. It’s almost inspiring, Sanghyuk thinks as he rattles on about how he’s been living out here for five years, how he used to have a lot of friends in high places before he ended up coming out here, how he’s learned a ton of new magic from the fae that live in the area, how he used to be terrible at starting fires and making illusion charms to deter predators but now he’s quite well-practiced at it.
Finally Sanghyuk has to ask: “Do you have to fill every silence with noise?”
Hakyeon practically wilts under the question, and for once he is thrown off by the idea that maybe he’s talking too much, because he stops talking altogether.
Privately, Sanghyuk kind of misses the sound of Hakyeon’s voice filling the awkward spaces between them, but he does nothing to bring them back.
---
After a few more days of the silent treatment, Sanghyuk decides he can’t take it anymore, and ventures out of the cave, only to be met by a host of other creatures, some of which he recognises, most of which he couldn’t tell from anything else. There are flowers that speak to him in creepy whispers, a tree that mumbles in a language that Sanghyuk can’t understand, and a large number of fae, none of whom seem particularly impressed by Sanghyuk’s royal status when he accidentally tells them of it in conversation. They offer to teach him things, and he declines each offer, making mental note to ask Hakyeon later if he knows about them, if Sanghyuk can really learn from them.
An unfriendly faerie approaches, looking as if he’s dying of the cold, and Sanghyuk feels that tingle in the base of his spine that tells him that this stranger is a potential ally, one of the same kind as he. “Who goes there?” he demands, halting in place, holding up his hands as if to attack even though he’s so weak out here that he couldn’t hurt anyone even if he tried.
“What does it matter to you,” and the voice is soft, reminiscent of something that could float away in a gust of wind. “I’m just looking for my…” And here he’s obviously struggling with words, but settles on ‘friend’ to finish off the sentence. “Have you seen him?” The fae’s wings struggle to flit about, and Sanghyuk eyes the appendages with concern.
“No, I don’t know who you’re--” Oh, right. Hakyeon. Probably. “...He’s back at our cave. I assume you know where that is?”
“I don’t,” says the wispy voice, and the faerie peeks out from under long hair at Sanghyuk, watching him intently, lips parted. “Please show me the way.”
Sanghyuk, assuming only the best, leads this fae in the direction of the cave, but doesn’t go all the way inside -- after all, he isn’t quite done venturing, and has many more things he’d like to explore. Still, he points the fae in the direction of the open mouth of the cave, which appears to be dark from the outside but is actually lit up inside. He explains all this to the stranger, who grins in a way that makes Sanghyuk uncomfortable for reasons he cannot quite explain. In fact, it’s enough to make him want to accompany this individual to the opening in the cave, so he does, guiding him inside.
Oh, if only he’d been paying attention when Hakyeon had been prattling on before.
The first thing that happens when Sanghyuk and the stranger enter the cave is that Hakyeon bristles visibly, his palms go up, twinkling with offensive magic that burns bright orange as if an ember were powering it. The stranger laughs quietly, and puts up a shield that contains both him and Sanghyuk inside. “You’re not going to hurt me,” says the stranger. “I’ll take care of your precious prince if you do.”
“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon growls, visibly trying to figure out this conundrum.
Sanghyuk doesn’t know much, but he knows now that he’s made a terrible mistake, bringing this stranger -- Taekwoon -- here. He pins the larger fae to the wall, and reaches for the knife he usually carried strapped to his thigh, just out of habit. Of course, it’s not there, and Sanghyuk is forced to curse Hakyeon, if silently, for stripping him of his weapon.
So he binds Taekwoon to the wall instead, and yes, his magic is weak, but it’s enough to fell the shield binding him to Taekwoon. This lets him cross the short distance between himself and Hakyeon, pushing past the elder fae to grab up his knife. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles as he moves, then marches right back across the cave to press the blade of his weapon to Taekwoon’s throat.
“You have made a mistake, tricking me into bringing you here,” Sanghyuk breathes in a low voice, eyes narrowing, resisting the urge to cut the pale flesh under his blade. “You will leave, and you will tell no one what you have seen here, and you will keep to yourself from now on.”
Taekwoon laughs without humour, his weight beginning to collapse under the strain of his magical bonds. “I don’t know who taught you that there are rules out here, but there aren’t,” he says softly. Then the fae falls to the floor, clambers out of the cave, letting his wings carry him the ways in which his feet cannot.
When Sanghyuk turns back to Hakyeon, he can’t help himself -- he puts on a sheepish grin, scratches the back of his neck. “Oops?”
“Oops,” Hakyeon mutters, eyes trained willfully on Sanghyuk’s face. “You’re joking, right? Oops? That’s all you’ve got? That’s one of the things that’s been trying to kill me since I got here years ago, and I just now within the last year figured out how to get away from him, and you led him right to where I’ve set up shop, and all you have to say is oops.” His tone switches from vague disbelief to unbridled rage so quickly that Sanghyuk isn’t certain he isn’t imagining it.
“I didn’t know! You’re friendly with so many people out here, how was I supposed to figure out that you weren’t with that one?” Sanghyuk is yelling now, even though he doesn’t mean to be; his face is coloured bright crimson and there are tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. “It’s your fault for being friends with strangers, your fault for trying to guard a stupid cave, your fault for even being out here in the first place!”
Hakyeon shrinks back, his face wrinkled up, and he looks about as ready to cry as Sanghyuk feels. They both breathe heavily, the sounds of shallow inhales and heavy exhales filling the silence between them. Sanghyuk thinks he prefers Hakyeon running his mouth to this tense quiet.
“You’re right,” Hakyeon says in the voice of a broken man. “You’re absolutely right. Maybe I should leave.” So he does, gathering up a cloak hanging in the corner, woven with fresh pine needles and leaves, and wraps himself up inside it. Then he storms out, and for some reason, Sanghyuk is compelled to run out after him. Maybe it’s the imminent threat of death out there waiting for the spring faerie, the knowledge Sanghyuk now has of Hakyeon’s enemies. Maybe it’s something more, something protective -- he had, after all, been raised to believe that some things in life are worth protecting.
He doesn’t go out, though, instead curling in the bed and filling himself with thoughts about what a fool he’s been, thinking he could survive out here in the neutral zone, so far from home that no one he knows and loves can find him.
---
Later that evening, after much time has passed and the sunset colours the light streaming into the cave an autumnal shade of gold, Sanghyuk is only half-asleep, but he swears he could dream the sound that bounces off the cave walls. Hakyeon has returned; he flings off his cloak and hangs it in its normal spot before flopping down in the tiny bed alongside Sanghyuk.
There’s no way he knows Sanghyuk is awake, so the younger pretends to snore, and Hakyeon begins speaking quietly.
“I used to be a member of the Unseelie Court,” he murmurs, so low that Sanghyuk isn’t sure he’s not imagining the sound. “No one particularly important, just someone who had to go to balls every so often, raise toasts to the king at feast, kiss up to those who thought they were playing a crucial part of a fool’s game. And I had a lover, and that lover was the prince.”
The prince? Sanghyuk swallows so loud that it causes Hakyeon to pause. The prince to whom Sanghyuk had been betrothed, albeit for political reasons, had taken a lover before him? Now he’s privately glad he didn’t take that proposal the way his parents had so wanted him to.
“I cared deeply for him. Maybe even loved him a little more than I should have. And one evening, drunk on summer wine, I curled around him, stroked his hair and told him as much. He was already asleep, of course, and I don’t know that he heard me, but the very next day I was dragged from a lunch engagement I had with one of the royal princesses, held in contempt of the Unseelie Court, branded a traitor for sleeping with their beloved prince. My punishment was that of being banned from the court, and ever since then I have lived out here.
“Maybe you’re right, Sanghyuk, Royal Prince of the Seelie Court. Maybe it’s my fault for living out here.” And here Hakyeon’s breath brushes the pointed shell of Sanghyuk’s ear, and he smells vaguely of wine, and his voice ekes of a sadness that Sanghyuk can neither understand nor explain. “Maybe it’s my fault for loving Jaehwan so much. But the fact of the matter is that no matter what I did in order to deserve this fate? I don’t regret it, not one bit.”
Sanghyuk wants to turn around in the hold Hakyeon has on him, wants to press his lips comfortingly to the elder’s forehead, wants to tell him that he’s sorry, that he won’t bring anyone around anymore and that he’ll constantly be on his guard looking out for people that look to harm their current life together. But instead, he pretends to sleep, and eventually, Hakyeon drifts off as well.
---
Their next few weeks go along quietly, Hakyeon going back to normal as if Sanghyuk has apologised and nothing awful has transpired between the two of them. He also doesn’t acknowledge the drunken confession he made, operating on the assumption that Sanghyuk hasn’t heard any of it. Sanghyuk doesn’t know how much of the rattling coming from Hakyeon he can take, not when the elder’s face is filled with so much sadness he looks like he’s going to burst into tears at any minute.
He wants to apologise, but he doesn’t know how.
When the nights are long and Sanghyuk can’t sleep, he practises his fire spells until he can melt through ice. He doesn’t know what good it’s going to do him unless he leaves, and one day he knows what his apology has to be.
So when things are cold, too cold for Sanghyuk to see the world beyond the cloud of steam that envelops him, and he can barely move beyond the sluggish movements of dragging himself around the cave, Sanghyuk goes out and gathers things for them to eat. He digs under snow, melts it with fire, tries his best to be the true practitioner of magic he knows himself to be. When he has an armful of frozen greens and various nuts that absolutely were not stolen from various woodland creatures -- squirrels, chipmunks and the like -- he goes back to the cave, and wakes Hakyeon, who had just settled in for his afternoon nap.
“I brought things for dinner,” he says, unceremonious as possible.
Hakyeon breaks into a bright grin, and he looks like he’s going to launch himself into a hug, but Sanghyuk stands back, nodding down at the armload of food he carries in his arms.
So he settles on an encouraging nod himself, and curls back up. Sanghyuk dumps all the ingredients for their dinner into the large pot, then crawls into bed, his arms wrapped around Hakyeon’s back, pulling him into a hug.
For warmth, of course. No other reason.
---
They kiss for the first time completely by accident, at least in Sanghyuk’s estimation. They’re sitting up late one night, Hakyeon staying up to maintain the new illusion charms he’s draped over the cave’s entrance, Sanghyuk merely to keep the other company, and talking about things that don’t matter, a real conversation despite Sanghyuk’s need to keep the most private portions of himself hidden away. “You never did tell me why you ran away,” Hakyeon is saying, one eyebrow raised, his hand on Sanghyuk’s shoulder, shaking him gently.
“I ran away because…” And he doesn’t know how to say it, because he knows that it will probably hurt Hakyeon to hear that Sanghyuk was set to wed his beloved Prince Jaehwan, and despite his urges to the contrary, he doesn’t want to hurt Hakyeon, not really. So he does what anyone would do: uses his fae tricks, spins a tale. “I was meant to marry some girl, some member of the Unseelie Court. And I didn’t want to, so I came here, where my family can’t find me, knowing they wouldn’t chase after me if I got far enough away.”
Hakyeon’s lips purse into a thin line for a long minute, and then he smiles. “That’s all? You should marry the girl, then, little one. For your family’s sake. They must love you very much if they want you to marry someone of their choosing.”
Too late into the lie, Sanghyuk remembers that there are no daughters of the royal family in the Unseelie Court, and he knows he can’t take it back, not yet. So he grimaces, puts on a face for Hakyeon’s sake. “I don’t want to marry some dumb girl,” he says softly, shaking his head. “Why would I?”
“Because it’s what an adult would do, Sanghyuk,” and Hakyeon’s tone is all chastisement, “and you are, most definitely, an adult, albeit a very, very bad one.”
Sanghyuk shakes his head. “I’m not!” he insists, scooting away from the form across the bed from him, pressing his back to the wall. “I’m not an adult, I’m just a little prince, how could you want me to marry some girl I don’t even know?”
“You haven’t met her?” Hakyeon blinks, surprised. “I thought all the members of both courts knew each other. Except the royal families, of course, and that’s because they haven’t spoken to one another about anything but war in half a century.”
Blast, he’s caught. “I-I don’t know anyone personally,” Sanghyuk refutes, flushing, sure that Hakyeon can see the change in his colour despite the dimming light of the fire being the only thing generating light between them. It’s then that he remembers the first lie between them, the one where Sanghyuk doesn’t know anything about what Hakyeon is doing out here, and grins. “You know a lot about court for someone who isn’t from there, you know.” And now they’re both trapped, though they don’t know it. Hakyeon freezes, comically so, and Sanghyuk leans forward, practically collapsing in Hakyeon’s lap, arms wound around his waist. “I was kidding, of course,” he murmurs, face pressed into the other fae’s belly. “You can know whatever you want, it doesn’t matter to me.”
“You knew this whole time?” Hakyeon demands, serious tone a sharp contrast to Sanghyuk’s playful one. Sanghyuk swallows, sits up, glances around and points at himself as if to say ‘who, me?’ Hakyeon shakes his head. “How much do you know?”
Sanghyuk sighs, looking now at anywhere but at Hakyeon’s face. “Enough to know that I’m not supposed to tell you who I was really supposed to marry.”
The expression on Hakyeon’s face changes to one of emotionless stone. “They’re going to marry him off,” he whispers, and Sanghyuk swears he hears a tinkle of glass, representative of Hakyeon’s breaking heart.
“Not now they’re not,” Sanghyuk points out, “not now that I’m not there.”
Hakyeon practically melts at the notion. “You’re right, he can’t be wed if you don’t wed him,” he declares in a decidedly jovial tone. “Now I just have to keep you here forever.”
“You’re going to keep me?!” Sanghyuk pouts, though he’s not sure if he’s more offended by the idea that Hakyeon thinks him possible to be kept, or that the idea hadn’t occurred to Hakyeon sooner. “Isn’t that interesting, a banned man keeping a royal prince by his side for the rest of eternity… or at least, eternity so long as we make it through the winter.” He’s got a catlike look about him now, eyes crinkled up into tiny crescents, a sly grin curling the corners of his mouth. “Is that what you really want, hmm?”
And Hakyeon takes Sanghyuk’s wrists in his hands, pulls the younger into his lap, wraps long legs around his own waist. “Maybe I wanted to keep you the whole time, did you ever think of that?” he purrs, a sound to match Sanghyuk’s expression. They bump foreheads, and their lips brush together, and it’s completely by accident, except for the part where Sanghyuk is pretty sure it had been planned from the start.
He’s not sure he even felt this tricked, this betrayed when the wicked fae Taekwoon had charmed him into showing him where the cave was.
They go to bed that morning entwined in one another’s arms, their brows pushed together, their legs entangled. The last thought Sanghyuk has before falling asleep is just how nice it is to have someone he cares about so close to him.
part two