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Chapter Text

One of Han Jisung's earliest memories is that of the death of his mother.

He was six at the time. His mother, the queen, had contracted a fatal illness during a trip to a neighboring kingdom. She had no symptoms until the moment she arrived home—she became violently ill and was immediately put on bedrest. The doctors hadn't the foggiest idea what was wrong with her, nor did they know how to cure her. Of course, no one mentioned to the young prince that his mother was on her deathbed. He was a little boy; no one wanted to bear the weight of telling a child his mother was dying.

Because of this, life went on fairly normally for a short while. Jisung and the king had to wear cloths covering their noses and mouths whenever they visited her so as to not contract the queen's disease.

"What's wrong, Mommy?" the young Prince Jisung asked.

"I'm not feeling well, darling," his mother replied with a smile. "But don't you worry. I'll be just fine."

"Okay, Mommy," Jisung replied happily. "Get well soon!" The little boy started to leave the room when his mother called out, "Wait, darling."

Jisung turned around and walked back to his mother's bedside. "What is it?" he asked.

"Can you make me a promise?" his mother asked. "A promise you'll never break, no matter what happens?"

"I guess so," Jisung said.

"Good." She took him by the hands. "Jisung, you are a very kind boy. I need you to promise me that you will always be kind. Never lose sight of your happiness, okay? Be happy and be kind, and the universe will reward you greatly for it." She took a deep breath. "Can you promise me that, darling?"

Jisung nodded. "I promise."

She squeezed his hands. "Good. Never forget it. I'll always be proud of you, Jisung." She smiled at him.

"Son, let's allow your mother to rest," the king said. "I'll see you in the morning," Jisung's father said solemnly to his mother. Together the two left the room. Jisung was a little confused at his mother's promise she'd asked him to make, but contented to know that she would be well again soon and that everything would be back to normal soon.

What Jisung didn't realize is that that would be the last conversation he would ever have with his mother. The next morning, the queen was dead.

"Son," his father said as he entered Jisung's bedroom, "I'm so sorry. I have some terrible news."

Jisung could see how upset his father was; the king was barely holding back tears. "What—what's wrong?" he asked nervously. He stood up and crossed the room, clutching his father's hand. "What is it, Daddy?"

"Son, I—Jisung, I don't know how to tell you this," his father said. "Let's sit down, okay?"

"Okay."

They sat down on Jisung's bed. The king rubbed a hand over his face. "Son," he said, tears rolling down his face, "your mother didn't make it. The doctors couldn't find a cure in time. She... she passed early this morning."

"W-what?" Jisung's eyes watered. "No, no, what do you mean? She—she said she'd get better!"

"I'm so sorry, Jisung. We'd all hoped she would. She—the funeral is in two days. I'm so sorry, son." With that, the king stood and left the room.

The funeral was the worst day of Jisung's life. He was glad that so many people in the kingdom cared enough about his mother to attend her funeral, but he couldn't help wondering why they were there if they'd never met her. Even the royal family from the neighboring kingdom attended the funeral. The king and queen were close friends with Jisung's parents, so it made sense that they would come to say their goodbyes. Their son, a young boy around Jisung's age, was also there and kept trying to talk to Jisung. He wasn't in the mood.

"Hi," the boy said.

"Hi," Jisung said quietly.

"I'm sorry about your mother."

"Me too."

"Maybe I could—”

"No thank you," Jisung cut the boy off, not even looking at him. "Please, I don't feel like talking right now."

"Oh... okay," the boy said. "Bye."

"Bye," Jisung said, finally looking up, only to find that the boy was already gone.

The rest of the funeral was a blur in Jisung's mind. The only part he could remember was when they began to lower his mother's coffin into her grave. The little boy had been trying to hold his emotions in as best he could, but at the sight of his mother being put into a hole in the ground, he couldn't take it anymore.

"No!" he sobbed. "No, no, no—” Jisung felt strong arms wrap around him. His father. He pulled the boy into a tight hug. Jisung buried his face in his father's chest and cried. "I know, son," the king whispered. "I know."

The king lifted Jisung into his arms and carried him away, the funeral service over. As they were leaving, Jisung caught sight of the boy from before—he knew it had to be him; he was the only other child to attend the funeral. Their eyes met. The boy waved. Suddenly, Jisung remembered his promise to his mother. Be happy. Be kind. He waved to the boy, tears still rolling down his face. The boy looked sad, although Jisung didn’t understand why. That boy had never met his mother; he had no reason to be sad.

Chapter Text

Over the years, Jisung kept the promise he made to his mother. He was nice to everyone he met, and when his father made the decision to remarry, he supported the king. 

“Son, I know this will probably be difficult for you,” the king said one day. It had been two years since the queen’s passing. “It's difficult for me as well. But this kingdom—”

“Needs a queen,” Jisung said with a smile. “I understand. Besides, I've met Grimhilde. I bet she'll be a good queen.”

She was not a good queen.

Grimhilde—or Your Majesty, as she ordered Jisung to call her—had no problem with making the lives of everyone around her miserable. She put laws in place giving her far more power than the king, which then allowed her to be cruel to the citizens of the kingdom. In her first year, both taxes and the number of executions soared exponentially. Within the castle, she was harsh to the servants, sometimes revoking their meal privileges if they dared to cross her. In addition, she always glared at Jisung and yelled at him when the king wasn't around. For a short while, she held back her cruelty from Jisung, fearful of angering the king.

But then one day, the king disappeared.

The king had been on a ship traveling north in order to meet with foreign trade partners. Queen Grimhilde received a letter informing her that the ship had never reached its destination. Jisung was nine years old.

“Poor boy,” the queen sneered. “Lost his father and his mother so young! Thank goodness neither of them had done anything worthwhile before they died, otherwise it would be a real shame.”

Jisung's eyes welled up with tears. “My—my parents—”

“Were nothing,” the queen growled in a low voice. “You had better forget about them, boy. You belong to me now.” With that, she sent him away.

Ever since that day, Queen Grimhilde didn't hesitate to treat Jisung as if he were nothing more than one of the servants. Each morning she sent him off to do chores with them. In the beginning, Jisung had tried to argue with her, but that only brought out the queen’s intense anger. In order to appease her, Jisung had no choice but to simply do as he was told. Jisung quickly came to find that he didn't mind all the chores, whether it be cooking, cleaning, or anything else the queen could come up with. They gave him a sense of purpose. The servants appreciated not only Jisung's help, but also his kindness towards them.

“She wants you to be miserable, you know,” a maid told him one afternoon.

“I know,” the prince replied.

“Then how can you be so. . . nice?”

Jisung laughed. “Lots of practice,” he said with a smile. “I also promised my mother to always be kind. It was the last conversation we'd ever had.”

“I'm so sorry, Prince Jisung,” the maid said.

“Oh, please, you know you don't have to call me that. I'm just Jisung.”

“And you know that we all have more respect for you than that.”

“Okay, okay, fair enough,” Jisung said.

From a high tower in the castle, the queen watched the two with a frown on her face. She crossed the room to her mirror and gave herself a once-over. Straightening the crown on her head, she said:

“Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who in this land is fairest of all?”

“You, my queen, are fairest of all,” replied the enchanted mirror without hesitation.

“And so it shall remain,” muttered the queen, returning her gaze to the window where Jisung and the maid had begun walking back indoors. Mark my words, thought the queen. That boy will never have this throne.

~~~~~~~~~~

The years went on. As the young prince grew older, he became more and more beautiful. Everyone noticed. Everyone who came into contact with Prince Jisung (which happened only occasionally; Jisung was rarely permitted to leave the castle) could not help but remark at both his beauty and the gentleness of his soul. Queen Grimhilde, vain as she was, threw out all of Jisung's “princely” clothes, as she called them, and replaced them with the same rags the servants were to wear. However, what the prince wore made no difference. Jisung would always be beautiful.

One morning on a spring day, the queen consulted her enchanted mirror once more.

“Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who in this land is fairest of all?”

The mirror replied: “You, my queen, are fair; it is true, But the young Prince is a thousand times fairer than you.”

The queen was enraged. Whenever she saw Jisung, her stomach rolled and she thought, That boy has got to go. She couldn't sleep, knowing that burden of a boy still walked the castle halls. It was torture.

Then, as if by magic, Queen Grimhilde knew what she had to do.

The queen summoned the best hunter in the kingdom to the throne room the very next morning. “I have a slight. . . pest problem,” she told him. “You will be paid handsomely in return for the swift execution of Han Jisung.”

The hunter’s eyes widened. “I'm sorry, Your Majesty?” he asked, sounding confused. “You want me to kill the prince? Your stepson?”

“That is correct,” the queen said with a wicked grin. “The prince has angered me, you see. I need him gone. If you will handle this problem, your payment will be triple the amount you made last year in gold.”

The hunter gulped. It was not as if he didn't need the money. His wife was expecting a child. But still, what the queen was asking for. . . “What if I say no?”

“Then there is a hanging in your future,” the queen replied.

“I—oh, God—I'll do it.”

“Of course you will,” said the queen with a smile laced with evil. She stood and crossed the room. She opened a small drawer and pulled out an ornate wooden box, which she held out to the hunter. “Tomorrow morning,” the queen said, “Prince Jisung will go on an excursion outside the castle walls. You will follow him. As soon as he is alone, you will kill him. As proof that the job is indeed done, you will bring me Prince Jisung's heart in this box.”

“I—of course, Your Majesty.”

“I trust you will do your job,” the queen said. “Do not disappoint me.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The hunter left the throne room, trembling slightly. He couldn’t. . . No. He had to do this. His wife needed him. His unborn child needed him. He would do it for them.

He would murder Han Jisung.

Chapter Text

Jisung was excited.

Today would be his first trip outside the castle since. . . he didn't even know when. The queen had told him that he would be permitted to visit the village the previous afternoon, which had instantly lifted his spirits. He loved the village; it gave him plenty of people to talk to and things to see and do. Additionally, just beyond the village were dozens of paths through the vast and beautiful forest along which he could walk. It was his favorite place in the entire world.

Jisung dug through his drawers in search of the nicest clothes he owned—the queen hadn't been able to throw out all of his things; Jisung was sneakier than he looked and had also managed to save some of his favorite books, a large portion of which were Shakespeare. Finally he found what he was looking for: his only remaining pair of snug black pants and a loose, white cotton shirt, which he wore with his usual black boots. It wasn't much, but the clothes made Jisung feel like he used to before his father disappeared. He missed that feeling and made it his mission to cling to it every day, the same way he clung to the promise he'd made to his mother.

Jisung practically flew down the stairs and into the foyer, where Queen Grimhilde was waiting for him. She looked disgusted to see him, as usual.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Jisung said politely.

“Where did you get those clothes?” she demanded. “I—never mind. It does not  matter.” She stalked away, muttering to herself. Jisung chose to ignore her.

He waved goodbye to the servant dusting the room and merrily went on his way. As soon as he was off castle grounds, it was roughly a five-minute walk to the village. Although he had no money of his own with which to buy things, Jisung loved going to as many shops in a day as he possibly could whenever he visited the village. His first stop would be to the bookstore. He loved it there—it was a building full of stories, waiting to be read and cherished. Then he'd visit the market. It always interested him to see what people were selling. And of course there were the walking paths, some of which he was already approaching—

“Jisung? Han Jisung?” an incredulous voice asked. “Is that you?”

Jisung looked around for the speaker and found a (rather good-looking) boy, probably around his age, dressed in fine clothing and coming from one of the nearby paths.

“I'm sorry,” Jisung said, “I—”

“Don't remember me,” the handsome stranger said with a smile. It was a nice smile. “I don't blame you. It's been years. I'm Lee Minho. We met at. . .” He trailed off.

Jisung looked him in the eyes. Suddenly, his face seemed familiar. Underneath the boy’s angular features, Jisung recognized a very young boy. “I remember,” he said. “My mother's funeral.”

“Yes.” Minho—Prince Minho, Jisung corrected himself—looked him in the eyes. “You have my deepest condolences. I can't imagine losing both parents in such a short amount of time. . . I'm sorry.”

Jisung wasn't quite sure how to respond. Prince Minho noticed instantly. “So, Prince Jisung,” he asked, “where are you going today?”

“J-just Jisung,” he replied instantly. “I—I'm just Jisung.”

“Okay, just Jisung, then in that case, I'm just Minho.”

“Okay.”

The two were silent for a moment, just staring at each other. Jisung could feel his face growing warm under Minho’s gaze. He wasn't sure what to say, so he just looked away.

“Jisung?” Minho asked. “You still haven't told me where we're going today.”

“We?”

Minho's eyes widened slightly. “Only if you want to, of course,” he amended quickly. “I'm supposed to meet with Queen Grimhilde this afternoon, but I've got plenty of time until then.”

Jisung's head was spinning. Normally he made these trips alone, and had always been perfectly happy to do so. Never before had anyone ever asked to join him.

“I'll take your silence as a no, then?” Minho looked disappointed.

“No, I—yes,” Jisung stammered. “I—I don't mind having some company.”

“Perfect,” Minho said, snaking his arm through Jisung's. “Where are we going?”

“I, um, I was going to the village.”

“Okay.”

They walked together in silence for a minute or two before Minho broke the silence.

“You're stiff as a board, Jisung,” he commented. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Jisung replied as evenly as possible. He forced himself to relax. I'm so bad at interacting with people, Jisung thought.

Minho let go of Jisung's arm when they reached the village, but he didn't leave his side. “Where to now?” he asked.

“I was planning on visiting the bookstore,” Jisung said.

“Alright.” Minho gestured for Jisung to lead the way. The pair wove their way through the crowded streets until they reached the quaint little building with a sign above the door reading: Novelties Bookstore.

Not much had changed since Jisung had last been there. The walls were still lined with shelves packed with as many books as could possibly fit onto them. They were organized by genre, allowing customers to easily find anything they could possibly want to read. Throughout the small but well-used space were plenty of comfortable chairs in which to curl up with a good book. The clerk behind the desk—an old man with white hair and a love of knowledge—smiled and gave the two a friendly wave. The whole place smelled like paper. “I love it here,” Jisung said.

“I can understand why,” Minho replied. The two of them wandered towards the shelves. Jisung began his search in the Fantasy section while Minho began his with the Classics. Jisung wasn't having much luck finding something interesting when Minho pulled a book off the shelf and handed it to him, asking, “Have you read this one?”

It was a leatherbound copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. “It may or may not be one of my favorites,” Jisung replied with a smile.

“Mine, too,” Minho said, grinning an impossibly wide grin.

“I have a copy of my own; it was a birthday gift from my father,” Jisung said proudly. “I was eleven. I fell absolutely in love with it.”

“I like it,” Minho said, “but I've always preferred Romeo and Juliet.”

“Oh my God, yes,” Jisung said. "Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene. . .”

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” Minho said with a wink.

Jisung laughed. Loudly. Everyone looked.

“Oh my God,” Jisung whispered, his face warm with embarrassment. Minho was barely holding back laughter himself. “Let’s—let’s go,” Jisung said quietly.

Are you sure?” Minho asked. “That was pretty fun, if you ask me.”

“No, God, that was not fun. Let’s get out of here before I embarrass myself any further.”

Jisung grabbed Minho’s hand and pulled him out of the store. He didn’t say a word, nor did he let go of Minho’s hand, until the two of them reached the market.

“Sorry about that,” they both said at the same time.

Jisung blinked. “Sorry,” he said. “I just—that was embarrassing. I. . . don’t get out much.”

“Clearly,” Minho said with a smirk. Jisung could’ve died. “So did you plan on coming here, or was this just the best escape route you could come up with?”

“I planned this,” Jisung said indignantly. “I always come here when I’m in the village.”

“I see,” Minho said. “Well then, what now?”

Jisung thought for a moment. “I don’t really ever do anything,” he said. “I normally just. . . wander.”

Minho smiled; it was a genuine one this time, one that made Jisung smile too. “Alright, then,” Minho said. “We wander.”

For hours, they did exactly that. They explored the market together, never leaving each other’s sides. The two of them wandered through every shop they came across, Jisung making sure to compliment each of the shop’s owners on the hard work they did day in and day out. They talked about nothing and everything. Jisung was enthralled to have someone to talk to. Minho was happy to listen. Jisung never ran out of things to say.

Eventually, they both got hungry. Walking past a shop selling sandwiches and smelling the delicious scent of meats and cheeses waft out the front door didn’t help, either. Minho offered to buy Jisung something to eat, since he had neglected to bring something of his own.

“No, no,” Jisung quickly declined. “I’ll eat when I go back.”

“I insist,” Minho said. “Have you eaten anything yet today?”

Jisung hesitated. “No,” he admitted.

“Then that settles it.”

Minho swiftly walked into the sandwich shop, leaving Jisung with no choice but to follow. Minho glanced at him as he entered the store. He smiled at the cook as he paid for two sandwiches and handed one in a bag to Jisung.

“Thanks,” Jisung said. Then he noticed something. Or rather, the lack of something. Noise. He and Minho were the only ones in the shop. “Minho,” he asked, “what time were you supposed to meet with my stepmother?”

“Four,” he replied. “Why?”

“Well, it’s not like we’ve been keeping track of time,” Jisung replied. He turned to the cook. “Excuse me, do you have the time?”

“It’s three fifty-six,” the cook said.

“Shit,” Minho said under his breath. “I need to leave. I’m so sorry, Jisung. Are you going back, too?”

“I will soon,” Jisung said. “It won’t be good for anyone involved if I return with you. Grimhilde is. . . rather unfriendly towards me. And I’m the one who’s sorry. You’re going to be late because of me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Minho said. “Queen Grimhilde doesn’t have many trade partners. As of now, she needs me more than I need her. It’ll be fine.”

Then Minho did something very unexpected. He reached forward and pulled Jisung into a tight, warm hug. “I hope we will see each other again soon,” Minho whispered into his ear. He was stunned. Me, too, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t form the words. Sensing discomfort, Minho pulled away. “Sorry,” he said. “Goodbye, Jisung.” Minho turned and left the shop.

Jisung’s mind was reeling. He needed to clear his head. The best way to do that would be to take a long walk along one of the paths. He’d hoped he would have gotten to do so with Minho, but it was probably better this way. He left the shop and walked to the start of the nearest path, completely forgetting about the food Minho had bought for him. He set off along the trail, hoping the fresh air would clear the fog in his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

The hunter was watching closely.

Prince Jisung hadn’t left his sight all day. Of course, the prince himself didn’t know he was there. It was rather unexpected when the other young man joined the prince, but it was no matter. The hunter had a job to do.

Three times he nearly lost the prince as he and his companion strolled aimlessly through the market. He didn’t understand what they were doing. There was nothing special about the place. Finally, the young man accompanying him left. The prince was alone at long last. The hunter followed him as he entered the forest via one of the walking trails. He crept silently behind, waiting for the perfect moment. Finally, the prince came to a stop near the base of a large tree. The hunter couldn’t make out what he was doing, but he didn’t care. This was his chance. He pulled his knife out of his sheath and surged forward, tackling the boy. Jisung screamed. He landed on his back in the dirt, struggling beneath the hunter. The hunter pushed the knife closer and closer to the Prince’s neck. There were tears pooling in the prince’s eyes. “Please,” he whimpered. The hunter raised his knife—

And threw it on the ground. He stood, shakily. Prince Jisung remained sitting on the ground, a terrified expression on his face. “W-what’s going—”

“It was the queen,” the hunter said—shouted, really. “She hates you. She ordered me to kill you.” He looked the prince in the eyes. “You have to leave. Now. She’ll kill you. You can’t ever come back.” The prince didn’t move. “Go!” the hunter shouted.

The prince stood and ran. “Don’t follow the trails!” the hunter yelled as Prince Jisung ran. “It doesn’t matter where you go, as long as you never return!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jisung ran. He ran more than he had ever ran in his entire life. He wasn’t paying any attention to where he was going. If what the hunter said was true, it didn’t matter where he was going.

Jisung could run. Or he could die.

He didn’t stop until long after the sun had set. He was exhausted, but he didn’t care. He was alive. He was alive, and he was in the middle of the forest, completely alone.

He was lost.

Chapter Text

Queen Grimhilde was pleased. Pleased with herself and pleased with the work of the hunter. It had been a week since anyone had seen or heard from the prince. There had been a small closed-casket funeral—Grimhilde didn’t want to spend too much money on the boy, after all. In fact, the body wasn’t even that of the prince. Since the hunter had disposed of the body for her, and she had to bury something, she decided it would be best to bury one of the prisoners who had been sentenced to die. Prince Jisung’s death was officially stated to the public as an accidental death that the hunter had the misfortune of witnessing. Unfortunately, despite the hunter’s best efforts, he had not been able to save the prince from the bear that had brutally mauled him. A group of villagers stopped by to pay their respects. It was not a large group; thanks to Grimhilde, Jisung had grown up away from the public eye and was rarely ever mentioned by the Queen or any of her staff. For some reason, Prince Lee Minho of the neighboring kingdom had come to pay his respects, which Grimhilde didn’t understand. Quite frankly, she didn’t understand why anyone had wanted to come.

Queen Grimhilde had never been happier than the moment the hunter brought back the box containing Prince Jisung’s heart. The hunter’s expression was stony and he looked white as a sheet as he walked into the throne room bearing the cursed box. He held it out to her mechanically. He steeled his nerves and prayed that he could lie well enough to convince the queen that her stepson truly was dead.

“The prince’s heart,” he said quietly. “The—the deed is done.”

The queen smiled wickedly and took the box from him. “Perfect,” she said. She crossed the room to a large jar filled with a yellow liquid and screwed off the lid. Then, much to the hunter’s horror, the queen removed the heart, which was still dripping blood onto the tile floor of the throne room, from the box and placing it into the jar. The smell was awful—like death and a chemical stench that was unfamiliar to the hunter but would be burned into his mind until his final breath. The queen placed the lid back onto the jar and nodded in satisfaction. She turned to face the hunter.

“Good work,” she said as if nothing had happened. Her hands were covered in blood, and the front of her gown was smeared with splotches of dark red. “Expect your payment to arrive within a fortnight. You are dismissed.”

The hunter bowed stiffly and left. With luck, he thought, I will never do that woman’s dirty work again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jisung had been wandering through the forest for days. He’d lost track of time after the third day. He had absolutely no idea where he was, nor did he know where he could go. He just kept walking deeper and deeper into the woods. He had no way to defend himself, so he could only pray that anything living in the woods big enough to do him harm—wolves, bears; hell, even the people—would steer clear. When he grew too tired to walk (which was happening more and more often due to the lack of proper food and water), he found a well-hidden spot to rest or sleep.

He tried not to sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was the knife coming down, inching closer to his jugular.

Instead he walked. He found a shallow, fast-moving stream and did his best to follow it, not only to give him a sense of direction but also so that he could have a supply of semi-fresh water. Originally Jisung had hoped that there would be fish in the water so he’d have something substantial to eat, but the water was not deep enough for the fish to survive. And even if it was, Jisung thought miserably, how would I catch them? He resorted to walking in the opposite direction of the stream’s current; he knew that water only flowed into the kingdom and never out.

Food was harder to find. One day—was it the fifth day? the sixth? Jisung had no clue—he happened upon an apple tree. He shouted in excitement and rushed over to the tree, picking as many apples as he could. He ate four apples right away, but they did next to nothing to stave off his hunger. He couldn’t take very many more; he was too weak to carry a heavy load and had nothing with which to carry them other than his arms, so he settled with taking four more, carrying two in each hand.

Jisung walked on into the night, the small bit of food having given him a fraction of his energy back. Hours passed, and his energy began to dwindle once more. He considered finding a place to stop and rest.

Then he heard something that made his blood run cold.

Branches snapping. Leaves crunching. Coming from three different directions. Jisung froze. He turned around ever so slowly, trying to make as little noise as physics would allow. Then he saw them. Multiple pairs of yellow eyes glinting in the moonlight, trained on him.

Wolves.

Jisung ran. He had no other choice. His blood was pounding in his ears. He knew he couldn’t keep this up for long—he hadn’t the energy. Nevertheless, he ran as fast as he possibly could. He could hear the wolves close behind him. Jisung ran into a small clearing at the opposite end of which was a cottage. In blind fear, he ran as fast as he could toward it, praying the door was unlocked. It was. He threw the door open and ran inside, slamming the door shut behind him. He sank to the ground with his back pressed against the door. He could hear the wolves growling outside. After what felt like hours, they finally left.

Jisung stood, shakily. He did his best to walk, but he didn’t make it far. After a few steps, the exhaustion caught up with him and he collapsed to the cottage floor.

Chapter Text

Today was shaping up to be a long day.

Chan and the rest of his crew had left the cottage early that morning due to Woojin’s constant insisting that “We’re getting close, I can feel it! We can’t have that much digging to do.” Chan had a hard time saying no to Woojin (or anyone else, for that matter; they’d all been friends for so long that they were more like family), so the seven of them had risen before the sun and set out for the mine in the hopes that today would be the day that they would find what they were looking for: precious gems and metals. Whatever they found, they sold to the merchants and noblemen of the kingdom that was a few days’ walk away from their home in the forest. Recently, however, their digging had turned up nothing. It was as if everything worth selling had suddenly disappeared. Chan wasn’t worried—at least, not yet. There were still a few mines in the area they hadn’t checked yet, including the one they were working in today.

“It’s too early for this,” Felix groaned, dragging his pickaxe as he tried to locate a spot to start digging. They’d just got done eating lunch and were about to commence their dig once more. Chan rolled his eyes. “Felix, it’s noon,” he said. “We’ve already been digging for four hours.”

“And it’s dig or starve,” Changbin added. “The way you eat, you’d better start digging.”

“Hey!” Felix complained indignantly.

Jeongin snickered. “Oh, come on, Felix,” the boy said with a grin, “you know he’s right.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Felix said.

The team continued to dig. Their work yielded poor results. They dug for hours, finding little more than a few gold nuggets, if you could even call them that—they weren’t much bigger than peas. Maybe I do need to start worrying, Chan thought.

From deeper within the mine, he heard one of his team shout. Hyunjin. Soon after, he heard Seungmin’s and Woojin’s voices join Hyunjin’s. “Ah, shit,” Chan muttered. He prayed that no one was hurt as he ran towards the shouting. That was a likely scenario—the boys had a habit of acting like. . . children, for lack of a better word. Chan rounded the corner—

And found Hyunjin holding a chunk of gold the size of his head. He grinned triumphantly. “Digging finally paid off!” he said.

“We were about ready to give up,” Seungmin said, smiling just as proudly as Hyunjin. “But then he found that. I bet there’s more, too. This whole area looks like it could have something good.”

Woojin looked smug. “I knew we’d find something today,” he said.

“Yes, yes, you’re a genius, we know,” Chan said with a smile. Then, raising his voice, he shouted, “Felix, Jeongin, Changbin, get in here! Come see what Hyunjin found!”

The three of them walked into the small chamber in which the gold had been found. Hyunjin held up the prize proudly.

Changbin’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his skull. “Holy shit,” he said. “That thing is massive.”

“Where the hell did you find that beauty?” Felix asked in amazement. Hyunjin pointed to the area where he’d been digging. He couldn’t stop smiling.

For a moment, the seven of them just stood there, staring at the gold in Hyunjin’s hands. Jeongin was the one to break the silence. “Are we gonna keep digging, or what?” he asked.

“He’s right,” Chan said. “Seungmin, you think there’s more here?”

Seungmin nodded. “We probably won’t find anything else that big, but I’m pretty confident that there’s more to be found.”

“Alright, then,” Chan said with a smile, “let’s get to it!”

They all shouted happily and got to work. To Chan’s surprise (and his immense relief), they began to find more treasures buried within the mine. The seven of them worked on into the night, too ecstatic to stop; they lit their oil lamps when the sky grew dark and kept digging. In all honesty, Chan would’ve been happy to work through the night if it meant that his family would be okay. He only stopped when Jeongin tapped him on the shoulder.

Chan turned to face him and noticed how tired the boy looked. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” Jeongin said. “It’s just getting pretty late. No one else wanted to say anything. Too excited about the gold to stop.”

Chan looked around the room. Jeongin was right. While the room was still filled with more energy than any of them had had in the past week, everyone had begun to slow down. “Okay, guys,” he called out. “Let’s call it a day.”

“Nice,” Changbin cheered. Everyone stopped digging and gathered everything they’d dug up that afternoon. Once all of the precious metals had been collected, they had enough to fill one wheelbarrow.

Seungmin had a massive smile on his face. “I knew we’d find something in there,” he said as they seven of them left the cave. “I knew it.”

“Good work,” Chan said. “Everyone did great today.”

“Especially me,” Hyunjin said.

“Yeah,” Felix chimed in, “that gold you found’ll set us up for a long time.” Woojin, Changbin, and Jeongin chorused in agreement. “That was such a good find,” Woojin said.

“We can work on getting it ready to be sold tomorrow,” Chan said. “For now let’s just get home. It’s late.”

“And I’m starving,” Felix said.

“Then the sooner we get home, the better.”

They had about a thirty minute walk to get back to the cottage, cutting through dense forest and keeping close to a nearby river for direction. Chan led the way, holding up his oil lamp to light the path for his family. Seungmin, who’d had the misfortune of drawing the shortest straw, was delegated the task of pushing the wheelbarrow home. Hyunjin and Jeongin walked next to him, the three of them chattering on about. . . who knows what. Felix and Changbin walked in front of them silently, and Woojin walked with Chan. Neither of them spoke until they passed the large oak tree signalling that they were nearly back to the cottage.

“We had a great day today,” Woojin said.

“Definitely,” Chan agreed. “I’m glad we finally found something. I was beginning to worry.”

“About what?”

“Um. . . everything?”

“Chan,” Woojin said, “we would’ve been fine. We all had full faith that we’d find something before it got bad.”

“But what if we didn’t?” Chan countered. “What if we lost everything? I can’t—we have to stick together. I can’t lose you guys.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” Woojin said gently. “Even if things did get bad, you know any of us would fight tooth and nail before we’d split up. We’re a family.”

“Yeah,” Chan mused. “Family.”

Behind them, Felix let out a whoop. Chan looked up, not realizing that he’d been looking down. “Huh,” he said. “We’re home.”

They’d just reached the clearing. A few hundred yards away was the cottage. Home sweet home. From a distance, everything appeared exactly as it normally did. However, as they got closer, Chan couldn't help feeling that something was wrong.

“Hang on a minute,” he called out to Jeongin, who had rushed up to the front of the group.

Jeongin turned around. “What’s—”

Hyunjin gasped. “Guys,” he said quietly, pointing towards the line of trees at the opposite end of the clearing. “Look.”

Chan directed his gaze towards where Hyunjin was pointing. Lurking in the trees was a wolf. He could only see one, but Chan had lived in the area long enough to know that it wasn’t alone. Wolves travel in packs.

“It’ll be okay, guys,” he whispered. “They’ll leave eventually. I don’t know why they’re here, but they won’t stay forever. Let’s just get inside.”

As quietly as possible, they crept towards the door. Seungmin delicately placed the wheelbarrow outside the cottage in front of a window, where they could keep an eye on it. Chan made sure everyone got inside before he slipped through the door and closed it behind him, locking it shut.

“Okay,” he breathed, still facing the door. “Now we can—”

“No we can’t,” Changbin deadpanned.

“What are you—” Chan turned around. “Oh.”

On the floor of their living room, lying in a crumpled heap, was a boy. He looked disheveled, as if he’d been wandering aimlessly through the woods. Even in sleep, the kid’s face was contorted in fear. Occasionally travellers stumbled on their cottage looking for directions, but this boy didn’t look like a traveller. There was something. . . unusual about him.

“Guess we know what the wolves were after,” Jeongin joked.

“Check to see if anything’s been stolen,” Woojin instructed the younger boys, shooting a glare in Jeongin’s direction. No one moved. Chan suspected they shared the same suspicions he did. He wondered what Woojin was thinking.

“Woojin,” Chan protested. “I don’t think he’s a thief. Look at him.”

“He’s all alone,” Changbin said. “He probably got lost out here.”

Woojin sighed. “Okay, fine. But if he’s not a thief, then what is he doing here?”

“We can figure that out in the morning,” Chan said. “Even if he was going to steal anything, he clearly didn’t have the energy for it.” He looked at Seungmin. “Give me a hand?” he asked.

Seungmin crossed the room. “What are we doing?” he asked.

“Moving him,” Chan replied. “We can’t leave him here on the floor. You take his feet, I’ll take his shoulders.”

Together they gently lifted the unconscious stranger, carried him over to the couch, and carefully set him down. The boy curled into the fetal position as soon as they let him go. God, what happened to him? Chan wondered.

“You’re just gonna leave him there?” Woojin asked. “What if—“

“I get why you’re suspicious,” Chan interrupted. “He’s a stranger in our house and God knows what his intentions are. But I really don’t think he’s dangerous. Look at him, Woojin. He’s a kid. I’m gonna stay out here tonight, just in case, but. . . I just don’t think he’s going to do anything.”

Woojin was silent for a moment. “Fine,” he said eventually. “But if you get murdered, that’s your problem.”

“I’ll be sure to dance on your grave,” Jeongin added helpfully.

“Thanks,” Chan deadpanned. Hyunjin and Felix snickered.

“We should get some sleep,” Woojin said. As soon as he said it, Chan realized how bone tired he was. A glance around the room told him everyone else felt the same way. “Like I said, I’ll stay down here and keep an eye on the kid,” he told the group.

“You sure you’ll be fine on your own?” Changbin asked.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle one kid.”

“One possible murderer,” Hyunjin corrected.

“Okay, sure, I can handle one possible murderer,” Chan said with a laugh. “Go, guys. I’ll be fine.”

They made their way towards their respective bedrooms; Chan pulled a blanket from the cabinet and sat in the comfortable rocking chair next to the window that he’d always loved. He looked at the boy asleep on the couch. He looked slightly more relaxed than before, but there was still a worried expression on his face, even in sleep. “What happened to you?” Chan murmured. As if in answer, the boy whimpered in his sleep. Chan started to compile a list of questions for the boy in his head. What happened to you? Why are you here? Where did you come from? What’s your name?

Finally, when Chan had thought of everything he could possibly think of to ask the boy, he slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Jisung woke to seven pairs of eyes staring at him.

Needless to say, he was more than a little shocked. He leapt up into a sitting position with wide eyes. “What—? Who—? Whe—”

“Kid,” one of them said. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Jisung’s heart was racing. “I—I’m sorry for breaking into your house,” he said. “I’ll leave. It’s just—the wolves—they were after me, so I—”

“So you came here,” the man finished. The rest of them stayed silent, choosing to look at Jisung rather than speak to him.

“I’ll leave,” Jisung repeated. “I apologize for intruding.”

“You don’t have to leave,” the man said.

“But I—”

“Clearly you’ve been through a lot,” one of the others said. “Just let us help.”

“I. . .” Jisung was at a loss of words. “Okay.”

The first one to speak stuck out a hand to Jisung, who allowed himself to be pulled upright and guided into the kitchen. Everyone sat around the table, one of the others wandering off to find an extra chair for Jisung. “Okay, guys,” the man said to the rest of the group once they had all been seated, “Introductions.” He turned to Jisung. “I’m Chan,” he said.

The rest of them introduced themselves one by one. Woojin. Changbin. Felix. Seungmin. Hyunjin. Jeongin. Jisung’s head was spinning.

“And you are. . ?” Changbin asked.

“R-right,” Jisung said. “I’m Jisung. Han Jisung.”

“What?” Woojin said. “That can’t be true. You—Han Jisung is dead. Queen Grimhilde announced the death of the prince five days ago.”

“Oh, come on, Woojin,” Felix said. “We all know Queen Grimhilde is a lying snake.”

This caught Jisung’s attention. “What do you mean?”

“Obviously if you’re here, you’re not dead,” Felix replied.

“How did you get here, anyway?” Seungmin asked.

“It’s. . .” Jisung faltered. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got time,” Chan said.

“We do?” Jeongin asked. “But what about—”

“We can worry about the gold another time,” Chan told him. “Right now, I have the feeling something bigger is going on here.” He turned back to Jisung. “Whatever happened, you can tell us,” he said. “You kind of owe us an explanation anyway.”

Jisung hesitated. “Okay,” he said. He told them about everything—how Grimhilde had come into his life; the disappearance of his father (which they probably knew about—it made headlines when it happened); the way Grimhilde acted towards him, as if she were jealous; how she’d tried to have him killed. He explained how the hunter had tried to plunge a knife into his throat, but stopped at the last minute, telling Jisung to run and never return. He told them how he’d wandered through the forest for days on end. He told them how the wolves came after him the previous night, how he’d ran for his life. “So that’s how I ended up here,” he finished. “I’m sorry.”

The group was silent for a while, staring at Jisung with an expression that resembled something like awe. Finally, Hyunjin broke the silence. “Christ,” he said. “Everyone knows the Queen is a bitch, but I didn’t think she’d sink so low as to try and murder her own stepchild.”

“I’m not surprised,” Changbin said. “Have you seen the woman? Her face has ‘domestic homicide’ written all over it. No offence, Prince Jisung.”

“N-none taken,” Jisung replied, a little shocked. “But please don't call me that. No one does. I’m just Jisung.”

“Alright then, just Jisung,” Chan said, invoking a strange pang in Jisung’s chest as he remembered the last person who’d called him that. Chan noticed instantly. “Everything okay?” he asked. He looked concerned.

“Yes,” Jisung said. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” Chan said with a smile, “because it’s breakfast time. Woojin’s in charge of cooking; he’s the best.”

The compliment elicited a smile from Woojin, who had yet to react to Jisung’s story. “It’s true,” he admitted proudly. “These idiots can barely handle boiling water.”

“That’s an accurate assessment,” Seungmin said matter-of-factly.

Woojin stood and crossed the room to the pantry and started pulling out ingredients while Changbin removed a frying pan from the cupboard. Jeongin suddenly burst through the front door—Jisung’s mind had been traveling in so many different directions that he hadn’t even noticed that the boy had left in the first place—carrying a wicker basket. “Got the eggs,” he announced. He brought the basket to Woojin, who smiled appreciatively.

“Thanks, Jeongin,” Woojin said. Jeongin left the kitchen and joined Seungmin and Changbin in the living room as there was nothing for any of them to do. Woojin cracked several eggs into the now-sizzling frying pan and asked in a loud voice, “Hyunjin, Chan, can you guys chop some onions and peppers?”

“On it,” Hyunjin said, joining Woojin at the counter and grabbing the pepper from the pantry seconds before Chan could. Chan heaved a massive sigh, muttering something about how onions made him cry.

Jisung remained seated, stiff as a board. Felix stood from his seat at the table and moved so he was sitting next to him. “So,” he asked in an impossibly deep voice, “what’s up?”

Jisung blinked. “I have no idea,” he said honestly. “I’m kind of in awe at the fact that I’m still alive.”

“Alive is good,” Felix agreed. “They had a funeral for you, you know.”

“I figured that when Woojin said Grimhilde told everyone I was dead.”

Felix laughed. “You seem pretty calm about it,” he said.

“I don’t have a lot of other options,” Jisung replied. “I can’t go back without Grimhilde trying to kill me, so what does it matter if people think I’m dead? That was what she wanted. Me, dead.”

“Jesus,” Felix said, shaking his head. “If I were in your shoes, these guys’d have to lock me up to keep me from going back.” He hesitated. “You’re really okay with leaving behind everything you knew?”

Jisung nodded. “I didn’t have a lot to leave behind,” he said. “Sure, there were a few people I was acquainted with who I enjoyed talking to, but I didn’t have anyone I was very close to. Besides,” Jisung added, “none of you seem like the type to sell me out to the Queen.”

Felix smiled and nodded. “Hey, idiots,” Woojin said before he could reply, looking into the living room, “get out here and help set the table.”

Changbin, Seungmin, and Jeongin all filed into the living room. Changbin took plates from a cupboard and handed them to Woojin, who loaded them with eggs. Jeongin got silverware from a drawer and set a handful of forks onto the table. Seungmin filled eight glasses with water and placed them onto the table. Woojin, Chan, Changbin, and Hyunjin tag-teamed carrying the plates to the table, which was a treacherous task in a tiny room with eight people in it.

“Fucking move,” Changbin said to Jeongin, who took pleasure in annoying the older boy as he juggled plates of food. Changbin masterfully kicked Jeongin in the shin while still balancing the plates in his hands. Jeongin yelped and sat down, allowing Changbin to take his place at the table after setting down the steaming plates of food.

Chan handed Jisung a plate and took the empty seat next to him. Until that moment, Jisung hadn’t realized how intensely hungry he was. He inhaled his food—Chan was right; Woojin was an excellent cook. He cleaned his plate in five minutes flat.

“Did you even taste it?” Hyunjin joked. “You ate like you haven’t eaten in days.”

“You idiot, he probably hasn’t,” Seungmin interjected.

“Sorry,” Jisung said sheepishly. “Your food was delicious, Woojin.”

“Thank you,” Woojin said.

Jisung waited patiently for the rest of them to finish their meal. He sat in silence, listening intently to the table conversation but never knowing whether it was his place to interject. He didn't think the others noticed his lack of communication until Changbin looked at him pointedly and said, “You know you're allowed to speak, right?”

“Oh, um,” Jisung mumbled, face red, “yeah. I guess. I'm really just. . . taking everything in.”

“Of course,” Seungmin said. “But don't feel unwelcome talking to us. We were all strangers to each other once, but now we're close as family.”

Jisung nodded. That the group of seven was like a family was obvious. Jisung envied their closeness. He wished he had something like it.

At that point, everyone had finished the meal. Woojin stood and began clearing the table. The rest of the group left the kitchen. Woojin began doing the dishes. Feeling the need to be useful, Jisung asked, “Is there anything I can help you with, Woojin?”

He stopped and turned around so that he was facing Jisung. He looked slightly confused at Jisung's offer. “No,” he said finally. “But thanks for offering. Those hooligans usually prefer to just eat the food.”

“You can come with me, though, Jisung,” Chan said from the entrance to the kitchen.

“Okay.”

Jisung followed Chan outside, where everyone else was sorting out the shining contents of a wheelbarrow. From it, Hyunjin took a massive hunk of sparkling metal. “Is that—?” Jisung asked.

“Yep,” Chan said. “Gold.”

“Found this baby last night,” Hyunjin said proudly, showing it off like a trophy.

“And lots of other good stuff,” Jeongin said enthusiastically.

“We're miners,” Changbin explained.

“We dig up sparkly rocks and sell them to rich people for a living,” Felix added.

“Way to sum it up,” Seungmin deadpanned. Felix picked up a small stone and threw it at Seungmin, nailing him right in between the eyes. “You son of a bitch, Felix—”

“Stop right there,” Chan said, seconds before Seungmin could launch a ruby the size of his fist back at Felix. “Quit acting like kids.”

Jisung was barely suppressing laughter. Chan noticed. “Yep,” he said. “You'll fit right in. Let me show you what we're doing.”

He showed Jisung how to sort the precious gems and metals by color, organizing them in piles on the ground. There was a lot to go through; sorting the gems into piles of white, blue, green, and red took an hour. Changbin, Felix, Jeongin, and Jisung handled the gems while Seungmin, Chan, and Hyunjin sorted the metals; Woojin joined the latter group after the first twenty minutes of work.

After the sorting was done, they took the gems to the nearby river to clean them. Their goal was to scrub the jewels until not a speck of dirt remained. This took a surprising amount of time—the gems were more caked with dirt than they appeared. The sun was setting by the time they were finally finished, and they all took a step back to admire their work. At their feet, where there once was a dusty clump of what looked like rocks now lay an impressive pile of jewels of every kind imaginable.

“Looks great, guys,” Chan said, walking over to them.

“Think we’ll be able to take it into the village tomorrow?” Changbin asked.

“Probably,” Chan said.

“Nice,” replied Changbin.

“Not all of us’ll be able to go, though,” Chan said, glancing at Jisung, who turned red. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s not your fault,” Chan said quickly. “You can’t go back there without something bad happening; that’s obvious. Besides, there’s barely room enough for all of us in the cart as it is.” He redirected his attention to Changbin. “You and Woojin should be able to handle it, right?” he asked. Changbin nodded. “Good, because you’ll also need to get some groceries,” Chan told him. “We’re running low on. . . pretty much everything.”

Changbin groaned. “Hey, no complaining,” Jeongin said. “At least you guys get to go.”

“Oh, come on, Jeongin, you know you’ll have way more fun here with me,” Chan said, ruffling the boy’s hair as if he were a small child. “Stop that,” Jeongin complained. Felix and Changbin laughed.

Woojin came over then, carrying a large crate that was compartmentalized on the inside. Seungmin and Hyunjin followed, each carrying large armfuls of the gold they’d been tasked with cleaning. “Hey, guys,” Hyunjin said as the three of them approached.

“I hate to break it to you, Hyunjin,” Woojin said, “but there’s no way that huge bit of gold is gonna fit in here. You’re gonna have to break it up.”

Hyunjin looked disappointed. “I’ll do it,” Seungmin said enthusiastically. “Put it down. I’ll be right back.”

Hyunjin did as he was told, dropping the large chunk of gold onto the ground as Seungmin sprinted away. He returned quickly, wielding a pickaxe. He swung the tool and hit the gold, seemingly as hard as he could. It split in half.

“I think my heart just broke a little,” Hyunjin said, feigning a sob. Seungmin laughed and hit the gold a few more times until it was broken into small enough pieces that it would fit into the crate. Together, the eight of them put the jewels and the gold into the box, using a separate compartment for each different thing they’d collected. When it was full, Chan closed it and clicked the heavy padlock on the lid shut. He tried to lift the crate to no avail.

“Christ, this thing is heavy,” he said. He looked at Felix. “Give me a hand?” he asked.

“Why me?” Felix whined as he took the handle at one end of the crate and Chan took the other.

“You have the smallest brain,” Changbin told him.

“Wow, okay, fuck you too.”

Jisung and Jeongin laughed. The group followed Felix and Chan back to the cottage. Once they were inside, they put the crate right next to the door. It was decided shortly thereafter that Woojin would accompany Changbin to the village in the morning. “If it’s just us, there’s less a chance of someone fucking things up,” Woojin explained, eyeing Hyunjin and Seungmin, both of whom had been more than eager to tag along.

“Yeah, we get it, you’re responsible,” Hyunjin said.

“Someone has to be.”

This earned a chorus of laughter from everyone, including Jisung. The rest of the evening was spent jovially—Woojin (with the help of Chan) made sandwiches for dinner, and they passed the time after the meal playing cards, laughing loudly and enjoying each other’s company. A glance at the clock on the wall told Jisung it was nearly midnight when the game was finished.

“It just so happens that we have an extra bed,” Chan said to Jisung as everyone stood up from the kitchen table after the cards had been put away. “We normally leave one bed empty in case of travellers, but you can have it. Come on, I’ll show you where it is.”

Jisung followed Chan into a cozy-looking bedroom. There wasn’t much inside—a dresser, a bed, and a nightstand with a lamp on it were the only things occupying the space—but Jisung thought it was perfect.

“Thank you,” Jisung said. “I—thank you. For letting me stay.”

“Of course,” Chan said with a smile. “Good night, Jisung.”

“Good night.”

For the first time in a long time, Jisung was happy. For the first time, he was home.

~~~~~~~~~~

For weeks, Queen Grimhilde passed the time in perfect pleasure.

She even forgot to check her magic Mirror—without Jisung around anymore, she had no need to be reminded of how beautiful she was anymore. However, one day, she decided to pay the Mirror a visit for old time’s sake.

“Magic Mirror on the wall, who in this land is the fairest of all?”

“You, my queen, are fair; it is true. But the young Prince, beyond the mountains w ith the seven miners, is still a thousand times fairer than you.” 

The queen was shocked. “It—it is a lie,” she stammered. “The prince is dead.”

“He is not,” the mirror replied. “Han Jisung lives.”

“Then what of this?” Grimhilde asked, grabbing the jar that contained what she had thought was the prince’s heart.

“Han Jisung still lives, the fairest in the land.  Tis the heart of a pig you hold in your hands.”

The queen shook with rage. The hunter had deceived her. She knew what she had to do. Firstly, the hunter needed to be summoned. It would be the dungeon for him. Secondly, she was going to finish what she started. She could not live in peace otherwise.

“I swear on my final breath,” Queen Grimhilde muttered, “Han Jisung will die.”

Chapter Text

Weeks passed. Jisung began to fall into a routine with his new family. Although there was an impressively large payout they’d gotten from the jewels and gold they’d collected the day Jisung had arrived, Chan decided they still needed to travel to the mines as frequently as possible. The group was not eager to immediately get back to work, but for the most part, they were all in agreement that it had to be done.

Jisung, on the other hand, quickly learned that mining was not the task for him.

He tried. Really, he did. But he could barely swing a pickaxe in a straight line, which was kind of a necessary skill for a miner to have.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chan had said after he pulled Jisung aside the first day they’d brought him along to the mine. “We’ll find something else for you to do.”

“Like what?”

“Something at home,” Chan said. “It’ll probably be easier for you to adjust to being away from the Queen that way, anyway.” He thought for a minute before saying, “You know, we could always teach you how to fish. Or hunt. We all know how, but none of us ever have time to do it. Changbin’s the best at both. I’m sure he could teach you, if you want.”

Jisung smiled. “I’d love to learn,” he said. “That was the biggest problem for me when I was. . . on my own, before I found you all. I had neither the skills nor the tools to take care of myself. . .” he trailed off. “But I’d love to help. It can be my way of repaying you for taking me in.”

“You don’t have to repay us,” Chan told him. “We wouldn’t have turned you away. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” Jisung replied, “but I’m still grateful.”

Chan patted him on the shoulder. “I know, Jisung,” he said.

They left the mine early that day; it was noon around the time they reached the cottage. Chan called Changbin over as soon as they’d reached the clearing.

“Jisung has something to ask you,” Chan told him.

Changbin looked at Jisung. “What’s up?”

“Can you please teach me how to fish and hunt?” Jisung asked nervously. He hadn’t had many opportunities to speak with Changbin before then, and he hoped that what he was requesting would be okay with him. “I’ve never done it before, but I want to learn so I can—”

“Okay.”

“I—what?”

“I’ll teach you,” Changbin said simply. “I don’t have much use for any of my tools these days, anyway. We can start now, if you want?”

Jisung smiled. “Absolutely. Thank you, Changbin.”

For several weeks, they worked on it every day. Some days, Changbin stayed home from the mine with Jisung so they wouldn’t have to worry about anyone interrupting them. His first few attempts were pitiful—in the beginning, he could barely sit still long enough to wait for the fish to bite, and when Changbin was teaching him how to hunt with the bow and arrows, he shot more arrows into the trees than into the target Changbin had made. Over time, however, he became more and more skillful. He began catching fish regularly, and he became even more lucky with the bow and arrow. He had never been more proud of himself the day he’d managed to shoot and bring home a deer.

“Holy shit,” Jeongin said as the group got home from the mines. Jisung had also just arrived and was dragging the heavy buck behind him. He had shot the animal in the neck, killing it instantly. He initially felt bad for taking the animal’s life, but that feeling was quickly overpowered by pride. He was ecstatic to be able to provide something for his friends.

“Nice shot, Jisung,” Woojin told him.

“Thanks,” Jisung replied. “I can’t believe I actually hit him. He was running away—”

“Wait a minute, seriously?” Changbin interrupted. “You hit a deer that was running?”

“I—yes?” Jisung said. “Is that good?”

“That’s great!” Seungmin said enthusiastically. “Even Changbin has a hard time getting them while they’re running. And you killed that thing with one shot!”

“Nice shot, Jisung,” Changbin said. He looked proud; he must have been happy to know that he’d taught Jisung well. “Seriously. That is so cool.”

Changbin showed Jisung how to properly skin the animal. It was a delicate process that took longer than Jisung could’ve imagined it would. When they were done, they brought the meat to Woojin, who preserved it in salt so they could keep it longer.

That night for dinner, Woojin made stew using the meat from the deer. Jisung had never been happier. Now that he had a skill that was proving to be useful to his friends, he was finally starting to feel like he belonged.

Jisung finally felt like he was a part of their family.

The next day, the others rose early to make their way to the mines. Jisung was awake, so Chan took the opportunity to talk to him before they left.

“We have to go out a little farther than usual today,” he told him. “We might not be back until later. Do you think you’ll be okay on your own for a while?”

“Of course,” Jisung replied. “I’ll be fine.”

Chan smiled. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad. Just don’t forget—”

“Trust no one,” Jisung finished. “I know. People out here are spooky.”

“Plus, you know, there’s the Queen,” Chan said. “I know she thinks you’re dead, but. . . you just never know.”

“I understand,” Jisung said. He knew better than anyone that Grimhilde would stop at nothing to get what she wanted, and he didn’t even want to think about what could happen if she found out that he was still alive. “I’ll be careful, Chan. Don’t worry.”

“I always worry.”

Jisung chuckled and followed Chan into the kitchen to see everyone off. “Good luck with the mining today,” Jisung said loud enough for all of them to hear. There was a chorus of “thank yous,” and then they were gone.

Jisung, still riding on the high of his first real sign of progress with his hunting skills, was eager to get back out into the woods. He dressed himself in the same black pants and boots he’d been wearing when he’d first arrived at the cottage along with a black shirt he’d gotten from Felix and a worn leather jacket that had given to him by Woojin. He grabbed his bow, slung his quiver of arrows over his shoulder, and took the hunting knife (which had been a “gift” of sorts from Jeongin—he wasn’t sure why the boy had given it to him, but he accepted it anyway) from the drawer of his nightstand and put it into the pocket of his jacket. He then headed for the door, almost completely forgetting about breakfast. He stopped in the kitchen before leaving and grabbed two apples—one for now, and one that he shoved into the pocket of his jacket for when he got hungry later. (Jisung had expected, after getting lost in the woods and only having eaten apples the entire time he’d been alone, that he would never want to eat a single apple again for the rest of his life; it was quite the contrary: he couldn’t get enough of the fruit and he ate them whenever possible.) Finally ready, Jisung left the cottage and wandered into the woods.

The morning was rather uneventful. He didn’t see any animals worth shooting, so for a while, all he did was walked. This was fine with him; he felt at peace whenever was able to walk like this, with no one but himself for company. He made sure to mark the trees every now and then with his knife so as to keep from getting lost. When he grew hungry, he ate his apple. He walked for so long that he forgot about hunting. He had been enjoying himself too thoroughly.

Then he heard something in the distance. A horse. He glanced up, eyes scanning as far as he could see. What he saw made his heart drop into his stomach.

Minho. Minho, riding a strong-looking white horse, alone in the middle of the woods. Minho, who likely thought Jisung was dead.

Heart pounding, Jisung dove behind a fallen tree. He made as little noise as possible. He tried frantically to slow his breathing; Minho would be within earshot soon. He absolutely could not let Minho see him. He stayed so silent that he could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. Jisung heard Minho approaching on his horse. There was an awkward shuffling sound, and then Minho said, “Go ahead and rest a minute, girl. I thought I heard something.”

Jisung’s stomach rolled. I have to get out of here, he thought. Steeling his nerves, he peeked his head over the top of the log.

Minho was standing about thirty feet away. Staring right at him.

In a panic, Jisung stood and ran. He heard Minho behind him calling his name. He didn’t care. All he knew was that he had to get away.

Then, in an instant, Jisung was on the ground. He’d tripped over a rock and landed face first in the dirt. He groaned and stood.

And smacked right into Minho.

Jisung gasped. He didn’t know what to say. He was terrified. For all he knew, the Queen had likely turned the Prince against him the day they’d met. Minho probably hated him.

Minho had yet to speak; he only stared at Jisung with wide eyes. Suddenly, much to Jisung’s shock, a single tear rolled its way down Minho’s cheek.

“I—what’s wrong?” Jisung spluttered.

“What’s wrong?” Minho had a nearly horrified expression on his face. “What on earth do you mean? What’s wrong? I thought you were dead, Jisung.” He closed the space between them and cupped Jisung’s face in his hands. He was fully crying now. “I thought you were dead.” His voice was a near whisper.

“I’m not dead,” Jisung said.

Minho laughed and pulled him into a hug. “Yeah,” he said. “I can see that. I’m glad you’re not.”

Jisung pulled away and looked Minho in the eyes. He was smiling so brightly; if it weren’t for the slight redness of Minho’s cheeks, Jisung wouldn’t have been able to tell that he’d been crying mere moments before. However, as if he’d realized something, Minho’s smile melted as quickly as it had appeared.

“Jisung, what happened?” Minho asked. “Why did you disappear? Why—why in the hell did I attend your funeral when you’re not dead?”

Jisung blinked. “You went to my funeral?”

“Of course I did. I—that’s not the point. You have a lot of explaining to do, Han Jisung.”

Jisung sighed. “It’s kind of a long story,” he said.

“Clearly.”

Jisung laughed. Minho was not amused.  “I’m serious,” Minho said. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Walk with me?” Jisung asked. “It’ll be easier to explain if you just. . . come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll get to that,” Jisung promised. “For now let’s just. . . go.”

Jisung started leading Minho back in the direction of the cottage. “It started a long time ago,” he began. “Grimhilde has never liked me. My entire life, she was always looking at me with this expression of. . . pure hatred. I kind of hinted this to you before, that day in the village?” Jisung looked at Minho.

Minho nodded. “I remember,” he said. “Go on.”

“It got worse after my father disappeared. She is definitely not someone who is meant to be raising a child.”

“What do you mean?”

Jisung paused, slightly surprised at himself when tears began pooling in his eyes. “Let’s just say I got really good at hiding bruises,” he said quietly.

“Oh, Jisung—”

“Everything is fine,” Jisung said quickly. “Besides, there’s still a lot more to this story.”

Minho took his hand then. “I’m listening,” he said, looking intently into Jisung’s eyes.

“I—okay,” Jisung squeaked. Minho didn’t let go of his hand. “Um, anyways, that day in the village. . . after you left, I decided to go for a walk. I started following one of the trails. Everything was fine for a little while.” Although I wished you were there, he thought. He decided against saying it out loud and continued his story. “But then I was attacked. A palace hunter grabbed me and tried to slit my throat. I thought it was all over.”

Minho squeezed his hand encouragingly. “It’s okay, Jisung,” he said quietly. “I’m here for you.”

Jisung nodded. He drew a shaky breath and said, “He stopped trying to kill me all of a sudden. I never figured out why. He told me the Queen hired him to have me killed.”

“What?” Minho said sharply. “I swear to God, I knew there was something off about that evil son of a—”

“I know,” Jisung said. “I knew she hated me, but I had no idea she hated me that much.”

“I’ll kill her,” Minho said angrily. “I’ll—”

“No, you won’t,” Jisung said. “That’ll start a war.”

“At least she’d be out of the way,” Minho grumbled.

Jisung wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. “Well, after that,” he continued, “I just. . . ran. She would’ve just tried to kill me again if I came back. The hunter made that very clear. I ran into the woods and got lost. God, that was a rough couple of days. I don’t even know how long I was out there.”

They’d finally reached the clearing. Jisung pointed to the cottage, not far off. “I eventually ended up here,” he said. He led Minho to the front door. “I was exhausted, dehydrated, starving—hell, I’d just gotten chased by wolves. It was a miracle I found this place. The guys who lived here took me in. I’d be dead if it weren’t for them.”

Minho squeezed Jisung’s hand again. Jisung had completely forgotten that their fingers had been intertwined the entire time. He took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said.

Jisung noticed something then. “What happened to your horse?” he asked.

Minho shrugged. “Got spooked when I started chasing after you. She’ll be fine; she’s gotten away from me before out here. She’ll find me eventually. By the way,” he asked, “when do I get to meet these mystery people who saved your life? I want to thank them.”

“Yeah. . . about that,” Jisung said sheepishly. He walked over to the single tree in the yard, a weeping willow that was a stone’s throw away from the cottage, and sat down. He didn’t want to take his chances of his family coming home while Minho was there. “Come over here,” he called out to Minho.

Minho walked over and sat next to him. They were shoulder to shoulder. “What’s up?” he asked.

“My friends are. . .a bit adverse to strangers. They about everything that happened to me, and they vehemently warned me to trust no one. Sure, they’re willing to help the odd traveler passing through every now and then, but you’re. . . very obviously not just a traveler,” he said, eyeing the crest of Minho’s kingdom on the front of his jacket.

“So you’re saying I can’t meet them,” Minho said. “I’m going to have to just. . . leave? After all this?”

“You can come back,” Jisung said quickly. “And I didn’t say you couldn’t meet them at all. Just not yet. I need to. . . warm them up first. Make sure they know you’re not a double-crossing spy sent here by Grimhilde.”

“Grimhilde thinks you’re dead.”

“She won’t be fooled forever,” Jisung said. “Anyways, yes, you can meet them, just not—”

As if summoned by the mere mention of them, he heard his family in the distance. He knew it was them; only Jeongin could cackle that loudly. Jisung stood, pulling Minho up with him. “You need to go,” he said quickly. “You’ll come back?”

“Of course I’ll come back,” Minho said.

“You’ll be able to find this place again?”

“Yes.” Minho pulled Jisung into a brief but warm hug. “I’ll be back. When can I come?”

“Whenever you want. I’m always here. Just—go. I have to hurry.”

“Goodbye, Jisung.”

“Goodbye.”

Minho quickly darted into the woods; Jisung ran inside. He threw his bow and quiver into his room and ran back into the living room just in time to greet everyone.

“Hey, Jisung,” Felix said.

“Hi.” He tried his best to sound calm and not breathless.

“What’s up?” Hyunjin asked.

“Oh, you know, just,” he said, “nothing. I—I just got back.”

“You seem nervous, Jisung,” Seungmin said. “You okay?”

“O-oh, yeah, I’m fine, I—”

“Didn’t get anything good today?” Changbin asked. Then, smirking, he said, “Or was yesterday’s kill just beginner’s luck?”

“Probably both,” Jisung said, grateful for the change of subject. “It was exciting, but who knows if I could do it again?”

“Oh, don’t doubt yourself so much,” Woojin told him. “Chan does the same thing. If you’re anything like him, it was definitely more than beginner’s luck.”

Jisung smiled. “Thanks, Woojin,” he said.

That night after dinner, Jisung pulled Felix into his room and shut the door. He was positive that he wouldn’t be able to keep Minho a secret; he’d nearly blown it immediately after everyone had gotten home that day.

“Jisung?” Felix asked. “What’s going on?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Um,” Felix said, “Sure? It depends on what it is, I guess.”

They sat down cross-legged on the floor, and Jisung told him everything—both what had happened that day and the day in the village he’d spent with Minho. He even told him about the first time he and Minho met each other at Jisung’s mother’s funeral.

“Jisung, I hate to break it to you,” Felix said, “but there’s no way I can keep this a secret.”

“Please, Felix?” Jisung grabbed his arm. “Please don’t tell the others. I have to, like, ease them into it.”

“And you told me why?”

“Because I thought I could trust you.” Jisung pouted.

Felix hesitated, then sighed heavily. “Alright, fine,” he relented.

“Yes!” Jisung gave Felix a quick hug. “Thank you,” he said.

“Why did you burden me with this?” Felix asked. “Now I have to keep a secret, too.”

“Because you’re my friend and I trust you,” Jisung said. “And I had to tell someone.”

“Well, who else are you gonna tell?”

“Everyone. . .” Jisung said. “Eventually. You’re the only one I’m telling now.”

“You should at least tell Chan,” Felix said. “He can help you way better than I can.”

“I absolutely cannot tell Chan right now,” Jisung said. “He’d lose his mind. Not only am I talking to a virtual stranger, but I’m also talking to a stranger who has regular direct contact with Grimhilde. I can’t tell Chan.”

“Okay,” Felix said. “I get it. But you’re gonna have to tell him sooner or later; either that, or he’ll find out on his own. Not from me,” he quickly reassured a panicked Jisung. “But if he keeps coming back, either you’ll have to tell him or you’re gonna get caught.”

“I know,” Jisung said. “I’ll tell him. Everyone. Eventually.”

“Good,” Felix said. “It’s getting late. I should go sleep. You should, too.” They stood; Felix made his way towards the door. “Night, Jisung,” he said.

“Good night, Felix.”

Jisung had a hard time falling asleep that night. He kept repeating that afternoon’s events in his mind. He still couldn’t believe any of it had happened. Finally, he drifted off to sleep, the last thought in his mind the promise Minho had made: I’ll be back.

Chapter Text

Minho kept his promise. The very next day, he was back.

Jisung was watering the flowers in the garden behind the cottage when he came. The others had already left for the day, and the sun was climbing high in the sky. Earlier that morning, Felix had wiggled his eyebrows at Jisung and said, “Have fun today.”

“Shut up, Felix,” Jisung had told him. Felix just laughed. The group left shortly thereafter, and Jisung was alone.

“Hi,” Minho said. Jisung jumped, not having expected Minho to appear the way he did.

“Shit,” he breathed. “You scared me.”

Minho flashed a grin. “Is that good or bad?” he asked coyly.

“Definitely good,” Jisung said without hesitation. His face was growing unexpectedly warm. “I’m glad you’re here,” he told Minho.

“So. . .” Minho said, “what are we gonna do today?”

Jisung blinked. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess just. . . whatever we want to do.”

Minho thought for a moment. “Okay,” he said, “well, what do you normally like to do? I can do that stuff with you.”

“I don’t exactly do a lot,” Jisung said. Minho kept his eyes trained on him; Jisung could feel it, but he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with him for some reason that he could not understand. “Changbin—he’s one of the others that lives here—he taught me how to hunt, so I do that a lot. But we don’t have to do that, that’s normally just me walking around in silence until—”

“Jisung.”

“Y-yes?”

“I’ll do whatever you want. I sought you out, remember?”

“I—okay,” Jisung said. He just stood there then, not knowing what else to say.

“We could go for a walk?” Minho suggested. “Just like yesterday. And you could bring your bow. I promise I’ll shut up if you need me to.”

“That’s a great idea,” Jisung said, relieved. “I’ll be right back. I just need to change into something a little better for traipsing around in the woods. And get my bow.”

“Can’t I come with?” Minho asked. “I’ve only ever seen your new home from the outside, you know.”

“I guess?”

Minho smiled and snaked his arm through Jisung’s. “Lead the way,” he said.

Jisung brought Minho inside. The front door brought them into the kitchen, which was in a state of disarray in the aftermath of this morning’s breakfast. The kitchen was connected to the living room, which was occupied by comfortable chairs, a couch, a piano, and more books than there was space for. It seemed strange having Minho there, standing in the kitchen that Jisung had come to consider his own. It was a collision of past and present.

“It’s not a lot,” Jisung said. “But it’s home.”

Minho was looking at everything with wide eyes. “It suits you,” he said quietly, smiling at Jisung. “Really well.”

“I, uh, yeah, I really like it here,” Jisung said. “Let’s—come on, this way.”

He lead Minho down the hallway, passing everyone else’s bedrooms and stopping outside the door of his own.

“Um, wait here,” Jisung said, pulling his arm free from Minho’s grasp. “I need to change.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Minho said with a grin. Jisung quickly rushed into his bedroom and closed his door. He didn’t want Minho to see how red his face was getting. Quickly, he pulled his hunting clothes out of his drawer. As he was doing so, he heard Minho slump against his door on the other side.

“I’m hurrying,” he called out to Minho, cursing himself at how warm his face felt.

“No rush,” came Minho’s muffled reply. Jisung got changed more quickly than he imagined he’d ever done in his life, grabbed his bow and quiver, and yanked the door open, causing Minho to stumble into him, his back hitting Jisung’s chest.

“Shit—” Minho said as he fell into Jisung’s arms.

“I—sorry, oh my God,” Jisung spluttered. He was stiff as a board.

Minho uprighted himself and turned around so that he was facing Jisung. He broke out into a grin. “Oh my God, your face,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t worry so much, everything is fine. You’re so cute, Jisung. No need to apologize. Are we ready to go?”

Jisung just nodded, snapping his mouth shut; his jaw had dropped to the floor when Minho started laughing at him. And then he’d said. . . that. Jisung had never been so mystified in his life.

Minho took Jisung by the wrist and turned on his heel, leading the two of them towards the front door. “Do you need to get anything else before we leave?” he asked when they stopped in the kitchen.

“No,” Jisung said, surprised by how calm he sounded. “We're good to go.”

“Great.”

Minho went back to linking their arms together as they walked outside and into the trees. It made Jisung's head feel. . . strange. Cloudy, Jisung thought. I feel like the clouds. The sensation was not unpleasant, but rather unfamiliar. He didn't understand where it was coming from, either. He and Minho had done this before, and yet this was the first time he'd felt the sensation. Or maybe it's just the first time I've noticed it.

He became aware of Minho staring at him questioningly. “Sorry, what?” he asked.

Minho laughed. “I just asked where we're going,” he explained.

“Oh,” Jisung said, “I didn't exactly have a destination in mind. I don't, usually. I normally just go wherever my feet take me.”

“Sounds like fun,” Minho said, sounding a little wistful.

Jisung smiled. “More fun now that I have someone to accompany me.”

Minho returned the smile, picture perfect and blindingly bright. Jisung thought it was the nicest smile he'd ever seen.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, still arm in arm, simply enjoying each other's company. In his open hand, Jisung carried his bow, swinging it gently by his side as he walked. Jisung was content with staying silent, but Minho, Jisung soon found out, was quite the opposite.

“So,” Minho started, “how how you been?”

Jisung giggled. “You mean since yesterday?”

“Since yesterday,” Minho confirmed. “Or. . . in general.”

“Well, yesterday I told one of them about you. You absolutely cannot meet them yet,” Jisung added quickly upon seeing Minho's expression turned hopeful.

“Why not?” Minho very nearly whined.

“Because I haven't told everyone yet. And Chan’ll skin me alive if I bring you home unannounced.”

Minho sighed defeatedly. “Don't worry,” Jisung reassured him. “I'm working on it. I just have to figure out how to convince them that you're not some, like, enemy spy or something.”

Minho looked at him with a small smile. “Good, because I—”

“Quiet a minute,” Jisung whispered sharply. He pulled his arm away from Minho's and took one of the arrows from its quiver. “I heard something. . .” he looked around. “There,” he said, eyes locked on his target. He raised his weapon, ready to fire the arrow.

It was a goose, wandering around between some bushes in the distance to Minho's right. He had to move to get out of the way of Jisung's arrow. “I—”

“Minho, please be as silent as possible,” Jisung said. I don't wanna scare it away.”

Minho nodded, mesmerized at Jisung's intense gaze. He looked back at the goose. Then, in what Minho thought was a devastating instant, the goose took to the sky, flying away from the pair. Jisung, however, seemed unperturbed. He swiftly aimed his arrow higher and sent it flying into the air. In less than a second, the bird was falling.

Jisung grinned. He looked at Minho, who had an amazed expression on his face. “Come on,” Jisung said excitedly. “Let's go get it.”

He darted off in the direction which the goose had fallen. Minho followed suit.

Jisung picked up the goose delicately. The arrow had hit it directly in the side of the head as the bird had been changing direction. The animal had likely died instantly.

“Holy shit, Jisung,” Minho breathed. “That was—you were so cool!”

“Really?” Jisung sounded genuinely surprised.

“Absolutely,” Minho enthused. “I could never do anything like that. I don't have the patience or the skill.”

Jisung looked down at the bird in his hands, red-cheeked and smiling. “I've been practicing,” he said.

“It's paid off,” Minho said. “That was seriously so cool. You looked like a badass warrior.”

Jisung's face was on fire at this point. “Th-thanks,” he managed. “Let's start heading back. I'll need to do something with the goose.”

“Alright,” Minho said. He once again linked their arms together, this time being careful not to do anything that might make Jisung drop the goose he held by the feet in his left hand. He couldn’t help but notice that the clouds in his mind didn’t return this time and wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or if he missed the feeling.

Neither of them said a word for the entire walk back to Jisung’s home. Jisung broke the silence once they reached the cottage. “Back in a flash,” he said. He rushed inside and placed the goose on the kitchen counter, then walked back out to rejoin Minho.

He found Minho sitting beneath the willow tree. Jisung joined him, sitting cross-legged in the ground next to him. As soon as he did, Minho scooted closer and practically glued himself to Jisung’s side.

“I’ve got some bad news,” Minho said. “I have to leave soon.”

“O-oh.” Jisung stammered. Minho sat up straight and took both of Jisung’s hands. “I enjoyed today,” he said. “I love spending time with you.”

Jisung flushed. “I—I like it when you’re here, too,” he said. Minho pulled him into a warm hug. This time, Jisung hugged him back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Minho whispered into his ear.

Jisung nodded. “Of course.”

Minho’s breath was warm against Jisung’s skin. For a long moment, Minho just stood there, holding Jisung in his arms. Jisung’s heart was hammering. The clouds are back, he thought absently. “I wish you could stay,” he found himself saying.

“Yeah,” Minho sighed. “I wish I could stay, too.”

Minho pulled away but kept a hold on Jisung’s hands. He looked him in the eyes and Jisung realized just how close Minho’s face was to his.

“Okay, Minho said finally, “I guess it’s time for me to take my leave.” He loosened his grip on Jisung’s hands, holding them in a gentle, featherlight grip. “I’ll be back.”

Jisung smiled as Minho slowly pulled his hands away. “I know,” he said softly.

Minho waved goodbye, and then he was gone. Jisung watched him walk away until he was too deep into the woods to be seen.

~~~~~~~~~

That evening, Jisung was on his way to bed when Seungmin grabbed his wrist and pulled him into his own bedroom, where Jeongin was waiting with Felix. Seungmin shut the door behind them.

“What on earth is—”

“We know about your secret dreamboat prince,” Jeongin said solemnly.

“What?” Jisung aimed a glare at Felix. “Felix, I swear to God, I will gut you like a fish if—”

“I didn't tell them,” he exclaimed. “At least, not both of them.”

“He told me,” Seungmin said.

“And I also told you that we were supposed to keep it a secret!” Felix said. “Then you went and flapped your lips to Jeongin.”

“Well, how did you expect me to keep it a secret? I couldn’t just—”

“Hey,” Jisung said loudly. Felix and Seungmin along with Jeongin stopped arguing and turned their attention to Jisung. “You’re lucky I like you,” Jisung addressed Felix. “And you,” he said, addressing Seungmin and Jeongin, “please don’t tell anyone else.”

“But I wanna meet him,” Jeongin whined.

“No, you just want to tease Jisung,” Seungmin said. Jeongin nodded, as if saying, Well, you’re not wrong.

“You guys can meet him,” Jisung said. “Just not yet.”

“Which I told Seungmin,” Felix said.

“Actually, I think what you said was, Don’t tell anyone, but Jisung has a secret lover and he’s gonna let us meet him soon.”

“Shut up, Seungmin.”

“Anyways,” Jisung said before their bickering could go any further, “He—I can’t have him just show up here without any explanation as to why. Chan’ll die on the spot.”

“Got that right,” Jeongin snorted. “He was nice to you, and he’s nice to travelers, but if a prince shows up at our doorstep—”

“—Chan would throw a fit,” Seungmin finished.

“Yes, I gathered that,” Jisung said, laughing a little and shaking his head. “Which is why Felix wasn’t supposed to tell anyone else.”

“I’m sorry, I was excited,” Felix said.

“I know,” Jisung replied. “I am too.”

“How are you gonna tell everyone else?” Jeongin asked. “And when?”

“Soon,” Jisung promised. “I need to tell them eventually.”

“Great,” Seungmin said. “That was a lovely little chat. Now, everyone out.”

“Good night to you, too, Seungmin,” Jeongin grumbled.

“As if you aren’t tired, too, little one,” Seungmin shot back.

Jisung laughed. “Good night, guys,” he said as he left the room.

“Good night,” the three of them replied in near perfect unison.

Jisung went to his own bedroom and fell asleep faster than he had in years, dreaming of gentle hands and warm embraces.

Chapter Text

“Please read the charges,” Queen Grimhilde instructed the judge before her.

“The accused has been hereby charged with the murder of Prince Han Jisung,” the judge stated monotonously. “New details have emerged in the case revealing that the Prince was attacked not by a bear, but by the accused. He is sentenced to death.”

“Thank you,” Grimhilde said. “Please carry out the sentence, Executioner.”

The hunter stood at the base of the guillotine. Sweat was pouring down his face. The executioner—a hooded figure with a strong build—gave the hunter a shove, forcing him to lie facedown on the bench of the guillotine. His neck was held firmly in place by the lunette—a wooden plank with a perfectly circular hole in its middle. The angled blade above him had been freshly sharpened that morning. It gleamed menacingly against the bright lights of the courtroom.

Tears pooled in the hunter’s eyes. He could hear his wife, now seven months pregnant, sobbing quietly in the back of the courtroom. His heart felt heavy. I’m leaving her, he thought. She’s going to be all alone. I’m letting her down.

“Does the accused have any final words?” the judge asked in a dull voice.

“I—I am innocent,” the hunter choked out. The lunette holding his neck in place made speaking a difficult task.

“The information provided to this Royal Court says otherwise,” the judge said.

“Please,” the hunter begged. “My wife—”

“There is nothing you can say to change the outcome of this trial,” the judge said. He glanced at the Queen, who was smiling cruelly. Grimhilde locked eyes with the hunter and raised her right hand slowly. At the signal, the executioner pulled the lever, releasing the blade of guillotine. The last thing the hunter heard before the blade sliced its way through the nape of his neck was his wife’s screams.

~~~~~~~~~~

There was nothing Queen Grimhilde enjoyed more than a swift, well-deserved execution.

Framing the hunter had been easy. It was a simple spell, one that she had used many times to the point of memorization in order to get what she wanted. Now that the hunter had been taken care of, however, the Queen had a bigger spell to cast.

She climbed the high tower to her Casting Chamber, a room the servants knew nothing about; she forbade anyone from entering the Chamber. Inside were her massive spellbooks, ancient magical texts, ingredients for spells and potions lining shelves that covered the walls of the Chamber, and the Queen’s enchanted Mirror. Queen Grimhilde perused the spellbooks until she found the one she was looking for: a heavy spellbook entitled Darkness Asunder: A Guide to Potions.

She worked for hours, creating a horrendous concoction that was sure to be the end of her stepson. The ingredients were foul, amongst the worst the Queen had ever worked with. In the final step, the recipe for her dark potion called for the flesh of another, lesser being. . . Grimhilde knew of only one being lesser than her stepson. She brought forth the pig’s heart, the one she had believed to be the heart of the Prince, and thrust it into the cauldron.

The wicked mixture fizzed and steamed as the heart sunk into its depths. The Queen stirred the brew; it began to steam even more, the contents fizzling away until there was nothing left but a bloodred apple sitting in the bottom of the cauldron. She delightedly picked up her prize. The spell was complete.

“Ah,” she said softly, “so this is what will bring down the great Han Jisung.” She cackled evilly and placed the apple gingerly next to her cloak, which hung on a hook near the door of the Chamber. Next she set her sights on her enchanted Mirror.

“Slave in the Magic Mirror,” she said sharply, "come from the farthest space. Through wind and darkness, I summon thee."

Queen Grimhilde felt a chill. The Mirror was resisting her. “Speak!” She commanded. “Let me see thy face.”

“What wouldst thou know, my Queen?” The Mirror asked, finally answering Grimhilde’s call.

“I wish to know the exact location of Han Jisung.”

“Over the seven jewelled hills, beyond the seventh fall, in the cottage of the seven miners, dwells Han Jisung, fairest one of all.”

“Is that all?” the Queen demanded.

“Follow the river,” the Mirror replied. “It shall guide you well.”

Satisfied, the Queen dismissed her slave trapped within the Mirror. The Queen now knew exactly what she had to do. First, she would brew a potion to conceal her as she made her way to the Prince’s hiding place. It was a simple recipe, calling for easy-to-find ingredients such as the whisper of the caster and the tears of a ghost. The potion required three days to ferment before it was ready, and after that, all the Queen would need was a single vial of the stuff, enough to last her just long enough to see her stepson die.

“As soon as the potion is ready,” Queen Grimhilde muttered to herself, “Han Jisung will see his final day.”

Chapter Text

Jisung had never been so content with his life. Despite the secret he was keeping, that is.

That day when Minho arrived at the cottage, Jisung was waiting outside to greet him. He’d made his way outside at the earliest opportunity after his family had left for the day (some of them more willingly than others—Jeongin in particular wanted nothing more than to stay home to meet Jisung’s Prince Charming, as the boy had put it when Seungmin and Felix had to practically drag him out of the house) and sat beneath the willow tree, which in Jisung’s mind had started to become synonymous with Minho’s visits. He grinned widely as soon as he saw the other boy approaching from the edge of the clearing.

“My,” Minho said, returning the smile, “you look happy to see me.”

“I am,” Jisung laughed. “You up for an adventure today? I had an idea yesterday after you left.”

“I’m up for anything,” Minho replied. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well,” Jisung said, “since I’ve started hunting I’ve done a lot of exploring around here. I want to show you some of my favorite places.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Minho said. “Let’s do it.”

Jisung approached Minho, ready this time when he intertwined their arms as he usually did. What he was not ready for, however, was how Minho laced their fingers together as they began walking.

“Uh,” Jisung said. His face felt warm for what he was sure was the thousandth time at this point.

“So, where are we headed?” Minho asked, completely unaware of the whirlwind of thoughts swirling through Jisung’s mind.

“W-well, there’s this, um,” Jisung stammered, “there’s this lake.”

“A lake, huh?” Minho said, looking at Jisung with a grin. “Do tell, what makes this lake so special to you?”

“Believe me, you’ll see when we get there,” Jisung said, feeling some of his confidence returning. “It’s beautiful there.”

“Hell, Jisung,” Minho said once they reached the lake, “you weren’t kidding.” Minho was looking at the scenery in wonderment. The lake was wide and almost perfectly circular. Its surface reflected the surrounding oak and pine trees as if it were made of glass rather than water. They approached the lake together; the grass gave way to fine sand as they got closer to the shore. The water was a deep blue and perfectly clear. The first time Jisung had happened upon the lake, he’d suspected that he was the only one to know of its whereabouts. Minho was the first person he’d thought of when he’d considered showing off his discovery.

“This place is so pretty,” Minho breathed. “It’s no wonder you’re the one who found it.”

“I—you—what?” Jisung spluttered. Minho just laughed. “Listen, do you want to use the raft with me or not?” Jisung asked.

Minho’s eyes brightened. “There’s a raft?”

Jisung nodded. “I brought it here with me the last time I came here, about a week or two ago,” he said. “I’ll be right back, I hid it around here somewhere. . .” He trailed off as he walked towards a large bush, underneath which was the raft. It wasn’t terribly large, but Jisung thought it would be just big enough for the two of them to sit on comfortably. He pulled it out from beneath the bush and brought it back to the shore of the lake, where Minho was waiting.

“We’ll need to find something to paddle with,” Jisung said. “Anything to keep us from getting stranded in the middle of the lake. I don’t swim well.”

“On it,” Minho said, bounding off and returning moments later, dragging two long sticks behind him. “Do these look long enough?” he asked.

Jisung nodded. “Those’ll work,” he said. “You ready?”

Minho grinned. “Absolutely.”

Together, the two of them boarded the raft and pushed off. They used the sticks as makeshift oars, pushing them into the mud at the bottom of the lake to guide them towards the center. Once they got there, they sat down on the raft.

“Careful,” Jisung said as Minho moved a little too much, causing the raft to tip a bit. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t swim well.”

Minho smirked. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t do anything. . . like this.” He rocked the raft. Jisung’s end began tipping into the water.

Jisung grabbed Minho’s hand and squeezed it tightly. His other hand gripped the edge of the raft until his knuckles turned white. “Christ, Minho, stop,” he pleaded.

Minho instantly became motionless, seeing the fear in Jisung’s eyes. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t realize you were that scared.”

“Shithead,” Jisung said weakly, loosening his grip slightly on Minho’s hand.

“Hey, now,” Minho said, feigning offence. Jisung laughed. “Sorry,” he said. “And it’s not really the water I’m scared of. Especially not here; the lake’s too beautiful to be scary.”

“Well,” Minho said, “then what are you afraid of? If you don’t mind my asking, of course,” he added quickly. “Maybe talking about it will help.”

“Yeah,” Jisung said. “You’re probably right.” He drew a breath. “I’m not scared of the water. I’m scared of drowning.”

Minho looked him in the eyes. “I’m sorry for scaring you,” he said solemnly.

“I know,” Jisung said. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Jisung looked away from Minho and at the water. “Honestly,” he said, “I don't really know why I got so scared. I can't imagine anything that bad happening here, of all places.” He extended a hand toward the water, touching it gently and sending out slow ripples all around his hand. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, but Jisung would've sworn he saw something moving in the shimmering water, an almost human figure flitting around at the bottom of the lake. Jisung sunk his hand a little deeper into the water. Yes, he thought, surely he'd seen something. He was positive there was something at the bottom of the lake. He leaned forward and stared intently into the depths.

“Jisung, maybe you should be careful,” Minho said. He'd been watching Jisung worriedly the entire time, partially out of guilt for scaring him and partially because he had no idea what Jisung was doing.

Disregarding Minho's caution, Jisung leaned forward even more, tipping the raft at his end. “Jisung, you're going to—”

Before he had time to finish his sentence, a pale blue hand materialized out of the water and latched onto Jisung's. In the blink of an eye, Jisung was pulled off the raft and into the water.

Minho didn't hesitate. He stood and readied himself to dive in after him.

“Not so fast,” said a voice behind him.

Minho turned around to find a woman with pale blue skin and emerald green hair standing behind him. “You are a trespasser here,” she said to him. “I am Unda. I am the lake.”

A naiad, Minho thought frantically. Water spirit. He looked into the water and saw Jisung struggling helplessly against two other naiads holding him at the bottom of the lake. “Please, ma'am,” he said to her. “We're sorry for trespassing. But my friend is drowning.”

“That is the goal, yes,” Unda said. “He was the first human to find this place. Since he had the audacity to return, we must teach him a lesson. We take things. Since this boy has nothing, we must take his life.”

Minho forced himself not to cry out. He had to stay calm and think. He had to save Jisung.

Suddenly, Minho had an idea. “What if we trade?” he asked, keeping his voice as even as possible.

“Trade?” the naiad scoffed. “What could you have that could possibly be a fair trade?”

Minho pulled one of the rings on his right hand and showed it to the naiad. It was a gold band encrusted with sapphires. “Something of value?” he said.

Unda studied the ring. “Not enough,” she said.

Minho wanted to scream. Jisung was going to drown and it would be his fault if he didn’t figure out how to reason with the naiad. He pulled off another of his rings, this one silver with emeralds, and held it out to the naiad. “I offer you both of these,” he said, “along with our raft. I will also promise that we will be the last humans to ever disturb you.”

The naiad narrowed her eyes. “How?”

“I am the prince of a nearby human kingdom,” Minho said. “I can sanctify this place, ensure that no human being will ever set foot again.”

Unda considered his offer. Minho’s heart was pounding. Jisung can’t possibly last that much longer down there, he thought. He spared a glance towards the bottom of the lake; Jisung had stopped struggling in the grasp of the other naiads. The sight sent a ripple of fear through him.

“You have a deal,” Unda said after what felt like an eternity. “Your friend will be returned to you momentarily. Goodbye, young prince.”

The naiad melted into the water, and a gentle wave pushed the raft on which Minho was standing towards the shore. Seconds later, seconds before Minho himself jumped into the lake to go after Jisung, the boy was brought to the surface by the naiads holding him under. Please be okay, he prayed. Please.

As soon as Jisung was lying flat on his back in the sand, he started coughing and spluttering. Minho could’ve cried. He threw his arms around Jisung (surprisingly, the boy was completely dry—naiad magic? Minho couldn’t think of any other explanation) and quickly pressed his lips to the boy’s cheek. “Thank God you’re not dead,” he shouted. He felt hot tears on his cheeks.

“Oh, Minho, don’t cry,” Jisung said. His voice was hoarse from his near drowning. “I’m okay now.”

Minho pulled away slightly, enough so he could look Jisung in the eyes. “Jisung,” he said, “I just came this close to attending your funeral a second time. I—I don’t know how I would’ve handled that.”

“Well,” Jisung said quietly, “I didn’t die. I think the naiads put a spell on me. It was like I was sleeping. It must’ve broken once I got back on dry land.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Minho pulled Jisung into another tight hug. “Do you think you can stand? We need to get you home.”

“I think so,” Jisung said. Minho helped him up; the boy nearly collapsed under his own weight upon standing. Jisung sighed and looked at Minho defeatedly. Chuckling a little, Minho pulled one of Jisung’s arms and put it around his own shoulders and wrapped one of his hands around Jisung’s waist. As they walked, he could feel Jisung trembling against him.

“We’re almost there,” Minho whispered in his ear. They’d just reached the clearing and Minho was now guiding Jisung towards their spot beneath the willow tree. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he helped Jisung into a sitting position. He sat next to him.

“Tired,” Jisung said quietly. “And—and scared. Oh God, I almost drowned, Minho.” Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill onto his cheeks. Minho pulled him into a hug. Jisung may have been dry, but he was still freezing from being at the bottom of the lake. Minho, however, radiated warmth.

“I wouldn’t have let you drown,” Minho murmured against Jisung’s temple.

Jisung sniffled. “Thank you, Minho,” he whispered. “For everything.”

“Of course, love.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Who in the hell are you?”

Jisung startled. “Oh, shit,” he said. He and Minho had fallen asleep under the willow tree. Before him was Chan; the rest of the miners stood awkwardly behind him.

Chan looked at Minho, then back at Jisung, pinning him in a glare. “Han Jisung,” he said, “you have a lot of explaining to do.”

Chapter Text

"Han Jisung,” Chan said, “you have a lot of explaining to do.”

Jisung stood; Minho followed suit. “Chan,” Jisung said, “I promise there’s a reasonable explanation for all of this.”

“There’d better be,” Chan said.

Jisung took a deep breath. “Everyone,” he said, “this is Minho.”

“And where did Minho come from, Jisung?” Chan asked. His eyes were narrowed.

“He was with me on the day I had to leave the kingdom,” Jisung said. “I didn’t tell you about him before, because I didn't think I’d ever see him again.” Minho squeezed Jisung’s hand encouragingly. Jisung looked at him and gave him a small smile. Minho’s eyes said exactly what Jisung needed to hear: I’m here for you.

“He was the last person I talked to before. . . everything that happened,” Jisung went on. “Then when I found you guys, and you told me there’d been a funeral for me, I thought there was no way I’d ever see him again. For all I knew, he thought I was dead.

“But then one day, I was out hunting and, by some miracle, there he was. At first I was scared. I thought the same thing you’re probably thinking now—that Grimhilde somehow found out I’m not actually dead and sent him here after me. But then—”

“Then I told Jisung the truth,” Minho interrupted. “I told him how much I care about him.”

(Jeongin cooed, but was almost immediately cut off by Seungmin elbowing him in the ribs. “Shit, Seungmin,” he yelped, “that hurt.”)

Jisung looked gratefully at Minho, then returned his gaze to the rest of the group. “Today, Minho saved my life,” he said. “We went to a lake I found while hunting one day and got on a raft. What we didn’t know was that the lake was filled with naiads. I got pulled in. Minho—Minho reasoned with one of the naiads, got them to let me go. If he hadn’t been there, I would’ve drowned.”

Felix stepped forward then and Chan, whose expression had softened somewhat, made no attempt to stop him from approaching the stranger. He clapped Jisung on the shoulder and said, “I’m glad you’re okay, Jisung. And I’m glad we don’t have to keep your secrets anymore.” He looked at Minho. “Nice to finally meet you,” he said.

“Hang on,” Chan said. “Felix, you knew about this? For how long?”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad, Chan, it’s only been a few days.”

“A few days?” Chan returned his attention to Jisung. “You know, of all the ridiculously foolish things you could’ve done, this is pretty high up there on the list,” he said. “And why in God’s name didn’t you just tell me about all this?”

Woojin put a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “Maybe because he knew you’d react like this?” he said. “Am I right, Jisung?”

Jisung nodded appreciatively. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, Chan,” Jisung said. “I needed time to. . . figure it all out. I told Felix the first time Minho came here because I couldn’t just keep it to myself; I had to tell someone—”

“And Felix told me,” Seungmin said. “And I told Jeongin. Since we’re laying everything out in the open, here.”

Chan rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” he said, chuckling a little. “Jisung, you couldn’t have picked a worse person to tell. Felix is shit at keeping secrets.”

“I am not,” Felix said indignantly.

“Felix, you literally told me less than twenty-four hours after Jisung told you,” Seungmin said.

“You didn’t last half as long,” Jeongin interjected, poking Seungmin in the arm.

“If anything, Felix couldn’t have picked a worse person to tell,” Hyunjin said with a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m with Hyunjin, here,” Changbin interjected. “How long did you last before you spilled to Jeongin, Seungmin? Two hours? Three?”

Seungmin crossed his arms, pouting slightly. “One,” he mumbled.

Everyone, even Minho, even Chan, burst out laughing. Hyunjin pinched Seungmin’s cheek; Seungmin swatted his hand away. However, he couldn’t avoid smiling along with everyone else.

“Alright, guys,” Woojin said, “Let’s get inside. I’m sure we’re all hungry, yeah?” Everyone groaned in agreement. Woojin turned his gaze on Minho. “Are you joining us?” he asked.

“I’d love to, yes,” Minho said. “If—if that’s alright, of course,” he added, looking quickly at Jisung, who smiled and nodded.

“Of course it’s alright,” Jisung said. “Right, Chan?” He shot Chan a pointed look.

“It’s alright,” Chan said, looking far more relaxed than he had before Jisung explained everything. He looked at Minho and said, “Since you’re obviously not here to hurt Jisung, you might as well get to know the rest of us as well. We’re all family here.” Chan smiled, and everyone began walking inside. Jisung and Minho held back, following everyone else into the cottage.

Jeongin was waiting by the door to ambush them as soon as they walked inside. Everyone else had already dispersed; Chan was helping Woojin prepare the meal and the others had gone to their respective bedrooms in order to change out of their grimy work clothes. “Hi,” Jeongin said, looking delighted. There was an elated grin spread across his face. “I’m Jeongin.”

“Nice to meet you, Jeongin,” Minho replied.

“It’s great to finally meet Jisung’s Prince Charming.” Jeongin winked at Jisung. “He’s a looker,” he said.

Jisung turned bright red. “Jeongin, why are you like this,” he moaned.

“What?” Jeongin asked. “It’s the truth. And you’re holding his hand,” he stage-whispered.

Jisung’s face was burning (yet he kept his grip on Minho’s hand). He could feel Minho chuckling. Finally, rescue came in the form of Hyunjin and Changbin; the two of them beckoned Jisung to follow them into the living room. Jisung immediately obliged and dragged Minho with him, away from the embarrassment that was Jeongin, who wiggled his eyebrows at Jisung as he left and scurried off to find Seungmin. The two of them sat next to Hyunjin and Changbin on the couch and the two of them introduced themselves to Minho.

“Ah,” Minho said to Changbin, “Jisung told me about you. You’re the one who taught him to hunt.”

“That’s right,” Changbin said, beaming proudly, “Taught the kid everything he knows.”

“How on earth did you manage to not immediately spill this to everyone?” Hyunjin asked Jisung. “If it were me, I would’ve cracked like an egg the very first day.”

“I really don’t know,” Jisung admitted. “And technically, I did crack. I told Felix.”

"Fair enough."

Seungmin and Felix entered the living room then, the former taking a seat in one of the armchairs and the latter sitting cross-legged on the floor near Changbin. “We locked Jeongin in his room,” Seungmin announced. “You're welcome.”

“What for?” Minho asked. “He was a cutie.”

“He's irritating,” Felix corrected. “And we could tell he was bothering Jisung. He was as red as a tomato, for crying out loud.”

“We'll let him out when it's time for dinner,” Seungmin added.

Jisung couldn't believe any of this was real. He couldn't believe that Minho was here, that he was holding his hand in his living room, that he was talking comfortably with everyone present as if he'd known them his entire life. Soon enough, surely, Jisung would wake up, and this would all be a pleasant dream.

Then Minho gently squeezed his hand. “You okay?” he asked quietly. “You look a little dazed.”

“I'm fine,” Jisung said, but in reality his head was spinning. This was real.

Eventually, Woojin called them all into the kitchen for dinner. Seungmin hurried off to let Jeongin out of his room; Hyunjin followed so he could find an extra chair for Minho. When he came back, he made a show out of placing it next to Jisung's usual spot at the table. Everyone sat down. Jisung sat in his usually spot at their circular dining table; Felix, who typically sat to Jisung’s left, sat with one chair between the two of them so that Minho could keep his place at Jisung's side, giving Jisung a quick wink as he did so. As soon as Minho was sitting next to Jisung, he immediately found his hand underneath the table and clasped onto it. Jisung smiled at him.

“Smells great,” Changbin said as he took a bowl of something steaming from Chan, who was struggling to balance three other bowls in his arms. “What is it, Woojin?” he asked.

“Vegetable rice soup,” Woojin said with a grin. “Veggies are from the garden,” he added. “Jisung does a great job taking care of that garden. He's got a real green thumb.”

“I don't do that much,” Jisung mumbled as he took a bowl of soup from Chan and passed it to Minho, whose eyes were gleaming. Jisung stared back at him.

“Hello,” Chan said, “earth to Jisung? Food? Take it, please, before my arms fall off?”

Jisung quickly took the bowl that Chan was holding out to him, muttering an apology.

“The soup is delicious,” Minho said, looking at Woojin, “but I don't believe I caught your name?”

“Ah, yeah,” Woojin said, “I'm Woojin. It's nice to meet you, Minho.”

“Nice to meet you.” Minho smiled.

“You guys sure hold hands a lot,” Jeongin said with a grin. “You're not exactly sneaky about it, either.”

“Jeongin, I love and care about you deeply, but please shut the hell up,” Seungmin said. “I regret all of my decisions. Specifically the one where I decided to tell Jeongin Jisung's secret. It is literally the only thing he’s talked about all day.”

“I was simply observing this lovely display of young love,” Jeongin said. Everyone laughed, including Minho. Jisung hoped he didn't look as red as he felt.

Hyunjin, to Jisung's right, pinched his cheek. “No need to be so embarrassed,” he cooed.

“Yeah, and doing that is gonna make him feel so much more comfortable,” Chan said. Jisung looked up at him and saw that he was grinning. That made him feel better, if only marginally. Knowing that Chan (along with everyone else) had warmed up to the idea of Minho being here took away a great deal of worry off of Jisung’s mind.

The rest of the meal passed in a similar manner; Minho politely answered any questions Jisung's family asked him. Mostly they were curious about the things he and Jisung had done together.

“Where did you first meet?” Jeongin asked around the time people begun to finish their food.

Minho looked at Jisung with asking, unsure eyes. “It's okay,” Jisung said. He looked at Jeongin and said, “The first time we met was at my mother's funeral.”

Silence. Although he didn't break eye contact with Jeongin, he could feel everyone looking at him. “Oh, Jisung,” Chan said softly. There was a concerned, sympathetic look in his eyes.

“It's okay,” Jisung said. “It's kinda ironic, actually. We could've been good friends our entire lives if it wasn't for. . .” He trailed off.

“That evil snake who calls herself Queen,” Minho finished for him.

“Got that right,” Chan muttered. “Just thinking of how awful one would have to be to try to kill their own family makes me angry beyond belief.”

“I know exactly what you're talking about,” Minho replied.

By that point, everyone had finished eating. Changbin helped Chan and Woojin clear the table. Felix went into the living room and came back with two decks of cards. “Wanna join?” he asked Minho.

“What do you play?” Minho asked.

“We play poker,” Chan said, taking a seat at the table, “but instead of money we use river stones. We're all too stubborn to trade between our collections, so we decided to make it a matter of winning or losing our favorites.”

“I’d love to play,” Minho said. He looked at Jisung apologetically. “But I really should get going,” he said quietly.

“Man,” Jeongin whined. “I was having so much fun watching our power couple.”

Chan stood. “It was nice meeting you, Minho,” he said with a warm smile. “Feel free to come back any time.” There was a welcoming look on Chan’s face that Jisung recognized—it was the same look Chan had given to Jisung when he'd first arrived at the cottage.

“Thank you for having me. And thank you for the meal,” Minho said to Woojin, who smiled and nodded. “And thank all of you,” Minho said, “for taking care of Jisung. He means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” Changbin said.

“We love him,” Hyunjin added. Everyone voiced their agreement, and Minho beamed. He looked at Jisung. “Come outside with me?”

Jisung nodded and walked outside with Minho, the two of them still hand in hand. The sun had set hours ago; stars glittered in the sky above them as they walked. They stopped once they reached the willow tree. Minho gazed at him intently. “I'm so happy,” he whispered.

“I am, too,” Jisung whispered back. “I'm so glad none of them tried to kill you.”

Minho laughed. “Yes,” he said, “that's definitely a plus.” Then he raised a hand to touch Jisung's cheek, leaned forward, and pressed a gentle kiss to Jisung’s lips.

Jisung thought his heart might explode. He was grinning like an idiot. Minho smiled fondly. “I should get going,” he said. “I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Uh—yeah—tomorrow.” Jisung couldn't wipe the smile off of his face. “Good night, Minho,” Jisung said.

“Good night, love.”

Chapter Text

Finally, at long last, Grimhilde’s potion was ready.

The Queen had never been more giddy. She announced to her court that she was going on an outing early the next morning, and that she would be back by sundown. Early in the morning, she walked with a spring in her step as she donned her cloak, placing the enchanted apple into one pocket and the vial of the potion into the other. She left the castle eagerly.

Dawn had not yet broken when the Queen began her trek into the woods. A normal person may have been scared of traveling through the forest while it was still enveloped in darkness, but the Queen worried not. She was far too proud.

She followed the river, just as the Mirror said. Two hours into her journey, the sun began to rise, although it went unnoticed at first; there was a blanket of clouds covering the sky, through which the sun barely shone.

Finally, after what felt like a walk that would never end (but in reality was likely only an hour at best after sunrise; the sun had hardly risen), the Queen reached a clearing in the trees. In the dead center of the clearing lay a rather quaint-looking cottage. The home of the miners, she thought, grinning wickedly. Now was her time to act. The Queen removed the vial of potion and the apple from her pockets, setting the apple down on the ground in front of her so as to keep it from being affected by the potion’s magic. Then she took the stopper out of the vial and drank. The liquid inside was atrocious, as if she were drinking pure vinegar. She choked it down and watched triumphantly as her form began to disappear. The spell wouldn’t last long, so she had no time to lose. She picked up the apple and approached the cottage. As quietly as possible, she crept inside and placed the apple in a bowl in the kitchen which, conveniently enough for Grimhilde, held more apples, most of them green and yellow. The few red apples in the bowl paled in comparison to the Queen’s enticing enchantment. Smiling to herself, the Queen exited the cottage and found a comfortable place to wait, a position from which she could see through the window into the cottage.

She would sit. She would wait. And at long last, Queen Grimhilde would watch her stepson die.

~~~~~~~~~~

Minho was buzzing.

Yesterday had been so perfect. He started out worried—what if Jisung's family didn't like him? But it quickly became clear that they all wanted him around as much as he wanted to be there. He even appreciated Jeongin’s antics; Minho appreciated any opportunity he could get to see Jisung blushing and flustered.

And then. . . He'd kissed him. He wasn't planning on doing it; it just happened. The look on Jisung's face afterwards alone was enough to make Minho's heart soar. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to pull Jisung to him and kiss him breathless.

Unfortunately for Minho, he really wasn't kidding when he told everyone he had to leave. His parents were less than thrilled to have their son arriving home at so late an hour. However, when he told them that he was back so late because of a boy, they eased up on him. They didn't want their son running the kingdom without someone by his side when the time came.

Which was why they were not opposed to Minho leaving so early the next morning. He even took his horse to speed up the journey—something he hadn't done since the first time he found Jisung in the woods out of fear of getting caught. He could travel much more quietly on foot, so whenever he had to leave, he was able to make a silent, albeit significantly more slow, getaway. Now that he didn't have to worry about sneaking around, he'd be able to cut his travel time in half. 

The sun was rising steadily as he made his journey. By the time he reached the clearing, the sun had been in the sky for two hours. He slid off of his horse and tied her reigns to a tree at the edge of the clearing. He fed her a carrot from the pouch of her saddle before approaching the cottage. He looked through the window to see Woojin standing in the kitchen, facing away from him. Minho walked inside.

“Hi, Woojin.”

“Jesus Christ,” Woojin yelped, whipping around to face Minho. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Minho said apologetically.

“What are you doing here so early?”

Minho shrugged. “I. . . I guess I couldn't stay away.”

“Minho?”

Minho whipped around to find Jisung standing in the doorway. He looked soft around the edges, like he'd just woken up. His hair was sticking up in odd places and his eyes were half-closed, but Minho thought he'd never looked more precious. Minho smiled. “Good morning, love,” he said warmly.

“Morning. . . What are you doing here so early?”

“He came to see you,” Woojin interjected before Minho could make his reply, “obviously.”

Jisung’s face lit up. Suddenly, Jeongin came barreling out of his bedroom. “Good morning, everyone,” he said in a lively tone. He wrapped an arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “I see you have company,” he said.

Jisung smiled and gently pulled himself out of Jeongin’s grip. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess I do.”

Minho walked over to the table, on which sat a bowl of apples. He took one from the bowl for himself, and another for Jisung. He turned and asked, “Which one would you like?”

Jisung eyed the two apples Minho held in his hands: one green, one bright red. He had to admit, the red one looked delicious, but. . . “The green one, please,” he said. “The green ones have always been my favorite.”

Minho smiled and tossed him the green apple. “Good answer,” he said jokingly. “I kind of wanted the red one anyway.”

He approached Jisung and intertwined their arms. Jisung smiled. “Walk outside with me?” Minho asked. Jisung nodded, and the two of them walked towards the door, Jisung stopping momentarily to take his bow and quiver of arrows from their place beside the door (he’d taken to keeping them there instead of in his room; he’d had a few too many instances where he or someone else—read, Felix, Seungmin, or Jeongin—nearly broke either the arrows or the bow itself). Woojin had to wrap his arms around Jeongin to keep the boy from following them outside.

“It looks like it might rain today,” Jisung commented. He pulled his arm out of Minho’s grasp to take a bite of his apple.

Minho nodded and sunk his teeth into the blood red apple. It was by far the most delicious apple he’d ever eaten. Sweet, crisp, perfect—forget about any other apple. The one he held in his hand was the best there was.

“Minho, are you alright?” Jisung asked worriedly. “You’re really pale.”

“I feel fine,” Minho replied, but as soon as he spoke, everything changed. His stomach churned. His head spun. He drew a breath, and he wheezed as he exhaled. He coughed into his elbow, attempted to take a step towards the willow tree, and immediately began to fall.

“Minho!” Jisung surged forward to catch him. “What—what’s wrong?”

Minho slumped against him, his energy drained. “I don’t know,” he said weakly. “I—” His face changed suddenly, contorting in pain. His forehead broke out in sweat and Jisung felt him begin to tremble violently. His knees buckled; Jisung sank to the floor with him and held him close. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. His heart was hammering. Minho’s eyes fluttered closed, and Jisung let out a cry of despair. Small drops of rain began to fall around them.

“What’s going on?” Chan. Jisung hadn’t even noticed when Woojin fled the kitchen to find help.

“I, I don’t know, Minho came and then he ate an apple and then he collapsed—”

“Jisung, Jisung, calm down,” Chan said. “It’ll be okay. We’ll—we’ll figure something out. We’ll fix him.”

By that point everyone else had filed outside, concern blanketing their faces. “What happened?” Hyunjin asked.

“I don’t know,” Jisung sobbed. “It just happened, I—”

Behind them, they heard an angry cry. They all turned, and Jisung’s jaw dropped. Before them was Queen Grimhilde, materializing out of thin air with an expression of pure unbridled rage painted across her face.

“You,” she said, pinning Jisung under a sinister glare, “you were supposed to be the receiver of that poison!”

“Poison?” Jisung said, his voice trembling a little. “What poison?”

“The apple, you twit! You were supposed to eat the apple!” The queen looked frustrated, but then her expression began to change, as if she were just realizing something. “However,” the queen said with a smirk, “I will take pleasure in watching you suffer. Because of you, Han Jisung, that boy will die.”

Jisung’s hands shook. He felt tears pooling in his eyes. Minho can’t die, he thought. I won’t let him.

“What will you do, boy?” the queen sneered as if she were reading his mind. “You can’t save him. He will die,” she said, “and it will be all your fault.”

“No!” Jisung screamed. Quick as lightning, he took an arrow from its quiver and fired it at the queen. It grazed her arm, and she cried out in pain. “Insolent boy,” she snarled. “His blood is on your hands, and you dare try to harm me? The one who raised you? The one who gave you a home? I was gracious to you. You are a fool, just like your parents.”

Jisung screamed in rage and shot another arrow at the queen. This time, his luck was better; the arrow lodged itself in the queen’s right forearm. She howled in pain, and for the first time, there was real fear in her eyes. She turned and ran into the woods.

“Go!” Chan shouted at Jisung. “Go after her. Do whatever you have to do. We’ll take care of Minho.”

“Thank you,” Jisung said. “Thank you!”

Jisung chased after the queen, occasionally firing arrows at her. The accuracy of his aim was significantly lower than it was when he was standing still, but he was too enraged to care. Grimhilde had hurt someone he loved. There was no way Jisung was letting her get away with this.

He chased her for what felt like an eternity. He leapt over everything in his path, always keeping Grimhilde in his sight. He had far better stamina than the queen; keeping up with her was no difficult task. He had only one thought in his mind: She will pay. Soon he found that he had chased the queen all the way to the top of a cliff. The rain was coming down in sheets. The queen’s cloak clung to her, and Jisung’s hair stuck to his forehead.

“You have nowhere to run,” Jisung said, aiming an arrow directly at the queen. “Don’t make me shoot. Please. I don’t want any of this.”

The queen sneered. “You are weak,” she said. “You have power on your side, and what do you do? You try to throw it all away. You, boy, are nothing. Just like your father. Just like your mother!”

“NEVER talk about my mother that way!” Jisung screamed. He took a few steps forward, causing the queen to back away from him. She now stood on the edge of the cliff. “She was a good mother,” Jisung yelled. “She was a good queen! She was better than you in every way!”

“This is where you are wrong,” the queen said with a smile. “You see, there is one thing I have that the former queen does not. And that, boy, is life.”

Jisung let out a furious cry and squeezed his eyes shut as he let the arrow loose. He heard it connect with something with a thud, and then he heard a strangled gasp. He opened his eyes and saw that his arrow had hit the queen directly in her chest, piercing her evil heart. There was a shocked expression on the queen’s face. “Y-you—” she choked out. Blood flew from her lips as she spoke. Jisung shot another arrow, this time hitting her shoulder. The queen screamed as she fell backwards off the cliff and into the river below. The rain stopped.

Jisung let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He was calm for a moment, but then he remembered.

Minho.

Jisung ran as fast as humanly possible back to the cottage, where everyone was gathered around Minho. They’d moved beneath the willow tree in order to have some semblance of protection from the rain. It looked as if he were merely sleeping.

The seven of them looked at him with forlorn expressions as he ran to Minho’s side. “How is he?” Jisung asked frantically.

“It—it’s not good,” Changbin spoke up. “We did everything we could, Jisung, but there wasn’t much we could do. We—we couldn’t find his heartbeat.”

“No,” Jisung cried. He knelt down beside Minho and pulled him into his arms. “No, no, he can’t be dead. Minho, you can’t be dead.” Tears rolled down Jisung’s face, mingling with the raindrops already on his skin. He cupped Minho’s face in his hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

As soon as he did so, Minho’s body began to shake. “What the fuck?” Jisung heard someone—Hyunjin, maybe?—whisper. Jisung’s heart hammered. For a full five seconds, Minho shook. His eyes sprung open, and he gasped. Minho, seemingly back from the dead, sat up and stared at Jisung in bewilderment.

Jisung shrieked and wrapped his arms around Minho’s neck, hugging him tightly.

“Can’t breathe,” Minho wheezed. Jisung quickly drew back to find Minho smiling at him. “Hi,” he said quietly.

“YOU WERE DEAD,” Jisung shouted. “It was—oh my God, it was almost my turn to attend your funeral!”

Minho had the audacity to laugh. “Well,” he said, “I didn’t die.”

Jisung laughed and wrapped his arms around Minho, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I’m glad you’re not,” he whispered against his hair.

Minho looked Jisung intently in the eyes. The sun broke through the clouds as Minho brought Jisung close to him and kissed him deeply. The miners cheered. “Finally,” Jeongin shrieked, cackling like a madman. Minho pulled away to laugh, and Jisung smiled. He had never been more happy in his entire life.

“I love you, Han Jisung,” Minho said quietly, eliciting more cheers from Jisung’s family. Jisung smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Minho’s lips.

“I love you.”

One Year Later

Immediately following the death of Queen Grimhilde, Minho took Jisung back to his own kingdom. He knew his parents would be able to help Jisung get control of his own kingdom once again. Thankfully, the majority of Grimhilde’s trade partners were suspicious that the queen may have had malicious intentions, so Jisung was swiftly able to reclaim his place as the ruler of his kingdom, and the ceremony making him the king took place on the day of his twenty-first birthday. Minho was by his side the entire time, along with the miners, who Jisung invited to live in the castle with him. All seven of them were elated.

Minho and Jisung got married six months later. The wedding was grand and extravagant; the kingdom saw it as the best turn of events they could possibly have had: they went from one vicious ruler to two kind ones. Minho’s parents were there, beaming at their son the entire time. Jisung’s family sat in the front row; they were barely able to contain their excitement (especially Jeongin—he’d been waiting for this day since Seungmin first told him about Jisung’s meeting Minho and now that the day was finally here, he could barely contain himself). When they kissed at the end of the ceremony, it was like the first time all over again. He was so happy. From that day forward, he, Minho, and his family would get to be with each other for the rest of their lives.