[Fic] Ballad of the Moon : 7
Title: Ballad of the Moon
Pairing: Jaemin, Yoomin
Length: Chapter 7/?
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.
Previous Chapters: one | two | three | four | five | six
A/N: :S not satisfied with this chap either lol, but this should explain a few things ~
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Everything had happened too fast.
The lingering energy of the Crown Prince had hardly just slipped out of range as he crossed the river marking the edge of their territory. It had been just heartbeats since Changmin had suddenly bucked and twisted from out of his grasp only to fall upon the floor, curling around himself and clutching at his chest as if in pain. Mere seconds were all he had to look down in shock at the man before his father burst through the door in a raging flurry.
The first slap was unexpected, knocked him forcefully sideways into the table sending ceramic shattering upon the floor as liquids spilled across the table top, powders exploding with small puffs of smoke as they mixed with each other.
Jaejoong blinked the black out of his vision, head reeling slightly from the force of the blow. He lay half spread across the surface, stunned, coughing weakly as he inhaled the dusty powder blown into the air about him.
Catching his breath, he slowly pushed himself upright, ribs aching from where they’d connected with the hard edge of polished wood. He stood up slowly, palms resting flat on the table to steady himself as he caught his breath, vision clearing with each passing second. A fuzzy sort of coldness settled in his stomach as he slowly turned back around to face his father. An almost palpable heaviness, something born of previous learning, an already calmly accepted expectation pressing against his chest.
He turned about to see his father tall and rigid, head cocked nonchalantly to one side as he meticulously, ever so slowly with sure purposeful fingers rotated the large iron wrought ring circling his middle finger around until the sharp cut edges of the diamond patterns inlaid there were aligned with his palm.
He took another leisurely moment to admire the ring, flexing his fingers experimentally, and Jaejoong braced himself knowing only too well what would come next.
The second slap, though expected, still caught him by surprise with the sheer strength behind it. His head flew to the side as his body rocked against the side of the table. Although he managed to keep his feet beneath him, his cheek burned fiercely from where the ring had sliced deeply into and across his skin. He realized the small cry of pain must have been his own as Changmin was incapable of sound. Warm blood ran down his cheek.
He didn’t move. Head bowed and eyes lowered submissively, staring blankly at the air between him and the dark wooden floor. He couldn’t hear anything save the heavy gasping breaths coming from Changmin somewhere on the floor behind him.
He didn’t need to look to know the man must still be lying pathetically on the floor. He couldn’t clear his head, thoughts a jumble as instead of puzzling over what exactly had gone wrong with the spell, what could have possibly affected Changmin or why that was a bad thing, he could only think that Changmin was probably in too much pain to have seen what just transpired before him.
All thought left his mind as his father moved to stand directly before him, a sharp disapproving click of his tongue, a low murmur of disgust coloring the anger in his voice into an almost physical sting of words against his ears.
“Careless. Incompetent brat. What have you done?”
Jaejoong didn’t dare reply. Trying to explain himself was out of the question, regardless of if it had been his mistake or not. Either way his spell had somehow gone wrong, and he was the only one fully responsible.
He bowed his head further, silent as his father fumed dangerously, the suffocating dark displeasure radiating from him was nearly nauseating, and Jaejoong knew from experience that breathing the bad energy too deeply would result in his stomach twisting inside out.
Each word was hissed out and Jaejoong flinched as they cut his ears like tiny razors. “Keep him alive at all costs.”
Jaejoong didn’t let his confusion show, but found himself caught on the strange command. What did his father mean by that?
He chanced a glance at the man as he felt his burning attention was no longer focused on him. His father was staring instead at Changmin, who looked to be in great pain, panting heavily, sweat collected on his face which was drained of all color. His eyes were tightly shut.
“His health is essential.” He mused quietly, almost as if to himself, and Jaejoong simply watched furtively beneath his bangs as his father continued to scrutinize Changmin with avid interest.
He wondered not for the first time what other motives and hidden plans his father may have concerning their secret prince, and felt displeasure rise like bile in his throat as his father’s eyes gleamed with something like greed, bordering on desire. He’d seen the look too many times to not be able to recognize it, and he swallowed thickly as he quickly looked away.
The moment ended after much too long as his father finally whirled on him again. Jaejoong shrank back reflexively, a feeling of worthlessness coiling in the pit of his stomach at the natural reaction. He was nothing compared to his father...they both knew his father could take away everything, cripple him in the blink of an eye.
He wasn’t sure if he resented this fact or not, as he’d always just accepted it as the way things were. He’d been awed and scared time and time again when he was young by the ferocity and wildness of his father’s magic and spells. The way he could lure anything and capture it in his power, the way he could destroy even the strongest things.
He wasn’t sure if he could ever surpass his father or not in skill, not with his limited knowledge and the rigid strict control his father held over his education. And he doubted his father would ever completely give him his trust or teach him everything of value. Not when Jaejoong had such limitless power. And especially not when he still made such dangerous mistakes such as today.
Therefore it would be his own fault if his father should punish him by taking it away from him like he’d done so many times before, blocking and binding his energy so that he couldn’t perform even the smallest incantation. Nothing could be worse than making him weak, no more than an empty powerless human. It frustrated him to no end that he still couldn’t figure out how his father implemented the binding nor how to rid himself of it.
His father had first done it years ago when he’d foolishly believed himself smarter and more gifted than his own father. He had wanted to prove himself, test himself, and it had earned him nothing but cold displeasure, learning quickly enough just how easily he could loose everything to his father’s whims.
It was at that time he’d come to realize just how powerful his father was, how much he had to learn, just how deeply he was in the dark. Endless power and energy wasn’t enough if he didn’t know how to harness or direct it. And his father took advantage of that fact, painfully slow and careful in revealing secrets, keeping control over his development process and teaching him discipline and discretion above all else. Reminding him time and time again his place.
Times like this today, where things went wrong, only seemed to prove to his father his immaturity, inadept and still losing control. He didn’t even need to say anything, the justified anger showing it all. It was one reason why he never gained such things as approval or recognition, as his father merely took it for granted he would perform exactly as he’d been taught. It also meant there was never disappointment either, since his father didn’t expect anything better from him in the first place.
His father turned away from him dismissively. “You’re to do nothing but monitor him.” He commanded. “I'll decide what to do with you after this mistake is remedied.”
Jaejoong murmured he understood, bowing to his father’s back. “And the Crown Prince?” He dared to whisper.
His father’s displeasure crackled with pure energy like electricity along his veins. His body stiffened slightly at the uncomfortable pain.
“I trust you to remember the importance of this plan. What trouble it should cause me to start over. And should all be for naught, what that will mean for you.”
The threat hung in the air as Jaejoong sunk into a deeper bow, nearly grovelling before him, useless apologies falling from numb lips even after his father had swept out of the door, cloak swirling in the wind.
He knew only too well. If he ended up being the cause of two of his father’s plans to fall through...plans that had been painstakingly calculated and formed over not months but years. He clenched his fists.
Even though he’d done half of the work and nearly all the actual tests, dirtying his hands and expending irreplaceable amounts of energy and magic, leaving countless bodies like soulless husks, rotted and shredded behind.
Although in the end, his father held all the real power, directed it all, hovered over his every move and incantation, taught him the spells and disclosed only the barest knowledge possible. He was merely a pawn, existing for his father to exploit and direct, kept in the dark so that he could do nothing but perfect and focus on the single new spell he was allowed to perform.
He was sure his father would bind his powers this time as well. It was only a question of when...had Changmin somehow not been implicated, he was sure he’d already be drained and weak, body flimsy and light as air, only able to hang around at the edge of his father’s raging darkness. He shuddered slightly.
The spell he’d worked on for years. The sweat he’d shed, the energy lost, the icy wall protecting himself thickening with each failure. Over and over again, more than a handful of slaves dying with their hearts shriveling and twisting disgustingly within their chests. Over and over again, reprimands and blows falling freely from his father. Until he’d finally perfected it.
Only for it to go wrong now at the very moment he’d finally used it for what his father seemed to have created it for. Complete and total control over a man’s life. The power to stop his heart, the power to cause endless torture. The power to break a man and force him to give them whatever they asked.
All for power...that man being the next ruler of the kingdom hardly daunting his father. The ultimate prize was hardly far off if they completed this step correctly. He knew his father wouldn’t let anything get in his way. Not until he had the Crown Prince wrapped securely around his finger, had the castle in the palm of his hand, had the people bowing before him. Unchallenged power, endless resources.
And this was why he didn’t understand his father’s last command. Why...what was so important about Changmin that he’d come before the Crown Prince? It was disconcerting, confusing. Why didn’t his father want Changmin harmed? He’d never been one to regulate or even care about inflicting pain and treating living humans as mere objects. It was the first time he could ever remember his father ever caring whether a slave died or lived, especially when harmed by their own magic.
He couldn’t deny that he disliked the sudden show of interest, the look his father had given Changmin, as if he was something valuable if not desirable. He pushed away the thought that the reason he had an aversion to such feelings was because they were not foreign to him recently either.
However, this same interest meant that his father ordered him to watch over Changmin, to keep him alive, and thus saved him from finding an excuse to tend to Changmin or even save him from inevitable death from the curse. Even so, he didn’t want Changmin to be important. He wanted him to remain the worthless, forgotten prince. He’d been thrown away, and Jaejoong was determined no one would be allowed to try and take him back again.
Soft panting breaths from said man slowly permeated his dazed brain, tugging him back to the present moment. He turned quickly, stepping over the smoldering broken mess on the floor to crouch down beside the trembling body.
He could feel it suddenly now, the tickling sensation that had been pricking the edges of his consciousness now fully open to nearly bursting energy, heat radiating in waves from Changmin. It was so thick and hot he could almost literally feel it warming his own skin. But it was nothing more than his energy, blinding in its intensity, flaring with an uncontrolled wildness.
He reached out to feel Changmin’s mind, ready to take control over him like he had so many times, but the second he connected to him, the small tentative touch was burned painfully into nothing, a white flash branding his mind and taking his breath momentarily away.
Gasping, he pulled away quickly, shocked to feel the barrier that had shut him out. He couldn’t reach him through the searing energy gone wild, dancing about him like a protective invisible shield.
He focused all his attention on it, puzzling over what it could possibly be. Changmin’s innate powers seemed to have reacted naturally, defensively, but dangerous in their basic primitiveness. He let his own powers flit along it carefully, pulling back every time it flared and lashed out with fiery hands.
No, not a shield. It was simply Changmin’s energy, roaring and raging in an attempt to leap from his very body. It seemed blind, attacking anything that came near it, burning fire to his continued hesitant fleeting touches, struggling and failing to attack something dark that seemed buried deep within its center.
And it really shouldn’t be there. Couldn’t be... He hadn’t allowed for the incantation to include anyone but the Crown Prince. It was nearly impossible, but he caught a clear glimpse of the dark knot of foul energy, a small black hole greedily sucking on his life source, even as his whole being rejected and lashed out in response.
Jaejoong frowned in concentration. It was clearly obvious what had happened, but he wasn’t sure how. Somehow, a part of the curse had been transferred to Changmin. Something had gone wrong. He supposed it was possible that the power of his royal energy could have attracted and absorbed some of the magic as it made its way towards Prince Yoochun.
Although only half-blood, Changmin’s royal force was unnaturally strong, and it only made sense that it could have disturbed the spell, infected it, knocked it off course. A gush of blinding gold sucking the negative energy away from the target Prince and into Changmin instead.
Heart bruising with each painful beat, as he’d somehow absorbed the curse that wasn’t meant for nor even directed at him. How? Why?
Even though he wasn’t sure how it had happened, he was starting to realize he should have seen it coming. They were too similar in energies. The bright power of royal blood, the opposite force that drew the curse irretrievably into its depths. He should have known Changmin would be just as susceptible under the circumstances. But Changmin shouldn’t have even been there... was supposed to be somewhere else, locked safely away.
He could never explain to his father the reason he had convinced himself with to allow Changmin freedom, within limits. He was sure the binding magic he’d performed would keep Changmin from leaving the open grassland, and he trusted it enough to have left Changmin’s door unlocked time and time again. And then there had been the long hours spent cloaked and hidden with magic, watching, always watching, with the wind humming dimly in his ears as Changmin soaked up the sun.
He never seemed to notice Jaejoong’s presence, or if he had he chose to ignore him. And Jaejoong didn’t really mind. He was content to study him secretly, getting to know the slope of his shoulders, the line of his long legs, the curve of a cheek turned from him, and the depth of those big brown eyes. Eyes that held so many secrets, so many unspoken words.
Opening his eyes slowly, the brightness of Changmin’s energy slowly faded like a print left behind his eyes. Before him lay Changmin, looking suddenly dead, skin a pale grey in the dim light of the room, all light from within snuffed out. Sweat glistened on his temples as he clutched at his chest with both hands.
Jaejoong didn’t need any more confirmation than the essence of his curse he’d felt deep within Changmin, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out. Just to check.
Changmin’s skin burned to the touch. Not the heat of his power, but the burn of a body wracked by fever, his whole body flinching as Jaejoong’s no doubt icy hands circled his wrists.
Eyelids slowly peeled open. The brown depths were murky and hazed over with pain, unfocused even as he searched languidly for Jaejoong’s face. Their eyes met briefly, but Changmin didn’t seem to see him, gaze sliding away and rolling sightlessly to one side as he moaned silently.
His wrists were limp and powerless in his hands, his pulse fluttering weakly against where his fingers pressed. He didn’t try to fight him off even as he clenched his fingers more firmly, tightening the grip as if trying to elicit some sort of response. Changmin didn’t seem to feel it, body only jerking slightly with each cruel twist of his heart.
Jaejoong frowned, hating the weakness that had stolen into Changmin, taking place of all that should have been there. He looked so sickly, despondent and weak. His eyes narrowed, feeling irrationally angry at how easily Changmin had fallen victim, how quickly he’d given in and stopped fighting.
He didn’t care that Changmin’s energy was still valiantly struggling against the curse, everything he saw before his eyes was screaming defeat, submitting to it, and he swallowed down disappointment as he slowly released Changmin’s wrists. His arms fell limply to his sides, and Jaejoong watched him for a long moment.
After being forced back by the power of Changmin’s burning energy, he’d been so sure that Changmin would fight this. That he’d be able to overcome it, take back control. Maybe even reject it completely. Changmin was special, powerful, and Jaejoong had been waiting to see him respond the way he had the previous week when he’d thrown Jaejoong to the floor with only the force of his mind.
He could tell now that Changmin was already too far gone. Or else his curse was simply too strongly potent. And it was his duty now to make it right, to make sure Changmin didn’t die, to calm down the darkness eroding away at his very soul.
He pulled open Changmin’s tunic with sure quick movements, not surprised to see the dark ugly bruises already formed around his heart. It was the only physical proof of the curse, and he’d seen it throughout the various experiments, evolved until it was only mere bruises like now. No bloody gashes, no organs spilling through torn skin. He was glad for that now. Even in this state, Changmin’s body was flawless and beautiful.
He ran light fingertips across the exposed skin, a tingle running up his arm as a faint echo of Changmin’s power danced across his skin in reaction to the touch. So many nights he’d fantasized and dreamed of touching Changmin like this...he hadn’t wanted the first time to be like this. Him touching him out of necessity. Him touching him to undo the damage of his own curse.
Beneath his fingers, Changmin shivered, eyes falling closed, silent whimpers spilling from his beautiful ample lips. Jaejoong’s heart was beating irregularly, much too fast it made his head feel light. If only he could hear him... His thoughts automatically strayed to where Changmin’s voice lay trapped and imprisoned, a gently glowing ball of light among so many others that lit this very room with stolen beauty.
He had to focus on the task at hand, pressing his fingertips more firmly against Changmin’s warm skin, channeling a tentative brush of magic into where they touched, breath catching as Changmin arched up into his touch just as the hot fire instantly wrapped around him. But it was no longer burning, nor threatening, just pleasantly warm as it moved around him in soft bumping ripples. Desperate and lost, gentle in each sweeping caress, and a small smile curved his lips. It was almost as if Changmin were reaching for him, however unconsciously, and the feeling was nothing he could ever describe.
Guiding his energy toward the black knot that lay just out of reach, he let it unfurl about the spot, isolating it and shielding it from tearing any further into Changmin. He could feel Changmin’s relief as if it were his own, invading his senses, flowing through his body as something warm and heady. He was powerless to stop it, nor did he want to try.
One moment he was enjoying the connection bridged between them, sharing Changmin’s rampant emotions, and the next hands were suddenly latching onto his wrist, firm strong fingers clutching so hard he winced.
He looked down to find Changmin’s eyes opened and looking up at him, bright and clear once again, a new flash he’d never yet seen in them before as the other nearly glared at him.
Jaejoong was taken by surprise, unprepared, heart skipping a beat with the intensity of that stare, as if Changmin was judging him, accusing him, angry at him. He felt another wave of emotion crash over him, having no idea where it could have come from as he identified it as excitement. Thrilling and sending his heart racing.
He’d been wrong to think Changmin had given up. He was there laying beneath him now, full of angry energy. This was the Changmin he’d been watching for weeks on end, the one he had expected to see. He had wanted him to fight back like this.
It was almost as if Changmin could read his mind, because as soon as he thought it, the anticipation wavering in between their locked gazes snapped. Changmin’s hands tightened almost painfully around Jaejoong’s wrist, tearing his palm away from where it had rested across his chest.
Jaejoong instantly missed the feel of warmth that had been seeping into his palm from the contact, Changmin’s fingers on him were burning hot and he could almost imagine them searing a circle of skin red. Changmin was hurting him, reflexively defending himself, even as the loss of contact over his heart caused the small tendril of protection to dissipate. Instantly the fierce hold of the curse reared once more to clutch and twist his heart and pain was once more clear on Changmin’s face even as he clenched his jaw struggling to hide it. Jaejoong watched him avidly.
His muscles twitched visibly and he grit his teeth, glaring up at him as if trying to prove he wouldn’t be broken so easily. Yet it was only mere minutes, a handful of heartbeats, before his strong facade finally crumpled. And it was fascinating, like watching something whither before his eyes.
Changmin’s fingers tightened around his wrist once again, and Jaejoong knew it would leave a mark of some kind. He grimaced slightly, nearly afraid his bones would snap beneath the strong grip. But then Changmin suddenly didn’t seem able to hold on any longer, his burning eyes falling closed as his fingers went lax before slipping away at last.
Jaejoong drew his smarting wrists to himself slowly, watching as Changmin’s body twisted beautifully, arching and curling, muscles tensed and rippling beneath his skin. His eyes followed each line and curve of his body shamelessly, all the while absently rubbing at his wrists gently.
All the while Changmin hadn’t uttered a sound save for breathy huffs of air, but Jaejoong found that one sound alone was enough to have his own body feel warm, an odd heat pooling in the pit of his stomach.
He sucked in a slow breath as he rocked back on his heels, realizing as he leaned back that even his senses had been invaded by the smell of Changmin. He couldn’t get enough even as he couldn’t get him out of his head.
Then Changmin’s eyes opened, dark and dilated. In them was something desperate, something fragile and vulnerable. And he didn’t know if he felt disappointed again or...something else that was hard to identify.
But as he watched with cold impassiveness, the liquid sheen in Changmin’s eyes was making his throat close in on itself. He didn’t want to see that look on him. It was the same he’d seen so many times on those disgusting sniveling slaves who’d begged for their lives and groveled before him. He looked like those slaved had, but he wasn’t one of them. He was supposed to be different. And now that he was sure of what he saw, it was starting to make him angry again.
He could still feel the energy radiating, his fighting spirit, yet the look on his face was nearing one of shameless begging.
“If you want it...then try and take it.” His voice came out harsh, icy cold, but tight with emotion.
Changmin didn’t react, didn’t hardly seem to hear him, just continued to look at him with impossibly large eyes. Jaejoong held his breath, waiting and daring for Changmin to reach out for him, to really lay aside all pride and beg properly.
A long minute in which he counted the lashes fanning his eyes, followed by another. In which he felt the spiteful anger start to sink and fade away. Another slow minute, and Changmin’s eyes finally slid closed. Stubborn until the end. Even in defeat. And that tightly wound something within him relaxed.
As much as he’d wanted Changmin to debase himself and come crawling to him, beg him for his help, he much preferred to see him continue to refuse to give in. To fight everything, even him. Because then he would know...later when Changmin would finally give into him but no one else. He would know because he’d be the first to break him.
***
Hours later and he was finally able to lull Changmin into a semblance of sleep, something in between consciousness and shallow slumber if the quick movement of his eyes beneath closed lids was anything to go by. Changmin hadn’t been able to refuse or resist when he’d brought him to his room, where he now sat beside him on the edge of the small bed.
His hand rested firmly on Changmin’s chest, each beat of his heart sending small ripples of heat through his fingers. He’d tried unsuccessfully to keep himself from absorbing the energy, unable to block it as it naturally flowed into him through the place their skin pressed together. Not that he tried very hard to stop it, as he was loathe to lose the sweet feeling that was warming his whole body slowly from that single point of contact.
He rationalized it by the fact that leaving his energy to fight futilely against the curse would only burn Changmin out, drain him and waste precious energy. It was also the cause of his fever burning more hotly than was normal, hot enough to be dangerous, and therefore stealing it away bit by bit was actually for Changmin’s safety and benefit.
In the end it really didn’t matter if there was a valid reason or not, because simply put, this was his to take whether Changmin wanted him to have it or not. It was his to receive especially at times like this when it was threatening to harm anything that came in contact with it.
But as slow minutes crawled by, Jaejoong fell into a slight trance with the steady feel of Changmin’s heart beating against his own pulse, the sound of deep even breaths filling his ears, and the sight of Changmin’s face completely vulnerable and relaxed before him.
It was a while before he began to realize that something felt different. Enough of the fiery energy had bled away, leaving him unguarded at last, and he was finally able to slip in. There was the dark twisted blackness of the curse deep within, along with something else he couldn’t identify. It was foreign to him, not of his own make nor that of Changmin’s.
He puzzled over the near blinding whiteness that blotted spots before his eyes and blinded him from being able to see Changmin. It wasn’t until he forced his magic through it, broke through a wall in a bursting cascade of white fireworks that he realized what it was. And he drew back so quickly he nearly fell off the bed as he came back into himself.
Remembering at the last moment to keep his hand in place, he pressed his fingers more firmly into Changmin’s warm skin, drawing a deep slow breath to try and calm himself. But he couldn’t seem to get control even after the shock faded, the confusion and surprise transitioning almost instantly to anger as he glared down at Changmin’s sleeping form.
Why...why was the Crown Prince’s energy mixed in with Changmin’s? It was impossible, couldn’t and shouldn’t be there at all, but he was sure now that what he’d felt, the strange wall blocking him from penetrating deeper into Changmin’s unconsciousness, was none other than Prince Yoochun’s energy.
Almost violently, he forced his mind against Changmin’s again, tearing through layers and roughly shoving Changmin’s weak protests away to take him over completely with a surge of power all the heightened with Changmin’s own strength flowing through his veins. Changmin struggled and writhed against him weakly for a short moment, but his anger fueled him, made him rough and careless, made him crush and suppress the other with hardly a second thought.
Changmin’s mind fell defenseless and open before him and he plunged inside, focusing on the new interfering life force he found twined intricately with Changmin’s. He pushed and pulled at it forcefully, attempting to rip it apart, untangle it, break it into pieces, but it would slip away from him like smoke only to condense and reform once again as if he’d never touched it.
Frustrated, he poured everything into his attacks, determined to sever the connection, to destroy and obliterate the offending presence at all costs. Yet nothing he tried seemed to have any affect, and he soon felt with a small flicker at the back of his mind, that he’d been absorbed for much too long, that his own energy was fading quickly with the overpowering onslaught of magic he threw at the other.
And he knew, as much as he hated it, that the only way it was possible, the only way it could possibly avoid his attacks, was that it fed off the curse. The curse that had been made for and directed solely at Prince Yoochun. And nothing he could do now would break or weaken that while it still fed off of the center of the curse, the one in Yoochun’s heart, all the more potent as it was sunken in the full power of the Crown Prince’s royal blood.
Reluctantly, he forced himself to withdraw from the mesh of magic and energy swirling fiercely together in dizzying infuriating arcs. He couldn’t touch it, even though the center of it was of his own making, and he didn’t want to try and understand how the two were now so inseparably connected.
Blinking slowly, he found himself slumped over Changmin’s chest, fingernails dug into the bruised skin so deeply that he’d drawn blood. He pushed himself up hesitantly, uncurling his fingers as the anger stuttered, something like regret sitting heavily in his stomach. Because Changmin lay as if dead beneath him. Hardly the faintest breath moved his chest, and his head had rolled lifelessly to one side.
Jaejoong knew that as much as the man wouldn’t feel pain any longer while in this state, it was too close to something comatose, only too easy to be lost forever within nothingness. He had to bring him back, had to keep him nearly conscious, for if he didn’t he now knew he could die.
And he bit down on his lip until he tasted blood, angry again but now only at himself. Because not only had he made a mistake and failed to complete the curse correctly, he’d somehow implicated Changmin, and would have to keep the Crown Prince alive as well or risk loosing them both.
After composing himself, he took a breath and began to sing a slow melody. Something that was merely a song, not a spell, something he could never remember learning but always used to ground himself. He closed his eyes, loosing himself in the tune as he gently reached out to coax Changmin back.
And throughout it all he could still feel the bright nothingness of the Crown Prince’s presence, the connection he couldn’t fully explain, the link he didn’t want to accept or let linger even a moment longer. But he was set with the task of keeping them both alive and sane, unable to spare Changmin more pain by letting Prince Yoochun suffer instead, as letting him die would also kill Changmin. Nor could he keep the Prince from dying without causing Changmin more agony.
The longer it went on, on and on and on, and they were melding together more thoroughly, connecting and strengthening into one blinding light. Something that hurt his eyes, something that made his heart race with anxiety. Because he was still angry because he truly had no idea what this bond was, and worried...scared that it would become permanent. By keeping them together through the curse for such a long period of time, it made them more inseparable with each passing moment.
And he was more certain of it as at times he felt Changmin slipping away from him completely, unresponsive to his attempts to bind him or hold him back, drawn irretrievably into the whiteness of Yoochun so that he couldn’t reach him at all anymore, gone to where he couldn’t follow. And it was driving him crazy.
It was late into the darkest hours of morning, when he’d once again lost Changmin to the impenetrable power of the Crown Prince that he made up his mind. He had no other thoughts except for breaking the bond that had formed through a mistake, something that was sucking Changmin of all his light and refilling it with the whiteness he was starting to find repulsive.
It was too harsh and unyielding, stealing Changmin away from him and he would do whatever it took to destroy it and rip it away from Changmin before his golden light withered into something unrecognizable. Before it changed it into something marked and tainted with the touch of another. He couldn’t let Changmin loose himself to the Prince.
And he was already forming the explanation he’d have to use to convince his father, already thinking ahead to how he could protect Changmin from the invasive energy in the future if his father should curb his powers.
They would have to undo the entire curse, releasing Prince Yoochun from its hold completely. There was no other way to keep them both alive otherwise, as having it split between two bodies was starting to turn it wild. There was the possibility it would soon grow into something else entirely so that it would resist even the control and force of its maker. Then there would be nothing he could do to stop it. He’d have to be quick to prevent that from happening.
And although he guessed his father may be able to take the curse off even then, he hated the pressing urgent feeling that time was running out. Because Changmin was now moving restlessly before him, silent cries in his sleep as he seemed ensnared in feverish nightmares, and Jaejoong couldn’t do anything to soothe him. He’d never felt so trapped and useless, just as he’d never felt such a strong desire to heal someone. He couldn’t stand to see him like this much longer.
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next chapter~~
Pairing: Jaemin, Yoomin
Length: Chapter 7/?
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.
Previous Chapters: one | two | three | four | five | six
A/N: :S not satisfied with this chap either lol, but this should explain a few things ~
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Everything had happened too fast.
The lingering energy of the Crown Prince had hardly just slipped out of range as he crossed the river marking the edge of their territory. It had been just heartbeats since Changmin had suddenly bucked and twisted from out of his grasp only to fall upon the floor, curling around himself and clutching at his chest as if in pain. Mere seconds were all he had to look down in shock at the man before his father burst through the door in a raging flurry.
The first slap was unexpected, knocked him forcefully sideways into the table sending ceramic shattering upon the floor as liquids spilled across the table top, powders exploding with small puffs of smoke as they mixed with each other.
Jaejoong blinked the black out of his vision, head reeling slightly from the force of the blow. He lay half spread across the surface, stunned, coughing weakly as he inhaled the dusty powder blown into the air about him.
Catching his breath, he slowly pushed himself upright, ribs aching from where they’d connected with the hard edge of polished wood. He stood up slowly, palms resting flat on the table to steady himself as he caught his breath, vision clearing with each passing second. A fuzzy sort of coldness settled in his stomach as he slowly turned back around to face his father. An almost palpable heaviness, something born of previous learning, an already calmly accepted expectation pressing against his chest.
He turned about to see his father tall and rigid, head cocked nonchalantly to one side as he meticulously, ever so slowly with sure purposeful fingers rotated the large iron wrought ring circling his middle finger around until the sharp cut edges of the diamond patterns inlaid there were aligned with his palm.
He took another leisurely moment to admire the ring, flexing his fingers experimentally, and Jaejoong braced himself knowing only too well what would come next.
The second slap, though expected, still caught him by surprise with the sheer strength behind it. His head flew to the side as his body rocked against the side of the table. Although he managed to keep his feet beneath him, his cheek burned fiercely from where the ring had sliced deeply into and across his skin. He realized the small cry of pain must have been his own as Changmin was incapable of sound. Warm blood ran down his cheek.
He didn’t move. Head bowed and eyes lowered submissively, staring blankly at the air between him and the dark wooden floor. He couldn’t hear anything save the heavy gasping breaths coming from Changmin somewhere on the floor behind him.
He didn’t need to look to know the man must still be lying pathetically on the floor. He couldn’t clear his head, thoughts a jumble as instead of puzzling over what exactly had gone wrong with the spell, what could have possibly affected Changmin or why that was a bad thing, he could only think that Changmin was probably in too much pain to have seen what just transpired before him.
All thought left his mind as his father moved to stand directly before him, a sharp disapproving click of his tongue, a low murmur of disgust coloring the anger in his voice into an almost physical sting of words against his ears.
“Careless. Incompetent brat. What have you done?”
Jaejoong didn’t dare reply. Trying to explain himself was out of the question, regardless of if it had been his mistake or not. Either way his spell had somehow gone wrong, and he was the only one fully responsible.
He bowed his head further, silent as his father fumed dangerously, the suffocating dark displeasure radiating from him was nearly nauseating, and Jaejoong knew from experience that breathing the bad energy too deeply would result in his stomach twisting inside out.
Each word was hissed out and Jaejoong flinched as they cut his ears like tiny razors. “Keep him alive at all costs.”
Jaejoong didn’t let his confusion show, but found himself caught on the strange command. What did his father mean by that?
He chanced a glance at the man as he felt his burning attention was no longer focused on him. His father was staring instead at Changmin, who looked to be in great pain, panting heavily, sweat collected on his face which was drained of all color. His eyes were tightly shut.
“His health is essential.” He mused quietly, almost as if to himself, and Jaejoong simply watched furtively beneath his bangs as his father continued to scrutinize Changmin with avid interest.
He wondered not for the first time what other motives and hidden plans his father may have concerning their secret prince, and felt displeasure rise like bile in his throat as his father’s eyes gleamed with something like greed, bordering on desire. He’d seen the look too many times to not be able to recognize it, and he swallowed thickly as he quickly looked away.
The moment ended after much too long as his father finally whirled on him again. Jaejoong shrank back reflexively, a feeling of worthlessness coiling in the pit of his stomach at the natural reaction. He was nothing compared to his father...they both knew his father could take away everything, cripple him in the blink of an eye.
He wasn’t sure if he resented this fact or not, as he’d always just accepted it as the way things were. He’d been awed and scared time and time again when he was young by the ferocity and wildness of his father’s magic and spells. The way he could lure anything and capture it in his power, the way he could destroy even the strongest things.
He wasn’t sure if he could ever surpass his father or not in skill, not with his limited knowledge and the rigid strict control his father held over his education. And he doubted his father would ever completely give him his trust or teach him everything of value. Not when Jaejoong had such limitless power. And especially not when he still made such dangerous mistakes such as today.
Therefore it would be his own fault if his father should punish him by taking it away from him like he’d done so many times before, blocking and binding his energy so that he couldn’t perform even the smallest incantation. Nothing could be worse than making him weak, no more than an empty powerless human. It frustrated him to no end that he still couldn’t figure out how his father implemented the binding nor how to rid himself of it.
His father had first done it years ago when he’d foolishly believed himself smarter and more gifted than his own father. He had wanted to prove himself, test himself, and it had earned him nothing but cold displeasure, learning quickly enough just how easily he could loose everything to his father’s whims.
It was at that time he’d come to realize just how powerful his father was, how much he had to learn, just how deeply he was in the dark. Endless power and energy wasn’t enough if he didn’t know how to harness or direct it. And his father took advantage of that fact, painfully slow and careful in revealing secrets, keeping control over his development process and teaching him discipline and discretion above all else. Reminding him time and time again his place.
Times like this today, where things went wrong, only seemed to prove to his father his immaturity, inadept and still losing control. He didn’t even need to say anything, the justified anger showing it all. It was one reason why he never gained such things as approval or recognition, as his father merely took it for granted he would perform exactly as he’d been taught. It also meant there was never disappointment either, since his father didn’t expect anything better from him in the first place.
His father turned away from him dismissively. “You’re to do nothing but monitor him.” He commanded. “I'll decide what to do with you after this mistake is remedied.”
Jaejoong murmured he understood, bowing to his father’s back. “And the Crown Prince?” He dared to whisper.
His father’s displeasure crackled with pure energy like electricity along his veins. His body stiffened slightly at the uncomfortable pain.
“I trust you to remember the importance of this plan. What trouble it should cause me to start over. And should all be for naught, what that will mean for you.”
The threat hung in the air as Jaejoong sunk into a deeper bow, nearly grovelling before him, useless apologies falling from numb lips even after his father had swept out of the door, cloak swirling in the wind.
He knew only too well. If he ended up being the cause of two of his father’s plans to fall through...plans that had been painstakingly calculated and formed over not months but years. He clenched his fists.
Even though he’d done half of the work and nearly all the actual tests, dirtying his hands and expending irreplaceable amounts of energy and magic, leaving countless bodies like soulless husks, rotted and shredded behind.
Although in the end, his father held all the real power, directed it all, hovered over his every move and incantation, taught him the spells and disclosed only the barest knowledge possible. He was merely a pawn, existing for his father to exploit and direct, kept in the dark so that he could do nothing but perfect and focus on the single new spell he was allowed to perform.
He was sure his father would bind his powers this time as well. It was only a question of when...had Changmin somehow not been implicated, he was sure he’d already be drained and weak, body flimsy and light as air, only able to hang around at the edge of his father’s raging darkness. He shuddered slightly.
The spell he’d worked on for years. The sweat he’d shed, the energy lost, the icy wall protecting himself thickening with each failure. Over and over again, more than a handful of slaves dying with their hearts shriveling and twisting disgustingly within their chests. Over and over again, reprimands and blows falling freely from his father. Until he’d finally perfected it.
Only for it to go wrong now at the very moment he’d finally used it for what his father seemed to have created it for. Complete and total control over a man’s life. The power to stop his heart, the power to cause endless torture. The power to break a man and force him to give them whatever they asked.
All for power...that man being the next ruler of the kingdom hardly daunting his father. The ultimate prize was hardly far off if they completed this step correctly. He knew his father wouldn’t let anything get in his way. Not until he had the Crown Prince wrapped securely around his finger, had the castle in the palm of his hand, had the people bowing before him. Unchallenged power, endless resources.
And this was why he didn’t understand his father’s last command. Why...what was so important about Changmin that he’d come before the Crown Prince? It was disconcerting, confusing. Why didn’t his father want Changmin harmed? He’d never been one to regulate or even care about inflicting pain and treating living humans as mere objects. It was the first time he could ever remember his father ever caring whether a slave died or lived, especially when harmed by their own magic.
He couldn’t deny that he disliked the sudden show of interest, the look his father had given Changmin, as if he was something valuable if not desirable. He pushed away the thought that the reason he had an aversion to such feelings was because they were not foreign to him recently either.
However, this same interest meant that his father ordered him to watch over Changmin, to keep him alive, and thus saved him from finding an excuse to tend to Changmin or even save him from inevitable death from the curse. Even so, he didn’t want Changmin to be important. He wanted him to remain the worthless, forgotten prince. He’d been thrown away, and Jaejoong was determined no one would be allowed to try and take him back again.
Soft panting breaths from said man slowly permeated his dazed brain, tugging him back to the present moment. He turned quickly, stepping over the smoldering broken mess on the floor to crouch down beside the trembling body.
He could feel it suddenly now, the tickling sensation that had been pricking the edges of his consciousness now fully open to nearly bursting energy, heat radiating in waves from Changmin. It was so thick and hot he could almost literally feel it warming his own skin. But it was nothing more than his energy, blinding in its intensity, flaring with an uncontrolled wildness.
He reached out to feel Changmin’s mind, ready to take control over him like he had so many times, but the second he connected to him, the small tentative touch was burned painfully into nothing, a white flash branding his mind and taking his breath momentarily away.
Gasping, he pulled away quickly, shocked to feel the barrier that had shut him out. He couldn’t reach him through the searing energy gone wild, dancing about him like a protective invisible shield.
He focused all his attention on it, puzzling over what it could possibly be. Changmin’s innate powers seemed to have reacted naturally, defensively, but dangerous in their basic primitiveness. He let his own powers flit along it carefully, pulling back every time it flared and lashed out with fiery hands.
No, not a shield. It was simply Changmin’s energy, roaring and raging in an attempt to leap from his very body. It seemed blind, attacking anything that came near it, burning fire to his continued hesitant fleeting touches, struggling and failing to attack something dark that seemed buried deep within its center.
And it really shouldn’t be there. Couldn’t be... He hadn’t allowed for the incantation to include anyone but the Crown Prince. It was nearly impossible, but he caught a clear glimpse of the dark knot of foul energy, a small black hole greedily sucking on his life source, even as his whole being rejected and lashed out in response.
Jaejoong frowned in concentration. It was clearly obvious what had happened, but he wasn’t sure how. Somehow, a part of the curse had been transferred to Changmin. Something had gone wrong. He supposed it was possible that the power of his royal energy could have attracted and absorbed some of the magic as it made its way towards Prince Yoochun.
Although only half-blood, Changmin’s royal force was unnaturally strong, and it only made sense that it could have disturbed the spell, infected it, knocked it off course. A gush of blinding gold sucking the negative energy away from the target Prince and into Changmin instead.
Heart bruising with each painful beat, as he’d somehow absorbed the curse that wasn’t meant for nor even directed at him. How? Why?
Even though he wasn’t sure how it had happened, he was starting to realize he should have seen it coming. They were too similar in energies. The bright power of royal blood, the opposite force that drew the curse irretrievably into its depths. He should have known Changmin would be just as susceptible under the circumstances. But Changmin shouldn’t have even been there... was supposed to be somewhere else, locked safely away.
He could never explain to his father the reason he had convinced himself with to allow Changmin freedom, within limits. He was sure the binding magic he’d performed would keep Changmin from leaving the open grassland, and he trusted it enough to have left Changmin’s door unlocked time and time again. And then there had been the long hours spent cloaked and hidden with magic, watching, always watching, with the wind humming dimly in his ears as Changmin soaked up the sun.
He never seemed to notice Jaejoong’s presence, or if he had he chose to ignore him. And Jaejoong didn’t really mind. He was content to study him secretly, getting to know the slope of his shoulders, the line of his long legs, the curve of a cheek turned from him, and the depth of those big brown eyes. Eyes that held so many secrets, so many unspoken words.
Opening his eyes slowly, the brightness of Changmin’s energy slowly faded like a print left behind his eyes. Before him lay Changmin, looking suddenly dead, skin a pale grey in the dim light of the room, all light from within snuffed out. Sweat glistened on his temples as he clutched at his chest with both hands.
Jaejoong didn’t need any more confirmation than the essence of his curse he’d felt deep within Changmin, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out. Just to check.
Changmin’s skin burned to the touch. Not the heat of his power, but the burn of a body wracked by fever, his whole body flinching as Jaejoong’s no doubt icy hands circled his wrists.
Eyelids slowly peeled open. The brown depths were murky and hazed over with pain, unfocused even as he searched languidly for Jaejoong’s face. Their eyes met briefly, but Changmin didn’t seem to see him, gaze sliding away and rolling sightlessly to one side as he moaned silently.
His wrists were limp and powerless in his hands, his pulse fluttering weakly against where his fingers pressed. He didn’t try to fight him off even as he clenched his fingers more firmly, tightening the grip as if trying to elicit some sort of response. Changmin didn’t seem to feel it, body only jerking slightly with each cruel twist of his heart.
Jaejoong frowned, hating the weakness that had stolen into Changmin, taking place of all that should have been there. He looked so sickly, despondent and weak. His eyes narrowed, feeling irrationally angry at how easily Changmin had fallen victim, how quickly he’d given in and stopped fighting.
He didn’t care that Changmin’s energy was still valiantly struggling against the curse, everything he saw before his eyes was screaming defeat, submitting to it, and he swallowed down disappointment as he slowly released Changmin’s wrists. His arms fell limply to his sides, and Jaejoong watched him for a long moment.
After being forced back by the power of Changmin’s burning energy, he’d been so sure that Changmin would fight this. That he’d be able to overcome it, take back control. Maybe even reject it completely. Changmin was special, powerful, and Jaejoong had been waiting to see him respond the way he had the previous week when he’d thrown Jaejoong to the floor with only the force of his mind.
He could tell now that Changmin was already too far gone. Or else his curse was simply too strongly potent. And it was his duty now to make it right, to make sure Changmin didn’t die, to calm down the darkness eroding away at his very soul.
He pulled open Changmin’s tunic with sure quick movements, not surprised to see the dark ugly bruises already formed around his heart. It was the only physical proof of the curse, and he’d seen it throughout the various experiments, evolved until it was only mere bruises like now. No bloody gashes, no organs spilling through torn skin. He was glad for that now. Even in this state, Changmin’s body was flawless and beautiful.
He ran light fingertips across the exposed skin, a tingle running up his arm as a faint echo of Changmin’s power danced across his skin in reaction to the touch. So many nights he’d fantasized and dreamed of touching Changmin like this...he hadn’t wanted the first time to be like this. Him touching him out of necessity. Him touching him to undo the damage of his own curse.
Beneath his fingers, Changmin shivered, eyes falling closed, silent whimpers spilling from his beautiful ample lips. Jaejoong’s heart was beating irregularly, much too fast it made his head feel light. If only he could hear him... His thoughts automatically strayed to where Changmin’s voice lay trapped and imprisoned, a gently glowing ball of light among so many others that lit this very room with stolen beauty.
He had to focus on the task at hand, pressing his fingertips more firmly against Changmin’s warm skin, channeling a tentative brush of magic into where they touched, breath catching as Changmin arched up into his touch just as the hot fire instantly wrapped around him. But it was no longer burning, nor threatening, just pleasantly warm as it moved around him in soft bumping ripples. Desperate and lost, gentle in each sweeping caress, and a small smile curved his lips. It was almost as if Changmin were reaching for him, however unconsciously, and the feeling was nothing he could ever describe.
Guiding his energy toward the black knot that lay just out of reach, he let it unfurl about the spot, isolating it and shielding it from tearing any further into Changmin. He could feel Changmin’s relief as if it were his own, invading his senses, flowing through his body as something warm and heady. He was powerless to stop it, nor did he want to try.
One moment he was enjoying the connection bridged between them, sharing Changmin’s rampant emotions, and the next hands were suddenly latching onto his wrist, firm strong fingers clutching so hard he winced.
He looked down to find Changmin’s eyes opened and looking up at him, bright and clear once again, a new flash he’d never yet seen in them before as the other nearly glared at him.
Jaejoong was taken by surprise, unprepared, heart skipping a beat with the intensity of that stare, as if Changmin was judging him, accusing him, angry at him. He felt another wave of emotion crash over him, having no idea where it could have come from as he identified it as excitement. Thrilling and sending his heart racing.
He’d been wrong to think Changmin had given up. He was there laying beneath him now, full of angry energy. This was the Changmin he’d been watching for weeks on end, the one he had expected to see. He had wanted him to fight back like this.
It was almost as if Changmin could read his mind, because as soon as he thought it, the anticipation wavering in between their locked gazes snapped. Changmin’s hands tightened almost painfully around Jaejoong’s wrist, tearing his palm away from where it had rested across his chest.
Jaejoong instantly missed the feel of warmth that had been seeping into his palm from the contact, Changmin’s fingers on him were burning hot and he could almost imagine them searing a circle of skin red. Changmin was hurting him, reflexively defending himself, even as the loss of contact over his heart caused the small tendril of protection to dissipate. Instantly the fierce hold of the curse reared once more to clutch and twist his heart and pain was once more clear on Changmin’s face even as he clenched his jaw struggling to hide it. Jaejoong watched him avidly.
His muscles twitched visibly and he grit his teeth, glaring up at him as if trying to prove he wouldn’t be broken so easily. Yet it was only mere minutes, a handful of heartbeats, before his strong facade finally crumpled. And it was fascinating, like watching something whither before his eyes.
Changmin’s fingers tightened around his wrist once again, and Jaejoong knew it would leave a mark of some kind. He grimaced slightly, nearly afraid his bones would snap beneath the strong grip. But then Changmin suddenly didn’t seem able to hold on any longer, his burning eyes falling closed as his fingers went lax before slipping away at last.
Jaejoong drew his smarting wrists to himself slowly, watching as Changmin’s body twisted beautifully, arching and curling, muscles tensed and rippling beneath his skin. His eyes followed each line and curve of his body shamelessly, all the while absently rubbing at his wrists gently.
All the while Changmin hadn’t uttered a sound save for breathy huffs of air, but Jaejoong found that one sound alone was enough to have his own body feel warm, an odd heat pooling in the pit of his stomach.
He sucked in a slow breath as he rocked back on his heels, realizing as he leaned back that even his senses had been invaded by the smell of Changmin. He couldn’t get enough even as he couldn’t get him out of his head.
Then Changmin’s eyes opened, dark and dilated. In them was something desperate, something fragile and vulnerable. And he didn’t know if he felt disappointed again or...something else that was hard to identify.
But as he watched with cold impassiveness, the liquid sheen in Changmin’s eyes was making his throat close in on itself. He didn’t want to see that look on him. It was the same he’d seen so many times on those disgusting sniveling slaves who’d begged for their lives and groveled before him. He looked like those slaved had, but he wasn’t one of them. He was supposed to be different. And now that he was sure of what he saw, it was starting to make him angry again.
He could still feel the energy radiating, his fighting spirit, yet the look on his face was nearing one of shameless begging.
“If you want it...then try and take it.” His voice came out harsh, icy cold, but tight with emotion.
Changmin didn’t react, didn’t hardly seem to hear him, just continued to look at him with impossibly large eyes. Jaejoong held his breath, waiting and daring for Changmin to reach out for him, to really lay aside all pride and beg properly.
A long minute in which he counted the lashes fanning his eyes, followed by another. In which he felt the spiteful anger start to sink and fade away. Another slow minute, and Changmin’s eyes finally slid closed. Stubborn until the end. Even in defeat. And that tightly wound something within him relaxed.
As much as he’d wanted Changmin to debase himself and come crawling to him, beg him for his help, he much preferred to see him continue to refuse to give in. To fight everything, even him. Because then he would know...later when Changmin would finally give into him but no one else. He would know because he’d be the first to break him.
***
Hours later and he was finally able to lull Changmin into a semblance of sleep, something in between consciousness and shallow slumber if the quick movement of his eyes beneath closed lids was anything to go by. Changmin hadn’t been able to refuse or resist when he’d brought him to his room, where he now sat beside him on the edge of the small bed.
His hand rested firmly on Changmin’s chest, each beat of his heart sending small ripples of heat through his fingers. He’d tried unsuccessfully to keep himself from absorbing the energy, unable to block it as it naturally flowed into him through the place their skin pressed together. Not that he tried very hard to stop it, as he was loathe to lose the sweet feeling that was warming his whole body slowly from that single point of contact.
He rationalized it by the fact that leaving his energy to fight futilely against the curse would only burn Changmin out, drain him and waste precious energy. It was also the cause of his fever burning more hotly than was normal, hot enough to be dangerous, and therefore stealing it away bit by bit was actually for Changmin’s safety and benefit.
In the end it really didn’t matter if there was a valid reason or not, because simply put, this was his to take whether Changmin wanted him to have it or not. It was his to receive especially at times like this when it was threatening to harm anything that came in contact with it.
But as slow minutes crawled by, Jaejoong fell into a slight trance with the steady feel of Changmin’s heart beating against his own pulse, the sound of deep even breaths filling his ears, and the sight of Changmin’s face completely vulnerable and relaxed before him.
It was a while before he began to realize that something felt different. Enough of the fiery energy had bled away, leaving him unguarded at last, and he was finally able to slip in. There was the dark twisted blackness of the curse deep within, along with something else he couldn’t identify. It was foreign to him, not of his own make nor that of Changmin’s.
He puzzled over the near blinding whiteness that blotted spots before his eyes and blinded him from being able to see Changmin. It wasn’t until he forced his magic through it, broke through a wall in a bursting cascade of white fireworks that he realized what it was. And he drew back so quickly he nearly fell off the bed as he came back into himself.
Remembering at the last moment to keep his hand in place, he pressed his fingers more firmly into Changmin’s warm skin, drawing a deep slow breath to try and calm himself. But he couldn’t seem to get control even after the shock faded, the confusion and surprise transitioning almost instantly to anger as he glared down at Changmin’s sleeping form.
Why...why was the Crown Prince’s energy mixed in with Changmin’s? It was impossible, couldn’t and shouldn’t be there at all, but he was sure now that what he’d felt, the strange wall blocking him from penetrating deeper into Changmin’s unconsciousness, was none other than Prince Yoochun’s energy.
Almost violently, he forced his mind against Changmin’s again, tearing through layers and roughly shoving Changmin’s weak protests away to take him over completely with a surge of power all the heightened with Changmin’s own strength flowing through his veins. Changmin struggled and writhed against him weakly for a short moment, but his anger fueled him, made him rough and careless, made him crush and suppress the other with hardly a second thought.
Changmin’s mind fell defenseless and open before him and he plunged inside, focusing on the new interfering life force he found twined intricately with Changmin’s. He pushed and pulled at it forcefully, attempting to rip it apart, untangle it, break it into pieces, but it would slip away from him like smoke only to condense and reform once again as if he’d never touched it.
Frustrated, he poured everything into his attacks, determined to sever the connection, to destroy and obliterate the offending presence at all costs. Yet nothing he tried seemed to have any affect, and he soon felt with a small flicker at the back of his mind, that he’d been absorbed for much too long, that his own energy was fading quickly with the overpowering onslaught of magic he threw at the other.
And he knew, as much as he hated it, that the only way it was possible, the only way it could possibly avoid his attacks, was that it fed off the curse. The curse that had been made for and directed solely at Prince Yoochun. And nothing he could do now would break or weaken that while it still fed off of the center of the curse, the one in Yoochun’s heart, all the more potent as it was sunken in the full power of the Crown Prince’s royal blood.
Reluctantly, he forced himself to withdraw from the mesh of magic and energy swirling fiercely together in dizzying infuriating arcs. He couldn’t touch it, even though the center of it was of his own making, and he didn’t want to try and understand how the two were now so inseparably connected.
Blinking slowly, he found himself slumped over Changmin’s chest, fingernails dug into the bruised skin so deeply that he’d drawn blood. He pushed himself up hesitantly, uncurling his fingers as the anger stuttered, something like regret sitting heavily in his stomach. Because Changmin lay as if dead beneath him. Hardly the faintest breath moved his chest, and his head had rolled lifelessly to one side.
Jaejoong knew that as much as the man wouldn’t feel pain any longer while in this state, it was too close to something comatose, only too easy to be lost forever within nothingness. He had to bring him back, had to keep him nearly conscious, for if he didn’t he now knew he could die.
And he bit down on his lip until he tasted blood, angry again but now only at himself. Because not only had he made a mistake and failed to complete the curse correctly, he’d somehow implicated Changmin, and would have to keep the Crown Prince alive as well or risk loosing them both.
After composing himself, he took a breath and began to sing a slow melody. Something that was merely a song, not a spell, something he could never remember learning but always used to ground himself. He closed his eyes, loosing himself in the tune as he gently reached out to coax Changmin back.
And throughout it all he could still feel the bright nothingness of the Crown Prince’s presence, the connection he couldn’t fully explain, the link he didn’t want to accept or let linger even a moment longer. But he was set with the task of keeping them both alive and sane, unable to spare Changmin more pain by letting Prince Yoochun suffer instead, as letting him die would also kill Changmin. Nor could he keep the Prince from dying without causing Changmin more agony.
The longer it went on, on and on and on, and they were melding together more thoroughly, connecting and strengthening into one blinding light. Something that hurt his eyes, something that made his heart race with anxiety. Because he was still angry because he truly had no idea what this bond was, and worried...scared that it would become permanent. By keeping them together through the curse for such a long period of time, it made them more inseparable with each passing moment.
And he was more certain of it as at times he felt Changmin slipping away from him completely, unresponsive to his attempts to bind him or hold him back, drawn irretrievably into the whiteness of Yoochun so that he couldn’t reach him at all anymore, gone to where he couldn’t follow. And it was driving him crazy.
It was late into the darkest hours of morning, when he’d once again lost Changmin to the impenetrable power of the Crown Prince that he made up his mind. He had no other thoughts except for breaking the bond that had formed through a mistake, something that was sucking Changmin of all his light and refilling it with the whiteness he was starting to find repulsive.
It was too harsh and unyielding, stealing Changmin away from him and he would do whatever it took to destroy it and rip it away from Changmin before his golden light withered into something unrecognizable. Before it changed it into something marked and tainted with the touch of another. He couldn’t let Changmin loose himself to the Prince.
And he was already forming the explanation he’d have to use to convince his father, already thinking ahead to how he could protect Changmin from the invasive energy in the future if his father should curb his powers.
They would have to undo the entire curse, releasing Prince Yoochun from its hold completely. There was no other way to keep them both alive otherwise, as having it split between two bodies was starting to turn it wild. There was the possibility it would soon grow into something else entirely so that it would resist even the control and force of its maker. Then there would be nothing he could do to stop it. He’d have to be quick to prevent that from happening.
And although he guessed his father may be able to take the curse off even then, he hated the pressing urgent feeling that time was running out. Because Changmin was now moving restlessly before him, silent cries in his sleep as he seemed ensnared in feverish nightmares, and Jaejoong couldn’t do anything to soothe him. He’d never felt so trapped and useless, just as he’d never felt such a strong desire to heal someone. He couldn’t stand to see him like this much longer.
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next chapter~~