[Fic] Ballad of the Moon : 12b
Title: Ballad of the Moon
Pairing: Jaemin, Yoomin
Length: Chapter 12/22
Genre: fantasy, adventure, angst,drama
Disclaimer: idea based on goose-girl fairy tale ~
Summary: Changmin has no control over his life as he's forced to leave his home to become the escort of the Crown Prince in a faraway land. Before he can even reach his destination, he's betrayed by his own guard and barely escapes death, finding himself alone and forgotten in a dark forsaken land where magic is real and even the moon has deserted the sky.
A/N: oh my writers blockㅠㅠ had the yoomin part done for ages but the rest just wouldn't come. be prepared for a flood of emotional drama x_x! super long like always so had to break into part a/b, hope you enjoy it <3 thank u for following the story even through all the long waits TT love you all~~*hugs*
Previous Chapters: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve (a) |
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It would be a lie if he said he wasn't waiting. Like a fool finding hope in a lie or in his case a dead man thinking he could live again. When that was no longer his right. When he already knew it fully well.
But Yoochun’s abrupt intrusion into his life had shaken his world, reminded him that even if he was not living he was still alive, that although he felt broken and nearly dead, he was not disabled or ruined too severely to never recover. Reminded him that there were still things to smile about, still words not filled with magic, and most importantly that there were other people outside of the two men who governed his life.
Like usual these days, the Sorcerer had left in the morning, and if it was just another normal day, he wouldn't return until the evening. It wasn't Changmin's business knowing, but he had come to memorize the habits and patterns of the two lest he need to mentally prepare himself for rounds of painful experimentation.
Now with the increased absences of the Sorcerer, he could almost say he had a semblance of a normal existence. Especially with the way Jaejoong now left him shockingly alone. Months on end of being ever caught under the dark scrutiny, never a moment of pure solitude or being able to relax with the presence shadowing both waking and sleeping moments, suddenly dissolved into nothing. No one.
He was truly absent from Changmin’s life, the water and food he left him daily the only sign that he was even still there. It had been like this ever since Jaejoong had been split open by anger, ever since his curse had gone violently wrong. And it was the one time Changmin had come to realize he’d actually been left for dead. He’d kept distance and hidden away since then. Since the time Changmin had been healed by the sun and nearly fallen irretrievably captive to the sweet seduction of a suddenly very human Jaejoong. Whatever the reason, he’d been alone for days now. Ever since Jaejoong had started becoming...different.
Days felt like years without the interaction of another person, even one so terrifying and unpredictable as Jaejoong. The only proof that he’d really been there were the burns he’d left on Changmin’s shoulders. The ones that he’d never healed. And they were beginning to turn into thick ugly white scars. Scars vividly displayed in a horrid mockery of hands grabbing him.
There was nothing Changmin could do to keep them from turning into a hideous mark across his skin. Something that felt like a brand. Something that made him feel inferior, lower than a slave. No better than an animal. Though what mattered the most was that he couldn’t even find it within himself to be angry. Anger took too much energy, needed fuel and motivation of which he had run out.
All that was left was the ugly black tar of hate smearing his insides and blackening everything there that had once been sweet and bright. He felt disgusted by the marks, felt like they went deeper than the surface of his skin, that they were merely a physically manifested mirror for the darkness that had filled him up inside.
Hate was all he had now. The only thing that could keep the fear at bay. Hate that grew stronger as the person he used to be got smaller, got lost. And he didn’t think he even wanted to find himself back, since his old self had been too weak and easily beaten down. He’d been a fool, let Jaejoong manipulate him and take things away, had let himself be stripped of all that was important and left him disfigured and broken in its wake.
Even so, he struggled to hide his emotions. He didn’t want Jaejoong to know he still cared enough to hate. Didn’t want the other to know just how much he’d changed nor how much Jaejoong had affected him. Didn’t want the other to have the satisfaction of knowing he’d succeeded in breaking him. He wouldn’t let him use that knowledge, wouldn’t let him play with him any longer. Wouldn’t resist or give the man what he wanted. He would just lay down and take it, wilt and crumble to ash so as to slip through Jaejoong’s fingers at last.
He would also deny Jaejoong everything of the last precious thing he had left. The last thing that was now slightly brighter even than his memories of Yunho, the thing slowly becoming more real and important than all he’d left behind and lost.
So today, once again, he was waiting. Waiting even while telling himself not to. Even though he knew that no one would come. Knew that Yoochun wouldn’t come.
He was out alone in the field once again where it was always gloriously sunny. A warm yellow sun that never seemed
strong enough to melt the icy cold of despair that clutched his heart, never warm enough to comfort or soothe the weary burden of growing apathy he stove so hard to resist.
The beauty of sunlit grass was just as harsh of a lie as the cold blackness of his prison. A mockery of life, of something he
couldn’t appreciate nor have. The sun caressed and colored his skin, but he still felt cold and forgotten. Because now he finally knew what it meant to truly be alone. An empty purposeless existence.
The swaying yellow grass seemed more lonely and pathetic than ever. A pale imitation of what a real natural field should look like. A prison that was slowly become even worse than the dark room where he slept. And still he waited. For something to change this enchanted world into the real one. For something to come save him from it all. For someone who had shown him a fleeting glimpse of the real world that had abandoned him. For someone who wouldn’t come.
The first time he’d seen Yoochun it had been too shortly intense and painful for him to remember much more than the comforting scent of the horse, the smile from a man who couldn’t be anything but a figment of his imagination. Too beautiful and dynamic, alive and real, somehow stumbling into his prison to break it open and whisk him away into dreams every night.
The second time he had been more surprised to see him than the first. Because by then he’d known Yoochun was a real man. Someone who lived outside of his sheltered world, someone who he knew with a far detached part of his mind that was suffering and hurting just like him. He hadn’t understood it at first, hadn’t been able to piece together the overheard conversations of the Sorcerer and Jaejoong until Yoochun had showed him the bruises on his heart.
Then there was nothing to hold him back. Nothing to keep him from focusing everything on Yoochun, someone who could understand him, was oddly somehow a part of him. Someone who came from outside and looked him in the eyes with such warmth, such honesty, even something like care radiating from his eyes. He was a stranger, but they’d been forced together, and Changmin couldn’t believe his luck, the blessed chance to recover himself that day. To remember who he was, how he’d gotten here, what could still be there for him outside of here.
But he knew Yoochun wouldn’t ever be coming back any more. Not after the Sorcerer must have done something horrible to him. Mutilated, his soul sucked from his body, murdered in cold blood, an endless range of possibilities and Changmin would have no way of knowing. He’d even faded to the darkest part of Changmin’s dreams as if his part in Changmin’s life was already over. Changmin didn’t want to believe it. Because Yoochun had been a breath of life to him when he’d finally started to decide to give up.
He hadn’t realized how close he was to giving in until Yoochun had come into his life. Held his hand. Smiled at him. Took the festering terrified weak part of him into himself. Gave him something real and beautiful to focus on, something to hold onto. And then left again just like that.
He didn’t want to let him go because he was afraid he would then really remain lost here. Really would break into pieces and lose himself forever. And even though it was already all slipping away from him, he didn’t actually want to forget himself again. Didn’t want to forget why he needed to live, escape.
So he waited, like a hopeless fool. Waited until the heavy crushing desperation of knowing nothing was coming made him close his eyes to the false beauty around him. Disappointment only too quickly becoming resignation. Regretfully, painfully acknowledging that this all was just a momentary lapse. That the way they’d been connected and found each other, felt each other, was nothing but a mistake. A mistake just like Jaejoong had said. It was all over and back to how it should be. The curse was broken and so was the bond. Yoochun went on his way and Changmin once more became nothing but a slave with no rights even to his own life.
Even so, he’d been thinking of nothing else for days. He couldn’t keep from fantasizing, couldn’t repress the anticipation filling the visions up as he imagined what he would do or say should he see him again, and hoping more than anything that Yoochun was still alive. That he’d come back. Come back and take him away.
More than anything else, meeting the man had sent uncontrollable terrifying flashes of nervous hope coursing through him. The what ifs, the idea that there was something worth fighting for, and the desire to try and take back what was his. To try and escape again.
He couldn’t win against the magic, but what if he had help? But why would Yoochun come back for him after he’d had all his questions answered? He must think their connection was all a hoax, part of the curse, and he must have been driven mercilessly away. He wouldn’t come because Changmin had nothing to offer him, not even the simplest most basic interaction of a shared conversation. There really was no reason to return.
Changmin knew it, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from scanning the far edges of the field. He watched the edge of the forest, so far off, for what felt like hours on end without seeing the slightest sign of movement. It was as if nothing did exist there except for him. As if it weren’t even a real forest but a projection of his mind.
Too many hours spent alone, tortured then healed, and he was losing what little grasp he still had on reality. Nothing moved, made sound, nor even breathed. And Changmin found himself almost wishing he too could become a part of it and just fade into the surrounding scenery, just existing with the nothing together, because he felt that living here like this was already close enough. And now all he wanted was just release. Peace.
It had been too many days, though. Changmin knew it only too well. Knew he was being stupid and irrational to hope or even imagine Yoochun coming or anyone else for that matter. No one would ever find him, and he couldn’t leave.
He’d still be alone by the time the sun set, and then it was back to the dark suffocating hole they called his room. There was nothing for him to do but pace back and forth, attempt to strengthen his body with exercises that had lost all meaning but were so familiar they had become second nature, then walk once again as far as he could in each direction with the forest always to one side.
He’d discovered ever since the first time he’d attempted to escape, that the appearance of the whole place was all a trick. The rolling yellow hills really were endless, unreachable to put it more correctly. No matter how far he walked, they remained resolutely the same distance away, the house always maddeningly in view.
And he’d walked until he was too tired to go further, only to find himself in nearly the same spot he’d started at. It frustrated him to no end, and he supposed it may be real and just be the condition of whatever spell kept him from leaving this place. He did wonder sometimes if maybe Yoochun just couldn’t find the place again for the same reason, but what was the point in believing that? It was more likely he just wasn’t coming back.
He trudged to a stop, sighing, and feeling pointless, empty. What was the point in even living anymore? He’d never consciously thought about giving up, not wanting to give a name to the steadily growing abyss of helplessness, but if he really stopped to consider it, even supposing he escaped somehow, where would he go? What would he even do? He didn’t know the way to the castle here that he should be calling home, the one that Junsu had stolen from him. No one but the traitors knew who he was, and they would sooner kill him than help him.
He was unable to prove himself, unable to even speak in his own defense. He’d been isolated for so long he didn’t have any knowledge of the country or its people. He had nothing. Nothing for him here even if he did escape, and if he succeeded somehow, the Sorcerer would just catch him back or kill him off as there was no way he could imagine ever finding a way home - a place that had sent him away, where he’d no longer be welcomed. A place he hadn’t even thought about for countless weeks.
He hadn’t been able to bear remembering home ever since that night so long ago that Jaejoong had slipped into his room, held him down and forced his way into his mind once again, stealing more private memories, thoughts, feelings. Stealing away days of riding across rain swept blue fields, running under lush dark green boughs, needles beading with water drops and the smell of pine. His moments of freedom and just being himself, pure and unobstructed.
Stealing away youthful carefree nights of swimming in the moonlit lake with Junsu. Moments of friendship and happiness. Stealing away nights of Yunho hugging him tightly huddled together under one blanket until he fell asleep. Moments of love so deep and profound that they belonged to no one but just the two of them. Even so deep as the memories that couldn’t even be captured as images, just an all enveloping comforting smell, sweet warmth, the feel of his mother. All of them now vulgarly tainted and intruded upon by another.
He’d never been so violated or treated so disrespectfully, and where it once had made him so incessantly angry, he now found himself thinking he deserved it, that if the precious pieces he’d treasured couldn’t be mended nor reclaimed he’d leave them. Forget them. Since they were no longer his own, and they were no longer a comfort to him.
Thinking of them now was depressing and painful. He now just fervently wished that he could erase them all so that there would be nothing Jaejoong could use against him. He wanted to be empty and lifeless. Empty of even the most important things he still found himself clinging pathetically to like lifelines, the ones that needed to be severed completely. Because Jaejoong knew what they were, and would use them to hurt him.
His shoulders sagged with the hopeless thoughts. What little hope he’d distracted himself with fell away to expose the yawing hole within him. No way out. Couldn’t even escape by ending his own life. There was no way. Not that he hadn’t already suffered torture enough to die, they just hadn’t let him.
He hadn’t died even after the poison he’d been forced to take, nor even after his heart actually stopping the one time. There was also the knife Jaejoong used to cut him, but he half expected it not to do the job either. It may just mangle his body but not let him die either. He couldn’t even trust a weapon anymore. Not here. Nothing was what it seemed.
Caught up in his thoughts, the hesitant, “Changmin?” from just behind him, nearly gave him a heart attack.
He whirled around, muscles already tensed and ready to run, even as he realized distractedly that the instinct to fight had somewhere along the way deserted him as well. But before he could think about that, he was shocked to find none other than Yoochun standing before him, dark wavy locks curling about his neck, a soft smile on his full lips.
Changmin couldn’t believe his eyes, already expecting the apparition to fade away if not be replaced by the face of Jaejoong, but nothing happened. Yoochun’s expression offered an apology, a greeting, looking so innocently harmless and friendly that he didn’t know what to do.
His next thought was that if Yoochun was real, he didn’t seem to be hurt. But why was he here? With an effort he slowly relaxed. As much as he’d been waiting, watching and hoping, he couldn’t actually believe the man had really come.
The other shifted his weight back and forth gingerly, his smile soon becoming awkward and sheepish. “Sorry-I startled you. I almost couldn’t find you...I wandered around forever...” His smile didn’t leave his face as Changmin continued to merely watch him mutely. “I wasn’t sure you’d even be out here...but it was worth a try, and...here...you are.”
His brow furrowed slightly, as if he was puzzling over what his own mouth was saying, and Changmin suddenly felt the urge to laugh. It rose up sluggish and uncomfortable, as if resisting with every last bit of strength. What came out was merely a small ghost of a smile. But it too felt strained and out of place on his own face.
He hadn’t had anything to smile or laugh about for months on end...ever since he’d heard his father’s royal command. And now it felt almost uncontrollable, the latent force of it trying to burst free. Too much joy at having Yoochun before him. Because that meant not only was he unharmed and real, but that Changmin himself was worth something. That what he had felt wasn’t merely an illusion or a dream. That Yoochun had felt it too, that somehow it had caused the other to return.
Yoochun chuckled slightly, awkward and unsure, but the sound was rich and contagious. Changmin was struck with the feeling like he wanted to break the awkward air between them, to smooth over the faint pink of Yoochun’s embarrassment, but not being able to speak made it impossible. He still couldn’t believe the other was here before him, and it didn’t really make any sense to him. How? And more importantly, why?
At a loss for the what to do, he glanced around them, noticing the other was on foot with no sign of his horse anywhere nearby. Yoochun followed his curious gaze slowly, eyes lighting before he spoke with a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Are you looking for my horse?”
Changmin nodded simply, meeting his eyes. They were so black, dark flecks of charcoal that didn’t reflect the sunlight. So like Jaejoong’s, yet so different. They curved kindly, were friendly, lit up his face.
“I left him in the trees...just in case.” He paused, shifting uneasily as the very wind weighing on his mind ruffled his long
hair gently. “Would you like to see him?”
Changmin simply nodded, not wanting to seem too eager, but Yoochun’s smile meant he’d seen it that way. He beckoned and Changmin followed, intending to follow his lead but Yoochun instead fell back to walk side by side, matching his stride.
It was a strange sensation, one he now felt to be horribly uncomfortable. He had learned the hard way to linger behind with his head bowed like a servant, like the slave he actually was, every time the Sorcerer called him.
But from the way Yoochun continued glancing at his face as they walked, especially his lips, he understood the other was watching to see if he’d speak, to read his lips if possible. It was the only possible explanation he could think of for the glances, but it took him a bit of will power to keep himself from ducking his head away from the attention as his instincts told him, or else look up and meeting those eyes with a challenge like he would have done before, back in a time that now seemed a lifetime ago.
He realized unpleasantly how much he’d really changed since he’d left home, new reactions becoming more dominant, more comfortable, accompanied by less of a struggle with his old self as the new steadily took over. The fighter failing and weakening under the desperate, hopeless, brainwashing power of the slave. Neither felt like the real him anymore, but here with only Yoochun he didn’t have someone forcing him to be one or the other, nor did he have to find the strength to chose one. So he did neither.
The trees which had seemed continually the same distance ahead as they always were, were suddenly rearing up before them, dark and leafy. Closer than he’d ever come to the forest edge before and a thrill went up his spine as the dark green shadows beneath the scraggly branches sunk sinister and threatening into space, a thorny sort of wall warming him not to come any closer.
The longer he looked, the more they tangled and crept among each other, rustles becoming murmurs, becoming snarls and snapping growls of aggression. And he feared he’d come too far, that finally he’d dared to test the bounds of the curses meant to keep him here when he wasn’t sure he was ready to do so.
His step faltered and that seemed to be as much as he could do before suddenly his whole body was freezing up, mere paces away from the forest edge where he could just make out the glossy white of Yoochun’s horse.
Yoochun came to a stop beside him as well, looking curious, but now that he wanted to, Changmin found he couldn’t turn to even look at him. His eyes were locked in place, straight ahead and unable to even blink. His breath slowed and went shallow as his lungs became paralyzed mid-breath, and his legs became heavy and numb as if turned to stone.
He couldn’t move, could only panic silently as the angry snapping of branches and mutters of trees grew louder, more threatening, filling and deafening his ears. A gentle voice penetrated the sound as Yoochun suddenly moved closer beside him.
“Changmin. What’s wrong?”
Changmin would have felt touched by the real concern sounding in his voice were it not for the panic overwhelming him as his mind raced, heart struggling to pound out his fear even as it too began to slowly come to a standstill inside his very chest. He couldn’t respond, couldn’t call for help and it didn’t matter that Yoochun was beside him or focusing on him, there was nothing he could do for him against the force holding him captive within his own body.
“Hey...look at me.” Yoochun coaxed gently leaning in to peer into his face. He could barely focus on the words as his whole body struggled and fought to breathe through leaden heavy lungs.
Yoochun was moving to face him, looking at him worriedly, anxious and not without a dark shadow of uncertainty. But there was no way for him to know the cause of Changmin’s behavior, that Jaejoong was controlling him and hurting him even when he wasn’t actually present or there.
He couldn’t get enough air as the anxiety was demanding, a low rushing sound slowly filling and muffling his ears. He couldn’t hear what Yoochun was saying, the face before him blurring as his chest burned, heart faltering as it labored to catch up with his racing thoughts.
The color of the world was fading to smudges of gray consuming sparks of black. Dull and empty as heavy as his body. He couldn’t hold on much longer, a breath before passing out, only too aware that his body may just collapse in on itself and suffocate him to death.
Just then, something touched his shoulder and Changmin’s body shuddered violently at the contact. Even through the paralysis he could feel it. So gentle, an act of support, concern, and then he was collapsing.
Yoochun wasn’t quick enough to stabilize or catch him as he sank to the ground, body once again his own, blood pounding so hard through his ears it blotted out all sound, limbs screaming and tingling with each pump of life through his aching veins.
He coughed and gasped, great heaving breaths rocking his frame, the flow of air invading his lungs all at once so sharp and painful, hardly feeling like something so precious and essential with the way it made him sputter pathetically.
Yoochun knelt before him, voice steady and deep, calming, telling him it was okay, but Changmin didn’t even know what those words were supposed to mean.
He clutched at his heart as it slowly steadied, chancing a look up at the other. Why did he have to come here to see this? Why did he seek him out again even after all either of them experienced around each other was pain? He suddenly didn’t want him there, feeling ashamed and so small at the way he was so completely powerless even over his own body, so easily thrown and cast about on the whims of magic.
But there was no mockery of laughter in Yoochun’s eyes. No carefully concealed disgust. Nothing but a shining sheen over the dark orbs that he didn’t even want to try to believe in.
“What happened?” He was whispering, as if he’d set off something horrible again, and Changmin was able to shake his head slightly, not even needing to send a meaningful look to where the house lay some ways behind them. Yoochun seemed to choke on a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
Once again, those two words he’d heard so many times from the other man in their few short encounters, but words that he couldn’t understand where they came from, why the man said them so often. Words that did nothing, changed nothing.
He let the words hang in the air awkwardly without a response, not sure what he should do for them and wanting to let them fade so he could forget them. Carefully he scooted himself back a few feet, guessing he had reached the limit to his range of freedom, eyeing the forest that had fallen still and silent once again.
Yoochun, too, looked at the forest warily. “Something’s in there.”
He spoke as if to himself and Changmin wanted to say that no, there wasn’t. That yes, there was, but only for Changmin. Even though branches no longer screamed or writhed as if possessed, the oddly jerking swings as the wind caught at them seemed as if they were seizing it and ravishing it whole. He moved back a little more, trying to tear his gaze away, feeling Yoochun shifting uneasily beside him.
“Wait here a moment.” He said before getting to his feet. Walking to where his horse was waiting calmly despite all the unrest of the forest, his eyes roamed the expanse of green all the while as if he could spot something.
Changmin wanted to tell him he should be more concerned about turning his back on the dark house that lay behind them. But Yoochun most certainly would be aware of that considering the way they’d been caught by the Sorcerer and Jaejoong the last time. He had no way of asking him what had happened that day, and could only hope that the reason Yoochun was here now was not for any purpose of business with the Sorcerer. He surely wouldn’t return here again if he’d been hurt previously, and Changmin wondered if the bruises across Yoochun’s chest were also faded into nothing.
He could only think how impossible it was for the man to be here now. A stranger on such dangerous lands, and Changmin was just walking with him as if he trusted him. He doubted the man to be a magician himself with the way he’d spoken the other day, but he couldn’t understand what type of man would come to such a place merely to spend time with a cursed slave.
Why did you come back? Who are you?
The two questions were running rampant through his head but he told himself they were unimportant as long as the other continued to show no signs of hostility or violence. He didn’t know how he would deal with losing the sweet comfort and connection he’d found when sharing his dreams with Yoochun if the other should prove to be someone with ill intentions, even if he had nothing to lose but his hope.
Getting heavily to his feet, Changmin took a few more slow steps back towards a place that was by no means safer, but somehow now seemed so desperately familiar. Yoochun was already coming back towards him, his horse following docilely behind.
Changmin’s attention was instantly captivated by the large brown eyes and a silky nose. He was reaching for the animal before he even had the sense to ask permission. It was a subconscious reflex, a plea for comfort and warmth, the surety and unchangeability of something so beautiful and special to him. A deep unconditional understanding of the animals that had time and time again stolen and soothed his young aching heart.
The horse greeted him with a huff of sweet hay fragrant breath. He ran trembling fingers across its coarse coat, reveling in the feel of the strength of the muscles beneath, of the warm life in each rise and fall of breath. He leaned his forehead upon its neck and breathed deeply, feeling nearly instant calm and serenity seeping into him from the scent alone.
Standing still for him, the horse did nothing but toss its tail slightly, providing everything he needed and more. Giving him the sweetest caress of a memory, a faded tattered painful breath of what he’d lost and forgotten, of what was still waiting for him outside of this prison.
Yoochun spoke long minutes later, reminding him of his presence. His voice was once more so kind and nonthreatening, alive with rising bubbles of amusement and warmth.
“You’ve really got a way with horses.” A hint of awe in his voice and Changmin found he couldn’t look at him. Not yet. “Can you...speak to them?”
Changmin would have laughed at the question had it not been so innocently earnest. Anyone could speak to horses just by stopping to listen to what they had to say, through spending years together with them, raising them, growing and running free together. He had done so once. But not anymore. He’d been harnessed and broken in more thoroughly than any horse he’d ever trained or seen.
And no, what voice did he have to speak with? He felt oddly bitter at the thought, an uncomfortable warmth curling the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t been reminded of the way he was so disfigured and crippled except for when Yoochun was there speaking to him, always asking questions that hurt, and being just so frustratingly curious.
He stroked the horse’s muzzle affectionately, enjoying the feeling of coming back to himself bit by bit even as it scared him with the knowledge he could never really have it all back. Himself back. That he’d have to forget and let it go, lose himself once more as soon as this moment ended.
Almost for the first time since his whole life had changed, grief hit him then, thick and suffocating. And all he could think was that he wanted, needed to feel racing hooves beneath him, feel wind rushing about him, the churning power of being carried along in a breathless run. A run he chose, one he cherished, one into which he’d always throw himself with wild abandon, losing himself in the most glorious way. Maybe that way, by choosing to cast it all away as he had so many times before, maybe then he’d be ready to let go and return to the darkness of his reality.
He pulled his head away from the horse sharply, knowing he was being horribly rude but trying not to resent Yoochun his freedom as he turned to meet his eyes.
Yoochun didn’t look upset or offended, he was just watching him with his head tilted slightly to one side, expression unreadable. Changmin stared at him steadily, boldly requesting something that he shouldn’t dare to ask, something he knew fully well he could no longer have since he was nothing but a slave and prisoner. But something he so stubbornly selfishly wanted even if just only for one last time.
“You want to ride, don’t you?”
Changmin had the decency to blush slightly at his demanding assuming attitude, but nodded all the same. He bit his lip as hope surged within him, even while knowing this time would be his last.
Yoochun broke into a small laugh, his face bright and softening beautifully with the flash of his smile. “Just one question...I have no idea how you can communicate so well with just your eyes, but...have you always been unable to speak?”
Changmin turned from the once again openly curious eyes, patting the horse instead. He shook his head slowly and Yoochun breathed a soft, ‘Ah.’ in response. Before he could turn away to mount the horse, Yoochun was moving in closer, stepping up beside him under the shadow of the animal’s high neck.
“What...what happened?” A hesitant murmur like asking for a secret and trying to tread lightly on something no one should directly ask about.
Changmin stared at his own fingers tangling in the horses’ mane, able to feel the heat of a gaze heavy on his face, the lingering question pressing against him and stilling the air. He still didn’t even know who the man was, still didn’t even know why he was there, why he himself had been waiting for him or why he wanted to trust him. But for now he was no longer lost, no longer losing his mind isolated and tortured, watched day and night, and he knew he wasn’t dreaming. Right here and now this collected sense of himself was all thanks to Yoochun.
They took my voice.
He drew the words into the shoulder of the horse, not sure if Yoochun was even watching to catch the reply or not. But when a hand slowly rose to hover above his own, so close they almost touched, he turned his head to take in the dark uncertainty of shock marring the other’s face.
He was looking at their hands, but as a whisper was torn from his lips he turned to catch his eye and hold him with a deep penetrating look.
“Why?”
Changmin was frozen under that gaze, under the hidden force of the single word, and he momentarily forgot how to breathe. Yoochun watched him steadily, waiting for him, making him into something so important and he didn’t know why the feeling made him feel so scared.
He broke the moment first, moving jerkily to the horse’s side, foot in the stirrup and throwing his leg across the saddle in no more than a heartbeat. Hardly had he mounted and he kicked the horse into motion, Yoochun jumping back with a startled sound as the horse leapt into the golden grass, crushing it beneath heavy striding steps as Changmin immediately urged it into a run.
Trying to leave behind the unanswered question, escape the chance of admitting the truth of who and what he was, unable to reveal the reason he was here at all. Who was Yoochun to ask such things? He could be anyone. Or no one. But Changmin didn’t want him to know.
He’d already come to the conclusion long ago that it would be foolish to try and tell the truth to anyone in this country. Not when they already believed Junsu to be the true prince already long escorting their Crown Prince, not when Junsu was backed by the support and power of soldiers, not when his own countrymen wanted him dead, not when he was left for dead and his life was traded and bound to servitude of the Sorcerer. Yoochun wouldn’t believe him for an instant and he didn’t want to see the change in his eyes as a mere slave boasted a fanciful absurd story, claiming a position that was obviously not his.
He leaned down closer over the horses neck as it charged across the field, squeezing his eyes closed as the wind tore tears from them, tossing crystal droplets silently in his wake.
**
Yoochun could only watch, bewildered, as Changmin promptly galloped away from him, melting into the horse naturally and riding with so much practiced ease he didn’t doubt for a moment he was a seasoned rider. He sped away quickly and Yoochun brushed away the stray thought that the other had just taken his horse to run away.
But as he watched the way Changmin let the horse run and run and run before slowing and suddenly turning at an abrupt angle to then charge across the field in another direction, he realized that only moments before he had just seen firsthand the way Changmin seemed bound to this place, unable to cross some invisible line. Some line that had seemed dangerously painful, something that had held him back fiercely enough to almost kill him, and Yoochun didn’t think even letting Changmin ride like this would subdue the regret and sorrow he felt for causing him to go through that. He could only wonder if Changmin had never gotten caught in the spell before or not, as he had willingly walked with him until that moment it had struck.
Now galloping across the field he looked so free and unstoppable. Unattainable. Contrasting so horribly with the way he was actually enslaved in such a place. He now felt he understood why the Sorcerer gave Changmin the freedom to roam unattended outside as there was obviously dark magic at work to ensure he was unable to leave.
It was an disconcerting thought and Yoochun tried not to listen to the way the trees creaked and groaned against each other behind him. Tried not to see the way the lowly whistling bodiless wind bent and twisted the golden stalks violently as if trying to rip them from the ground or wring their necks.
He’d been able to find his way here and leave twice already, but he knew he couldn’t assume his safe departure from the place at all. In fact he assumed the opposite, expecting Jaejoong to materialize before them at any moment. A black spot amongst gold to turn the glorious sight of Changmin riding across yellow waves into the stumbling cold decay of his horse rotting as it fell to the ground.
Yoochun tried to clear the image, to shake the feeling creeping along his skin, unable to deny the way that Changmin’s face seemed twisted in agony as he nearly lay himself across the neck of his mount.
He couldn’t see clearly as the horse turned yet again to ride swiftly in the other direction, but he knew that as breathtaking and amazing as Changmin had looked when he reached for and touched his horse, that the way he stroked it spoke of something precious and important to him, there had been no light or happiness in his eyes even then. They hadn’t seemed dead like they did in his most recent nightmares, but had been alive with something else which he understood all too well himself. Something like a caged animal, something wild yet trapped, something that didn’t understand anything but fear and a silent scream of no.
That one moment staring into the tormented depths of Changin’s eyes, and Yoochun had been filled slowly with a heavy burden of emotions. Things he didn’t know what to do with, and he felt deeply the exact reason why Changmin had wanted to mount the horse and ride away. As if he could outrun the things that plagued him, as if by running hard enough and fast enough he could be free.
Yoochun smiled sadly as he watched the other. A lonely figure atop the glowing brilliance of the horse, the colors of him struggling to take in and emulate the power and life, to rise up and find again that similar strength within himself, but only able to cling to the unassuming unalterable beauty of nature.
Back and forth, down and across. Riding until sweat glistened off the white coat of his horse, darkened the hair at the nape of Changmin’s neck, shone off his flushed cheeks so that Yoochun could pretend the wet tracks shining there had just been sweat all along. And still he watched.
It could have been hours or just mere minutes, but when suddenly Changmin straightened in the saddle, hands releasing their hold on the reins to reach and spread his arms out to each side instead, Yoochun could do nothing but stare. Still rushing across the field at a fast pace, Changmin seemed to be flying as he embraced the sky, face upturned and eyes closed as the wind threaded through his hair, brushed greedy fingers across the planes of his face as he smiled up at the sun. Laughing and gorgeous, the absence of the actual sound unimportant as he could clearly hear it ring across the sunny air, pure, beautiful, and free.
And in that moment he looked so amazingly brilliant, strong and captivating that Yoochun couldn’t tear his eyes away, breath catching as a sudden unexpected hot burn stung behind his eyes. He couldn’t force it away and didn’t want to as he couldn’t bear to lose the feeling that hit him as Changmin turned into an angel before his very eyes.
It was much too short, a single moment that he wanted to suspend into a little bit of forever, but Changmin was already coming back towards him at last, and he sniffed, roughly passing the back of his knuckles across his eyes. They came away dry and he found he could breathe again.
Changmin dismounted in a tumble of long legs, one hand steadying himself against the muscled shoulder of the horse as he caught his breath. Yoochun continued to stare at the way he looked, windswept and glowing, his face flushed and eyes sparkling.
He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how he could ever forget this moment, didn’t know how a single horse ride could change a person so completely. He wanted to know what it was, what magic had done it, and when Changmin turned to look at him directly in the eyes, smile bright and eyes curving into mismatched crescents, Yoochun didn’t even need to read his lips to know, didn’t even need the soft brush of fingers across the back of his wrist to feel it.
Thank you.
And the words echoed in Yoochun’s heart. Reverberating and tightening his chest. He knew he should say something. Tell him anytime. Anytime he wanted to ride, that the horse was now his. That whatever he wanted he would gladly give. That there was nothing valuable enough to repay the gift Changmin had unknowingly given him.
But the words were stuck in his throat, tight and painful the way it felt when he’d try to hold tears back for too long. He didn’t know why this hurt, why he felt so inconsolably sad.
He managed to shake his head to the silent question brimming in Changmin’s eyes. When he finally gathered himself enough to speak, his voice sounded gruff and thick, catching on the last word and hardly carrying even the smallest fraction of the emotions threatening to spill from his eyes.
“You...looked so free.”
And the words sounded so ugly and crude, crushing the light and radiance that Changmin had brought back with him. Changmin’s smile faded and he stared at Yoochun for a single heart throbbing moment, a moment in which Yoochun felt himself spilling open uncontrollably, every last hope and desire, every last hurt and failure clearly displayed for Changmin’s liquid brown eyes to see. Then the smile was gone completely, his gaze dropping before his bangs fell to cover his eyes.
It was an abrupt shove back into reality and Yoochun swallowed the lump still blocking his throat. Yet another useless apology unable to break free from behind it.
Freedom. Always an illusion no matter how realistic it seemed, no matter how long the moment lasted. He didn’t want to stop pretending, if only here in this magical place with no one else but Changmin. Here where everything was already under a spell, he would lie. He would lie to himself and pretend, let himself be carried away however he wanted, however Changmin wanted.
If only just here, no one could tell him ‘no’ or try to bind his wings, to conform him to what they saw fit. To mold him and order his life to their liking as he merely followed unable to protect himself, unable to protest and take his own life in his hands.
Because Yoochun had been so wrong. He had thought of himself as irrevocably broken. He had thought he was bound to his fate, thought he could never escape from his title, thought his life’s sole purpose was to serve and follow the ways of his kingdom, his people, and now the Sorcerer, regardless if he wanted to or not. But here before him was a man who’s wings had not been bound, no, they had been clipped. Never to fly again. Never to be free again.
But even so, the look in his glowing eyes had showed he still hadn’t given up trying. He was truly beaten and broken, was truly lost with no power over his life, even over his own body. Yet even so he still held on.
Held onto what? Yoochun wished he could ask. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg. Give Changmin the world if he would just tell him that one thing.
Please teach me. Tell me your secret so I can fly again. I’ll fly away from here at last. And I’ll take you with me.
**********
next chapter ~
Pairing: Jaemin, Yoomin
Length: Chapter 12/22
Genre: fantasy, adventure, angst,drama
Disclaimer: idea based on goose-girl fairy tale ~
Summary: Changmin has no control over his life as he's forced to leave his home to become the escort of the Crown Prince in a faraway land. Before he can even reach his destination, he's betrayed by his own guard and barely escapes death, finding himself alone and forgotten in a dark forsaken land where magic is real and even the moon has deserted the sky.
A/N: oh my writers blockㅠㅠ had the yoomin part done for ages but the rest just wouldn't come. be prepared for a flood of emotional drama x_x! super long like always so had to break into part a/b, hope you enjoy it <3 thank u for following the story even through all the long waits TT love you all~~*hugs*
Previous Chapters: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve (a) |
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It would be a lie if he said he wasn't waiting. Like a fool finding hope in a lie or in his case a dead man thinking he could live again. When that was no longer his right. When he already knew it fully well.
But Yoochun’s abrupt intrusion into his life had shaken his world, reminded him that even if he was not living he was still alive, that although he felt broken and nearly dead, he was not disabled or ruined too severely to never recover. Reminded him that there were still things to smile about, still words not filled with magic, and most importantly that there were other people outside of the two men who governed his life.
Like usual these days, the Sorcerer had left in the morning, and if it was just another normal day, he wouldn't return until the evening. It wasn't Changmin's business knowing, but he had come to memorize the habits and patterns of the two lest he need to mentally prepare himself for rounds of painful experimentation.
Now with the increased absences of the Sorcerer, he could almost say he had a semblance of a normal existence. Especially with the way Jaejoong now left him shockingly alone. Months on end of being ever caught under the dark scrutiny, never a moment of pure solitude or being able to relax with the presence shadowing both waking and sleeping moments, suddenly dissolved into nothing. No one.
He was truly absent from Changmin’s life, the water and food he left him daily the only sign that he was even still there. It had been like this ever since Jaejoong had been split open by anger, ever since his curse had gone violently wrong. And it was the one time Changmin had come to realize he’d actually been left for dead. He’d kept distance and hidden away since then. Since the time Changmin had been healed by the sun and nearly fallen irretrievably captive to the sweet seduction of a suddenly very human Jaejoong. Whatever the reason, he’d been alone for days now. Ever since Jaejoong had started becoming...different.
Days felt like years without the interaction of another person, even one so terrifying and unpredictable as Jaejoong. The only proof that he’d really been there were the burns he’d left on Changmin’s shoulders. The ones that he’d never healed. And they were beginning to turn into thick ugly white scars. Scars vividly displayed in a horrid mockery of hands grabbing him.
There was nothing Changmin could do to keep them from turning into a hideous mark across his skin. Something that felt like a brand. Something that made him feel inferior, lower than a slave. No better than an animal. Though what mattered the most was that he couldn’t even find it within himself to be angry. Anger took too much energy, needed fuel and motivation of which he had run out.
All that was left was the ugly black tar of hate smearing his insides and blackening everything there that had once been sweet and bright. He felt disgusted by the marks, felt like they went deeper than the surface of his skin, that they were merely a physically manifested mirror for the darkness that had filled him up inside.
Hate was all he had now. The only thing that could keep the fear at bay. Hate that grew stronger as the person he used to be got smaller, got lost. And he didn’t think he even wanted to find himself back, since his old self had been too weak and easily beaten down. He’d been a fool, let Jaejoong manipulate him and take things away, had let himself be stripped of all that was important and left him disfigured and broken in its wake.
Even so, he struggled to hide his emotions. He didn’t want Jaejoong to know he still cared enough to hate. Didn’t want the other to know just how much he’d changed nor how much Jaejoong had affected him. Didn’t want the other to have the satisfaction of knowing he’d succeeded in breaking him. He wouldn’t let him use that knowledge, wouldn’t let him play with him any longer. Wouldn’t resist or give the man what he wanted. He would just lay down and take it, wilt and crumble to ash so as to slip through Jaejoong’s fingers at last.
He would also deny Jaejoong everything of the last precious thing he had left. The last thing that was now slightly brighter even than his memories of Yunho, the thing slowly becoming more real and important than all he’d left behind and lost.
So today, once again, he was waiting. Waiting even while telling himself not to. Even though he knew that no one would come. Knew that Yoochun wouldn’t come.
He was out alone in the field once again where it was always gloriously sunny. A warm yellow sun that never seemed
strong enough to melt the icy cold of despair that clutched his heart, never warm enough to comfort or soothe the weary burden of growing apathy he stove so hard to resist.
The beauty of sunlit grass was just as harsh of a lie as the cold blackness of his prison. A mockery of life, of something he
couldn’t appreciate nor have. The sun caressed and colored his skin, but he still felt cold and forgotten. Because now he finally knew what it meant to truly be alone. An empty purposeless existence.
The swaying yellow grass seemed more lonely and pathetic than ever. A pale imitation of what a real natural field should look like. A prison that was slowly become even worse than the dark room where he slept. And still he waited. For something to change this enchanted world into the real one. For something to come save him from it all. For someone who had shown him a fleeting glimpse of the real world that had abandoned him. For someone who wouldn’t come.
The first time he’d seen Yoochun it had been too shortly intense and painful for him to remember much more than the comforting scent of the horse, the smile from a man who couldn’t be anything but a figment of his imagination. Too beautiful and dynamic, alive and real, somehow stumbling into his prison to break it open and whisk him away into dreams every night.
The second time he had been more surprised to see him than the first. Because by then he’d known Yoochun was a real man. Someone who lived outside of his sheltered world, someone who he knew with a far detached part of his mind that was suffering and hurting just like him. He hadn’t understood it at first, hadn’t been able to piece together the overheard conversations of the Sorcerer and Jaejoong until Yoochun had showed him the bruises on his heart.
Then there was nothing to hold him back. Nothing to keep him from focusing everything on Yoochun, someone who could understand him, was oddly somehow a part of him. Someone who came from outside and looked him in the eyes with such warmth, such honesty, even something like care radiating from his eyes. He was a stranger, but they’d been forced together, and Changmin couldn’t believe his luck, the blessed chance to recover himself that day. To remember who he was, how he’d gotten here, what could still be there for him outside of here.
But he knew Yoochun wouldn’t ever be coming back any more. Not after the Sorcerer must have done something horrible to him. Mutilated, his soul sucked from his body, murdered in cold blood, an endless range of possibilities and Changmin would have no way of knowing. He’d even faded to the darkest part of Changmin’s dreams as if his part in Changmin’s life was already over. Changmin didn’t want to believe it. Because Yoochun had been a breath of life to him when he’d finally started to decide to give up.
He hadn’t realized how close he was to giving in until Yoochun had come into his life. Held his hand. Smiled at him. Took the festering terrified weak part of him into himself. Gave him something real and beautiful to focus on, something to hold onto. And then left again just like that.
He didn’t want to let him go because he was afraid he would then really remain lost here. Really would break into pieces and lose himself forever. And even though it was already all slipping away from him, he didn’t actually want to forget himself again. Didn’t want to forget why he needed to live, escape.
So he waited, like a hopeless fool. Waited until the heavy crushing desperation of knowing nothing was coming made him close his eyes to the false beauty around him. Disappointment only too quickly becoming resignation. Regretfully, painfully acknowledging that this all was just a momentary lapse. That the way they’d been connected and found each other, felt each other, was nothing but a mistake. A mistake just like Jaejoong had said. It was all over and back to how it should be. The curse was broken and so was the bond. Yoochun went on his way and Changmin once more became nothing but a slave with no rights even to his own life.
Even so, he’d been thinking of nothing else for days. He couldn’t keep from fantasizing, couldn’t repress the anticipation filling the visions up as he imagined what he would do or say should he see him again, and hoping more than anything that Yoochun was still alive. That he’d come back. Come back and take him away.
More than anything else, meeting the man had sent uncontrollable terrifying flashes of nervous hope coursing through him. The what ifs, the idea that there was something worth fighting for, and the desire to try and take back what was his. To try and escape again.
He couldn’t win against the magic, but what if he had help? But why would Yoochun come back for him after he’d had all his questions answered? He must think their connection was all a hoax, part of the curse, and he must have been driven mercilessly away. He wouldn’t come because Changmin had nothing to offer him, not even the simplest most basic interaction of a shared conversation. There really was no reason to return.
Changmin knew it, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from scanning the far edges of the field. He watched the edge of the forest, so far off, for what felt like hours on end without seeing the slightest sign of movement. It was as if nothing did exist there except for him. As if it weren’t even a real forest but a projection of his mind.
Too many hours spent alone, tortured then healed, and he was losing what little grasp he still had on reality. Nothing moved, made sound, nor even breathed. And Changmin found himself almost wishing he too could become a part of it and just fade into the surrounding scenery, just existing with the nothing together, because he felt that living here like this was already close enough. And now all he wanted was just release. Peace.
It had been too many days, though. Changmin knew it only too well. Knew he was being stupid and irrational to hope or even imagine Yoochun coming or anyone else for that matter. No one would ever find him, and he couldn’t leave.
He’d still be alone by the time the sun set, and then it was back to the dark suffocating hole they called his room. There was nothing for him to do but pace back and forth, attempt to strengthen his body with exercises that had lost all meaning but were so familiar they had become second nature, then walk once again as far as he could in each direction with the forest always to one side.
He’d discovered ever since the first time he’d attempted to escape, that the appearance of the whole place was all a trick. The rolling yellow hills really were endless, unreachable to put it more correctly. No matter how far he walked, they remained resolutely the same distance away, the house always maddeningly in view.
And he’d walked until he was too tired to go further, only to find himself in nearly the same spot he’d started at. It frustrated him to no end, and he supposed it may be real and just be the condition of whatever spell kept him from leaving this place. He did wonder sometimes if maybe Yoochun just couldn’t find the place again for the same reason, but what was the point in believing that? It was more likely he just wasn’t coming back.
He trudged to a stop, sighing, and feeling pointless, empty. What was the point in even living anymore? He’d never consciously thought about giving up, not wanting to give a name to the steadily growing abyss of helplessness, but if he really stopped to consider it, even supposing he escaped somehow, where would he go? What would he even do? He didn’t know the way to the castle here that he should be calling home, the one that Junsu had stolen from him. No one but the traitors knew who he was, and they would sooner kill him than help him.
He was unable to prove himself, unable to even speak in his own defense. He’d been isolated for so long he didn’t have any knowledge of the country or its people. He had nothing. Nothing for him here even if he did escape, and if he succeeded somehow, the Sorcerer would just catch him back or kill him off as there was no way he could imagine ever finding a way home - a place that had sent him away, where he’d no longer be welcomed. A place he hadn’t even thought about for countless weeks.
He hadn’t been able to bear remembering home ever since that night so long ago that Jaejoong had slipped into his room, held him down and forced his way into his mind once again, stealing more private memories, thoughts, feelings. Stealing away days of riding across rain swept blue fields, running under lush dark green boughs, needles beading with water drops and the smell of pine. His moments of freedom and just being himself, pure and unobstructed.
Stealing away youthful carefree nights of swimming in the moonlit lake with Junsu. Moments of friendship and happiness. Stealing away nights of Yunho hugging him tightly huddled together under one blanket until he fell asleep. Moments of love so deep and profound that they belonged to no one but just the two of them. Even so deep as the memories that couldn’t even be captured as images, just an all enveloping comforting smell, sweet warmth, the feel of his mother. All of them now vulgarly tainted and intruded upon by another.
He’d never been so violated or treated so disrespectfully, and where it once had made him so incessantly angry, he now found himself thinking he deserved it, that if the precious pieces he’d treasured couldn’t be mended nor reclaimed he’d leave them. Forget them. Since they were no longer his own, and they were no longer a comfort to him.
Thinking of them now was depressing and painful. He now just fervently wished that he could erase them all so that there would be nothing Jaejoong could use against him. He wanted to be empty and lifeless. Empty of even the most important things he still found himself clinging pathetically to like lifelines, the ones that needed to be severed completely. Because Jaejoong knew what they were, and would use them to hurt him.
His shoulders sagged with the hopeless thoughts. What little hope he’d distracted himself with fell away to expose the yawing hole within him. No way out. Couldn’t even escape by ending his own life. There was no way. Not that he hadn’t already suffered torture enough to die, they just hadn’t let him.
He hadn’t died even after the poison he’d been forced to take, nor even after his heart actually stopping the one time. There was also the knife Jaejoong used to cut him, but he half expected it not to do the job either. It may just mangle his body but not let him die either. He couldn’t even trust a weapon anymore. Not here. Nothing was what it seemed.
Caught up in his thoughts, the hesitant, “Changmin?” from just behind him, nearly gave him a heart attack.
He whirled around, muscles already tensed and ready to run, even as he realized distractedly that the instinct to fight had somewhere along the way deserted him as well. But before he could think about that, he was shocked to find none other than Yoochun standing before him, dark wavy locks curling about his neck, a soft smile on his full lips.
Changmin couldn’t believe his eyes, already expecting the apparition to fade away if not be replaced by the face of Jaejoong, but nothing happened. Yoochun’s expression offered an apology, a greeting, looking so innocently harmless and friendly that he didn’t know what to do.
His next thought was that if Yoochun was real, he didn’t seem to be hurt. But why was he here? With an effort he slowly relaxed. As much as he’d been waiting, watching and hoping, he couldn’t actually believe the man had really come.
The other shifted his weight back and forth gingerly, his smile soon becoming awkward and sheepish. “Sorry-I startled you. I almost couldn’t find you...I wandered around forever...” His smile didn’t leave his face as Changmin continued to merely watch him mutely. “I wasn’t sure you’d even be out here...but it was worth a try, and...here...you are.”
His brow furrowed slightly, as if he was puzzling over what his own mouth was saying, and Changmin suddenly felt the urge to laugh. It rose up sluggish and uncomfortable, as if resisting with every last bit of strength. What came out was merely a small ghost of a smile. But it too felt strained and out of place on his own face.
He hadn’t had anything to smile or laugh about for months on end...ever since he’d heard his father’s royal command. And now it felt almost uncontrollable, the latent force of it trying to burst free. Too much joy at having Yoochun before him. Because that meant not only was he unharmed and real, but that Changmin himself was worth something. That what he had felt wasn’t merely an illusion or a dream. That Yoochun had felt it too, that somehow it had caused the other to return.
Yoochun chuckled slightly, awkward and unsure, but the sound was rich and contagious. Changmin was struck with the feeling like he wanted to break the awkward air between them, to smooth over the faint pink of Yoochun’s embarrassment, but not being able to speak made it impossible. He still couldn’t believe the other was here before him, and it didn’t really make any sense to him. How? And more importantly, why?
At a loss for the what to do, he glanced around them, noticing the other was on foot with no sign of his horse anywhere nearby. Yoochun followed his curious gaze slowly, eyes lighting before he spoke with a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Are you looking for my horse?”
Changmin nodded simply, meeting his eyes. They were so black, dark flecks of charcoal that didn’t reflect the sunlight. So like Jaejoong’s, yet so different. They curved kindly, were friendly, lit up his face.
“I left him in the trees...just in case.” He paused, shifting uneasily as the very wind weighing on his mind ruffled his long
hair gently. “Would you like to see him?”
Changmin simply nodded, not wanting to seem too eager, but Yoochun’s smile meant he’d seen it that way. He beckoned and Changmin followed, intending to follow his lead but Yoochun instead fell back to walk side by side, matching his stride.
It was a strange sensation, one he now felt to be horribly uncomfortable. He had learned the hard way to linger behind with his head bowed like a servant, like the slave he actually was, every time the Sorcerer called him.
But from the way Yoochun continued glancing at his face as they walked, especially his lips, he understood the other was watching to see if he’d speak, to read his lips if possible. It was the only possible explanation he could think of for the glances, but it took him a bit of will power to keep himself from ducking his head away from the attention as his instincts told him, or else look up and meeting those eyes with a challenge like he would have done before, back in a time that now seemed a lifetime ago.
He realized unpleasantly how much he’d really changed since he’d left home, new reactions becoming more dominant, more comfortable, accompanied by less of a struggle with his old self as the new steadily took over. The fighter failing and weakening under the desperate, hopeless, brainwashing power of the slave. Neither felt like the real him anymore, but here with only Yoochun he didn’t have someone forcing him to be one or the other, nor did he have to find the strength to chose one. So he did neither.
The trees which had seemed continually the same distance ahead as they always were, were suddenly rearing up before them, dark and leafy. Closer than he’d ever come to the forest edge before and a thrill went up his spine as the dark green shadows beneath the scraggly branches sunk sinister and threatening into space, a thorny sort of wall warming him not to come any closer.
The longer he looked, the more they tangled and crept among each other, rustles becoming murmurs, becoming snarls and snapping growls of aggression. And he feared he’d come too far, that finally he’d dared to test the bounds of the curses meant to keep him here when he wasn’t sure he was ready to do so.
His step faltered and that seemed to be as much as he could do before suddenly his whole body was freezing up, mere paces away from the forest edge where he could just make out the glossy white of Yoochun’s horse.
Yoochun came to a stop beside him as well, looking curious, but now that he wanted to, Changmin found he couldn’t turn to even look at him. His eyes were locked in place, straight ahead and unable to even blink. His breath slowed and went shallow as his lungs became paralyzed mid-breath, and his legs became heavy and numb as if turned to stone.
He couldn’t move, could only panic silently as the angry snapping of branches and mutters of trees grew louder, more threatening, filling and deafening his ears. A gentle voice penetrated the sound as Yoochun suddenly moved closer beside him.
“Changmin. What’s wrong?”
Changmin would have felt touched by the real concern sounding in his voice were it not for the panic overwhelming him as his mind raced, heart struggling to pound out his fear even as it too began to slowly come to a standstill inside his very chest. He couldn’t respond, couldn’t call for help and it didn’t matter that Yoochun was beside him or focusing on him, there was nothing he could do for him against the force holding him captive within his own body.
“Hey...look at me.” Yoochun coaxed gently leaning in to peer into his face. He could barely focus on the words as his whole body struggled and fought to breathe through leaden heavy lungs.
Yoochun was moving to face him, looking at him worriedly, anxious and not without a dark shadow of uncertainty. But there was no way for him to know the cause of Changmin’s behavior, that Jaejoong was controlling him and hurting him even when he wasn’t actually present or there.
He couldn’t get enough air as the anxiety was demanding, a low rushing sound slowly filling and muffling his ears. He couldn’t hear what Yoochun was saying, the face before him blurring as his chest burned, heart faltering as it labored to catch up with his racing thoughts.
The color of the world was fading to smudges of gray consuming sparks of black. Dull and empty as heavy as his body. He couldn’t hold on much longer, a breath before passing out, only too aware that his body may just collapse in on itself and suffocate him to death.
Just then, something touched his shoulder and Changmin’s body shuddered violently at the contact. Even through the paralysis he could feel it. So gentle, an act of support, concern, and then he was collapsing.
Yoochun wasn’t quick enough to stabilize or catch him as he sank to the ground, body once again his own, blood pounding so hard through his ears it blotted out all sound, limbs screaming and tingling with each pump of life through his aching veins.
He coughed and gasped, great heaving breaths rocking his frame, the flow of air invading his lungs all at once so sharp and painful, hardly feeling like something so precious and essential with the way it made him sputter pathetically.
Yoochun knelt before him, voice steady and deep, calming, telling him it was okay, but Changmin didn’t even know what those words were supposed to mean.
He clutched at his heart as it slowly steadied, chancing a look up at the other. Why did he have to come here to see this? Why did he seek him out again even after all either of them experienced around each other was pain? He suddenly didn’t want him there, feeling ashamed and so small at the way he was so completely powerless even over his own body, so easily thrown and cast about on the whims of magic.
But there was no mockery of laughter in Yoochun’s eyes. No carefully concealed disgust. Nothing but a shining sheen over the dark orbs that he didn’t even want to try to believe in.
“What happened?” He was whispering, as if he’d set off something horrible again, and Changmin was able to shake his head slightly, not even needing to send a meaningful look to where the house lay some ways behind them. Yoochun seemed to choke on a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
Once again, those two words he’d heard so many times from the other man in their few short encounters, but words that he couldn’t understand where they came from, why the man said them so often. Words that did nothing, changed nothing.
He let the words hang in the air awkwardly without a response, not sure what he should do for them and wanting to let them fade so he could forget them. Carefully he scooted himself back a few feet, guessing he had reached the limit to his range of freedom, eyeing the forest that had fallen still and silent once again.
Yoochun, too, looked at the forest warily. “Something’s in there.”
He spoke as if to himself and Changmin wanted to say that no, there wasn’t. That yes, there was, but only for Changmin. Even though branches no longer screamed or writhed as if possessed, the oddly jerking swings as the wind caught at them seemed as if they were seizing it and ravishing it whole. He moved back a little more, trying to tear his gaze away, feeling Yoochun shifting uneasily beside him.
“Wait here a moment.” He said before getting to his feet. Walking to where his horse was waiting calmly despite all the unrest of the forest, his eyes roamed the expanse of green all the while as if he could spot something.
Changmin wanted to tell him he should be more concerned about turning his back on the dark house that lay behind them. But Yoochun most certainly would be aware of that considering the way they’d been caught by the Sorcerer and Jaejoong the last time. He had no way of asking him what had happened that day, and could only hope that the reason Yoochun was here now was not for any purpose of business with the Sorcerer. He surely wouldn’t return here again if he’d been hurt previously, and Changmin wondered if the bruises across Yoochun’s chest were also faded into nothing.
He could only think how impossible it was for the man to be here now. A stranger on such dangerous lands, and Changmin was just walking with him as if he trusted him. He doubted the man to be a magician himself with the way he’d spoken the other day, but he couldn’t understand what type of man would come to such a place merely to spend time with a cursed slave.
Why did you come back? Who are you?
The two questions were running rampant through his head but he told himself they were unimportant as long as the other continued to show no signs of hostility or violence. He didn’t know how he would deal with losing the sweet comfort and connection he’d found when sharing his dreams with Yoochun if the other should prove to be someone with ill intentions, even if he had nothing to lose but his hope.
Getting heavily to his feet, Changmin took a few more slow steps back towards a place that was by no means safer, but somehow now seemed so desperately familiar. Yoochun was already coming back towards him, his horse following docilely behind.
Changmin’s attention was instantly captivated by the large brown eyes and a silky nose. He was reaching for the animal before he even had the sense to ask permission. It was a subconscious reflex, a plea for comfort and warmth, the surety and unchangeability of something so beautiful and special to him. A deep unconditional understanding of the animals that had time and time again stolen and soothed his young aching heart.
The horse greeted him with a huff of sweet hay fragrant breath. He ran trembling fingers across its coarse coat, reveling in the feel of the strength of the muscles beneath, of the warm life in each rise and fall of breath. He leaned his forehead upon its neck and breathed deeply, feeling nearly instant calm and serenity seeping into him from the scent alone.
Standing still for him, the horse did nothing but toss its tail slightly, providing everything he needed and more. Giving him the sweetest caress of a memory, a faded tattered painful breath of what he’d lost and forgotten, of what was still waiting for him outside of this prison.
Yoochun spoke long minutes later, reminding him of his presence. His voice was once more so kind and nonthreatening, alive with rising bubbles of amusement and warmth.
“You’ve really got a way with horses.” A hint of awe in his voice and Changmin found he couldn’t look at him. Not yet. “Can you...speak to them?”
Changmin would have laughed at the question had it not been so innocently earnest. Anyone could speak to horses just by stopping to listen to what they had to say, through spending years together with them, raising them, growing and running free together. He had done so once. But not anymore. He’d been harnessed and broken in more thoroughly than any horse he’d ever trained or seen.
And no, what voice did he have to speak with? He felt oddly bitter at the thought, an uncomfortable warmth curling the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t been reminded of the way he was so disfigured and crippled except for when Yoochun was there speaking to him, always asking questions that hurt, and being just so frustratingly curious.
He stroked the horse’s muzzle affectionately, enjoying the feeling of coming back to himself bit by bit even as it scared him with the knowledge he could never really have it all back. Himself back. That he’d have to forget and let it go, lose himself once more as soon as this moment ended.
Almost for the first time since his whole life had changed, grief hit him then, thick and suffocating. And all he could think was that he wanted, needed to feel racing hooves beneath him, feel wind rushing about him, the churning power of being carried along in a breathless run. A run he chose, one he cherished, one into which he’d always throw himself with wild abandon, losing himself in the most glorious way. Maybe that way, by choosing to cast it all away as he had so many times before, maybe then he’d be ready to let go and return to the darkness of his reality.
He pulled his head away from the horse sharply, knowing he was being horribly rude but trying not to resent Yoochun his freedom as he turned to meet his eyes.
Yoochun didn’t look upset or offended, he was just watching him with his head tilted slightly to one side, expression unreadable. Changmin stared at him steadily, boldly requesting something that he shouldn’t dare to ask, something he knew fully well he could no longer have since he was nothing but a slave and prisoner. But something he so stubbornly selfishly wanted even if just only for one last time.
“You want to ride, don’t you?”
Changmin had the decency to blush slightly at his demanding assuming attitude, but nodded all the same. He bit his lip as hope surged within him, even while knowing this time would be his last.
Yoochun broke into a small laugh, his face bright and softening beautifully with the flash of his smile. “Just one question...I have no idea how you can communicate so well with just your eyes, but...have you always been unable to speak?”
Changmin turned from the once again openly curious eyes, patting the horse instead. He shook his head slowly and Yoochun breathed a soft, ‘Ah.’ in response. Before he could turn away to mount the horse, Yoochun was moving in closer, stepping up beside him under the shadow of the animal’s high neck.
“What...what happened?” A hesitant murmur like asking for a secret and trying to tread lightly on something no one should directly ask about.
Changmin stared at his own fingers tangling in the horses’ mane, able to feel the heat of a gaze heavy on his face, the lingering question pressing against him and stilling the air. He still didn’t even know who the man was, still didn’t even know why he was there, why he himself had been waiting for him or why he wanted to trust him. But for now he was no longer lost, no longer losing his mind isolated and tortured, watched day and night, and he knew he wasn’t dreaming. Right here and now this collected sense of himself was all thanks to Yoochun.
They took my voice.
He drew the words into the shoulder of the horse, not sure if Yoochun was even watching to catch the reply or not. But when a hand slowly rose to hover above his own, so close they almost touched, he turned his head to take in the dark uncertainty of shock marring the other’s face.
He was looking at their hands, but as a whisper was torn from his lips he turned to catch his eye and hold him with a deep penetrating look.
“Why?”
Changmin was frozen under that gaze, under the hidden force of the single word, and he momentarily forgot how to breathe. Yoochun watched him steadily, waiting for him, making him into something so important and he didn’t know why the feeling made him feel so scared.
He broke the moment first, moving jerkily to the horse’s side, foot in the stirrup and throwing his leg across the saddle in no more than a heartbeat. Hardly had he mounted and he kicked the horse into motion, Yoochun jumping back with a startled sound as the horse leapt into the golden grass, crushing it beneath heavy striding steps as Changmin immediately urged it into a run.
Trying to leave behind the unanswered question, escape the chance of admitting the truth of who and what he was, unable to reveal the reason he was here at all. Who was Yoochun to ask such things? He could be anyone. Or no one. But Changmin didn’t want him to know.
He’d already come to the conclusion long ago that it would be foolish to try and tell the truth to anyone in this country. Not when they already believed Junsu to be the true prince already long escorting their Crown Prince, not when Junsu was backed by the support and power of soldiers, not when his own countrymen wanted him dead, not when he was left for dead and his life was traded and bound to servitude of the Sorcerer. Yoochun wouldn’t believe him for an instant and he didn’t want to see the change in his eyes as a mere slave boasted a fanciful absurd story, claiming a position that was obviously not his.
He leaned down closer over the horses neck as it charged across the field, squeezing his eyes closed as the wind tore tears from them, tossing crystal droplets silently in his wake.
**
Yoochun could only watch, bewildered, as Changmin promptly galloped away from him, melting into the horse naturally and riding with so much practiced ease he didn’t doubt for a moment he was a seasoned rider. He sped away quickly and Yoochun brushed away the stray thought that the other had just taken his horse to run away.
But as he watched the way Changmin let the horse run and run and run before slowing and suddenly turning at an abrupt angle to then charge across the field in another direction, he realized that only moments before he had just seen firsthand the way Changmin seemed bound to this place, unable to cross some invisible line. Some line that had seemed dangerously painful, something that had held him back fiercely enough to almost kill him, and Yoochun didn’t think even letting Changmin ride like this would subdue the regret and sorrow he felt for causing him to go through that. He could only wonder if Changmin had never gotten caught in the spell before or not, as he had willingly walked with him until that moment it had struck.
Now galloping across the field he looked so free and unstoppable. Unattainable. Contrasting so horribly with the way he was actually enslaved in such a place. He now felt he understood why the Sorcerer gave Changmin the freedom to roam unattended outside as there was obviously dark magic at work to ensure he was unable to leave.
It was an disconcerting thought and Yoochun tried not to listen to the way the trees creaked and groaned against each other behind him. Tried not to see the way the lowly whistling bodiless wind bent and twisted the golden stalks violently as if trying to rip them from the ground or wring their necks.
He’d been able to find his way here and leave twice already, but he knew he couldn’t assume his safe departure from the place at all. In fact he assumed the opposite, expecting Jaejoong to materialize before them at any moment. A black spot amongst gold to turn the glorious sight of Changmin riding across yellow waves into the stumbling cold decay of his horse rotting as it fell to the ground.
Yoochun tried to clear the image, to shake the feeling creeping along his skin, unable to deny the way that Changmin’s face seemed twisted in agony as he nearly lay himself across the neck of his mount.
He couldn’t see clearly as the horse turned yet again to ride swiftly in the other direction, but he knew that as breathtaking and amazing as Changmin had looked when he reached for and touched his horse, that the way he stroked it spoke of something precious and important to him, there had been no light or happiness in his eyes even then. They hadn’t seemed dead like they did in his most recent nightmares, but had been alive with something else which he understood all too well himself. Something like a caged animal, something wild yet trapped, something that didn’t understand anything but fear and a silent scream of no.
That one moment staring into the tormented depths of Changin’s eyes, and Yoochun had been filled slowly with a heavy burden of emotions. Things he didn’t know what to do with, and he felt deeply the exact reason why Changmin had wanted to mount the horse and ride away. As if he could outrun the things that plagued him, as if by running hard enough and fast enough he could be free.
Yoochun smiled sadly as he watched the other. A lonely figure atop the glowing brilliance of the horse, the colors of him struggling to take in and emulate the power and life, to rise up and find again that similar strength within himself, but only able to cling to the unassuming unalterable beauty of nature.
Back and forth, down and across. Riding until sweat glistened off the white coat of his horse, darkened the hair at the nape of Changmin’s neck, shone off his flushed cheeks so that Yoochun could pretend the wet tracks shining there had just been sweat all along. And still he watched.
It could have been hours or just mere minutes, but when suddenly Changmin straightened in the saddle, hands releasing their hold on the reins to reach and spread his arms out to each side instead, Yoochun could do nothing but stare. Still rushing across the field at a fast pace, Changmin seemed to be flying as he embraced the sky, face upturned and eyes closed as the wind threaded through his hair, brushed greedy fingers across the planes of his face as he smiled up at the sun. Laughing and gorgeous, the absence of the actual sound unimportant as he could clearly hear it ring across the sunny air, pure, beautiful, and free.
And in that moment he looked so amazingly brilliant, strong and captivating that Yoochun couldn’t tear his eyes away, breath catching as a sudden unexpected hot burn stung behind his eyes. He couldn’t force it away and didn’t want to as he couldn’t bear to lose the feeling that hit him as Changmin turned into an angel before his very eyes.
It was much too short, a single moment that he wanted to suspend into a little bit of forever, but Changmin was already coming back towards him at last, and he sniffed, roughly passing the back of his knuckles across his eyes. They came away dry and he found he could breathe again.
Changmin dismounted in a tumble of long legs, one hand steadying himself against the muscled shoulder of the horse as he caught his breath. Yoochun continued to stare at the way he looked, windswept and glowing, his face flushed and eyes sparkling.
He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how he could ever forget this moment, didn’t know how a single horse ride could change a person so completely. He wanted to know what it was, what magic had done it, and when Changmin turned to look at him directly in the eyes, smile bright and eyes curving into mismatched crescents, Yoochun didn’t even need to read his lips to know, didn’t even need the soft brush of fingers across the back of his wrist to feel it.
Thank you.
And the words echoed in Yoochun’s heart. Reverberating and tightening his chest. He knew he should say something. Tell him anytime. Anytime he wanted to ride, that the horse was now his. That whatever he wanted he would gladly give. That there was nothing valuable enough to repay the gift Changmin had unknowingly given him.
But the words were stuck in his throat, tight and painful the way it felt when he’d try to hold tears back for too long. He didn’t know why this hurt, why he felt so inconsolably sad.
He managed to shake his head to the silent question brimming in Changmin’s eyes. When he finally gathered himself enough to speak, his voice sounded gruff and thick, catching on the last word and hardly carrying even the smallest fraction of the emotions threatening to spill from his eyes.
“You...looked so free.”
And the words sounded so ugly and crude, crushing the light and radiance that Changmin had brought back with him. Changmin’s smile faded and he stared at Yoochun for a single heart throbbing moment, a moment in which Yoochun felt himself spilling open uncontrollably, every last hope and desire, every last hurt and failure clearly displayed for Changmin’s liquid brown eyes to see. Then the smile was gone completely, his gaze dropping before his bangs fell to cover his eyes.
It was an abrupt shove back into reality and Yoochun swallowed the lump still blocking his throat. Yet another useless apology unable to break free from behind it.
Freedom. Always an illusion no matter how realistic it seemed, no matter how long the moment lasted. He didn’t want to stop pretending, if only here in this magical place with no one else but Changmin. Here where everything was already under a spell, he would lie. He would lie to himself and pretend, let himself be carried away however he wanted, however Changmin wanted.
If only just here, no one could tell him ‘no’ or try to bind his wings, to conform him to what they saw fit. To mold him and order his life to their liking as he merely followed unable to protect himself, unable to protest and take his own life in his hands.
Because Yoochun had been so wrong. He had thought of himself as irrevocably broken. He had thought he was bound to his fate, thought he could never escape from his title, thought his life’s sole purpose was to serve and follow the ways of his kingdom, his people, and now the Sorcerer, regardless if he wanted to or not. But here before him was a man who’s wings had not been bound, no, they had been clipped. Never to fly again. Never to be free again.
But even so, the look in his glowing eyes had showed he still hadn’t given up trying. He was truly beaten and broken, was truly lost with no power over his life, even over his own body. Yet even so he still held on.
Held onto what? Yoochun wished he could ask. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg. Give Changmin the world if he would just tell him that one thing.
Please teach me. Tell me your secret so I can fly again. I’ll fly away from here at last. And I’ll take you with me.
**********
next chapter ~