fic: The Long Exile {prologue}
Title: The Long Exile
Length: Chaptered, Prologue
Author: M_K Yujji
Rating: PG, likely to go up eventually
Genre: Drama/Angst/Fantasy
Disclaimer: Though real people are used as characters, this fic bears no resemblence to Real Life and these people are not owned by me.
Notes: Inspired by the Tri-Angle PV. Though there will be a loose resemblance to various mythical/religious figures and places, it's not really intentional.
Summary: When the lines between dreams and reality begin to blur...
~*~*~*~
The guards glared at him openly, hostility radiating from every pore.
In their eyes, he was a dirty changeling who'd brought death and destruction to their doorstep and nearly killed their king. They wanted to open his cell door and rip him to pieces with their bare hands, to hurt him as he'd hurt them.
He didn't blame them for that, though.
They couldn't possibly hate him more than he hated himself.
His eyes dropped to his hands but all he could see there was blood - his love's precious blood spilling over him, covering him, staining him - and he had to close his eyes against it.
Even that offered him no solace, though. The blind faith and calm acceptance that had finally penetrated the daemon bloodlust had never left his lover's face, not even when he'd been having his guts torn out.
Word had finally arrived the day before.
The king would live, the kingdom would regain its balance and its peace.
That knowledge did nothing to stop the swells of guilt and pain that had been washing over him, threatening to suffocate him.
Outside the window of the cell, the forest to the north burned still, as only spell fire could. It could be an aeon before it finally died away completely and let new forest grow.
The acrid smell made his sensitive nose itch.
“Youngwoong?”
The changeling glanced up to see his childhood tutor watching him sadly from the door. Since he'd been brought to this place, only Choikang had looked on Youngwoong with anything but pure hatred. It made him feel like hiding away. He didn't deserve the kindness or sadness the dragon-born held for him.
“He's.... healed enough for... the trial?” Not that there was any need for a trial. His guilt was a bright red stain seared forever into his retinas.
Choikang nodded, gravely. “They are waiting.”
Returning the nod, Youngwoong stood and drifted over before pausing. He swallowed thickly and a shadow of the shy, unsure boy he'd once been peeked out. “Will it hurt?”
Silence reigned as the tutor - no, advisor now that they'd all grown up - considered his question. “I don't know.”
Younwoong steeled himself and prepared to meet his fate, knowing that no matter how bad it was, it would never be as bad as he deserved.
~*~*~
“Well aren't you a pretty little boy?” The stooped, creepy old woman reached out and ruffled Jaejoong's hair in what was probably meant to be an affectionate gesture, but failed.
A few feet behind him in the dressing room, he could hear his sister muttering about being forced to babysit. Further outside, other shoppers were going about their business.
But for Jaejoong, the world seemed to have narrowed down to just himself and the strange woman. A woman who looked like she'd stepped off the page of a storybook, old and wrinkled with unnerving eyes that saw straight to his eight-year-old core.
“Pretty little Youngwoong.”
Jae's eyes widened and he stepped back at hearing the name that he had thought only existed in dreams. How could this wrinkled old woman know? No one knew about that name.
“How ... how do you know that?”
“Oh I know many things,” the woman cackled, a sound that could only make him think even more of the fairytales of his bedtime stories, of witches and bubbling cauldrons and haunted forests. He wanted to break and run, but he knew that would only make his sister angrier. And he couldn't make his feet move anyway.
“You want so many things, don't you, Youngwoong?” the old woman said, a smile crinkling her face. It might have been pleasant ... if one was in the habit of making friends of evil witches, considered stooped crones pleasant. “Poor child, feeling so lost and alone in this world, missing the friends of your heart and not knowing why.”
Damn his frozen feet. If only they'd let him escape, he didn't care how angry his sister was. Anything to get away from this woman and the crazy spell she'd seeming cast on him.
“Want to know your future?” the crone asked. He shook his head, for all the good it didn't do him.
“Someday you'll have everything you want and more, Youngwoong Jaejoong,” she said. “Better hold on to it tight this time, fight for what is yours, or it will all slip through your fingers once more.”
She ruffled his hair again with a grandmotherly chuckle and then she was gone.
He wasn't sure he hadn't just imagined it all - especially with the way his sister yelled at him for spacing out - but he never forgot it.
~*~*~
On to : Chapter 1
Length: Chaptered, Prologue
Author: M_K Yujji
Rating: PG, likely to go up eventually
Genre: Drama/Angst/Fantasy
Disclaimer: Though real people are used as characters, this fic bears no resemblence to Real Life and these people are not owned by me.
Notes: Inspired by the Tri-Angle PV. Though there will be a loose resemblance to various mythical/religious figures and places, it's not really intentional.
Summary: When the lines between dreams and reality begin to blur...
~*~*~*~
The guards glared at him openly, hostility radiating from every pore.
In their eyes, he was a dirty changeling who'd brought death and destruction to their doorstep and nearly killed their king. They wanted to open his cell door and rip him to pieces with their bare hands, to hurt him as he'd hurt them.
He didn't blame them for that, though.
They couldn't possibly hate him more than he hated himself.
His eyes dropped to his hands but all he could see there was blood - his love's precious blood spilling over him, covering him, staining him - and he had to close his eyes against it.
Even that offered him no solace, though. The blind faith and calm acceptance that had finally penetrated the daemon bloodlust had never left his lover's face, not even when he'd been having his guts torn out.
Word had finally arrived the day before.
The king would live, the kingdom would regain its balance and its peace.
That knowledge did nothing to stop the swells of guilt and pain that had been washing over him, threatening to suffocate him.
Outside the window of the cell, the forest to the north burned still, as only spell fire could. It could be an aeon before it finally died away completely and let new forest grow.
The acrid smell made his sensitive nose itch.
“Youngwoong?”
The changeling glanced up to see his childhood tutor watching him sadly from the door. Since he'd been brought to this place, only Choikang had looked on Youngwoong with anything but pure hatred. It made him feel like hiding away. He didn't deserve the kindness or sadness the dragon-born held for him.
“He's.... healed enough for... the trial?” Not that there was any need for a trial. His guilt was a bright red stain seared forever into his retinas.
Choikang nodded, gravely. “They are waiting.”
Returning the nod, Youngwoong stood and drifted over before pausing. He swallowed thickly and a shadow of the shy, unsure boy he'd once been peeked out. “Will it hurt?”
Silence reigned as the tutor - no, advisor now that they'd all grown up - considered his question. “I don't know.”
Younwoong steeled himself and prepared to meet his fate, knowing that no matter how bad it was, it would never be as bad as he deserved.
~*~*~
“Well aren't you a pretty little boy?” The stooped, creepy old woman reached out and ruffled Jaejoong's hair in what was probably meant to be an affectionate gesture, but failed.
A few feet behind him in the dressing room, he could hear his sister muttering about being forced to babysit. Further outside, other shoppers were going about their business.
But for Jaejoong, the world seemed to have narrowed down to just himself and the strange woman. A woman who looked like she'd stepped off the page of a storybook, old and wrinkled with unnerving eyes that saw straight to his eight-year-old core.
“Pretty little Youngwoong.”
Jae's eyes widened and he stepped back at hearing the name that he had thought only existed in dreams. How could this wrinkled old woman know? No one knew about that name.
“How ... how do you know that?”
“Oh I know many things,” the woman cackled, a sound that could only make him think even more of the fairytales of his bedtime stories, of witches and bubbling cauldrons and haunted forests. He wanted to break and run, but he knew that would only make his sister angrier. And he couldn't make his feet move anyway.
“You want so many things, don't you, Youngwoong?” the old woman said, a smile crinkling her face. It might have been pleasant ... if one was in the habit of making friends of evil witches, considered stooped crones pleasant. “Poor child, feeling so lost and alone in this world, missing the friends of your heart and not knowing why.”
Damn his frozen feet. If only they'd let him escape, he didn't care how angry his sister was. Anything to get away from this woman and the crazy spell she'd seeming cast on him.
“Want to know your future?” the crone asked. He shook his head, for all the good it didn't do him.
“Someday you'll have everything you want and more, Youngwoong Jaejoong,” she said. “Better hold on to it tight this time, fight for what is yours, or it will all slip through your fingers once more.”
She ruffled his hair again with a grandmotherly chuckle and then she was gone.
He wasn't sure he hadn't just imagined it all - especially with the way his sister yelled at him for spacing out - but he never forgot it.
~*~*~
On to : Chapter 1