The Angel's Voice
Title: The Angel's Voice (Part I)
Pairing: Woogyu, Myungyeol, Various
Summary: A prince -- spoiled, unquenchable boredom, lost. A slave boy -- singer, lost, defiant, headstrong. Sometimes life just isn't meant to be. Sometimes it is. And sometimes one must learn to step back and take a leap of faith into the unknown.
Notes: Yes, you read that right :D This is Part I out of goodness knows how many parts. I'm currently working on Part II, which is in Sunggyu's point of view. Part I is entirely in Woohyun's point of view :) Enjoy!
__
You wonder. About what it means to be human, to be able to breathe, to feel the solid ‘thumpthumpthump’ of your heart on the left of your chest somewhere near your breast for the lack of a better word. You wonder what it means to be alive yet continue living through a monotonous life, rerun over and over again like a bad movie replay. You sigh, slouching down in your throne - your father’s throne your mind corrects you with gleeful vindictiveness - and you wonder yet again you find these dancers entertaining at all.
You watch impassively, feeling rather bored about it all as the dancers spin, splitting in the middle like a precise incision for a fair-skinned beauty to sweep his way forwards, body rolling in sensual waves as he moves with the music. His pink, rosy lips are curled up into a sensual yet shy smile as he looks at your from beneath long eyelashes. He’s beautiful you acknowledge and you await the same feelings of lust to arise in you again like it did a few weeks ago but you feel nothing.
You see a flash of disappointment in his eyes before he drops to the floor on his knees, moves seductive. You turn your head away as you sigh again. Perhaps he would’ve been able to catch your attention again maybe a week ago but today, you feel more bored than usual. Lazily, you raise a hand and carelessly flick your fingers.
The effect is immediate as the dancers immediately stops whatever they are doing and lines up. The musicians’ music halt at once as they attempt to pick up their instruments as quietly as possible before filing out, the dancers trailing after them. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the way he drags his feet to leave as though expecting you to call him back so that he can pleasure you between your sheets again as you taste his soft, milky skin and take possession of his seductive lips.
You don’t.
Instead, you throw your advisor a look and he’s moving down the steps immediately, taking the dancer’s elbow politely and leading him out the door, murmuring, “Perhaps later Sungjong-sshi,” and the door to the throne room is shut with a ‘thud’ echoing in the silence.
“Your highness,” you advisor starts but you raise a hand, stopping his words as you slip off the throne, moving down the steps, your mask as the ‘cold Crown Prince’ slipping away as you come to a stop in the centre of the room.
“Myungsoo,” you sigh, disappointed. “The entertainment no longer satisfies my need to quench this never-ending boredom,”
You give your long time friend a suffering look as his lips quirk into a slight smile. Myungsoo has been your friend ever since you can remember. His silent support and quiet yet efficient advice has pulled you through the obstacles that have been thrown your way throughout your life as a Crown Prince.
“Your highness… Woohyun,” he says, reaching out and touching your shoulder calmingly. “Perhaps you can try appreciating the finer beauty of singing? There’s word in the village of a singer, a magnificent one at that, tucked away in a slave house,”
You smile, throwing an arm around your friend’s shoulder as you chuckle, bumping your head to his affectionately. “Mm, perhaps it is about time I get involved in the slave trade my father was so enticed with,”
__
Sunggyu wonders. About what life would be like outside this hellhole. He vaguely remembers the feel of grass under his feet as he runs in the forest with Sungyeol by his side, the warmth of the sun beating down on his skin as he lays side by side with Sungyeol under a tree, imagining clouds as different things. As it is, it’s only a memory, a distant one that he is better off forgetting because freedom is but a child’s dream.
He no longer remembers the outside world. The world where he was once a farmer’s son, a world beyond this building filled with despair and pain and loss, the cries and screams of the slaves echoing in the building as he attempts to sleep at night, curled around Sungyeol protectively, keeping away the demons.
He sighs quietly, tilting his head back and resting it against the wall, shifting as little as possible so as to not disturb the sleeping boy on his lap, ignoring the cramp he feels in his left thigh. If he were to really think about it, his life in the slave house isn’t half as horrible as the other slaves. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact he willingly allowed himself to be branded, having stormed his way into a warehouse somewhere at the edge of the village where he used to live in, fighting off henchmen to save Sungyeol. Then again, it may also have something to do with the fact that the owner of the slave house and also several others in the region has a particular fondness for him.
And Sunggyu wonders yet again. Why had he done it? Why had he gone chasing after the carriage that took Sungyeol away and stormed into the warehouse, looking nothing like the superheroes his mother used to tell him of in bedtime stories.
He feels Sungyeol stir in his lap, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he yawns widely, pressing his face to your stomach before blinking his eyes open, staring up at you adoringly through the haze of his sleep. Sunggyu smiles, running a hand through the mute boy’s hair as he says affectionately, “Morning sunshine,” And the smile he receives in turn makes him realize yet again why he put himself through the torture of being branded to protect him. Just because.
Sungyeol sits up, moving to sit beside Sunggyu as he rests his head on the older boy’s shoulder. He takes Sunggyu’s hand in his own and traces something on the palm of his hyung’s hand with a finger, worrying at his lower lip.
A kiss is pressed to Sungyeol’s forehead as Sunggyu says determinedly, “Do not fret Yeol-ah. I don’t care if the Crown Prince is searching for me. Even if he is the God of this universe, I will never leave you behind,”
Sungyeol smiles shakily just as the door to their room is slammed open and Dongwoo comes striding in, looking every bit like a smug cat. “Hello there Sunggyu,” he purrs, smirking. “The Crown Prince, his royal highness, Nam Woohyun requests for you. Long lives the king,”
He waves Howon forwards and Sunggyu is wrenched away from Sungyeol, Howon pulling him by his hair to stand up. Sunggyu doesn’t make a sound to acknowledge the pain of being held up by his hair and he allows himself to be shackled, taking glee in kicking out at Howon’s shin.
He elbows Howon when he tries to make Sunggyu walk and he turns to face Dongwoo calmly. “Sungyeol comes with. Or I will not cooperate,” he says, half-threatening, half-cool. Howon opens his mouth to retort as Dongwoo chuckles darkly.
“I can see why you amuse Yoochun-nim,” he mutters. “Howon, shackle the mute boy. He comes with,”
Sungyeol shudders as Howon grabs him by his upper arm none to gently, ignoring the snarl of anger from Sunggyu as he pulls the shackles on tighter than normal.
“Let’s not dally,” Dongwoo orders as he nods at Howon to get them moving. “And I expect good behavior from you,” He hisses as Sunggyu stumble past him. Sunggyu smiles coldly. “Nothing less sir,” he replies mockingly as he moves to hold Sungyeol as close he possibly can with the shackles on.
“We’ll be alright Yeol-ah,” he whispers soothingly. “We’ll be alright,” But he isn’t so sure if he’s saying it to calm Sungyeol down or to reassure himself.
.end
Pairing: Woogyu, Myungyeol, Various
Summary: A prince -- spoiled, unquenchable boredom, lost. A slave boy -- singer, lost, defiant, headstrong. Sometimes life just isn't meant to be. Sometimes it is. And sometimes one must learn to step back and take a leap of faith into the unknown.
Notes: Yes, you read that right :D This is Part I out of goodness knows how many parts. I'm currently working on Part II, which is in Sunggyu's point of view. Part I is entirely in Woohyun's point of view :) Enjoy!
__
You wonder. About what it means to be human, to be able to breathe, to feel the solid ‘thumpthumpthump’ of your heart on the left of your chest somewhere near your breast for the lack of a better word. You wonder what it means to be alive yet continue living through a monotonous life, rerun over and over again like a bad movie replay. You sigh, slouching down in your throne - your father’s throne your mind corrects you with gleeful vindictiveness - and you wonder yet again you find these dancers entertaining at all.
You watch impassively, feeling rather bored about it all as the dancers spin, splitting in the middle like a precise incision for a fair-skinned beauty to sweep his way forwards, body rolling in sensual waves as he moves with the music. His pink, rosy lips are curled up into a sensual yet shy smile as he looks at your from beneath long eyelashes. He’s beautiful you acknowledge and you await the same feelings of lust to arise in you again like it did a few weeks ago but you feel nothing.
You see a flash of disappointment in his eyes before he drops to the floor on his knees, moves seductive. You turn your head away as you sigh again. Perhaps he would’ve been able to catch your attention again maybe a week ago but today, you feel more bored than usual. Lazily, you raise a hand and carelessly flick your fingers.
The effect is immediate as the dancers immediately stops whatever they are doing and lines up. The musicians’ music halt at once as they attempt to pick up their instruments as quietly as possible before filing out, the dancers trailing after them. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the way he drags his feet to leave as though expecting you to call him back so that he can pleasure you between your sheets again as you taste his soft, milky skin and take possession of his seductive lips.
You don’t.
Instead, you throw your advisor a look and he’s moving down the steps immediately, taking the dancer’s elbow politely and leading him out the door, murmuring, “Perhaps later Sungjong-sshi,” and the door to the throne room is shut with a ‘thud’ echoing in the silence.
“Your highness,” you advisor starts but you raise a hand, stopping his words as you slip off the throne, moving down the steps, your mask as the ‘cold Crown Prince’ slipping away as you come to a stop in the centre of the room.
“Myungsoo,” you sigh, disappointed. “The entertainment no longer satisfies my need to quench this never-ending boredom,”
You give your long time friend a suffering look as his lips quirk into a slight smile. Myungsoo has been your friend ever since you can remember. His silent support and quiet yet efficient advice has pulled you through the obstacles that have been thrown your way throughout your life as a Crown Prince.
“Your highness… Woohyun,” he says, reaching out and touching your shoulder calmingly. “Perhaps you can try appreciating the finer beauty of singing? There’s word in the village of a singer, a magnificent one at that, tucked away in a slave house,”
You smile, throwing an arm around your friend’s shoulder as you chuckle, bumping your head to his affectionately. “Mm, perhaps it is about time I get involved in the slave trade my father was so enticed with,”
__
Sunggyu wonders. About what life would be like outside this hellhole. He vaguely remembers the feel of grass under his feet as he runs in the forest with Sungyeol by his side, the warmth of the sun beating down on his skin as he lays side by side with Sungyeol under a tree, imagining clouds as different things. As it is, it’s only a memory, a distant one that he is better off forgetting because freedom is but a child’s dream.
He no longer remembers the outside world. The world where he was once a farmer’s son, a world beyond this building filled with despair and pain and loss, the cries and screams of the slaves echoing in the building as he attempts to sleep at night, curled around Sungyeol protectively, keeping away the demons.
He sighs quietly, tilting his head back and resting it against the wall, shifting as little as possible so as to not disturb the sleeping boy on his lap, ignoring the cramp he feels in his left thigh. If he were to really think about it, his life in the slave house isn’t half as horrible as the other slaves. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact he willingly allowed himself to be branded, having stormed his way into a warehouse somewhere at the edge of the village where he used to live in, fighting off henchmen to save Sungyeol. Then again, it may also have something to do with the fact that the owner of the slave house and also several others in the region has a particular fondness for him.
And Sunggyu wonders yet again. Why had he done it? Why had he gone chasing after the carriage that took Sungyeol away and stormed into the warehouse, looking nothing like the superheroes his mother used to tell him of in bedtime stories.
He feels Sungyeol stir in his lap, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he yawns widely, pressing his face to your stomach before blinking his eyes open, staring up at you adoringly through the haze of his sleep. Sunggyu smiles, running a hand through the mute boy’s hair as he says affectionately, “Morning sunshine,” And the smile he receives in turn makes him realize yet again why he put himself through the torture of being branded to protect him. Just because.
Sungyeol sits up, moving to sit beside Sunggyu as he rests his head on the older boy’s shoulder. He takes Sunggyu’s hand in his own and traces something on the palm of his hyung’s hand with a finger, worrying at his lower lip.
A kiss is pressed to Sungyeol’s forehead as Sunggyu says determinedly, “Do not fret Yeol-ah. I don’t care if the Crown Prince is searching for me. Even if he is the God of this universe, I will never leave you behind,”
Sungyeol smiles shakily just as the door to their room is slammed open and Dongwoo comes striding in, looking every bit like a smug cat. “Hello there Sunggyu,” he purrs, smirking. “The Crown Prince, his royal highness, Nam Woohyun requests for you. Long lives the king,”
He waves Howon forwards and Sunggyu is wrenched away from Sungyeol, Howon pulling him by his hair to stand up. Sunggyu doesn’t make a sound to acknowledge the pain of being held up by his hair and he allows himself to be shackled, taking glee in kicking out at Howon’s shin.
He elbows Howon when he tries to make Sunggyu walk and he turns to face Dongwoo calmly. “Sungyeol comes with. Or I will not cooperate,” he says, half-threatening, half-cool. Howon opens his mouth to retort as Dongwoo chuckles darkly.
“I can see why you amuse Yoochun-nim,” he mutters. “Howon, shackle the mute boy. He comes with,”
Sungyeol shudders as Howon grabs him by his upper arm none to gently, ignoring the snarl of anger from Sunggyu as he pulls the shackles on tighter than normal.
“Let’s not dally,” Dongwoo orders as he nods at Howon to get them moving. “And I expect good behavior from you,” He hisses as Sunggyu stumble past him. Sunggyu smiles coldly. “Nothing less sir,” he replies mockingly as he moves to hold Sungyeol as close he possibly can with the shackles on.
“We’ll be alright Yeol-ah,” he whispers soothingly. “We’ll be alright,” But he isn’t so sure if he’s saying it to calm Sungyeol down or to reassure himself.
.end