An Albatross Sings
Title: An Albatross Sings Part One
Pairing: None for now
Wordcount: 9k+
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
Summery: Those few who sacrifice for the good of the many, they are the strongest the world will ever know.
This is for aishitaeru
Suprise guest Beta: deepgashes
what started off as an idea for a pwp grew into this monster
One of his earliest memories was that of a dark horse and tall rider who smelled of brine. The rider had approached him and his parents at a gallop, slowing only when he was but right in front of them. The horse, so black it looked blue in the warm summer air, reared and neighed furiously, but the dark rider had him under control, aquamarine blue eyes peering out from under the wide brimmed hat he was wearing.
Jonghyun shrunk away from the intense stare, trying to mold himself into his mother’s leg. But she squeezed his tiny hand tightly and nudged him forward, urging him silently to show himself off. They’d dressed him in their finest clothing, and a light circlet of platinum, pearls and blue diamond rested on the top of his head. He bowed neatly and kept his eyes on the wet hove of the mammoth horse.
There was almost a susurrus in the ground and on the wind, as the man looked him over, like the world was holding is breath. Jonghyun knew that he was supposed to impress this man; something very important relied on that. But he didn’t understand how he was supposed to impress him without saying anything. So he looked up, meeting the stranger’s deep, vast eyes. “I-I’m Jonghyun,” he said quickly, ignoring the hiss that came from his mother, “I don’t know what your name is but I really like your eyes.” He remembered his father saying that one should always be kind to the person they are speaking with, compliments help. “Please, Sir, we’re a fishing kingdom, my father says, but there haven’t been any fish.” He trailed off when the man got off his horse.
“Please, he’s only a boy,” His mother gasped, her voice fearful, but Jonghyun didn’t know why, as the man crouched down to bring them eye level. A large hand brushed some hair from the young prince’s face, and the motion caused a gust of what smelled like warm sea air across the boys face, and he inhaled greedily.
“You are bold,” he said, in two voices twined to become one. It made Jonghyun’s ears itch. “To speak to me as such. You like my eyes, do you? Is there anything else of me you like?”
The boy flushed and looked him over, frowning slightly. “Um… the only thing that’s yours is the eyes,” he muttered softly, afraid he was failing some kind of test. “I’m sorry?”
A look of surprise crossed the stranger’s face, and then it want back to blank contemplation as he leaned closer and cupped Jonghyuns chin. “What skills do you have, Prince Jonghyun, who sees many things?”
“I sing,” he offered, trying not to fight the stranger’s hold on him. The only person who ever held him like this was his Nan, when he’d been sneaking food again, and she had been very furious. She would hold his chin tight and yell at him, rambling about a prince’s duties and other things he didn’t care about.
“So you do,” the stranger muttered, letting him go after a moment and standing, remounting his horse and eyeing the king and queen. “There is a cove under your castle that leads out to the bay. Bring him down to sing to me during the full moons,” he ordered, and Jonghyun felt tense, wondering if his mother or father would reject. He’d never seen them take orders. “And when he is old enough, he will be mine.” With a clap of thunder that felt like it came from the ground itself, the man left as quickly as he had arrived, disappearing into the mist at the end of the way.
As soon as he was gone from their sight, Jonghyun was scooped up into his mother’s arms and hugged so tightly he thought his ribs would break.
“Momma,” he whined, trying to wiggle out of her grip. “Momma its okay now, let me go.”
“You are the bravest, stupidest boy,” she whispered hotly into his neck. “You can’t just talk to a god like that, Jonghyun! He could have killed you, killed us all!” She was getting his collar wet, so he stopped struggling and chose to hold her just as tight.
“He said it was okay,” he offered, patting her back awkwardly. “He wants to hear me sing, so it’s okay momma. Don’t cry.” The queen put him down slowly, taking a moment to fuss over his suit jacket and the circlet on his head as she schooled her face, and Jonghyun took the hanky from his pocket and dapped at her wet eyes, trying very hard not to smudge the heavy makeup that caked onto her beauty. The action brought a smile to her face and she poked his nose gently, standing tall and taking his hand.
She nodded to her husband, who had kept a calm face despite having gone ashen when their only child had opened his mouth to actually speak to the Sea God. The king returned the nod and curtly turned around, marching back into their manor. It wasn’t that he was unfeeling towards his son. He wanted very dearly to hold him close after the stunt, but he had an appearance to keep. Women were emotional, so the queen was allowed to tend to the child, but he must keep stoic in the eyes of the public.
The full moon was a week away and in that time, Jonghyun was taught an old song. Dirge of a Sailor, his Nan called it; a song that spoke of a girl who fell in love with a sailor. The man had to go out to sea before they could wed, and she promised to wait for him by a lighthouse. His ship was wrecked and he never came home, but the girl still waited.
He didn’t like the ending very much. His Nan said it was poetic, but six year old Jonghyun didn’t understand and he didn’t like it. So in secret, he changed the ending, making it so that the young girl, now a woman, had made her annual trip to the light house, and upon turning to leave, was met with an elderly man, weary and who smelled of the ocean’s brine. It was her sailor, home at last. He liked that ending better, but when he sang it for his Nan and his parents, they were furious. He couldn’t change an age-old song!
“Why not?” he’d asked curiously but no one had answered.
The night of the full moon, he was taken down a corridor he’d never been to, down a dark set of stairs that made him clutch onto his father. Down they went, until suddenly one of the walls cut away, revealing what looked to young Jonghyun, as a private beach. The stone stairs disappeared into sand that lead down to the ocean. It flowed in through an opening in the rocks some distance out.
“Whoa,” he gasped, eyes wide, taking in the natural wonder. Beside him his father chuckled.
“Come now, Jonghyun. The moon should be rising any minute now. You must strip and step into the water. Remember how to sing the song,” he said pointedly. “No more adlibs of yours.” Swiftly, he helped his son undress, clasping his shoulders lightly before stepping back out of the firelight and trying to calm his nerves.
Jonghyun frowned at his father, but turned and walked down into the cold water, hissing as the waves lapped at his flesh. He waded out until he was waist deep and soon the bright light of the moon was dead center on the horizon. It was beautiful in the eyes of the young prince, and he swallowed, remembering what he was there for at last, clearing his throat, and singing. His high voice cut through the gentle crash of waves on the small shore, and around him he felt the water, like it was humming in tune to his song.
As he drew closer to the end of the song, he could feel eyes on him, whether they were from his father or from someone else, he couldn’t know. Being a stubborn six year old, he decided to go with his gut. Choosing the happier ending for the tale, he held out the last note longer than he was told, letting it fade slowly under the sound of the waves.
Panting slightly in exhaustion, he waited, wondering if he should turn back to his father, if the man would be proud or disappointed. Nothing was happening, he pouted a little and splashed in the water. Wasn’t something supposed to happen? Some sudden rush to say that, yes, he’d been chosen and the fish would come back? He was about to cry, thinking he’d ruined it with his different ending, when suddenly the water around him started to bubble, tickling his skin and the young boy giggled, distracted from the heavy task set before him, and choosing instead to play with the bubbles that danced around him like magic.
A heavy gust of wind rushed past him, sweeping into his hair, but he played it no mind, intent to play. To the king, however, the wind held a voice, old and ancient, powerful with intent and the smell of the warm sea air. It said “mine” in a voice that wasn’t a voice, and went back to swirl around the boy who played in its waters.
__
For three years the little kingdom of Silya prospered, growing to envelop farmlands to help sustain itself, and soon it was pushing the boundaries of other kingdoms. The neighboring kingdoms grew jealous, envious of Silya’s sudden prosperity. One of these kingdoms, the desert kingdom of Nysis, set about to engage in a series of espionage games, infiltrating the monarchy on almost every level.
Jonghyun, now nine, was a sight to behold, ever the pretty child with his mother’s smile and his father’s eyes. He spent much of his time in Poseidon’s temple, learning from the acolytes or playing in a field with the younger kids of the royal court. He still had his daily singing lessons but he was no longer taught songs, it seemed the god enjoyed Jonghyun’s free verse lyrics to the older tales, sometimes sending dolphins or even sharks to swim with the boy when he was particularly enchanted.
The happiness couldn’t last. The jealous kingdom had bided its time, learned that the prosperity of its rival rested on the shoulders of a boy who had won the heart of a god, and they planned to act. In the dead of night, the castle was raided, and Jonghyun was taken from his bed. As small as he was, he gave a good fight, but he was no match for full-grown men.
“Let me go!” he shouted, as they carried him from his bed. He kicked and squirmed, scratching and biting and doing everything he could to wriggle out of their hands and get away. In desperation, he started to sing, frantically, as loudly as he could. It was a new moon, so the water beneath the castle was at its lowest point. It was sand all the way down to the mouth of the cave, but he tried; tried to call on his one true guardian, and he felt the powers stir, the terror in his voice startling the immortal.
Unable to walk on land as a man, the god had to rely on his acolytes for a physical form, but even as he overshadowed the strongest of them, Jonghyun was being tossed into a wagon. Poseidon saddled his steed, the ebony stallion that only listened to him, and galloped as fast as the mist could take him to the castle. But Jonghyun was long gone, voice silenced by a belt between his teeth. His royal skin, unused to such rough treatment cracked and bled around the corner of his lips as tears slowly leaked from his eyes. He wanted Poseidon. He wanted Nan. More than anything, he wanted Momma and Poppa to come and save him.
Instead, he was slapped for the tears, a dark, vilely amused chuckle filling the small wagon. “Where’s your god now, slut?”
Jonghyun didn’t know.
-12 years later-
There was a sandstorm coming in; the thick wall could be seen for miles, climbing high and imposing. The townspeople scurried about, tying things down or moving them inside, their slaves hard at work on similar tasks. Slaves in this fiefdom where cheap labor and out in the desert a cheap, replaceable workforce was standard since slaves were lost under the rolling waves of sand.
“Move that barrel!” the foreman cried as two slaves heaved against a heavy crate, their skin tanned and scarred thanks to the unrelenting sun and the even more unrelenting whip of the task Master. The hiss of the well-worn leather unfurling made the two men struggle harder, putting all of their weight behind moving the heavy object across the slate rock in which it rested. The leather weapon cracked above their heads; a warning shot, as the Master never missed, and they pushed, both groaning with the strain, finally inching the dense object over the flat stone and into an enclosure.
The man nodded briskly and motioned for them to seek shelter in the main house, their work done, and turned to see to the others slaves. The smaller of the two slaves, oddly thinner despite being more muscular, grasped the other’s hand and dragged him toward the place to which their Master had motioned.
“Come on Jinki,” he groaned, tugging the weary boy with him. “We have to get underground. There will be food in the shelter I promise.” Slaves weren’t allowed in the main enclosure with the family and free staff. They all had little alcoves under their bunkrooms.
“I don’t wanna do this,” the older man protested weakly, as he let himself be dragged away, falling silent at the sharp look the other sent him. “Jason, let’s not do this.”
Jason growled sharply and tightened his grip on Jinki’s wrist, tugging him into their bunkroom and down into the shelter entrance where three other slaves waited, huddled against the wall. The muscular boy slammed the thatch cover that served as a roof and door to the shelter, securing it before he slumped down beside the older man, sighing heavily.
“How long before it hits?” a thin, delicate looking boy asked. He was a favorite of the Master’s heavy-handed son, and the other boys knew his appearance was deceptive. His tone was antsy and he fiddled with the skirt he always wore. Beside him, an equally pretty slave grasped his hands tightly, as if to calm him.
“Soon, Taemin,” he whispered. He wore pants like the regular slaves, though Jinki said that he used to be like Taemin, until he bit the son. Jason always suspected whatever it was hadn’t gone over well with the Master, since the slave was still working in the house and seemed none the worse for wear. He looked over at the three boys on the other side of the enclosure. “Right?”
“I don’t know, Kibum. Jinki doesn’t want to do this,” Jason said, glaring at the oldest boy, who blushed and hung his head. “And if Jinki doesn’t go, we can’t go.”
Taemin made a soft whining noise, tinted with panic as he clutched Key’s hand harder, and Jason felt a little bad bringing it up when he was around. Sure, the kid was strong, but there was only so much shit one can be put through. Jinki regretted it too; his face had drained off the color of his blush, and instead he stoically stared at his feet.
Jason moved to crouch before him, resting his hands on the older man’s shoulders and tried to catch his eye. “We can’t leave you here,” he said, cupping the man’s face to get him to meet his gaze. “I wont. What do you think they’d do to you if the four of us left and you stayed behind? Would it be better than the punishment if we got caught?”
“T-they’ve been good to me,” Jinki whispered, voice horse. He hated crying in front of others but his eyes gleamed wetly in the low light. “I…I know it’s selfish because of how they’ve treated Taemin, but I…they’re not bad people.”
“Jinki hyung.” The deep voice from the tall, well-built boy in the corner almost rumbled through the small enclosure. The kind youth in his face didn’t fit such a voice, but it had a smooth sound to it, Taemin said it was like Chocolate, a delicacy he sometimes was given by the Master’s son. “The Master whipped your feet so bad you couldn’t walk for a week because you tripped and fell at his feet, scuffing his boots. How is that ‘being good’ to you?”
The older man rubbed his hands though his hair furiously. “Minho, its not…ah!” he groaned and then sighed heavily. “Its different, for you two. You and Jason weren’t born into slavery. I’ve never been free…” His voice dropped to a whisper and Jason sighed, reaching to give the man’s shoulder a tight squeeze.
“We’ll be free soon enough,” he said. “I think you’ll like it,” he added as he moved over to Minho, who was shaking his head at the older boy. The muscular slave just shrugged and dug out five packs, starting to load three of them full of water skins. He lifted one over his shoulder with a groan, nearly tipping backwards before righting himself and crouching down again, stuffing the other two packs to the brim with dried and salted meats. “Do you think we can do this?” he whispered lowly.
The taller boy rolled his eyes as he tugged on Jason’s pack. “Take this off for now. We need to change first.” He avoided the question for a while, helping the older boy gather the clothes into 5 neat piles. He brought them over to the other boys, quietly urging them to change as quickly as they could. They had a very small window between the bell that signaled the Master had been locked away and when the storm actually hit.
Taemin was more than eager to slip out of the skirt he was wearing and into the many layers of protective clothing. Jinki was hesitant, ashamed that he didn’t want to leave exactly, and stepped further into the shadows of the little dugout, trying to hide the scars on his body as he, too changed.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Jason scowled as he suited up and helped Minho change.
“We should wait,” the taller boy whispered, aware of Jinki’s eyes on him. Six years ago they were both sold into the household. Jinki had taken an instant liking to Jason, but would always watch Minho when he and the more muscular boy were alone, like he was afraid. Minho tried his best to discourage the older man’s fears and insecurities when it came to Jason. It was easier that way. “I’ve been praying every night. The God has a plan, if we just-”
“No,” Jason shot back instantly. “He abandoned me. I’m not waiting for him,” he snapped just as a single, clear bell rang out through the compound. “Let’s go,” he said, handing one of the water-laden bags to Minho as he shouldered another, walking over to Jinki to hand him the third. “Let’s go,” he said more gently, holding the heavy bag for him to put on.
The older man stumbled into Jason with the weight, but nodded nonetheless, waiting his turn as Minho heaved himself out of the cubby and into their room, reaching down to pull Jinki through.
Jason handed the bags of meat to Key and Taemin as they, too, were hoisted up. He was the last to go, but the first to lead them through the compound. The door was barred from the inside, but there were no guards posted, so it was simple to remove the metal rod that held them in place and let the gate open. It was too much work to close, so Jason ordered them to leave it, as they carefully made their way out into the streets and headed for the open desert.
There was a sudden roar on the winds. It thundered around the group like a hungry beast as the swirling sand storm came ever closer. Quickly, they covered their faces and covered their eyes with the metal workers’ goggles Minho had taken from his job.
Except the sandstorm never passed them like it should have. Instead, it stood before the group, a boiling reddish brown mass of twisting winds and sands that promised to blast any unprotected flesh from a traveler’s bones.
“Little songbird,” the wind howled as something that could be discerned as a face formed in the frothing mass of sand and air. “Where are you going? Did you think I would let you leave my lands?” It reached out with a tendril to wrap around Jason, ripping and tearing at his cloths, trying to find away in. ”I don’t think so, little songbird. I have yet to hear you sing.”
“Stop!” Minho hollered over the booming winds, his voice deep enough to be heard. “Set, he isn’t for you!”
“An acolyte,” the sand hissed, moving to wrap around the taller boy, “sent to protect the songbird who has stolen that old sea gods heart, hmm? I have not seen you in my sands. Where were you hiding?” It twirled and twirled, moving on to the other three, picking and pulling and trying to find flesh like a hungry carnivore digging for meat on a carcass. They cried out, Jinki dropping to his knees under the attack and the sand twisted and writhed around him, pleased with his submission.
“Not hiding,” Minho coughed, steeling himself as he tugged at the sleeve of his cover, ripping it down to show the trident shaped mark on his forearm. The sand screamed in victory and went to attack, even as Minho stripped Jason of his gloves and pressed his hand to the mark. “You have to,” he implored, as the sands scraped at their flesh, trying to peel it away, “You have to.”
The muscular man scowled behind his mask and gripped Minho’s arm tightly. “Poseidon,” he bellowed, singer’s voice carrying over the winds, “I need your help!”
No sooner had he finished speaking than a single drop of his blood spilling from a gash the sand had ripped into the back of his hand dropped to the dust below. It soaked into the parched ground, and there was a sudden roar from below, so loud and terrifying it gave the winds pause, twitching like a confused dog as the face in the dust disappeared.
There was a crack that sounded like lightning, or more like the sound of something being ripped from its seams as the earth shook, and a fissure broke out across the desert heading towards them. Taemin cried out and scrambled away, trying to run back towards the manor, an instinctual need for safety. Key quickly grabbed him and held him tight. Going back was a death sentence, just as much as being drowned in sand or swallowed by the earth was.
But it stopped yards from their location, and out ran five horses, the likes of which none of the boys had ever seen. Their coats were various shades of blue, and their bronze hooves and golden mains dripped as if they had just emerged from water. The heavy smell of brine filled the air as Jason and Minho ripped off their face covers.
Minho rushed to Kibum and Taemin, assisting the elder in helping the panicked boy onto a saddleless horse. Taemin had a white knuckled grip on the poor animal’s mane by the time Minho, Key and he had settled as well.
“Jinki, lets go,” Jason urged, watching anxiously as the sands regrouped and headed for them. “We don’t have time to waste.” He gripped the older boy’s wrist and tugged him up. Jinki resisted the help, standing on his own as he yanked his mask off, wearily staring at the muscular boy, who was urging one of the remaining horses towards the older boy.
“Who are you?” Jinki demanded, as he climbed atop the beast. He didn’t want to, didn’t trust the stranger his friend had turned into, but there had been no turning back as soon as they’d stepped outside the gates, so it was all he could do.
“I’m Kim Jonghyun,” the younger boy confessed as he climbed atop the navy black horse, “crown prince of Silya, and we really need to leave.” His horse, as if waiting for that verbal command, shot off like a rocket across the desert, the others following instantly, accompanied by squawk and screech of their unprepared riders.
The winds howled out angrily, sweeping over the barren plans, giving chase as Jonghyun lead them straight across the land. He was drawing on the knowledge of Poseidon. The storm Set was riding would die out soon, and he hoped the horses would last as long as was needed. They had hundreds of miles to cross before they hit the imperial highway, if Minho’s memory was correct, and it was the only safe place from the wrath of an angry sand god in the desert.
The winds licked at their heels, the sand underneath them shifting and twirling, trying to trip the horses up and make them fall; but they didn’t, jumping and dancing around the pits of sand, they flew across the desert at speeds of which Jonghyun couldn’t keep track. He kept tossing glances back to make sure his friends were still there.
It was welling into the darkness, their travels illuminated by the full moon, when they hit grass, and then the gravel of the imperial highway. It represented a trading pact between the kingdoms, and was equally kept by all. It wasn’t long after that, having slowed to a trot when the vicious winds stirred and snapped at the edge of the sands but never entered the graveled road of the highway, when Key cried out in alarm. Taemin had fallen off the horse, slumping onto the ground and just lay there. Naturally, Key was the first one off his horse and to the younger boy, trying to get him to sit up, to move.
“Come on,” he hissed, pulling the slender boy to him. “We cant stop here, we have to keep moving,” he insisted, but the younger boy whined and shook his head harder. “Taemin it’s not safe!”
“It hurts,” the boy whispered, pulling his legs up, and whining. His nights with the Master’s son coupled with his inexperience with horses had made the sudden, harrowing journey a hard one on the youngest slave. Pain hotter than a whip dragged up his spine and he just couldn’t anymore. “P-please can we just rest now?”
“We have to keep moving,” Jonghyun insisted, even as Jinki dismounted and handed a water skin to Taemin. He didn’t say anything as he gently guided the horses to the side of the trail. They were just barely onto the stone road and some grass, despite it all, had grown over the area. The horses were eager to munch on the flora he led them too.
After he helped Kibum move Taemin, who was clinging to the other bed slave like his life depended on it, he went over to Minho and Jonghyun, not meeting their eyes.
“W-we’re all going to collapse if we don’t rest,” he muttered, staring at the metallic hooves of the horses. “None of us has eaten. I-it’s a good a place as any.” Jinki played with his fingers, having stripped off the gloves to keep a better grip on the mane of his horse.
Minho sighed dispassionately, not that he didn’t care for the other boys, but the closer they were to the sea, the safer they would be. He could also see Jonghyun wearing down under the nerves of the older slave and he was desperate to end whatever their connection was before the god ended it himself.
“They’ll be fine here, Jjong,” he insisted. “Lets leave them and continue ourselves. They have horses and water, food. They’ll be fine.”
Jonghyun sighed and glared at the taller boy as he slid off his horse. “No they won’t. Where would they go?” he snapped, letting the dark animal join the rest of its herd. “And besides, hyung is right. We need to stop and rest.” He sighed when Jinki sidestepped him, and instead moved to go see how Taemin was.
Minho sighed angrily and followed, ignoring Jinki as he tried to help and sat away from the rest of the group. He clasped his hands together tightly and immersed himself in his prayers, thanking the sea god for his help and promising to see Jonghyun back to him safely.
“How are we safe?” Key asked Jonghyun as he broke off bits of dried meat to feed to Taemin, as he massaged his thighs gently. “If that really was Set, he’s a god. Just because we aren’t on sand anymore doesn’t mean he loses his power.”
He glanced at the ever-shifting sands just beyond the grassy area in which they were staying. “And what was that, with Minho? And the earthquake and these horses. I mean…what the fuck, Jason?” he snapped, irritable, and Jonghyun sighed.
“First of all, my name is Jonghyun, not Jason,” he amended, ignoring the way the younger boy’s eyebrow arched. “I was kidnaped from my home when I was nine and sold here. They changed my name because of people knew who I really was, I’d be in danger.”
“So who are you really then?” the catty slave snapped, suddenly impatient with the older boy.
“My name is Kim Jonghyun, I’m a prince, from the coastal Kingdom of Silya,” he said again, ignoring the guffaw that fell from the younger boy and the look of utter defeat that passed over Jinki’s face. “I’m serious. That’s where we’re headed. You’ll see.”
Kibum rolled his eyes, cooing gently when he realized Taemin had fallen asleep, and brushed some hair out of his face. “So what about everything else, Milord?” he snapped quietly. He had a soft spot for the young bed slaves. Being able to empathize with him and offer a shoulder when it all became too much, and no matter how important the conversation he was having was, he wouldn’t risk anything waking the boy up.
“Gods are real,” Minho interjected, coming back to the group, sitting beside Jonghyun when the older boy fell silent. “Its not often that they interject themselves with mortal affairs directly, but they’re always about. Considering that Set is the only desert god, I can understand why no one would want to draw his attention,” he muttered, glairing angrily at the desert.
“We’re safe because this road is watched over by Hermes, god of travelers. It was built in his honor, and he watches it closely. The horses…” he paused to nod at them taking a deep sip from a water skin and then forcing it into Jonghyun’s hands, trying to get him to drink as well, “and the earthquake, they came from Poseidon, The sea god, patron god of Silya. I am an acolyte in his service,” he added, rubbing a hand over the trident mark on his biceps, “and Prince Jonghyun is his sworn consort.”
Jonghyun went beat red as Key started laughing. But Jinki just choked on his jerky, taking a few moments to force it down before he cleared his throat and stared at Jjong like he’d been stabbed. “S-seriously? You… and a god… and” he blushed, and looked down at his hands, the slumping of his shoulders having nothing to do with the weariness of the day.
“I was six when we made the deal,” he muttered as he dropped his gaze, playing with his fingers and not wanting to see the look of heartbreak on Jinki’s face. “I would sing to him until I was of age, and he would bring the fish back so my kingdom wouldn’t starve. When I was 18 I was supposed to go to him, but I was kidnapped, from my own bedroom,” he growled, bitter, age-old anger, “and he never saved me.”
“He tried,” Minho implored. “He took my brother and went after you. He just… couldn’t hear you” the taller boy sighed and stripped off his overcoat, rolling it up and using it as a pillow. “If Set had been shielding you, it would make sense why he could never find you.” He ripped off a piece of his undershirt and soaked it in water from one of the skins, moving to wash the gash on Jonghyun’s hand. After it was clean he ripped another strip to bandage it, the prince letting him, posture resigned as he kept his eyes on his feet. “He came when you called him,” Minho pressed on. “If anything, that should show he still cares for you.”
“He cares for me like a child cares for a toy that was taken,” Jonghyun snapped, pulling his hand away. “Gods don’t feel love for mortals. Zeus more than proved that when he ran around with,” he paused for affect to glair at Minho, “how many lovers did he have, temple boy?” he snapped, turning from the rest of the group pointedly; away from Key's judgment, Minho’s faith and Jinki's heartbreak, not wanting to face it.
It got cold at night in the desert, something they all were well aware of. The added layers to protect against the sun’s rays were useful for keeping in the heat at night, as well. Key, for all that he was starting to hate both Minho and Jonghyun, had given them both his coats in lieu of inviting them into the nest he'd made out of Jinki and Taemin’s, forcing the older boy into cuddling with them to keep warm.
Minho seemed content with this, even as he placed himself between the three of them and Jonghyun, urging the young prince to sleep, assuring him that he would take first watch.
Jonghyun relented, exhaustion from the ride and the adrenaline from outrunning the sand god coupled with the less than accepting reaction from the people he'd considered his friends pulling him into a restless sleep.
"You’re too harsh on him, Kibum," Jinki whispered later in the night, when it was time for the younger boy to take watch. "It’s not like he's different from the boy we roomed with last week."
The younger slave scoffed and huddled closer to Taemin for warmth, the boy still in a deep, undisturbed slumber. After watching him pass out from exertion, no one had the heart to wake him.
"The three of us were born into servitude. Everything we've done was at the behest of someone who had total control of our lives. Jas... Jonghyun is a prince who was probably spoiled rotten. He lied to us. What else is he lying about? Was he really a prisoner? Minho apparently got himself sold to our Master, how do we know Jonghyun wasn’t just being held there until he could go back and reclaim his kingdom? Maybe he killed someone and that’s why he was sold." The younger boy pressed himself closer to the sleeping slave. "Sure he used to give us some of his food, but I don’t know him anymore."
"You’re being paranoid," Jinki hissed angrily. There wasn’t anything he'd heard in the last few hours that would change his opinion of the muscular young slave. "He's the same boy who takes whippings for me or Taemin when he can. He's the same boy who wouldn’t leave any of us behind. How can finding out he was a prince once change your opinion so fast?"
"How can finding out he belongs to a god not change yours?" Key snapped, shoving the man gently down to the ground. “I know you love him, hyung, but don’t let your emotions fool you. There’s no place for us in his life as a prince.”
Jinki sighed and shook his head, recognizing a lost cause when he saw one, and taking his place next to a sleeping Taemin. “He’s not like that,” he said, pretending he was talking to the youngest boy. “You’ll see”
-~-~-~-~-~
It was a clear, hot and uneventful morning as Jonghyun roused them all from their sleep. Ideally, he’d wanted to be moving during the night, to keep the heat of the sun from wearing them down, but they had no shelter, so they had to keep moving if they didn’t want to be cooked. The horses had been settled at some point. Jonghyun hadn’t heard anything, but he left some meat as an offering to whatever god or sprite had been so helpful.
Taemin felt awful. The younger boy was used to being thought of as the weakest slave because of his duties in the house, but he’d been struggling to make the other slaves think of him as stronger, more useful, and less of a pampered bed slave. So when he awoke and discovered he’d passed out in exhaustion and forced the others to camp, he’d been devastated, offering to do anything the others needed; helping them with their cloaks and desert gear, filling the saddle bags, watering the horses that apparently didn’t need to be watered.
He still sulked as they rode out, Kibum hanging in back with him, informing the younger boy of who Jonghyun really was and what exactly the bullshit in the desert the other day had been about. The older boy didn’t have time to figure out what emotion the wide eyed look Taemin was sending him contained, too busy trying to figure out which way he needed to be heading on the road. There weren’t any road signs around, and even if he’d learned his letters in the temple before he left, he wasn’t confident in his ability to read anything. Minho, on the other hand, confidently nudged his horse forward in one direction, offering a not unkind, “It’s this way,” to the struggling prince and leading them down the road south of the way they’d just come.
Jonghyun sighed heavily, looking down at his hands, and clenched the reigns of the horse tightly. He was a man now, and he couldn’t even make a decision on which direction he should go. How was he supposed to lead a kingdom? He shook his head and sighed again, carefully following Minho, and looking back briefly to make sure Key and Taemin were still with them. The snarky boy may have been weary of him. Kibum hated liars and Jonghyun had lied about something very big. Jjong cared for him, had considered him his best friend. They’d both been at the Master’s manor the longest. He’d never really ever gotten a chance to show it outright, but he’d considered them close, and he wanted them to come with him to his kingdom, to freedom.
“They’ll be okay,” Jinki’s soft voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up into the older boy’s face before looking down and shrugging. “Key’s just upset you lied, so he’s being paranoid. Taemin’ll follow his lead for a bit until he figures it out for himself.” He offered the younger boy a strip of meat, staring expectantly at the more muscular boy until he ate it, then handing him another. “So… what’s your god like? From what you can remember?”
Jonghyun looked up at him, startled, and licked his lower lip, chewing on it as he looked away, trying to remember. “I… I used to make up songs to sing him, and he’d make the water bubble for me to play in, or send dolphins and sharks to take me swimming out deeper into the ocean.” He sighed, a small smile coming onto his face as he remembered the coolness of the water and the soft texture of the dorsal fins under his fingers as he sped along under the waves.
“Gods don’t have a… like a form, like you or me, so he has to borrow people, his acolytes, to do things on land.” His voice got faint and dreamy as he stroked the golden mane of the stallion he was riding. “You could always tell it was him, though. His eyes were bright aquamarine, like the ocean on a perfect day, and he always smelled like brine.” He took a deep breath, out of habit. The horses smelled less like the open ocean than they had the night before, but the deep homesickness it had instilled in the young prince had not ebbed with its fading.
“Hey, are you okay?” Jinki asked, reaching over to rest a hand on Jonghyun’s shoulder and squeezing. “You looked a little lost.” He smiled brightly and let him go, dropping his hands back to his reigns. “It sounds like you really loved him. Your god, I mean.”
“I was nine,” Jonghyun snapped, wincing at the hurt look that passed over the older man’s face, and stumbled to rephrase. “I was a child, I loved him like any child would love an uncle who showered presents on him.” He paused at Jinki’s lost look, and tried again. “Like a kind Master who gives you rewards when you do something he likes,” he offered, and the older slave nodded, understanding. It was Jonghyun’s turn to smile, albeit weakly.
“You guys are going to come and live with me, right?” he asked, hopefully, a child in the skin of a man. “I insist. If I remember correctly the manor was more than large enough, and I’d worry about you guys on your own.” He sighed again, biting his lip. They were all runaways, now. He and Minho had the safety of the Kingdom of Silya, should anything happen, but what about Jinki and Key and Taemin?
“You have to stay with me” he decided, it was the only way he could, with any percentage of certainty, guarantee they wouldn’t be snatched up again. It should still the safest place in the kingdom despite what happened.
They traveled more slowly that day, yet they seemed to be eating up just as much ground as if they had cantered the horses anyway, only getting off to make waste or stretch their legs. They rode along as the desert stretched for miles in each direction, only small tufts of grass scattered on each side of the stone path.
It was uneventful and hot. They followed the road as best they could, weary of the sand that seemed to have stopped following their movements. It was possible Set was needed elsewhere, or he just got bored. They had water enough for three days before they would need more and, while logically he knew that the horses they were riding were immortal, the same ones who sometimes pulled Poseidon’s chariot, it still felt weird not giving them water as they munched down on the grass whenever they were resting.
“Where the hell are we, oh great and mighty lord?” Key snapped, as they bedded down for another night, grabbing Jonghyun by the collar and shaking him. “You were the one with the plan, right? Does your plan include us finding a way out of this goddamn desert?” The younger boy dropped Jjong and shoved him away, “We’re all going to die because the little prince couldn’t-”
“Kibum that is enough,” Jinki snapped suddenly, his voice so loud it echoed in the vast emptiness around them. “You act like you didn’t want to run away just as much as the rest of us did. Even if he weren’t a prince, we’d still be lost, so either shut your fucking mouth or help us figure out a way out, okay?”
That had caught everyone’s attention, the snarky boy’s mouth shutting with an audible click of his teeth, cowed under the sudden anger of the usually passive man. He huffed in annoyance and started unsettling the horses, brushing them down as the other boys set up a small camp and argued over watches. He didn’t come back to the group until everyone was settled and gnawing on their nightly rations of dried beef.
“Key is right,” he said at length, while everyone was still sitting in the tense atmosphere from his earlier outburst, scared to set the older man off again, but the words brought a smug smile to the snarky slave’s face. “We need more of a plan than ‘follow the road’ because while I’m sure it will lead us out of the desert eventually, we only have maybe two days’ worth of food and water left.” He shrugged and looked down at the meat in his hand. “More than likely we’ll run out of water sooner, with the salted food we’re eating.” He bit a chunk off and chewed thoughtfully, but when no one offered any ideas he sighed and swallowed his food.
“When I was a kid I heard that there was a tribe of nomads that wandered the desert and would bring slaves across it for a price. They knew where the watering holes were, and were said to travel in the blind spot of the god.” He hummed and shrugged, kicking a little sand at Jonghyun. “Now that I know gods actually exist, why shouldn’t they exist, too?”
Key threw his hands up in exasperation, “So now we’re believing in that old slaves tail?” he snapped, scowling darkly, “Sure, why not. We’re lost and going to die anyway, oh, maybe little fairy’s that glow at midnight will come and lead us out of the desert”
“I’m sorry” Jinki said, voice taking on the rough dark edge it had earlier, “Did we or did we not, just ride away from a sandstorm that spoke to us, on horses that came out of the ground?” he looked over at said animals, who still grazed happily on the scant flora by the road, “Given the shit that we’ve seen the other night, how exactly are nomadic caravans less likely?”
The catty boy huffed and crossed his arms continuing to scowl as he glared at the oldest slave, “Then, how exactly are you planning on finding these nomads, huh?” he looked around as if to demonstrate the vast nothingness on all sides, “Because I don’t see them anyway” he cupped his hands over his mouth “hey, Nomads!” he shouted, “Come and save us!” his voice died out over the sands and he raised an eyebrow, looking back at Jinki, who was staring at him blankly, “I’m sure they’ll find us”
Everyone around the camp shifted awkwardly. Jonghyun and Minho darted their eyes around antsy and wondering what, if not who, had heard the annoyed boys call while Jinki sighed and shook his head, “What is your problem, Kibum?”
“I don’t want to die!” the boy snapped angrily, rolling up into a ball and facing away from the rest of them, “Taemin couldn’t stay with Master any longer so I agreed to leave, but we’re all going to die out here anyway, aren’t we?”
The youngest boy flinched, curling into himself, and Jonghyun wrapped an arm around him, holding him tight as he rolled his eyes at the snarky slave, “I’m sorry” Taemin whispered, as Jonghyun shook his head.
“No one’s going to die” he said sharply, rubbing the pretty slaves arm reassuringly, kissing the top of his head, “No one’s dying” he said softer this time. Across from them, key sighed heavily, regretting his words, but they were to true to take back, “I have first watch tonight, okay? Why don’t you get some sleep?” The younger boy shrugged, nonplussed, and sighed, pulling away to curl up by himself.
Minho, who had been silently praying through the entire exchange rolled his eyes and tossed the rest of his food as far as he could into the desert, an offering, and grabbed key by the back of his coat, dragging the struggling boy across the sand to Taemin, “I don’t want to hear it Kibum, it gets really cold at night and we’d be warmer if we all stayed together” He commanded, shoving the boy down next to the youngest. Any complaint Key was about to unleash on the tallest slave died in his throat as Taemin curled up on him, and instead the catty slave turned to whisper with him, stroking his back gently. Jinki and Minho built a nest out of their coats and settled in beside them; preparing to sleep as Jonghyun hunkered down, settling in for a long night.
They had given Taemin the watch closet to morning; he was to wake them up as soon as the sun was on the horizon. He idly traced patterns into the sand he sat on, looking around at the great big nothing they’d gotten themselves into. He was grateful to Jonghyun and Minho and Key and Jinki, to all leave and take him with them. He felt like such a tag along, not having been able to do anything for the older slaves, lucky just because he happened to be bunked in the same room as them. He pouted and glanced at the sleeping boys, Minho and Key had their backs to each other, while Jinki had somehow managed to wiggle his way up against Jonghyuns’ chest, whether their arms were entangled or not, Taemin couldn’t see under the layer of coats. The younger boy felt proud of his hyung, for all that it was a fleeting moment, he’d gotten close to his crush. Jinki was so very strong, Taemin thought, knowing every step they took would lead to Jonghyun never being his, and yet he took them anyway.
He pouted, sighing again and looking out over the slowly brightening waist land. He wanted to be strong like that, or strong like Key who was so scared, but ran away so Taemin would be free, strong like Minho who apparently willingly went into slavery for 6 years to help break Jonghyun out. He stared at the sleeping prince for a moment, wondering if he could be strong like him, at least, giving himself to someone in exchange for his entire kingdom. He wondered if he could explain it to key like that. Jonghyun’s been a slave almost his entire life, a spoiled one, he’d grant Key that, but a slave none the less, his body sold to a god for the price of a kingdom. He sighed heavily and scanned the empty desert again, waiting for the sun to rise, sick of being alone.
It was then that his eyes landed on the dove, so pure white it almost hurt to look at. It was sitting, staring at him from just beyond the road, and he knew, knew he should have woken one of the older boys up, told them about the dove, but instead, he got up, pulling the cover over his head, and walked over to it. The creature, upon his approaches, fluttered away, landing a few feet back, still watching him expectantly. He didn’t know what drove him forward, but the young boy found himself following the curious animal, each time he would get close, it would take flight, drawing him further and further away from the road and back into the desert.
As the sun rose up on the desert, filling the air with a thick haze as it rose into the sky, it made following the small bird harder, and he sometimes lost it in the white heat of the terrain. He was truly lost now, everything looked the same in every direction he turned, and he whimpered quietly, having no other choice than to follow the strange dove as it winked in and out of his eye sight. He whined again, stumbling over the long coat as he tried to find the bird, his only sense of direction. He crashed down into the sands, groaning slightly under his own weight and stayed there for a moment, just a rest, he thought, before slowly forcing himself onto his hands and knees. The dove was back, not a foot from his face, watching him curiously.
With a groan, he forced himself back onto his feet, biting his lip as he pressed forward under the oppressive, melting heat, following the bird that was leading him deeper and deeper into the sands. He stumbled for a second time, a sob leaving his lips as he curled into a ball, lonely and desperate and hating himself. He never should have left, never should had followed the dove. He missed Key and Jinki and Jonghyun and Minho. He felt so useless with them, never able to help, always being given their food, having them take the blame for his mistakes. As much as he loved them he hated it but he missed them and he just wanted to see them again.
There was a soft pressure on his head, something that sounded like feathers landing on him, and he unfurled, slowly, looking up to see the dove peering at him. He moved forwards it and it hopped backwards, still trying to get him to fallow. Taemin tried to push himself up onto his feet, to walk again, but he just stumbled and fell. He shook his head at the dove, but it insisted, so Taemin crawled, clawing his way through the sands to try and follow, the pretty white dove he’d gambled his life on, why he needed to follow it, he had no idea, but he dragged himself forward like it wanted, pulling himself through the heat, through the thirst and the headache and the pain in his limps. He whined, reaching for the bird as it was almost at his fingertips, hadn’t moved, but when he touched it, it disappeared, and he was truly alone. He collapsed into the sands with a soul wrecking sob, weakly pounding his fit into the earth, how could he be so stupid?
He crawled forward a little more, hoping his body would make it to somewhere cooler, someplace with water, but he felt dizzy, everything hurt and he collapsed one final time, just unable to move anymore, even as he weakly clawed at the sands, sobbing dry tears and trying to keep going. Key wouldn’t want him to die here. He didn’t want to die here, not alone like this. But his vision was blurring, and going dark and he slumped, down onto the ground one final time.
hit counter
Pairing: None for now
Wordcount: 9k+
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
Summery: Those few who sacrifice for the good of the many, they are the strongest the world will ever know.
This is for aishitaeru
Suprise guest Beta: deepgashes
what started off as an idea for a pwp grew into this monster
One of his earliest memories was that of a dark horse and tall rider who smelled of brine. The rider had approached him and his parents at a gallop, slowing only when he was but right in front of them. The horse, so black it looked blue in the warm summer air, reared and neighed furiously, but the dark rider had him under control, aquamarine blue eyes peering out from under the wide brimmed hat he was wearing.
Jonghyun shrunk away from the intense stare, trying to mold himself into his mother’s leg. But she squeezed his tiny hand tightly and nudged him forward, urging him silently to show himself off. They’d dressed him in their finest clothing, and a light circlet of platinum, pearls and blue diamond rested on the top of his head. He bowed neatly and kept his eyes on the wet hove of the mammoth horse.
There was almost a susurrus in the ground and on the wind, as the man looked him over, like the world was holding is breath. Jonghyun knew that he was supposed to impress this man; something very important relied on that. But he didn’t understand how he was supposed to impress him without saying anything. So he looked up, meeting the stranger’s deep, vast eyes. “I-I’m Jonghyun,” he said quickly, ignoring the hiss that came from his mother, “I don’t know what your name is but I really like your eyes.” He remembered his father saying that one should always be kind to the person they are speaking with, compliments help. “Please, Sir, we’re a fishing kingdom, my father says, but there haven’t been any fish.” He trailed off when the man got off his horse.
“Please, he’s only a boy,” His mother gasped, her voice fearful, but Jonghyun didn’t know why, as the man crouched down to bring them eye level. A large hand brushed some hair from the young prince’s face, and the motion caused a gust of what smelled like warm sea air across the boys face, and he inhaled greedily.
“You are bold,” he said, in two voices twined to become one. It made Jonghyun’s ears itch. “To speak to me as such. You like my eyes, do you? Is there anything else of me you like?”
The boy flushed and looked him over, frowning slightly. “Um… the only thing that’s yours is the eyes,” he muttered softly, afraid he was failing some kind of test. “I’m sorry?”
A look of surprise crossed the stranger’s face, and then it want back to blank contemplation as he leaned closer and cupped Jonghyuns chin. “What skills do you have, Prince Jonghyun, who sees many things?”
“I sing,” he offered, trying not to fight the stranger’s hold on him. The only person who ever held him like this was his Nan, when he’d been sneaking food again, and she had been very furious. She would hold his chin tight and yell at him, rambling about a prince’s duties and other things he didn’t care about.
“So you do,” the stranger muttered, letting him go after a moment and standing, remounting his horse and eyeing the king and queen. “There is a cove under your castle that leads out to the bay. Bring him down to sing to me during the full moons,” he ordered, and Jonghyun felt tense, wondering if his mother or father would reject. He’d never seen them take orders. “And when he is old enough, he will be mine.” With a clap of thunder that felt like it came from the ground itself, the man left as quickly as he had arrived, disappearing into the mist at the end of the way.
As soon as he was gone from their sight, Jonghyun was scooped up into his mother’s arms and hugged so tightly he thought his ribs would break.
“Momma,” he whined, trying to wiggle out of her grip. “Momma its okay now, let me go.”
“You are the bravest, stupidest boy,” she whispered hotly into his neck. “You can’t just talk to a god like that, Jonghyun! He could have killed you, killed us all!” She was getting his collar wet, so he stopped struggling and chose to hold her just as tight.
“He said it was okay,” he offered, patting her back awkwardly. “He wants to hear me sing, so it’s okay momma. Don’t cry.” The queen put him down slowly, taking a moment to fuss over his suit jacket and the circlet on his head as she schooled her face, and Jonghyun took the hanky from his pocket and dapped at her wet eyes, trying very hard not to smudge the heavy makeup that caked onto her beauty. The action brought a smile to her face and she poked his nose gently, standing tall and taking his hand.
She nodded to her husband, who had kept a calm face despite having gone ashen when their only child had opened his mouth to actually speak to the Sea God. The king returned the nod and curtly turned around, marching back into their manor. It wasn’t that he was unfeeling towards his son. He wanted very dearly to hold him close after the stunt, but he had an appearance to keep. Women were emotional, so the queen was allowed to tend to the child, but he must keep stoic in the eyes of the public.
The full moon was a week away and in that time, Jonghyun was taught an old song. Dirge of a Sailor, his Nan called it; a song that spoke of a girl who fell in love with a sailor. The man had to go out to sea before they could wed, and she promised to wait for him by a lighthouse. His ship was wrecked and he never came home, but the girl still waited.
He didn’t like the ending very much. His Nan said it was poetic, but six year old Jonghyun didn’t understand and he didn’t like it. So in secret, he changed the ending, making it so that the young girl, now a woman, had made her annual trip to the light house, and upon turning to leave, was met with an elderly man, weary and who smelled of the ocean’s brine. It was her sailor, home at last. He liked that ending better, but when he sang it for his Nan and his parents, they were furious. He couldn’t change an age-old song!
“Why not?” he’d asked curiously but no one had answered.
The night of the full moon, he was taken down a corridor he’d never been to, down a dark set of stairs that made him clutch onto his father. Down they went, until suddenly one of the walls cut away, revealing what looked to young Jonghyun, as a private beach. The stone stairs disappeared into sand that lead down to the ocean. It flowed in through an opening in the rocks some distance out.
“Whoa,” he gasped, eyes wide, taking in the natural wonder. Beside him his father chuckled.
“Come now, Jonghyun. The moon should be rising any minute now. You must strip and step into the water. Remember how to sing the song,” he said pointedly. “No more adlibs of yours.” Swiftly, he helped his son undress, clasping his shoulders lightly before stepping back out of the firelight and trying to calm his nerves.
Jonghyun frowned at his father, but turned and walked down into the cold water, hissing as the waves lapped at his flesh. He waded out until he was waist deep and soon the bright light of the moon was dead center on the horizon. It was beautiful in the eyes of the young prince, and he swallowed, remembering what he was there for at last, clearing his throat, and singing. His high voice cut through the gentle crash of waves on the small shore, and around him he felt the water, like it was humming in tune to his song.
As he drew closer to the end of the song, he could feel eyes on him, whether they were from his father or from someone else, he couldn’t know. Being a stubborn six year old, he decided to go with his gut. Choosing the happier ending for the tale, he held out the last note longer than he was told, letting it fade slowly under the sound of the waves.
Panting slightly in exhaustion, he waited, wondering if he should turn back to his father, if the man would be proud or disappointed. Nothing was happening, he pouted a little and splashed in the water. Wasn’t something supposed to happen? Some sudden rush to say that, yes, he’d been chosen and the fish would come back? He was about to cry, thinking he’d ruined it with his different ending, when suddenly the water around him started to bubble, tickling his skin and the young boy giggled, distracted from the heavy task set before him, and choosing instead to play with the bubbles that danced around him like magic.
A heavy gust of wind rushed past him, sweeping into his hair, but he played it no mind, intent to play. To the king, however, the wind held a voice, old and ancient, powerful with intent and the smell of the warm sea air. It said “mine” in a voice that wasn’t a voice, and went back to swirl around the boy who played in its waters.
__
For three years the little kingdom of Silya prospered, growing to envelop farmlands to help sustain itself, and soon it was pushing the boundaries of other kingdoms. The neighboring kingdoms grew jealous, envious of Silya’s sudden prosperity. One of these kingdoms, the desert kingdom of Nysis, set about to engage in a series of espionage games, infiltrating the monarchy on almost every level.
Jonghyun, now nine, was a sight to behold, ever the pretty child with his mother’s smile and his father’s eyes. He spent much of his time in Poseidon’s temple, learning from the acolytes or playing in a field with the younger kids of the royal court. He still had his daily singing lessons but he was no longer taught songs, it seemed the god enjoyed Jonghyun’s free verse lyrics to the older tales, sometimes sending dolphins or even sharks to swim with the boy when he was particularly enchanted.
The happiness couldn’t last. The jealous kingdom had bided its time, learned that the prosperity of its rival rested on the shoulders of a boy who had won the heart of a god, and they planned to act. In the dead of night, the castle was raided, and Jonghyun was taken from his bed. As small as he was, he gave a good fight, but he was no match for full-grown men.
“Let me go!” he shouted, as they carried him from his bed. He kicked and squirmed, scratching and biting and doing everything he could to wriggle out of their hands and get away. In desperation, he started to sing, frantically, as loudly as he could. It was a new moon, so the water beneath the castle was at its lowest point. It was sand all the way down to the mouth of the cave, but he tried; tried to call on his one true guardian, and he felt the powers stir, the terror in his voice startling the immortal.
Unable to walk on land as a man, the god had to rely on his acolytes for a physical form, but even as he overshadowed the strongest of them, Jonghyun was being tossed into a wagon. Poseidon saddled his steed, the ebony stallion that only listened to him, and galloped as fast as the mist could take him to the castle. But Jonghyun was long gone, voice silenced by a belt between his teeth. His royal skin, unused to such rough treatment cracked and bled around the corner of his lips as tears slowly leaked from his eyes. He wanted Poseidon. He wanted Nan. More than anything, he wanted Momma and Poppa to come and save him.
Instead, he was slapped for the tears, a dark, vilely amused chuckle filling the small wagon. “Where’s your god now, slut?”
Jonghyun didn’t know.
-12 years later-
There was a sandstorm coming in; the thick wall could be seen for miles, climbing high and imposing. The townspeople scurried about, tying things down or moving them inside, their slaves hard at work on similar tasks. Slaves in this fiefdom where cheap labor and out in the desert a cheap, replaceable workforce was standard since slaves were lost under the rolling waves of sand.
“Move that barrel!” the foreman cried as two slaves heaved against a heavy crate, their skin tanned and scarred thanks to the unrelenting sun and the even more unrelenting whip of the task Master. The hiss of the well-worn leather unfurling made the two men struggle harder, putting all of their weight behind moving the heavy object across the slate rock in which it rested. The leather weapon cracked above their heads; a warning shot, as the Master never missed, and they pushed, both groaning with the strain, finally inching the dense object over the flat stone and into an enclosure.
The man nodded briskly and motioned for them to seek shelter in the main house, their work done, and turned to see to the others slaves. The smaller of the two slaves, oddly thinner despite being more muscular, grasped the other’s hand and dragged him toward the place to which their Master had motioned.
“Come on Jinki,” he groaned, tugging the weary boy with him. “We have to get underground. There will be food in the shelter I promise.” Slaves weren’t allowed in the main enclosure with the family and free staff. They all had little alcoves under their bunkrooms.
“I don’t wanna do this,” the older man protested weakly, as he let himself be dragged away, falling silent at the sharp look the other sent him. “Jason, let’s not do this.”
Jason growled sharply and tightened his grip on Jinki’s wrist, tugging him into their bunkroom and down into the shelter entrance where three other slaves waited, huddled against the wall. The muscular boy slammed the thatch cover that served as a roof and door to the shelter, securing it before he slumped down beside the older man, sighing heavily.
“How long before it hits?” a thin, delicate looking boy asked. He was a favorite of the Master’s heavy-handed son, and the other boys knew his appearance was deceptive. His tone was antsy and he fiddled with the skirt he always wore. Beside him, an equally pretty slave grasped his hands tightly, as if to calm him.
“Soon, Taemin,” he whispered. He wore pants like the regular slaves, though Jinki said that he used to be like Taemin, until he bit the son. Jason always suspected whatever it was hadn’t gone over well with the Master, since the slave was still working in the house and seemed none the worse for wear. He looked over at the three boys on the other side of the enclosure. “Right?”
“I don’t know, Kibum. Jinki doesn’t want to do this,” Jason said, glaring at the oldest boy, who blushed and hung his head. “And if Jinki doesn’t go, we can’t go.”
Taemin made a soft whining noise, tinted with panic as he clutched Key’s hand harder, and Jason felt a little bad bringing it up when he was around. Sure, the kid was strong, but there was only so much shit one can be put through. Jinki regretted it too; his face had drained off the color of his blush, and instead he stoically stared at his feet.
Jason moved to crouch before him, resting his hands on the older man’s shoulders and tried to catch his eye. “We can’t leave you here,” he said, cupping the man’s face to get him to meet his gaze. “I wont. What do you think they’d do to you if the four of us left and you stayed behind? Would it be better than the punishment if we got caught?”
“T-they’ve been good to me,” Jinki whispered, voice horse. He hated crying in front of others but his eyes gleamed wetly in the low light. “I…I know it’s selfish because of how they’ve treated Taemin, but I…they’re not bad people.”
“Jinki hyung.” The deep voice from the tall, well-built boy in the corner almost rumbled through the small enclosure. The kind youth in his face didn’t fit such a voice, but it had a smooth sound to it, Taemin said it was like Chocolate, a delicacy he sometimes was given by the Master’s son. “The Master whipped your feet so bad you couldn’t walk for a week because you tripped and fell at his feet, scuffing his boots. How is that ‘being good’ to you?”
The older man rubbed his hands though his hair furiously. “Minho, its not…ah!” he groaned and then sighed heavily. “Its different, for you two. You and Jason weren’t born into slavery. I’ve never been free…” His voice dropped to a whisper and Jason sighed, reaching to give the man’s shoulder a tight squeeze.
“We’ll be free soon enough,” he said. “I think you’ll like it,” he added as he moved over to Minho, who was shaking his head at the older boy. The muscular slave just shrugged and dug out five packs, starting to load three of them full of water skins. He lifted one over his shoulder with a groan, nearly tipping backwards before righting himself and crouching down again, stuffing the other two packs to the brim with dried and salted meats. “Do you think we can do this?” he whispered lowly.
The taller boy rolled his eyes as he tugged on Jason’s pack. “Take this off for now. We need to change first.” He avoided the question for a while, helping the older boy gather the clothes into 5 neat piles. He brought them over to the other boys, quietly urging them to change as quickly as they could. They had a very small window between the bell that signaled the Master had been locked away and when the storm actually hit.
Taemin was more than eager to slip out of the skirt he was wearing and into the many layers of protective clothing. Jinki was hesitant, ashamed that he didn’t want to leave exactly, and stepped further into the shadows of the little dugout, trying to hide the scars on his body as he, too changed.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Jason scowled as he suited up and helped Minho change.
“We should wait,” the taller boy whispered, aware of Jinki’s eyes on him. Six years ago they were both sold into the household. Jinki had taken an instant liking to Jason, but would always watch Minho when he and the more muscular boy were alone, like he was afraid. Minho tried his best to discourage the older man’s fears and insecurities when it came to Jason. It was easier that way. “I’ve been praying every night. The God has a plan, if we just-”
“No,” Jason shot back instantly. “He abandoned me. I’m not waiting for him,” he snapped just as a single, clear bell rang out through the compound. “Let’s go,” he said, handing one of the water-laden bags to Minho as he shouldered another, walking over to Jinki to hand him the third. “Let’s go,” he said more gently, holding the heavy bag for him to put on.
The older man stumbled into Jason with the weight, but nodded nonetheless, waiting his turn as Minho heaved himself out of the cubby and into their room, reaching down to pull Jinki through.
Jason handed the bags of meat to Key and Taemin as they, too, were hoisted up. He was the last to go, but the first to lead them through the compound. The door was barred from the inside, but there were no guards posted, so it was simple to remove the metal rod that held them in place and let the gate open. It was too much work to close, so Jason ordered them to leave it, as they carefully made their way out into the streets and headed for the open desert.
There was a sudden roar on the winds. It thundered around the group like a hungry beast as the swirling sand storm came ever closer. Quickly, they covered their faces and covered their eyes with the metal workers’ goggles Minho had taken from his job.
Except the sandstorm never passed them like it should have. Instead, it stood before the group, a boiling reddish brown mass of twisting winds and sands that promised to blast any unprotected flesh from a traveler’s bones.
“Little songbird,” the wind howled as something that could be discerned as a face formed in the frothing mass of sand and air. “Where are you going? Did you think I would let you leave my lands?” It reached out with a tendril to wrap around Jason, ripping and tearing at his cloths, trying to find away in. ”I don’t think so, little songbird. I have yet to hear you sing.”
“Stop!” Minho hollered over the booming winds, his voice deep enough to be heard. “Set, he isn’t for you!”
“An acolyte,” the sand hissed, moving to wrap around the taller boy, “sent to protect the songbird who has stolen that old sea gods heart, hmm? I have not seen you in my sands. Where were you hiding?” It twirled and twirled, moving on to the other three, picking and pulling and trying to find flesh like a hungry carnivore digging for meat on a carcass. They cried out, Jinki dropping to his knees under the attack and the sand twisted and writhed around him, pleased with his submission.
“Not hiding,” Minho coughed, steeling himself as he tugged at the sleeve of his cover, ripping it down to show the trident shaped mark on his forearm. The sand screamed in victory and went to attack, even as Minho stripped Jason of his gloves and pressed his hand to the mark. “You have to,” he implored, as the sands scraped at their flesh, trying to peel it away, “You have to.”
The muscular man scowled behind his mask and gripped Minho’s arm tightly. “Poseidon,” he bellowed, singer’s voice carrying over the winds, “I need your help!”
No sooner had he finished speaking than a single drop of his blood spilling from a gash the sand had ripped into the back of his hand dropped to the dust below. It soaked into the parched ground, and there was a sudden roar from below, so loud and terrifying it gave the winds pause, twitching like a confused dog as the face in the dust disappeared.
There was a crack that sounded like lightning, or more like the sound of something being ripped from its seams as the earth shook, and a fissure broke out across the desert heading towards them. Taemin cried out and scrambled away, trying to run back towards the manor, an instinctual need for safety. Key quickly grabbed him and held him tight. Going back was a death sentence, just as much as being drowned in sand or swallowed by the earth was.
But it stopped yards from their location, and out ran five horses, the likes of which none of the boys had ever seen. Their coats were various shades of blue, and their bronze hooves and golden mains dripped as if they had just emerged from water. The heavy smell of brine filled the air as Jason and Minho ripped off their face covers.
Minho rushed to Kibum and Taemin, assisting the elder in helping the panicked boy onto a saddleless horse. Taemin had a white knuckled grip on the poor animal’s mane by the time Minho, Key and he had settled as well.
“Jinki, lets go,” Jason urged, watching anxiously as the sands regrouped and headed for them. “We don’t have time to waste.” He gripped the older boy’s wrist and tugged him up. Jinki resisted the help, standing on his own as he yanked his mask off, wearily staring at the muscular boy, who was urging one of the remaining horses towards the older boy.
“Who are you?” Jinki demanded, as he climbed atop the beast. He didn’t want to, didn’t trust the stranger his friend had turned into, but there had been no turning back as soon as they’d stepped outside the gates, so it was all he could do.
“I’m Kim Jonghyun,” the younger boy confessed as he climbed atop the navy black horse, “crown prince of Silya, and we really need to leave.” His horse, as if waiting for that verbal command, shot off like a rocket across the desert, the others following instantly, accompanied by squawk and screech of their unprepared riders.
The winds howled out angrily, sweeping over the barren plans, giving chase as Jonghyun lead them straight across the land. He was drawing on the knowledge of Poseidon. The storm Set was riding would die out soon, and he hoped the horses would last as long as was needed. They had hundreds of miles to cross before they hit the imperial highway, if Minho’s memory was correct, and it was the only safe place from the wrath of an angry sand god in the desert.
The winds licked at their heels, the sand underneath them shifting and twirling, trying to trip the horses up and make them fall; but they didn’t, jumping and dancing around the pits of sand, they flew across the desert at speeds of which Jonghyun couldn’t keep track. He kept tossing glances back to make sure his friends were still there.
It was welling into the darkness, their travels illuminated by the full moon, when they hit grass, and then the gravel of the imperial highway. It represented a trading pact between the kingdoms, and was equally kept by all. It wasn’t long after that, having slowed to a trot when the vicious winds stirred and snapped at the edge of the sands but never entered the graveled road of the highway, when Key cried out in alarm. Taemin had fallen off the horse, slumping onto the ground and just lay there. Naturally, Key was the first one off his horse and to the younger boy, trying to get him to sit up, to move.
“Come on,” he hissed, pulling the slender boy to him. “We cant stop here, we have to keep moving,” he insisted, but the younger boy whined and shook his head harder. “Taemin it’s not safe!”
“It hurts,” the boy whispered, pulling his legs up, and whining. His nights with the Master’s son coupled with his inexperience with horses had made the sudden, harrowing journey a hard one on the youngest slave. Pain hotter than a whip dragged up his spine and he just couldn’t anymore. “P-please can we just rest now?”
“We have to keep moving,” Jonghyun insisted, even as Jinki dismounted and handed a water skin to Taemin. He didn’t say anything as he gently guided the horses to the side of the trail. They were just barely onto the stone road and some grass, despite it all, had grown over the area. The horses were eager to munch on the flora he led them too.
After he helped Kibum move Taemin, who was clinging to the other bed slave like his life depended on it, he went over to Minho and Jonghyun, not meeting their eyes.
“W-we’re all going to collapse if we don’t rest,” he muttered, staring at the metallic hooves of the horses. “None of us has eaten. I-it’s a good a place as any.” Jinki played with his fingers, having stripped off the gloves to keep a better grip on the mane of his horse.
Minho sighed dispassionately, not that he didn’t care for the other boys, but the closer they were to the sea, the safer they would be. He could also see Jonghyun wearing down under the nerves of the older slave and he was desperate to end whatever their connection was before the god ended it himself.
“They’ll be fine here, Jjong,” he insisted. “Lets leave them and continue ourselves. They have horses and water, food. They’ll be fine.”
Jonghyun sighed and glared at the taller boy as he slid off his horse. “No they won’t. Where would they go?” he snapped, letting the dark animal join the rest of its herd. “And besides, hyung is right. We need to stop and rest.” He sighed when Jinki sidestepped him, and instead moved to go see how Taemin was.
Minho sighed angrily and followed, ignoring Jinki as he tried to help and sat away from the rest of the group. He clasped his hands together tightly and immersed himself in his prayers, thanking the sea god for his help and promising to see Jonghyun back to him safely.
“How are we safe?” Key asked Jonghyun as he broke off bits of dried meat to feed to Taemin, as he massaged his thighs gently. “If that really was Set, he’s a god. Just because we aren’t on sand anymore doesn’t mean he loses his power.”
He glanced at the ever-shifting sands just beyond the grassy area in which they were staying. “And what was that, with Minho? And the earthquake and these horses. I mean…what the fuck, Jason?” he snapped, irritable, and Jonghyun sighed.
“First of all, my name is Jonghyun, not Jason,” he amended, ignoring the way the younger boy’s eyebrow arched. “I was kidnaped from my home when I was nine and sold here. They changed my name because of people knew who I really was, I’d be in danger.”
“So who are you really then?” the catty slave snapped, suddenly impatient with the older boy.
“My name is Kim Jonghyun, I’m a prince, from the coastal Kingdom of Silya,” he said again, ignoring the guffaw that fell from the younger boy and the look of utter defeat that passed over Jinki’s face. “I’m serious. That’s where we’re headed. You’ll see.”
Kibum rolled his eyes, cooing gently when he realized Taemin had fallen asleep, and brushed some hair out of his face. “So what about everything else, Milord?” he snapped quietly. He had a soft spot for the young bed slaves. Being able to empathize with him and offer a shoulder when it all became too much, and no matter how important the conversation he was having was, he wouldn’t risk anything waking the boy up.
“Gods are real,” Minho interjected, coming back to the group, sitting beside Jonghyun when the older boy fell silent. “Its not often that they interject themselves with mortal affairs directly, but they’re always about. Considering that Set is the only desert god, I can understand why no one would want to draw his attention,” he muttered, glairing angrily at the desert.
“We’re safe because this road is watched over by Hermes, god of travelers. It was built in his honor, and he watches it closely. The horses…” he paused to nod at them taking a deep sip from a water skin and then forcing it into Jonghyun’s hands, trying to get him to drink as well, “and the earthquake, they came from Poseidon, The sea god, patron god of Silya. I am an acolyte in his service,” he added, rubbing a hand over the trident mark on his biceps, “and Prince Jonghyun is his sworn consort.”
Jonghyun went beat red as Key started laughing. But Jinki just choked on his jerky, taking a few moments to force it down before he cleared his throat and stared at Jjong like he’d been stabbed. “S-seriously? You… and a god… and” he blushed, and looked down at his hands, the slumping of his shoulders having nothing to do with the weariness of the day.
“I was six when we made the deal,” he muttered as he dropped his gaze, playing with his fingers and not wanting to see the look of heartbreak on Jinki’s face. “I would sing to him until I was of age, and he would bring the fish back so my kingdom wouldn’t starve. When I was 18 I was supposed to go to him, but I was kidnapped, from my own bedroom,” he growled, bitter, age-old anger, “and he never saved me.”
“He tried,” Minho implored. “He took my brother and went after you. He just… couldn’t hear you” the taller boy sighed and stripped off his overcoat, rolling it up and using it as a pillow. “If Set had been shielding you, it would make sense why he could never find you.” He ripped off a piece of his undershirt and soaked it in water from one of the skins, moving to wash the gash on Jonghyun’s hand. After it was clean he ripped another strip to bandage it, the prince letting him, posture resigned as he kept his eyes on his feet. “He came when you called him,” Minho pressed on. “If anything, that should show he still cares for you.”
“He cares for me like a child cares for a toy that was taken,” Jonghyun snapped, pulling his hand away. “Gods don’t feel love for mortals. Zeus more than proved that when he ran around with,” he paused for affect to glair at Minho, “how many lovers did he have, temple boy?” he snapped, turning from the rest of the group pointedly; away from Key's judgment, Minho’s faith and Jinki's heartbreak, not wanting to face it.
It got cold at night in the desert, something they all were well aware of. The added layers to protect against the sun’s rays were useful for keeping in the heat at night, as well. Key, for all that he was starting to hate both Minho and Jonghyun, had given them both his coats in lieu of inviting them into the nest he'd made out of Jinki and Taemin’s, forcing the older boy into cuddling with them to keep warm.
Minho seemed content with this, even as he placed himself between the three of them and Jonghyun, urging the young prince to sleep, assuring him that he would take first watch.
Jonghyun relented, exhaustion from the ride and the adrenaline from outrunning the sand god coupled with the less than accepting reaction from the people he'd considered his friends pulling him into a restless sleep.
"You’re too harsh on him, Kibum," Jinki whispered later in the night, when it was time for the younger boy to take watch. "It’s not like he's different from the boy we roomed with last week."
The younger slave scoffed and huddled closer to Taemin for warmth, the boy still in a deep, undisturbed slumber. After watching him pass out from exertion, no one had the heart to wake him.
"The three of us were born into servitude. Everything we've done was at the behest of someone who had total control of our lives. Jas... Jonghyun is a prince who was probably spoiled rotten. He lied to us. What else is he lying about? Was he really a prisoner? Minho apparently got himself sold to our Master, how do we know Jonghyun wasn’t just being held there until he could go back and reclaim his kingdom? Maybe he killed someone and that’s why he was sold." The younger boy pressed himself closer to the sleeping slave. "Sure he used to give us some of his food, but I don’t know him anymore."
"You’re being paranoid," Jinki hissed angrily. There wasn’t anything he'd heard in the last few hours that would change his opinion of the muscular young slave. "He's the same boy who takes whippings for me or Taemin when he can. He's the same boy who wouldn’t leave any of us behind. How can finding out he was a prince once change your opinion so fast?"
"How can finding out he belongs to a god not change yours?" Key snapped, shoving the man gently down to the ground. “I know you love him, hyung, but don’t let your emotions fool you. There’s no place for us in his life as a prince.”
Jinki sighed and shook his head, recognizing a lost cause when he saw one, and taking his place next to a sleeping Taemin. “He’s not like that,” he said, pretending he was talking to the youngest boy. “You’ll see”
-~-~-~-~-~
It was a clear, hot and uneventful morning as Jonghyun roused them all from their sleep. Ideally, he’d wanted to be moving during the night, to keep the heat of the sun from wearing them down, but they had no shelter, so they had to keep moving if they didn’t want to be cooked. The horses had been settled at some point. Jonghyun hadn’t heard anything, but he left some meat as an offering to whatever god or sprite had been so helpful.
Taemin felt awful. The younger boy was used to being thought of as the weakest slave because of his duties in the house, but he’d been struggling to make the other slaves think of him as stronger, more useful, and less of a pampered bed slave. So when he awoke and discovered he’d passed out in exhaustion and forced the others to camp, he’d been devastated, offering to do anything the others needed; helping them with their cloaks and desert gear, filling the saddle bags, watering the horses that apparently didn’t need to be watered.
He still sulked as they rode out, Kibum hanging in back with him, informing the younger boy of who Jonghyun really was and what exactly the bullshit in the desert the other day had been about. The older boy didn’t have time to figure out what emotion the wide eyed look Taemin was sending him contained, too busy trying to figure out which way he needed to be heading on the road. There weren’t any road signs around, and even if he’d learned his letters in the temple before he left, he wasn’t confident in his ability to read anything. Minho, on the other hand, confidently nudged his horse forward in one direction, offering a not unkind, “It’s this way,” to the struggling prince and leading them down the road south of the way they’d just come.
Jonghyun sighed heavily, looking down at his hands, and clenched the reigns of the horse tightly. He was a man now, and he couldn’t even make a decision on which direction he should go. How was he supposed to lead a kingdom? He shook his head and sighed again, carefully following Minho, and looking back briefly to make sure Key and Taemin were still with them. The snarky boy may have been weary of him. Kibum hated liars and Jonghyun had lied about something very big. Jjong cared for him, had considered him his best friend. They’d both been at the Master’s manor the longest. He’d never really ever gotten a chance to show it outright, but he’d considered them close, and he wanted them to come with him to his kingdom, to freedom.
“They’ll be okay,” Jinki’s soft voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up into the older boy’s face before looking down and shrugging. “Key’s just upset you lied, so he’s being paranoid. Taemin’ll follow his lead for a bit until he figures it out for himself.” He offered the younger boy a strip of meat, staring expectantly at the more muscular boy until he ate it, then handing him another. “So… what’s your god like? From what you can remember?”
Jonghyun looked up at him, startled, and licked his lower lip, chewing on it as he looked away, trying to remember. “I… I used to make up songs to sing him, and he’d make the water bubble for me to play in, or send dolphins and sharks to take me swimming out deeper into the ocean.” He sighed, a small smile coming onto his face as he remembered the coolness of the water and the soft texture of the dorsal fins under his fingers as he sped along under the waves.
“Gods don’t have a… like a form, like you or me, so he has to borrow people, his acolytes, to do things on land.” His voice got faint and dreamy as he stroked the golden mane of the stallion he was riding. “You could always tell it was him, though. His eyes were bright aquamarine, like the ocean on a perfect day, and he always smelled like brine.” He took a deep breath, out of habit. The horses smelled less like the open ocean than they had the night before, but the deep homesickness it had instilled in the young prince had not ebbed with its fading.
“Hey, are you okay?” Jinki asked, reaching over to rest a hand on Jonghyun’s shoulder and squeezing. “You looked a little lost.” He smiled brightly and let him go, dropping his hands back to his reigns. “It sounds like you really loved him. Your god, I mean.”
“I was nine,” Jonghyun snapped, wincing at the hurt look that passed over the older man’s face, and stumbled to rephrase. “I was a child, I loved him like any child would love an uncle who showered presents on him.” He paused at Jinki’s lost look, and tried again. “Like a kind Master who gives you rewards when you do something he likes,” he offered, and the older slave nodded, understanding. It was Jonghyun’s turn to smile, albeit weakly.
“You guys are going to come and live with me, right?” he asked, hopefully, a child in the skin of a man. “I insist. If I remember correctly the manor was more than large enough, and I’d worry about you guys on your own.” He sighed again, biting his lip. They were all runaways, now. He and Minho had the safety of the Kingdom of Silya, should anything happen, but what about Jinki and Key and Taemin?
“You have to stay with me” he decided, it was the only way he could, with any percentage of certainty, guarantee they wouldn’t be snatched up again. It should still the safest place in the kingdom despite what happened.
They traveled more slowly that day, yet they seemed to be eating up just as much ground as if they had cantered the horses anyway, only getting off to make waste or stretch their legs. They rode along as the desert stretched for miles in each direction, only small tufts of grass scattered on each side of the stone path.
It was uneventful and hot. They followed the road as best they could, weary of the sand that seemed to have stopped following their movements. It was possible Set was needed elsewhere, or he just got bored. They had water enough for three days before they would need more and, while logically he knew that the horses they were riding were immortal, the same ones who sometimes pulled Poseidon’s chariot, it still felt weird not giving them water as they munched down on the grass whenever they were resting.
“Where the hell are we, oh great and mighty lord?” Key snapped, as they bedded down for another night, grabbing Jonghyun by the collar and shaking him. “You were the one with the plan, right? Does your plan include us finding a way out of this goddamn desert?” The younger boy dropped Jjong and shoved him away, “We’re all going to die because the little prince couldn’t-”
“Kibum that is enough,” Jinki snapped suddenly, his voice so loud it echoed in the vast emptiness around them. “You act like you didn’t want to run away just as much as the rest of us did. Even if he weren’t a prince, we’d still be lost, so either shut your fucking mouth or help us figure out a way out, okay?”
That had caught everyone’s attention, the snarky boy’s mouth shutting with an audible click of his teeth, cowed under the sudden anger of the usually passive man. He huffed in annoyance and started unsettling the horses, brushing them down as the other boys set up a small camp and argued over watches. He didn’t come back to the group until everyone was settled and gnawing on their nightly rations of dried beef.
“Key is right,” he said at length, while everyone was still sitting in the tense atmosphere from his earlier outburst, scared to set the older man off again, but the words brought a smug smile to the snarky slave’s face. “We need more of a plan than ‘follow the road’ because while I’m sure it will lead us out of the desert eventually, we only have maybe two days’ worth of food and water left.” He shrugged and looked down at the meat in his hand. “More than likely we’ll run out of water sooner, with the salted food we’re eating.” He bit a chunk off and chewed thoughtfully, but when no one offered any ideas he sighed and swallowed his food.
“When I was a kid I heard that there was a tribe of nomads that wandered the desert and would bring slaves across it for a price. They knew where the watering holes were, and were said to travel in the blind spot of the god.” He hummed and shrugged, kicking a little sand at Jonghyun. “Now that I know gods actually exist, why shouldn’t they exist, too?”
Key threw his hands up in exasperation, “So now we’re believing in that old slaves tail?” he snapped, scowling darkly, “Sure, why not. We’re lost and going to die anyway, oh, maybe little fairy’s that glow at midnight will come and lead us out of the desert”
“I’m sorry” Jinki said, voice taking on the rough dark edge it had earlier, “Did we or did we not, just ride away from a sandstorm that spoke to us, on horses that came out of the ground?” he looked over at said animals, who still grazed happily on the scant flora by the road, “Given the shit that we’ve seen the other night, how exactly are nomadic caravans less likely?”
The catty boy huffed and crossed his arms continuing to scowl as he glared at the oldest slave, “Then, how exactly are you planning on finding these nomads, huh?” he looked around as if to demonstrate the vast nothingness on all sides, “Because I don’t see them anyway” he cupped his hands over his mouth “hey, Nomads!” he shouted, “Come and save us!” his voice died out over the sands and he raised an eyebrow, looking back at Jinki, who was staring at him blankly, “I’m sure they’ll find us”
Everyone around the camp shifted awkwardly. Jonghyun and Minho darted their eyes around antsy and wondering what, if not who, had heard the annoyed boys call while Jinki sighed and shook his head, “What is your problem, Kibum?”
“I don’t want to die!” the boy snapped angrily, rolling up into a ball and facing away from the rest of them, “Taemin couldn’t stay with Master any longer so I agreed to leave, but we’re all going to die out here anyway, aren’t we?”
The youngest boy flinched, curling into himself, and Jonghyun wrapped an arm around him, holding him tight as he rolled his eyes at the snarky slave, “I’m sorry” Taemin whispered, as Jonghyun shook his head.
“No one’s going to die” he said sharply, rubbing the pretty slaves arm reassuringly, kissing the top of his head, “No one’s dying” he said softer this time. Across from them, key sighed heavily, regretting his words, but they were to true to take back, “I have first watch tonight, okay? Why don’t you get some sleep?” The younger boy shrugged, nonplussed, and sighed, pulling away to curl up by himself.
Minho, who had been silently praying through the entire exchange rolled his eyes and tossed the rest of his food as far as he could into the desert, an offering, and grabbed key by the back of his coat, dragging the struggling boy across the sand to Taemin, “I don’t want to hear it Kibum, it gets really cold at night and we’d be warmer if we all stayed together” He commanded, shoving the boy down next to the youngest. Any complaint Key was about to unleash on the tallest slave died in his throat as Taemin curled up on him, and instead the catty slave turned to whisper with him, stroking his back gently. Jinki and Minho built a nest out of their coats and settled in beside them; preparing to sleep as Jonghyun hunkered down, settling in for a long night.
They had given Taemin the watch closet to morning; he was to wake them up as soon as the sun was on the horizon. He idly traced patterns into the sand he sat on, looking around at the great big nothing they’d gotten themselves into. He was grateful to Jonghyun and Minho and Key and Jinki, to all leave and take him with them. He felt like such a tag along, not having been able to do anything for the older slaves, lucky just because he happened to be bunked in the same room as them. He pouted and glanced at the sleeping boys, Minho and Key had their backs to each other, while Jinki had somehow managed to wiggle his way up against Jonghyuns’ chest, whether their arms were entangled or not, Taemin couldn’t see under the layer of coats. The younger boy felt proud of his hyung, for all that it was a fleeting moment, he’d gotten close to his crush. Jinki was so very strong, Taemin thought, knowing every step they took would lead to Jonghyun never being his, and yet he took them anyway.
He pouted, sighing again and looking out over the slowly brightening waist land. He wanted to be strong like that, or strong like Key who was so scared, but ran away so Taemin would be free, strong like Minho who apparently willingly went into slavery for 6 years to help break Jonghyun out. He stared at the sleeping prince for a moment, wondering if he could be strong like him, at least, giving himself to someone in exchange for his entire kingdom. He wondered if he could explain it to key like that. Jonghyun’s been a slave almost his entire life, a spoiled one, he’d grant Key that, but a slave none the less, his body sold to a god for the price of a kingdom. He sighed heavily and scanned the empty desert again, waiting for the sun to rise, sick of being alone.
It was then that his eyes landed on the dove, so pure white it almost hurt to look at. It was sitting, staring at him from just beyond the road, and he knew, knew he should have woken one of the older boys up, told them about the dove, but instead, he got up, pulling the cover over his head, and walked over to it. The creature, upon his approaches, fluttered away, landing a few feet back, still watching him expectantly. He didn’t know what drove him forward, but the young boy found himself following the curious animal, each time he would get close, it would take flight, drawing him further and further away from the road and back into the desert.
As the sun rose up on the desert, filling the air with a thick haze as it rose into the sky, it made following the small bird harder, and he sometimes lost it in the white heat of the terrain. He was truly lost now, everything looked the same in every direction he turned, and he whimpered quietly, having no other choice than to follow the strange dove as it winked in and out of his eye sight. He whined again, stumbling over the long coat as he tried to find the bird, his only sense of direction. He crashed down into the sands, groaning slightly under his own weight and stayed there for a moment, just a rest, he thought, before slowly forcing himself onto his hands and knees. The dove was back, not a foot from his face, watching him curiously.
With a groan, he forced himself back onto his feet, biting his lip as he pressed forward under the oppressive, melting heat, following the bird that was leading him deeper and deeper into the sands. He stumbled for a second time, a sob leaving his lips as he curled into a ball, lonely and desperate and hating himself. He never should have left, never should had followed the dove. He missed Key and Jinki and Jonghyun and Minho. He felt so useless with them, never able to help, always being given their food, having them take the blame for his mistakes. As much as he loved them he hated it but he missed them and he just wanted to see them again.
There was a soft pressure on his head, something that sounded like feathers landing on him, and he unfurled, slowly, looking up to see the dove peering at him. He moved forwards it and it hopped backwards, still trying to get him to fallow. Taemin tried to push himself up onto his feet, to walk again, but he just stumbled and fell. He shook his head at the dove, but it insisted, so Taemin crawled, clawing his way through the sands to try and follow, the pretty white dove he’d gambled his life on, why he needed to follow it, he had no idea, but he dragged himself forward like it wanted, pulling himself through the heat, through the thirst and the headache and the pain in his limps. He whined, reaching for the bird as it was almost at his fingertips, hadn’t moved, but when he touched it, it disappeared, and he was truly alone. He collapsed into the sands with a soul wrecking sob, weakly pounding his fit into the earth, how could he be so stupid?
He crawled forward a little more, hoping his body would make it to somewhere cooler, someplace with water, but he felt dizzy, everything hurt and he collapsed one final time, just unable to move anymore, even as he weakly clawed at the sands, sobbing dry tears and trying to keep going. Key wouldn’t want him to die here. He didn’t want to die here, not alone like this. But his vision was blurring, and going dark and he slumped, down onto the ground one final time.
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