Dragon Prince - Chapter One
Dragon Prince
Chapter One
The air smelled of mildew and of disuse. The shining crystal in his hand threw a shimmering light over the surface of the tunnels, the only source of light to be seen. It didn’t matter to him that he could hardly see a few feet in front of himself, he had memorized these tunnels when he was a boy, memorized the way they laid and how they ran through the ancient castle. With his personal guard, at that time simply his best friends, they had explored as much as a group of children dared. Thanks to those explorations and a sharp memory, he could find his way through the tunnels even without light.
It was also much easier to dodge his personal guard when in the tunnels. It had only taken a small distraction and a few steps to place him firmly in the network running through the walls. His guards would quickly figure out where he had gone, but by the time they had, he would be deep in the maze and they would have no real idea where he would go. Jaejoong would figure it out eventually, he knew. They had grown up with minds close enough to being alike that Jaejoong nearly always knew what he was thinking without speech being needed. That meant that he had a half an hour at the most to complete his task.
He turned a corner and walked right into a dead end. His fingers stretched out to the smooth stone, groping for something. At the edge where the walls joined, there was a small impression that was different than the rest. He pressed his finger there and a slight hiss sounded. The stone wall in front of him shuddered before smoothly sliding open. As soon as it was wide enough he stepped through and into a closet filled with racks of linen. Behind him the wall closed again as if it knew he was through.
The young man pulled a small black bag out of his pocket. He dropped the crystal into it, sealed it, and tucked it safely away again before carefully creeping to the door using just the light that flowed beneath the wooden surface. Footsteps approached and he waited until they were just outside the door and moving past it to begin counting. When he had reached fifty he lifted the latch and swung the door open.
It opened into a hall brightly illuminated by more of the crystals like the one in his pocket. They lined the edge of the ceiling in delicate fixtures casting their light off the white marble to light the area. He quickly shuffled down the hall, gathering the yards of fabric on his body the best he could so as to keep them quiet. It didn’t matter if he hid his face, they would know who he was simply by his dress if he was spotted. When he neared the end of the hall he paused, dropping his layers of brightly colored fine cloth and smoothing the slightly rumpled fabric.
Once everything was in place, he turned the corner and strode with purpose down the hall. At the end, were a set of strong double doors and four men standing outside it. They were joking and laughing about something but straightened immediately as he approached. As one they bent and offered him a bow of respect. “You shouldn’t be down here you-”
He waved his hand, unimpressed by the words of the guard. “I may go as I please.”
“O-of course,” one of the other guards replied nervous, as if he wasn’t sure of the truth of the words but didn’t want to argue.
“I have heard that you have taken a prisoner tonight. I will see him in my father’s stead,” he said firmly.
“But-”
“You argue with me? Would you like to replace the prisoner?”
“Of course not, forgive me,” the guard responded, bowing lowly. He gestured and two of the guards pressed their hands against either of the doors. At their touch there was a small click and the massive doors swung inwards.
The fourth guard gestured for him to follow and he did without giving the rest another glance. He was lead by an office and down a hall. From there cells began to appear, some filled with all sorts of people but most empty. At the end of the long hallway of cells there was another door, heavily guarded by several men. As they approached, the men look startled before regaining their composure. They didn’t bow as he approached, to do so would distract them from their task.
The guard that was leading him exchanged a few short words with the men at the door and there was a nod. Two of the guards placed their hands on the door and it slid open to reveal its contents. On the far side of the cell, a few paces ahead of him, was a man. His arms were chained to the wall at an awkward angle away from his body, causing him to put uncomfortable pressure on his shoulders. His ankles were chained with legs spread to the wall as well. A silver collar around his neck nearly covered the entire surface and chains crisscrossed the rest of his body.
It would have been too much for any ordinary prisoner, certainly overkill but, the man chained in the cell was no ordinary prisoner, he was a gypsy and that changed things. Even the youngest child knew that a gypsy could never be trusted and they were nearly impossible to contain.
“Leave us,” the brightly robed man told the guards as he stepped into the room. There was no argument this time as the guards silently turned and the door slid closed behind them. He took a step closer to the young man chained on the wall. It was clear that he was no older than twenty one summers or so, the same as the man who was cautiously approaching him.
His head hung down, black hair that would fall just beyond his shoulders, messed very likely from struggle. His clothes were the bright colors and typical style of a gypsy, loose pants and several layers of loose fabric over the chest all torn and stained from the struggle to capture him. A sash was tied around his waist that had at one time been a sky blue but was now stained with red, presumably the man’s own blood. There was muscle there, or hints of it, displayed through tears in fabric that hinted at strength.
His head lifted and his eyes focused on the man in front of him, revealing irises that were pure black. “Come to gloat over your prize?” he snarled.
“I have never seen a gypsy up close,” was the reply. The young man stepped closer to the chained gypsy. “What was your talent?” he asked. Every gypsy had to have a listed talent in order to be permitted into the City and even then they were only allowed in on special occasions.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the gypsy responded with a sneer.
He hummed in response and reached for the sash, letting the smooth fabric of the cleaner parts slip through his fingers. “I guess I can’t really blame you for being like that. I would probably be if I was chained to a wall. You should have made a better choice you know. Then you wouldn’t be here. What is it like being a gypsy?”
The gypsy was spared the chance to respond as a great crash sounded from just inside the cell. The man spun just in time to see a smooth circle of the ceiling settle on the floor and three men drop down from the new hole into the room. Judging from their clothing they were gypsies as well. One immediately moved to the door and began to coat the edges with some sort of green liquid from a jar.
Not for the first time that night, he wished that his festival clothes contained his sword or some other weaponry, instead of leaving him defenseless and impeding his movements. By the time he had swung around to try and defend himself, one of the men had already captured him. His arm was twisted behind his back and a scarf with something solid running through it was hooked around his neck.
“Well what do we have here?” the man who held him captive said lightly. His captive remained silent, waiting for the moment to see what would come to pass.
“A noble of some sorts. A pretty big one if all that gold thread is any clue,” replied the man at the door, as he smeared the last bit of the substance around the edge of it. There was pounding from the other side, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything. “There it won’t hold long,” he said, slipping the jar back into the small pouch at his waist.
The third man smiled and twirled a small piece of metal in his fingers. “I’ll have you out of there in no time,” he told the gypsy as he moved to his arm. He inserted the metal into the key hole and began working it back and forth and around.
“You are all fools,” the chained gypsy snarled.
“Youngsaeng we come to save you and this is the thanks we get?” the one holding the man captive asked amused.
“You all decided to waltz into the palace to rescue me when I could have easily gotten out myself. Hyungjoon move,” Youngsaeng snarled. With a startled noise the man working at the chains scampered backward just in time to escape an arm jerking forward sharply, ripping it free from the wall. It was followed closely by the other arm. Once they were free, the rest of the chains followed, and Youngsaeng stepped free as they clattered to the ground. There were several small clicks and the manacles around his wrists and ankles clattered to the floor. His hand rose to the silver collar at his neck and he tore the chain that still tethered it to the wall from it. It clattered to the ground and he dropped his hand leaving the collar where it was.
“Jungmin,” the man that was standing by the door said. “What do you plan to do with him,” he gestured to the captive man.
“Well he looks important,” Jungmin replied, twisting the man’s arm a little bit further to keep him from moving. “Maybe we should take him and use him as leverage in case they try to stop us.”
“That could work,” Hyungjoon agreed, twirling the small metal piece still in his hand.
“Kyujong, give Youngsaeng the jar,” Jungmin ordered. The man standing by the door, nodded and he reached into the pouch. From it he removed a jar of clear liquid. He tossed it to Youngsaeng who caught it.
Quickly he pulled out the stopper and dumped the contents onto the floor. Then he knelt and swirled a finger through the puddle of liquid. It shimmered brightly for a moment before changing to pure black. “Go,” Youngsaeng ordered. “It won’t stay open for long.”
Hyungjoon nodded and stepped onto the puddle. He stood there for a moment before sliding down and through the liquid until his entire body had disappeared. Jungmin, with his silent captive still firmly held, pushed them both forward until they were standing in the puddle as well.
He could feel it starting at his toes and working up his body. It was cool as if it was water but he was certain he wasn’t getting wet. He had no idea what it was that was engulfing him and causing him to slide into what was supposed to be a solid surface. Then it clicked. This was something that gypsies were not supposed to possess. Something that they had never been allowed to have because of the damage they would create with it.
If he had any doubts about letting them take him, they vanished at that moment. He needed to find out how they had come upon this and how many others had this ability. This information could be vital to the survival of the kingdom let alone the very world. This ability was something only a very select few should ever posses and certainly never any people of the caliber of a gypsy. “Magic,” he muttered and the magic slid up his neck then up and over his head, consuming him.
‡†‡†‡†‡†‡
Emerging from the ground was significantly different then being sucked into it had been. Instead of the coolness enveloping him he felt it slowly drain away from him. For a moment he contemplated breaking free from his captors hold. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know how to. He had spent years training with his personal guard and he had gotten out of much more complicated holds in the past. However it was best, he reasoned, to stay in a hold he was certain he could get out of, then to be put in a situation where he could end up in one that he couldn’t escape from or worse.
The moment they had fully risen, it was as if sound returned and there was commotion everywhere. People were scrambling, as if somewhat startled to see them. “Jungmin!” a woman who appeared to be older and was dressed in more jewelry and colors then he had ever seen on a person yelled as she approached. “What have you done?!”
“Well you see,” Hyungjoon began. A hand snapped out and she fixed her fingers firmly on his ear. A twist had him yelping and following her hand with his head.
“I wasn’t asking you, although I am sure that you had a part in this plan,” she snapped.
“We had to get Youngsaeng,” Jungmin replied quickly.
“You had to do no such thing! I ought to,” she stopped her tirade short as two others slid up from the ground beside them. Hyungjoon’s ear was released and he clutched it wincing as he scrambled back out of her range.
“Oh dear, Youngsaeng are you alright?” she asked as she moved over and began running her hands over his body.
He tolerated it well, allowing her to feel for anything and mutter to herself as she did. “I’m fine.”
She ignored him and continued along her way not stopping until she was satisfied. “Kyujong, take him to get cleaned up.” The young man nodded at her words, offering Youngsaeng his support and the pair made their way to one of the wagons. “And where,” she said loudly as she spun to face Jungmin with his captive and Hyungjoon who had been trying to sneak away, “do you think you are going?”
“Uh nowhere?” Hyungjoon said hesitantly.
“That’s right nowhere. Of all of the idiotic ideas, you have ever gotten into your head, you decide to run off and break into the Royal Castle on an idiotic rescue mission,” she said angrily. It was clear that she was just working up to a true scolding.
“We had to save him. Besides we will get away just fine,” Jungmin pleaded. “We took one of the nobles as a hostage.”
Her eyes fell on the man in his arms as if she had just seen him for the first time. She gasped loudly and her eyes widened. “Park Jungmin!” she exclaimed sharply. “That is not just any noble. That is Kim Hyunjoong, the Dragon Prince.”
Chapter Two
Masterlist
AN: Well it is finally here. I hope this was worth the wait for all of you. I will probably be updating this on a weekly basis. I'm fairly excited about this because this is a complete AU so it will be a chance to fully explore and create my own world. Plus SS501 is just so amazingly fun and there is not enough written about them.
Chapter One
The air smelled of mildew and of disuse. The shining crystal in his hand threw a shimmering light over the surface of the tunnels, the only source of light to be seen. It didn’t matter to him that he could hardly see a few feet in front of himself, he had memorized these tunnels when he was a boy, memorized the way they laid and how they ran through the ancient castle. With his personal guard, at that time simply his best friends, they had explored as much as a group of children dared. Thanks to those explorations and a sharp memory, he could find his way through the tunnels even without light.
It was also much easier to dodge his personal guard when in the tunnels. It had only taken a small distraction and a few steps to place him firmly in the network running through the walls. His guards would quickly figure out where he had gone, but by the time they had, he would be deep in the maze and they would have no real idea where he would go. Jaejoong would figure it out eventually, he knew. They had grown up with minds close enough to being alike that Jaejoong nearly always knew what he was thinking without speech being needed. That meant that he had a half an hour at the most to complete his task.
He turned a corner and walked right into a dead end. His fingers stretched out to the smooth stone, groping for something. At the edge where the walls joined, there was a small impression that was different than the rest. He pressed his finger there and a slight hiss sounded. The stone wall in front of him shuddered before smoothly sliding open. As soon as it was wide enough he stepped through and into a closet filled with racks of linen. Behind him the wall closed again as if it knew he was through.
The young man pulled a small black bag out of his pocket. He dropped the crystal into it, sealed it, and tucked it safely away again before carefully creeping to the door using just the light that flowed beneath the wooden surface. Footsteps approached and he waited until they were just outside the door and moving past it to begin counting. When he had reached fifty he lifted the latch and swung the door open.
It opened into a hall brightly illuminated by more of the crystals like the one in his pocket. They lined the edge of the ceiling in delicate fixtures casting their light off the white marble to light the area. He quickly shuffled down the hall, gathering the yards of fabric on his body the best he could so as to keep them quiet. It didn’t matter if he hid his face, they would know who he was simply by his dress if he was spotted. When he neared the end of the hall he paused, dropping his layers of brightly colored fine cloth and smoothing the slightly rumpled fabric.
Once everything was in place, he turned the corner and strode with purpose down the hall. At the end, were a set of strong double doors and four men standing outside it. They were joking and laughing about something but straightened immediately as he approached. As one they bent and offered him a bow of respect. “You shouldn’t be down here you-”
He waved his hand, unimpressed by the words of the guard. “I may go as I please.”
“O-of course,” one of the other guards replied nervous, as if he wasn’t sure of the truth of the words but didn’t want to argue.
“I have heard that you have taken a prisoner tonight. I will see him in my father’s stead,” he said firmly.
“But-”
“You argue with me? Would you like to replace the prisoner?”
“Of course not, forgive me,” the guard responded, bowing lowly. He gestured and two of the guards pressed their hands against either of the doors. At their touch there was a small click and the massive doors swung inwards.
The fourth guard gestured for him to follow and he did without giving the rest another glance. He was lead by an office and down a hall. From there cells began to appear, some filled with all sorts of people but most empty. At the end of the long hallway of cells there was another door, heavily guarded by several men. As they approached, the men look startled before regaining their composure. They didn’t bow as he approached, to do so would distract them from their task.
The guard that was leading him exchanged a few short words with the men at the door and there was a nod. Two of the guards placed their hands on the door and it slid open to reveal its contents. On the far side of the cell, a few paces ahead of him, was a man. His arms were chained to the wall at an awkward angle away from his body, causing him to put uncomfortable pressure on his shoulders. His ankles were chained with legs spread to the wall as well. A silver collar around his neck nearly covered the entire surface and chains crisscrossed the rest of his body.
It would have been too much for any ordinary prisoner, certainly overkill but, the man chained in the cell was no ordinary prisoner, he was a gypsy and that changed things. Even the youngest child knew that a gypsy could never be trusted and they were nearly impossible to contain.
“Leave us,” the brightly robed man told the guards as he stepped into the room. There was no argument this time as the guards silently turned and the door slid closed behind them. He took a step closer to the young man chained on the wall. It was clear that he was no older than twenty one summers or so, the same as the man who was cautiously approaching him.
His head hung down, black hair that would fall just beyond his shoulders, messed very likely from struggle. His clothes were the bright colors and typical style of a gypsy, loose pants and several layers of loose fabric over the chest all torn and stained from the struggle to capture him. A sash was tied around his waist that had at one time been a sky blue but was now stained with red, presumably the man’s own blood. There was muscle there, or hints of it, displayed through tears in fabric that hinted at strength.
His head lifted and his eyes focused on the man in front of him, revealing irises that were pure black. “Come to gloat over your prize?” he snarled.
“I have never seen a gypsy up close,” was the reply. The young man stepped closer to the chained gypsy. “What was your talent?” he asked. Every gypsy had to have a listed talent in order to be permitted into the City and even then they were only allowed in on special occasions.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the gypsy responded with a sneer.
He hummed in response and reached for the sash, letting the smooth fabric of the cleaner parts slip through his fingers. “I guess I can’t really blame you for being like that. I would probably be if I was chained to a wall. You should have made a better choice you know. Then you wouldn’t be here. What is it like being a gypsy?”
The gypsy was spared the chance to respond as a great crash sounded from just inside the cell. The man spun just in time to see a smooth circle of the ceiling settle on the floor and three men drop down from the new hole into the room. Judging from their clothing they were gypsies as well. One immediately moved to the door and began to coat the edges with some sort of green liquid from a jar.
Not for the first time that night, he wished that his festival clothes contained his sword or some other weaponry, instead of leaving him defenseless and impeding his movements. By the time he had swung around to try and defend himself, one of the men had already captured him. His arm was twisted behind his back and a scarf with something solid running through it was hooked around his neck.
“Well what do we have here?” the man who held him captive said lightly. His captive remained silent, waiting for the moment to see what would come to pass.
“A noble of some sorts. A pretty big one if all that gold thread is any clue,” replied the man at the door, as he smeared the last bit of the substance around the edge of it. There was pounding from the other side, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything. “There it won’t hold long,” he said, slipping the jar back into the small pouch at his waist.
The third man smiled and twirled a small piece of metal in his fingers. “I’ll have you out of there in no time,” he told the gypsy as he moved to his arm. He inserted the metal into the key hole and began working it back and forth and around.
“You are all fools,” the chained gypsy snarled.
“Youngsaeng we come to save you and this is the thanks we get?” the one holding the man captive asked amused.
“You all decided to waltz into the palace to rescue me when I could have easily gotten out myself. Hyungjoon move,” Youngsaeng snarled. With a startled noise the man working at the chains scampered backward just in time to escape an arm jerking forward sharply, ripping it free from the wall. It was followed closely by the other arm. Once they were free, the rest of the chains followed, and Youngsaeng stepped free as they clattered to the ground. There were several small clicks and the manacles around his wrists and ankles clattered to the floor. His hand rose to the silver collar at his neck and he tore the chain that still tethered it to the wall from it. It clattered to the ground and he dropped his hand leaving the collar where it was.
“Jungmin,” the man that was standing by the door said. “What do you plan to do with him,” he gestured to the captive man.
“Well he looks important,” Jungmin replied, twisting the man’s arm a little bit further to keep him from moving. “Maybe we should take him and use him as leverage in case they try to stop us.”
“That could work,” Hyungjoon agreed, twirling the small metal piece still in his hand.
“Kyujong, give Youngsaeng the jar,” Jungmin ordered. The man standing by the door, nodded and he reached into the pouch. From it he removed a jar of clear liquid. He tossed it to Youngsaeng who caught it.
Quickly he pulled out the stopper and dumped the contents onto the floor. Then he knelt and swirled a finger through the puddle of liquid. It shimmered brightly for a moment before changing to pure black. “Go,” Youngsaeng ordered. “It won’t stay open for long.”
Hyungjoon nodded and stepped onto the puddle. He stood there for a moment before sliding down and through the liquid until his entire body had disappeared. Jungmin, with his silent captive still firmly held, pushed them both forward until they were standing in the puddle as well.
He could feel it starting at his toes and working up his body. It was cool as if it was water but he was certain he wasn’t getting wet. He had no idea what it was that was engulfing him and causing him to slide into what was supposed to be a solid surface. Then it clicked. This was something that gypsies were not supposed to possess. Something that they had never been allowed to have because of the damage they would create with it.
If he had any doubts about letting them take him, they vanished at that moment. He needed to find out how they had come upon this and how many others had this ability. This information could be vital to the survival of the kingdom let alone the very world. This ability was something only a very select few should ever posses and certainly never any people of the caliber of a gypsy. “Magic,” he muttered and the magic slid up his neck then up and over his head, consuming him.
‡†‡†‡†‡†‡
Emerging from the ground was significantly different then being sucked into it had been. Instead of the coolness enveloping him he felt it slowly drain away from him. For a moment he contemplated breaking free from his captors hold. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know how to. He had spent years training with his personal guard and he had gotten out of much more complicated holds in the past. However it was best, he reasoned, to stay in a hold he was certain he could get out of, then to be put in a situation where he could end up in one that he couldn’t escape from or worse.
The moment they had fully risen, it was as if sound returned and there was commotion everywhere. People were scrambling, as if somewhat startled to see them. “Jungmin!” a woman who appeared to be older and was dressed in more jewelry and colors then he had ever seen on a person yelled as she approached. “What have you done?!”
“Well you see,” Hyungjoon began. A hand snapped out and she fixed her fingers firmly on his ear. A twist had him yelping and following her hand with his head.
“I wasn’t asking you, although I am sure that you had a part in this plan,” she snapped.
“We had to get Youngsaeng,” Jungmin replied quickly.
“You had to do no such thing! I ought to,” she stopped her tirade short as two others slid up from the ground beside them. Hyungjoon’s ear was released and he clutched it wincing as he scrambled back out of her range.
“Oh dear, Youngsaeng are you alright?” she asked as she moved over and began running her hands over his body.
He tolerated it well, allowing her to feel for anything and mutter to herself as she did. “I’m fine.”
She ignored him and continued along her way not stopping until she was satisfied. “Kyujong, take him to get cleaned up.” The young man nodded at her words, offering Youngsaeng his support and the pair made their way to one of the wagons. “And where,” she said loudly as she spun to face Jungmin with his captive and Hyungjoon who had been trying to sneak away, “do you think you are going?”
“Uh nowhere?” Hyungjoon said hesitantly.
“That’s right nowhere. Of all of the idiotic ideas, you have ever gotten into your head, you decide to run off and break into the Royal Castle on an idiotic rescue mission,” she said angrily. It was clear that she was just working up to a true scolding.
“We had to save him. Besides we will get away just fine,” Jungmin pleaded. “We took one of the nobles as a hostage.”
Her eyes fell on the man in his arms as if she had just seen him for the first time. She gasped loudly and her eyes widened. “Park Jungmin!” she exclaimed sharply. “That is not just any noble. That is Kim Hyunjoong, the Dragon Prince.”
Chapter Two
Masterlist
AN: Well it is finally here. I hope this was worth the wait for all of you. I will probably be updating this on a weekly basis. I'm fairly excited about this because this is a complete AU so it will be a chance to fully explore and create my own world. Plus SS501 is just so amazingly fun and there is not enough written about them.