[Fic] Ballad of the Moon : 12a
Title: Ballad of the Moon
Pairing: Jaemin, Yoomin
Length: Chapter 12/22
Genre: fantasy, adventure, angst,drama
Disclaimer: idea based on goose-girl fairy tale ~
Summary: Changmin has no control over his life as he's forced to leave his home to become the escort of the Crown Prince in a faraway land. Before he can even reach his destination, he's betrayed by his own guard and barely escapes death, finding himself alone and forgotten in a dark forsaken land where magic is real and even the moon has deserted the sky.
A/N: oh my writers blockㅠㅠ had the yoomin part done for ages but the rest just wouldn't come. be prepared for a flood of emotional drama x_x! super long like always so had to break into part a/b, hope you enjoy it <3 thank u for following the story even through all the long waits TT love you all~~*hugs*
Previous Chapters: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven |
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(what do you think of this lovely poster ? made by toni_luv :) thank u so much ! <3)
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Junsu had been staring at him all morning. Although thinking about it now he realized that ever since they’d met there hadn’t been a day that passed in which the other wasn’t by his side with his eyes fixed unwaveringly upon himself. Always waiting for Yoochun to turn to him, to speak to him, to share with him, to turn and find him there ready and waiting.
Junsu had filled the place next to him so smoothly, so effortlessly, that Yoochun hadn’t quite noticed just how easily the other had melted into his right hand. Someone who seemed to always read his moods, know what the smallest expression or glance could mean. And he thought he’d maybe already started taking such care for granted. Or at least he hadn’t acknowledged or noticed just how attentive the other was.
It felt natural and comfortable for them, a connection like one that could only be built through much time spent together. However, this time the light in those familiar eyes was different. Something was off, potentially wrong, something bothering the other and it caused him to be uncharacteristically quiet and serious.
Yoochun had been too wrapped up in the lingering shadows of his dreams, barely able to leave the side of the fireplace without reliving the terrifying sensation of cold creeping into his core. He’d been too preoccupied and just plain scared to do anything but nibble at his bottom lip, drowning in a blanket wrapped tightly about his shoulders, eyes opened wide and glassy to reflect the flickering orange flames.
Junsu had been a silent presence by his side, one he had honestly forgotten about until the odd sensation that he was
being watched sank into his consciousness.
Tearing his eyes away from the patterns he’d been tracing in the flames at last, he turned to find dark troubled eyes upon him. Junsu’s expression melted and smoothed out almost instantly, but not before Yoochun caught the brooding crease between his brows, the frown that had been pulling at his lips.
Yoochun stared at him quietly for a while, leaving a chance for the other to open up and speak, to explain his expression
or to keep it private and pretend he hadn’t been caught. It wasn’t like Junsu to be so silent, and seeing him like this now Yoochun’s mind went blank as to what he should say.
He felt rather guilty, sorry for the fact he had essentially ignored the other after fainting in his arms upon dismounting from his horse. Junsu was so amiable and understanding that it was easy to disregard him, to let himself be carried away on images of a golden field shrouded in mist, of warm fingers curled around his own. Emotions and feelings he wanted to fall into, soak up and bask in, followed almost instantly by those that made him shiver uncontrollably, made him curl into himself and nearly singe his hair off by leaning too close to the fire logs.
He supposed that Junsu was just upset over the events of the previous night, remembering only too well how distraught he’d been the first time he’d been cursed. He wasn’t sure how the other was taking all of the rapid changes in the castle the last few days, hadn’t had enough presence of mind or extra energy to check up on or care about him. Not when he was the one suffering, cursed and blackmailed. But standing helplessly alongside merely watching had obviously been affecting Junsu deeply, and he seemed terrified of the Sorcerer and Jaejoong, but not without reason.
A few seconds was as long as the stare lasted before the pensive look on Junsu’s face that indicated he wanted to say something melted into a more closed expression. Like he decided against speaking, and Yoochun decided to just give him some space. He turned back to gaze blankly at the fire. Even if Junsu was his normal sunny self, there was nothing to smile about that morning anyway.
He couldn’t get the scene of the day before out of his head. Nor could he think very well around the haze of fatigue that muddled his brain. He had hardly slept at all what with the dreams and nightmares awakening him time and time again and making the night alive with dark magic, in the midst of which Changmin was ever present, always within his reach before leaving him, before being torn away.
And he was tired. So tired. Tired as his body still struggled to regain its usual heat, tired as his mind was constantly churning with unanswered questions, worries, dreams, and Changmin. Too tired to face what was waiting for him outside the privacy of his chamber doors. The people who would look to him for answers, expect him to lead them, order them, protect them. People who would inevitably shield their disappointment and slow descent into distrust behind respectful bows. He was losing their respect, losing what power he’d had as the Crown Prince, losing everything he’d been born for one day at a time.
Because they all could feel it now in their bones when the Sorcerer crossed the gate of the courtyard. It was a sudden cold feeling, something that made your heart sink and stomach clench uncomfortably. It was a signal for you to steal away to the far recesses of the castle where the man was less likely to frequent, to find tasks to do that would lead you out of the castle for the day. A sign for you to stay in your room, avoid the throne room and the corridors as black smoke curled into the very air and stained the flagstones, made the flames sputter and wither in their holders. It was the time for you to sneak out the back steps, mount your horse and ride through the forest to where the sun sparkled gold off of dancing stalks.
Yoochun quickly blinked the sight away, shivering as the cold seeped deeper into him, spine stiffening as he felt the subtle shift in atmosphere. The fire was no longer blazing warm, it had sunk low into itself, weak and licking halfheartedly at the charred wood feeding it. He knew it wouldn’t be long before there would be soft footsteps outside, then timid voices and knocks at his door. The ones sent by the Sorcerer to summon him, or the ones come to beg him to go do something. Those were the few that still stood behind him and didn’t blame him for all that had happened.
The ones like Junsu. He glanced at the other, suddenly wanting to confirm his support, to see the unwavering loyalty and warmth the other always had to offer. Junsu wasn’t looking at him like he expected, but instead down his own hands twisted anxiously in his lap, face hidden by his hair. Even from here Yoochun could see the way his body trembled and shook as if he were freezing.
And he suddenly regretting shutting the other out. Junsu looked so young and fragile, shoulders grown small in the way he hunched over himself, hands unclasping to slip around himself in an imitation of a hug. Yoochun’s own unhappiness slipped away for a moment as he focused and actually saw the other, how something about him really wasn’t okay. And he didn’t even know if something had happened to him while he was gone.
He stood quickly, blanket falling from his shoulders to pool at his feet. Three quick strides and he was next to the other, Junsu looking up in surprise just as he came to stand before him. Looking down at him and the feeling became even stronger. Junsu gave him an outlet for the nervous dread filling him up, a way to channel it into something else, to focus on Junsu instead of the fear, and to not feel so alone.
“Yoochun-”
His voice was cut off, muffled as Yoochun sank onto the cushion before him, arms wrapping around his body and pulling him close. Junsu felt small, someone who must be protected, and it made Yoochun feel like he was needed, that he maybe could be that leader that they all wanted him to be. The one Junsu said he looked up to when the other really had no idea what was in Yoochun’s heart and mind. How much he wanted to run away.
At least for now, doing something made him feel better, kept he anxious energy at bay, and he needed Junsu to cling to him, to make him feel strong, to make him feel confident, to help him remember this feeling for the moment the Sorcerer would call for him and crush him into a worthless mockery of a Prince with merely a few words.
Junsu was still shaking as if he were cold, even as his body felt overly warm to the touch. His head rested lightly against Yoochun’s shoulder but his hands didn’t release his own arms to clutch at Yoochun instead. Yoochun tightened his arms in response, wanting Junsu to rely on him, wanting a different reaction, wanting something else than the hesitant question that floated up from under his chin.
“What...do you dream about at night?”
Surprised by the question, Yoochun’s hold loosened, leaning back slightly to try to look at the other, and now he found Junsu lifted his head to meet his eyes. It was still the strangely serious facade, the one without the hint of that carefree smile, missing the glint of happy content in his eyes.
Yoochun wasn’t sure how to respond, wondering if the question had something to do with the effects the Sorcerer’s presence was having on Junsu. If the black magic that froze and sucked out all light was making him dream twisted ugly things as well. The dark haunted look taking over Junsu’s whole visage was a slow confirmation echoing in his own heart.
“They’re just nightmares, Junsu, they can’t hurt you. And...I wont let him touch you. I promise.”
Junsu blinked at him slowly, already shaking his head, fingers clenching around his arms tighter. “No.” He spoke in a near whisper. “Your dreams.” He licked his lips almost nervously, eyes big and wide, holding his own unblinkingly. “I couldn’t sleep...I was watching over you...Please forgive my forwardness.” He didn’t look down or away even while speaking so boldly, even while confessing to watching Yoochun sleep.
But Yoochun felt a wash of warmth at the words, that Junsu cared enough to take care of him. When all others had left him, when all others refused to see the state of him, ignored the signs of black magic, Junsu had stayed, had braved the possibility that he could be hurt too.
Yoochun shook his head, realizing he had some confessions of his own to make. To let Junsu know he was needed even if everyone else gave up on him. “There’s nothing to forgive. You’re the only one I trust in my room at night anymore.”
Junsu stared at him. Something heavy, something unreadable clouding his eyes. Yoochun didn’t know how to interpret it, concern slipping through everything else to make him wary. It was almost as if Junsu was hiding something from him, the darkness in his expression easily mistaken for a hesitance born of some truth he seemed torn over whether to reveal or not. And there were too many words buried there for Yoochun to even guess.
“You were talking in your sleep.” Junsu’s voice was soft but flat, devoid of its usual life, empty even of the emotion that should be present if what he was holding back be made of fear or guilt. The something that Yoochun didn’t know growing bigger and more incomprehensible.
“What did I say?” He prompted, refusing to be swayed and drawn into more doubt by the strangeness of the other, firmly resisting the encompassing lure of darkness in his eyes. As much as they tormented him, he knew the nightmares were nothing more dangerous or substantial than any other dream. They weren’t actual magic but merely his own mind recreating and fearing all it couldn’t understand or control.
Junsu didn’t speak for a long time, didn’t hardly blink, just continually searching Yoochun’s face for something. Yoochun didn’t know what he was looking for, didn’t know what to offer but the assurance that none of it was real. Nothing was real save for the man he would never admit to dreaming about, the one who had secretly stolen into his life and heart in the strangest manner.
He’d become connected to Changmin through a curse no less, and he wasn’t about to tell Junsu such a thing, not when all his common sense told him any other person would see it wrong, tell him he was bewitched and bound by magic, not when his honor as the Crown Prince demanded he conform to social rank and class. And especially not when he wanted to keep Changmin secretly hidden away from anyone who may condemn him, those who had the power to hurt him, to dispose of a slave brazen enough to consort with royalty. Even if he be a slave of the Sorcerer. Even if Yoochun had been the one to go to him first.
He suddenly wanted to look away from Junsu’s piercing eyes. An urge to hide his thoughts and he suddenly felt exposed, as if they were screaming loud and clear for everyone to hear. And almost as if he’d heard him, like he understood what Yoochun was thinking, like he could even see what and who Yoochun had seen the previous day, Junsu spoke at last.
“A name. You said...a name.”
The words hung in the air between them. Meaningful. Much too meaningful. But Junsu couldn’t know the Sorcerer held a
slave. Couldn’t know that Yoochun had met with him as Yoochun himself hadn’t found out Changmin’s status until that moment. It was impossible, yet Junsu’s tone was knowing. Hard with certainty. As if he knew what that single name could mean.
Unless his dreams were not his own but rather intentionally caused by the Sorcerer who could also possibly implemented them to other means, such as letting other people of the court see them too. Letting them know where he’d gone and who
he’d smiled at while they remained trapped in the castle, abandoned by their Prince and left to fend for themselves, helpless under the influence of the Sorcerer. It would be so easy to make them doubt him. But Junsu couldn’t know. Yoochun wouldn’t let him.
“I...don’t remember.” He lied dully, trying to keep his voice steady. He didn’t know why he wanted to hide the truth from
even Junsu. Junsu who was his personal man, Junsu who trusted him, who always looked at him with something shining like admiration, Junsu who had stood so strong beside him even while others crumpled and faded before the rise of black magic. Junsu who was wavering before him now, and all because of some dreams. “They’re just dreams.” He repeated, willing Junsu to believe him. To trust him even as he lied to his face.
Junsu nodded slowly but his expression didn’t lighten, nor did his eyes clear. Yoochun’s heart started to sink. He sat back on his heels, suddenly feeling like the air was too thick, that the walls were closing in around him, slowly pushing and bending the air as they collapsed beneath dark shadows. He needed to get away. Everything was falling under the power of the Sorcerer, everyone around him was slowly being twisted and turned, taken away from him by fear and doubt and magic, and he couldn’t bear to see the way Junsu’s eyes were pointing out his lie.
He stood up abruptly, almost at the same moment that a knock sounded on the door, echoing hollowly just like his heart was doing in his chest. It was too late, he couldn’t run away, couldn’t escape the call of the black man who’d come back
to play with and threaten him yet again.
He wasn’t ready. Not after what had happened yesterday. Not ready to be led to the somber dark bedroom in which his father lay, the air already choked with death and smokey incense so strong it stung his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see the pallid color of his father’s face, skin sunken and yellowing, wrinkles standing out more sharply defined than they were under the light of the sun. The way each breath rattled his frame and hardly filled ribs which seemed flimsy and bony as they had never before.
He wasn’t ready to be escorted to the throne room by dark faced servants who’s backs seemed more bent and crippled than before. The hands pushing open heavy oaken doors thin and misshapen, spidery veins popping unhealthily. Each thing he laid his eyes on seemed to wither and distort before his very eyes, and he couldn’t pretend not to see, not with the way they all stared back at him. Eyes pleading and filled with so much darkness. He didn’t meet their eyes.
Not when he was sat in his father’s throne, the tops of heads in ranks spread more sparsely than usual as they bowed before his presence. Not out of respect as they would his father, but out of necessity. Because the Sorcerer stood at his right hand, tall and silent, impeccable in black robes that subdued and darkened the vast hall despite the grand windows reaching to the high ceiling.
It was a day he thought would never end. One plagued with boundaries and expectations more encompassing and imprisoning than those his father had ever placed on him. No moment to hardly think on his own as the Sorcerer breathed down his back, whispered things into his very mind, suggested things he repeated out like a broken doll, using his voice and commanding his body as if it were nothing but a tool, a familiar face for the people to look as they pretended they couldn’t see the shadow that slunk behind him in full sight.
The night was wrought with more restless dreams, fitful and broken by a pair of staring eyes from the blanket by the fire.
Junsu hadn’t spoken to him for the rest of the day, his smiles had returned brittle and tense, not reaching to warm his eyes. Yoochun tried not to see it, tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, but something within him was cracking as the other changed before his eyes.
He wasn’t even sure how he was going to survive much more of it or if he’d end up like his father once the Sorcerer was through with him, disposing of his puppet before he took over everything for real. He could only guess at what the man even wanted from him, why he continued to string him along and force him into his schemes and plans. Why keep up false pretenses that everyone could see through? Why pretend he held any power? Why not get rid of him and wield it personally when he knew no one could stop or challenge him?
Yoochun didn’t understand and he didn’t want to experience any more to find out. He wanted to hide, to run first and then to hide. To undo everything that had gone wrong, to return to his life, to have everything back to how it was. To erase the dark memories and pain. To see the sun and feel its warmth instead of its distance.
He missed it, craved for it, obsessed over it if only to forget and drive away the fear always creeping along his veins. And in his dreams the next night the sun visited him. A warmth that soothed his aching heart and caressed his whole being. A sun that kissed him like he were precious, golden and bright and so beautiful he felt filled until bursting, exploding glitters into passionate life. Bliss and freedom spilling from every pore, flinging himself to the far reaches of the wide open sky. Nothing to hold him in, nothing to overshadow or bind him. And it felt like something of heaven. A paradise hidden between nightmares and shrinking away from its touch even as he strained and cried, struggling to keep it within his grasp.
And he lost it to the darkness that met eyes startled awake in the middle of the night. His face wet with tears, a name on his lips and his heart in his throat. Because the last thing he’d seen was that of a body lying limp and broken amongst crushed golden grass. The eyes that had captured his soul staring glassy and empty, reflecting nothing but endless, endless blue sky.
The next day his father began screaming. A horrid torn sound from deep within his chest. Something that sent castle maids to huddle in the corners with hands over their ears and tears streaming down their faces. Something that made Junsu’s jaw clench tensely as his whole body flinched with each cry and scream, unable to look at the thrashing form on the bed just as Yoochun was unable to look at anything else. Junsu’s eyes were bright with a new fear that Yoochun knew must also reflect in his own eyes as much as he told himself to try and hide it lest it spring to life and become real.
He knew he had failed the moment Junsu’s hand found his, strong and sure despite the hesitancy in his step. Pulling him from the room and down the corridor which seemed to echo his father’s voice like a bodiless ghost wailing and crying its vengeance upon those who had wronged it. It rebounded off the walls, out through the main antechamber and out the doors, followed them all the way up the stairs to the wall of the west parapets.
He stood shaking, sound still echoing in his head even as he stared out at the city stretching before them like a painting all red tiles and white walls. He didn’t feel the arms around his waist or the head resting on his shoulder. He couldn’t understand the soft gentle words that flowed into his ear. He couldn’t see anything but the way the clouds sent dark shadowy patches across his city, the once gleaming bell tower of the city hall dull and silent. Dead and devoid of all glory. Like the voice of his father. And he shuddered silently within Junsu’s embrace, grief too great and raw to even express, just blinding and overwhelming in its reality.
Even here he could feel it. Even here dark staring eyes were piercing his skin and reading his heart. Even here that voice was slipping into his head, suffocating and twisting, warping his thoughts and bending him to a will that was not his own.
“Everything is dying.” He choked on dry gasps, tears refusing to come even as his chest heaved and his eyes burned.
It didn’t matter what Junsu said in reply because before him was nothing but darkness. Something even the sweetest of lies couldn’t banish or penetrate. And Yoochun couldn’t bear being alone in the dark, being so far away from everything he used to hold dear, everything he’d thought was his, and suddenly now being separated and cut off from the sweet emotional refuge he’d found with Changmin was almost painful.
There was nothing else that had remotely comforted him, and now that everything had crumbled to dust, there was nothing
to keep him from thinking of Changmin. Especially since his dreams had changed. They were no longer sweet comforting warmth with Changmin gently filling his senses and holding his hands. No, now it was visions of Changmin suffering, alone and helpless, calling for him silently. He would cry and beg for him to reach out a hand and save him, but to his utter dismay and despair, Yoochun could never move, couldn’t even offer him that single hand. He couldn’t do anything at all and it drove him crazy.
Dreams that once proved a better reality than the nightmare of reality soon were becoming just as dark and horrible. He
couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stay awake, and soon there was truly nothing to keep him there in the castle where his father worsened by day and the Sorcerer grew stronger and bolder each day that passed.
He soon wasn’t even leaving the castle at night, taking to standing atop one of the tallest turrets seemingly watching over the whole castle, the city, the country like a big predatory shadow. Larger than life and inky black blotting out the stars in the once soft velvet of a night turned sinister.
Everything was dying around him, life sucked daily from each person, hopes and happiness replaced by things of nightmares and Yoochun found himself nearing the brink of a vast ravenous abyss. He needed to get out, to the only place he knew that would be safe from the decay. In that field there was life, light, freedom. The fluttering of hearts, the warmth of hands, eyes that spoke to him in a way no one else did. Spoke without words because words weren’t even needed.
And he couldn’t resist anymore, couldn’t bear it, didn’t care that it was forbidden on so many levels. He’d already forgotten about the days he’d been tormented and tortured in that same field twice now. It didn't matter. He’d take it all again since he knew it wouldnt kill him, because he just had to see Changmin. He had to know that he was still alive. He couldn’t stand the uncertain anxiety of not knowing. He needed to escape, to find air that wasn’t toxic, to revive the quickly withering part within him that he didn't want to lose to darkness. He was scared he was about to fail, to break beneath the imposing force, that he would soon become another mindless slave of the Sorcerer. A slave in a position no better than Changmin.
Though he already knew with certainty, a dread lying heavily in his stomach, that he was shaping up to be even lower than that. A puppet king, one who betrayed his people and left them to suffer and fend alone against a poisonous threat while he tucked his tail between his legs and ran, hid in the golden field, fled to a single man he desired and put before all the rest of them. Cowardly. Pathetically. But too scared and desperate to care.
He wanted to avoid everything, to not be held responsible, to give into what felt safe, right, good. Just like everyone else was doing. No one dared stand up or oppose what was happening, him above all, as he saw no reason to fight for the title or kingdom the Sorcerer so obviously wanted. The man could take them from him whether he resisted or not, and he didn’t see the point in fighting. He didn't want to suffer any more for something he had never really even wanted.
He would let the man take it, and it chilled him to the bone that it seemed almost as if the Sorcerer already knew that very fact. Knew his heart so deeply and too well. That he had given him Changmin in exchange for a whole country, for power over lives of thousands, for the power to determine the fate of his land. Was Changmin really worth that much? Or was Yoochun just that low and worthless?
The answer fled before the hooves of his horse as he charged out at last away from the hopeless weeping that was his people, from the groaning ache that was his city, from the accusing eyes that was the single small form standing alone on the balustrade watching him run away. Golden hair which had long lost its enchantment shining faintly and fluttering in the breeze.
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to part --> ( b)
Pairing: Jaemin, Yoomin
Length: Chapter 12/22
Genre: fantasy, adventure, angst,drama
Disclaimer: idea based on goose-girl fairy tale ~
Summary: Changmin has no control over his life as he's forced to leave his home to become the escort of the Crown Prince in a faraway land. Before he can even reach his destination, he's betrayed by his own guard and barely escapes death, finding himself alone and forgotten in a dark forsaken land where magic is real and even the moon has deserted the sky.
A/N: oh my writers blockㅠㅠ had the yoomin part done for ages but the rest just wouldn't come. be prepared for a flood of emotional drama x_x! super long like always so had to break into part a/b, hope you enjoy it <3 thank u for following the story even through all the long waits TT love you all~~*hugs*
Previous Chapters: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven |
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(what do you think of this lovely poster ? made by toni_luv :) thank u so much ! <3)
**************
Junsu had been staring at him all morning. Although thinking about it now he realized that ever since they’d met there hadn’t been a day that passed in which the other wasn’t by his side with his eyes fixed unwaveringly upon himself. Always waiting for Yoochun to turn to him, to speak to him, to share with him, to turn and find him there ready and waiting.
Junsu had filled the place next to him so smoothly, so effortlessly, that Yoochun hadn’t quite noticed just how easily the other had melted into his right hand. Someone who seemed to always read his moods, know what the smallest expression or glance could mean. And he thought he’d maybe already started taking such care for granted. Or at least he hadn’t acknowledged or noticed just how attentive the other was.
It felt natural and comfortable for them, a connection like one that could only be built through much time spent together. However, this time the light in those familiar eyes was different. Something was off, potentially wrong, something bothering the other and it caused him to be uncharacteristically quiet and serious.
Yoochun had been too wrapped up in the lingering shadows of his dreams, barely able to leave the side of the fireplace without reliving the terrifying sensation of cold creeping into his core. He’d been too preoccupied and just plain scared to do anything but nibble at his bottom lip, drowning in a blanket wrapped tightly about his shoulders, eyes opened wide and glassy to reflect the flickering orange flames.
Junsu had been a silent presence by his side, one he had honestly forgotten about until the odd sensation that he was
being watched sank into his consciousness.
Tearing his eyes away from the patterns he’d been tracing in the flames at last, he turned to find dark troubled eyes upon him. Junsu’s expression melted and smoothed out almost instantly, but not before Yoochun caught the brooding crease between his brows, the frown that had been pulling at his lips.
Yoochun stared at him quietly for a while, leaving a chance for the other to open up and speak, to explain his expression
or to keep it private and pretend he hadn’t been caught. It wasn’t like Junsu to be so silent, and seeing him like this now Yoochun’s mind went blank as to what he should say.
He felt rather guilty, sorry for the fact he had essentially ignored the other after fainting in his arms upon dismounting from his horse. Junsu was so amiable and understanding that it was easy to disregard him, to let himself be carried away on images of a golden field shrouded in mist, of warm fingers curled around his own. Emotions and feelings he wanted to fall into, soak up and bask in, followed almost instantly by those that made him shiver uncontrollably, made him curl into himself and nearly singe his hair off by leaning too close to the fire logs.
He supposed that Junsu was just upset over the events of the previous night, remembering only too well how distraught he’d been the first time he’d been cursed. He wasn’t sure how the other was taking all of the rapid changes in the castle the last few days, hadn’t had enough presence of mind or extra energy to check up on or care about him. Not when he was the one suffering, cursed and blackmailed. But standing helplessly alongside merely watching had obviously been affecting Junsu deeply, and he seemed terrified of the Sorcerer and Jaejoong, but not without reason.
A few seconds was as long as the stare lasted before the pensive look on Junsu’s face that indicated he wanted to say something melted into a more closed expression. Like he decided against speaking, and Yoochun decided to just give him some space. He turned back to gaze blankly at the fire. Even if Junsu was his normal sunny self, there was nothing to smile about that morning anyway.
He couldn’t get the scene of the day before out of his head. Nor could he think very well around the haze of fatigue that muddled his brain. He had hardly slept at all what with the dreams and nightmares awakening him time and time again and making the night alive with dark magic, in the midst of which Changmin was ever present, always within his reach before leaving him, before being torn away.
And he was tired. So tired. Tired as his body still struggled to regain its usual heat, tired as his mind was constantly churning with unanswered questions, worries, dreams, and Changmin. Too tired to face what was waiting for him outside the privacy of his chamber doors. The people who would look to him for answers, expect him to lead them, order them, protect them. People who would inevitably shield their disappointment and slow descent into distrust behind respectful bows. He was losing their respect, losing what power he’d had as the Crown Prince, losing everything he’d been born for one day at a time.
Because they all could feel it now in their bones when the Sorcerer crossed the gate of the courtyard. It was a sudden cold feeling, something that made your heart sink and stomach clench uncomfortably. It was a signal for you to steal away to the far recesses of the castle where the man was less likely to frequent, to find tasks to do that would lead you out of the castle for the day. A sign for you to stay in your room, avoid the throne room and the corridors as black smoke curled into the very air and stained the flagstones, made the flames sputter and wither in their holders. It was the time for you to sneak out the back steps, mount your horse and ride through the forest to where the sun sparkled gold off of dancing stalks.
Yoochun quickly blinked the sight away, shivering as the cold seeped deeper into him, spine stiffening as he felt the subtle shift in atmosphere. The fire was no longer blazing warm, it had sunk low into itself, weak and licking halfheartedly at the charred wood feeding it. He knew it wouldn’t be long before there would be soft footsteps outside, then timid voices and knocks at his door. The ones sent by the Sorcerer to summon him, or the ones come to beg him to go do something. Those were the few that still stood behind him and didn’t blame him for all that had happened.
The ones like Junsu. He glanced at the other, suddenly wanting to confirm his support, to see the unwavering loyalty and warmth the other always had to offer. Junsu wasn’t looking at him like he expected, but instead down his own hands twisted anxiously in his lap, face hidden by his hair. Even from here Yoochun could see the way his body trembled and shook as if he were freezing.
And he suddenly regretting shutting the other out. Junsu looked so young and fragile, shoulders grown small in the way he hunched over himself, hands unclasping to slip around himself in an imitation of a hug. Yoochun’s own unhappiness slipped away for a moment as he focused and actually saw the other, how something about him really wasn’t okay. And he didn’t even know if something had happened to him while he was gone.
He stood quickly, blanket falling from his shoulders to pool at his feet. Three quick strides and he was next to the other, Junsu looking up in surprise just as he came to stand before him. Looking down at him and the feeling became even stronger. Junsu gave him an outlet for the nervous dread filling him up, a way to channel it into something else, to focus on Junsu instead of the fear, and to not feel so alone.
“Yoochun-”
His voice was cut off, muffled as Yoochun sank onto the cushion before him, arms wrapping around his body and pulling him close. Junsu felt small, someone who must be protected, and it made Yoochun feel like he was needed, that he maybe could be that leader that they all wanted him to be. The one Junsu said he looked up to when the other really had no idea what was in Yoochun’s heart and mind. How much he wanted to run away.
At least for now, doing something made him feel better, kept he anxious energy at bay, and he needed Junsu to cling to him, to make him feel strong, to make him feel confident, to help him remember this feeling for the moment the Sorcerer would call for him and crush him into a worthless mockery of a Prince with merely a few words.
Junsu was still shaking as if he were cold, even as his body felt overly warm to the touch. His head rested lightly against Yoochun’s shoulder but his hands didn’t release his own arms to clutch at Yoochun instead. Yoochun tightened his arms in response, wanting Junsu to rely on him, wanting a different reaction, wanting something else than the hesitant question that floated up from under his chin.
“What...do you dream about at night?”
Surprised by the question, Yoochun’s hold loosened, leaning back slightly to try to look at the other, and now he found Junsu lifted his head to meet his eyes. It was still the strangely serious facade, the one without the hint of that carefree smile, missing the glint of happy content in his eyes.
Yoochun wasn’t sure how to respond, wondering if the question had something to do with the effects the Sorcerer’s presence was having on Junsu. If the black magic that froze and sucked out all light was making him dream twisted ugly things as well. The dark haunted look taking over Junsu’s whole visage was a slow confirmation echoing in his own heart.
“They’re just nightmares, Junsu, they can’t hurt you. And...I wont let him touch you. I promise.”
Junsu blinked at him slowly, already shaking his head, fingers clenching around his arms tighter. “No.” He spoke in a near whisper. “Your dreams.” He licked his lips almost nervously, eyes big and wide, holding his own unblinkingly. “I couldn’t sleep...I was watching over you...Please forgive my forwardness.” He didn’t look down or away even while speaking so boldly, even while confessing to watching Yoochun sleep.
But Yoochun felt a wash of warmth at the words, that Junsu cared enough to take care of him. When all others had left him, when all others refused to see the state of him, ignored the signs of black magic, Junsu had stayed, had braved the possibility that he could be hurt too.
Yoochun shook his head, realizing he had some confessions of his own to make. To let Junsu know he was needed even if everyone else gave up on him. “There’s nothing to forgive. You’re the only one I trust in my room at night anymore.”
Junsu stared at him. Something heavy, something unreadable clouding his eyes. Yoochun didn’t know how to interpret it, concern slipping through everything else to make him wary. It was almost as if Junsu was hiding something from him, the darkness in his expression easily mistaken for a hesitance born of some truth he seemed torn over whether to reveal or not. And there were too many words buried there for Yoochun to even guess.
“You were talking in your sleep.” Junsu’s voice was soft but flat, devoid of its usual life, empty even of the emotion that should be present if what he was holding back be made of fear or guilt. The something that Yoochun didn’t know growing bigger and more incomprehensible.
“What did I say?” He prompted, refusing to be swayed and drawn into more doubt by the strangeness of the other, firmly resisting the encompassing lure of darkness in his eyes. As much as they tormented him, he knew the nightmares were nothing more dangerous or substantial than any other dream. They weren’t actual magic but merely his own mind recreating and fearing all it couldn’t understand or control.
Junsu didn’t speak for a long time, didn’t hardly blink, just continually searching Yoochun’s face for something. Yoochun didn’t know what he was looking for, didn’t know what to offer but the assurance that none of it was real. Nothing was real save for the man he would never admit to dreaming about, the one who had secretly stolen into his life and heart in the strangest manner.
He’d become connected to Changmin through a curse no less, and he wasn’t about to tell Junsu such a thing, not when all his common sense told him any other person would see it wrong, tell him he was bewitched and bound by magic, not when his honor as the Crown Prince demanded he conform to social rank and class. And especially not when he wanted to keep Changmin secretly hidden away from anyone who may condemn him, those who had the power to hurt him, to dispose of a slave brazen enough to consort with royalty. Even if he be a slave of the Sorcerer. Even if Yoochun had been the one to go to him first.
He suddenly wanted to look away from Junsu’s piercing eyes. An urge to hide his thoughts and he suddenly felt exposed, as if they were screaming loud and clear for everyone to hear. And almost as if he’d heard him, like he understood what Yoochun was thinking, like he could even see what and who Yoochun had seen the previous day, Junsu spoke at last.
“A name. You said...a name.”
The words hung in the air between them. Meaningful. Much too meaningful. But Junsu couldn’t know the Sorcerer held a
slave. Couldn’t know that Yoochun had met with him as Yoochun himself hadn’t found out Changmin’s status until that moment. It was impossible, yet Junsu’s tone was knowing. Hard with certainty. As if he knew what that single name could mean.
Unless his dreams were not his own but rather intentionally caused by the Sorcerer who could also possibly implemented them to other means, such as letting other people of the court see them too. Letting them know where he’d gone and who
he’d smiled at while they remained trapped in the castle, abandoned by their Prince and left to fend for themselves, helpless under the influence of the Sorcerer. It would be so easy to make them doubt him. But Junsu couldn’t know. Yoochun wouldn’t let him.
“I...don’t remember.” He lied dully, trying to keep his voice steady. He didn’t know why he wanted to hide the truth from
even Junsu. Junsu who was his personal man, Junsu who trusted him, who always looked at him with something shining like admiration, Junsu who had stood so strong beside him even while others crumpled and faded before the rise of black magic. Junsu who was wavering before him now, and all because of some dreams. “They’re just dreams.” He repeated, willing Junsu to believe him. To trust him even as he lied to his face.
Junsu nodded slowly but his expression didn’t lighten, nor did his eyes clear. Yoochun’s heart started to sink. He sat back on his heels, suddenly feeling like the air was too thick, that the walls were closing in around him, slowly pushing and bending the air as they collapsed beneath dark shadows. He needed to get away. Everything was falling under the power of the Sorcerer, everyone around him was slowly being twisted and turned, taken away from him by fear and doubt and magic, and he couldn’t bear to see the way Junsu’s eyes were pointing out his lie.
He stood up abruptly, almost at the same moment that a knock sounded on the door, echoing hollowly just like his heart was doing in his chest. It was too late, he couldn’t run away, couldn’t escape the call of the black man who’d come back
to play with and threaten him yet again.
He wasn’t ready. Not after what had happened yesterday. Not ready to be led to the somber dark bedroom in which his father lay, the air already choked with death and smokey incense so strong it stung his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see the pallid color of his father’s face, skin sunken and yellowing, wrinkles standing out more sharply defined than they were under the light of the sun. The way each breath rattled his frame and hardly filled ribs which seemed flimsy and bony as they had never before.
He wasn’t ready to be escorted to the throne room by dark faced servants who’s backs seemed more bent and crippled than before. The hands pushing open heavy oaken doors thin and misshapen, spidery veins popping unhealthily. Each thing he laid his eyes on seemed to wither and distort before his very eyes, and he couldn’t pretend not to see, not with the way they all stared back at him. Eyes pleading and filled with so much darkness. He didn’t meet their eyes.
Not when he was sat in his father’s throne, the tops of heads in ranks spread more sparsely than usual as they bowed before his presence. Not out of respect as they would his father, but out of necessity. Because the Sorcerer stood at his right hand, tall and silent, impeccable in black robes that subdued and darkened the vast hall despite the grand windows reaching to the high ceiling.
It was a day he thought would never end. One plagued with boundaries and expectations more encompassing and imprisoning than those his father had ever placed on him. No moment to hardly think on his own as the Sorcerer breathed down his back, whispered things into his very mind, suggested things he repeated out like a broken doll, using his voice and commanding his body as if it were nothing but a tool, a familiar face for the people to look as they pretended they couldn’t see the shadow that slunk behind him in full sight.
The night was wrought with more restless dreams, fitful and broken by a pair of staring eyes from the blanket by the fire.
Junsu hadn’t spoken to him for the rest of the day, his smiles had returned brittle and tense, not reaching to warm his eyes. Yoochun tried not to see it, tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, but something within him was cracking as the other changed before his eyes.
He wasn’t even sure how he was going to survive much more of it or if he’d end up like his father once the Sorcerer was through with him, disposing of his puppet before he took over everything for real. He could only guess at what the man even wanted from him, why he continued to string him along and force him into his schemes and plans. Why keep up false pretenses that everyone could see through? Why pretend he held any power? Why not get rid of him and wield it personally when he knew no one could stop or challenge him?
Yoochun didn’t understand and he didn’t want to experience any more to find out. He wanted to hide, to run first and then to hide. To undo everything that had gone wrong, to return to his life, to have everything back to how it was. To erase the dark memories and pain. To see the sun and feel its warmth instead of its distance.
He missed it, craved for it, obsessed over it if only to forget and drive away the fear always creeping along his veins. And in his dreams the next night the sun visited him. A warmth that soothed his aching heart and caressed his whole being. A sun that kissed him like he were precious, golden and bright and so beautiful he felt filled until bursting, exploding glitters into passionate life. Bliss and freedom spilling from every pore, flinging himself to the far reaches of the wide open sky. Nothing to hold him in, nothing to overshadow or bind him. And it felt like something of heaven. A paradise hidden between nightmares and shrinking away from its touch even as he strained and cried, struggling to keep it within his grasp.
And he lost it to the darkness that met eyes startled awake in the middle of the night. His face wet with tears, a name on his lips and his heart in his throat. Because the last thing he’d seen was that of a body lying limp and broken amongst crushed golden grass. The eyes that had captured his soul staring glassy and empty, reflecting nothing but endless, endless blue sky.
The next day his father began screaming. A horrid torn sound from deep within his chest. Something that sent castle maids to huddle in the corners with hands over their ears and tears streaming down their faces. Something that made Junsu’s jaw clench tensely as his whole body flinched with each cry and scream, unable to look at the thrashing form on the bed just as Yoochun was unable to look at anything else. Junsu’s eyes were bright with a new fear that Yoochun knew must also reflect in his own eyes as much as he told himself to try and hide it lest it spring to life and become real.
He knew he had failed the moment Junsu’s hand found his, strong and sure despite the hesitancy in his step. Pulling him from the room and down the corridor which seemed to echo his father’s voice like a bodiless ghost wailing and crying its vengeance upon those who had wronged it. It rebounded off the walls, out through the main antechamber and out the doors, followed them all the way up the stairs to the wall of the west parapets.
He stood shaking, sound still echoing in his head even as he stared out at the city stretching before them like a painting all red tiles and white walls. He didn’t feel the arms around his waist or the head resting on his shoulder. He couldn’t understand the soft gentle words that flowed into his ear. He couldn’t see anything but the way the clouds sent dark shadowy patches across his city, the once gleaming bell tower of the city hall dull and silent. Dead and devoid of all glory. Like the voice of his father. And he shuddered silently within Junsu’s embrace, grief too great and raw to even express, just blinding and overwhelming in its reality.
Even here he could feel it. Even here dark staring eyes were piercing his skin and reading his heart. Even here that voice was slipping into his head, suffocating and twisting, warping his thoughts and bending him to a will that was not his own.
“Everything is dying.” He choked on dry gasps, tears refusing to come even as his chest heaved and his eyes burned.
It didn’t matter what Junsu said in reply because before him was nothing but darkness. Something even the sweetest of lies couldn’t banish or penetrate. And Yoochun couldn’t bear being alone in the dark, being so far away from everything he used to hold dear, everything he’d thought was his, and suddenly now being separated and cut off from the sweet emotional refuge he’d found with Changmin was almost painful.
There was nothing else that had remotely comforted him, and now that everything had crumbled to dust, there was nothing
to keep him from thinking of Changmin. Especially since his dreams had changed. They were no longer sweet comforting warmth with Changmin gently filling his senses and holding his hands. No, now it was visions of Changmin suffering, alone and helpless, calling for him silently. He would cry and beg for him to reach out a hand and save him, but to his utter dismay and despair, Yoochun could never move, couldn’t even offer him that single hand. He couldn’t do anything at all and it drove him crazy.
Dreams that once proved a better reality than the nightmare of reality soon were becoming just as dark and horrible. He
couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stay awake, and soon there was truly nothing to keep him there in the castle where his father worsened by day and the Sorcerer grew stronger and bolder each day that passed.
He soon wasn’t even leaving the castle at night, taking to standing atop one of the tallest turrets seemingly watching over the whole castle, the city, the country like a big predatory shadow. Larger than life and inky black blotting out the stars in the once soft velvet of a night turned sinister.
Everything was dying around him, life sucked daily from each person, hopes and happiness replaced by things of nightmares and Yoochun found himself nearing the brink of a vast ravenous abyss. He needed to get out, to the only place he knew that would be safe from the decay. In that field there was life, light, freedom. The fluttering of hearts, the warmth of hands, eyes that spoke to him in a way no one else did. Spoke without words because words weren’t even needed.
And he couldn’t resist anymore, couldn’t bear it, didn’t care that it was forbidden on so many levels. He’d already forgotten about the days he’d been tormented and tortured in that same field twice now. It didn't matter. He’d take it all again since he knew it wouldnt kill him, because he just had to see Changmin. He had to know that he was still alive. He couldn’t stand the uncertain anxiety of not knowing. He needed to escape, to find air that wasn’t toxic, to revive the quickly withering part within him that he didn't want to lose to darkness. He was scared he was about to fail, to break beneath the imposing force, that he would soon become another mindless slave of the Sorcerer. A slave in a position no better than Changmin.
Though he already knew with certainty, a dread lying heavily in his stomach, that he was shaping up to be even lower than that. A puppet king, one who betrayed his people and left them to suffer and fend alone against a poisonous threat while he tucked his tail between his legs and ran, hid in the golden field, fled to a single man he desired and put before all the rest of them. Cowardly. Pathetically. But too scared and desperate to care.
He wanted to avoid everything, to not be held responsible, to give into what felt safe, right, good. Just like everyone else was doing. No one dared stand up or oppose what was happening, him above all, as he saw no reason to fight for the title or kingdom the Sorcerer so obviously wanted. The man could take them from him whether he resisted or not, and he didn’t see the point in fighting. He didn't want to suffer any more for something he had never really even wanted.
He would let the man take it, and it chilled him to the bone that it seemed almost as if the Sorcerer already knew that very fact. Knew his heart so deeply and too well. That he had given him Changmin in exchange for a whole country, for power over lives of thousands, for the power to determine the fate of his land. Was Changmin really worth that much? Or was Yoochun just that low and worthless?
The answer fled before the hooves of his horse as he charged out at last away from the hopeless weeping that was his people, from the groaning ache that was his city, from the accusing eyes that was the single small form standing alone on the balustrade watching him run away. Golden hair which had long lost its enchantment shining faintly and fluttering in the breeze.
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