Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Park Seonghwa bore the burden of a prince and the touch of a reaper. He was as gorgeous as he was deadly, an alluring siren enticing naive sailors to the bow of the ship, helpless but to watch as the fools fell one after the other, their breath taken in the ocean's relentless current and their bodies bound to a coffin comprised of seafoam and waterlogged rot.

The lure lay within his song. An effortless promise whispered like a lover's serenade. Warm and ineffable in its comfort. Illusions, of course. Sirens were as cold-blooded as they came. Born without a beating heart, some said. Certainly it would explain the brutal, merciless way in which they lived.

Park Seonghwa was not a siren, although he may as well have been. 

He had taken more years than he had lived and did little to repent for it. He didn't believe in any god. He knew none would save him from the fate they had forsaken him to. 

Attracted by his wealth, suitors piled one after another, relentlessly clambering over each other trying to capture his attention. Beautiful, rich, and powerful. Seonghwa had it all. 

Even a damned curse.

With skin inhospitable to a warm touch, Seonghwa had spent most of his life hiding. From his kingdom. From court. From his own family. When given a curse as deadly as his, his parents had to ensure he was kept under lock and key. No mishaps. No mistakes. No one must know.

Of course, there were flaws to this plan. The most glaring being that Seonghwa had been betrothed four times, and not once had he wed. As a prince, it was his duty to maintain the image of stability for his kingdom. That meant marrying. To whom? That did not matter. Whoever was wealthy enough to take him.

As his failed engagements continued, rumours began to spiral. Seonghwa’s parents did not like that the rumours skirted the truth. With every letdown, the careful balance Seonghwa walked tilted out of his favour just a little more. No one must know. That was the rule. 

Seonghwa wasn't very good at following rules, but he tried. The fact he now found himself dressed for his fifth wedding was a testament to that.

Seonghwa lived a fairytale. A mystically cruel fate with a wardrobe far too spectacular for a children's fable. White silk twisted around him, ribbed cloth bunched and draped over his porcelain skin, pinned in place by dazzling brooches. In the light, he sparkled, crystal diamonds looped through his ears and interwoven in the very veil he drew over his face.

Certainly, he looked fit for a storybook. He was dressed so beautifully this time he could almost mourn the loss of such a pretty gown. For Seonghwa needed no oracle to predict the outcome of today's arrangement.

Today, just like on every other occasion, Seonghwa would kill his fiance.

There was nothing more he could do; it was a fact as certain as the setting sun. He would wait in his room, and then at the altar, and then for the physician. Seonghwa could recount the steps like it had already happened. Perhaps because it already had. Four times. It was a waltz he knew painfully well. The steps were thoughtless to him now. Seonghwa would weep and shake and wonder if this was truly his last chance. Not at love, but at escaping this forsaken palace in one piece.

Seonghwa wished now that he truly were a siren if only to experience the saltiness of the sea. To carve a space for himself in between the currents, swimming until his eyes stung and his muscles cramped with a paralysing ache. Perhaps being filled full of water, waiting for a bitter end, was the kinder alternative to his stagnant life, endlessly on edge, awaiting the inevitable verdict on how his family might finally unweave him from the ballroom tapestry and rid their hands of the shameful blight he brought upon their name.

When Seonghwa stood before the cathedral doors, he felt only anxiety. He ran the lace of his sleeve between his fingers as he pulled in cool air through his mouth. His lungs filled, stretching the silk in a way that would be disapproved of by his mother if she ever were to see. Luckily, she was hidden among the pews, perched upon polished wood, fluffy pillows tucked underneath her as she no doubt impatiently awaited Seonghwa's arrival.

She'd never been one to glide through life, her veins constantly pulsing with the furious urge to control every possible aspect of the world. So twisted around her own self, her ignorance wounded those unfortunate enough to linger too closely to her presence. 

Once, long before he'd grown to know better, Seonghwa had plucked a bouquet of flowers to present to his mother. He'd deliberated over it for hours — what flowers his mother would like and which were the prettiest — and tied them with a delicate white bow. Excited and unthinking, he'd wrapped his unclothed fingers around the stems and rushed toward where he knew his mother would be having her afternoon tea. 

His eyes lit up the moment he spotted the domed gazebo, tiny feet pushing as fast as they could go. Seonghwa could remember vividly how his heart had pounded. At first, with excitement. Then, fear.

Initially, Seonghwa hadn't understood why his mother had changed on a dime. Her frantic distress and enraged screams made little sense until he'd caught sight of what was left of the bouquet in his hand.

Blackened death had seeped from his fingertips into the once viridescent stem, creeping up and up, infecting every inch until the flowers were sickened with his curse. He took and took, sucking up every dreg of life from the plant. Colour drained from the petals, which crinkled into sad, shrunken flakes that flew away with the wind. Specks of ashen rot were sprinkled across the ground, and in Seonghwa's hand all that remained were the shrivelled shells of withering flowers. 

“Take them! Burn them!” His mother had chanted as if she were casting away an evil spirit, sending servant after servant to cleanse the ground. “I want no such curse in my garden!”

For a moment, when her cruel gaze had met his, Seonghwa had convinced himself she had meant to rid him from the garden, but then the maids had rushed to sweep up the minute pieces of the bouquet Seonghwa hadn't realised had crumbled in his grasp. In his palm, all that remained was a white ribbon, rubbed in the same black grime that lingered like chalk on his fingers.

If there had been any hope that his mother's love for him surpassed that which she held for her garden, it would've been instantly cleared up with that single glance. Hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred for ruining her pride. Like he'd set out to maliciously maim her flowers.

“Take him away!” she cried, completely lost in her own anger, hissing and snarling worse than a crazed animal. 

Although no arms ever came to haul him away, Seonghwa knew instinctively when to draw back. “He is not to enter my garden again, do you hear?” she seethed before turning to face him. 

“And Seonghwa,” The young boy couldn’t even look his mother in the eye, much too afraid of what he might find reflected there. “If I catch you here again, I can assure you that you will never know the warmth of the sun again. Do I make myself clear?”

And so it was to be that only the orchard remained for his wanderings. His room and the orchard, for he wasn't to ruin any more of his mother's precious possessions. She made sure of that.

To be out of the palace now was a rare delicacy. Freedom, though he couldn't say this was quite that, was a taste he didn't get much of. It was to be cherished.

Unfortunately, Seonghwa couldn't hide forever, and although there was no one to spur him on, he knew eventually he must take a step onto the aisle. For Seonghwa, there was no freedom, just the false pretence he would allow himself to entertain for a short while. Realistically, he knew there was nowhere else he could go. With a curse like his, he could only move forward and hope that better things would follow after.

Seonghwa allowed himself one final lingering breath before signalling to the guards to open the doors.

The light that pierced his eyes was blinding. His sheer veil did a poor job shielding him, and Seonghwa had to resist the urge to cover his eyes. He held his spine strong as he took a careful step onto the red carpet, the lilt of violin fading away as he focused on the click of his heels against the floor. One foot. Breathe. Then, the other.

His vision tunnelled, concentrating solely on not tripping over his own two feet in his nervousness. Eventually, the pointed tip of his shoe graced a step, and Seonghwa ascended elegantly until he was standing before his soon-to-be husband.

He was a man of questionable age, plump with a circular belly that left the buttons of his blouse straining, but he did not seem unkind. From what Seonghwa knew about the man, albeit shamefully little, he was not looking to take multiple spouses and seemed like he would treat Seonghwa with decency. Although, he supposed, all of this would matter very little when the man would soon lie dead.

He had lived enough of his life that Seonghwa wouldn't feel terribly guilty when it happened. There was relief to be found in his greying beard and hunched shoulders. All Seonghwa could think as he was called to read his vows was how thankful he was that he wasn't some wide-eyed boy about to have his life stolen.

Seonghwa stiffened when he heard his name called, forcing himself to relax a second later when he recognised the sensation of his veil being lifted over his head. His fiance was a short man, and he struggled to raise it over the top of his head without pulling onto his tiptoes. Subtly, Seonghwa bowed his head, helping throw the long veil over himself. 

The man whispered compliments Seonghwa had heard hundreds of times before and lathered his lips with his tongue, leaving them wet in an unappealing way that had Seonghwa itching to run. His only relief was the knowledge that the man would be dead before his lips ever touched his own.

“Please look at your partner.” The priest's smile was thin as he continued. He knew what was coming just as well as all the other unwilling guests present. “And join your hands in matrimony.”

Weddings were one of the few days Seonghwa was allowed to be without his gloves. It was both nerve-wracking and exhilarating to hold such freedom. He got very little of it in his everyday life. Every brief glimpse sent an unfamiliar thrill through his veins.

As Seonghwa stretched his fingers out, he closed his eyes and imagined what that life might look like. What it would be like visiting the sea whenever he wanted. What it would be like to run his fingers through the mane of a horse or stroke a cat. What was it like to hold someone’s hand?

“—I object!”

Seonghwa pulled his hand back like he had been burnt, eyes wide as he scanned the hall for the source of the commotion. They fell on a man striding his way down the aisle, his boots thudding on the carpet as his leather coat billowed behind him. He seemed entirely unfazed by the gasping crowd and Seonghwa’s spluttering mother alike. 

When the man reached the bottom of the altar, he grinned at Seonghwa, revealing a devilishly charming smile that set Seonghwa's cheeks aflame. Instantly, Seonghwa turned away, settling his gaze on his infuriated mother storming her way over to them, cursing at the useless guards.

“What right do you have to–” 

Suddenly, the man swept back his coat. Pulling off his tricorn hat, the stranger tucked his arm under his chest and bowed dutifully. Seonghwa's eyes flickered between his mother's face of bafflement and the man. 

“Forgive me for my late entrance, Your Majesty,” he said, pulling up from his bow. When the man turned to gaze up at Seonghwa, his spine went rigid, a lick of cold sweat dampening his palms. “It's a pleasure to make your royal acquaintance.”

Although the words he spoke were most certainly directed at his parents, the man's eyes never once lifted from where they were settled upon Seonghwa's figure. His dark, hooded gaze was fixated on Seonghwa so intensely the prince struggled to fight against the rush of embarrassing heat tinting his cheeks. 

“I believe you may have heard of me,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips almost tauntingly. “They call me Pirate King, Kim Hongjoong, Captain of Ateez.”

A loud gasp echoed, but Seonghwa was not even entirely sure he understood what had been said. Instead of scrutiny, his mind replayed the words like they were the sweetest melody. The lyrics of such a song were of little importance in comparison to the way it was sung. Low and thoughtfully careless, nearly flippant. The man had a dangerous tongue. Alongside his innately belittling tone, it was a deadly combination.

“Pirate King?” Seonghwa’s father repeated, coming in front of his mother defensively. It was an action odd enough to draw Seonghwa’s attention. “What business do you have with us?”

The dull clank of metal instantly alerted Seonghwa to the royal guards closing around them, swords pointed and ready for the attack. His body stiffened instinctively, coiling itself tightly together as the air thickened with tension.

“I mean no harm,” the pirate promised, eyeing the royal guard with more amusement than fear. 

“No harm?!” roared the king, voice booming in the gaping chasm of the cathedral. 

In his father's eyes, Seonghwa saw not anger, but something much more akin to shame. It was a look he knew well. To his gaze, the humiliation was unmistakable. Burning. Outraged. Speechless. Seonghwa mused that perhaps he and this pirate weren't all that different. They both seemed perfectly capable of bringing embarrassment upon the crown, after all.

At the thought, Seonghwa glanced at the pirate, shocked to find him staring back. He looked larger than life, standing proud before his parents — head high, shoulders perfectly relaxed. It was like the world bent to his fiery will, the air melding to his shape, whispering awes to the ancient marble.

“Ah,” the pirate exclaimed, like he was chiding his father for losing his temper. A ridiculous thought because his father was the king. The king heeded no reprimand, especially not one from a deviant pirate. “This is holy ground, is it not? How could I do harm in such a divine place?”

Seonghwa found the pirate’s words strange. Surely, he did not truly believe in the gods? He was a pirate, for crying out loud! The word holy wasn't the first Seonghwa thought of when he viewed their merciless pillaging. His father seemed to be having the same conflicting thoughts, the king visibly struggling to command his men back.

In the end, it was his mother — who praised the heavens like it was her saving grace — who forced down the soldier’s swords. She hissed and snapped like a vicious viper, poison seeping into her words until they were bitter and stinging. The soldiers stumbled back gracelessly as if truly running from some feral creature.

The cathedral drew intensely quiet. It was the kind of silence that pulsated in one's ears. The kind most dared not interrupt. Naturally, the pirate did so anyway.

In the deathly tense air, he had the nerve to smile. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” the pirate said. “It is nice to cherish what is sacred.”

Seonghwa saw his mother’s jaw tense, her lips thinning distastefully as her teeth ground against one another. Seonghwa was certain he'd hear the echoing complaints of a terrible toothache later that evening. “I would agree.” The queen nodded, movements stiff and reluctant.

“I don't plan to waste any more time on this fine day, so I'll make this as brief as I can.” The pirate's smile twisted into something grinning, and Seonghwa was certain that, for a fleeting moment, their eyes had locked. A shared wonder that had been gone as soon as it had arrived, leaving Seonghwa to question whether the pirate had looked at him at all. 

“I have spent my life sailing the seven seas, chasing the most spectacular treasures man has to offer, but none — not even the ocean itself — has ever captivated me the way His Highness, Prince Seonghwa, has.”

No. Seonghwa was horrifically certain now. The pirate was looking at him.

“I had decided when I felt my heart tug like none before that I must have him,” he continued, eyes shining brighter than every twinkling star in the night sky.

Certainly this wasn't right. The pirate surely couldn't be talking about him. They'd never even met before! Of that, he had no doubt.

When the king spoke, his voice was thunderous and tight, desperate to cling onto a command he felt lost to his wife. “What are you proposing?” he asked. A question that seemed to overjoy the pirate.

By the time Seonghwa had processed what was happening, the pirate was mere steps from him. Raw, blazing panic seared through his veins, igniting his body in an encompassing inferno that threatened to turn his beautiful gown to cinders. 

Seonghwa knew he looked like a mess. His eyes were wide with surprise, and his face was unnaturally red. He was probably flushed head to toe too, down to his fingertips. It was not a very flattering look. Oddly, the pirate did not seem to care. His eyes were rounded, like they'd grown in size purely to capture more of the moment — to drink in more of Seonghwa.

Seonghwa was used to that look. Or, at least, the more common variation of it that countless suitors directed at him. But coming from him — this unruly pirate — it seemed infinitely different. Maybe it wasn't the same look at all. Maybe this truly was something new. Something unknown. The thought was as terrifying as it was thrilling.

The very action of locking eyes seemed to make the pirate happy as he kicked up onto the last step with a little extra enthusiasm. Haphazardly, the pirate slapped a hand over his fiance’s face, shoving the man back with an effortless strength that had his fiance fumbling over himself to stay upright. Seonghwa's fiance, who he had admittedly forgotten was there, scuttled off without a word, proverbial tail tucked between his legs.

Rather suddenly, the pirate was before him at the altar. He stroked one of his gloved fingers down the side of Seonghwa’s face, catching a stray piece of hair and tucking it back behind his ear.

The pirate pulled away before Seonghwa could flinch back, leaving a cold shiver in his wake. He teased a self-satisfied smirk onto his lips, eyes scanning Seonghwa’s flaming face with uncomfortable intensity. 

“Yes,” the pirate said softly. Then, much louder for the immense crowd before them, he said, “I suppose I am proposing. That is correct, Your Majesty.”

Chapter Text

Spring songbirds tweeted sweet melodies in the lush, green canopy above. They were tiny things, easily camouflaged behind thick branches the colour of their coats. They hopped happily from tree to tree, singing as they showered Seonghwa in the cold morning dew they shook from the leaves.

Seonghwa swiped away a drop that landed on his cheek and sighed softly. He had a particular fondness towards the birds. They seemed the only creature capable of joy when met with his presence. It was mostly indifference that kept them singing, a confidence that they were too high in the canopy for Seonghwa to be of any real threat. Nevertheless, Seonghwa would forever be grateful for their uncaring companionship.

They preferred to lay nests in the tall, looping trees with unruly branches and curved, waxy leaves. The type his mother thought so ugly she refused to let them taint her gardens. ‘A great misfortune,’ the gardener had told a young Seonghwa when he'd mentioned the sudden quietness in the orchard.

Seonghwa thought it a shame the only place they were now allowed to occupy within the city was the sacred ground surrounding the cathedral. A place so holy his mother's word held no weight. A place Seonghwa hated too much to ever willingly step inside.

It was only now, as he led the pirate away from the wedding party, deeper into holy ground, that he was truly thankful for their encouraging choir. 

He'd quickly captured him after the priest had called for a brief intermission. The poor man had been so thoroughly confused by the fiasco that he’d scurried off into whatever divine room priests went to to pray away their problems and left everyone else in stagnant confusion. Seonghwa had little belief that he would return very soon and took advantage of the general chaos amongst the guests to slip into the overgrowth unnoticed.

Seonghwa knew logically that he shouldn't run off with a pirate — his pounding heart told him as much — but he didn't think that he would hurt him. Although he was yet to learn of it, Seonghwa was certain the pirate must have some motive. Some driving force that meant he needed Seonghwa alive. Why else stir up such turmoil? There had to be something Seonghwa was missing.

They passed over a low bridge. The wood was slick with moss and stray droplets from the babbling stream underneath. Seonghwa did his best not to slip. Just after was a small clearing, dense with the same twisty trees his mother hates so, where a blooming green glow illuminated the damp earth below. It smelt distinctly of petrichor, likely from the brief downpour Seonghwa had heard when he was getting ready that morning, and he took a hesitant step forward. 

The ground was squishy, a pillow of sinking brown mud begging to swallow his heels whole. A relieved breath rushed from him the moment he noticed a few scattered slabs of stone wedged into the ground. A worn path, cracked and sunken, but one that would keep his shoes on his feet. 

Carefully, Seonghwa leapt from the wooden bridge, landing clumsily on the first slab. The next few were closer together, and he hopped determinedly until he was far enough into the clearing that the dense trees would blanket any conversation they may wish to have.

A deep laugh filled his ears. Seonghwa turned sharply, eyeing the pirate as he carelessly stomped the squelching mud underfoot. “Has something amused you?” Seonghwa asked, chin high, lips taut.  

“You could say that.” Smirked the pirate, stopping a few paces in front of Seonghwa. “Have you thought much about my proposal?”

Seonghwa looked at the man for a few moments, considering him. Without his obnoxious hat, the pirate was noticeably shorter than Seonghwa. There was a slit in his brow, a slash of scarred tissue running into his eyelid, and a heap of long, messy hair splattered on top of his head. It should definitely not have looked as good as it did, but he managed to pull off the roguish look devastatingly well.

“I have thought some,” Seonghwa replied eventually, “and the more I have thought, the more it does not make sense.”

The pirate's head tilted, not quite understanding. “Sure it does,” he insisted. Although his grin remained, Seonghwa had seen a twitch of irritation in his response. “Your beauty is as bewitching as a siren's song.”

Seonghwa frowned. The man spoke nonsense. If he thought to butter him up with shallow words, then he was sorely mistaken. “There is no crowd here to appease. Your flowery words do not flatter me.”

“Then that is a shame.” The pirate nodded, looking reluctant to relinquish his embellished vocabulary. “I would have spoken them to an audience of none.”

Immediately, Seonghwa’s frown twisted into a sharp scowl. Did the pirate find it amusing to mess with his head? Perhaps that was his plan: thread confusion into his very brain matter, then lie in wait for madness. He’d have to wait a rather long time, Seonghwa mused to himself. He was nothing if not stubborn.

Taking a deep breath, Seonghwa’s fingers curled into tight fists at his side, nails carving merciless crescents into the soft skin. “What do you want with me, pirate?” he demanded, his patience wearing thin. “Surely you do not mean to actually marry me.”

There wasn't a single slither of doubt in Seonghwa’s mind. There had to be something more to this pirate. A motive. It didn't make sense otherwise. No matter what the pirate said, Seonghwa knew he wasn't beautiful enough to sway the head of a pirate, much less one they called a king, without reason. Money? Power? What was it?

“No,” admitted the pirate with a sigh. 

Seonghwa’s fingers released, and his tight shoulders slumped. He was right. Of course he was right. Seonghwa bit his lip to suppress a bitter laugh.

“No, I just needed a moment alone with you. Although…” The pirate's eyes travelled the length of Seonghwa's body, igniting little fires everywhere they traced. “I would not have minded.”

Unfamiliar heat raced up Seonghwa’s neck as confusion contorted his face. His reaction must be hilarious because the pirate howled out bouts of laughter that he supposedly could not contain.

Seonghwa didn’t think he’d ever understand pirates. By all accounts, it seemed like the man was flirting with him. But surely that was not the case. He had just confessed everything to be a lie, hadn’t he? No. What had he said again? He needed to be alone with him?

Before Seonghwa could ponder on the thought a moment longer, a hand reached for him. Seonghwa swiftly jerked his body away, narrowly avoiding contact. Unfortunately, Seonghwa lost his footing, and he went stumbling a few paces, his arms helplessly flapping around as he desperately tried to regain his balance on the small stone.

When Seonghwa felt his fumbling halt, he was creased in half, arms spread wide with his feet crossed over each other. That rumbling laugh crept into the air once more, a sound Seonghwa was beginning to detest, and a gentlemanly hand rested palm up in front of his face. Seonghwa glared at it for a moment before turning his pointed stare up.

“Need a hand?” The pirate smirked.

Seonghwa’s lips thinned as he unwound his body from the tight mess of limbs he was stuck in. Blatantly ignoring the outstretched hand the pirate thought himself so gracious as to provide, Seonghwa straightened himself once more. 

“I wouldn't touch me so carelessly if I were you,” replied Seonghwa, brushing his hands down his rumpled gown.

It was silent for a moment. Seonghwa knew the pirate was watching him. He could feel the weighted heat of his gaze settle into his skin as he went through the motions of fixing his less than perfect appearance.

When the pirate spoke again, it was into settled air. The kind one was careful not to disturb. The result was quiet — gentle — almost painfully genuine. A sound that may not have disrupted the tense air between them but certainly rattled Seonghwa to his very core.

“Your touch does not scare me, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa blinked, frozen in disbelief before he could shake himself back into consciousness. “It should,” he warned, mouth dry. “You don't know. It might— it will—”

“—Kill me?” the pirate interjected, a knowing look glinting in his dark eyes.

Immediately, Seonghwa tensed. “H-How did you…?”

“I hear many interesting tales on the sea,” he answered, taking a step forward. “It seems this one—” A hand shot forward. 

Seonghwa had little more than a second to jump back. His feet stumbled, but Seonghwa did not again lose his balance. He clutched his hands close to his chest. They shook against his thudding heart, and his dress strained under the pressure of his rapid breaths. “I'm serious, don't touch me,” Seonghwa repeated, looking distrustfully at the pirate.

“—is true,” the pirate finished, grinning so wide that he revealed his pointed canines. “How perfect,” he muttered, eyeing Seonghwa like he was the most wondrous caged bird he’d ever seen.

Being subject to such a strange stare made Seonghwa uncomfortable, his skin itching to hide away from his enchanted eyes and toothy smile as soon as possible. No. More than that. Seonghwa wanted to wipe them from his memory — pretend the pirate hadn’t looked at him like that. It was much too strange. It was almost terrifying how fast his heart beat at the sight.

Looking away quickly, Seonghwa continued his questioning. “What have you heard about me?”

“Many things.” Shrugged the pirate. “Mostly of your divine beauty. A face sculpted with a hand so careful that—”

“Stop, stop!” Seonghwa demanded, face flushing red. Truly, he could not take a second more of his pretty words. “No more of that,” he scolded.

“I've never met a prince less fond of compliments,” laughed the pirate, taking great joy from Seonghwa’s embarrassment.

“Compliments from a pirate,” Seonghwa snapped back, shooting the man a look that said he was not amused. “I doubt any prince would appreciate such a thing.”

Unbothered, the pirate just smirked. “You would be surprised.”

Seonghwa’s teeth clenched so tightly that his jaw ached, his arms locked where they were hugging his body. “Surprised by your impertinence perhaps,” he bit out, his voice sharp and reluctant.

For a few moments, their eyes met in an unrelenting contest. Seonghwa refused to look away first. He wouldn't give the pirate the satisfaction. Seonghwa was certain his face was riddled in tight lines, his skin creased in displeasure as his stubborn frown deepened. If his mother were here, she’d no doubt subject him to a stern lecture. Never was Seonghwa allowed to frown. Perhaps that was why it now seemed stuck to his face.

With a defeated sigh, the pirate resigned his gaze. “I've heard plenty of you over the years. Good. Bad,” he said, the tension between them settling into something much more breathable. “Out there, they call you the Prince of Death, did you know? Rumour has it, everything you touch becomes infected with death.”

“Prince of Death?” Seonghwa repeated, unable to hide the pang of tight pain gripping his heart. It wasn't like he wanted to be cursed.

“It's spoken more with envy than fear.” The pirate added with a kind smile. 

Seonghwa supposed the man thought the knowledge would clear Seonghwa of the evident sadness racking through him. It did not. If anything, it only made Seonghwa frown more.

“If you know all of this, why touch me at all?” asked Seonghwa. “Gloved or not, I'm as good as a plague.”

To those who knew, Seonghwa was a walking disease, best steered clear of. To those who didn't, he was as untouchable as the divine rites, so holy he wasn't allowed so much as a finger upon his perfectly porcelain skin.

“You're certainly no plague, Seonghwa.” The pirate chuckled, as if his words were just a joke. “You are all I've been looking for. You're perfect.” 

A look of pure confusion washed over Seonghwa. This is the Pirate King, he reminded himself. If he was complimenting him, there must’ve been a reason — some tangled double meaning lost in translation. If he was here right now, he needed something from him.

“Perfect for what?” Seonghwa asked carefully, sceptically eyeing the other man.

The pirate's face slowly tightened, an entertained look setting in his eyes. “A very good question,” he said, his voice lowering into something husky and dangerous. “Truthfully, I come here with but one simple request.” The pirate smiled, almost as a reassurance, and outstretched a single palm. “I need you to hold my hand.” 

“What?” Seonghwa gaped, brows creasing together as the puzzle pieces began to slot together in his head. “But that will…” 

“Yes, Seonghwa.” He nodded in confirmation. “Kill me, and I will break your curse.”

Seonghwa froze, limbs stiffening in place. He stood lifeless as the staggering revelation echoed in his mind. If there was any sense to be found, it was lost to him. He wanted Seonghwa to kill him? For what? He would break his curse? Was this some sick joke? Did he think Seonghwa's curse was a worthy punchline to mock and laugh at? Was that what this was?

Seonghwa took a deep breath, his vision blurring from the dizzying circles his mind ran in, and took a careful step onto the stone behind him.

“Two birds, one stone. What do you say, Your Highness?” The pirate's voice sent a chill down his spine, and in an instant Seonghwa knew he needed to get away.

Before the pirate could grab him, Seonghwa twisted on his heel and swiftly hopped the stones back to the bridge, only pausing when he felt his balance waver. On one of the last steps, his foot landed awkwardly, sending him stumbling forward. Seonghwa closed his eyes, preparing to land face first in a heap of stinking mud.

Only, impact never arrived. A quick hand grabbed his waist, catching him in a tight, unrelenting grip that held Seonghwa completely still. He blinked, unbelieving for a few moments until he registered the warmth radiating through the layers of fabric between skin. Immediately, he panicked, writhing stubbornly against the firm grasp. 

Unfortunately, that genius plan only worked to tighten the hold on his waist. “Just listen,” the pirate huffed in his ear, evidently annoyed.

Seonghwa felt seared by the closeness. Never in his twenty-three years of life had he ever been so close to another person. It was uncomfortably intimate. The way his body heat swathed Seonghwa’s cold body like a blanket made his heart race so fast he couldn't attribute it to only pure panic.

“I don’t see the need,” said Seonghwa, biting his lip in an attempt to ground himself. “I won’t kill you.”

“Why?” the pirate asked, pulling Seonghwa up to his feet. “I'm just a pirate.” Seonghwa took a large step back, finally able to breathe now that they had space between them. “You should be jumping at this chance.”

Whatever relief or thankfulness Seonghwa might've felt toward the pirate for saving him instantly vanished. With one single exclamation, the pirate had made it very clear he viewed Seonghwa just as everyone else did. There was no consideration or thought to his words. He did not know Seonghwa, and he did not try to understand; he purely wanted that which Seonghwa could give him. 

In the end, he was the same. Be it his wealth, his autonomy, or his curse. They all wanted something from him. That was always the way it was.

“To what? Kill you?” Seonghwa spat, frustration bubbling inside him so ferociously that his mouth erupted with molten anger. “Don't insult me.” Seonghwa glowered, eyes growing glassy from the overwhelming swell of emotions knotting together in his throat. “I may be cursed, but I am not a monster.” 

The pirate's eyes grew wide, evidently surprised by Seonghwa's outburst. “No— Look, I'm sorry.”

“I don’t care how sorry you are.” Seonghwa shook his head, turning away. “We are done here.”

Panicked, the pirate watched Seonghwa hop onto the bridge. All his previous amusement from just minutes prior had been wiped from his face, replaced with a clawing desperation to recapture the prince’s attention. 

“What about your curse?!”

The sudden exclamation caused Seonghwa to pause. It took only a moment for him to shake away the silly promise circling his head. This was a pirate. He was lying. 

“I don't care,” he replied curtly.

“Yes, you do,” the pirate insisted, voice shifting into something all-knowing. He wanted intrigue. He wanted pause. He wanted Seonghwa to linger and second-guess. “I know you do.”

But Seonghwa refused to give him that. 

“How can you? You don't know me,” Seonghwa bit out, irritation seeping into his clipped voice. “I will not kill you. You cannot break my curse. End of discussion,” he said, firm and stubborn. “Now, if that is all, I have a wedding to attend.” 

“It's… It's my family,” the pirate said, unnaturally quiet. Seonghwa’s foot halted, shaken by his voice. It sounded almost… delicate. The kind of thing that, if spoken too strongly, might break. Call him naive, but when the pirate spoke, his heartbreak sounded real. “He has my family.”

Seonghwa bit the inside of his cheek, turning only slightly so he could catch the pirate's expression in his peripheral vision. He didn't look like an especially callous felon, nor the dangerous man he'd introduced himself as. Here, like this, the great Pirate King looked completely and utterly lost.

“Who?” Seonghwa asked against his better judgement.

The pirate winced, looking around reluctantly before whispering, “The god of death.”

Sighing, Seonghwa turned his back to the pirate once more. “Gods do not exist,” he said. “Killing yourself will not save them.”

“Yes, that is why I need you,” the pirate rushed to explain. 

Seonghwa paid him no further mind. If the pirate wished to die, he could do so without Seonghwa's interference. The man was a fool. No god would help him because they most certainly did not exist. If death had claimed his family, nobody — not even the most powerful mages — could help him.

As sad as it was, it was better to accept it now. Wounds that refused to close would begin to fester, after all.

“Goodbye, pirate.”

When the moon rose, it was full. Seonghwa couldn't help but stare at its soft glow as he recounted his disaster of a day. He wished he were anywhere else. That what had happened had happened to anyone else.

Because now, even more so than before, Seonghwa was trapped. His fiance, terrified, had outright refused to marry Seonghwa, certain the Pirate King would come for his neck. Hearing the news should've been relieving — one less body to add to his death count — but it filled him with deep-set worry. He felt it. Things were beginning to change. Time for him was running out.

When he'd returned to the cathedral, nobody had spoken a word to him. He'd been completely shunned, forced to trail after his mother’s shadow and listen to her profess her utmost apologies for his juvenile behaviour. Because, naturally, the fault was his.

And if the fault fell onto him, then so too did his parents' divine punishment. For the next two weeks, Seonghwa wasn't to leave his room. 'They could no longer trust him to represent their name in public,' his father had said. As if Seonghwa had any sway in the nonsensical actions of the Pirate King.

No matter, it was made starkly clear that, for the next two weeks, the sky was to be his only companion. 

Seonghwa jumped at the sudden sound of knocking on the glass doors of his balcony. Immediately, he frowned. They were four floors high. How could someone be on his balcony? 

Cautiously, he stepped into the moonlight. Peering through the small gap in his curtains, Seonghwa expected to see some mythical beast coming to lure him to his death. Instead, he found the most colourful bird he had ever seen.

Its hooked, bulbous beak pecked at the glass, tapping in an insistent pattern until it caught sight of Seonghwa and tilted its curious head, almost as if it recognised him. The creature’s feathers were beautiful. Bright red, mostly, but its wings burst with blooming yellow and green feathers, slowly transforming into cerulean tail feathers that shook with glee at Seonghwa's attention.

The cute action brought Seonghwa's eyes low enough to notice something attached to the bird. Thin, brown string was strewn around one of its black, leathery legs. Seonghwa squinted and drew back the curtain as curiosity claimed him. 

The bird shifted, ruffling its magnificent coat of feathers and showering much needed moonlight on its foot. It was then Seonghwa recognised what it was. A note.

Intrigued, Seonghwa pulled to his feet and unlocked the door, allowing the peculiar creature to hop inside. He crouched down and carefully began to unhook the note strapped around the bird's leg. Suddenly, a dark shadow fell over him. Confused, Seonghwa looked up, and there, standing in a halo of moonlight, was none other than that fool of a Pirate King.

A wide, teasing grin spread across his lips as their eyes locked together. Seonghwa was so stunned by his appearance that he could do nothing but blink stupidly at the pirate for a few long moments.

Something sheepish, bordering shy, crossed the man's expression as he said, “Don't close the door.” 

Immediately, Seonghwa rushed for the door handle, a bucket of cold clarity washing over him in an instant. He pulled the door as fast as he could, but before it could slam closed, the pirate jammed his arm between the gap.

Seonghwa let out a gasp of horror. The pirate only grunted and wrapped his free hand around the glass door, pushing forward with frightening strength that Seonghwa’s weak limbs instantly gave in to.

Seonghwa could do little more than take a few staggering steps back, his breath ragged as his mind raced. His heart pounded painfully hard, his chest unfit for such a weighted rhythm, and sweat dripped from his slick skin.

“Fuck, that hurts,” the pirate cursed, shaking his arm as if it were some bothersome cramp. His boots thumped against his polished floor as he drew closer, the sound echoing in Seonghwa’s sparse, silent room.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Seonghwa balled his clammy hands into fists and forced down his fear. He found that anger was a much easier alternative. 

“Why would you do that?” Seonghwa hissed. “Are you insane?”

“Yes, quite,” mused the pirate, his grimacing face smoothing into something cooler and infinitely more smug. “I think the fact I am here right now is rather telling, no?”

The prince shook his head in disbelief. “You need to leave,” Seonghwa said, backing away from the pirate’s daunting figure. “Now.”

“But I just got here.” The pirate pouted, the action more mocking than anything.

Seonghwa stiffened, pulling himself a bit taller. “Get out before I call the guards.”

The pirate's pout puffed into a childish frown. “Just a second, okay? This will be quick, I promise.”

Seonghwa opened his mouth, preparing another dismissive demand, when he was quickly cut off.

“I needed to show you this,” the pirate said, pulling out a golden sandglass. It was a simple thing. No bedazzled jewels nor intricate carvings in sight. The sand was pale, almost white, and the gold was sullen and unremarkable. It looked every bit as underwhelming as it felt.

“An hourglass?” Seonghwa scowled, unimpressed.

The pirate held it up, high enough for it to glint in the moonlight. The sand shone like tiny, caged stars as he flipped it in his hand. “Yes,” he answered with a smirk, watching the sand fall for a few moments before darting forward.

By the time Seonghwa’s brain registered what was happening, he was already wrapped in the pirate’s tight grasp. His strong arms enveloped Seonghwa, holding him still. It felt like he was made of metal. No matter Seonghwa’s struggle, the man remained firm.

“No!” Seonghwa cried helplessly as the man leaned forward, pressing his surprisingly soft lips into the hollow of his cheek. The warmth was shocking, slowly melting the skin between them until Seonghwa felt drained and weak. A gasp fell from his lips, horror dawning in his eyes as he met with the startlingly soft expression staring back at him. 

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Seonghwa,” the pirate mumbled against his skin, eyes growing tired as his limbs finally grew slack around him. 

Strangely, Seonghwa felt it too. His muscles relaxed as the fight fled out of him. His outrage and terror bled into a sleepy haze as his brain became too foggy to recall what he'd been so worked up over. Then, he felt a heavy weight against him, dragging him down, down, down — deeper and deeper — until he fell into a perpetual freefall.

Chapter Text

Falling felt like hellfire. Itching specks of flaming ash scuttled over his skin, searing every inch until Seonghwa feared his flesh might've wholly burnt away, leaving him with only his skeletal shell. If, by some miracle, it hadn't, he was sure the hot wind batting his body around like a ragdoll was doing a fine job of tearing at his skin, beating him until he bloomed purple.

It was excruciating. Hot all over. Pain all over. Seonghwa felt so frail from the repeated abuse that, when he smacked into the solid ground, he couldn't bring himself to rise.

He lay completely still, unsure if his heart was even beating. Seonghwa didn't hurt anymore — he hadn't been hurting for a while now — but he still lay with the memory of pain. It ghosted over his skin, pricking and prodding, buzzing with heightened sensitivity. There was no strength left to blink and no energy to exert small, pointless movements, so he stayed trapped in a strange in-between of sleep and consciousness. 

When he finally came to, Seonghwa was confused. He blinked up at a dark, cloudless sky and shivered. Gracelessly, Seonghwa rolled onto his side with a loud groan. His body felt numb and sore, but he pushed himself up on shaky arms anyway.

The soil beneath his fingers was hard and dry, the grass so brittle it bordered on sharp as it pierced his tingling skin. Seonghwa winced at the sensation, pulling his hands back quickly as he slumped down on a small patch of grassless dirt.

“Where…” Seonghwa couldn’t help but blink at the colourless surroundings in bewilderment. “...am I?”

An echoing laugh resounded, causing Seonghwa to flinch. His eyes instantly flickered across the monotone plains in a desperate search. 

There was really nothing here. A large, jagged rock wall blocked his view of most of anything. There was a small mound of white with a withering tree struggling to cling to life on top, but other than that… Oh?

Seonghwa's eyes suddenly snagged on something behind him. A fast, dark movement he barely caught. He turned, surprised to find a dull, grey river flowing silently. With so much water, Seonghwa found the lack of noise peculiar. In fact, now that he thought of it, it was eerily quiet. There was no breeze, he realised now. That haunting wind he'd felt during his descent seemingly vanished. No babbling. No rustling. Nothing but— another laugh echoed, and this time Seonghwa was quick enough to catch it, his head snapping at the right instant to lock eyes with that fool of a pirate.

“You found me.” He grinned, boots filling the air with sound as they thud against the hard ground, crushing the pricking blades of grass underfoot.

“You,” Seonghwa hissed, hurrying to pull himself onto his feet, uncaring for how weak he still felt. “You tricked me!” he yelled, seething.

“And I was rather good at it, no?” Smug, the pirate sent him an infuriating wink.

Despite himself, Seonghwa couldn't help the way his entire body flushed red. “T-That was…” He shook his head quickly, dispelling the memory. “Never mind.”

“For a prince, you are very easy to tease,” remarked the pirate, bringing an instant frown to Seonghwa's boiling face. “It’s rather funny, actually.”

“I wonder if you'll still be finding it funny once the king makes you pay for kidnapping a prince,” Seonghwa retorted, folding his arms over himself defensively.

”Kidnapped?” repeated the pirate, thinking for a moment or two before his eyebrows shot up in realisation. “Oh, you think I kidnapped you?” he exclaimed. A bout of laughter broke from between his lips, making Seonghwa square his shoulders. “Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but we're dead.”

“Dead?” Seonghwa frowned.

The pirate's hands flung out, wide and deceitfully friendly. “Welcome to the Underworld, Your Highness.” He bowed. “I'm quite sure you'll love it here.”

“No…” Seonghwa shook his head in disbelief. 

How could he have died? There was the bird, he recalled. That was how the pirate had forced himself in. Then, he caught him and kissed his cheek. Then… his mind drew a blank. No, that couldn't be all. Think! Think!

Seonghwa's mind ached, a dull throb forming in his head as he strained to remember the foggy memories of the night prior. Again and again, he reviewed the events and came up blank. It wasn't until his eyes caught a twinkling something in the pirate’s pocket that he remembered how he'd made such an extreme show of flipping his sandglass.

“That!” he suddenly shouted, causing the pirate to blink at him funnily. “That hourglass!” Seonghwa clarified, taking long strides toward the pirate and demanding, “You need to take me back right now.”

The pirate raised a challenging brow. “Do I?”

“Yes!” Seonghwa huffed. “I'm not supposed to be here. I don't even know how I died, but I'm sure it has something to do with that hourglass.”

A slow, smirking smile crept upon the pirate's face. “Sharper than I thought,” he remarked, eyes shining with some unnerving mix of intrigue and amusement. “But not quite sharp enough to put two and two together.”

Immediately, Seonghwa stiffened, his earlier rage-filled confidence flooding out of him. “What do you mean?” he asked slowly, taking careful steps back. One foot behind the other.

“I mean—” The pirate, seeming to notice Seonghwa's slow escape, took a large step forward, instantly too close to Seonghwa. “That hourglass is the reason you are dead. It cannot save you, and neither can I,” he said, voice firm and without room for argument. Seonghwa’s head spun, distracting him so much that he almost failed to catch the pirate’s words as he mumbled, “At least, not until the next full moon.”

“The next full moon?” Seonghwa repeated in shock. “But that's not for thirty days!” 

“Twenty nine, actually,” the pirate corrected unhelpfully.

Seonghwa’s mind scrambled for sanity, but he was quickly losing control of his panic. He was already running on borrowed time. Seonghwa needed to fix whatever mess the pirate had caused before things got worse. He had to marry. He had to gain his parent's favour. He had to redeem himself before it was too late and he was left without a future to return to.

“No, I can't wait,” Seonghwa decided, gritting his teeth. “If… If you won't help me, I'll find my own way out!”

“Your own way out?” Frowned the pirate, straightening the cuffs of his heavy coat. Seonghwa followed the moment with his eyes, watching his tanned fingers tug mindlessly on the fabric until his gaze was pulled away by the man's tense voice. 

“Fine,” the pirate said, his lips thin, clearly holding back some abundance of distasteful words. “Go ahead.” There was a bitterness in his voice. Something final and angry that hadn't been there before. “Let's see how long your soul lasts without me.” He sounded irritatingly mocking, entirely dismissive, like he thought of Seonghwa as some weak thing, incapable and defenceless without his help. All Seonghwa gave in response was a loud, frustrated scoff.

Infuriated, Seonghwa turned on his heel and stormed off, determined to leave the pirate far behind him. Without much choice, Seonghwa decided to follow the strange river toward where the dead tree rested on that peculiar white mound of dirt. It wasn't alive, but it was the closest thing to it beside himself and that horrid pirate, so it was better than nothing.

Distantly, he could hear some clamorous racket behind him. Despite his curiosity, Seonghwa had convinced himself that looking would be akin to allowing the pirate to win, and he couldn't allow that. Win what? Well, Seonghwa wasn't entirely sure. He just knew he couldn’t allow the man the satisfaction.

Seonghwa was pulled from his thoughts by a sickening crunch underfoot. He jumped back, eyes wide and frantic as he scanned the floor. Unknowingly, he'd stumbled upon the edge of the white mound, treading carelessly over what he now realised were bones. Lots and lots of bones. All buried beneath the crooked, lifeless tree.

Twisting nausea stirred in his stomach, and Seonghwa held himself tightly in horror, feet stumbling back and back until he hit something hard. Finally, he tore his eyes away, hoping against all the odds that he hadn't hit a skull. Unfortunately, what he found against his foot was much, much worse.

A ghoulish creature dripping in white mist that gave the illusion of wetness shrieked as it lunged forward out of the river. Its piercing wail sent a sharp pang of pain through Seonghwa's body, making him wince and jerk away a little too slowly. The creature's sharp talons shredded the silk leg of his pyjama bottoms and clawed in, tearing his pale flesh until it bloomed with dark, gushing blood.

Seonghwa cried out in pain, teeth grinding together as he fought away accumulating tears. He tried to pull back his leg, but the agonising hurt was unbearable, and he fell on his side with a loud thud as the creature began tugging harshly, dragging his limp body away.

“No, please!” Seonghwa gasped out weakly, fingernails digging into the hard dirt in his effort to claw away. It was no use. The soil upturned and crumbled beneath his grasp, allowing him to be dragged further and further. “Someone, please! I-I can't—” 

A tortured sound choked off his voice, his cry scratchy and sore as it tore its way from his throat. Pounding footsteps filled his ears, the swift unsheathing of something sharp and metal ringing before a dying screech resounded and the tugging finally stopped.

Seonghwa huffed, exhausted and weak, heart thumping with an aching rhythm. He opened his eyes just in time to see the pirate crouched in front of him, tearing a sleeve off of his pale blouse. He ripped apart the fabric effortlessly, long, tense muscles pulsating under warm skin as he pulled his arm free, an angry frown sunken into his face.

When the pirate's gaze shifted, Seonghwa followed the movement, eyes trailing after curiously. For once, Seonghwa regretted giving in to his curiosity. The moment he met what had captured the pirate’s focus, his heart fell out of his chest. Sickness churned inside him, something acrid rising in his throat at the sight of his mangled leg. 

Clutched onto him, curled and sinking, was the amputated arm of the creature. Black blood slipped from its sliced flesh, mist sizzling into the still air with a vicious hiss. It was a clean cut. Quick and easy, unlike the mess his leg was left in. 

The fabric of his trousers was torn from the knee down, revealing his mutilated leg. Blood trickled from him in a never-ending stream, leaving his leg slick and scarlet. The metallic scent was overpowering, stuffing his nose with an inescapable terror that reminded him of his pain repeatedly. Seonghwa hadn't a clue how this could possibly be fixed. His skin was practically peeled back, revealing the fleshy pink stuff Seonghwa had no doubt was already riddled with infection.

He wanted to cry but instead helplessly exclaimed, “There's a hand in my leg!” Seonghwa's voice was hoarse, and he was evidently exhausted from earlier exertions, but he tried to pull himself up anyway.

A sudden hand on his shoulder halted his movements instantly. “Calm down,” the pirate grumbled, pushing him back down. “I'm dealing with it.” Seonghwa squinted at him distrustfully, but he couldn't fight long against the pirate's strength and quickly found himself on his back. 

“This doesn't mean I forgive you,” Seonghwa mumbled, a small groan leaving his lips as the pirate tugged off his ruined slipper.

“I know,” he replied, gaze unflinchingly focused as he began working away at Seonghwa’s wound.

“And I certainly don't like you.”

“Sure.” The pirate nodded, twisting the metal cap of a flask he'd dug from the pocket of his discarded coat.

“And—” 

A shrill, guttural scream ripped from Seonghwa as an invisible flame erupted, spontaneously engulfing his leg in an unbearable heat. He was burning. His skin felt like it was melting off his bones, pooling into a molten pile of sludge around his leg. It was excruciating. Seonghwa couldn't stop the loud, pathetic whimpers that fell from his lips as he squirmed in a desperate attempt to escape the fire quickly consuming him.

Seonghwa panted frantically, tongue salty from stray tears, as he worked through the pain. He was certain he blacked out at least three times before the pain became bearable enough for him to curse out the pirate.

“What the fuck was that?” Seonghwa snapped. His voice was seething, but his eyes were even sharper.

“Just some liquor,” answered the pirate unremorsefully. “Calm down, sweetheart.”

“Don't call me that.” Seonghwa bristled. “You're trying to kill me!”

Ignoring the idiotic remark completely, the pirate merely said, “Alright, deep breath for me.”

“Wha—” A choked cry burst from Seonghwa's lips as another blinding burst of pain tore through him.

This was it, he thought. The agony was too much to handle. This really was the end.

Despite his utmost certainty, the pirate did not kill Seonghwa a second time. Although it certainly felt like it when he caused another torturous bout of pain to spread over his leg. Seonghwa felt like setting his socks on fire. He wondered how much the pirate would enjoy that turn of events. Hopefully as much as Seonghwa did, which was to say not at all. Seonghwa’s anger was only eased when the pirate rubbed something cold over his leg, lessening his pain by a small fraction.

“I hate you…” Seonghwa huffed. He was utterly defeated, barely able to garner enough strength to glare. “I really hate you.”

The smile directed at him in response was frustratingly charming. “Glad to hear it,” he replied. “Nearly done now. Just going to wrap you up.”

Completely drained, Seonghwa allowed the pirate to finish tying his torn blouse around his wound without a fight. His eyes fluttered sleepily as he mindlessly watched the subtle changes in the pirate’s expression as he worked. Like this, Seonghwa could almost believe he wasn’t an asshole.

After fixing him up, the pirate tugged on his coat and lugged Seonghwa onto his back in spite of the prince's quiet objections. Seonghwa clung to his neck, grunting softly when the throbbing stabbed into him a little harder, and resigned himself to his humiliating fate.

It was a shorter walk than Seonghwa remembered back to where he'd stormed off from. Seonghwa blinked lazily at the mess lying where he remembered a flat patch of hard dirt.

“What is this?” Seonghwa asked, slipping off the pirate's back and taking a seat on the prickly grass. It pierced him; Seonghwa knew it did, but he didn't feel it. The pain made him oddly numb to anything else.

“This?” The pirate gestured to the mess in front of them with a small, confused frown. 

Seonghwa nodded, tilting his head to peer around the strange wooden structure. It was curved like an oval bowl, long but pointed at the ends, hooking up into a tall, curled end that held a dimly lit lantern.

“Have you…” His eyes scanned Seonghwa’s face, uncertain, like he couldn't quite comprehend what he was asking. “...never seen a boat before?”

“A boat?” Seonghwa’s face creased, puzzled. “But it is tiny?”

“Ah!” The pirate snapped his fingers, seeming to finally understand. “This is a rowboat,” he explained, a small sparkle of excitement ignited in his eye. “You've probably only seen large trading vessels, but this thing—” His hand hit the dark wood, making the lantern creak and sway on its hook. “—works the same way. It'll get us into the afterlife.” 

Seonghwa looked at it a little closer then, trying to find the same amazement the pirate seemed to find. It was certainly… ugly, he supposed.

“I'm going to push it toward the bank, and then I'll come back for you, okay?”

Seonghwa blinked in rapid succession, the pirate's words piecing together in his mind. “I'm not going anywhere near that river.”

“It's not a river,” said the pirate. “It's the path to the afterlife. All souls follow it.” 

“That is not making it sound any more appealing.” He frowned, glaring over the pirate's shoulder.

Sighing, the pirate strode forward, crouching just before Seonghwa. “Look, I won't pretend there aren't vengeful souls in there.”

“Is that what that was?” Seonghwa was quick to ask. “A vengeful soul? What is that?”

The pirate’s lips twisted with thought, his arms settling on his strong thighs as he pondered the question. “I suppose those who die with anger — those still desperately clinging to the emotion they had when they died — they're the souls that'll try to drag you in,” he explained, eyes widening with panic when he saw the terror trembling in Seonghwa's gaze. “But I won't let that happen,” he said quickly. “I promise they won't touch you.”

Seonghwa shook his head. “I don't trust you,” he confessed, chewing the inside of his cheek. He had been fooled too many times and probably lied to more than he had been told the truth. How could Seonghwa ever trust him?

The reality was, he couldn't. More than likely, he never would. Still, there was only one way Seonghwa could see himself going home, and that was by the pirate’s side. So he sucked in a deep breath and spoke before the pirate could open his mouth. “But I suppose you did save me, and I do need you to get back home.” 

A grin spread across the pirate's lips. “I'll prepare the boat.” 

“Ah, wait!” Seonghwa called just as the pirate moved to get up and turn away. “What's…” He bit his lip, hesitant. “What's your name? If we're going to be together for a while, I can't keep calling you ‘pirate.’”

The other man's face screwed, eyes squinting as he turned to meet Seonghwa’s gaze. “You…” His low voice drawled into silence, mind seemingly lost in thought. 

Seonghwa flinched, surprised, when a sudden burst of laughter erupted. It was a hearty thing that left the pirate's eyes in watery crescents that he had to swipe at. Seonghwa couldn't help but flush at the unexpected reaction, a small embarrassed pout forming on his pink lips.

When the pirate calmed, a curving smirk cemented itself on his face. “Kim Hongjoong,” he said, bowing in a mocking show of respect. He looked up, locking eyes with Seonghwa and flashing a sharp, toothy grin. “Don't forget it this time.”

Seonghwa was rightfully wary about boarding Hongjoong's boat. It was tiny for one, looking like it might capsize at the slightest of breezes (not that Seonghwa had felt one since entering this realm, but still). The wood was old and worn, dark with a thick layer of black dirt. How was this puny thing ever supposed to safely separate him from the evil creatures lurking in that river?

Usually, Seonghwa didn't need to worry about others harming him. He killed anyone who touched him. His body was resistant to poison. He had guards plastered around a room he rarely left. There had never been much reason for fear beyond his parents.

Having been torn from everything he'd ever known, his deadly body included, had left Seonghwa feeling unnervingly vulnerable. If someone touched him, they wouldn't die — Hongjoong had proven that when he'd effortlessly treated his leg. What was he to do if another creature attacked?

Hongjoong said he would protect him, but how could he ever believe a pirate, no less one who had tricked him and dragged him down to the Underworld? The man was as untrustworthy as they came, and Seonghwa was stuck with him. If he ever wanted to get back home, he knew he'd have to put aside a considerable amount of his scepticism and try to get along. An uneasy alliance was better than a hostile one, and the fact he hadn't left him to be torn apart by that creature had to count for something, right?

“Just to be clear,” Seonghwa began, his grasp on Hongjoong's neck tightening as he stepped into the boat. “We can't die here, right?”

The lantern knocked against the wooden beam at the new weight, and Hongjoong steadied Seonghwa on his back as the boat rocked, keeping himself firm and strong despite the unsteady footing. He had probably had a lot of practice out on the open sea, Seonghwa thought a little forlornly.

“No,” replied Hongjoong, carefully setting Seonghwa on one of the wooden benches. “We won't die twice,” he confirmed, “but there are things worse than death, and we can still feel and experience pain and injury.” Seonghwa watched him busy himself with the oars, pushing away from the bank as he absentmindedly said, “There's different medicine here, though.”

Seonghwa straightened in his seat, his curiosity piqued. “Different, how?”

“We’re souls, right?” Hongjoong threw his coat off and settled into his seat with a huff. Seonghwa couldn't help but eye the jagged tear in his blouse, revealing the bare expanse of tensing muscle underneath. “Our bodies are up in the Overworld trying not to rot. Do you see what I'm saying? We're separate entities right now. Whatever we do with our soul won't affect our physical body. I mean, how can it? We're already dead.” Hongjoong laughed. “I'd give you a week and some of the fine stuff they sell in the city market, and you'll be good as new.”

Seonghwa stiffened in his seat, hands clenching as he suddenly became ten times more aware of the hot throbbing in his leg. “So, anyone who sees our bodies in the Overworld will think we're… dead?” Seonghwa asked, tearing his eyes from the bloodied cloth wrapped around his mangled leg.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong answered, pulling the oars back in one swift movement. “Let's hope they don't bury us alive,” he joked.

“I don't think there's any need to worry,” Seonghwa replied without much thought, more focused on the smokey mist that fell from the wooden oars than anything. It reminded him too much of that horrid creature.

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong questioned, his voice strangely thick, catching Seonghwa off guard. 

Seonghwa tilted his head, eyes scanning Hongjoong’s face as if scrutinising his peculiarities might make them make more sense. After a moment of mutual confusion, Seonghwa sighed. “No one will come look for me,” he confessed. “Be it days or weeks. They will not check untouched food. They will not look into unanswered summons. I'm sure our bodies will be perfectly fine.”

Hongjoong's brows furrowed, a tight crease forming on his face as if what Seonghwa had said had greatly displeased him. Seonghwa quickly shook the thought from his mind. That was stupid. He was probably just confused why nobody cared about a prince.

“Do you not have attendants?” Hongjoong asked.

“I do,” Seonghwa huffed, “but I'm being punished because a certain someone decided to crash my meticulously planned wedding.”

“Oh,” Hongjoong exclaimed a little helplessly. At least he had the conscience to look guilty at Seonghwa’s admission. “I mean, it didn't look like you were too thrilled to marry the man. It would have lasted what? Ten seconds?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes. So much for guilty conscience. “You think I should be thankful?” Seonghwa scoffed, folding his arms over his chest, covering some of the dirty streaks staining the silk and exposing the harsh red marks he'd garnered from being dragged across the ground.

“I didn't say that, but if you feel so inclined,” Hongjoong replied, his devilish grin faltering ever so slightly as his eyes traced the scrapes on Seonghwa’s arms. “What they punish you for anyway?” he asked, tearing his gaze from him to focus on rowing. “Not like that whole thing was your fault.”

“Yeah, well, you try to tell them that,” Seonghwa muttered bitterly. 

“You know… I, um, this…” A frustrated groan tore from Hongjoong’s throat as he threw his head back, blinking up at the dark sky thoughtlessly before pulling himself back together and meeting Seonghwa's questioning gaze once more. “Look, I'm not good at this sappy stuff,” he confessed honestly. “What I'm trying to say is, I really didn't mean to mess up… whatever you had going on. You're basically a recluse, and this was quite urgent. I really couldn't wait to kidnap you from whatever tower you sulk in.”

“Which you did anyway,” Seonghwa was quick to point out.

“That’s besides the point. You gave me no choice.”

Seonghwa gritted his teeth, mind flicking through the memories of only hours prior. The pirate said this matter was urgent, yet Seonghwa had no real knowledge of what that ‘matter’ was. All he had to go off was their heated conversation in the cathedral grounds, though Seonghwa couldn't be certain half of that hadn't been pure lies.

“Were you trying to guilt me, or does the god of death actually have your family?” Seonghwa enquired, pushing back the long strands of hair from out of his eyes.

“Little bit of both,” Hongjoong admitted, a weak, sheepish smile flickering over his lips.

“What do you mean?”

“He has a member of my crew,” Hongjoong explained simply. “My crew is my family.” 

The remark is admittedly shocking to Seonghwa. Although he knew little of pirate loyalty, he knew of their selfishness and greed. He'd always assumed that, when push came to shove, it would be every man for themselves. But how Hongjoong looked — even the way he talked — it was wholehearted. Seonghwa remembered the glint of vulnerability he'd witnessed earlier, when his voice had shifted into an aching desperation Seonghwa had yet to hear since, and was reminded then of the gutting sadness in his eyes. Seonghwa couldn't forget it. He'd known it then, and he knew it now; Hongjoong was being sincere.

“How did this even end up happening?” Seonghwa asked, curious how one goes about getting kidnapped by a god. 

The sigh Hongjoong released was loud and tired, like even remembering the event was causing him a great headache. “Long story short,” Hongjoong began, heaving a gruff breath as he pulled the heavy oars back. “We were raiding a tomb, and he picked up something he shouldn't have,” he explained, his words purposefully brief. “The dumbass summoned himself a whole god and got taken as their bride. Now I'm left to clean up this whole mess.”

Seonghwa chose not to question their being in a tomb. Hongjoong was a pirate, after all. Expecting him to be well-behaved was like expecting a fish to fly. 

Instead, he rubbed mindlessly at his cold arms. Here, it didn't get colder, just more unbearable, and with only his thin pyjamas to keep him warm, Seonghwa was quickly growing intolerable.

“Do you know where they took him?” Seonghwa questioned, trying to distract his mind from the cold.

Hongjoong caught his eyes, staring for a moment or two before setting his oars carefully in their holsters. “Death's palace,” he answered.

“And that's where we're headed?”

“That's where we're headed.” Hongjoong nodded. 

Suddenly, Hongjoong pulled to his feet, bones cracking as the boat rocked. Seonghwa grasped the sides, a small, surprised sound falling from his lips as he dug his dirty nails into the wood. Whatever fear he held that something might reach from the depths and grab him vanished at the thought of being knocked in, unable to swim, and left to be dragged into perpetual torture.

Seonghwa shivered at the thought, but Hongjoong must have mistaken it for something else because he threw his heavy coat over Seonghwa's shoulders. The action was so unexpected Seonghwa could only blink up at the man in confusion as he said, “I'll be able to get you a change of clothes soon, but we still have a few hours until we reach land, so why don't you get some rest?”

Although he hated to admit it, Seonghwa was exhausted. He hated the idea of sleeping in this rowboat — of leaving his uncertain fate in the hands of a pirate who had already fooled him once before — but even Seonghwa could not control the way his eyelids fluttered. Adrenaline was leaving his body, and with it trailed his energy. 

So against his better judgement, Seonghwa nodded and allowed the pirate to help him into an uncomfortable sleeping position. With his arm for a pillow and a captain’s coat as a blanket, he fell into fitful slumber.

By the time Seonghwa awoke, the world was much brighter than he remembered it being. He sat up with a groan, a hiss slipping from his lips when his throbbing leg was jostled a little too harshly.

“You're up,” Hongjoong remarked, eyes pinned on something behind Seonghwa's head. 

“I'm up,” he repeated sleepily, rubbing at his sore eyes.

Hongjoong flashed him a sudden grin, causing Seonghwa to blink in surprise, his ears feeling strangely warm. “Just in time too,” he said. “We've almost arrived.”

“Arrived where?” Seonghwa asked, doing his best to twist his body without hurting his leg any more than he already had. 

Quickly, Seonghwa realised that it would cause more pain than it was worth, and he turned back around just in time to catch the twinkle of thrilling excitement in Hongjoong's eye. 

When he replied, Seonghwa could've sworn his grin was a little wider, his joy palpable. “The Undercity.”

Chapter Text

Hongjoong's hands were warm wrapped around Seonghwa's thighs, his rough fingers firm against his skin. It was difficult for Seonghwa to not focus on it as Hongjoong carried him toward the city gates. The heat between them was akin to a warm hearth, an alluring thing that once felt one might never tear away from. It didn't help that Hongjoong had tightened his coat around him once more, blanketing Seonghwa in a strangely comforting mix of his body heat and slightly salty scent.

Perhaps because he was unused to such closeness, but the sensation of having Hongjoong so thoroughly around him was overwhelming. It was so distracting, in fact, that by the time he managed to reel back his thoughts, they were well into the city.

Buildings rose around them, the terrain changing in a moment. Seonghwa marvelled at how the structures piled on top of one another, stacks and stacks of brightly coloured blocks stretching into the sky. It would've been terribly dark if not for the thousands of lanterns strung overhead, the oddly shaped paper illuminating the streets with softly glowing yellow lights.

The streets were cobbled and small, tight, grey paths bustling with unexpected life. Eyes trailed after them no matter which way Seonghwa turned. From old souls pushing wooden carts stocked full of Overworldly goods to the young chasing after wispy cats, they all cast him the same peering stare. However fleeting, Seonghwa felt it like a stab in his side. It was piercing — unnervingly knowing. Seonghwa felt no sin safe from their judgemental gaze.

Seonghwa’s grip tightened instinctively around Hongjoong's neck, his head dropping as his tense body pressed further into Hongjoong's shadow. Desperately, he hoped his long hair was enough to shield his face. 

“Hey, you okay back there?” Hongjoong unexpectedly asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the busy chatter. “If you hold on any tighter, you'll strangle me.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Seonghwa mumbled, instantly loosening his grasp. He eyes the blooming red crescents stamped into the man's skin with a note of guilt. “I-I didn't realise…”

“It's alright.” Hongjoong sighed. “Is your leg hurting? You didn't knock it, did you?”

“Uh, um, no, I didn't,” Seonghwa replied shyly. “I'm just… not used to being around so many people.”

More for the safety of others than his own, Seonghwa was forbidden to leave his designated wing of the palace without permission. Even then, rarely was permission granted. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd visited the throne room or the ballroom or the dining room. Actually, he could count all three on a single hand.

The only time Seonghwa had glimpsed life beyond the palace walls had been on the dawn of his first wedding. It'd been particularly windy that day, and when he'd entered his carriage, a gust of wind had peeled back a curtain, leaving just enough room for Seonghwa to peer out. Throughout the journey Seonghwa had cast subtle glances out the window, hoping to catch a glimmer of his city. Eventually, his mother had caught on, yanking closed the curtain in an instant and reprimanding Seonghwa the rest of the way to the cathedral. 

She did that a lot. Lecture him. One particular thing she liked to hound him about was his appearance. Don't frown. Don't slouch. Don't breathe too heavily. Smile with your teeth, but not too wide. Eyes open. Don't touch your hair. Fix your hair. Hands behind your back. Where are your gloves?

Again, and again, and again.

If she saw what a disaster he'd descended into — this mess of a man too weak to fix his haggard appearance — she would transform into that ugly, raging beast she kept safe just for him.

Being here now, subject to so much scrutiny, made him shrink. Seonghwa felt his mother in their stares, her shrill voice echoing in his head. Shame boiled within him, churning violently in his stomach and filling his head with a dizzying nausea.

“Do you want me to stop somewhere?” Hongjoong asked softly. “We're not too far from the market, but it'll be even busier there, and I don't want to overwhelm you.”

The idea sounded nice, but Seonghwa knew the longer he stayed in public, the worse his anxiety would become. It was better to get this over with.

“No,” he decided, shaking his head, the soft tufts tickling the exposed skin on Hongjoong's neck. “Let's get this over with. I'll be fine.”

Hongjoong hummed, the sound low and unsure, barely audible over the noisy crowd. “I'll try to be quick.” Seonghwa gave a small noise in response, tucking his head away as Hongjoong's sturdy arms carried him deeper into the city. 

Seonghwa tried not to think about the rising noise. The jingle of hanging glass ornaments, the thick smell of fresh, sizzling meat, the heckling vendors shouting out to passing folk. Seonghwa was very aware of when they'd entered the market, but he tried his hardest to steer his mind anywhere else.

“Sorry, this is taking longer than I thought,” Hongjoong suddenly said. They'd been here nearly ten minutes, a period of time that seemed much longer when you had spent every moment wishing it away. To Seonghwa, it felt like hours, his grasp around Hongjoong tightening every time he felt the soul of another come too close.

“I've only heard about the stall in passing, so I don't know exactly where it is,” Hongjoong confessed with a light chuckle. “First time being dead and all.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, though he was internally thankful for the distraction. Being stuck inside his head was suffocating. “How do you know so much about the Underworld, anyway?” he finds himself asking, words slightly muffled from where he had his face nestled into Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Like you said, it's not like you've died before.”

“Er, let's just say I'm not very well liked.” And before Seonghwa could even follow up with a single word, Hongjoong blurted, “Oh, look. I think I see the stall!” and rushed off so suddenly Seonghwa had to claw his nails into the man's shoulder to keep from falling back.

Hongjoong skilfully manoeuvred them through the crowd, swiftly working his way around the busy street until they were before a small, elderly woman. She was hunched over a clothed table. A red draping curtain hung overhead, shrouding her in darkness only illuminated by a single glowing ball at the centre of the table. Behind the woman were rows and rows of corked glass bottles and rounded vials filled to the brim with an assortment of unnameable substances. 

When Seonghwa finally brought his eyes toward the woman, he was surprised to find her already staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes. She had silver, wispy hair and thin, cracked lips that were set in a stern line, like she disapproved of Seonghwa’s very presence. Unnerved, Seonghwa couldn't help but hide behind Hongjoong's frame. The woman creeped him out.

Thankfully, Hongjoong soon caught her attention when he asked about one of the corked bottles behind her. Seonghwa released a small relieved breath and allowed his eyes to wander over the nearby stalls. 

Soon enough, Hongjoong was handing the woman gold, a single hand holding Seonghwa’s entire weight as he fished a few coins from his hip. The entire display of subtle strength had Seonghwa feeling dizzy, an unfamiliar heat rising in his cheeks as he watched Hongjoong shove the small glass he'd purchased into his pocket.

“She liked you,” Hongjoong teased, instantly making Seonghwa groan as they began making their way out of the crowd.

“Don't,” he said, lips forming a stubborn pout. “She looked like she wanted to stuff me into one of her jars.”

Hongjoong’s warm laugh filled Seonghwa's pink ears, loosening his lips into a small smile. “She couldn't take her eyes off you,” Hongjoong continued. “Not that I blame her.”

“Shut up,” Seonghwa hissed, though it lacked any real venom. “It's not my fault I was kidnapped in the middle of the night and then quite literally dragged through dirt.”

“That's not what I— never mind.” Hongjoong sighed, shaking his head so minutely that Seonghwa wouldn't have noticed it had he not been resting against him. “I'll find us an inn and then go get us a change of clothes, yeah?”

“It's the least you could do,” Seonghwa huffed.

Hongjoong worked quickly after that. Almost like he could sense Seonghwa's waning mental state, he soon had them off the bustling city streets, tucking them deep inside an inn painted in bright, beautiful flowers. 

‘Marigolds,’ Hongjoong had told him.

Seonghwa couldn’t draw his eyes away. As Hongjoong booked them a room, Seonghwa busied himself by tracing the images of full, blooming petals. The flower was like the sunset, liquid colour melting into one another until the blended line was seamless, an enchanting mixture of orange and yellow that reminded him of the warmth of the sun.

It was hard to say whether plants grew down here. Everything he'd encountered so far was near enough dead, but he hoped that maybe even death held surprises.

When Hongjoong had finished, he took their room key in his hand and trudged up a wooden set of stairs. Seonghwa tightened his hold, the throbbing in his leg intensifying when he accidentally knocked it against the wall. Though he didn't have to, Hongjoong apologised and swiftly unlocked their door, depositing Seonghwa gently on the bed.

Hongjoong dug out the medicine he’d purchased, then dumped his heavy coat on a wooden chair in the corner of the room. He groaned as he rolled his shoulders, his stiff muscles popping as he wound his arm back. Seonghwa felt a little bad for making Hongjoong carry him everywhere, but then again, this whole thing was his fault in the first place, so it was probably what he deserved.

Hongjoong didn't waste time, clearly able to see the pain behind Seonghwa's clenched teeth, and positioned himself at Seonghwa's side. When Hongjoong finally revealed the magical medicine that would rebuild Seonghwa’s leg in a week, Seonghwa found himself horrified.

“I am not eating a feather,” he refused through tight lips.

When Hongjoong had said that the medicine here was different, this was not what Seonghwa had had in mind.

“I'll mix it with some food,” Hongjoong said. “You won't taste a thing.”

Seonghwa shook his head, half in denial, half in disbelief. “Not happening.”

Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair, granting Seonghwa a glimpse of some dark, inky scrawl etched into the inside of his bicep. Seonghwa squinted, trying to read what little of it he could see, but before he could make it out, Hongjoong had already folded his arms over his chest, strong veins bulging from the tight muscle. 

“One way or another it will,” Hongjoong said, his low, threatening voice reminding Seonghwa that this man was in fact a dangerous pirate and not his bedside nurse. “Even if I have to feed you like a mother bird.”

Seonghwa flushed a lovely shade of red, so bright that Hongjoong couldn't help but grin at him. “Absolutely not,” Seonghwa said firmly, rubbing his palms over his face. “It was embarrassing enough that you stole my first kiss.”

Hongjoong's face twisted with perplexed surprise. “First kiss?” he repeated, raising a curious brow. “I would hardly call that a kiss.”

Burning embarrassment flooded Seonghwa’s veins, making him wish he'd kept his mouth shut. “Whatever.” Seonghwa pursed his lips and turned away. “I'm still not eating it.” 

Hongjoong stared at him narrowly. His gaze was heated, so intense Seonghwa felt shy enough to want to hide away. Dully, his leg panged with pain. Usually it would've been achingly annoying and sore, but now Seongwha welcomed the constant pain as a distraction.

“Do you like tea?” Hongjoong said after a long few silent moments.

Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Tea? What does that have to do with this?”

Hongjoong shook his head, flicking a hand dismissively before swiping up his coat once more. “Just answer the question,” he said, shoving his hand through the sleeve.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Seonghwa admitted lamely, his eyes following the way Hongjoong's shoulders stretched as he shrugged on his coat.

“Great,” he exclaimed, turning with a smile. “I'll go see if I can get some brewed for us while I'm out.” Hongjoong snatched the medicine off the side, dumped it in his pocket, and was out the door before Seonghwa could blink.

Hongjoong returned not only with steaming cups of tea, nor only with a round, beige sack of clothes, nor only with a grinning stranger, but with all three.

“Um, who is this?” Seonghwa questioned, eyeing the stranger warily.

“Oh,” Hongjoong gasped like he’d forgotten, seemingly too busy trying to place the teacups without any of the contents spilling over. A task he was not very successful at, by the way. Seonghwa would've laughed had there not been a tall, beautiful man making his way toward him. 

Instinctively, he stiffened, shoulders drawing his body tighter together. Although it made little sense for him to be so timid now, his response was innate. It hadn't been too long ago he'd been alive enough for his curse to take effect, after all.

The man had a fairly young soul, his features full and not yet withered by age. Not only that, but his face was objectively beautiful. Full, plump lips that stretched into a perfect, toothy smile, wide, piercing eyes shrouded by long eyelashes, and a sharp, angled jaw. Seonghwa was almost jealous.

“This is Shin Seojun. He's a healer I know. He agreed to look at your leg,” Hongjoong explained, though it only made Seonghwa more confused. 

How did Hongjoong know people in the Underworld? Scratch that. How did Hongjoong know such beautiful people in the Underworld?

“Ah, but first,” Hongjoong interrupted Seonghwa's train of thought by shoving a steaming cup in his face. “Drink this.”

Seonghwa took the cup from Hongjoong tentatively, allowing the sweet aroma to fill his nostrils before braving a sip. It was surprisingly good. Nothing like the fine, rich stuff they had stock loaded in the palace, but it was warm and homey. It was enough to ease his tight body. 

Seonghwa sighed into the cup, feeling the hot liquid seep into his stiff limbs as he drained the last dregs of tea. When he looked up, Hongjoong was grinning broadly. Seonghwa eyed him sceptically, glancing a few times at the healer. 

“What is it?” he asked, touching his cheek as if there might've been something on his face.

“How are you feeling?” Hongjoong enquired a little too eagerly, leaning uncomfortably close to Seonghwa. “Better, right?”

“Uh, I guess,” Seonghwa replied, puzzled by Hongjoong's sudden enthusiasm.

“Give him some room, Hongjoong,” Seojun said, swatting Hongjoong away. Seonghwa watched Hongjoong flash Seojun a playful look that had the healer sighing. “Seriously,” he mumbled under his breath before turning back to Seonghwa.

The smile that Seojun graced Seonghwa with was startlingly charming, an easy curve showcasing nothing but kindness. “Now, let's have a look at that leg.”

The man carefully peeled back the bloody fabric, Hongjoong's quick work unravelling under Seojun's deft fingers. By now, the cloth was utterly ruined, dark with dirt and brown blood stains that left little of the soft cream blouse untouched. 

Seonghwa hissed as Seojun unglued the final layer, the fabric fused to his skin by dry blood. “Sorry,” Seojun said, already beginning to clean the wound.

Seonghwa couldn't bear to look down. The taunting image of that horrid creature's detached hand clutched onto him sprang into his mind every time he braced himself to do it. That mist, like steam, slipped off the creature's hand as it clawed deeper, deeper, deeper — always dragging. Its grasp was unrelenting even in defeat.

“Hongjoong told me you weren't fond of wyvern feathers,” Seojun said, drawing Seonghwa from his thoughts. “I hope the tea suits your tastes more. I tried to blend it as best I could.” 

Seonghwa stilled, the cogs in his mind slowly beginning to turn as his eyes caught on Hongjoong's guilty face. He stared until it was clear Hongjoong was determined not to meet Seonghwa’s gaze. He turned back to study Seojun's perfect face.

“You put the feathers in the tea,” Seonghwa said.

“I was only trying to help you,” Hongjoong interjected, taking a few steps forward. “Don't you feel better now?”

“I don't believe I was talking to you,” Seonghwa snapped, taking pleasure in the way Hongjoong reluctantly shut his mouth. 

It wasn't the motive that infuriated him; it was the principal. If Hongjoong ever wanted Seonghwa to trust him, he couldn't treat him as an afterthought. Spiking tea with feathers? Helpful or not, it was something he should be privy to before being tricked into drinking it. Seonghwa knew Hongjoong was a pirate, but was it really so much to ask for human decency and honesty?

“Hongjoong, why don't you step out for a bit?” Seojun suggested, sensing the tension in the air. “Go clear your head.” 

Hongjoong looked like he wanted to protest, but one look at Seonghwa's stern, unflinching face had him nodding solemnly and leaving without a single word.

“I'm sorry about that, Seonghwa,” Seojun began, looking into Seonghwa’s eyes with shocking earnestness. “Hongjoong, he… he’s very one-track-minded. Stubborn too. Always thinks he's right. Honestly, it's not a great combination, is it?” Seojun’s laugh was light and heavenly to hear, just one perfectly pitched note after the other. 

“He’s an asshole,” Seonghwa grumbled, lips pressed in a tight line.

“I'm not so sure he can fix that,” Seojun mused. “It must be woven into his soul because he's always been like that. Don't think he can help it,” he said, a fond but forlorn look settling into his eyes. Suddenly, Seonghwa knew the man was somewhere far in the warmth of his memories. 

Something knotted tightly together in Seonghwa's stomach — some foreign emotion unfamiliar to him — twisting his insides into a wrangled ball of mush. 

Perhaps that was why he asked. That wrongness inside of him messed his head up so badly it couldn't differentiate between ignoring Hongjoong's existence and asking Seojun more about him. That had to be it. Because in Seonghwa's rational mind, he could not fathom why he would ever wish to talk about Hongjoong. He was, as they had established, an asshole pirate, after all.

“How do you know Hongjoong?”

Seojun didn't look visually surprised by the question, though his hands stilled for a split second. “We worked together on a ship for a bit when we were younger,” he explained, pausing for a moment before adding, “back when I was alive.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa exclaimed dumbly. 

He hadn't really thought much about it before, and perhaps it adds a layer of bitterness over everything, but all the souls here have died. The children. The animals. Everyone. 

A strange air settled between them, a heavy silence following the wake of a stagnant conversation. Seonghwa bit his lip, uncomfortable. Before Seonghwa could think to stop himself, his mouth was open. “Like as pirates?” he asked.

A laugh burst from Seojun, a loud thing that cackled and wheezed. “Of course, as pirates,” he said, wiping a small straying tear from his eye. “You know, he was really rebellious when he was younger. Even though it was a pirate ship, he didn't follow much of their command. Actually, whenever we were at port and the Captain was away, he would sneak into his study just to pore over maps for hours. It's a wonder how he still has both of his hands.”

“He did?”

“Oh, yes, and if he didn't agree with the Captain's orders, don't you know he'd make it everyone's problem. It was sweet most of the time. Hongjoong doesn't look it, but he isn't much a fan of taking advantage of the poor. I think his heart has always been on the adventure more than the treasure. He hated staying aboard when we anchored somewhere new. Used to sneak off when he was on duty. Got his ears clipped and the rest of his baby teeth knocked out for that. Not that it stopped him. If anything, it made him better at not getting caught.”

Seojun talked for a great amount of time. Seonghwa wasn't sure why he listened for as long as he did. Maybe he thought it would be pitiful to leave Seojun’s stories unheard, or maybe he understood too well the loneliness of having conversations with your echo, or maybe Seonghwa simply hadn't yet developed the social skills required to tell someone to shut up. Whatever it was, Seonghwa allowed Seojun to tell him far more about Hongjoong than he had ever desired to know.

Seojun had been in the middle of a particularly embarrassing anecdote about the time the livestock had escaped (Hongjoong had gotten attacked by a chicken and fallen overboard) when the door clicked open.

“Do you really need to tell him all this?” Hongjoong grumbled, alerting the two to the fact he had decided to re-enter the room.

“I'm just trying to make you seem more likeable,” Seojun said, teasing a playful smile onto his face.

“I'm plenty likeable, asshole,” Hongjoong cursed, shutting the door absentmindedly with his foot. He took a swig from a cup in his hand and tossed a small, brown bag that Seonghwa hadn't realised he was holding onto the bed beside him.

“What's this?” Seonghwa asked, eyeing the thing distrustfully.

“Apology gift,” Hongjoong replied, slumping into a seat in the corner of the room.

Seonghwa stared at it in momentary disbelief. The petty part of him wanted to turn up his nose at the peace offering and make him at least say sorry before he forgave him— if he was going to forgive him, because that was still up for debate. 

“I’ll…” Seonghwa cleared his throat, hoping to rid the squeaky unsureness layered within. “I'll open it later.”

There was silence, and then there were Seojun's giggles, rippling through the air with the lightness of butterfly wings.

“What?” Hongjoong questioned, staring at Seojun with a burning intensity.

Seojun just waved a dismissive palm. “Oh, nothing,” he snickered, leaning back and wiping his bloody hands on a cloth. “Never mind that. I think we’re done here.”

Hongjoong frowned. “Already?”

“The wyvern feathers work fast,” Seojun shrugged. “The best Seonghwa can do for his recovery for now is rest.” 

Hongjoong opened his mouth like he had many things to say about that, but Seojun, seeming to anticipate his retort, was already speaking. “But I am aware of your urgency,” he interjected. “Which is why I am offering Seonghwa to stay with me while you go and homewreck Wooyoung’s marriage.”

Hongjoong's face instantly darkened. “Absolutely not.”

Seonghwa bristled at that, a lick of irritation igniting within him. “I can speak for myself,” Seonghwa said sharply. 

“I didn't mean you couldn't.” Hoongjoong sighed, pulling himself to his feet. His boots thudded dully on the hard, wooden floor as he encroached upon the bed. Seonghwa swallowed dryly, limbs stiffening. 

“Look,” Hongjoong had turned his full, undying attention to Seonghwa, his piercing eyes pinning him where he lay, “you need to stay with me. We can't trust these people here.” Seojun made an offended noise that Hongjoong paid no mind to. His gaze remained unrelentingly locked onto Seonghwa. At that moment, he was the only thing in the room. “You yourself saw how vicious the vengeful souls can get,” Hongjoong said, a cold shiver running down Seonghwa’s spine as the memory resurfaced. “We can’t afford to take risks like that. If you stay with me, I can protect you.” 

Seonghwa, as much as he disliked Hongjoong, couldn't deny the appeal of the offer. Safety, no matter how frustrating, with Hongjoong was at least reliable. He’d proven himself capable of defending Seonghwa, keeping him away from most harm even after the imminent danger had subsided, and ensuring his leg was seen to. And Seonghwa could reluctantly admit that Hongjoong, despite his flaws (of which there are many), was shockingly considerate. 

Perhaps it was his own guilt for dragging Seonghwa into the Underworld with him, but again and again Seonghwa would find himself surprised by the gentle kindness offered to him. Giving him his jacket when he was cold, carrying him tirelessly on his back, worrying that Seonghwa was overwhelmed by the crowd, fretting over whether or not Seonghwa had hit his leg — the list was startlingly long.

“You’ll be stuck here for a week,” Seonghwa pointed out, his voice quiet and thoughtful.

The way Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa was hard to describe. Seonghwa thought that maybe there were no words that could perfectly encapsulate the raw earnestness that gleamed behind his dark eyes. Try as he might, Seonghwa couldn't look away.

“I know,” replied Hongjoong.

Seonghwa cleared his throat for what felt like the hundredth time and brushed back a loose strand of hair. “Alright, then,” he said quietly, almost shyly.

A loud giggle interrupted the silence, and Seonghwa was immediately reminded that Seojun was still there. When he looked over at the other man, his equipment was already packed, and there was a fresh bandage on Seonghwa’s wound.

“Well, I think that's my cue to leave,” Seojun said, pulling to his feet. 

Hongjoong followed his movements, standing and pulling on the door, holding it open without another thought, his eyes focused solely on Seojun. Seonghwa noted him move like a magnet, forced into motion by an invisible magnitude, his gaze unrelenting. He couldn't help but wonder about the great deal of history woven between the two. An intricate past he could hear endless stories about and still never fully understand. Even now, they seemed awfully close, time unable to steal the warm, teasing nature from their dynamic.

The slam of the door alerted Seonghwa to the fact Seojun had left, and Seonghwa failed to offer so much as a goodbye. His face fell, paling until he was impossibly white, a sickly pallor washing over him as guilt gnawed away. In his mind was a relentless echo. Endless and shrill. A voice that could only ever belong to his mother 

“Don't look so happy to be left alone with me,” Hongjoong teased, bringing an immediate frown to Seonghwa’s face.

“Asshole,” Seonghwa muttered. Pushing away lingering thoughts of his parents’ disapproval, Seonghwa turned, angrily snatching the bag laid haphazardly beside him. “What'd you get me anyway? More poison?”

“I wish,” Hongjoong snickered, finding himself hysterical. Seonghwa didn't move, his body rooted in place, eyeing the pirate with unimpressed austerity. Noticing the silence, Hongjoong’s playful expression faltered. “I'm joking,” he said, stepping toward the bed, cheeks a little redder than they had been previously. 

Seonghwa released a petulant puff of air and faced the bag in his lap, lips pressed together in a pout. Distantly, he heard a soft, amused sound, but it was barely there, so he made a conscious effort to ignore it. 

When Seonghwa lifted the bag to peer inside, he was left speechless. He reached in, drawing out a heavy tome bound in dark leather. The woody smell hit his nose, inviting itself into his lungs, filling his mind with thoughts only of the delightful, perfectly earthy aroma. He resisted the urge to bury his face between the pages and instead traced the silver embossed on the cover, hands trailing over every crevice at least twice before slipping underneath and flipping to the first page.

“I thought you might get bored,” Hongjoong offered into a silence Seonghwa had not realised had stretched a moment too long. 

Seonghwa jumped at the sudden sound. He'd almost forgotten Hongjoong was there. “That's, uh,” he swallowed, trying to settle his beating heart, “very thoughtful.”

“As apologies should be.” 

“Most start with a ‘sorry,’” Seonghwa couldn't help but point out.

Hongjoong looked completely nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders with an easy grin. “I thought you wouldn't appreciate the dishonesty.” 

Snapping the book closed, Seonghwa placed it at his side with barely contained frustration. “What are you trying to do?” he demanded, voice calm yet sharp. “Antagonise me?”

Hongjong's face dropped into something firm, suddenly faced with the dawning revelation that Seonghwa found him terribly unamusing. “No,” he said quickly, placing a hand on the bed, making a move like he meant to sit down. “No, look, I don't mean to upset you, but—” 

“Wait!” Seonghwa exclaimed suddenly, making Hongjoong flinch back.

“Woah, what?” Hongjoong gasped, face tense and alert as his eyes scoured the room.

“You can't sit on the bed,” Seonghwa said. “You're still in your outdoor clothes.”

“Does that really matter?” Hongjoong scowled, utterly baffled. “And, if we are to point out the obvious, so are you.”

Seonghwa’s lips jutted out as he pulled himself up further on his pillow. “That's different. These are my pyjamas. Plus, you're a pirate,” he said. “Your clothes are probably dirtier than mine.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “A few hours ago you were rolling around in the dirt, blood up to your thighs,” he retorted.

Seonghwa's stare was unwelcoming and hostile as he glared at Hongjoong, completely stubborn and entirely serious. He glowered with an uncomfortable heat, the kind that had a person dancing in place like they were on fire. With his eyes alone, Seonghwa made it very obvious Hongjoong was not to sit on the bed.

Hongjoong sighed in defeat, quickly turning away. “Whatever, I bought clothes for us, anyway,” he said, stomping over to the table where he'd left his bag.

He ripped it open, wide enough for Seonghwa to see the different colours of fabric swirl together as Hongjoong fished around inside. Eventually, he pulled his arm out, dragging a bundle of cloth with him, though it was not without pain as he banged his elbow against the wall not a moment later. Seonghwa muffled a laugh behind his hand when a faint curse was hissed into the air.

Seonghwa watched as Hongjoong ploughed his way toward the ajar door in the corner of the room, realising it must lead to an adjoining bathroom when Hongjoong stepped inside. Before he shut the door, he paused, lingering in the doorway.

Without warning, Hongjoong sharply turned back around, catching Seonghwa's eyes instantly. “And, for the record, I won't apologise for the medicine because I'm not sorry I tried to help you,” he said, swinging the door closed before Seonghwa had a chance to retort.

When Hongjoong emerged from the bathroom, it was with a rushed apology. His words spilt like a bursting dam, an overwhelming flood of sentences that jumbled together in their escape from his mouth.

“What was that?” Seonghwa taunted, his lips twitching with amusement.

“I said I'm sorry.” Hongjoong sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair. “I should've told you what was in the tea.” 

The clothes that hung from his body were loose, flowing around him in a way that left too much to the imagination. A pale shirt with long sleeves that he'd rolled up to the elbows, revealing lengths of toned muscle Seonghwa tried not to stare too hard at.

“Yes, you should've.” Seonghwa nodded.

“Even if I thought I was helping, what I did wasn't right, so I'm sorry. I won't do it again.”

“See,” Seonghwa smiled, "that wasn't so hard, was it?”

Hongjoong grumbled something unintelligible, throwing his old clothes in a messy heap on the floor. Seonghwa cleared his throat loudly, staring pointedly in disapproval. Hongjoong met his eyes quizzically, a clear question in his gaze.

“The wardrobe,” Seonghwa said in lieu of an answer, pointing toward the other side of the room.

Hongjoong groaned but swiped up the mess nonetheless, neatly folding the rags and placing them inside. Turning back to Seonghwa, Hongjoong flung out his empty arms. 

“Happy?” he asked.

“Very.” Seonghwa smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “Now, help me up so I can change.” 

“I'm not one of your servants, you know,” Hongjoong said, moving to Seonghwa's bedside despite his complaints. 

“Hush,” Seonghwa shushed, allowing Hongjoong to help him swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Alright, now fetch my clothes for me.”

“Do you need help changing too?” Hongjoong teased.

“No,” Seonghwa replied a little too quickly, cheeks rather warm suddenly.

When Hongjoong returned with a fresh pair of clothes, he helped Seonghwa to his feet and guided him to the bathroom. His hands were still so warm when they pressed into Seonghwa. It's a sensation still unfamiliar to him, his skin almost tingling at the touch. Thankfully, Hongjoong was quick to relinquish his hold and allow Seonghwa to slip behind the cover of the wooden door.

Seonghwa distracted himself with dressing, finding it a much more difficult task than he had anticipated. The shirt Hongjoong had given him was easy enough. His limbs ached with overuse, but it'd slipped over his head, so that was of little trouble. The problem arose with the trousers he'd been given. Wide-legged, yet still Seonghwa found himself half regretting turning down Hongjoong's embarrassing offer.

Pulling the pants over his wound proved difficult and very, extremely painful. Though the medicine Hongjoong had given him had numbed most of the pain, the tight waistband forced his knuckles against the wound, pulling a sharp, agonising pain with it. Now, more than anything, he wished for one of the lovely dresses stored in his wardrobe back in the palace.

Seonghwa's grunts must have been louder than he had thought because a moment later came a knock on the door. 

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong called. “Are you okay in there?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa replied weakly, finally managing to get the waistband up to his thighs. “I'll be out in a moment.”

By the time Seonghwa emerged, he looked like a wreck. A deep exhaustion in his face, huffing like he’d just run up a flight of stairs, brow dampened with cold sweat. Hongjoong's eyes searched his body, something tight knitted into his face.

“Did you fight a rabid gull in there?” he asked, taking Seonghwa into his arms once more and helping him to the bed.

“Hilarious,” Seonghwa deadpanned.

If Hongjoong made any further remarks, Seonghwa did not know, too focused on carrying himself to bed before his eyes gave out on him. He was exhausted, the day lost mostly to roaming the overcrowded streets and withstanding Hongjoong's company for a prolonged period of time. It wasn't a great pair for Seonghwa's limited energy reserves.

Hongjoong pulled back the duvet and helped Seonghwa settle in. No matter what he said, he makes an excellent servant, even if he complained too much. 

Seonghwa watched as Hongjoong collected Seonghwa’s ruined pyjamas and stored them in the wardrobe, just as Seonghwa had instructed. Tomorrow, he would find a way to dispose of them, but until then, he refused to let them make a home cluttering the floor.

A loud bang followed by a string of curses interrupted his thoughts, forcing his sleepy gaze wide and alert. The first thing his eyes landed on was Hongjoong. Hongjoong, who had his foot in one hand, was hopping up and down as he grumbled swears under his breath. The scene was so baffling, Seonghwa couldn't help the laugh that slipped between his lips.

Hongjoong's head whipped to him, a scary, threatening face meeting his mirthful eyes. It only made Seonghwa laugh harder at the fool, lips stretching until his eyes were crinkled, spilling hilarity-born tears.

“You're rather clumsy,” Seonghwa said when his laughter had settled and Hongjoong was no longer hopping with pain. “How did you not send us into a wall or something?”

Hongjoong gave him a weak smile as he drew the curtains, instantly darkening the room tenfold. “I was trying really hard,” he confessed, extinguishing the lit candle on the table. “Now,” Hongjoong began, facing the bed, much to Seonghwa's confusion. “If you'll excuse me, I'm going to pass out for the next twelve hours,” he said, marching toward the bed.

Seonghwa’s bed. 

Seonghwa had not nearly enough time between his revelation and Hongjoong throwing himself under the covers for him to process what was happening. 

His breath hitched, the bed instantly warmer with Hongjoong inside of it, eyes scanning the room for some mistake. But no. There was no mistake, only Seonghwa’s own stupidity and lack of awareness. In this room, Seonghwa realised, there was only one bed.

Chapter Text

Seonghwa awoke to a cold bed. The curtains had been opened, letting in what little light the Underworld offered and illuminating the room in a soft grey glow. 

Seonghwa groaned, sleepily throwing himself on his side. His eyes didn't catch it at first, but after blinking twenty times, he spotted a tall glass of water and a cream-coloured piece of paper on his bedside. 

Seonghwa sat up with a wince, limbs aching and sore, and looked down at the peculiar sight. He squinted at the note as he brought it to his weary eyes. 

Went out for a bit, left breakfast on the table. 

I have someone delivering you your dinner later on. When they knock, call them in. They have a key.

Don't miss me too much ;)

Seonghwa scoffed. Hongjoong's handwriting was awful.

For most of the day, Seonghwa read. The heavy tome felt good between his fingers, the leather rich and worn, and the act of reading reminded him of home. For a brief period of time, he could imagine himself alive and well, peacefully reading in his chamber. It didn't last long, but it was nice for a time before he remembered what his crushing reality was.

When Hongjoong returned late into the evening, Seonghwa had meant to ask him about the room, or more specifically the bed situation, but all thought was wiped from his mind when he was presented with the most wondrous stack of books he'd ever seen. If Hongjoong had been anyone else, Seonghwa would have fallen in love then and there.

The next few days follow a similar pattern. Hongjoong was always gone before he woke and stayed out most of the day, returning with small, thoughtful gifts to keep Seonghwa occupied while he was on bedrest. And, like clockwork, Seonghwa forgot all mention of changing rooms. It was almost comical how predictable it was at this point.

That was until one day Hongjoong returned with a blinding grin and crutches. “Do you want to go out?” he asked, seeming to already know the answer by the way Seonghwa smiled back at him. Seonghwa nearly fell out of bed in his excitement.

When Seonghwa rose the next morning, he was met with the most bizarre sight. Hongjoong. Hongjoong, still warm beside him in bed, snuggled at his side, to be precise. 

In his sleep, the harsh contours of his face had rounded out into a softness Seonghwa had not seen the Pirate King capable of before. His eyes traced the long, full lashes resting against his cheek, fingers twitching with the compulsive urge to brush against them. There was a cute scrunch in his nose, and his cheeks were red from the heat of the sheets. Seonghwa couldn't help but stare. Very rarely does he get to see Hongjoong in such a vulnerable state. It was enchanting in a strange, he-looks-so-stupidly-cute-I-want-to-pinch-his-cheeks kind of way.

Hongjoong woke suddenly and without warning, his eyes staring up into Seonghwa's peering gaze in the matter of a blink. Instantly, Seonghwa looked away, but it was too late. Hongjoong had caught him.

“Were you going to wake me or just stare for the next half hour?” he questioned, rising onto his elbows, torso twisting in his attempt to recapture Seonghwa's avoidant eyes.

Seonghwa didn't look at his forearms. He swore he didn't. 

“You were drooling,” Seonghwa tried to explain, hands gripping onto the bedsheets a little tighter. “Grossed me out.”

“Uh huh,” responded Hongjoong, looking entirely unconvinced and far too smug about it.

Seonghwa, in an attempt to distract himself from his humiliation, quickly changed the subject. “Don't you think you should fix this, anyway? It’s not exactly proper to be sharing a bed like this. I-I mean, we’re not even…” His voice trailed off, losing will to his embarrassment, cheeks flushing pink at the very thought of what sharing a bed implied.

Hongjoong released a heavy sigh. “I won’t do anything to you if that's what you're worried about.”

Seonghwa shook his head, deciding to focus on getting Hongjoong to fix this awkward sleeping situation. “No, that's not the problem,” he said.

“Oh good.” The smile that Hongjoong graced him with was crooked. “So we agree, then. There's no problem.”

“No,” Seonghwa said quickly. “That's not what I meant. Don't twist my—”

Before Seonghwa could finish, a loud knock resounded, immediately capturing both of their attentions. Hongjoong mumbled something under his breath but tore away the covers and stomped toward the door nonetheless.

“You're early,” grumbled Hongjoong, pulling open the door.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your beauty sleep,” Seojun said, stepping into the dim room.

His eyes were sharp as they scoured the scene before him, investigating the room like he was searching for something especially damning. Seonghwa couldn't fathom what he might be looking for. The room was perfectly tidy, clear of any misshapen heaps of mess capable of hiding nefarious entities.

The bed creaked as Seonghwa shifted, settling a little higher on his pillows. Seojun's gaze instantly found him, watching his movements with a note of curiosity. 

“Looks like you two enjoyed your night,” he said, venturing deeper into the room, his equipment bag knocking against his thigh as he walked. “Nothing too strenuous for Seonghwa’s leg, I hope.” Seojun winked.

Seonghwa looked away, a curling heat igniting inside him, and fiddled with the corner of the duvet.

Hongjoong groaned. “Hurry up and do what you came here to do,” he told Seojun, his voice firm and commanding.

“Fine, fine,” Seojun said, waving his free hand as if to swat Hongjoong away. 

Placing his equipment down, Seojun settled next to Seonghwa and quickly set about unwrapping the bandages on his leg. Hongjoong informed him that, after Seojun had checked his progress, they'd be fine to head out for the day. 

Seonghwa nodded along to every word, trying to keep his body from shaking with excitement. It'd been so long. Bedridden, the days seemed to stretch into infinity. Even when he was locked away at home, there had been more things to do (mostly because his limbs were fully functional, but that was neither here nor there).

“He's healing wonderfully.” Seojun smiled, wrapping a fresh bandage over Seonghwa's leg. “Three or so more days and you'll be good to go on your way. Have you gotten everything ready, Hongjoong?”

“Almost.”

Something in Seonghwa’s mind snagged at that, triggering a twisting tightness in his chest, an anxious gnawing. “What does he mean?” he couldn't help but ask. “Got what ready?”

Hongjoong caught Seonghwa's inquisitive stare for a brief moment, shaking him away the next. “Just a few preparations for our journey,” he said dismissively.

Seonghwa bit his lip, frustrated. “Is it long?”

“Shouldn't be if we follow the route I've mapped out,” Hongjoong said, picking up the crutches he had left in the corner by the table. “But all this talk can wait until later.” When he reached Seonghwa, his smile was heart-flutteringly beautiful. “I have a festival to take you to.” 

Seonghwa had never been to a regular town festival, never mind one hosted in the realm of the dead. He didn't know what to expect. What to wear. How to do his hair. All he had to go off was the vague words of Hongjoong, who was decidedly very unhelpful.

“You look fine.”

“I know, but is this festival fine?!”

“Yes, now can we please go?”

“No, I think you're lying. I need to change.”

“Seonghwa, you have tried on every piece of clothing at least twice. If you are not out this door in the next minute, I'm dragging you out.”

They exited the small inn into a slim street teeming with brightly coloured streamers that hung so low that even Hongjoong, in all his shortness, could reach up and touch the tails. Seonghwa couldn't help but laugh when he commented on the fact and earned himself a scathing glare and a very angry lesson on the average height of a human male. 

As they explored deeper into the city, Seonghwa's excitement grew. Frilly bunting hung over the eaves of every building, practically dripping with splendour, and the overhanging lanterns had been painted varying shades of the rainbow, showering the chalked streets in a kaleidoscope of colour. And though the crowd had intensified greatly, Seonghwa found himself without worry, his mind occupied by the magical marvel before him.

Music flooded the air as they turned into what Hongjoong had described as the heart of the city. And, truly, it lived up to the name. Beating with the boom of joyous chatter and hearty song, throngs of people bustle around, skipping and laughing, holding one another in loving elation. It had been made very evident (if it hadn't been earlier) how much this festival meant to the souls here.

“What are we celebrating?” Seonghwa asked Hongjoong, watching the bodies in the centre of the square dance around each other in perfect rhythm. They looked so elegant and lovely. Seonghwa glanced at his leg a little bitterly.

“Colour,” Hongjoong answered.

Seonghwa couldn't help the crease of confusion that folded his brows together. “Colour?”

“It's valued here — where everything is so grey and dark,” he explained, then, after a moment, gestured to his body. “Haven't you noticed our outrageously bright clothes? These were the most muted colours I could find!”

Seonghwa found himself laughing. He hadn't thought the choice of colour was hideous at all. In fact, were Hongjoong not such an asshole, he would've gone so far as to mention how dashing he looked in royal purple.

“I merely thought it was your sense of fashion,” he said instead, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “You can't have much experience out on your ship every day.”

Hongjoong made a sound of offence and argued against him fiercely as he guided him to the food stalls set on the edge of the small square. The aroma was simply amazing, mixing spices and herbs that concocted the most mouthwatering smell. Seonghwa watched the vendors serve customers with full, warm smiles and found himself a little disappointed when Hongjoong sat him down on a bench while he waited in line. It was long, but Hongjoong denied the trouble and waited anyway, leaving Seonghwa to marvel at the twisting bodies twirling before him.

They danced rings around each other, moving in asymmetrical circles as they gave in to the upbeat melody. Further away, toward what Seonghwa assumed was the centre, was a large, dusty cloud of multicoloured smoke. As they danced, pellets of colour shot into the air, exploding in a bright, beautiful burst that aligned flawlessly to the beat. The streams of mist descend over the dancers, painting them into a portrait of purposeful perfection. Everything they did was purposeful.

Hongjoong returned quicker than Seonghwa had thought he would and handed him his food. When Seonghwa looked down, it was coated in a bright blue sauce that made him wary, but Hongjoong told him it tasted divine, so he took a bravely large bite. Immediately, his mouth burst with flavour, rich notes of spice lingering on his tongue long after swallowing. Hongjoong was right. It was divine.

“Do you like to dance?” Hongjoong asked suddenly, catching Seonghwa off guard.

He turned, feeling strangely shy when he saw Hongjoong staring right back. “Where's this coming from?”

Hongjoong looked away quickly, shoving the food on his paper plate around. “Nowhere, really.” He shrugged. “Just saw you admiring the dancers.”

“And here I thought you were offering,” Seonghwa said with confidence he did not feel.

“I'm not sure I would survive carrying you through a dance like that,” Hongjoong chuckled, not so subtly glancing down at Seonghwa’s leg.

Seonghwa stiffened, something vile and hot rising within him. Almost like that twisting sensation from earlier but infinitely more bitter. Deeper, more convulsing and acrid, drawing up and up until he could feel it take root in his chest, tightening around him until it felt like a clench.

When he sensed the silence dragging a touch too long, Seonghwa shook off the feeling and asked, “Are you going to eat that, or do I have to snatch it off your plate while you aren't looking?” 

Wordlessly, Hongjoong surrendered the plate to Seonghwa's hungry little fingers.

It was late into the evening when they returned to the inn. Hongjoong, having offered to take Seonghwa for a celebratory drink after being told it had been his first festival, guided them toward a semi-private table and called over a waitress.

“It's really so lovely here,” Seonghwa remarked, sighing into his glass. “Maybe I should just stay forever.” He giggled, the alcohol making him feel light and relaxed.

When Hongjoong took too long to reply, Seonghwa looked away from the snacks he'd made Hongjoong order for him. He was surprised to find him distant. His eyes were somewhere foreign, and his skin was too pale for Seonghwa's liking.

“Are you okay?” he asked, unable to gather the courage to check the temperature of his forehead. “You're not getting sick, are you?”

Hongjoong jerked back, as if startled awake. “Ah, no, I'm fine,” he swiftly reassured, rubbing his neck mindlessly. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I said I really like it here,” Seonghwa repeated, a little quieter than he had been before. “I might stay.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his shocked expression, his hand pulling from his neck to grip the handle of his drink. “O-Oh?”

Seonghwa watched his face for a moment longer before looking away, his brain storing the strange reaction in the dusty cabinets in his mind for later examination. “But,” he continued, voice careful and considerate, “if I stay, how can I see a real marigold? Plants don't live long down here.” 

“You've never seen one?” Hongjoong asked, visibly surprised. “Doesn't the queen boast about her garden? I would've thought there'd be at least one.”

“I wouldn't know,” replied Seonghwa, taking another long gulp of his drink, hiding his face behind the large glass. “I'm not allowed in there. You know, death touch, and all.”

“Right,” Hongjoong mumbled, looking like his mind was elsewhere.

Seonghwa placed his drink down and shovelled several mouthfuls of food down his gullet before speaking again. “Thank you for today,” he said, drawing Hongjoong's immediate attention.

The pirate looked shocked, but Seonghwa couldn't fathom why. He meant it. Today had been like a dream — some fantastical illusion his brain had conjured in his perpetual boredom.

It was something he'd never before thought he'd experience, and though his underarms ached from using the crutches for so long, Seonghwa couldn't be more thankful to Hongjoong. For the first time in his life, Seonghwa truly felt alive.

“And I'm sorry you have to wait for me to recover,” Seonghwa continued after a moment.

Hongjoong opened his mouth only to say nothing. Seonghwa tilted his head in confusion, worried he might have said something wrong, watching Hongjoong’s eye dance in aversion. 

Eventually, Hongjoong downed a rather large gulp of liquor and said, “I don't deserve your thanks nor your apologies, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa made a soft noise, nibbling on a salted nut. “Maybe so, but I still feel guilty,” he admitted. “It may seem silly considering I don't know him, but I worry I've made you spend too much time here.”

Hongjoong released a tired sigh and reached forward. For a second, Seonghwa thought he was reaching for his hand, breath stilling in his throat, heart jumping. Hongjoong grabbed a handful of nuts from the bowl in front of Seonghwa's clammy palm instead.

“Wooyoung's tough,” said Hongjoong, throwing a few nuts into his mouth. “I trust he can handle a few extra days betrothed.” Seonghwa nodded along, chewing slowly in thought. “Besides,” Hongjoong continued with a grin, “as we've established, you are rather gullible. I’d hate for anyone to trick you into something troublesome while I was away.”

Seonghwa threw a nut right at his stupid, smug face.

The night rolled in quickly, time slipping away from him as his veins burnt brighter. By now, Seonghwa could acknowledge the pleasant buzz inside of him. The alcohol had made him lax, happier and more willing to play into Hongjoong's teasing.

He made for surprisingly good company. His stories of adventures beyond Seonghwa’s imagination fascinated him. He told tales of unfathomable sea creatures, beautiful and damned, rough battles fought against Mother Nature, and even brief encounters with sirens. Seonghwa hung onto every word, a pout forming when Hongjoong pushed out his chair.

“I'm going to go to the bathroom. You need anything?” he announced, much to Seonghwa's dissatisfaction. He wanted to hear more of Hongjoong's stories! He shook his head quickly, setting his face on a palm, leaning into the table. Hongjoong’s eyes lingered for a few seconds before he finally turned, leaving Seonghwa by his lonesome. 

Seonghwa eyed his retreating back until he was out of sight, falling into the endless depths of his mind. He thought of all that Hongjoong had shared, envious. His life was more exciting and fantastical than Seongwha could ever have imagined. He told of foreign lands and treasure he couldn't dream of holding. 

There was a wonder in the way Hongjoong spoke, light and free, without the restraint of regret. Seonghwa wished so desperately the idea of such freedom was conceivable to him, but even with Hongjoong an arm's reach away, that life was still so far — that desirable freedom without tangible grasp.

A dull thud jolted Seonghwa out of his thoughts. When he looked up, he was met with the grin of a stranger. “What's a pretty guy like you doing sitting all alone?” the man asked, leaning into the table.

Seonghwa pulled back, placing his hands on his lap. “I'm not alone,” he corrected. “My friend went to the bathroom. You're in his seat.”

“I'm sure he wouldn't mind,” he said, a sleazy gleam in his eyes as he traced Seonghwa's figure. 

Seonghwa tried to keep himself straight and unperturbed by his leering stare but found himself shrinking into his seat nonetheless. “I think he would,” he said with determination he struggled to gather. 

“Come on,” whined the stranger, catching Seonghwa's hand when he reached to brush back a wayward strand of hair. Seonghwa jumped at the sudden action, his knee knocking into the wooden table as his wide eyes scanned the room for escape. “I'm sure he'll understand you wanting to have a little fun, right?” 

“N-No, I—”

“You're in my seat.” Hongjoong's voice came like thunder — deep and murderous — the warning before merciless chaos. 

A cracking snap coincided with a raw cry of pain, but Seonghwa paid it no mind. His hand was free, and he pulled it back into his chest like the most precious treasure known to man, breath laboured from panic. 

Distantly, he heard Hongjoong's voice, venomous and angry, but real and the only familiar thing he could cling to. He reached out blindly, fingers snagging on Hongjoong's sleeve. Seonghwa tugged, but Hongjoong didn't look back. He was still spitting a garble of infuriated words Seonghwa’s fuzzy brain couldn't make out.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa called, voice unsteady and shaken.

Finally, Hongjoong turned with an exasperated sigh. “Seonghwa, I think it's time to go.”

“Okay, let me get the—”

Without warning, Hongjoong reached around Seonghwa and scooped him off his seat, pulling him snugly against his chest and storming off upstairs without a moment’s notice. Although Seonghwa might've once found the hold suffocating, he now found comfort in the warmth of Hongjoong's body, resting his head on his shoulder as he tried to calm himself.

Seonghwa clutched Hongjoong's shirt, tethering himself with the feel of the fabric beneath his fingers, and simply breathed. Heavy and full. He breathed until his lungs constricted and he was forced to exhale. In and out. He breathed and breathed until his breath bubbled into a dam of giggles that fell from his lips unceremoniously. “Did you break his wrist?” he laughed, high and light, as they entered their room.

Hongjoong eyed him warily before huffing his own fleeting chuckle of amusement, gaze melting with mirth. “Should learn to keep his hands to himself.” He smiled, placing Seonghwa gently on the bed.

His hair fell in a messy halo around his head, laughter slowing as Hongjoong pulled away to tug off his jacket. Seonghwa watched him shamelessly, admiring the firm lengths of muscle being unveiled as Hongjoong rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

“You might want to get up,” Hongjoong said, smirking when he caught Seonghwa's stare. “I put you on the bed in your outdoor clothes.”

Seonghwa pursed his lips, hands pushing his hair off his face. “Carry me again,” he said.

“A clingy drunk, are you?” Hongjoong laughed, already stepping toward Seonghwa. 

Without a word of complaint, Hongjoong wrapped his arms around Seonghwa and lifted him into his chest, Seonghwa's outstretched arms easily enclosing around his neck.

“Warm,” Seonghwa mumbled drunkenly, nestling into Hongjoong's neck with uncharacteristic clinginess.

Hongjoong deposited Seonghwa on the countertop in the bathroom, leaving temporarily to fetch his pyjamas and the array of weird skin stuff he'd made Hongjoong buy him.

Seonghwa’s leg had seen significant recovery the past few days. Although his leg was still weak and he couldn't stand on it for long periods of time yet, it was much easier to slip into his nightwear than it had been initially.

After finishing with his skincare, Seonghwa called Hongjoong back, a tired yawn on the cusp of his lips. 

“You like bossing me around, don't you?” Hongjoong remarked, lingering in the doorway. He seemed to have taken the opportunity to change out of his clothes too, replacing his tight blouse with a large, baggy shirt that made him look soft and cute.

“You wouldn't do everything I said if you didn't like it,” Seonghwa replied, resting his sleepy head on Hongjoong's shoulder as he carried him to the bed.

“Who says I like it?” Hongjoong huffed a sound of mock offence. “I'm just trying to be nice because you're injured.”

“Then you should be nice more often. It works wonderfully in my favour.”

Seonghwa's grip tightened as Hongjoong lowered him onto the bedsheets, tugging at the fabric behind his back until it bunched under his fingers. He sighed at the comfortable heat between them, raising his eyes to stare indefinitely at Hongjoong's face.

The alcohol had smoothed out some of the harsh angles of his face, softening the rigid lines into something more boyish — something Seonghwa dared to say was charming. Before him, Hongjoong looked a man of his age. Young and full of life. 

Seonghwa allowed his eyes to linger, roaming over contours of Hongjoong’s face that he never before had allowed himself to. He could see now, in dim candlelight, the true face of the Pirate King. No more king than Seonghwa was myth.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Hongjoong asked, a raspiness to his voice as he sat back on the bed, one leg hitched over his thigh. Seonghwa pulled to his elbows, shuffling around gracelessly until he was sat up, facing Hongjoong. He hadn’t much liked the cold distance that had settled between their bodies and found himself desperately chasing after it.

“I'm not looking at you,” Seonghwa replied, words slurring in his unconvincing, rushed denial.

Hongjoong raised a brow. “Oh, really?” 

Seonghwa didn't know why Hongjoong was making a fuss. It wasn’t like it was Seonghwa's fault he had decided to sit at the foot of Seonghwa's side of the bed, making it practically impossible to not look at him. This was a side of Hongjoong Seonghwa had never seen before. Hell, he doubted many people had. How could his eyes not be intrigued by the generous blush colouring his cheekbones?

“You're doing it again.”

Seonghwa blinked dumbly. “Am I?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong said, leaning forward. “You look… hungry. Like you want something.” His gaze dropped, low enough that Seonghwa couldn't convince himself he wasn't looking at his lips. “Do you, Seonghwa? Do you want something?”

Seonghwa swallowed dryly. “Could I…” he paused, hesitant. “...touch you again?”

Seonghwa watched as the corners of Hongjoong’s mouth quirked up. “You can do whatever you want,” he said, something sultry and dark gleaming in his eye.

Immediately, Seonghwa slapped his hands on Hongjoong's cheeks, the sound resounding off the walls. Hongjoong's eyes bulged in shock, but he did not stop Seonghwa when he lightly pinched his cheeks. They were softer than Seonghwa had imagined. 

Quickly, Seonghwa found himself carried away by drunken curiosity, fondling Hongjoong's lovely, pointed nose, marvelling at the perfect bridge, and hooking his fingers around the pieces of metal dangling from Hongjoong's ears. Seonghwa was positively enamoured.

“Er, Seonghwa, is… is this what you wanted?” Hongjoong asked, clearly bewildered and caught off guard. “To touch my face?”

Seonghwa hummed noncommittally, far too busy investigating the arch of his lips, finger tracing just shy of the plump, pink skin. “You have spectacular teeth for a pirate,” he remarked, prying open Hongjoong's mouth to inspect him like some deranged doctor.

When Seonghwa finally relented his hold, Hongjoong jerked back. “I think that's enough for tonight,” he said, rubbing his aching jaw as he swiftly pulled to his feet. “This is what I get for believing you normal, I suppose,” muttered Hongjoong lowly, eyes narrow but fond.

Though Hongjoong hadn't said anything funny, Seonghwa giggled, a small hiccup breaking the sweet rhythm. He fell back onto the bed with fluttering laughter, out like a light in a single instant. Hongjoong sighed, throwing the duvet over his exposed body, trying not to stare at the sliver of skin peeking out between his shirt and trousers. 

In the morning, when prompted, Seonghwa denied it all, insisting he remembered nothing of pinching Hongjoong's skin red and dislocating his jaw.

When Seojun finally gave them the go-ahead, declaring Seonghwa fully fit and healed, he jumped from the bed and began cleaning the immense clutter Hongjoong had left around the room.

“What does it matter?” Hongjoong argued. “We're leaving today, anyway. The innkeeper will clean it.”

“That's so disrespectful, Hongjoong!”

“It's their job!”

Naturally, Hongjoong lost the argument, grumpily helping Seonghwa tidy up before handing in their key at reception. By the time they left, it was mid-morning. 

Seonghwa skipped out of the inn, fully enjoying the unrestricted mobility of his legs. He twirled and jumped about, leading to Hongjoong making several comparisons to an overexcited bunny. Seonghwa pouted and grumbled childishly, making Hongjoong grin, endeared. It was then he decided to mention that, before they go pick up the bags Hongjoong has prepared for them, they were going to make a brief stop in the market to pick up something he'd forgotten.

There was slight wariness in Seonghwa’s mind, the memory of the last visit still fresh, but he shook it off, determined to not let it spoil the trip. The world around him was so new. He wanted to enjoy this freedom, no matter how fleeting, while it lasted. 

Walking through the market not on the cusp of a mental breakdown was a completely different experience. Contrary to his memory, the souls here were not vicious nor leering, and they were definitely not judging him with bitter hatred. The souls here were so… happy. Their faces were marked by smiles. Laughter, loud and raucous, filled the air, swaying to the melody of softly playing instruments. How could his mind have twisted such a wonderful place so viciously?

Seonghwa turned to watch Hongjoong as he bartered with a tall, jolly woman. He looked so relaxed and calm. That was another thing that Seonghwa couldn't quite comprehend. How a man so desperate could be so nonchalant. Could he be masking his panic? If so, he had been awfully calm about their week-long stay in this city. Was this a strategy? A chance to gather resources to better equip themselves for the challenge of taking on a god. Maybe overconfidence? Overwhelming faith that Wooyoung could keep himself from danger (though his track record seemed contradictory). Or, perhaps, something else? 

Seonghwa racked his brain until it hurt, and he looked into the bustling crowd, seeking refuge from his swimming thoughts. He traced their rushing bodies. Some knock shoulders, offering rushed apologies. Some noticed familiar faces and raised friendly greetings. Seonghwa smiled, the aching in his head settling.

Hongjoong turned with a flashy grin, shoving his hand into his pocket. “Alright, we’re good to go— Seonghwa?”

Instantly, Hongjoong's face fell, his eyes staring until they burnt. There, in the space Seonghwa once occupied, was nothing but dust.

Chapter Text

“Will you be okay from here?” Seonghwa asked, a small worried knot twisted in his brow.

“Oh, yes.” The elderly woman smiled, patting Seonghwa’s shoulder reassuringly. “You've been a wonderful help. Are you sure you won't come in for some tea?”

“I'd love to, but I really should be getting back now,” Seonghwa said with a grateful bow. He matched her smile effortlessly, his face smoothing into easy happiness as he waved the woman off, watching her disappear into her home now filled with three bags of groceries.

Seonghwa sighed, veins buzzing. A full, elated warmth filled his chest. He had helped someone! With his own two hands! He had helped the struggling woman, laughing and joking along the way. It was more than Seonghwa had ever wanted — normal human connection. 

Seonghwa turned, excited to boast to Hongjoong, only to remember he'd left him back at the market. Right, the market… Which way was that again?

Without much thought, Seonghwa turned back down the street he'd just come from. He followed the road until he recognised a vaguely familiar turn and, by some miracle, heard the relentless noise of the market. His pace picked up. 

Seonghwa was sure Hongjoong had noticed him gone by now. He really hadn't thought it would take so long. Initially, he had just wanted to see if the woman was okay. When he realised that she clearly wasn't, he couldn't resist the urge to help. He hadn’t meant for it to devolve into him running away with her.

Pushing his way through the throng of people, Seonghwa eventually made it back to the stall he'd left Hongjoong at. He greeted the tall woman half-heartedly, eyes scanning the area for Hongjoong. When Seonghwa failed to spot him, he turned his full attention to the woman.

“Sorry, but did you happen to see where the man I was with earlier went? He seems to have given me the slip.” Seonghwa smiled weakly, hoping it was more encouraging than it felt. 

“I saw him heading toward the tavern just down there.” The lady pointed somewhere far over Seonghwa’s head, making him twist to chase her line of sight. 

His eyes fell on a jagged building. It looked like hard, misshapen clay, as colourful as the grass was green (or used to be). He called a ‘thanks’ behind him and set off toward it, his eyes roaming the curving strokes of paint highlighting the otherwise plain brick. Although there was an array of drawings etched into the wall, the large looping stem of a purple flower caught his eye. It was magnificent. The petals were painted with such excellence they looked fresh and dewy.

Although it was pretty, Seonghwa wondered what had drawn Hongjoong here. His eyes passed a spattering of flowers. Marigolds, he recognised. Hongjoong seemed to have liked those. Perhaps his mind had moulded it into a sign worthy enough to follow. That seemed like his genre of stupidity, Seonghwa mused. 

The closer Seonghwa got to the tavern, the thinner the crowd got, the bustling noise shifting to loud, drunken joy — loud, drunken joy and… Hongjoong.

Seonghwa stopped in his tracks, eyes scouring the streets. His voice was too loud to be hidden behind tavern doors. It echoed and bounced, and though he could discern no word, he knew Hongjoong had to have been somewhere close by for Seonghwa to have heard him.

He looked to the eaves, tracing their coloured ledges, eventually scaling down the brick to glimpse windows and balconies. He came up short and cast his eyes lower, trailing the grey cobble, chalk long washed away, scrutinising the few souls strolling past until his eyes snagged on a dark alley beside the tavern. 

Creeping forward cautiously, Seonghwa strained his ears, hearing faint shuffling and grunted words. Carefully peering down the street, he squinted, eyes adjusting to the darkness, as he tried to follow the fast shadows.

Seonghwa's jaw fell when he saw it. Hongjoong, sword drawn, danced between the murderous blades of five or so masked men, slicing at their flesh as he taunted them in a cocky, mocking tone.

Seonghwa bit his lip, rising, fiery panic settling into his bones. He looked around desperately, mind running too fast for him to think. Should he try to help? Would he just be getting in the way if he did? Still, Seonghwa couldn't leave Hongjoong to deal with five bloodthirsty lunatics. 

He recalled what that soul had done to his leg and tried to ignore the sick concoction of fear and anxiety that the memory evoked inside of him. Seonghwa couldn't understand Hongjoong at all. Why on earth was he provoking such souls? Had death made him brave, or had he always been this stupid?

Seonghwa's sharp eyes caught a slinking figure slipping through the shadows behind Hongjoong. The only twinkle of light was that of their sharp, pointed sword. It was aimed straight for Hongjoong's chest. Seonghwa’s heart leaped in fear, spotting their figure shift, evidently preparing to strike.

In a flurry of blinding panic, Seonghwa reached behind him. His fingers brushed something hard and clay-like. Seonghwa latched onto it and pulled his arm forward, hurtling it toward the stranger's head. It struck them just as they stepped out to pierce Hongjoong. 

The shatter was bone-crushing. So brutally hard that they crumpled to the floor and smacked their head against the cold stone. Seonghwa winced, looking up only to immediately catch Hongjoong's eyes in the darkness. There, curled on his lip, was a sickening grin.

“Nice throw,” he called, gutting his sword through the ribs of another armed stranger. 

The remaining three assailants shifted at the sound of Hongjoong's voice, finally noticing Seonghwa lurking at the mouth of the alley. They moved in an instant. Before Seonghwa could run, their enraged faces appeared in front of him. They lunge for him. His throat. His chest. His head. Their swords were vicious and merciless. Seonghwa was certain they'd catch him — slit his throat quicker than he could blink — but Hongjoong was before him in a moment, sword clanking as he held them back.

“Go,” Hongjoong hissed through gritted teeth, brow marked with a line of sweat. “You need to run. I can handle it.”

But Seonghwa could see that was not true. Three crazy, malicious souls against one Hongjoong was still three crazy, malicious souls. They would wear him down eventually. Hongjoong was not infallible. And judging by the way the one on the ground was wailing about the ‘Pirate King,’ this was not going to end simply with their incapacitation. 

One night, when Hongjoong had been too sleepy to think twice, he had told Seonghwa of the dangers of his title. He’d warned him. Never speak of the Pirate King. It only brought trouble. He said that rule applied anywhere but especially down here. Most of his enemies were dead, after all.

“I-I can't leave you here,” Seonghwa protested, feeling somewhat helpless as he stared at Hongjoong's strained frame. 

“Just start running,” Hongjoong grunted. “I'll follow after. I promise.”

Seonghwa chewed his cheek, torn. Promises weren't something Hongjoong was particularly good at, but Seonghwa knew that they were running out of time. The noise inside the tavern was transforming into something equally loud but confused. Once that confusion turned to rage, they would be in serious trouble. Here, Seonghwa admitted to himself reluctantly, he was more a liability than help.

“You better not break your promise again,” he yelled, feet picking into a desperate sprint.

There was only one place Seonghwa could think to run to. The market. It was exceptionally busy, dense enough to lose yourself, and hectic in a way that would hopefully sow chaos into the mob of confused people scared by the strangers with swords.

There was a loud clatter behind him, the distinct ring of clashing swords and a deafening bang. Seonghwa glanced back, a long-withheld breath falling from his lips when he saw Hongjoong sprinting after him. He was tempted to slow down and allow Hongjoong to catch up, but his fear spiked the second he saw a horde of enraged souls tumble from the tavern doors, a deadly showcase of long swords and knives clasped in their hands. With a heavy heart, Seonghwa whipped his head back, fearful he might ram into a brick wall accidentally. He hoped Hongjoong was fast enough to catch him.

Quickly wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, Seonghwa submerged himself in the crowd, small subconscious apologies falling from his lips as he pushed through. He had no real plan of where he was going — just through and out with no thought of after — but his body moved like it knew, storming headfirst, trying to put as much distance between him and the angry mob behind him before chaos ensued.

Seonghwa's stamina wasn't the best in general, but after being bedridden the entire week, it was abysmal. Already he felt the pang of a blooming pain in his side, his breath coming out worn and ragged. His feet staggered, beginning to protest movement. Nonetheless, he gritted his teeth and ran and ran until he was sharply tugged to the side, his feet stumbling until he was falling into a hard chest. He pushed against the firm grasp, struggling to his feet, and looked up quickly.

“Found you.” Hongjoong grinned.

A note of noise fell from Seonghwa, but before he could say anything, a horrified scream broke out. High shrill shrieking. Their heads darted in the direction of the sound, bodies bashing into them as panic heightened within the crowd.

“They're here,” mumbled Hongjoong, his grip on Seonghwa’s arm tightening slightly as he eyed the invasion of merciless souls stomping through the market. The weight of Hongjoong's hand shifted in a moment, slipping from Seonghwa's arm to grasp his palm. “Follow me.”

Before Seonghwa could process anything, he was being tugged after Hongjoong. His pace was fast but not unbearable as he swiftly pulled them from the crowd, slipping through a nearby backstreet where his feet kicked up into a run. Seonghwa forced his aching legs to follow.

His heart was beating in his throat, thumping so forcefully Seonghwa struggled to swallow it back down. He couldn't stop staring. Especially not with their twined hands dangling directly in front of him, swaying as he focused only on the warmth settled between their skin and not tripping over his own two feet as Hongjoong led him around a sharp corner. 

It was strange. He'd taken Hongjoong's hand before and it had never felt like this. So purposeful and so deliberate. His skin tingled, little sparking fires igniting where he met Hongjoong’s touch. They were holding hands. Seonghwa was holding someone’s hand.

They darted through the streets, weaving between the narrow paths until Seonghwa’s lungs seized with pain and he forced Hongjoong to stop. Hongjoong quickly dragged them into the shadows of an alley, tight enough that had he and Hongjoong stood side by side, they wouldn't have been able to move.

“It’s not far now,” Hongjoong said, slipping out of Seonghwa’s hand to rub soothing circles on his back instead.

Seonghwa felt like shit. Hot and sweaty, like he couldn’t breathe properly, chest heavy and sore from rapid contraction. His body was thrumming, alive like the quiver of harp strings ignited in endless song. It was utterly humiliating, rising shame mixing with the strange mixture of fear and frustration within him.

“Who…” Seonghwa swallowed another mouthful of air, his throat parched and scratchy. “Who the hell were they?”

Hongjoong shook his head, peering out of the alley to scan the street outside. “Doesn't matter,” he said absentmindedly. “We need to leave.”

“Doesn't matter?” Seonghwa repeated slowly under heavy breaths, brows pinched. “Doesn't matter? Hongjoong, we almost died!”

“We can’t die,” Hongjoong reminded him, his voice cold and withdrawn. Thoughtless. Seonghwa gritted his teeth and pulled back, sinking deeper into the darkness.

Anger. Pure lava burnt through his veins, sparking a fiery rage within his stomach. A frustration so overwhelming it sprung hot, beading tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Does that matter?” Seonghwa snapped, voice cracking with pain and undeniable fear. “We’ll still feel it. Everything they do to us… I—” A sniffle broke his words. The small, pathetic sound instantly drew Hongjoong’s sharp gaze. His eyes softened the moment they met Seonghwa’s face. “Hongjoong, I’m not as brave as you. I…” A tear slipped down his cheek. Seonghwa tried to breathe through it, but it came out as a sob, his body shaking uncontrollably as the sound wrecked through him. “I’m scared,” he admitted meekly, barely audible between frightened cries.

Hongjoong stepped forward, eyes round and wide. For a few seconds, he looked helpless, unsure what to say — how to act. Then, he tentatively opened his arms. Hongjoong slowly reached toward Seonghwa, granting enough time to shove him away and spit in his face. But Seonghwa didn't. He allowed it.

“I'm sorry,” Hongjoong whispered, bringing Seonghwa’s shaking body into his chest. His arms were warm and solid, and Seonghwa collapsed into them. His hands clutched the fabric of his shirt as he buried his face deep into the crook of Hongjoong’s neck. “Seonghwa, I'm so sorry.”

And there was nothing more Hongjoong could say, certain Seonghwa’s wails would drown out any explanation he might have prepared.

When Seonghwa’s cries softened, Hongjoong pulled the man back. His hands were gentle as he pried Seonghwa's face from the wet patch he’d made on his shoulder. Hongjoong’s remorseful eyes scanned Seonghwa’s face, glistening with a mix of tears and sweat. His dark hair was stuck to his forehead, poking his big, puffy eyes. Hongjoong reached out to brush it back. Seonghwa stilled at the sudden touch and slowly looked at him, his red-rimmed eyes still glassy and raw.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said, the name falling with a fondness Seonghwa hadn’t expected. He blinked, a little confused by Hongjoong’s actions. One moment, cold. The next, warm. Seonghwa couldn’t make sense of the man. “You’re allowed to be scared.” Hongjoong's hand was feather-light as he traced the tear tracks forced into Seonghwa’s cheeks with his thumb. “I was scared too when I lost you. I thought something seriously bad had happened.”

Seonghwa struggled to smile, but his heart lifted with the memories from earlier nonetheless. “I was helping an elderly woman,” he explained, voice knotted and heavy.

Hongjoong's lip twitched, the smallest curl of endearment gone in a flash. “Of course you were,” mumbled Hongjoong under a breath Seonghwa barely heard.

A loud scream cut the silence between them. Seonghwa stiffened, heart thudding as he looked at Hongjoong. A series of booming shouts resounded in his ears, their echo haunting the tight alley. 

“We should get going,” Hongjoong said, sucking in a tense breath. His eyes were pinned somewhere distant, far beyond where the border of shadow lingered at the mouth of the alley. “It's not safe here.” Hongjoong's feet moved, already moving to scour the main street. Seonghwa watched his back, sniffling and doing his best to clear his blurry vision. 

When Hongjoong turned back, his sharp eyes rounded, roaming the red contours of Seonghwa's face gently. “C'mon,” he called, softly jerking his head back as if to beckon Seonghwa forward. “I'll tell you what happened later. We need to get moving.” Hongjoong looked antsy, his body shifting like he was desperately restraining his instincts. “The street won't stay clear for long. Madness is spreading, and soon the entire city will be thrown into a frenzy. We need to be long gone by then,” he continued, eyes flickering between Seonghwa and the road. 

Seonghwa bit his lip, unmoving. His hands clenched at his sides, so tightly they plunged into the soft flesh of his palm, sending electric pulses of aching pain. But that was fine. It grounded him. 

Noticing Seonghwa’s reluctance, Hongjoong pulled from the street, taking long, cautious steps toward the prince. “Seonghwa, please.” Hongjoong’s voice was careful, delicate in a way that one might approach a frightened bunny with. Seonghwa found his eyes. They were searching, scanning Seonghwa's face, looking for something. Perhaps his fear. Maybe his common sense. More than likely, his understanding. “We can stay no longer.”

Seonghwa released a long, heavy breath, his shoulders immediately feeling lighter without the constraint. “I know,” he replied, mouth twisting like it wanted to say more but was suppressed. Before Hongjoong could ask, Seonghwa brushed past him, his long hair fluttering from the swift movement. “Let's go.”

Although Seonghwa took the lead, he waited for Hongjoong to take the first step, inhaling a deep breath before breaking the line of shadow and chasing after Hongjoong once more. Hongjoong didn't take his hand a second time. He simply turned and told Seonghwa to follow. 

Truthfully, and perhaps a little stupidly, Seonghwa found himself left with a single pang of disappointment as he chased the silhouette of a man Seonghwa most certainly shouldn’t have felt this way for. The sounds of their laboured breaths mixed with the clamour of their pounding feet, a constant tune Seonghwa forced himself to focus on instead.

After an excruciatingly long trek, Hongjoong slowed, turning one final corner before coming to a complete halt. Immediately, Seonghwa folded in half, hands on his knees, panting like every breath was his last.

“Quiet now,” Hongjoong shushed, holding up a palm. Seonghwa couldn’t help but roll his eyes. If he could be quiet, Seonghwa would've done it. Unfortunately, he was so exhausted that he couldn't even think of a coherent thought, never mind a biting retort.

“Need a…” Seonghwa took a breath, “...second.”

“Fine, stay here.” Hongjoong said. There was something stern in his voice that told Seonghwa he'd grown distrustful after his disappearance earlier. If Seonghwa had the air to spare, he would've huffed, offended. “I'll be right back.”  

Seonghwa nodded weakly, listening to the whine of unoiled hinges and the dull thud of heavy boots. His mind was a mess, his heart clenched with the pain of unexpected exercise, and his lungs were tight, every breath simultaneously too little yet too much. So he stayed, eyes closed, mind blank, drifting in the dark twisting shapes that contorted behind his eyelids. It was a space of nothing. No thought. No turmoil. Just breath.

When Seonghwa felt he had enough strength to not pass out, he raised his head, finally able to take in just what Hongjoong had been so adamant they reach. It was… well, hardly a building at all — practically scrap wood pieced together by a five year old with terrible hand-eye coordination. It was filthy, streaked with grime, and basically on its last legs. Seonghwa seriously feared the dilapidated heap of wood would collapse before Hongjoong ever re-emerged. And then where would Seonghwa be? Trapped in the Underworld with no sign of escape.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong called unexpectedly.

Seonghwa jumped, eyes latching onto Hongjoong's figure, half obscured by the rackety, old stable doors. “Hongjoong?” he questioned, a hand pressed to his beating heart.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

“You didn't,” Seonghwa replied a little too quickly.

“Alright,” said Hongjoong slowly, evidently disbelieving of Seonghwa’s denial. “I need you to be very, very calm, okay?” 

Seonghwa’s face furrowed in confusion. “Uh, okay?” 

“Like very calm.”

“Alright?” Seonghwa nodded cautiously.

“I'm serious,” Hongjoong said, eyes firm and unyielding. “You need to be calm.”

“Yes, okay, I get it.” Seonghwa sighed loudly. “The more you say that, the less calm I feel.”

“Oh, sorry.” Hongjoong smiled sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “Just stay calm, okay?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes as Hongjoong disappeared behind the shabby, squeaking doors. The man was ridiculous, his own insistence bringing forth an anxious swelling in Seonghwa’s chest. He held his hands together tightly, his mind a sea of thoughts, each more worrisome than the last. Seonghwa tried to will it away, but Hongjoong's strange behaviour lingered in his mind like a tongue-twisting rhyme, relentless in its noise.

The door creaked, prompting Seonghwa to look over. His body seized where he stood, his muscles locking with a cold not even lava could melt.

“H-Hongjoong?” His voice was weak, blocked by a mangled knot in his throat. Fear twisted like a starved snake around his heart, tighter and tighter until his body felt light and his head faint. 

Hongjoong turned casually — as if he were not standing next to a gigantic creature twice his size — and waved Seonghwa over, patting the creature's hide encouragingly.

Seonghwa couldn't believe what he was seeing. A strange figure loomed before him, horse-like yet distinctly not — an animalistic portrait composed by an artist who had never seen a horse, simply mixed whatever vague description they’d been given with tragic folk tales starring uncanny monsters. 

Its legs were thin and knobbly, almost skeletal with how hollow the leathery skin wrapped around each bone was. No fur softened the flesh. Only dripping mist coated its skin, oddly reminiscent of that horrifying soul he'd encountered last week. When its long head shifted, ruffling the tangled strings of matted hair that made up a scarce mane, Seonghwa caught its eye and startled. White. An eternal nothing — completely soulless and void. It was eerie. Strange and unnatural in a way that unnerved Seonghwa and sent him taking long steps back until his body hit stone and he could no longer.

A huff of smoke erupted from the creature’s nostrils, a dense, white cloud that dissipated into air too warm to condense breath. It confused Seonghwa even further. And, as most unexplainable things were, Seonghwa found it horrifying. The creature shouldn't exist. It was a baffling amalgamation of wispy ghost and terrifying monster. Too much of one to be considered the other.

Seonghwa breathed out heavily, vindicated when his breath remained invisible, and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “I am not going near that thing.” 

Finally, Hongjoong turned from the creature. “I'm getting a strange sense of deja vu here,” he remarked, an amused smirk curving the corner of his lip. “Look.” Hongjoong sighed, reaching for the thing’s clump of knotted hair. The creature made a loud, piercing noise as Hongjoong carelessly ruffled his hand through the dirty nest, spooking Seonghwa so much he jumped. “Not a thing. A horse.” Hongjoong laughed as the horse’s face twisted, muzzle nosing into his cheek, nuzzling fondly into his head. Seonghwa tensed, his heartbeat picking up a few dozen paces. 

He didn’t understand how Hongjoong could be so nonchalant. And laughing? That thing looked like it could eat him whole, and Hongjoong was laughing. So intrinsically melodic and warm too, soft but gruff around the edges. Real . Seonghwa had never heard Hongjoong like that, and now he was laughing at a so-called ‘horse’. He simply couldn't make sense of that man. Fearless or outright stupid seemed to be a question he pondered far too often these days.

“Isn't she adorable?” he asked, completely uncaring for the fact the horse was now chewing on his hair.

Seonghwa didn’t respond for a few moments, glaring at where the horse's mouth gnawed on Hongjoong’s longer strands. The creature’s jaw was completely exposed as its abnormally white teeth crushed together. A long slit split the skin along the muzzle, showcasing the unhinged bone beneath. No horse Seonghwa had ever seen looked like this, he thought, eyeing the glistening mist dripping continuously from its wide mouth, flowing like the constant trickle of blood from an open wound. A few droplets fell onto Hongjoong’s hair, where they went up in a sizzle of smoke and disappeared.

“That's certainly an opinion… I suppose,” Seonghwa replied slowly. “Why does it look so…”

“Gross?”

“I wasn't going to say that.”

“But you wouldn't deny it,” Hongjoong said, stepping forward and forcing the horse to release hold of his hair. Seonghwa watched bitterly as a few gleaming strands fluttered to the floor. “I see why you're surprised. The animals in the city tend to be… softer looking, let's say. Most of them died, but she—” Hongjoong jerked his head back, motioning to the horse. “She was born here. A pure product of death,” he explained, pausing before quickly adding, “It’s what'll make her the perfect companion on our journey.”

“She's coming with us?” Seonghwa blurted, louder than he had intended. 

“Yes.” Hongjoong nodded. “Now, would it kill you to come say hello? She can smell fear, you know?”

At the thought, Seonghwa’s limbs stiffened. “That is not as encouraging as you think.”

Hongjoong shook his head and moved to grab the horse’s reins. Seonghwa scowled, watching his motions with careful curiosity, not quite able to understand what he was doing. Tugging the horse forward, Hongjoong guided the creature closer to Seonghwa, immediately sending a shock of alarm through him. 

“No, wait, stop!” Seonghwa cried in fright, waving his hands urgently in front of him, hoping they would stop before they got too close. “I-I'll come to you.”

Taking a deep breath, Seonghwa took a step forward. His entire body moved with the fluidity of a tumbling rockslide, jagged and discoordinated. It was almost as if he’d completely forgotten how to walk. A sight Hongjoong seemed to find hilarious.

Seonghwa glowered in petulance, a petty pout forming on his lips as Hongjoong’s laugh quietened. When he was close enough, Seonghwa managed to summon enough courage to raise his hand to the horse’s muzzle, the rational part of his mind desperately pleading with him to step away from the terrifyingly giant undead horse.

He flinched when the horse whined, knocking into his hand so suddenly he jumped and jerked his hand back into his chest, cradling it as if he truly had been bitten. Hongjoong was beside him before he could blink, a sigh falling from his lips when he realised Seonghwa was completely fine. Instead of saying anything to encourage Seonghwa, Hongjoong took his perfectly uninjured hand from where it was nestled in his chest and drew it closer. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said, pulling his hand back against Hongjoong’s hold.

“Relax,” he whispered, breath hitting the side of Seonghwa’s cheek. “She can feel your fright. It unsettles her.”

Seonghwa didn’t say anything. He didn’t think he could if he tried. A large lump lodged itself in his throat, cutting his voice until there was none left to spare. Seonghwa squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch as Hongjoong brought him closer to the creature. In the darkness, he focused on his breath, or rather, lack thereof. He worked his lungs back to life, reminding them of the motions required to not faint, and braced himself for bleeding pain.

Not a moment after the thought, Seonghwa found his hand tracing shockingly soft skin. Warm, he noted, almost hot to the touch. His eyes opened wide when he felt something wet slip down his arm.

A nose, he realised. The horse was nuzzling its wet nose into his arm. Seonghwa met its eye with shock. They were white but not empty — certainly not soulless as he’d first thought. They were deep, almost twinkling as they peered into him. Something strange stirred inside Seonghwa, something warm and oddly endeared.

He seemed to understand at that moment that peculiar fondness Hongjoong held. The creature truly was just an animal. A horse. A product of where it had been born. As innocent and pure as unfiltered moonlight.

“See? Harmless,“ Hongjoong said suddenly, startling Seonghwa.

When had he moved away? For how long had Seonghwa been stroking the horse of his own free will?

He looked down at his hand in wonder, watching his fingers trace furless skin, dark as ebony. The horse continued to nudge against him, almost as an encouragement. Seonghwa knew she recognised his unease, but he wondered whether this was her way of soothing it.

“Does she have a name?” he found himself asking.

Hongjoong paused for a moment. “Uh, horse?”

Seonghwa’s face flattened, disbelieving. “Seriously? Horse?”

“I don't know. I've never thought about that.” Hongjoong shrugged.

Seonghwa frowned. “How can you not name her?” he asked, stroking down her face like she was the most precious creature to walk this plane of existence.

“If you hate it so much, you can name her,” Hongjoong offered offhandedly, busy fumbling around in one of the bags he'd dragged out of the stable.

Seonghwa pulled away, allowing the horse to raise its lowered head and stand to full height. For a long few seconds, he stared, deliberating, the sounds of Hongjoong’s rustling filling the air.

“Marigold,” Seonghwa decided, turning and finding Hongjoong’s eyes already set on him. “So you'll never forget your promise to me.”

Hongjoong raised a brow. “Which is?

“To bring me a marigold.” Seonghwa smiled, emulating the devilishness of Hongjoong’s usual grin. “As an apology.”

“I promised no such thing.” Hongjoong scowled, pulling to his feet and walking back to Seonghwa.

“No,” Seonghwa said, “but I think you owe it to me.” 

Hongjoong could scowl all he wanted, but Seonghwa could spot his amusement a mile away.

Giving Marigold one last pet, Seonghwa turned with a glint of playfulness in his eyes. Hongjoong met him head on, stopping perhaps a little closer than he should've, arms folded, fists clenched shut. Surprisingly, instead of arguing, Seonghwa watched as Hongjoong tilted his head and agreed, eyes as soft as cotton tufts. 

“What?” Seonghwa gawked, shocked by the lack of disagreement.

“Perhaps I do,” Hongjoong repeated. “Owe it to you, I mean.”

“You’re…” Seonghwa’s eyes scoured him, first eyeing his head for any evident trauma and then his body for signs of blood loss induced kindness. “You’re being weird. Stop it.”

“You told me I should be nicer to you, and this is what I get?” Hongjoong laughed.

When Seonghwa simply stared in lieu of a response, Hongjoong shook his head and uncrossed his arms. “Alright,” he said, raising his hand and unfurling his fingers to reveal perhaps the ugliest necklace Seonghwa had ever seen. “I want you to put this around your neck, and under no circumstance are you to remove it, okay?”

“Why?” questioned Seonghwa, leaning closer to stare unyieldingly at the necklace. It was a simple brown string tied messily around a dull, grey stone swathed in dirty, coarse fabric, the edges unglued by age. “It looks just like a regular necklace to me— unless it's like one of those weird dolls they warn about in fairy tales. The ones you put hair trimmings in so you can control people?”

“What? No! Why would you— never mind.” A loud, exasperated sigh drew from Hongjoong's lips. “Just take it, will you?” He huffed, shoving the necklace into Seonghwa's palms. “Keeps you safe out there.”

“Safe from what?”

“Plenty of things.” Hongjoong shrugged. “Rogues, spirits, imps. Think of it as an amulet. Wards away all the bad things, and what it doesn't keep away, I'll deal with.”

Twisting his lips in thought, Seonghwa inspected the necklace with a note of scepticism. It certainly looked unlike any amulet he'd read about. Seonghwa supposed that books did tend to embellish certain aspects of facts, but even this was a little hard to believe. The thing looked decrepit. It was hideous, beyond filthy. Seonghwa felt he would become sickly from just holding it for a few moments.

“Also great at keeping bugs off you while you sleep,” Hongjoong added upon noticing Seonghwa’s hesitation.

Without another thought, Seonghwa pulled the necklace over his head. “There are bugs here?”

“Sure.” Hongjoong looked away, taking large steps toward Marigold. 

“Hongjoong, truly?” Seonghwa asked, a hint of urgency heightening his tone. Ignoring the prince, Hongjoong busied himself with fixing the horse's saddle. “Hongjoong,” Seonghwa called, a frown forming between his brows. Hongjoong turned, bending to pick up one of the large bags lying on the floor. Seonghwa swiftly intercepted him. “Hongjoong, tell me.”

“If there are animals, it’s logical to assume insects follow, no?” Hongjoong flashed a sarcastic smile and lugged the bag over his shoulder, walking a few paces to fix it to Marigold's saddle. Seonghwa followed like a lost puppy.

“That's assuming they have souls,” he retorted. “In some scriptures I've read, they simply reincarnate.”

“I thought you didn't believe in gods?” said Hongjoong absentmindedly, too focused on fixing the latches onto the bag to pay Seonghwa a single glance.

“I don't,” Seonghwa reaffirmed quickly. “Some things are just unavoidable.” 

Hongjoong didn't reply immediately, hands straining under the weight of the bag. Seonghwa observed him, how the cuffs of his jacket slipped just far enough to expose the small part of his forearms under his wrists. Seonghwa could tell he'd built up a lot of strength over the years. Even underneath layers of thick fabric, his back muscles flexed.

“I wonder what you're going to do once we meet Death,” muttered Hongjoong, so muffled Seonghwa almost failed to catch it.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you don’t believe in gods,” he said, much louder than before. “How are you going to communicate with someone you do not think exists?”

“Why would I need to talk to Death?” Frowned Seonghwa, puzzled. “I thought that was your job?”

Hongjoong stilled, his body freezing for a moment or two. Tense, he glanced sparingly over his shoulder. So quick Seonghwa blinked, and it was as if he hadn't moved at all. “You're right,” Hongjoong replied, voice deflated and absent. Seonghwa waited for him to continue, but nothing else followed, leaving Seonghwa with an odd feeling in his chest.

When all of their bags were securely strapped onto Marigold's saddle, Hongjoong wordlessly helped Seonghwa onto the horse. Seonghwa had never ridden before and told Hongjoong as much, but he merely grunted and lifted him anyway. A spark of fear bloomed within Seonghwa, and he pinned himself to Marigold's hollow neck. There wasn't much to grip onto, but Seonghwa did so like his life depended on it.

Hongjoong easily situated himself behind Seonghwa, prying him from the horse's neck. “I told you not to be scared,” Hongjoong said, his arms sliding around Seonghwa's waist as he reached for the reins. “You're frightening her. You need to relax.”

“Easier said than done,” mumbled Seonghwa, praying his thudding heartbeat wasn't as loud as it seemed.

“We need to leave now, but we can't with a startled horse,” reminded Hongjoong.

Swallowing, Seonghwa squeezed his eyes closed, hoping to dispel some of the dizziness swirling behind them. His nerves were on fire. Actually, his entire body felt engulfed by flame. Anxiety and fear and some other unnameable feeling churned together in his stomach. 

“I've never ridden a horse.” 

“So you’ve said.”

“And I don't want to fall,” Seonghwa admitted shyly. “It's so high.”

Unexpectedly, Seonghwa felt Hongjoong shift behind him, his arms tightening around his waist, pulling Seonghwa until his back was nestled into Hongjoong's warm chest. They were so close Seonghwa could feel Hongjoong's steady heartbeat thump against his back.

“I've got you. You won't fall,” Hongjoong said, his voice little more than a whisper murmured into his ear. “Just breathe. Touch her mane.” Dropping the reins in his right palm, Hongjoong cupped Seonghwa’s hand and guided him to Marigold's white mane. “Trust us.” Seonghwa’s fingers stroked down the long strands, not quite rough but not exactly soft to touch either. It was a nice but decidedly strange feeling. “Neither of us will let you fall.”

The journey from the city was a blur, Seonghwa's mind distracted by a mixture of unsettled feelings. It was more than just unease born from the unknown. It was everything. The height. The speed. The uncertainty. The uncomfortableness of a jerky ride. It all tore at his mind, tugging one way then the next. It made Seonghwa feel ill, or rather, it would’ve had his mind not become ensnared by one specific constant. One very distracting constant.

Despite sharing a bed for a week, Seonghwa was completely flustered by the proximity (or lack thereof) between him and Hongjoong. They were flushed together, bodies moving in sync with one another as they bobbed up and down. Where his mind had first fixated upon the terrifying speed and the very real chance of him falling off, it now focused on the shared heat between them. How hard Hongjoong’s chest felt pressed into him. Seonghwa tried to be careful, but the ride was unsteady, and there was little he could do to prevent his body from curling into Hongjoong. He felt so steady, his arms the perfect firmness to keep him upright.

With Hongjoong behind him, the ride wasn't as bad as Seonghwa had thought it would be. Unfamiliar and jolting at first, too fast and bumpy, but slowly, ever so slowly, Seonghwa's mind began to clear, and though it was certainly not exactly comfortable, he grew used to it.

He took the momentary clarity to focus on the world around him. Even with his eyes closed, he would've been able to tell the exact moment he and Hongjoong had passed the city gates. A low howl picked up in the air, and Seonghwa grew instantly colder.

Around him was a rocky wastescape, worse than the prickly grass and hard dirt. It was a grey nothing. Just one mountainous pile of rocks after another, clouded in shadows and dripping with mist that flowed like ichor.

The sky was dark, darker than Seonghwa had grown used to, and his eyes struggled to adjust, especially with the plumes of dust Marigold kicked into the air. Something in the air felt heavy. A knot of worry bloomed within Seonghwa. He had a bad feeling. A very bad feeling.

“Are you going to tell me what happened earlier, or were you just hoping I'd forget?” Seonghwa found himself asking, hoping to distract himself from the twisting in his gut. 

Immediately, Seonghwa felt Hongjoong’s body tense around him. “Uh, the latter?” 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said, his tone a stern warning.

“Fine, fine. I'll tell you. No need to bite my head off,” Hongjoong huffed, defeated, and his grip on the reins tightened ever so slightly. Seonghwa doubted he would've ever noticed had he not been paying such close attention to the man. “When you disappeared, I looked around the market for a bit. Asked a dozen or so people if they’d seen you. It quickly became apparent that you'd left, so I decided to wander around for a bit — tried to put myself in your head.”

Seonghwa’s lips thinned. “And you thought I'd be at a tavern?”

Hongjoong shrugged nonchalantly, his chest pressing impossibly closer to Seonghwa. “It was pretty enough,” he said. And, though Seonghwa could not see him, he knew for certain he was smirking. “I don't know if you've noticed, but you tend to stare at pretty things.”

“No, I don't.”

Seonghwa could feel Hongjoong’s burning stare, but he remained in stubborn denial regardless. “Alright, well, I figured you might've waited there. Away from the crowd. Music. Potential food. Plenty to look at,” Hongjoong reasoned. “Seemed like somewhere you'd wander.”

“I feel I should be offended,” replied Seonghwa, his nose pointed high in the air.

“Go ahead, but you asked.” Laughed Hongjoong. Seonghwa huffed, lips pursing. Hongjoong paid his petulance no mind. “When I didn't see you inside, I took a side exit, but it seemed I was followed — said I ruined their lives or something,” explained Hongjoong. “Personally, I didn't remember them, but people tend to blame me for things I didn't actually do, so I wasn't too surprised.”

Seonghwa paused, his brain latching onto the statement. “Like what?” he asked, curious.

“People tend to assume a king has rule over its subjects, right? They attribute the same assumption to a Pirate King. One pirate’s wrongdoing is my own, and though they may fear and hate me, they'll happily give me the credit for any grievances people may hold.” Hongjoong’s laugh was nothing but bitter, and it left a sour taste in Seonghwa’s mouth. “The title is nothing but a burden. Once they'd caught wind of my appearance, people fell over themselves in excitement. Everyone wants to bring down the Pirate King. I'm quite infamous, you know?” 

“So I've heard,” mused Seonghwa. 

“The entire city is probably looking for me, or I guess ‘us,’ now.” Hongjoong’s voice settled into something softer and infinitely more playful. “How’s it feel to be my official partner in crime?”

“Pretty exhausting.” Seonghwa yawned. He hadn’t meant to, his hand subconsciously coming to cover his mouth before he could stifle it. A rush of embarrassing heat flooded his face when he realised.

“You can nap if you want,” offered Hongjoong, the amusement evident in his voice. “I'll wake you when we're setting up camp.”

Seonghwa needed only a moment of deliberation to make up his mind. “How can I sleep like this?” Seonghwa said, motioning to their position straddling the horse. “It'll be so uncomfortable!”

“Alright, well, the offer remains anyway.”

Despite his words, it took only a few minutes for Seonghwa’s eyelids to begin fluttering, his head drooping until it rested upon Hongjoong’s shoulder. When Seonghwa’s breaths lightened, and an unflattering wheeze pulled from his lips, Hongjoong knew he had found peace within his dreams and smiled.

Amongst the chaos of the city, wickedness broke the crowd, diverting their mayhem long enough to trace the steps of the Pirate King back to a haggard, old stable. But there, where dim lantern light embellished the slick grime clinging to the cobble, they had lost his trail.

“We lost them,” hissed a gruff voice, rough and breathless. He took a few long strides and punched his boot straight through a crate. It burst and splintered, sharp wooden daggers shooting from the impact.

A slender woman cloaked in red stepped forward, her grin curving and sly. “Not for long,” she said, her voice like velvet. 

Every eye turned, their attention and their rage pinned solely on her. It only made her grin wider. From out of her long, draping robe she pulled a glistening, golden globe, its shine undiminishable even in the foggy light.

“What is it?” a stout man from the crowd asked.

Her grin curved until it was unnatural and slit into her cheekbones. “An artefact,” she replied, snapping her fingers.

The stout man released a startled yelp as a cloaked figure pricked his finger, blood already beading on the tip. 

“You want to find your king? Offer your blood to me.”

Chapter Text

It was about a week into their journey when they found themselves at a crossroads. 

“It should be here,” Hongjoong insisted, twisting his map every possible way imaginable.

“Well, you either got it wrong or we took a wrong turn,” Seonghwa said unhelpfully, coming up behind him and snatching away the map.

The paper rattled as Seonghwa straightened it in his hands. His lips pursed in thought, his eyes scrutinising the tanned page as he stepped closer to the large, jagged rock blocking their path. It stretched up into a mountainous stone face that reached high above where the fog blocked their vision. There was supposed to be a passage here. A path cleaved into the rock that would allow them to venture through.

It was unfortunate, but no matter how Seonghwa looked at it, Hongjoong's map was wrong. Where there should’ve been a slit in the stone, there was only a rough, unmovable wall.

“Every map in the city library said there was a passage,” Hongjoong murmured, unable to believe he had been wrong. Seonghwa imagined it was not a reality he had to face often.

Seonghwa turned, rolling the map into his palm and handing it back to Hongjoong. “Is it possible that they are simply old and outdated? Because do tell me, Hongjoong, how you plan to walk through solid rock.”

Hongjoong's jaw tensed, but he didn't respond, opting to instead take his anger out on the small loose stones scattered across the ground. They skitter, airborne for a few moments before crashing into larger, sturdier rocks, leaving a trail of unsettled dust. Seonghwa ignored him, the dull sounds quietening as he lost himself to the racing ideas inside his mind. If they could not go through and they could not go up, the only other way was around.

A loud, ringing bang echoed, followed shortly by a piercing whinny and the beat of horse hooves against hard stone. Seonghwa turned just in time to catch the horse's rear skid out of sight.

“Shit!” Hongjoong cursed, already sprinting after Marigold.

Left with little choice, Seonghwa took off after them, worried to be left alone in the middle of nowhere. He couldn't help but curse. They should've known by now to tie Marigold up when they grew frustrated. It only agitated her, and the last thing they needed was to lose their horse and be forced to walk the rest of their journey. 

All around him was stone, so painfully grey it bored Seonghwa to look at it too long. It stacked high, spiralling into looming pillars that cast dark shadows over his path already cloaked by fog. It was frustratingly thick, making it incredibly hard to keep track of Hongjoong, especially given the evident difference in speed between the two. Seonghwa continued forward as best he could, but despite his best efforts, he lost Hongjoong's silhouette amongst the misty maze of rock. 

Seonghwa folded instantly, bracing himself on his knees, wheezing as his lungs clawed for air. Mouth agape, he pined for the water he'd left in his bag still attached to Marigold's saddle. Seonghwa felt completely breathless, muscles aching dully as a sharp pain in his side repeatedly stabbed into him. 

Completely defeated, Seonghwa hobbled toward a nearby wall and weakly lowered himself to the ground. He leaned back, expecting a less than comfortable backrest, only to be met with pure panic and the horrifically familiar feeling of freefall.

His heart turned leaden in his chest as he fell, every emotion and digestible food coming up at once as a strangled cry spilt from his lips. 

Freezing air whipped his cheeks, his fumbling limbs struck by seizing wind. For a terrifying few seconds, Seonghwa was certain his bones were about to shatter into a million splintering pieces. Then, he landed — bounced, actually — and was spat unceremoniously onto a cold, hard floor, bones unsplintered.

Seonghwa blinked languidly, pulling himself to his knees slowly. He tried to look around, but he was too dizzy to see anything. Seonghwa patted his body instead, still not quite believing his limbs hadn't been crushed. Whatever luck he had stored, Seonghwa was certain he had used it all in that moment.

When his eyes cleared, he realised he'd fallen into an underground cavern. It was dark, almost pitch-black if not for the gigantic bioluminescent mushrooms behind him. They cast a cool hue over the cave, providing him with enough light to search the ceiling for where he’d fallen through.

He didn’t see it at first, but there, right above him, was the tiniest gap in the rock, where faint beams of dull light slipped in. It wasn't directly above the mushrooms, but it was close enough that it was plausible that they had been what had broken Seonghwa’s fall. Everything else was frigid rock with only the occasional patch of hard dirt.

It occurred to Seonghwa then that these mushrooms were the first plant-adjacent organisms he’d seen since initially arriving. After entering the Underworld, everything had been undeniably dead. The people in the city had clearly cherished plants, portraying them with many colourful murals throughout the streets, but it puzzled Seonghwa how so much of their furniture was wooden when he had yet to see a single plant. It was a little disheartening. Seonghwa would've liked to have seen something. Instead, he had been stuck with dismal stone. The Underworld had turned out significantly less exciting than Seonghwa had thought. He wondered what had happened to all the brittle grass and withered, ashen trees. Where had Death rested them?

When the pounding in Seonghwa’s head settled, he rose to his feet and walked closer to the mushrooms. He was wary of touching them, unsure how safe they were. Seonghwa had never seen a wild mushroom outside of a book, but he’d heard of the poisonous variations, and that was enough to make him hover over them sceptically.

They were beautiful. Blue and green caps that glowed, painting his skin a cyan sky. It was magical. Seonghwa felt like a storybook character discovering an uncharted world. 

Thrill swirled within him for all of two seconds before his anxiety took hold. Panic flooded his veins as he took in his situation.

“Hongjoong!” he yelled up at the ceiling as he wandered out from under the cover of mushrooms, hoping for a miracle. 

The echo was astounding, the cavern quaking from the force. The cave rumbled, shaking so furiously that Seonghwa’s feet lost balance and he stumbled into a nearby wall, scraping his cheek against the stone. He hissed but clutched on tightly, scared he might fall otherwise.

When the shaking came to a halt, Seonghwa steadily loosened his hold and pulled back, making the very swift decision to not shout again. 

A new plan formed in his head as he trailed his hand over the rough stone surface. He paced until he was positioned underneath the hole he’d fallen through. Digging his hands into grooves, Seonghwa began to climb.

Having never climbed anything before in his life, it went about as well as one would expect. That being, terribly. No matter how hard he tried, Seonghwa couldn’t scale more than a few inches off the ground. His arms quivered, aching with every movement as he uselessly reached up. Suddenly, the stone beneath his foot gave under the repeated pressure, and Seonghwa lost grip. He flailed, desperate to latch onto something — anything — but it was too late. Seonghwa was falling.

Pain shot through him as he slammed into the ground, his head knocking against a protruding rock. Seonghwa's vision spun, bright, white stars twirling behind his eyelids as he tried to orientate himself. His hands felt stiff, and when he flexed his fingers, they stung. Wincing, Seonghwa pulled his bruised knees into his chest and looked around him. 

A heavy weight settled on Seonghwa's shoulders, his mind racing as his eyes scanned the area. It smelt like damp dirt down here, like decay. Seonghwa couldn't help but focus on the suffocating scent. In here, things came to be forgotten. To slowly wither away in the dark, suffering until their soul forgot what living felt like. Was that how Seonghwa was going to end up? Wandering caves for the rest of eternity? His only friend, a mushroom? 

Tears welled in his eyes, his heart clenching painfully tight. He didn’t even like eating mushrooms! He'd be left down here with a rumbling stomach for centuries. Seonghwa could swear he'd had dreams exactly like this, only those he had actually awoken from. He could pinch his skin raw, and it still wouldn't change a thing. Seonghwa was hopelessly stuck.

An echoing bang interrupted his spiralling thoughts. Seonghwa jolted in surprise, shoulders jumping to his ears. The echo was distant by the time he found his composure, but the sound had been near.

The floor’s shake was small and far less violent than it had been after his yell, which made it immensely easier for Seonghwa to convince himself what he was about to do was not utterly stupid.

He’d seen it from the corner of his eye, a strange irregular object sticking out from the ground. Seonghwa didn’t know whether it was the tears or something else, but he could've sworn he saw it shine. Curious and with little else to lose, Seonghwa shakily pulled to his tired feet and carefully toed his way toward the object.

Seonghwa’s eyes were trained upon the spot he’d captured the glimmer. It was so dark it would have been easy to lose sight, but strangely, Seonghwa didn't falter with hesitation. It felt as if whatever it was was calling him towards it. It should’ve been suspicious, but Seonghwa felt only hope. Perhaps this would be the key to his escape!

He crumpled to his knees beside the protruding edge and tried to dig it out despite the soreness of his reddened hands. Seonghwa was certain he was sporting an array of blisters and cuts, but he didn't care, clawing his hands into the patch of dirt repeatedly until his nails splintered and then some. He dug, uncaring for his own pain and fatigue, utterly entranced.

Sweat trickled from his face, catching on Seonghwa’s unblinking eyelids before flowing down the dried tear tracks on his cheeks. He didn't move. He didn't even flinch. Not when sweat streamed into his eyes or cuts, eliciting an instant stinging pain. Not when blood dripped from his cracked nails. And not even when a cramp seized his arm.

He didn't stop digging until he had unearthed a star-shaped rock. When Seonghwa traced his finger over the surface, he felt grooves, almost as if something was written there, but by then, it was much too late. Seonghwa collapsed without a word, the rock lying centimetres away from his open palm.

Someone was talking to Seonghwa. It was muffled, but he could tell it was loud. He wanted to tell them to be quiet, their voice making his ears ring uncomfortably. He tried to move, to turn his ears away from the noise and soothe his pounding head, but he couldn't. 

Panic coursed through him. Cold — so icily freezing that Seonghwa’s mind forgot about the ringing completely. His senses sharpened, sensitive and alarmed, and that was when he heard it.

“Seonghwa?” 

A voice.

“Seonghwa, wake up.”

No. 

“Can you hear me?” 

Although uncharacteristically panicked, it was without a doubt Hongjoong’s voice.

“Seonghwa!” 

Seonghwa awoke with a jolt, eyes bursting open. Hazy shadows danced over his vision, but he couldn't wait for it to clear, restlessly twisting until he saw it. It was nothing more than a looming silhouette, but Seonghwa could tell it was him even so.

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa’s voice was weak and raspy, but he felt the need to call out. To see if it was truly him. “Is that you?” He reached out but stopped himself, squinting out at the shadows. 

It was undoubtedly Hongjoong. One side of his face was illuminated by the sea blue mushroom glow, allowing Seonghwa enough light to trace the features he stared at every night. His eyelashes were just as thick as he remembered, his pointed nose and supple lips still intact, but his hands… Seonghwa stared at them with an itching twinge of confusion. Had they always been so large?

Pulling his arm toward his chest, Seonghwa shuffled back minutely. “How did you find me?”

“I heard you call for me.” Smiled Hongjoong, showcasing a wide set of white teeth, far too pointed to not make Seonghwa’s heart race.

He looked away quickly, casting his gaze to the less than thrilling scenery around them. It took a moment for him to realise, but when he did, it was unmistakable. This was not the cave Seonghwa had fallen into.

The walls were considerably narrower, lined with clusters of smaller bioluminescent mushrooms, and stretched deep, twisting and turning but never forking. There was only ever one way to go. 

“Where are we?” Seonghwa questioned slowly.

“I didn't want you out in the open in such a vulnerable state, so I brought you here. If you look behind you, we haven't gotten too far.” Seonghwa turned his head, and sure enough, there it was, the gaping stone cavern. “This tunnel is how I got in. We only have to follow it to reach the surface,” Hongjoong continued.

“And where’s Marigold?" he asked, standing up a little too quickly. Seonghwa’s head spun, the disorientating dizziness making him stumble a few paces.

Hongjoong's large, cold hands caught Seonghwa, helping to steady him back on his feet. Seonghwa’s veins turned to ice, his limbs growing heavy as a tangle of brambles took root inside of him. 

“Did she say anything?” Seonghwa pulled away with a deceitfully shy smile, hand subconsciously coming to wrap around his necklace. Still there. He released a silent breath, his fingers following the string down to the fabric, then the— Seonghwa stilled. It's gone.

The stone is gone.

“She's waiting by the entrance for us,” Hongjoong explained, clueless to Seonghwa's panic. “She said to come back as soon as we can, so we better get moving. Don't want to worry her.”

“Oh, you know what?” Seonghwa called out swiftly, halting Hongjoong, who had already begun turning, instantly. “I suddenly really need to relieve myself. Do you mind turning around for a few seconds? I’ll go do it behind a wall in the cave or something. I promise I'll be quick.”

Hongjoong's lips tugged, like he was about to say no but stopped himself. After a few seconds, he spoke. “Yes,” he said, like it had physically hurt him. “Hurry back to me though, darling. I'll worry if you’re gone too long.”

Darling? Seonghwa silently questioned as he hurried away, trying his best not to run.

As soon as he was out of sight, Seonghwa sprinted toward the mushrooms and fell to his knees in the soil near where he'd landed. Once again, Seonghwa found himself digging. Only this time, it was different. This time, it was survival.

His hands were sore, old wounds reopening and mixing blood with the dirt as he unearthed every stone lodged into the surface. Seonghwa cursed Hongjoong, the real Hongjoong, for giving him a stone necklace of all things. It was like he'd been doomed from the start.

Seonghwa’s heart pounded harder with each wrong stone he turned between his fingers, a bubbling sickness rising within him. Swallowing uselessly at the thick lump in his throat, Seonghwa could do nothing other than press on and blindly hope for the best. This was his only chance of safety from whatever that thing was wearing Hongjoong's skin.

By some miracle, Seonghwa found it. It was smoother than the other stones. A different kind of grey too. But even without all those things, he would've recognised it. And despite his previous distaste, Seonghwa was so happy to find it, he considered kissing the filthy surface.

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong called, his voice making the walls shake. “Darling, come out. It's just me.” His footsteps resound, seeming to make the ground tremble with each step. 

Seonghwa tucked himself tightly into the cover of the mushrooms, hoping they might shield him from view, the stone so tight in his palm it stabbed the bruised flesh. There was little else to hide, and not much Seonghwa could do to cover himself. He could only hope that the charm, even broken, would save him. 

“You haven't hidden from me, have you?” Hongjoong's tone lowered to an unnatural level, far deeper than Hongjoong's register allowed. “That would make me really mad. Are you trying to upset me, darling?”

There was nowhere Seonghwa could run. The only exits he knew of were either the hole he'd fallen through or the tunnel that thing had dragged him into, and who knew where that led. Even if he was miraculously never found by that creature, how was he to get out? He couldn't climb. That much had been made abundantly clear. He could look through the tunnel, but that was risky. It could take him deeper or hold even worse monsters than whatever this thing was. It was a big risk.

“What are you doing here, darling?”

Seonghwa's blood ran cold. He wasn't breathing. He couldn't. His heart had frozen.

“Don't tell me you thought you could hide from me?” The creature laughed, or rather, tried to. The sound was guttural and shrill but still loud enough to make the stone quake. “You shouldn't have run.” That was no longer Hongjoong's voice. That was terror. Demonic and piercing.

Suddenly, the creature's hand clawed into Seonghwa's wrist. Before Seonghwa could even process the pain, he was tossed like a weightless rag out into the open cave.

Seonghwa cried out in pain as his body collided with the rock, rolling until his limbs were limp and useless. He gasped dryly, unable to drink in enough air to fill his lungs, and tasted the salt of tears dripping from his lips. Despite it all, he could feel the stone still pressed tightly within his palm.

Heart pounding in his chest, horrific terror washed over Seonghwa as familiarly haunting footsteps mixed with rumbling rock. His arms shook beneath him, but he pushed anyway and raised his head regardless. Seonghwa wanted to at least see the monster coming before it struck. 

They'd transformed, unzipped themselves from Hongjoong's skin and left only the fleshy mush beneath, liquid mist oozing from them like steam. Their jaw unhinged, revealing razor-sharp teeth and a long, forked tongue that licked over their mouth hungrily, clear drool dripping onto the floor.

Seonghwa wanted to squeeze his eyes tightly together and pretend this was not happening, but he couldn't even bring himself to blink. Before his imminent doom, Seonghwa was completely frozen.

The monster moved, ready to strike, but strangely, at the last moment faltered. Seonghwa looked on in confusion, watching as its head slipped from its body and crashed to the ground so forcefully, the stone cracked and curved. Seonghwa's mouth gaped in horror as the creature's headless body crumpled with a thud, leaving a heap of sickly skin and fog.

“Fucking memory eater,” cursed a familiar voice, sheathing their sword.

They turned, and Seonghwa was struck by an intense bout of deja vu, because right there was Hongjoong. He stared shamelessly, unblinking and baffled, unsure what to believe.

A sheepish smile stretched over Hongjoong's lips. His teeth were just as Seonghwa remembered. Spectacular with two pointed canines. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing his neck. Seonghwa noted his hand. The same hands Seonghwa could so distinctly remember wrapped around him tightly gripped onto horse reins.

This Hongjoong… he looked so real.

When Hongjoong moved toward him, Seonghwa stiffened, cold clarity washing over him.

Seonghwa couldn't be certain yet.

Quickly shuffling away from the decapitated body and Hongjoong alike, Seonghwa thrust out his broken charm. “S-Stay right there,” he warned, summoning courage he did not feel as he stared down Hongjoong.

A frown immediately pulled on Hongjoong's lips. “Seonghwa? What are you doing?” He tried to move again, but Seonghwa remained firm in his stance.

“I said stay there!” he hissed, waving the charm as if brandishing some dangerous weapon.

Hongjoong's face pinched together, head tilting as he looked upon Seonghwa's face. His eyes traced the lines of serrated skin — the soft blooms of red painting his cheeks and dark marks marring his forehead. Hongjoong was looking for something, searching and searching with a deepening frown.

“You…” Hongjoong’s voice trailed into silence, and Seonghwa was sure he knew now why he would not find what he had been looking for. A shocking laugh tumbled from Hongjoong's lips unexpectedly. Seonghwa nearly jumped in surprise, but he dug his fingers into his outstretched arm to keep still. “You don’t believe it's me?” Hongjoong said, not quite a question. 

Seonghwa kept his expression as stern and unwavering as he could, unable to prevent a flicker of confusion passing through him when he noted the bitterness within Hongjoong's voice. Almost like he was upset at the fact that Seonghwa didn't trust him, but surely that was not right.

“Fine.” He huffed, his voice evidently plagued by frustration. “Let’s do this. My name is Kim Hongjoong. I'm a pirate. I proposed to you, got rejected, kidnapped you, then killed both of us. Good enough?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “Keep going,” he said, pausing for a moment in thought. “What’s your favourite colour?“

“Black.”

“Not a colour, and definitely not the time to lie to me. Try again.”

“And chrome silver is?” Hongjoong mumbled under his breath, quiet enough Seonghwa barely caught it. 

His lips curled involuntarily, and Seonghwa had to fight to straighten them once more. Thankfully, the mistake seemed to have gone unnoticed by Hongjoong, who threw his hands up in defeat after a moment of being subject to Seonghwa's burning stare. 

“Ugh, fine. Yellow. Happy?”

“Almost, just one final thing.” Seonghwa lowered his arm, mostly to soothe the ache burning through the limb, but kept his clasped hand close to his chest. “Where's Marigold?”

“I think she could sense something was wrong,” Hongjoong said. “Practically dragged me here but refused to come inside.”

Seonghwa nodded along. This person certainly seemed like Hongjoong, and though something inside him had already accepted that it was, Seonghwa still needed to press. He had only one question left to ask.

“And did she say anything?”

“Did you hit your head?” Hongjoong scowled. “You do realise she’s a horse, right?”

A heavy breath of relief left Seonghwa, and at once he dropped his hand. “Oh, thank god, it’s you.” He sighed, finally allowing himself to take a step closer to Hongjoong. The real Hongjoong. “Let's go.”

“Alright, let’s hu—” Hongjoong's words were cut off by a loud, ringing bang that made Seonghwa’s mind twist with thought. Where had he heard that sound before?

Something tight entangled itself in Seonghwa’s hair, harshly yanking him back. A cry of pain tore from his throat as his feet scraped over trembling rock.

“You can’t walk off with my dinner,” hissed a seething voice. 

Seonghwa dared not turn, limbs crumbling to pathetic mush as a cold chill ran down his spine. Maybe if he were braver, more like Hongjoong, he would've been able to kick the monster away and force his crying body into movement, but trapped here, with a starving creature beside him, all Seonghwa could think about was the nails. Like a sharpened dagger and so, so close to his neck.

Hongjoong had the creature pinned in a second, his sword repeatedly slashing as he pushed it farther and farther back. If not for the adrenaline coursing through his body, Seonghwa was certain his legs would've already given out, overcome by fear. 

Seonghwa's eyes wandered, but everywhere he looked he caught glimpses of Hongjoong and the monster, whose body seemed to have magically repaired itself. Nowhere around him could he see even a splash of blood. It was as if time had been reversed, dragging every droplet back into its veins. 

Although Seonghwa knew Hongjoong was an exceptional swordsman, he still couldn't quash his unease. Standing here doing nothing only made his anxiety worse, but what else could he do? He was struggling to even follow each strike.

At that thought, his eyes landed on a pile of rocks. It wasn't much, but perhaps it would distract the creature enough for Hongjoong to gain the upper hand. Regardless of the result, Seonghwa knew he had to try something. He had to try to be brave.

The floor shook so violently Seonghwa couldn't help his stumbling. He had wondered for a brief moment how Hongjoong could withstand such unsteadiness with so much ease before remembering he was a pirate, more than used to the tumultuous whims of the ocean. He thought upon it with a note of bitterness, a mix of jealousy and melancholy. The emotion swam viciously around him, curling tighter and tighter, pressing too heavily on his mind for comfort.

Shaking away unwelcome thoughts, Seonghwa steadied himself on his feet. With arms as full as he could manage, he neared where Hongjoong was entangled in a violent dance and picked up a rock. The creature evaded Hongjoong as best as they could, but his body was lightning quick, a restless charge with no signs of slowing. And, although Hongjoong landed more blows than he took, it pained Seonghwa every time one of those long, clawing nails lodged itself into his flesh, tearing open wounds Seonghwa could not yet tend to.

Jaw tense, Seonghwa wound back his arm. He trained his eyes on the creature's revolting face and threw. It took several stones, but eventually one hit them square in the face, causing them to stumble back in surprise. It was a small mistake, but it was all Hongjoong needed to cut the monster down to nothing.

“That's for tricking me!” Seonghwa yelled victoriously before he could think better of it, dropping the rest of the stones to the floor, eliciting a familiarly dull ring. Before Seonghwa could question it, the trembling beneath his feet picked up, a violent tremor running through the ground. Seonghwa wobbled like he’d been placed on a raft in the middle of a storming sea. “Oh, shit,” he uttered, desperately trying to keep his balance.

Seonghwa couldn't even focus on where Hongjoong was. He was too busy putting one foot in front of the other, trying to find a wall to hold onto. 

Suddenly, Seonghwa was knocked off his feet, a thick cloud of dust blurring his view. His ears rang, blocking out most outside noise, but he was certain he heard several more clamorous collisions. 

Squinting, Seonghwa watched as his hands, planted firmly on the stone, came into focus. They were covered in layers of grime and dirt. Seonghwa noted how oddly bright the cave suddenly seemed. He was about to disregard it, rise to his feet and search for Hongjoong, but before he could, Seonghwa saw it. There, beside his palm, was a crack in the stone. He followed it with his eyes, watching as it stretched into the clearing fog, growing wider and wider until Seonghwa realised that the ground was hollow. That strange, familiar ring… it had been because underneath them was nothing but an empty pit covered by a single, thin layer of rock.

Instantly, he looked up. Seonghwa found a gaping hole in the ceiling where a few pointed rocks had come crashing down, allowing dim light inside. The pieces melted together in his mind, forming a sculpture that threatened to crumble any moment and take them down with it.

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa yelled, no longer caring for quietness. This place was going to collapse any second. He needed to find Hongjoong and get out of here fast. There was no time left to tiptoe.

Hongjoong appeared out of nowhere. His presence beside Seonghwa was suddenly announced by a single outstretched arm, the offering of a helping hand Seonghwa only stared at. 

“Do you need help or not?” Hongjoong's voice was rough, breathless from his exhausting battle. Looking up, Seonghwa scrutinised his face for a moment before meeting his eyes. He opened his mouth, but Hongjoong already knew what he was about to say. “I’m fine, but we need to leave.” 

Another earth-shattering crash resounded, and Hongjoong didn't wait for Seonghwa to take his hand. He grabbed onto Seonghwa’s hand himself and hauled him to his feet. 

The ground beneath them was crumbling and crumbling fast. With Hongjoong's hand around Seonghwa's shoulders, they moved as quickly as they could toward the tunnel leading away from the room. There was no telling whether that too would collapse beneath them, but it was the only place left to run to.

Despite their best efforts, the ground seemed to be catching up to them. Seonghwa dared not spare a glance behind them, but he could sense the closeness like a looming shadow nonetheless. It was certainly there. His ears were a cacophony of sound. An overwhelming orchestra of chaos that seemed to be growing louder by the second.

They were almost at the entrance of the tunnel when Seonghwa caught his foot and fell to the ground. Truthfully, he didn't feel the pain of it, towering terror drowning out any ache he may have felt. He tried to get up, but the rock crumbled beneath his weight, leaving his body dangling over the edge.

Beneath him was a dismal nothing that Seonghwa wasn't certain held an end. He feared, should he fall, that he might never stop. Trapped in a cage of darkness, alone with only his thoughts for company. It seemed too cruel a fate. At least in pain there was distraction. In isolation there was only pain. Blistering, smouldering pain.

There was nowhere Seonghwa could claw his hands into. Nothing for his feet to hook onto. He was teetering on a shaking ledge. Any second the ground would give in under the pressure and snap off, taking Seonghwa down into dark depths he might never escape from. Seonghwa was certain at that moment. He would fall.

A shuddering breath escaped him, and he looked up to glimpse Hongjoong one last time, but Hongjoong was already moving, his face shielded by his arms as he grabbed Seonghwa. In one fluid sweep, Hongjoong hauled Seonghwa to his feet and threw him into the tunnel. Seonghwa crashed to the ground, scrambling to get back to his feet and find Hongjoong.

Seonghwa's heart hammered, his ears filling with nothing but white noise. Before him was a gaping, Hongjoong-less pit. An empty nothingness that Hongjoong should've been triumphantly smirking in front of. There was something shaking within him — some fragile feeling that might’ve shattered had he not found it in time. A hand. Hongjoong's hand.

Seonghwa had never fallen to his knees so fast, immediately leaning over the ledge and reaching for Hongjoong. Their arms easily find one another, entwining and gripping with a force Seonghwa had never experienced before. Finding strength he hadn't known he still possessed, Seonghwa pulled. His teeth were gritted and his arms burnt, but he didn't stop until Hongjoong was panting beside him.

“I could've handled that,” Hongjoong said breathlessly, pulling onto his elbows. “But thanks.”

Normally, Seonghwa would’ve simply rolled his eyes and ignored him, but in that moment, Seonghwa felt so relieved by his voice that his body moved before he could even question what was happening. He lunged across the floor, arms wide, crashing into Hongjoong with a heavy thud, face immediately making a home for itself in the crook of Hongjoong’s neck. Seonghwa's shoulders scrunched and shook as he coiled himself around Hongjoong, his tight lungs instantly relaxing as Hongjoong’s familiar scent flooded in.

Their heartbeats connected, attached on one lifeline as their chests move in sync. Beneath his fingers, Hongjoong's body was so warm. So firm. So tangible and real. He was real. Seonghwa shivered, his grasp on Hongjoong tightening as he curled closer. The movement, although small, seemed to be enough to jolt Hongjoong out of whatever surprised stupor he’d been in. His hands, rough but gentle, delicately closed around Seonghwa’s back.

It was then that Seonghwa remembered himself, pushing Hongjoong back hastily. Seonghwa tried to form sentences, but his mouth ended up hanging dumbly, unable to formulate a single word.

When he shyly glanced at Hongjoong, he noted, with horror, the knot between his brows and the tight frown on his face. “Sorry,” Seonghwa said quickly before Hongjoong could even open his mouth. “I just, um… I’m, uh, glad you're okay,” Seonghwa finally managed to spit out, ending the embarrassing scene with an awkward punch to Hongjoong’s shoulder that he would later spend hours wincing over.

If Seonghwa hadn’t been quite so mortified, perhaps he might’ve seen Hongjoong’s wide eyes settle into something decidedly odd. An expression, some might say, of fondness. The pirate’s hands flexed at his sides, clenching and relaxing as if discovering the movements for the very first time.

“That’s…” Hongjoong paused to clear his throat. He sat up a little straighter, his body knocked off balance when Seonghwa had unexpectedly barrelled into him. “I’m glad you're okay too.” His tone easily found its regular rhythm, the stiff unsureness replaced by familiar teasing. “You should really stop running away, you know?”

“I don't do it on purpose!” exclaimed Seonghwa, whose cries went completely ignored as Hongjoong rose to his feet. Seonghwa followed quickly, brushing the dirt off his clothes.

“They really did a number on you, huh?”

Seonghwa’s head jerked up, confused. “What?”

Without a word, Hongjoong pointed to his head, immediately flicking a switch of understanding within Seonghwa. He reached up to the scrapes and bruises over his face almost shyly, careful to not touch them.

“Oh, uh, yeah. It doesn’t hurt that much though.” Seonghwa shrugged nonchalantly, letting his hands fall. “Do you know what that thing was?” he asked eagerly.

“A memory eater. They lure in victims and steal their memories, leaving them empty husks,” answered Hongjoong distastefully. “They take the shape of the person we desire the most.” 

Seonghwa’s breath caught in his throat, his heartbeat suddenly deafening in his ears as blood crept up his neck. 

Desire? But Seonghwa had seen… No. That couldn’t be right. Desire can mean different things, he reasoned. It was probably because he had wanted Hongjoong to find him at that moment. That constituted a desire. He had desired to be found by Hongjoong. Yes, that had to be the reason!

“So, are you going to tell me who you saw?” Hongjoong smirked devilishly, sending a worrying heat down Seonghwa’s body. “Was it me?”

“What? No!” Seonghwa blurted defensively, his eyes wide with panic. “Why would it ever be you?”

Hongjoong huffed a laugh, like he had expected that exact reaction. “A bit hurtful, but valid, I suppose,” he muttered. “Who was it then? Don't tell me it was that fiance of yours.”

“Shut up,” Seonghwa mumbled, rolling his eyes. If Seonghwa hadn’t been certain before, he was now. There was no universe in which he would desire Hongjoong in that way. Even the idea was ridiculous. “It was nobody. I saw a demon.”

Hongjoong hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as if piecing together an especially tricky puzzle. “Something's not adding up,” he said after a long moment. “You questioned my identity when you saw me, and even more damning, you threw a rock at it and yelled, and I quote, ‘that’s for tricking me.’” To Hongjoong, the fact Seonghwa now refused to meet his eyes was even more incriminating. “You definitely saw someone.”

“Can we please just get out of this place?” Seonghwa huffed, his lips pursing subconsciously. “I figured out how we get through the mountain, and I would like to be long gone before that thing claws its way back out of the cave.”

Hongjoong thankfully dropped the topic, nodding along before lighting a match and leading Seonghwa through the tunnel. It seemed there had been two ways one could venture. Hongjoong had told him that the left led back to the surface and the other more than likely to the memory eater’s lair. Seonghwa practically preened when Hongjoong commended his wits for running from the creature when he did, mentioning that he would try his best to fix his charm once they were out.

They met Marigold, as Hongjoong had said, pacing outside the entrance of the tunnel. As if sensing Seonghwa’s presence, she froze, her head whipping around. A smile broke out across his cheeks as Marigold nuzzled her wet nose into the side of his face. Although it seemed impossible, Seonghwa thought that perhaps this was her apology for running off so abruptly. 

“It’s alright, girl,” he murmured, stroking his hands down her neck. “I’m okay.”

A loud cough cut the moment short, Seonghwa’s gaze immediately finding Hongjoong’s waiting frame. “You said you knew how to get through?” he reminded, jerking his head back. 

“Right,” Seonghwa said, pulling away from Marigold. She released an upset huff, closely trailing after Seonghwa as he followed Hongjoong back to the area they had been at previously.

Not much had changed in the hours that had passed. It had gotten darker, the fog more thick, but other than that, it remained the same. Still, Seonghwa couldn’t shake the feeling that something here was distinctly wrong. 

Nevertheless, he walked up to the wall of stone, his fingers tracing the dusty surface with thought. “Can I see your map again?” Seonghwa asked after a moment.

“Uh, sure,” Hongjoong agreed mindlessly, rooting around his belt for the map. Eventually, he found it and passed it to Seonghwa. 

Rolling it out in his hands, Seonghwa searched the parchment, eyes appraising every smudge of ink. It took a moment to find what he'd been looking for. 

“Oh,” he exclaimed dumbly. “So, it should be…” 

Seonghwa crouched somewhere to the right of where the entrance should've been, his hand roaming the crease between the ground and the stone. He felt the deep grooves of a shallow carving etched into the rock. The same one depicted in the map. His eyes lighting with recognition, Seonghwa pressed on it until it gave way and sank into the wall.

After a second or two, the sound of stone scraping over stone filled the air and a crack appeared in the wall. Seonghwa rose to his feet and stepped back, watching as the mountain split in two, revealing a passage hidden within the worn rock.

“Okay, now, before we go anywhere, come here,” Hongjoong said, beckoning Seonghwa toward him.

Confused, Seonghwa walked slowly, trying to peer around the pirate’s side to see what he had in his hand hidden behind his back. When he was close enough, Hongjoong pulled one of his arms out and dropped a necklace into Seonghwa’s hand.

Instantly, Seonghwa’s eyes widened in surprise, eyebrows rising over his forehead. “You fixed it? That quick?” he exclaimed, impressed, as he inspected the wrapping around the stone.

“It’s mine,” Hongjoong clarified. “I figured, given your track record of finding trouble, you’d need it more than me.”

Before Seonghwa could glare at him for too long, Hongjoong dropped a cold, circular tin into his hand. Seonghwa’s face folded, his eyes finally breaking from their merciless stare to squint at the tin in his palm sceptically.

“What’s this?” he asked, puzzled as to why Hongjoong was giving him things.

“Open it,” Hongjoong replied.

Seonghwa eyed the tin distrustfully, watching as its dull, grey coat failed to reflect light. “It’s not going to be feathers again, is it?”

Hongjoong shook his head in exasperation, taking back the tin and twisting off the lid. Seonghwa peered inside curiously, finding a thick translucent cream. “It’s salve. You put it on your wounds,” explained Hongjoong, motioning to Seonghwa’s face and hands.

Seonghwa nodded, accepting the tin back from Hongjoong easily. The salve was cool upon his fingers, a tingling relief spreading across where it touched his skin. And though Seonghwa ached to slather it over himself, he swiftly smeared it across Hongjoong’s cheeks, where a particularly nasty blow had caught him and sliced so deep it drew thick, oozing blood across his face.

Immediately, Hongjoong’s body froze, a tight scowl slowly forming as his short-circuiting brain began sparking back to life. “What are you doing?” Hongjoong questioned, his voice tense and low.

“Well, it's not fair if you're the only one helping me,” Seonghwa replied simply, rubbing his thumb over Hongjoong’s busted lip.

Hongjoong caught his wrist, pulling Seonghwa off him and taking a large step back. “I can apply it myself,” he said sternly, face stiffened by what Seonghwa could only assume was discomfort. “You should focus on your own injuries.” 

Seonghwa watched Hongjoong turn his back sharply, his feet stomping as he went to untie Marigold from where they had tied her. Seonghwa observed Hongjoong working as he mindlessly rubbed the salve into his skin. He couldn’t even appreciate the relief it brought, as some sullen emotion had taken root in his chest — some grave disappointment and upset Seonghwa could not shake as he wondered what exactly he had done to offend Hongjoong into ignoring him.

Chapter Text

Seonghwa had a very bad feeling about this. There was a swelling weight trapped inside of him, pulling and pulling, warning with increasing urgency of an imminent danger Seonghwa couldn't yet imagine. The feeling wasn't dissimilar to being strapped into a carriage headed for the edge of a cliff. It was gnawing and aching, and yet, for hours, Seonghwa had managed to ignore it, convincing himself he was merely nervous about the height of the rocky terrain.

Still, as the darkness grew and the mountain became colder, Seonghwa couldn't find it in himself to pry his hand away from the charm Hongjoong had given him.

The sound had been nothing at first, perhaps a droplet slipping from a high stone onto the ground. However, as the hours wore upon them, Seonghwa began to recognise the difference between faint footfall and mountain dew. Something was there. He could feel it.

As they approached the stone path that would lead them over a river raging a few metres below and to the next mountain, Seonghwa felt his feet slow to a cautious stop, limbs stiffening with increasing tenseness. Immediately, Hongjoong noticed, tugging Marigold over to him. They had just escaped a particularly tight cave and, given Marigold's height, had been forced to dismount as they passed through the mountain.

“What's wrong?” Hongjoong asked, his face scrunched with confusion. It was an admittedly adorable expression, his face twisted thoughtfully as he tried to guess why Seonghwa had suddenly stopped. “We’re almost there. I promise just past the bridge and I can get you back on Marigold.”

“No, that's not it.” Seonghwa shook his head, glancing once or twice around him before meeting Hongjoong's eyes. “This doesn't feel right, Hongjoong.”

“What do you mean?”

The air seemed to still. Seonghwa’s jaw tightened as if preparing for his words to summon some catastrophic event built to tear them apart. But that was ridiculous, so he forced a slow breath through his lungs instead. 

“Something's here,” he whispered. “I can feel it watching us. And I swear I can almost hear it. Following. Stalking.”

“Are you sure?” Hongjoong scowled, searching around them uselessly. “I can't—”

Footsteps. 

Unmistakable. Echoing. Singular at first, but multiplying by the second, and definitely — certainly — footsteps. Many of them.

“Pardon the intrusion, Your Highness.” 

Sharp, piercing ice ghosted Seonghwa's skin, raising acute alarm and panic within him as Seonghwa’s fears confirmed themselves. From bleak, twisting mist, emerged the shadows of looming figures. They circled, spreading wide yet never thin, haunting like ghouls of the night, barely visible in the fog but skulking stubbornly after the unfortunate souls passing through.

Instinctively, Seonghwa stepped back until he could feel Hongjoong's sturdy presence beside him. In his ear, Marigold whined. Seonghwa felt the hotness of her breath before he saw the puff of smoke spill from her nostrils.

Amongst the silhouettes, Seonghwa’s eyes fell upon a prominent figure unclouded by mist. A woman wrapped in scarlet, the colour as deep as blooming blood.

“We simply had to find the infamous Pirate King,” she purred, the venom in her voice sweetened by a thick layer of honey.

Unsheathing his sword, Hongjoong took a large step forward. “Who are you?” His voice was without peace, his low timbre allowing specks of blazing anger to spark into his voice.

“You mean you don’t remember?” she hissed, something mocking and decidedly pissed seeping into her tone. “You ruined my life!”

The way Hongjoong looked knowingly at Seonghwa would've been comical had the situation not been so dangerous. It was clear to Seonghwa that Hongjoong hadn’t a clue who these people were.

“You made our lives miserable!” she cried, long fingers curling around a golden ball clutched in her palm. 

It was unnerving how the scene was playing out, almost verbatim how Hongjoong had told him it would so many days ago. A Pirate King claimed the wrongdoings of every pirate. That was Hongjoong's curse. That was the life he could not escape.

“Now,” the woman's face split with an eerie smile, “we are going to repay the favour.”

There was no time to laugh, curse, or fear. The fog around them warped, mist writhing as it was torn apart, revealing a sea of faces that blurred together in Seonghwa's dizzying panic. He took a shaky step back, but it was useless. The figures curled around them, appearing in every direction he looked. They had circled until the only possible way out was the deep, plunging cliffside.

Seonghwa’s heart raced. The erratic heartbeat doing little to quell his distress, he looked to Hongjoong, hoping to find comfort in his steadfast confidence. Instead, he found him repeatedly tensing his jaw. His smirk would've looked cocky to anyone else, but Seonghwa could see the intense frustration layered beneath.

“Stay with me, alright?” Hongjoong's voice was low, almost warning, as if he thought Seonghwa might grow wings and fly away.

Seonghwa wasn't aware exactly when the fight had begun. All he knew was that the sound of Hongjoong's raging sword was deafening. Like thunder, each swing came down with lightning might. The air had quickly grown thick with the scent of spilt blood, so overpowering it almost drowned out the raucous warrior cries and grunts as bodies lunged at Hongjoong. 

He was startlingly quick, his body ducking around blows with effortless ease. Almost every time Seonghwa broke focus to blink, he would have to take a few moments to orient himself and find Hongjoong's figure again.

At Seonghwa's side, a scolding heat ignited. His head instantly snapped to the sound of roaring flame, his face morphing into surprise when he saw black smoke plume from Marigold's muzzle.

Seonghwa coughed, raising an arm to block out the putrid scent of burning flesh. His gaze blurred with tears that Seonghwa struggled to rid himself of, his eyes stinging from the thick smoke. Eventually, the hazy silhouettes smoothed out, finally allowing him to see more than just a blob of writhing amber heat. 

Behind his back, Seongwha heard the faint grunt of some ragged, harrowing spirit. A cold, alarmed heat flooded his body for no more than half a second before his feet kicked into motion, throwing his body to the side just in time to avoid a particularly gnarled knife.

Although Seonghwa could feel the pain of his barely healed skin scraping away as he skidded over rock, he paid it no mind and hurriedly pushed to his feet. Adrenaline was mercifully quick to fill his veins, pushing strength into his weak legs that Seonghwa wasn't sure he could have gathered otherwise.

His eyes found Marigold almost instantly. It was rather difficult to lose a horse. Hongjoong had told him not to leave his side, but given how Seonghwa could no longer locate said side in this mess of a brawl, he figured his best bet was sticking to the hide of the fire-breathing horse.

Marigold was considerably closer to the bridge, her hooves stomping monstrously as she bucked and kicked the attackers. The smouldering bodies, burnt until they blackened and crisped, seemed not to bother her. She seemed rattled, completely wild and desperate, but not by agony. Marigold was not perturbed in the presence of their long-suffering pain, so perhaps it was not emotion that drove her fear but rather something else. Something that Seonghwa could not yet guess at. Maybe something, like with the fire-breathing, Hongjoong had not disclosed.

When Seonghwa scrutinised the creature, he noted something unexpected. Not her demeanour nor her secrets had revealed themselves to Seonghwa, but something considerably more valuable. A way out. Whether she had done it subconsciously or not, Marigold was clearing a perfect path toward the stone bridge currently occupied by rolling mist and sword-swinging men.

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa shouted over the chaos twisted around them. It easily got lost amongst the pained wails of Marigold’s victims, her throat starting to glow as she prepared her next attack.

Seonghwa’s pace slowed, eyes erratic as they darted over the stone. Where was Hongjoong? All Seonghwa could see were bodies and bodies and bodies, sizzling fog mixing with glossy, blotting blood as it enveloped them.

It took a while, and Seonghwa was almost behind the wall of fire Marigold had erected around herself, but Seonghwa found Hongjoong. His heart was light with relief for all of one second before he realised Hongjoong was fighting off five guys at once. Again. How did this keep happening?

They were all considerably larger than Hongjoong, but he held his own shockingly well. The way Hongjoong moved here was certainly different from the way Seonghwa had watched him fight those men in the alley. Here, he fought like he had something to lose. Time, perhaps.

Still, Seonghwa knew he must be struggling. Hell, it was shocking enough that he wasn't missing an arm by now. Seonghwa supposed you didn't get the title Pirate King with shoddy swordsmanship.

Just past Hongjoong, between the wall of bodies viciously attacking him, Seonghwa glimpsed a flash of red. He squinted, instantly recognising the woman. Her face was alight with a particularly wicked kind of joy, and still clasped in her hand was that peculiar golden ball. Seonghwa bit his cheek, hot rage bubbling within him. She looked so viciously mocking. So, so, so much like his mother.

With a sudden surge of courage and confidence he hadn't the skills to back up, Seonghwa plucked a sword from off the ground and charged to Hongjoong's aid. The sword was significantly heavier than he had expected, his arm sagging immediately, aching after a few moments, but still his feet continued on, completely abandoning the notion of safety at Marigold's side. Hongjoong needed him, and Seonghwa refused to sit idle and watch him fight their battle alone.

Seonghwa struck only one blow, and it left his sword impaled in the shoulder of a burly man. He lacked both the strength to pull it out and the resolve to drive it deeper, so it remained stuck — lodged into the deep muscle of his shoulder blade.

“What are you doing?” Hongjoong hissed, swiftly blocking a blow headed for Seonghwa’s neck. Hongjoong kicked the assailant back, knocking him into the figure behind him and cutting clean through the charging woman on his left.

Hongjoong's hand was on Seonghwa’s wrist before Seonghwa could respond, drawing them as far back as he could in what little time he had gained. The chaos around them was endless, but Seonghwa knew he had little time for explanations, much less an argument on why a ‘thank you’ would've been nice.

‘I've found a way out,” Seonghwa said quickly, thinking for a moment before adding, “or, rather, Marigold did.”

“What?”

“She’s cleared a path. If we cross quickly and have Marigold torch the thing, we can escape.”

A loud noise interrupted them before Hongjoong could reply. Cursing, he pulled Seonghwa's arm, forcing him to stumble forward. His face crashed into the torn cloth covering Hongjoong’s shoulder as Hongjoong swung his heavy sword. A gurgling noise choked into silence behind him, a thud following. Seonghwa's breath came out quick and heated, fast enough to warm the skin lining Hongjoong's jaw as he stared at his unblinking eyes. Completely cold and merciless as he struck.

“Let's go,” Hongjoong said, nudging Seonghwa into action. 

Jumping back, Seonghwa was careful to step around the barely breathing body, his stomach beginning to disagree with the disastrous display of violence before them. Hongjoong, however, seemed to have no such qualms, trampling over the stranger's arm without a second thought. He didn't even flinch at the snap of bone, breaking as easily as twigs beneath a boot. Seonghwa did not pity the man who had tried to maim them, but even he winced at the sound, his hands tensing into balls as he kicked into a run. 

Marigold wasn't tremendously far, but Seonghwa wanted to be done with this nightmare and flee as soon as possible. He knew Hongjoong would follow. He was infinitely faster than Seonghwa and would have no trouble keeping up.

The closer they got, the more cloying the air became. Stifling smoke rose into the sky, twisting and bending around the tall mountain face as it searched the overhanging rock for an exit, small billowing clouds forming over the stone. 

Seonghwa coughed, his eyes beginning to sting. He was close now, the horse finishing off a few men mere steps away. He didn't want to sigh — didn't want to admit relief prematurely — but he couldn’t help it.

“Seonghwa, wait—” Hongjoong tried to call, his hand reaching and reaching only to grasp nothing. It was too late. Seonghwa had stepped one too many paces and placed himself directly in line to catch Marigold's latest victim. A small, wide man who flew with the force from a particularly harsh buck from Marigold's hooves, crashing into Seonghwa with the weight of a cannonball, knocking him backwards. 

When Seonghwa’s foot lost ground, things slowed just enough for the horror to wash over him — just enough to meet Hongjoong's eyes with a plea. 

Help me.

Both the man and Seonghwa tumbled over the ledge, but when Hongjoong dived, he only dived to save one.

The water was a weight Seonghwa hadn’t expected to be so heavy. As soon as he had broken the surface, Seonghwa had been sucked below a suffocating layer of pressure. His fall had been short. There had been barely a second to register the plunge before he was encased in frigid currents. It made the shock all that more painful.

A soundless gasp escaped Seonghwa as the barrelling force of water swept his body into a jagged rock hidden amongst the current. The stabbing pain was nowhere near as excruciating as the burn of water flooding his throat. It was too much. A constant, swelling pressure as he was scolded from the inside out. His head felt light, like it was about to succumb to the depths and implode. Seonghwa felt his senses grow numb. He couldn't tell whether it was from the cold or the pain. His eyelids fluttered, his body losing its struggle and going limp. 

Seonghwa's consciousness was a fleeting thing, ungraspable for long periods of time, drifting with the nonchalance of wayward specks of dust. He flickered in and out of a semi-conscious state for time he could not measure. He could say nothing, but the dull ringing in his ears was just low enough that he could catch a voice. It sounded familiar, though he couldn't discern from where he had heard it. Neither could he understand what they were saying. Perhaps his name? There was only one thing Seonghwa had been certain of at that time; he had been warm.

When Seonghwa awoke, it was with a start, his body unconsciously jerking upright. Immediately, the warmth vanished, and Seonghwa was left feeling oddly cold. Not in the freezing, unbearable way he had been in the river, but in a chilling, almost breezy, way. Seonghwa looked down, confused. It took less than a moment for his horror to dawn. 

He was naked.

His knees were to his chest in an instant, the thick layers of insulating fabric thrown over him twisting around his body as he pulled it to cover himself. A loud groan echoed beside him, a considerable weight shifting in the fabric.

“‘s cold, ‘hwa,” the voice murmured, gruff and heavy with sleep.

Seonghwa tore himself away with speed he did not know he possessed, plastering himself to a cold wall, gripping the draping blankets around his body so tightly his knuckles turned white. Seonghwa watched with wide eyes as Hongjoong lazily sat up on his arms, blinking out the sleep from his eyes before turning to face him. 

“Come 'ere,” he said with a yawn, mindlessly patting the spot next to him. 

And that was when Seonghwa realised with staggering clarity that Hongjoong too was naked. They both thankfully had their modesty covered, but the thin breeches left little to the imagination, and oh, how Seonghwa was imagining. 

His face flushed a bright, beautiful colour, instantly distinct against the drab, grey nothingness hung around them. It seemed they were nestled in a small, shallow dip in stone, nowhere near deep enough to name a cave. Hongjoong was lounging upon an appealing pile of blankets next to a roaring fire emitting an enticing warmth. Seonghwa hadn't realised much in his dizzying panic, but his body felt achingly weak, and his head pounded from his sudden movements.

Wordless, Seonghwa lowered himself onto the edge of Hongjoong’s pile of blankets, careful to not allow his sheets to drop below his shoulders. Once situated, comfortably enveloped by heat, Seonghwa was faced with the very difficult task of deciding where to look. Everywhere his eyes fell landed upon a sliver of skin he felt too scandalised to look at too long. How could Hongjoong be so shamelessly nonchalant? It was like he was completely unbothered by their nudity.

Feeling something tug on his blankets, Seonghwa turned with a puzzled frown. He found Hongjoong with his hand gripping the sheets, pulling with enough force that Seonghwa's body was drawn in his direction. 

“What are you doing?” Seonghwa scowled. “I'm—”

“I don't care about a little nudity,” huffed Hongjoong, giving the blankets in Seonghwa's firm grasp another tug. “I'm cold. At least give me one,” he whined. 

“I care!” Seonghwa exclaimed, roughly pulling the fabric away from Hongjoong's clawing fingers. “And no! Not until you tell me why we are— were….” Seonghwa stopped himself, embarrassment making his tongue grow too heavy to lift.

“Why we were cuddling naked?” finished Hongjoong shamelessly.

Seonghwa's mouth fell open. “Cuddling? We were cuddling?!” he exclaimed, his mind suddenly flooded with a myriad of unwelcome images. Their skin touching — the shared body heat radiating between them — it all made his head spin.

Even now, Seonghwa could still hear his mother in his mind. Her voice was as cold and callous as it ever was. She would’ve been enraged by the new developments being revealed. She would’ve probably tossed Hongjoong into the deepest part of the dungeon as soon as she’d caught wind. 

“This is seriously a crime, you know?!” spluttered Seonghwa.

“What? Cuddling?”

“No, the—” Seonghwa stopped himself again, pausing just in time to prevent himself from saying something he would come to regret. Seonghwa shook his head, a loud breath slipping between his lips. “You can't just undress people. That's indecent and so very illegal! You will have much to answer for when we return home,” he declared.

“I suppose now is not a very good time to tell you I performed emergency resuscitation on you too, then?”

Seonghwa's eyes widened, his brain slow to piece together the meaning in Hongjoong's words. “You mean like… you… on my mouth— we…” Hongjoong nodded, meeting Seonghwa with a blank face. Something inside Seonghwa churned at the sight, realisation crashing over him. It was not unlike that haunting feeling of being pulled under. Kicking and crying, yet remaining stuck in the current. “I think I'm going to throw up.”

“Hey, I was only trying to save you. It meant nothing,” Hongjoong quickly retorted with a hint of offence that Seonghwa knew Hongjoong did not mean. “We can't waste another week while I wait for you to recover.” 

Rolling his eyes, Seonghwa tightened his arms around himself. “How very thoughtful of you,” he muttered.

Hongjoong smiled, his eyes catching firelight when Seonghwa looked at them. “Clothes are over there, by the way,” he said, nodding his head somewhere behind Seonghwa. Carefully turning, Seonghwa found a few of their bags lined along the back wall of the shelter. Seonghwa wouldn’t have questioned it had Hongjoong not added, “And Marigold's outside, if you want to see her.”

That made Seonghwa pause. “She found us?” He scowled, not quite understanding.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “You think I just conveniently found all this?” he asked, his arms sprawling as he gestured around him. And finally, after so much haunting, Seonghwa was granted a clear, perfect view of the ink carved into his bicep. No1likeme.

“Well, no, but…” Though Seonghwa’s mouth moved, his mind did not. The image of Hongjoong's tattoo toying with his head like an unsolvable riddle long after Hongjoong's arm had fallen. He tried to shake away the invasive thoughts, but they did not quell. Not when he could still see the smallest sliver of scrawl peek from his inner arm. “She's a horse, not a wolf. How did she track us? It's not like we left footprints to follow.”

“She used this.” There were few things Hongjoong could have done to recapture Seonghwa’s drifting attention; presenting him with the exact shiny golden ball he had seen the red woman carry was certainly one of them.

“That… That woman had that, didn't she? What is it?” he asked in rapid succession, his eyes finally finding focus on the globe.

Hongjoong's eyes flickered from his palm to Seonghwa's curious face. “Tell me, Seonghwa, what do you know of blood magic?”

Seonghwa froze, his veins icing over until they stiffened and became locked in place. Breath falling a little quicker, Seonghwa attempted to swallow back the words on the tip of his tongue — the thoughts and feelings that may never see the light of day. Because Seonghwa could tell Hongjoong a million things about blood magic, but none would be what he wanted to hear.

“Little,” he replied instead, purposefully curt.

“Well, it's rather simple in concept. All you need is a bit of blood and a magical instrument—”

“—An artefact,” interjected Seonghwa.

Hongjoong nodded approvingly, as if impressed by Seonghwa's knowledge. “Yes, an artefact,” he corrected. “Draw the two together with intent, and violà. You can do the impossible.”

“So, that ball thing is an artefact?” Seonghwa asked, twisting his head to get a closer look. Though golden and shiny, it wasn't exactly enchanting in the way Seonghwa had imagined an artefact to be. It looked like nothing, just a useless ball one might hold to show off wealth. “It doesn't look very… magical.”

“Oh, but it is.” Hongjoong grinned broadly. “This is the most wonderful gift we could've gotten,” he said, raising the globe up on his palm. Subconsciously, Seonghwa leaned closer, his intrigue evident. “It guides us wherever we desire.”

Seonghwa gasped. “You mean…?”

Hongjoong nodded encouragingly, his smile stretching impossibly wider. “It will lead us straight to Wooyoung.” His joy was so startlingly evident in his voice — the giddiness unfamiliar yet decidedly right on his tongue. Seonghwa decided it was nice, if not too infectious for his own good, the excitement working a small smile onto Seonghwa's face.

“That's great, Hongjoong.”

“Isn't it?” he said rhetorically, rolling the artefact around in his hands. “And I know Jongho will just love this,” Hongjoong added absentmindedly, more to himself than anything else.

“Jongho?” The words spilt from his lips before Seonghwa could stop himself. “You've never mentioned him before. Is he from your crew?”

Hongjoong turned then, ever so slightly, just enough to catch Seonghwa with the corner of his eye. His stare was heavy. Intense in the way he carefully appraised Seonghwa. Even as he spoke, he was still considering Seonghwa. 

“Yes,” he said slowly, as if he couldn't trust Seonghwa enough with his words. “Let's say he's rather fond of treasure.”

Deciding the conversation had come to an end, Seonghwa moved toward the back wall, where he planned to find some clothes to shove over his naked body. He crouched carefully, ensuring the fabric around him was securely wrapped in his palm before reaching out. Attempting to open a bag with only one hand proved significantly difficult, and Seonghwa huffed in frustration each time his grasp slipped.

Finally prying it open, Seonghwa riffled his hand around and pulled a navy tunic and some trousers from the bag. “You better not look,” Seonghwa hissed, glancing over his shoulder. He caught Hongjoong's dark eyes and clicked his tongue. “Actually, turn around and close your eyes.”

“You can't be serious.” Hongjoong scowled. Unfortunately for him, Seonghwa’s stubbornness was a creature not even a god could defeat. 

A moment later, Hongjoong turned, squeezing his eyes shut with a disbelieving huff. A triumphant smile curled on Seonghwa’s lips.

He dressed quickly, trying to keep his wandering mind at bay. Seonghwa’s head was consumed with thoughts of frigid water and deafening currents. He thought a lot about after too. How Hongjoong had saved him, breathed life back into his lungs and pressed their bodies in a heated embrace, thawing away Seonghwa’s hypothermia until only the chill of separation remained.

Shaking his head, Seonghwa finished the final lace on his boot and exited the shelter without a word. At his thudding footsteps, Hongjoong peeked an eye open and watched him leave.

Being with Marigold was a freeing experience. For perhaps longer than he cared to admit, Seonghwa’s mind had been undeniably cluttered, hoarding onto memories and thoughts that ultimately did him no good. Being with Marigold allowed him to escape. He had chatted with her for a while or, rather, untangled her knotted mane with his fingers as he expressed every invasive thought he had ever had. Marigold was such a great listener. 

Or she was until she grew hungry and barged past Seonghwa, following the scent of whatever had caught her nose. Seonghwa huffed, offended, before his growling stomach interrupted him. Then he too sniffed the air, caught the scent of mouthwatering spice, and followed his nose.

When he arrived at their not-cave, Seonghwa caught Hongjoong, thankfully fully clothed, red-handed feeding Marigold some sugar cubes. He cleared his throat loudly, hands finding purchase on his hips. 

Hongjoong’s head jerked up, surprise blooming behind his pupils. “Oh, uh, you're back,” he said dumbly, swiftly pulling his hand behind his back. Marigold whined, upset.

Seonghwa looked at him incredulously. “And where is her normal horse feed?” 

Hongjoong’s eyes shifted guiltily. “...She ate it,” he admitted reluctantly.

Seonghwa released a long sigh. “And what have I told you about overfeeding her.”

“I wasn’t.”

Ignoring the blatant lie, Seonghwa shook his head disapprovingly. “Hongjoong, it’s not good for her.”

“She’s a grown horse! She can make her own decisions,” he argued, stepping back when Marigold wouldn't stop nudging at his arm, whining.

“Exactly. A horse. Now, put the sugar down.”

Hongjoong’s face scrunched until he looked like a disgruntled toddler, upset they hadn't got their way. Still, Hongjoong pulled the hand Marigold had been nudging at from behind his back and tossed the sugar cubes into the distance. Seonghwa released an exasperated sigh, watching Marigold gallop after it.

When Seonghwa looked back, Hongjoong was already by the fire, swirling whatever he had put in the pot with a wooden spoon. He settled beside him, curiously peering in at the thick broth.

“You do realise she's centuries older than you, right?” Hongjoong said, pulling out the spoon. “There’s no need to act like her mother.”

Seonghwa watched him blow softly at the broth before the words hit him. “I am not acting like her mother,” he spluttered, baffled.

“Here,” Hongjoong said, moving the spoon to Seonghwa’s lips. “Try it.” When Seonghwa opened his mouth to respond, Hongjoong thrust the spoon into his mouth, forcing the warm liquid down his throat.

Hongjoong waited as Seonghwa swallowed, observing as his face fell. “This desperately needs more seasoning,” he declared, snatching the spoon from Hongjoong’s hand.

Hongjoong gladly took a backseat, watching with a barely suppressed twinkle of triumph. Seonghwa, successfully distracted by the stew, had completely lost any strongly worded argument he planned to have with the pirate. That was perhaps as good a win as Hongjoong could get.

Seonghwa worked like a chef, his focus unbroken even when Marigold had trotted up to him with round, pleading eyes and nudged his shoulder for more sugar. When he was done, he’d given her an earful about her diet, and Hongjoong had stifled a laugh in fear of being the next victim, opting to ration the stew into two separate bowls instead of taking on the prince’s wrath.

Taking his bowl with thanks, Seonghwa settled beside a wall. Now that he was fully clothed, he found that the area was surprisingly warm, so he was entirely unbothered by the coldness that radiated from the rock.

“Hongjoong,” he called after a few mouthfuls had warmed his throat. “What happened after I fell in the river?”

Hongjoong swallowed what had been in his mouth, resting his spoon back into the bowl. “I think you hit a rock. Your back is bruised, so it makes sense. That’s probably when you lost consciousness, though I’m not sure from what point you remember.”

“I remember hitting the water,” Seonghwa interjected. “And I remember my throat burning — my head pounding. It was dark and cold, and I thought…”

“Thought what?”

Seonghwa bit his lip, hesitant. Telling Hongjoong would do them no good. It was much too vulnerable to confess, a raw shred of honesty that any sane person would keep locked tight within their heart. And yet, Seonghwa found it startlingly easy to turn the lock.

“Thought I might never see you again,” he answered, his words whispered into silence that stretched long after he had spoken. It was unclear whether or not Hongjoong would respond, so Seonghwa, made anxious by his speechlessness, filled the air for him. “I mean, what sane person jumps off a cliff? What would've happened if we both drowned? We’d be no help to anyone, and Wooyoung would be left waiting for help that would never arrive!”

“We would've healed eventually,” Hongjoong interrupted. 

A small sigh of relief, barely noticeable, left Seonghwa. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone heals here. Those are the rules. You don't die, but you must suffer through any pain inflicted until your body repairs itself or, of course, a demon eats you.”

Seonghwa swallowed. “How long does it take to heal naturally?” he asked curiously, his thoughts taking him back to the battle on the mountain. “If I had been one of those burnt by Marigold's flames, how long would it take?”

“Honestly? I don't know,” Hongjoong confessed. “It's slow from what I've heard. Excruciatingly so.”

“From what you've heard…” Seonghwa repeated under a breath, thoughtful. “You know so much about this place. It's like you've been here before.”

“Yeah.” Hongjoong laughed, as if Seonghwa had meant it as a joke. His joy did not reach his eyes. “Almost.”

Unsettled by the hollow response, Seonghwa took a big mouthful of his food and changed the subject. “What happened after you jumped in? I can’t imagine it was easy finding me.”

“On the contrary, you were bleeding quite profusely. I just followed the pool of blood.”

“Bleeding?!” Seonghwa exclaimed, startled. It took everything he had not to lay his bowl down and search his body for injury. “Bleeding where?” 

“Like I said, I believe you hit a couple rocks, so there were a few places. But the one that gave me the biggest headache was your shoulder. I don't recommend going back to the bank… It’s messy.”

While Hongjoong’s guilt toward Seonghwa was certainly the reason for his kindness and protection, his actions today felt greater — an unbreached line that seemed unexplainable. It was one thing to help in the city or to search for him when lost, but it was a completely different thing for Hongjoong to throw himself from a cliff, potentially greatly injuring himself, just to save Seonghwa. It seemed deeper somehow. These were not the actions of a pirate, and if they were, they were not without deceit. So, what was it then that Hongjoong was hiding?

“You helped me?” 

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Hongjoong asked, a frown tugging at his lips. “After I found you in the water, I pulled us up to the surface. The rapids were too great to escape, so we ended up washed downstream. I pulled us out as soon as I could, but you were frozen, unbreathing, and covered in blood. Most of my crew are excellent swimmers. I’ve only ever had to resuscitate a handful of people in my life.” 

Hongjoong paused, his lips thinning as the memory resurfaced in his mind. He placed down the bowl. He was done eating. Seonghwa looked back at his own, finding it still half full, and ate quickly to distract himself from the tormented look on Hongjoong’s face. 

“When you started breathing…” Hongjoong’s eyes found his, something unsaid lingering between them. “I was relieved.” Hongjoong’s smile was small, but it shocked Seonghwa nonetheless.

Relieved? Relieved he didn't have to wait for Seonghwa to wake from a coma or relieved he was alright? Seonghwa was too afraid of the answer to ask.

“I brought a lot of medicine. You like to cause me trouble, so I came prepared. Your bruises and a few scratches still remain, but they'll leave over the next few hours,” he explained, taking a small pause. Before he continued, he took a breath. 

“Marigold found us shortly after I’d healed most of your wounds. Just in time too. The only thing I could not remedy was your hypothermia. She brought the artefact to me, and I used it to find this place.” Hongjoong gestured around him with his hands while Seonghwa swallowed back another spoonful. Eating, he decided, was the best way to stop his mind from jumping to what happened next. 

“I took all the expendable fabrics we had and started a fire. I placed you next to it while I removed your clothes. I apologise, but I hope you understand my options were limited. They were freezing and heavy with water and blood. They had to go.” 

Seonghwa devoured his final mouthful and placed his bowl slowly onto the floor. 

“And, if it helps, I didn't look at your dick.”

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa exclaimed at the pirate’s vulgar language, face fully red. Silently, he cursed the fire for showcasing his flushed expression so clearly.

“I take it that did not help…” Hongjoong drawled, sensing the lapse in his judgement. “Well, alright,” he said, rising rather rapidly to his feet. “It's getting late, and we have to leave early, so I’m going to tie up Marigold for the night."

Before Seonghwa could respond, he was gone.

The artefact was a godsend. In a matter of days, they had almost made up for their drastic detour, and Hongjoong had told him that soon enough they would come upon Death’s wood. 

According to Hongjoong, it was a forest that surrounded the god's palace. A place where Death herded dead plants and hoarded them for the rest of eternity. Seonghwa had wanted to ask why, but he couldn't bring himself to lift his tongue, so he swallowed back his curiosity and grunted out a non-response instead.

When Seonghwa dismounted from Marigold, he stumbled. He knew he should've just bottled up the strange emotion that had been clouding his mind for the past week and taken Hongjoong's helping hand, but he couldn't help it. His skin felt like a different entity with a mind too unruly and wild to keep under lock and key. 

It hadn't been this way before. Once, in a time Seonghwa could no longer recall, he hadn't felt so… raw. Every time Hongjoong spoke or held his gaze too long or touched him, he felt all jittery and shaken. Like he'd been injected with ten straight shots of adrenaline at once, his heart beating too erratically to be normal.

After whatever had transpired between them back at the cliffside, Seonghwa had felt hyper aware of Hongjoong — his every move logged in his memory.

Riding together had been hell. For as close as they were, Seonghwa had never felt so far from someone. At a time he could not pinpoint, something within his brain had snapped. Their conversations, once teasing and easy, had turned stilted and awkward. And it was no fault of Hongjoong's. Seonghwa was hauntingly aware that the weirdness lingering between them was his fault. 

It was only when they slept, beds rolled out on opposite sides of their temporary camps, that Seonghwa could truly feel the weight of their separation. Coldness clung to him, a constant reminder of that which he had lost, and like clockwork, each night his mind would retrace every moment spent at Hongjoong’s side. His thoughts were a monster of their own, forging fantasies Seonghwa wished to live in and replaying memories as if on loop. It made his nights sleepless and his mornings awkward. 

Seonghwa looked to the sky, noting how thick the dense fog lingering over them had gotten. They had ridden a considerable amount today, long, flickering shadows crawling over dusty stone, yet Seonghwa’s mind was electric, his skin buzzing in all the places that had pressed against Hongjoong. It was hard concentrating on helping set up camp when his head seemed so content to live in daydream, his fingers fumbling and then fumbling even more when Hongjoong returned from settling Marigold for the night.

Seonghwa flinched when Hongjoong suddenly appeared at his side, aiding with some of the straps he had been struggling with. Seonghwa cursed himself silently, spying Hongjoong's confused frown. He had been acting strangely. He knew he had. And, it seemed, that Hongjoong knew it too.

“What?” Seonghwa gasped. “Nothing's wrong? Why would anything be wrong?” An awkward, forced laugh came from Seonghwa, strained as if a sword had been placed at his throat.

“You’re right.” Hongjoong sighed, pushing the bag across the floor toward Seonghwa, latch successfully unclasped. “Why would I ever have thought your sudden aversion to me strange?”

“It's not like that,” Seonghwa protested, his hands occupying themselves by fiddling with the undone clasp.

“If I crossed a line at any moment, I'd rather you told me,” Hongjoong said. “It was what happened at the river, right? The resuscitation. Or, perhaps, after that?”

“No, no— Hongjoong, stop.” Seonghwa shook his head, reaching forward to crawl closer to Hongjoong before he could stop himself. By the time he came to his senses, he was close enough to measure the distance between their folded knees with his hand. “It's… It's not what you are thinking.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed, sceptical. “It's not?”

Swallowing at the lump in his throat, Seonghwa lowered his gaze shyly, hands clenching in his lap. “No. It's… rather than aversion, I would say I rather… enjoyed it.” A warm shade of red coloured Seonghwa’s face, spreading down the long expanse of his neck and slipping into his blouse. “That morning with you— us touching… It had not been quite as unpleasant as I might've anticipated.”

“And had you?”

Surprised, Seonghwa lifted his eyes to Hongjoong's face. “What?” He frowned, a small, puzzled line drawing between his brows.

“Anticipated it?”

Seonghwa's heart stilled, and as if drawn, he met Hongjoong's piercing stare. A breath, bated and bereft of any calming effect Seonghwa might've wished it to have, broke between his lips. “Would it be so terrible of me to admit I had?” he asked, his voice hardly a whisper.

Hongjoong's eyes searched Seonghwa's face, tracing every contour with intensity that shouldn't have felt as gentle as it did. “And what’s so terrible about it?”

“Well, you're…” Seonghwa bit his lip.

“Devilishly handsome?” Smirked Hongjoong, something playful twinkling within his eyes.

“You,” Seonghwa corrected.

Hongjoong winced, his smirk instantly squashed. “Ouch.”

“No, I didn't mean it in a bad way,” Seonghwa blurted, panicking. “Actually, it's not even really about you. It's me. I’m… well–” Seonghwa waved his hands around dramatically. “—You know!”

Unfortunately, Hongjoong did not seem to understand what Seonghwa was trying to convey through his usage of wild hand gestures, his face remaining as blank and clueless as ever.

Evidently frustrated that Hongjoong was not getting what he was trying to say, Seonghwa huffed. “You know — This!” He gestured between them. “I'm not used to this.” 

“This?”

“The– The touching and stuff,” Seonghwa exclaimed, his cheeks impossibly red.

For a silent moment, Hongjoong observed Seonghwa. Then, without warning, he asked, “When was the last time you were touched by someone other than me?”

Seonghwa froze, his heartbeat deafening in his ears. Of all the things Hongjoong might've asked, Seonghwa had not expected that one.

“Generally,” Hongjoong added quickly.

Seonghwa coughed, resting his hand over his heart as if to encourage stillness within the pounding of his chest. “I suppose at my last wedding, though…” His eyes drifted, growing increasingly distant as memory flashed before him. “He died at the brush of my fingertips.”

They all had. His hands were death itself, filled by rotten veins coursing with malicious magic beyond Seonghwa's control. How could anyone dare touch him?

“I can no longer die,” Hongjoong stated.

Seonghwa met his gaze carefully. “Nor can I.” His voice was slow. Measured.

“And so, I will ask again.” Hongjoong shifted, moving closer. Seonghwa’s back hit a wall. Hongjoong was close, unimaginably so, his steady breaths fanning over Seonghwa’s heated skin. Seonghwa shivered, though he couldn't say it had been due to the cold. “All this time, have you been anticipating, Seonghwa?” 

Breathless, nothing more than a whisper, and yet undoubtedly spoken, Seonghwa said, “Yes.”

A slow, creeping smile claimed Hongjoong's lips. “Good,” he said, raising a hand to Seonghwa's cheek. “As have I.”

Hongjoong’s fingers were soft against his skin. They shouldn't have been. The scarred tissue from years of labour should have rendered them rough and callous, and yet Seonghwa was held like glass. And it was so easy too. Seonghwa succumbed to Hongjoong’s will without thought, leaning against his hand, pressing the curve of his cheek into his palm.

Hongjoong’s eyes were ocean deep, and Seonghwa was sinking fast. Any other time Seonghwa would’ve turned away, embarrassed to be stared at with such intensity. Perhaps it should have scared him to be perceived so deeply — to be so wholly seen — but it felt oddly freeing. Despite everything he was and could be, Hongjoong was still choosing to hold him. To cherish him in all his wickedness and more. Seonghwa couldn't look away if he tried. He was utterly enamoured. Right now, Seonghwa thought he might finally understand sailors. Had Hongjoong been a siren, he would've gladly jumped overboard too.

Hongjoong’s thumb circled the rosy apples of Seonghwa’s cheeks. His gaze simmered with some unexplainable emotion. Seonghwa’s breath was shallow, his throat dry and speechless. There were words he could say, but they hung heavy on his tongue, unwilling to enter unknown territory.

Seonghwa followed Hongjoong’s gaze when it dipped. They were close enough, barely a hair's width apart, that Seonghwa could no longer deny the swimming thought that perhaps Hongjoong wanted this too. So, with a sudden surge of courage, Seonghwa leaned forward and closed the distance between him and Hongjoong.

Their lips slotted together with passion, Hongjoong’s head tilting just in time to prevent their noses bumping. His lips were so warm, their taste unlike anything Seonghwa had ever tried before. Heart thumping, Seonghwa allowed himself to be swallowed by Hongjoong. 

The pirate’s kiss was intense but never rough. It felt like he was being devoured, Hongjoong’s tongue slipping between his lips with a hunger Seonghwa was unfamiliar with. It left him gasping when they broke apart, a heated want swelling low in his stomach.

His ears were filled with nothing but his own heartbeat, the steady thump fading into the background as Hongjoong recaptured Seonghwa’s lips. The hand that had previously rested upon Seonghwa’s shoulder slipped down his side. A shiver ran through Seonghwa, his back arching away from the wall, his body falling into Hongjoong’s. 

Their chests met, moving synced to one another’s heartbeats as Hongjoong’s hand slipped lower. Settling over the plump curve of Seonghwa’s ass, Hongjoong gave a firm squeeze as he tugged Seonghwa further up his lap, eliciting a low sound from Seonghwa that he had never made before. Hongjoong took it in his stride, his kiss picking up fervour, but Seonghwa pulled away with a gasp.

“I just moaned,” he remarked breathlessly, as if the mere concept was baffling to him. Hongjoong looked at him with a note of confusion. “You made me moan.”

“I can do a lot more than that,” he murmured, a smirk sliding onto his lips. 

Seonghwa bit his cheek. “Like what?” he asked, raising a hand to brush back some of the hair stuck to Hongjoong’s face.

The hand that had been softly caressing Seonghwa’s face fell as Hongjoong settled his palms on his hips. His grasp was firm and relentless. Positioning Seonghwa’s hips against his, Hongjoong brought them impossibly close. Seonghwa exhaled a soft sigh when he felt them brush together. There was an odd mix of desperation and relief that tightened within Seonghwa every time Hongjoong rolled against him.

Before he could catch his breath, Hongjoong’s voice was in his ear. “Feel good?” he asked, kissing over the pulse point below his ear.

Seonghwa shuddered. He hadn't before realised how aching and strained he was. Now, as Hongjoong languidly ground into him, it was all he could think about.

Though he tried to speak, his jaw was locked, and all that fell was a pathetic whimper. Seonghwa’s head tipped back, hitting the stone as Hongjoong sucked on his neck softly, his pace unrelenting. The pressure built inside of him, the heat in his stomach growing until it was burning. His breath came erratically, his brain fogging into nonsensical mush as soft, erotic noises fell from his lips. A staggered moan ripped from his throat, his body shaking as an intense pleasure washed over him.

The feeling was unfamiliar, unlike any sensation he had had before. It left his skin tingling, as if lit alight by tiny sparking embers, and itched a particular scratch he hadn’t known was there.

“You came so soon.” Pouted Hongjoong, his face blurred as Seonghwa’s heavy eyelids flickered open. “Got yourself all messy before I even got to see how pretty you are.”

“I…” Seonghwa blinked at him lazily as he tried to find his words. “Sorry,” he said, looking away in shame. “It's my first time doing… this.”

“What?” Hongjoong gaped, his brow creased when Seonghwa looked back at him. “You’ve never orgasmed before?”

Heat crept into Seonghwa’s cheeks, and though his skin was still flushed and sweaty, he somehow grew hotter. “I, um, no,” he admitted. “But I've read things?”

Hongjoong cocked an eyebrow, his lips tugging into something teasing. “Oh? What kind of things?”

Seonghwa stiffened, sucking in a short breath. “How you… you know.”

Hongjoong shook his head, biting his lip as if to stifle a laugh. “You’ll have to be more clear. I'm not quite sure what you mean.” 

Seonghwa’s plump lips puffed into a stubborn pout as he lightly slapped Hongjoong’s shoulder. “Stop teasing,” he whined, making Hongjoong release a rumbling laugh.

Hongjoong's laughter was like rolling waves, warmed by the kindness of the sun. It made Seonghwa feel strange — filled his gut with that weird, indescribable emotion he'd been pushing away these past few days. It grew and grew and was then made tenfold worse by the heart-stoppingly delicate way Hongjoong stared at him.

“What?” Seonghwa asked, his cheeks tingling with heat.

“Nothing.” He shrugged, his nonchalance lasting only a moment before his lips broke with a playful grin. Hongjoong swept Seonghwa off the ground, his arms wrapping around his body firmly as he hauled him deeper into the cave they would be staying in tonight.

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa exclaimed, his nails clawing into Hongjoong's skin as he clung desperately onto him.

In only a few strides, Hongjoong had gently placed Seonghwa on top of where he'd already set up his bed for the night. When he looked up, Hongjoong’s hair had fallen over his brow again, and Seonghwa was reaching out before he even thought to.

Catching his hand, Hongjoong smiled into Seonghwa's palm, pressing a chaste kiss to the soft, unblemished skin. Seonghwa let Hongjoong place his hand down, watching breathlessly as Hongjoong's fingers found purchase at his hips, tracing the edge of his waistband. 

When Hongjoong’s eyes flickered up, he said, “C’mon, let me help you clean up.”

Seonghwa nodded minutely. “Okay,” he replied shakily.

Hooking his hands around the fabric, Hongjoong tugged, carefully prying the trousers from Seonghwa. He tossed them behind him haphazardly. Usually, Seonghwa would've said something, but currently, he couldn't find it in himself to care about messiness, not when Hongjoong was looking at him like that.

Hunger boiled behind Hongjoong's hooded eyes, his stare enough to make Seonghwa squirm. “Ah,” Hongjoong exclaimed, catching Seonghwa's pale thigh and pressing it back down. “Don't cover yourself.”

“It's embarrassing,” Seonghwa muttered, turning to hide his face in his shoulder.

Hongjoong stopped him, pulling his face away and trapping him in a slow kiss. It was wet and a little messy, but Seonghwa loved it. He loved that Hongjoong tasted a little salty, like he was part of the sea itself. He loved the intimacy of it all — the way it made his heart swell and his breath stop. And, perhaps most of all, he loved that it was Hongjoong that was doing it.

Hongjoong's slow kiss slipped from Seonghwa’s lips, pressing instead along his jaw. He trailed up and up, stopping only beneath his ear. Hongjoong took the lobe between his teeth, giving the briefest nick that still somehow knocked the wind out of Seonghwa. “Just focus on me, okay?” he said into Seonghwa's ear, hands already tugging at Seonghwa's undergarments.

Seonghwa shifted, moving his hips to help Hongjoong peel away the soiled fabric. When they were finally off, Seonghwa shivered. This was more than he had ever done and certainly far more than anyone had ever seen. Seonghwa barely liked looking at himself, never mind touching. Being so exposed was strange. Not uncomfortable, just… new.

Trailing his palms up Seonghwa's tender legs, Hongjoong traced his figure as if he were committing it to memory. His lips were soft against him, so light they tickled. He was careful with his caress, nearly unbearably so. 

Seonghwa ached, his body throbbing with increasing want. He tried to shift, but Hongjoong held him still, his hands pushing up Seonghwa's tunic as he pulled back. “So beautiful,” he said, his thumb mindlessly rubbing some of the cum between Seonghwa’s legs. Seonghwa watched in shock as Hongjoong licked his release right off the pad of his finger. “So beautiful and messy, all for me.”

“A-Ah, Hongjoong, wait!” he gasped. “You can't eat that!”

“Oh? Why can't I? I need to clean you up.”

“You shouldn't lick my…”

“But you taste so good,” Hongjoong said, hand softly curling around Seonghwa's leg. Pulling his leg up, Hongjoong hitched it over his shoulder. “Haven't you read—” Hongjoong looked up with a smirk that curved a little higher when he saw the surprise on Seonghwa's face. “—stuff?”

Seonghwa swallowed dryly. “N-Not this…”

“Hey, I‘ll stop if you want,” Hongjoong said before licking down the length of Seonghwa's thigh, stopping just shy of the splattering of cum painting his skin. Hongjoong looked up with a lopsided grin. “But I really don't want to.” 

His gut filling with desire, Seonghwa forced words onto his tongue. “I-I don't want to either.”

“Good.”

Against him, Hongjoong's tongue was warm. He wasted no time lapping up Seonghwa's cum, letting it paint his lips a shade that made Seonghwa bite his cheek. The possessive part of him was incredibly pleased. He liked having Hongjoong's mouth all over him — liked having himself all over Hongjoong.

A sharp gasp fell from Seonghwa's pink lips, his legs unconsciously tensing as his toes curled. He fought against the urge to roll his head and looked down at Hongjoong, who was happily licking the length of his cock. The sight made him throb, a small moan echoing when Hongjoong pressed a kiss on the tip.

Hongjoong's eyes, dark and starved, flickered up, catching Seonghwa. His breath hitched, heart stuttering, as a wide grin spread over Hongjoong's face. “What kind of stuff have you read?”

Seonghwa blinked, gaping soundlessly while he tried to stop his mind spinning. “Um, how to pleasure you and things…” 

Hongjoong raised a brow, teasing. “Me?” 

“I mean, my, um, husband.”

Hongjoong frowned. “Ah, that's not good,” he said. His eyes shifted, hardening into something steely. “No, that’s really not good, ‘hwa.” 

“H-Huh?” Seonghwa gasped. His brain was still not one hundred per cent caught up, and it showed embarrassingly clearly.

“Talking about another man in front of me…” Hongjoong stopped himself, as if continuing the thought was too unbearable. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

Seonghwa blinked. It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, Seonghwa could not stop his laughter. “You're ridiculous,” he said breathlessly, slapping Hongjoong's shoulder lightly. His body felt unbound. Like in a single breath of laughter, all the mangled knots had loosened and fallen apart. Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong with a small smile.

“Maybe so,” he agreed, “but I certainly won't be second to any man. Not for you.”

Suddenly, Seonghwa’s body slipped down the sheets, his other leg thrown over Hongjoong as he brought them closer. Seonghwa choked out a moan when Hongjoong lowered his head and took him into his mouth. His legs clamped around Hongjoong, his back arching as his head tossed with pleasure. His mouth spoke nonsense, a pointless garble of tight grunts and moans as Hongjoong's tongue circled him. Seonghwa's hands found Hongjoong's hair easily, clutching the long strands with little care for how much he was tugging. Hongjoong didn't seem to mind, his head moving with increasing vigour. 

Hongjoong's mouth was hot, the heat spreading through Seonghwa's body as quick as venom. Seonghwa had never had something so tight around him. The feeling was sinfully good, the kind of pleasure that made you simultaneously writhe and plead for more. 

When Hongjoong finally broke rhythm and raised his head, it took Seonghwa a second to notice. His eyelids fluttered, his thrashing head stilling. His cock lay against his stomach, wet and twitching with embarrassing desperation. Hongjoong looked down at him, satisfied. Seonghwa pursed his lips. 

“H-Hongjoong,” he rasped, his throat feeling dry after moaning so much. “I want to… continue.”

Hongjoong hummed, looking increasingly pleased. “Don't worry,” he said, peeling away the last of his clothes. “I intend to.”

Seonghwa gasped, unsure where to look first: the beautiful line of his collar, his thick, inked biceps or his heavy, erect cock. So, so, so many wonderful choices. 

Without warning, Hongjoong’s hands were on him, lifting Seonghwa until their positions were reversed and Seonghwa rested on top of Hongjoong. Hongjoong tugged on Seonghwa's tunic. The sensation was enough to pull Seonghwa from his shocked stupor, and he helped Hongjoong lift it over his head.

“How would you please me, ‘hwa?” Hongjoong asked, bringing Seonghwa down into a heated kiss.

Seonghwa's heart did a little flip, his body unimaginably hot. He wanted to reply, to say some smart retort that might fluster Hongjoong, but despite his effort, Seonghwa couldn't even imagine a sentence, never mind actually form one. 

Hongjoong took Seonghwa’s hips, pulling him until their cocks brushed against each other. Seonghwa gasped, breaking the kiss. His head fell onto Hongjoong's shoulder. “Like this?” Hongjoong’s lips were against Seonghwa's ear, and the heat of his breath sent an electric thrill through him. 

“Ah, uh, no…” Seonghwa tried to speak, but the friction between them was sinful. In between moans he said, “No, the books were different.”

“Tell me,” Hongjoong said into his ear. His voice was rough. So tense that Seonghwa was beginning to believe he wasn’t the only one utterly wrecked.

“It was… different. I should, ah, lie on my back.”

“Hm, like before. What then?” Hongjoong’s chest reverberated with the sound of his voice. Seonghwa could feel it rumbling softly underneath him. His mouth struggled to stay closed.

“Ah, and then, um, accept whatever is done to me. I know it hurts. I'm not scared.”

Underneath him, Hongjoong froze, his erotic movements coming to an immediate halt. Seonghwa struggled onto his arms and looked at him, troubled. Why had he stopped? Did Seonghwa do something wrong? Hongjoong looked angry, his brow knitted, and his once hooded, lustful eyes had sharpened until they resembled a blade's edge. Hongjoong was caught in thought for what was realistically only a few moments but, to Seonghwa, felt like eternity. Only when his tense jaw unlocked and he spoke did Seonghwa allow himself to breathe.

“Come here,” Hongjoong said, beckoning Seonghwa back down. 

He was unsure. Though Seonghwa was almost certain Hongjoong wasn't mad at him, he still feared he'd messed up.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong called, sensing his hesitation. He was clearly trying to restrain his anger. Like he’d gathered it into a pile and thrown a sheet over top. It was rage blanketed by softness only meant for Seonghwa. “It's okay.”

Seonghwa allowed Hongjoong to trace his hand over the bloom of his cheek. His hand was warm, and Seonghwa found himself easily leaning into his familiar, coarse hold.

“I'm not mad at you, I promise.” Hongjoong's eyes had rounded. Still, his brow remained stitched, a tense line drawing them together. Seonghwa found it disarming how earnestly he gazed up at him. Seonghwa wasn't the sun; he was not the moon, nor was he a star, but Hongjoong looked at him like he was. As if he were the universe and more. 

“Forget what you've read,” Hongjoong told him.

“But—”

“If you want a guide, I'd be glad. And if you want rules,” a grin spread over his face, “let me give you one.” Seonghwa felt his breath upon his neck before he heard his voice. “Cry only for my name.” Hongjoong nipped his ear teasingly, and Seonghwa gasped.

“Come here, ‘hwa.” Hongjoong repeated, a little more carefully. “I'll show you how good love can feel.”

Love, Seonghwa thought, was that what this was?

The rest of the night was blissful. Their voices echoed in the cave, mingling and intertwining so intrinsically that they melded into one another. Even their hearts aligned, beating in time with one another. For those moments, they were neither king nor prince. There was no pretence — no false bravado. They were but two souls meeting as one. 

“You know what's really dumb and stupid?” Seonghwa said, nestling a little closer to the crook of Hongjoong’s neck. 

Over the past few hours, the mist had thinned, allowing dim grey moonlight to slip through. There was a howl in the air, as there was every night, but it no longer frightened Seonghwa. He felt free in every aspect. At Hongjoong's side, not even fear could reach him.

“What?” Hongjoong shifted. 

Seonghwa got the sense that Hongjoong wanted to gaze at him lovingly again, but now that Seonghwa was no longer maddened by lust, he felt shy. Brave, but shy. He turned into Hongjoong's body a little more and sucked in a breath. 

“When you said you wanted to marry me…” he began. 

Suddenly, he was transported to that very first time he'd met Hongjoong. He remembered his dread and the relief that came with Hongjoong's arrival. The thud of boots now thrown somewhere upon the stone floor. A grin Seonghwa had first thought mad, then begrudgingly charming. His presence had been so much larger than life. He had been untouchable.

Seonghwa smiled, drawing a strange shape on Hongjoong's chest with his finger. “That made me really happy.”

Hongjoong laughed softly. “You mean when I crashed your wedding?”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa agreed.

It was easier that way. He was feeling brave but not yet quite brave enough to say what it really was — to explain something he himself did not entirely understand. 

“Made me feel… I don't know, wanted? For once in my life, someone had come for me. You didn't want my parents. It was me. You wanted me.” Seonghwa spoke like he still couldn't quite believe it himself. “You didn't take your eyes off me, do you know that?”

“I couldn't if I tried,” grumbled Hongjoong. Seonghwa thought he must've been getting sleepy.

“It made me feel special.”

“You are special,” Hongjoong replied not a second later. He hadn't even thought about it. He couldn't have. It had slipped as easily as water between his fingers, almost as if it were a thought he hadn't caught in time.

Seonghwa's heart clenched, though this time it was not painful. “I think I could get used to you telling me that.” He pressed a quick kiss into the side of Hongjoong's face.

They slipped into silence shortly after, fatigue weighing heavy over the both of them. Seonghwa shut his eyes, but he did not sleep. He simply listened to Hongjoong's steady breaths as his mind lingered over unspoken words. There was one question that remained. One more thing he felt he needed to say before his bravery faded in the light of morning.

“Hey Hongjoong,” Seonghwa called quietly. His voice was gentle, only loud enough to stir the silence. “This… means something, right?” 

Whether Hongjoong heard it or not, he did not reply. Seonghwa told himself he was simply asleep and closed his eyes. But then, if Hongjoong had been asleep, why had his breath caught in his throat?

Chapter Text

Stone cracked, crumbling into a heap of gravel and dust sparsely seasoned over hard dirt. The ground grew uneven, distorted roots swimming beneath their feet, upturning dry soil and spilling it under the towering leafless branches writhing above them. 

The trees, white as bone, stood in rigid rows, their branches never quite touching — a graveyard of skeletal oak left to welcome trespassing souls and rot until the last frayed piece of bark decayed. The world had turned from bleak grey to hollow white. Only three remained as they once were. Seonghwa, the horse, and the mist from which they could never outrun.

Seonghwa watched how, just as the landscape had shifted, so too did Hongjoong’s behaviour.

Hongjoong was weird, which, yes, Seonghwa was aware, was not something to gawk at by itself, but conjoined to the fact that he was being especially weird after sleeping with Seonghwa, led him to the conclusion that he was bad. Tragically, helplessly awful. So much so that Hongjoong refused to acknowledge him or the intimate time they had shared together at all. In fact, he seemed so repulsed now that he refused to even touch him. It was like Seonghwa was made of lava — enticingly warm for a moment or two, but too painful to actually touch.

It reminded him all too well of his life back at the palace. How, though he might have searched, there was never anybody to meet his eyes. Nobody to greet him with neither smile nor snicker nor smirk. No quick quip or stubborn argument to meet his words. In fact, the palace held no one to heed his words at all. 

His home was nothing more than an embellished cell, his hands bound in silk that weighed upon him like metal chains, shackling him to the notion that he could never belong without. His curse made him dangerous. Wicked and wrong. Everything he could not let the world see. Everything they could not allow the world to see.

His curse scared them. It made Seonghwa a threat.

They knew what his curse really meant. How it came to be. They knew that the wickedness inside Seonghwa had not always been that way. No, he had not been born wrong but rather made to be that way. The truth held deep within him — the reason Seonghwa knew he would never escape his gilded cage even if, by some miracle, his curse was no more was because they would never give up that which they have gained from Seonghwa. He could never be more than they would allow. A blight and nothing else.

When Seonghwa looked over at Hongjoong's back, the pirate's loud footsteps purposefully quick, he couldn't help but wonder if that night had helped him realise it too. That Seonghwa was more effort than he was worth. He concluded, in that moment, that it had probably been an accumulation of things. Being a terrible bed and an emotional weight he didn't want to carry… it had tumbled into something monstrous that Hongjoong couldn't handle. 

It was infuriating. If Hongjoong thought his silence was kindness, then he was greatly mistaken. The mere concept of being perceived as too fragile to handle a hard truth pissed Seonghwa off. 

The longer Seonghwa thought about it, the greater his rage grew, picking up momentum until a storm thrashed within him and urged him to stomp after Hongjoong. To force him to listen.

His hands darted out, grabbing Hongjoong's coat so firmly that Seonghwa heard a tear. He didn't care. He continued to tug. Hongjoong turned sharply, his alarm evident in the folds of his face.

“Seonghwa? What're you—”

“You're ignoring me,” Seonghwa interrupted, venom he hadn't meant to spit seeping into his words.

“What?” Hongjoong frowned, his eyes slipping past Seonghwa to roam the desolate fog behind him. “No, I'm not.”

Seonghwa withdrew his hand, his fingers curling into tight fists at his sides. His jaw throbbed with a dull ache that only grew the longer Seonghwa ground his teeth together. “Why is it then that you can't even look me in the eye?” he asked, his tone picking up a few octaves as he grew increasingly louder — more frustrated. “If you think I'm so terrible, I'd rather you say it than ignore me!”

Hongjoong blinked, his gaze catching Seonghwa’s eyes for the first time in days, his confusion softening into something Seonghwa couldn't bear to look at. He turned his head away, blinking away the building tears, and took a large, shaky step back. Then another. And another. And, before Seonghwa realised it, he was running.

Smoke stung his lungs, the ever-looming mist tumbling over him in thick waves, swallowing him deeper and deeper until he couldn’t stretch out a hand without it disappearing into a cloud of white. There was hard dirt beneath his feet, the dull pound intertwining with his growing breathlessness. 

If Hongjoong desired so deeply for Seonghwa to disappear, then that would be just what he would do. He had the means to find him — an artefact that would hide Seonghwa until Hongjoong truly desired to find him. Hongjoong's blood would spill, and his blazing heart would, Seonghwa hoped, be filled with remorse. But until Hongjoong came to apologise, Seonghwa would remain lost.

The fog thinned at a particularly tall sculpture. It didn’t look like stone, the material taking on an unusual yellow tint. Sandstone, perhaps. At the palace, every sculpture was carved from blessed marble. Seonghwa had never seen carved sandstone. 

As he neared, Seonghwa slowed, his chest heaving as he looked upon the statue. It was bizarre to see, not quite smooth but not quite jagged either. The edges were pointed and boxy and, when Seonghwa ran his hand over the top, shockingly not at all as sharp as it looked. The entire figure looked like the epitome of illusion. Even the face, which so many say to be the secret to artistic intent, was puzzling. 

Seonghwa gazed at the head with a frown. Compared to the rest of the sculpture’s body, it was remarkably small, and its features were mostly obscured by a horned helmet. The visor was drawn, but in between the gaps, Seonghwa saw watchful eyes. Something in Seonghwa’s gut twisted, and he stepped forward, intent on taking a closer look. 

Suddenly, his foot dropped, the ground beneath him giving way under his weight. Seonghwa looked at his feet, confused when he saw that he had pressed a perfect stone square into the dense dirt. He pulled back immediately, catching strange engravings etched into the rock a split second before the ground started to rumble.

Seonghwa’s body shook, and he stumbled back, catching himself on a pale tree trunk. Bark stuck to his clammy palms, and sweat glistened on his brow. Seonghwa’s mind raced, his eyes darting from place to place.

In a moment, the fog had vanished, revealing the dilapidated remains of a small courtyard. A crumbling watchtower rested in the corner, the earth clambering up the stone and dragging it back into the ground. The stone was strong, but the dull ivy was relentless, clinging with unshakeable force even as it rattled.

The tremor within the rock seemed entirely different from that which had wracked through the cave. It was not quaking nor on the brink of collapse. It was rumbling, deep as thunder when echoing the warnings of imminent lightning.

Before his eyes, the earth cleaved. Rippling cracks that stretched and tore the ground in two. A thick cloud of dust swept into the air, causing Seonghwa a violent coughing fit that he returned from with horror. Now standing before him were a dozen towering sandstone figures.

Their eyes snapped onto Seonghwa, a chilling wave of fear flooding through him. They were glowing, burning with a colourless fire that simmered with all the rage of every vengeance held within the Path of Souls. And all of it — all the anger and the pain and the fury — rested solely upon Seonghwa.

His head felt light, a spreading numbness leaching into his fingertips. Seonghwa’s face was void of colour, his eyes so wide and unblinking that water swelled within them. His body quaking, it was no surprise when his legs gave out underneath him, sending Seonghwa crashing to the floor.

Hearing their footsteps resound, the boom shaking the ground beneath him, Seonghwa tried to scramble to his feet. They were far within the confines of the courtyard. Seonghwa had time to breathe and pick himself back up and run like hell. Still, even as he reassured himself, he could not halt his shaking nor his fumbling. He couldn’t quite prevent his own uselessness. 

Before Seonghwa could blink, he was off the ground. A suffocating, cutting pressure pressed against his throat as he was plucked from the earth by the back of his tunic. He gasped, finding the strength to claw at the strangling fabric. Seonghwa’s body moved swiftly through the air, turning until he came face to face with the very statue which had enamoured him only minutes earlier.

Their eyes locked, and Seonghwa’s limbs went rigid, hands freezing where they had been grasping at his neck. He heard buzzing. It was all around him, like his head was suddenly filled with a swarm of raging bees. It grew and grew until it drowned out even his own heartbeat.

There was buzzing, and then there was falling. 

The moment their eyes broke contact, Seonghwa could breathe again, though it was not without losing his heart to the fact he was rather rapidly plunging toward the ground. He wailed, arms flapping around him as if he thought he might fly away if he tried hard enough. 

Unfortunately, Seonghwa did not start flying. Instead, he was caught. 

Seonghwa huffed, the wind knocked out of him as the frantic sound of hooves filled his ears. His head spun, but he looked past the dizziness and found Hongjoong’s scowling face.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, shifting uncomfortably when he realised he was in Hongjoong’s arms, bodies so close he could feel Hongjoong’s heartbeat. And if Seonghwa could feel his, then there was no way Hongjoong wasn’t feeling Seonghwa’s.

But Hongjoong wasn’t even looking at him, and that made Seonghwa’s heart slow until he feared it had stopped. Seonghwa looked away quickly.

Marigold rode like she was the wind, billowing through the forest with the force of an unstoppable gale. Seonghwa wondered if perhaps it was her own fear that spurred her on, and then he felt even worse. She was probably terrified.

Behind them, sandstone crumbled. He saw that magnificent sculpture he had liked so much cut back to stones by Hongjoong's blade, glowing, cruel eyes now little more than a haunting memory Seonghwa was left to carry. There were others, dozens more. Seonghwa thought they might chase after them, but when they got far enough away, they shut down, as if they had been instructed to protect only a select radius.

Marigold rode until she physically could no more. The path was blocked by a large, gaping ravine. It cut deep into the earth and held it pried open. Marigold stopped just before the edge.

Withered roots looped through layers of dirt, anchoring bare, lifeless trees along the ledge. Seonghwa wouldn't have dared get near, but from the height upon Marigold's back, he could spy the steep incline down. Below the dirt was a thick layer of stone. Mostly smooth, but occasionally Seonghwa spotted a cluster of rocks jutting out at sharp angles. They looked piercing enough to draw blood. 

At the bottom lay a river. Small mounds of white cluttered the shoreline, and a few naked trees and brambles made their home on the bank. Seonghwa thought it all looked eerily similar to what lay beside the Path of Souls.

“Activating a burial ground? Really?” Hongjoong said, dismounting from Marigold. 

Immediately, Seonghwa was brought from his thoughts. “I didn't know!” he protested firmly, glaring at Hongjoong’s outstretched hand. “And I wouldn't have even ended up there had you not been such an ass,” argued Seonghwa, jumping down himself. Unfortunately, his foot slipped and he fell on his backside.

Hongjoong bit his lip and helped him back onto his feet. “I don’t believe I was.”

Seonghwa pulled away sharply. “Whether you believe it or not, you were.”

“Agree to disagree,” Hongjoong said stubbornly. Seonghwa's mouth flew open in outrage, but Hongjoong cut him off before he could speak. “Never mind who was in the wrong. We need to decide what we’re going to do about this.” He gestured toward the ravine that Seonghwa had been slowly stepping further and further away from. “It would be quicker to go through, but I've heard the ravine is home to some rather unruly creatures. I’ll leave the decision to you, Your Highness.”

Anger coiled within Seonghwa's stomach. He hadn't called him that in weeks. It felt like a punch to the gut. A reminder of just how far out of reach Hongjoong truly was. 

If he was trying to piss Seonghwa off, he was doing a marvellous job. First, his ‘not apology’. Next, cutting him off. And now, taunting nicknames? Did that man wish to make the afterlife his home? Seonghwa could certainly help make the arrangements.

“We go through,” Seonghwa snapped, his teeth gritting tightly together. “If only to escape your unpleasantness even a second sooner.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth only to close it a moment later, as if he had thought better of his words. Seonghwa hoped that meant he was feeling remorse for his rudeness and was choosing his words more carefully. He turned before he could be proven wrong.

Before they set off, Hongjoong went about securing Marigold's saddle and their bags. Seonghwa sat slumped against a tree trying to drown out the sounds. Seongwha definitely had bark dust littered in his hair, but he was too angry to care. Hongjoong had hurt him to a point not even his anger could fully mask. Seonghwa closed his eyes and tried to think of anything else. 

He started with the festival of colour back in the city. The swirling ink splatters and the beautiful murals. The dancing and the song and the laughter. The food and Hongjoo—

He ended up thinking about Marigold. First, his fear, and then his admiration and love. Seonghwa quickly found it a bad subject and moved on again. He started to think about the sea and then realised how stupid that was. At some point, Seonghwa stopped thinking and started counting. 

He was on one hundred and fifty seven when he heard footsteps. They paused, and Seonghwa peeked open an eye. Hongjoong stood in front of him holding a rope. 

“Come to tie me up?” he sneered. Clearly, the counting had not quelled his anger.

Hongjoong grinned. It was the same as ever, and that only made Seonghwa's frustration boil even more. Would it kill him to care even a little?

“Exactly,” Hongjoong said. “Now get up. I need to tie this around your waist.”

He offered a hand, but Seonghwa did not take it, nor did he accept Hongjoong's help knotting the rope around his waist. Seonghwa could do that just fine himself. Though his fingers felt too large and he fumbled for an embarrassingly long time, Seonghwa eventually managed to twist the rope into some semblance of a knot.

There was a tiny swell of pride that came with triumphing over something difficult. Hongjoong crushed it under his dirty boots in a moment.

“You can't tie it like that,” Hongjoong said with a scowl. “It'll come undone. Come here.”

Hongjoong motioned closer. Seonghwa jerked away. “I don't need your help,” he hissed, noticing that his knot had already loosened.

“Seonghwa, please.” Hongjoong sighed. He sounded tired, like maybe his nights hadn't been as peaceful as Seonghwa might've initially thought. “You can be angry at me all you want, but don't endanger yourself for the sake of spiteing me.”

Though he loathed to admit it, Seonghwa knew Hongjoong was right. The ravine was unpredictable. The only safety net keeping Seonghwa from splitting his skull should he slip would be this rope tethering him to Hongjoong. He knew Hongjoong should be the one to tie it. Still, his anger was a beast he struggled to calm. 

“Don't pretend like you actually care.” 

“What? Of course I care.” Hongjoong's frown was tight and confused. If Seonghwa hadn't known better, he would've thought Hongjoong looked hurt by the accusation. But that couldn't be right. “Seonghwa, I wouldn't have run after you if I didn't care.”

“Duty,” Seonghwa spat the word like a curse. “I know you feel guilty. I know you regret it.”

Given the look on Hongjoong’s face, Seonghwa knew he'd been right. Hongjoong was spooked. Undoubtedly so. With his wide eyes and gaping mouth, there was something wild about his expression. Like a cornered animal. Seonghwa's heart panged painfully.

“You think it's a mercy to keep the truth from me, but I already know.”

Hongjoong gulped. Seonghwa had never seen him so nervous. His face was screwed like he was bracing himself for a blow. 

“You do?” Hongjoong said. His voice was unsteady, more unsure than Seonghwa had ever known it to be.

“I do.” Seonghwa gritted out, his words like tar on his tongue. “I know I-I wasn't good for you.” 

Hongjoong's face unscrewed itself enough that he could cast a puzzled frown at Seonghwa. “Good for me?”

“I'm not embarrassed, and I'd rather you didn't ignore me. Let's just…” Seonghwa bit his lip, holding back a pitiful whimper. His eyes felt hot. “Let's just forget it ever happened and move on, okay?”

Hongjoong shook his head. “Seonghwa, what are you talking about?” 

“Are you really so cruel as to make me say it?” Seonghwa's throat felt full of sand, scratchy and uncomfortable.

Hongjoong blinked blankly at him. Oh right, Seonghwa reminded himself, Hongjoong was exactly that kind of cruel.

Seonghwa threw the bundle of rope into Hongjoong's chest before the glass over his eyes could shatter. He turned his red face away and wiped at his cheek just as quick. “Just hurry up and finish tying the rope. Make sure my knot is tight.”

Hongjoong didn't say anything after that, even though Seonghwa knew he wanted to. He kept opening his mouth, closing it after a second and then sighing. It was rather annoying. 

Nevertheless, Seonghwa tightened the lid on his bottled anger and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Although the path was wide enough for Marigold to easily trot her way down, it was winding and unsteady. Loose rocks rolled underfoot, knocking Seonghwa's balance every other step and making him sway uncontrollably. A problem only he seemed to be struggling with, he thought, bitterly watching Hongjoong’s and Marigold's eased movements.

When they were a quarter of the way down and Marigold had long left them in her dust (Seonghwa found it seriously unfair how easily such a large horse was able to scale rock), Hongjoong slowed until he was dawdling at Seonghwa’s side.

“Seonghwa… about before.”

“I'd rather if we didn't.” Seonghwa quickened his pace.

Hongjoong followed. “No, I've been thinking—”

“That would be a first.”

“—Were you talking about that night? When we had sex?”

“Was that not obvious?” Seonghwa tried to be nonchalant — to act like his mind wasn't turning itself inside out trying to escape the memory — but his anger had boiled into molten sadness that he struggled to choke back. His voice came out shaky. “And I think you've said enough. I'd rather we didn't dwell on this any longer.”

“I'm so stupid…” Hongjoong mumbled.

“Are you just now having this revelation?”

“Seonghwa, if I acted weird or distant after that night… I'm sorry. It wasn't you. It would never be you. You were amazing. No, better than amazing… perfect. I couldn't ask for a better partner.”

Seonghwa paused, his feet digging roots into the stone. “Then…” His eyes found Hongjoong's, desperate to uncover what mysteries they held. Futile, of course. Seonghwa could search every bottomless pocket and still have never searched deep enough to understand that man. “Why?”

Hongjoong looked away for an uncertain moment. “I just… I'm so fucking screwed,” he admitted, turning his head away once more. It was hard to describe, and Seonghwa could've been completely wrong, but Hongjoong might've actually been shy. “Being with you made me realise some stuff I'm not really sure how to deal with.”

Seonghwa scowled. That didn't sound good. “What do you mean?”

A small fond laugh echoed between them, and finally Hongjoong raised his head. His eyes met Seonghwa's in earnest. “I mean, you have me around your fucking finger. Seonghwa, I'd do anything you asked of me. Honestly, I'd probably debate it if you told me to throw myself over the ledge right now.”

“I…” Seonghwa’s lips pressed into a tight line as his eyes scoured Hongjoong’s face. His words were so confusing, yet his face was no better. It was so startlingly delicate. So oddly soft and vulnerable. “I don't understand.”

“No, I don't suppose you would. It doesn't even make sense to me.” Hongjoong sighed, running his hands through his hair. “When I'm around you, nothing makes sense. It fucks with my head. I think I like it, though. No, I know I do. And I think I've known for a while, but I just haven't been able to admit to myself that I… like you. Yeah, there, I said it. That's what I meant. I like you, Seonghwa, and it makes me do crazy, stupid shit.”

“No…” Seonghwa shook his head in vehement denial. He took a step back. “No, you don't get to say all that. You ignored me. You refused to touch me — to dignify me by meeting my eyes!”

“I was nervous!” Hongjoong defended, effortlessly bridging the distance between them.

Instead of moving back, Seonghwa stuck his hands on his hips and stared at the other man. Had Seonghwa not been so utterly shocked, he might've laughed at the absurdity of it all. “You can't be serious.”

“Most serious I fear I have ever been.”

Seonghwa felt exasperated yet so utterly fond. Hongjoong was so stupid, so helplessly foolish, that Seonghwa wondered how he had ever survived up to this point. Even still, Seonghwa couldn't help the small endeared smile that tugged on his lips. “You are the stupidest man I've ever known.” 

Without another word, Seonghwa surged forward. Their lips connected in a firm, desperate kiss, Seonghwa’s hand possessively grasping Hongjoong's neck and pulling him closer. Hongjoong met his mouth with equal vigour, his hands settling at his waist as he indulged in Seonghwa's sweet kisses.

Hongjoong pushed away just enough for them to catch their breath. “Fuck, you've been driving me crazy since I laid eyes on you,” he murmured into Seonghwa’s lips. “So fucking beautiful.” Hongjoong's mouth found its way to Seonghwa's jaw, pressing soft kisses along it.

“Your mouth is so filthy,” Seonghwa said, fingers curling into Hongjoong's hair as his hands began rubbing circles into Seonghwa's sides.

Hongjoong looked up at him, a twinkle of something dark and devilish in his eyes. “Oh yeah?” He smirked.

Seonghwa tugged him forward, claiming his lips in a hot, wet kiss. Eager, it took Seonghwa no time at all to push deeper into Hongjoong's mouth. He savoured Hongjoong’s taste as his tongue explored his mouth, his small, breathless moans swallowed greedily by Hongjoong. The movements of his tongue were so sinful and lovely that Seonghwa could feel his mind glazing over, his brain succumbing to the sensation of Hongjoong devouring him.

When they finally broke apart, Seonghwa couldn't stop his whine of protest. Hongjoong chuckled lightly, one of his hands reaching up to cup his jaw. His thumb brushed Seonghwa's pink cheeks, bringing a gentle smile to his previously disgruntled face.

“We could've been doing that this entire time if you'd actually talked to me instead of ignoring me,” Seonghwa said, his words instantly drawing Hongjoong's eyes to his red, glistening lips. Hongjoong ran his fingers over them once before dropping his hand to Seonghwa’s shoulder.

“I said I was sorry.” Hongjoong pouted.

Seonghwa couldn't help but lean forward and steal a chaste kiss from Hongjoong. Now that he knew what it felt like, Seonghwa feared he might want to kiss Hongjoong all the time. “It's going to take a lot more than words to make it up to me,” Seonghwa replied, moving to close the distance once more. Hongjoong stopped him, his eyes glued to something on his chest. 

“Uh, Seonghwa?” Hongjoong called softly. Seonghwa looked at him with a confused frown. “Where’s your charm?”

Immediately, Seonghwa reached for the necklace, dread churning in his stomach. Nothing. His hand grasped nothing. The thread must have torn when that statue had grabbed him.

Seonghwa slipped from Hongjoong's hold in an instant, his head hitting the ground with a thud. The rope around his waist dug into his gut, but the dizzying throb radiating through his head was overpowering. Blurred shapes filled his vision. Their figures moved so fast Seonghwa would have thought it was his imagination had there not been so many of them.

There was a dull pain in the back of his knee, like he'd been struck with more force than his body knew how to handle and gone crashing to the floor. 

This must be what Hongjoong had meant. The unruly creatures he'd mentioned with disdain. They were definitely going to be a problem.

Seonghwa pulled himself onto his hands. Through the buzz of his mind, he could distantly hear the clip of frantic hooves and high whinny that suggested Marigold had successfully escaped the clutches of these foul creatures. Good, Seonghwa thought. At least one of them did. 

Suddenly, the ground shifted. Stone rolled underneath Seonghwa's weight, knocking him sideways. The ground tilted, and Seonghwa realised a horrifying second too late that he was slipping. 

The familiar feeling of falling greeted him. Rushing air filled his ears until the swelling cry drowned out everything else. When the rope snagged, digging into his body with enough force that Seonghwa’s pain-drunk brain feared it might have broken bone and completely ruptured several organs, Seonghwa yelled out in pain. There was still thunderous noise turning in his ears, but he knew for certain that he shrieked because he bit his tongue when he swung into the cold cliffside.

Luckily, the force didn't knock Seonghwa out. His vision blanked for a few seconds, white spots dancing over his vision. The fog dissipated just before he hit the rock face a second time. 

Instinctively, Seongwha reached out to push away. His hands scraped the jagged stone, skin peeling back as Seonghwa's head slammed into the rock, albeit with less force than previously. He groaned, restraining another cry of pain. 

Seonghwa was unsure how long he was swinging before he felt the rope tug. He was confused for a moment before he was pulled up. It was enough to bring his dazed mind back into focus. Another tug. Seonghwa found the sense to grasp the rope. He rose an inch. 

It was painfully slow, but eventually Seonghwa was close enough to grasp the ledge. His hands were slick, though whether it was blood or sweat, Seonghwa could not ascertain. Still, he wrung them upon the rocks and pulled his weight. His arms shook with effort. His lungs burnt. Seonghwa thought he might be dead. Oh, wait. He already was.

“Thanks,” he panted, flopping ungracefully onto his back.

He expected Hongjoong to call back something sarcastic, maybe huff out a troglodytic grunt. Instead, he was met with silence. 

Seonghwa rolled off his back. His limbs ached, but he fought onto his knees. Panic erupted as he remembered how those strange creatures had suddenly ambushed them. Something might've happened to Hongjoong. He could be hurt. The realisation was painful.

Frantic, Seonghwa rose to his feet. He blinked at the grey floor, then looked up. What he saw was not what had once been.

Where there had been stone now stood thick marble arches that domed above. They looked pearly and smooth to the point of fakeness. Ruby chandeliers swung overhead, their light flickering. The room was dim with shadow, and it took Seonghwa a moment to recognise the large, gold thrones in front of him. He squinted as wispy smoke descended upon the dais.

Seonghwa knew this place. It was the throne room. And in front of him, emerging from the smoke, was his husband. The first one. Beside him, the second stepped forward. Then, a wife. And then another husband. Until finally, he met his fiance. The only man lucky enough to escape Seonghwa.

“...Why?” his first husband asked. 

His face was gaunt, cheeks hollowed like he'd been surviving off nothing but scraps for years. White, stringy hair was sewn into his hairline, though Seonghwa recalled it had not looked all that different in life. His eyes were so sunken and dark they looked no longer human. It was the gaze of something undead.

A fly landed on his first husband’s cheek. He scratched it, peeling away layers of green skin, revealing sharp cheekbone the colour of the quartz accents littered around the room. He wiped the flesh on his trousers.

Seongwha felt sick.

“You killed us!” his only wife shrieked. Her voice was guttural, like she was choking on something.

“Do you remember now, Seonghwa?” echoed a shrill voice so haunting that it lurked in every recess of his waking mind.

Frozen, Seonghwa watched his wife crumble to dust. Then, his first husband. And then, every husband after that until only his fiance remained. Their ashes swirled in the air, mixing into a tornado of foul remains that settled around Seonghwa, leaving him knee-deep and unable to move.

Only then did his mother emerge, a wicked smile curled upon her lips. “Do you see what you do?” 

“This…” Seonghwa's throat felt tight and knotted. It took everything to will himself to speak. “I-I didn't want to!”

His mother's voice came out seething. “Don't fool yourself, child! This —” She pointed a sharp finger to his feet. 

When Seonghwa looked down, he was met not with ash but with the rotting bodies of every person he had ever killed. There were too many to name.

The stench of decay was so revolting Seonghwa choked. 

Maggots writhed in their blank eye sockets, feasting upon the mangled scraps of flesh still clinging to bone. They're indistinguishable from one another. In life, they couldn’t have been more different. In death, they were reduced to nothing more than a decomposing corpse. The feast of parasites.

“This is who you are,” his mother hissed. The reminder was as bad as a slap. It stung just as much. “This is what you will always be. Don't forget that just because of some outlaw.”

“I didn't want this!” Seonghwa cried, angry tears flowing down his cheeks. He had no right to cry. He killed all these people. How could he cry? “You— It was you who made me this way!”

“I didn't make you anything!” she snapped. Seonghwa’s mother wasn't a tall woman by any means, but she always found a way to loom over the room and make Seonghwa feel small regardless. “If you had been worth anything in this life, you would not have amounted to such a pathetic offering!”

Seonghwa couldn't take it anymore. It felt like his mind was going to burst. His lungs felt on the verge of collapse.

“...stop it.”

“That boy cares not for you. He is hiding something. You know it too, don't you, Seonghwa? Foolish child. Come back to me. You've always been terrible at running.”

“Stop it.”

“I am the only one you can trust, Seonghwa. Our kingdom needs you. Your father and I need you. Your husband here…” Her long, pale fingers wrapped around his fiance's plump neck. Her sharp nails sank into his skin easily. She squeezed, her grasp growing tighter until blood coated her nails. Seonghwa watched in horror as blood poured from his throat. His fiance didn't even blink. “He’s been ever so patient, but I'm afraid your little stunt with that—” his mother's face screwed together in disgust “—scoundrel has frightened him. He needs your reassurance. Tell him, Seonghwa, how much you have missed him.”

Seonghwa shook his head. He wanted to look away, but something was stopping him. “Stop,” he pleaded, his voice cracking under the weight of emotion.

His fiance's mouth filled with blood, his words slurring into senseless gurgles.

“I said stop!”

The image cleaved, and in front stood a huffing Hongjoong. The ground around him was smeared with blood, and his clothes were torn and stained. Seonghwa couldn't find it within him to care. He fell forward, collapsing into Hongjoong’s embrace.

The rest of the way was somewhat of a haze. Somewhere in the back of Seonghwa's mind he was aware of the trek and his tired movements — of Hongjoong's presence close and cautious at his side, a dull, murky stone charm clamped between their adjoined palms. He was aware that at some point Hongjoong had stopped by the river to clean himself and force food into Seonghwa’s mouth. And he knows that the hike back up was treacherous. 

Though spirits do not directly interfere, they send large, jagged rocks tumbling down the ravine. Marigold, of course, had raced off at the first stone thrown. Seonghwa had no doubt she was pacing along the ledge impatiently waiting for them. He and Hongjoong, however, were forced to dance around, melding themselves to the rock and jumping out of boulderous shadow moments before impact.

Hongjoong was considerably more observant than Seonghwa. He had tried to gather himself. Truly, he had. Still, Seonghwa could not shake the image of his mother from his mind. He couldn't forget nor escape. Her haunting was binding. The memory would have left him squashed a million times over had Hongjoong not held his hand so tightly.

When night had fallen and Seonghwa was well fed (and by extension feeling considerably less out of it), Hongjoong settled beside him. Seonghwa asked him to teach him how to tie a knot. A simple, straightforward request, he had thought. Oh, how wrong and naive Seonghwa had been.

As it turned out, there were a million and one different kinds of knots. Seonghwa's brain ached trying to remember them all. Hongjoong went too fast. Seonghwa was a good learner. This was all Hongjoong’s fault.

“You don't need to remember them all.” Hongjoong chuckled, poking a finger at one of Seonghwa's puffed-out cheeks.

“Just teach me the best one then,” Seonghwa replied, swatting away Hongjoong's prodding finger. “I'll learn it.”

Hongjoong’s laughter filled an especially warm spot in Seonghwa's heart, and he couldn't help but smile as he watched Hongjoong tie each loop and twist. When Hongjoong declared Seonghwa a pro, they settled against one another in comfortable silence, hands grasped tightly together as they stared into the night.

Eventually, Hongjoong broke the silence. “Hey,” he said, giving Seonghwa's hand a firm squeeze before turning to face him. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Seonghwa nodded. He had expected this at some point. “Listen, Hongjoong, about earlier—”

“No,” Hongjoong interjected. “Not about that.”

Seonghwa frowned. He had thought Hongjoong would've asked about what had happened to him after being thrown down the side of the ravine. He hadn't once questioned it. Only whether or not he was okay. Seonghwa knew he was hiding his ditziness poorly. He blamed a concussion, but he was positive Hongjoong hadn't much believed him — at least not fully. He had presumed him to ask at some point. It puzzled Seonghwa what else there was to discuss. 

“I… I need you to promise me something.”

“Okay?” Seonghwa replied, unsure. “Hongjoong, is everything alright?”

“Yes.” Hongjoong's voice was gentle and strangely warm. “Tomorrow we should reach Death's palace. So I just want to know you'll be safe.”

Safe? Seongwha turned the word over in his head, wondering how he could ever be safe in front of the god of death. He supposed being at Hongjoong's side wasn't a bad start.

“Seonghwa, I want you to know this isn't easy for me, but—” Hongjoong sucked in a tense breath. “—but I need you to promise me that you'll stay.” 

Seonghwa nearly laughed in relief. He had been worried for a moment, but Hongjoong couldn't have asked him anything easier. Seonghwa had no plans of leaving Hongjoong's side, after all.

“Of course, I will.” Seonghwa squeezed Hongjoong's hand reassuringly. “I promise not to go anywhere.” He smiled.

Hongjoong slumped as if years of tension had been simultaneously released from his body. “Thank you.” Hongjoong’s voice was brimming with gratitude, like Seonghwa had done him a huge favour. It was so strange that he had wanted to question it. But then Seonghwa had found his eyes. They were twinkling. Whether it was appreciation or tears, Seonghwa did not dare bring it up. He simply sat beside Hongjoong, their shoulders bumping and their fingers intertwined, and allowed him to feel. Seonghwa guessed it might've been a while.

“Do you want to talk about him?” Seonghwa asked after a while.

At some point they had settled back into silence, watching the fog roll over the black sky. Hongjoong’s hand had slipped away, settling on Seonghwa's waist and pulling their bodies closer together. Tomorrow, Seonghwa would watch the moon fill and feel his soul reattach to his mortal body. But that was tomorrow. Tonight, he enjoyed being able to rest his head upon Hongjoong's shoulder. 

“Who?”

“Wooyoung.”

Hongjoong huffed as if his mere name exasperated him. “Not really. Brat gives me a headache.”

“You'll have him back tomorrow.”

“That's the plan.”

“Have you missed them? Your crew?”

“Well, yeah. But, I mean, they're family, you know. I'll never not miss them. Besides,” the hand around Seonghwa's waist tightened, “it ain't been so bad down here.”

“I'd beg to differ,” huffed Seonghwa. “Drowning and getting my leg nearly torn off wasn't the most pleasant of experiences.”

“What happened after wasn't too bad though, was it?”

“No.” Seonghwa sighed. “Not bad at all.”

“And what happened today,” Hongjoong began. “I didn't want to bring this up when you were distressed, but if you want to talk about it, I'll listen.”

Earlier, when he had thought Hongjoong was asking, Seonghwa had been about to brush it off. Now, his heart tugged. Although he wanted to be honest with Hongjoong, he knew he shouldn't. He didn't want Hongjoong to hate him.

Then again, a part of him remained doubtful. No matter how disturbing Seonghwa was, Hongjoong had never hated him. Seonghwa had been difficult and frustrating and occasionally an asshole (when Hongjoong deserved it), but he had never left him. In fact, rather than hating Seonghwa's curse, the strange pirate had envied that part of him. Taken him in all his wickedness and told him he had been perfect — perfect for his nefarious deeds, but perfect nonetheless. 

And then today, Hongjoong had expressed his feelings to Seonghwa. He likes Seonghwa. Nobody had ever actually liked Seonghwa before — not as anything more than a pretty face, anyway. If he could not try with Hongjoong, then he feared he could never try at all.

“I don't know what happened,” confessed Seonghwa. “I looked up, and you were gone.” 

“I wasn't gone,” Hongjoong said. “I was in front of you, trying to call to you, but you were frozen. I tried to move you, but I couldn't. Not without being torn to shreds by those fuckers.”

“Do you know what they were?”

“I don't,” admitted Hongjoong. “But they did something to you. I know they did. It was like you had turned to stone.” 

“I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare.” Unwelcome images flashed to the forefront of his mind. Seonghwa wished uselessly for them to stop. There was no mercy. There never was. “It wouldn't end. I wanted it to — I really wanted it to, Hongjoong — but I couldn't— She wouldn't—”

“Seonghwa, it’s okay.” Hongjoong was suddenly in front of him. His hands were firmly gripping his shoulders. Their warmth was comforting. "Breathe," Hongjoong reminded.

Seonghwa breathed. Once. Twice. Again. Again. Again. The sweat beading across his brow cooled, and the heavy drumbeat of his heart steadied. When he was ready, he continued.

“My mother was there. She was… saying all these things…” Seonghwa paused. He breathed, trying to gather his voice into something less breakable and weak. Hongjoong didn't say anything. He simply waited for Seonghwa to find his words. “She said that…” Seonghwa stopped himself. “My parents… they are— I…” Seonghwa shook his head, trying to clear it and form a single coherent thought. “I was never supposed to live.”

Hongjoong squeezed Seonghwa's shoulders. Seonghwa wasn't sure he knew he had done it. “What do you mean?” Hongjoong's voice was gravelly, words gritted between gnashing teeth. 

“My parents… They believed the gods were the solution to their every problem. That they could give them whatever they wanted should they want for it hard enough — should they be willing to sacrifice for it.”

“What was it they wanted?”

“Life.” Seonghwa looked away shamefully. “Infinite life.”

Hongjoong paled. “You mean they're immortals?”

“In a way. There was a catch.” Seonghwa focused on the feeling of the stone charm rolling between his fingers. He took a deep breath. “The sacrifice they made… it had not been enough. Their love had been lacking, and the gods felt it an insufficient price.”

“What was the sacrifice?” prompted Hongjoong gently. He had calmed significantly and was now rubbing circles into Seonghwa’s shoulders. 

“Me,” croaked Seonghwa. “They sacrificed me. That is why I know the gods do not exist. That is not a god. Asking for a child sacrifice… cursing them — making them a monster — that is evil.”

Against his cheek, Hongjoong's hand was like silk. Priceless. “Hey, you're not a monster,” Hongjoong said, raising Seonghwa's face and wiping away the tears trailing down. Seonghwa stared at him. Hongjoong's eyes were twinkling again. Seonghwa couldn't understand why.

“I know,” Seonghwa whispered, his voice knotted and tight. “I know. I just— It's what they all say, and sometimes I can't think of reasons why they're wrong.”

Because Seonghwa had killed. He had caused misery and pain. And he never intended to stop. How could he? Seonghwa could recall all the bodies his nightmares had piled before him with regret, but that did not change the fact that he had done it. That he would continue to do it. 

It wasn't a fate he enjoyed, but it was the one he took to survive. From his parents. From those who had sealed Seonghwa's secret with an oath of death. They were all complicit in the makings of a monster. They were all architects of Seonghwa's cell. 

He was kept there by pure greed. They had more years than one person could ask for, and yet they continued to demand more. More time. More life. Youth and health that Seonghwa could not promise but was required to take nonetheless. It would never end. Not peacefully. Not while Seonghwa still breathed.

Hongjoong pressed his lips to Seonghwa’s tear-stained cheeks. When he pulled back, they glistened with the salt of Seonghwa's sorrow. “These tears prove that you're more human than they could ever dream of being,” Hongjoong whispered, pulling Seonghwa into his chest.

Seonghwa's hand wrapped around Hongjoong's sturdy body, clawing into his shirt. Seonghwa tucked his face into his shoulder and tried to remember how to breathe. It was hard against Hongjoong. He smelt so good that Seonghwa just wanted to keep inhaling. Like the sea and the endless breeze. 

It was strange. Hongjoong hadn't been at sea for a long time, yet it followed him. His home followed him. Just as Seonghwa’s did.

“I am cursed. For every year I take, my parents shall gain. Plants. Animals. Humans. Time works the same.” Seonghwa pulled away just enough to look at Hongjoong. It took all the courage he had. “I can never leave, Hongjoong. They will never let me. They want me in a birdcage, out of sight but under their thumb. If they cannot have that, they will kill me. I cannot escape.”

Hongjoong rubbed his cheek, then the plume under his eyes, and then he stared. His lip curled. “Then it is a good thing I am a pirate,” he said. “I am rather renowned for thievery.” 

Seonghwa's lip wobbled. Hongjoong winked. Seonghwa laughed. It was ugly. Loud and wheezing, but free. So, so free. It seemed to strengthen whatever resolve Hongjoong had made. 

“I will take you, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong’s eyes bore into him. Steely and unwaveringly determined. Seonghwa wondered how he could offer him such earnestness so freely. “We will leave that place behind. Your curse… after tomorrow it will not bind you. Your life is not theirs. I will steal it back for you, I promise.”

Seonghwa shook his head. Hongjoong did not let go. He didn't want to cry again, but Hongjoong made it so hard. “You don't need to do that for me.”

“No,” Hongjoong said. “I do. There is so much this world owes you. There is not much it will willingly give. Let me take it for you. I will give you it all.”

Hongjoong rested his hand atop where Seonghwa was fiddling with the charm. Their fingers easily slot together, squashing the charm between their palms.

Seonghwa nodded toward it. “Does this mean we have to sleep holding hands?” he asked, cheeks slightly reddened. 

“Naturally.”

And it was natural. Being at Hongjoong's side was innate.

Chapter Text

The sheets beside Seonghwa were cold. He had a throbbing migraine. And everything around him was gone.

Hastily, Seonghwa pulled to his feet. He stumbled into a tree, having risen too fast and been struck with a terrible bout of nausea. The bark peeled away as he pushed back and stomped to camp. 

He blinked and rubbed his eyes again. Still, there was nothing. No Hongjoong. No Marigold. No anything. Some bark must have gotten in his eyes because they felt terribly hot.

Hongjoong had left him. No. Hongjoong had made Seonghwa promise to stay. He would be back eventually. Only, when Seonghwa had made that promise, he hadn't realised Hongjoong meant to make him stay behind. He would never have agreed otherwise. Seonghwa felt fooled. Like Hongjoong had tricked him somehow.

Seonghwa couldn't accept this. Hongjoong meant to go to Death and rescue Wooyoung by himself. Perhaps he thought Seonghwa was safer here. Perhaps he was. It didn't matter. Seonghwa couldn't let Hongjoong face this alone. He wouldn't.

All that remained of their camp was the bed he and Hongjoong had shared and one single, small sack. Seonghwa stormed forward and ripped it open. He rummaged through it. Clothes. Clothes. Map. Clothes— wait.

Seongwha tugged out the map. Since finding the artefact, Hongjoong had long since abandoned it. The map was useless when they had been lost anyway. He must've stuffed it in Seonghwa’s bag and forgotten about it.

Seonghwa unfurled the map in his hands. Then he glared at it for ten minutes trying to figure out where he was. The palace was in the north. But without the sun, Seonghwa struggled to see how he could find his way.

Seonghwa didn't want to think about Hongjoong — he was still angry with him — but he had to. He tried to recall what Hongjoong had told him. There were compasses. No, Seonghwa didn't have one of them. Stars. He remembered Hongjoong had missed those. Seonghwa missed them too. The sky here was so bleak. He could not use stars, and with the mist so thick, there was no shadow, so that left… Moss!

Seonghwa rushed to the trees. Yes. Moss. How could he forget? Moss grew on the north side of a tree. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered Hongjoong's awfully long rant on how unreliable a method it was but decided to ignore it. This was the best lead he had at finding Hongjoong.

The moss was initially difficult to identify. It blended into the trunk. Its vibrant green had been stripped, leaving a pale, brittle shell encasing the wood. It was like an artist had forgotten to colour their painting.

Seonghwa trailed his hand down the dry surface. If the moss grew on this side of the trunk, then north was— A whinny echoed, and Seonghwa snapped his head up immediately. His lips stretched. They already knew who it was.

A large undead horse cantered toward him. Marigold.

Seonghwa surged forward. A heavy weight lifted from his chest, and he laughed. Airy. Disbelieving. But most of all, relieved. He stroked Marigold’s muzzle and then used a pile of rocks to hoist himself onto her back. It was difficult without Hongjoong’s additional help, but he managed. 

Seonghwa had never ridden on his own before, but he'd seen Hongjoong guide Marigold often enough that he had confidence he could imitate his movements in a somewhat decent manner. He steered Marigold north, and she shot off. Seonghwa yelped in surprise. Without Hongjoong to steady his back, he had nearly flown off her rear. Luckily, he had enough survival instinct to cling on for dear life at the last second and save himself the broken bones.

They spent the better half of the day riding. By the time the sky had begun to darken, Seonghwa feared he might have been completely wrong. Surely, by now they should've arrived. Hongjoong had said it hadn't been far at all. Slowly, doubt corroded his confidence, diminishing his determination until Seonghwa contemplated giving up.

‘No,’ he told himself. He refused to let Hongjoong face Death alone.

Seonghwa gripped the reins and rode on. A few minutes later, the dark silhouette of a castle formed in the mist.

Seonghwa couldn't believe it at first. He was certain it was a trick of the mind. He had the charm hung on his neck, so it wasn't another monster fucking with his head. Still, Seonghwa struggled to comprehend fully until he was at the gates.

They loomed overhead. Even atop Marigold, Seonghwa had to look up to find the pointed top. Seonghwa reached out, grasping the dark wrought iron in his hand. He pushed. It didn't budge. Then he pulled, and Seonghwa was certain it was locked. He huffed.

Seonghwa tugged Marigold back, her hooves scraping over the dull stone. The height was undoubtedly intimidating, but if it came down to it, he could probably make the climb. Probably.

Thankfully, it never came to that, as a small horned creature appeared on the other side of the gate. Their body formed out of the fog, wisps slipping off their whiskery face as they stepped out of the dark and into the yellow glow of lantern light.

“Oh!” the creature exclaimed, their piercing green eyes igniting in instant delight. “It's you!” The creature blinked vertically at Seonghwa. Clearly, they were expecting some kind of response.

Seongwha didn't know what to say. He was beyond confused. Did this creature think he was someone else? There was no reason they should've looked so elated. He settled for a nod.

The creature smiled, showcasing a lovely set of sharp yellow teeth. “Come, come!” The creature pulled back the gate in one swift motion. “They’ve been waiting ever so patiently for you.”

Despite his confusion, Seonghwa took the opportunity eagerly (truthfully, he hadn't been too fond of the whole ‘scaling the gate’ idea,) but when Marigold began marching forward, the creature stopped them.

“Ah, sorry, but the horse stays.” 

Seonghwa frowned. “Why?” he asked. “She's harmless.”

“Only invited guests are permitted inside.”

“Can't you invite her?”

The creature sighed as if it was a question he'd already answered one too many times. “I'm afraid not.”

That really didn't sit well with Seonghwa. He didn't want to leave Marigold. Not at all. He didn't want either of them to be left alone. He stared at his hands, unmoving, willing a solution to etch itself into his skin.

“Really, you must come inside,” the creature implored after a few seconds.

Seonghwa clenched his fists. He really didn't like this. 

“Give me a moment,” he told the creature before hopping off Marigold.

Seonghwa turned toward her, his stomach turning with a feeling that was much too similar to goodbye. When he touched Marigold's muzzle, Seonghwa wanted to tell her he would be back soon —- that she need not worry. He would bring Hongjoong and Wooyoung, and they would all leave together. He couldn't. 

“Thank you,” Seongwha said, “for all your help.” He withdrew a sugar cube from his pocket and held it out toward Marigold. Seonghwa watched her happily devour it with a heavy heart. He ran his hand through her mangled hair one last time before stepping away, unsure whether he would ever step forward again. He took a breath and clenched his fist. This was not goodbye, he told himself. 

Seonghwa tried to smile. It was weak and uncertain, just like his heart. “Let's find each other again,” he said, hoping his eyes conveyed his emotions. Marigold whinnied softly. She blinked at Seonghwa for a few seconds. Even without words, Seonghwa understood what she was saying. Bring me sugar cubes.

Finally, Marigold turned and galloped into the night. Seonghwa watched until he could no longer hear her hooves. He wiped a tear from his cheek and turned toward the palace. A place he wasn't so sure he would ever return from.

There was little Seonghwa could see in the fog. It seemed to thicken the deeper they got, the smoke intensifying until it stung his nostrils. Seonghwa wondered what it was. It was so familiar and yet decidedly not. Perhaps it was the natural odour of the Underworld, or maybe even the smell of a god. Whatever it was, Seonghwa found it unpleasant enough to tug his shirt over his nose.

When he looked curiously toward the creature, they merely padded along unfazed. They must've been used to it. Seonghwa couldn't imagine a fate worse than working in Death's palace. Perhaps living in it.

“You'll get used to the smell,” the creature said unexpectedly. Seonghwa didn't quite agree, but he took the opportunity for conversation, hoping he might glean some information on where Hongjoong or Wooyoung were. First, though, were pleasantries.

“What is your name?” Seonghwa asked, his voice muffled by his shirt. 

“You may call me imp two million three hundred forty four thousand five hundred and—”

Seonghwa stopped listening. “Er, how about a nickname? Two is pretty cute, huh?”

“I've never had a nickname before,” Two exclaimed, a glimmer of excitement evident in their tone. “Yes, I quite like that. You may call me Two.”

Seonghwa nodded, relieved. “You said you were an imp. Does that mean you can shapeshift?” he asked, hoping this was a light enough topic of conversation.

“Yes.” Two glanced back with a smile. “I can mould myself however I want.”

“And you chose that?” Seongwha blurted before realising just how rude he sounded. When Two's smile slipped, he panicked. “Er, uh, I mean surely looking so… handsome is rather annoying for you? So much attention.”

“Indeed.” Two nodded solemnly. “But it is the price we pay for beauty. I envy you, Seonghwa. It must be so nice to live without the constant flattery." Seonghwa scowled. He did not take kindly to the insinuation but swallowed his anger.

“How do you know my name?”

“Because you were invited, of course,” answered Two as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Right.” Seonghwa bit his lip when he stumbled over a rock. “Did anyone else get an invite?”

“Lots of folk! They are all so excited for tonight.”

“Tonight?” 

“Oh, I shouldn't spoil anything. You will see soon enough.”

Seonghwa tried to dig deeper, but every time he got close, Two would redirect the conversation. It was incredibly frustrating, and before Seonghwa knew it, he was inside the palace.

It was exceptionally dark. Every surface was painted the deepest shade of black. It was as if Seonghwa were staring into nothing at all. Had there not been candles floating overhead, Seonghwa would've fallen several times already.

Other than Two, it was desolate inside. When Seonghwa had asked where everyone was, Two had simply told him they were ‘preparing’ and then redirected the discussion yet again. 

Two led Seonghwa down hallway after hallway. They all looked the same. Black. There were no windows, only arches that looked out into the fog and brought in the burning smell of smoke. When Two opened a door, Seonghwa eagerly jumped through it. 

“This is your room,” Two said. “They will be here soon to dress you, so I wouldn't get too comfortable.”

Seonghwa regarded Two with a confused frown. “Dress me?” he questioned.

“Of course! You do not expect to go out like that, do you?” 

Seonghwa felt his nails sinking into his palm and bit his tongue. He bid Two goodbye and happily shut the door, thankful to finally be alone and without the ever-present scent of smoke that still lingered on his tongue.

The room was relatively large and spacious. Seonghwa was blessed with a single, small window and a splattering of the darkest shade of blue he had ever seen. Other than that, everything was black. Even the spines of books lined in the bookshelf were black. Seonghwa ambled over, wondering if the pages were too.

Seonghwa grabbed one. Death's greatest victories. And opened to the middle. The pages were so white and crisp that Seonghwa was certain the book had never been opened, never mind read. Not that Seonghwa found that difficult to believe. Reading about a god claiming credit for battles they had not fought in hardly seemed the engaging read Death no doubt thought it was.

Seonghwa put the book back and pulled another. It followed in the same vein. As did the next. And the one after. And the one after that. Seonghwa sighed. He was about to slump down in a chair and stare at the ceiling for the foreseeable future when something caught his eye. There was a book on the table in the seating area. A brown book. A very rare find indeed.

Tales from under the world and beyond.

Well, Death wasn't in the title. That seemed promising.

He took a seat by the window, flicked to the first page, and began to read.

At some point, the fog had shifted, and moonlight poured into the room. Even in the Underworld, it managed to illuminate the room in a warm glow. It was full tonight. Seonghwa started a new chapter.

There are two ways to enter the Underworld, it began, die or die attached to a tether.

Seonghwa frowned. That's not what he had been told.

A tether is something born with a pre-existing tie to the Underworld. This can be an artefact, an opening between realms, a god or, in rare cases, a person. It preserves one's body with the promise of returning to the living. This will be maintained until the tether is broken. Attaching yourself to a tether is the only way to get out of the Underworld. 

Seongwha wondered if that was what he was — a tether. It made sense. He certainly had a connection with the Underworld, albeit not one he particularly enjoyed. He tried to remember what Hongjoong had told him all those weeks ago. Seonghwa drew a blank, but it was no fault of his memory. It was Hongjoong. He hadn't explained a thing.

Seongwha felt stupid. How could he have spent so much time with Hongjoong and never asked? He tried to straighten his thoughts. Hongjoong turned the hourglass. Hongjoong kissed his cheek. They started falling. Seonghwa woke up in the Underworld.

Was Seonghwa the tether, or was it the hourglass? Hongjoong had said the hourglass was both the reason he was dead and their way out. Wait. The reason he was dead. Not Hongjoong. The kiss would make sense then. His kiss had killed Hongjoong. The hourglass had killed him. But then… Why had Hongjoong killed him?

When they had first talked, Hongjoong had told him he had simply wanted to hold his hand. Had he had the hourglass then? Was it hidden in his pocket? Why did Hongjoong want him dead? Perhaps Hongjoong could not use the hourglass. Then, that begged the question, why had he chosen Seonghwa?

The door slammed open. Seonghwa jumped to his feet. 

“Ah ha!” exclaimed a short boy with wild, unruly hair. “I knew I couldn't be wrong a ninth time,” he muttered, plucking a bone from the nest atop his head and taking a long few strides toward Seonghwa. The door swung shut behind him.

Seonghwa took a cautious step back, his fingers carefully pulling his dagger from where he had strapped it to his thigh. “Who are you?” he demanded, hoping he sounded more fierce than Seonghwa thought he did. And by that he meant not at all.

The strange boy bit his lip as if holding back a particularly difficult laugh. He swallowed it eventually, though it was not without a couple irritating snickers.

Seonghwa bit his cheek, anger flaring in his gut. No respect and crazy. It was a bad combination. Seonghwa thought for a second. When the realisation found him, he wanted to slap his forehead for not thinking of it sooner. The only way to combat crazy was with crazy.

Seongwha picked up an onyx vase and launched it across the room. It flew past the boy's head and shattered against the door. A million tiny shards clattered to the floor. The boy didn't flinch, but judging by his wide eyes, Seonghwa knew he had been surprised.

For the second time, Seonghwa demanded, “Who are you?”

The boy looked from Seonghwa to the shards sparkling like black glitter upon the floor and then back again. “Oh,” he said, a slow smirk working its way upon his lips. “I see now why Captain likes you.”

Seonghwa's heart stuttered. “Captain? You mean Hongjoong?”

The boy tilted his head, as if puzzled by the fact Seonghwa even had to ask. “Who else could I possibly mean?” 

Oh, I don't know, maybe one of the hundred other dead pirate captains? Or perhaps not even a sea captain at all? He could have just as easily meant a captain of the guard. Before Seonghwa could say any of this, however, the boy spoke. 

“Oh, it is such a shame.” The boy sighed rather dramatically. “I knew the fates couldn't be wrong. Poor Captain.”

“What are you saying?” Seonghwa scowled. “Is Hongjoong in trouble? I came to find him.”

“Well, I could've told you that.” The boy looked like he wanted to laugh again but wisely withheld it once he spotted Seongwha’s piercing glare. “Er, no. Hongjoong isn't in trouble.”

“Then, do you know where he is?”

“Unfortunately I'm not allowed to see him yet, but if I had to guess, Death has him occupied.”

The boy rounded the room, slowly drawing closer to Seonghwa. Seonghwa clutched this dagger and watched him like a hawk. “What do you mean?” 

Seonghwa blinked, and the boy was in front of him, inspecting the book he had dropped on the floor.

“Oh, good read,” he said, flicking through the pages. “I like chapter eighteen on sacrificial brides. Very realistic.”

Seongwha frowned. “What do you—”

Suddenly, the book was in Seonghwa's free hand. When Seonghwa looked back at the boy, he was pushing open the window. Immediately, smoke flooded the room.

“Well, I only came to have a look before the big day. So, uh, good luck and thanks.”

“Thanks?”

“Yeah, I won't get to say it later, but— oh shit, I need to go. I'll see you later,” he said, disappearing out the window.

Seonghwa didn’t even have time to panic before a dozen spirits poured into the room. They had him swarmed in a second, ushering him toward the bathroom in the corner. Seonghwa tried to resist, but it was useless. He gave up easily.

About forty minutes later, Seonghwa was released from their torment and guided downstairs. They had dressed him in a long, black gown that Seonghwa had to hike up as he walked. The bodice was laced with dark silver embroidery and stitched with sparkling gems. It hugged his torso perfectly and flowed into a billowing skirt. It looked like smoke. Seonghwa felt like smoke, fading slowly into the darkness. It didn't help that they had thrown a large, black veil over his face. When Seonghwa protested, the spirits had merely insisted harder and hooked it onto the jewels pinning his hair up.

Seonghwa felt anxious. They had taken his dagger — the one Hongjoong had given him — now the best Seonghwa had for a weapon was the pointed heel of his shoes. He doubted that would do much damage against angry spirits or, should things somehow go horrendously wrong, a god. 

Still, he allowed them to usher him into a large hall. Garlands were strung across the room, the pillars holding up a balcony decorated almost as garishly. For the most part, the awful decoration blocked his view of the hall beyond, but every now and then he caught a glimpse of a large gold throne. It was hard to miss because it was so offensively ugly. 

He was guided around the room until he was close enough to the throne to hear low chatter.

“You can take him.” Seonghwa overheard as the spirits fluttered around him, applying last-minute touch-ups to his makeup and fixing his gown. The voice wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be to command his attention. It was chilling and awful, and Seonghwa hated their every word. “That was the deal, no? A bride for a bride.”

Seonghwa froze. He frowned. There was a hand on his back. He turned sharply to look behind him. The hand pushed, and Seonghwa was pulled unwillingly from the darkness.

“But, I didn't—”

Seonghwa stumbled forward. His dress caught under his feet, and Seonghwa fell to his knees. Silence echoed. Only the sound of his breath as he desperately tried to gather himself resounded.

“Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa’s head snapped up. His veil, trapped under his hand, was torn from his head. In front of him, Hongjoong stared with unadulterated horror. 

Oh no. That was not the reaction he was hoping for.

Seonghwa pushed his messy hair off his face and scrambled to sit up. “Hongjoong, I—”

“What are you doing here?” interrupted Hongjoong. “You promised… You promised me you would stay.” His voice was tense and gravelly. He sounded angry. No. Seonghwa watched Hongjoong take in his appearance. His expression had shifted from horror, evolving into something deeper and more desperate. 

Fear. 

But what was there, Seonghwa wondered, for a Pirate King to fear?

“Don’t look so surprised, Captain. You brought him here.”

Finally, Seonghwa looked toward the owner of that awfully grating voice. Sat atop the throne was a figure clouded in shadow. They were indescribable. Not because they were especially gorgeous or anything, but the figure simply did not look like anything. It was a figure and nothing more.

At their side, Seonghwa noticed a familiar face. It was that crazy boy from earlier. Seonghwa might've felt glad he wasn't floundering in the palace gardens, a mess of broken bones, had he not been so confused. The boy's hair had been tamed considerably, though it still had that effortless mess that matched his innately cheeky snark, and he was dressed similarly to Seonghwa with a black gown encasing his body.

Sensing Seonghwa’s stare, the boy turned. Seonghwa expected a smirk or a wink, really anything to give away familiarity. He was met with nothing. His expression was blank. His eyes were dead. He looked dead.

Suddenly, the figure atop the throne rose to their feet. They seemed to grow impossibly larger, both in height and aura. They turned, and it took Seonghwa a horrifying few seconds to realise they were staring at him. All of them. Because it wasn't just the crazy boy, the shadow, and Hongjoong, but also the balconies of creatures peering down at him. 

The figure strode right up to Seonghwa. They towered over him and offered a skeletal hand, more mist than solid flesh. Seonghwa took it sceptically and allowed them to help steady him back onto his feet. 

The figure didn't seem to have a face, but Seonghwa was certain they were staring at him. A skeletal thumb rubbed over his knuckles. “My beautiful, beautiful bride.” 

Immediately, Seonghwa snatched his hand back. He hugged it to his chest and tried to grapple with the weight of their words.

Bride. 

That creature's bride. 

Seonghwa’s chest was pounding so hard it hurt to breathe.

He was a bride. Again. 

Seonghwa glanced at Hongjoong. He wasn't looking at him. He was glaring up at that horrid creature. There was so much hate and loathing behind those eyes. A history. One that Seonghwa’s brain was painfully piecing together.

There was a sharp ache in his heart. It told of disbelief and dying hope. Crushed dreams and squandered trust. A connection broken by lies. Because Seonghwa understood now. He knew what he was to Hongjoong.

Seonghwa wasn’t just the tether; he was a bargain. He was the price Hongjoong was to pay for Wooyoung's freedom. 

“Two birds with one stone,” he echoed, recalling Hongjoong's cunning proposal all those weeks ago. Hongjoong had spoken it with a confidence Seonghwa could not imitate. All he knew was of a low, haunting breath whispered into air that his lungs no longer welcomed. In the light of the truth, Seonghwa could not breathe.

“He is not your bride!” snarled Hongjoong, glowering up at the figure. 

No. Not figure. Seonghwa knew who that was. That was Death. And the crazy boy… that was Wooyoung.

Seonghwa blinked, and suddenly he stood upon the dais. The golden throne had remoulded itself into a grand arch. From the ground, an altar rose. Behind it, a spirit formed. A man dressed in long, black robes.

“Oh, don't be like this, Captain.” Death’s voice broke Seonghwa from his confused daze. He was close. Too close. He stood directly in front of Seonghwa, close enough that they might clasp hands should they wish (which Seonghwa most certainly did not). Beside Death, Wooyoung stared blankly out into the hall. “Just take the brat.” Death snapped their fingers, and Wooyoung’s rigid posture instantly slackened, his soulless gaze filling with colour. In Death’s hand, a long scroll materialised. “Our deal is binding,” they said, waving the paper. “You signed right here.” They pointed to a messy inked scrawl at the bottom of the page. Seonghwa felt his heart drop.

The paper was snatched from Death’s grasp in a second. Wooyoung tore through it without hesitation. 

The rip was echoing. 

“Oops,” exclaimed Wooyoung, allowing the shredded paper to flutter from his hands. Before it could meet the floor, it shrivelled to dust.

A collective gasp rang out from the balcony, and the ground shook with the force of Death’s anger. Shadow encompassed the room, black writhing mist swelling until Seonghwa struggled to see through it. Vaguely, he could make out Wooyoung’s stumbling motions as he ran from Death, desperate to escape their encroaching magic. 

“You foolish mortal,” growled Death. “You just broke the contract.”

“Uh, yeah.” Wooyoung’s voice came out muffled, as if he was lost somewhere deep within the shadow.

“I’m under no oath to protect you anymore.” A laugh resounded. Booming and maniacal. Seonghwa felt its thrum deep within his bones. Every other sound faded into nothing. Seonghwa heard only Death’s crazed laughter. It lasted too long, and yet dread gripped Seonghwa when it ended. “What an unexpected wedding gift.”

There was noise. Rumbling and thudding and the clang of metal. Then the shadow moved at once, condensing into a single point before striking a panicked figure hard and fast. It was Wooyoung. Hongjoong’s voice boomed, but it was too late. Wooyoung was ensnared by shadow.

He struggled relentlessly, but the shadow was merciless. Its grasp grew tighter and tighter until Wooyoung was suffocated by dark, misty chains so binding they closed over his mouth, cutting off a dying scream. 

Hongjoong surged forward, sword drawn. At the same time, Death moved toward Wooyoung. Though they had no face, Seonghwa could feel the smugness of triumph radiating from Death’s easy movements.

Hongjoong made it halfway before an arrow lodged itself in his knee and he crumbled to the floor. Seonghwa gasped, his heart clenching, and looked up. A spirit upon the balcony slowly lowered their bow. Seonghwa gritted his teeth, anger and fury violently churning inside him. 

Spirits emerged from everywhere. The floor. The walls. They even phased through the balcony. But, no matter from where they came, they all had one target. Hongjoong.

While Hongjoong struggled back to his feet, they surrounded him. There was a bloodied arrow in his hand. When had he pulled that out? Seonghwa clutched his aching chest. He felt so heavy and anxious. His heart was beating in his throat.

One of the spirits behind Hongjoong lunged forward, their sharp claws extended for his neck. Hongjoong spun on his heel and stabbed his bloody arrow through their temple. His sword swung up, slicing the next spirit in half. He spun to deflect three arrows and stabbed his sword through several more wispy bodies. He heaved, catching his breath for a second before a dozen new enemies charged for him.

Panic rose within Seonghwa and then intensified tenfold when he inhaled the revolting scent of rot. It was pungent and so, so, so horrifically strong. 

He tore his eyes from Hongjoong only to find Death was upon Wooyoung. He was covered head to toe in shadow. Only his eyes remained visible, but even then, Seonghwa struggled to see them. They had gone so dull they blended in with Death’s fog terrifyingly well. Wait. No, that wasn't quite right. Seonghwa squinted. Wooyoung’s eyes were covered by the mist. There was a thin layer coated over the top, slowly draining away his life.

Death was stealing his soul.

In a moment of pure panic, Seonghwa ripped his heel from his foot and launched it at Death’s large, ugly body. It was a rather hard target to miss, but Seonghwa still managed to shock himself by hitting Death in the head. 

A seething hiss emanated from their body as Death turned to face him. Seonghwa glanced at Wooyoung. The shadows hadn't receded, but Seonghwa could see the light had returned to Wooyoung’s eyes. A tiny relieved breath escaped him before he caught sight of Death looming over him. 

Seonghwa pulled himself straight and gathered every bit of courage left within him. “Let him go or I’ll… I’ll run away!”

“Ha! You think you could run from me?” Death turned from Wooyoung, and Seonghwa saw the shadows recede back over his cheekbones and brow. 

An idea sprang into his head. Maybe the way to break Death’s magic was to distract him. To break his focus and force his shadows to be dispelled.

“Little bride, just remember whose realm you roam in. I am shadow. I am earth. I am everything, and you cannot escape me.”

Seonghwa didn’t give any prior warning; he simply hiked up his dress, kicked off his heel, and ran. Seonghwa didn’t know where he was going. He just knew he had to run. Far enough to free Wooyoung. Long enough that Hongjoong could reach him.

From the corner of his eye, Seonghwa saw a Wooyoung-shaped object fly through the air. A boom echoed, and the ground shook from the staggering impact of the collision. Death had flung Wooyoung away, tossing him into a wall on the other side of the large hall. Seonghwa desperately wanted to look — to at least glimpse — but he did not dare.

Distracted by his concern for Wooyoung, Seonghwa did not notice Death forming in front of him until it was too late. Their shadows reached up from the ground and grabbed his ankles, sending Seonghwa tumbling to the floor. 

His vision darkened as shadow wrapped around his legs and hoisted him up into the air. He went higher and higher until he was face to face (probably) with Death. 

“You are mine.” Death’s voice was a command, thunderous and demanding his submission. 

Seonghwa tried to shut his eyes but found that he couldn’t. His panic surged when the world seemed to drain of colour. His nostrils filled with the acrid scent of decomposition. This was what Death was doing to Wooyoung. Now, he was trying to claim Seonghwa’s soul.

Seonghwa knew he had to break Death’s focus, and that he had to do it quickly. He didn’t know how fast Death’s magic worked. He just knew that he didn't want to end up as Wooyoung had been. Lifeless and numb.

Even now, Seonghwa could feel his life force leaving him. It was difficult to think. His head felt so heavy and tired. Seonghwa wanted to stop trying. He couldn't. He knew he couldn't, but that didn't make the want any more bearable. 

A rope of shadow slipped up Seonghwa’s neck, jostling one of the pins tangled in his hair. It stabbed Seonghwa hard enough to give him clarity for an idea.

Blindly, Seonghwa reached into his knotted hair. He tore out a bejewelled pin and several clumps of hair. Before Death could react, he stabbed the pointed end of the pin into his own side. Instantly, the trance was broken, and for the fraction of a second it took for Death to recover, Seonghwa swiped at the shadows, managing to disperse them long enough to wiggle free. He stepped out of Death’s hold and immediately started falling. He closed his arms around his head and braced for impact. 

Death reached out for Seonghwa. He felt a sharp pain and then numbness. Seonghwa thudded to the floor a moment later.

He must've blacked out because, when he came to, his arm was hooked around Wooyoung’s neck. There was a blinding white light in the corner of his eye, but Seonghwa chose to turn away from that. One problem at a time. Like, why did his leg feel like it was on fire?

His ears were full of noise. Anxious words muttered on a repetitive loop. Over and over and over. “I'm sorry,” Wooyoung said like a solemn mantra. “I'm so sorry.”

Seonghwa didn't understand why he was so distraught. He frowned. Then, when he spied the blood trickling from Wooyoung's brow, he frowned a little harder. He watched it stream down the side of his face and mix with the tears falling from his cheeks. Seonghwa really didn't understand.

“It’s all my fault. I always screw everything up.”

Before Seonghwa could ask Wooyoung why he was so upset, he spotted Hongjoong running toward them. Well, running as best he could with a limp. He was covered in thick, drying blood. It was everywhere, stained into his skin and crusted in thick clumps in his hair. His eyes roamed Hongjoong’s body, his breath catching when he saw an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. 

Hongjoong's hardened face fell the moment he took in Seonghwa. “Seonghwa, your— your foot…” Hongjoong stuttered in disbelief. Seonghwa scowled, confused, and looked down.

Oh. That must be why Seonghwa wanted to cry so much.

He had no foot.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Wooyoung choked out. “I tried— I couldn’t get to him fast enough.”

Hongjoong shook his head and stepped closer to Wooyoung, resting a gentle hand upon his shoulder. “Don’t waste your time apologising, Wooyoung. This isn't your fault.” 

Wooyoung looked like he was about to protest when Hongjoong drew the hourglass from his pocket. Instantly, Wooyoung lost his words. 

Wooyoung gaped wordlessly for a few seconds, trying to remember how to work his mouth. Eventually, he blurted, “The chromer? Captain, you can’t be—”

“There is no time, Wooyoung. You know your duty, as I do mine.” Hongjoong pressed the hourglass— chromer— into Wooyoung's free hand. “Take it.”

Wooyoung bit his lip, but it wasn't enough. His tears fell like heavy rainfall. He sobbed and cried for things that confused Seonghwa. Wooyoung stepped away, and Seonghwa slumped against the pillar next to him, his body burning and his breath shallow.

Seonghwa swallowed thickly. His voice came out heavy nonetheless. “Hongjoong?” he called.

Hongjoong shifted, his eyes catching Seonghwa's instantly. He stared at him, taking in the curve of Hongjoong’s eye and the sharp point of his cheek. There was so much colour to his skin, so much left unsaid behind his eyes. Seonghwa wished for eternity. For time — just a little — just enough to remember that there had once been something beautiful blooming between them.

There was so much pain in Seonghwa's chest that he could hardly breathe. Perhaps in a different place, in another time, they could've been so much more than this. Reduced to their hurt and betrayal. Left with nothing but regret. Maybe they could've lasted. After all, it had not been hell that had torn them apart, but Hongjoong's own deceit. 

Hongjoong's thumb brushed Seonghwa’s cheek. He wanted to nuzzle closer. To take a breath and let Hongjoong soothe his pain. Seonghwa resisted.

“Seonghwa, there is nothing I could say to erase what I have done to you. I am sorry, but I fear it is not enough. If we had the time, I’d have dedicated my life to righting every wrong I have done by you.” Hongjoong's hand dropped until he was cupping Seonghwa's face, staring at him so delicately with his sparkling eyes. He made Seongwha want to cry. “I am sorry I am not the man you deserve.”

Seongwha sucked in a shaky breath. He grabbed Hongjoong's hand and clutched it tightly. “Hongjoong, tell me you're not so stupid as to do what I think you're about to do.”

Hongjoong's jaw tensed, and Seonghwa sucked back a sob. “The three of us were never meant to make it home. Someone has to stay, and I can’t let that be you.”

“You are a foolish man.”

“I know.” Hongjoong smiled weakly. “You tell me often.”

Seonghwa hated him. He wanted to kiss him. Fuck, feelings were so confusing.

Seonghwa tugged Hongjoong forward and kissed him hard. He wished he had the luxury of making it soft and delicate and all the things that Hongjoong was, but time was short. And this was enough. To taste the salt on Hongjoong's tongue and remember that it had been real. For a time, they had been real. It had to be enough.

Hongjoong pulled away much too soon and turned back to Wooyoung, who was furiously wiping his eyes with the bottom of his ruined gown. “Take him home for me, Wooyoung.” He ruffled Wooyoung's hair and ran off.

Seonghwa watched as Hongjoong ran straight toward the blinding lights. They were some kind of light bombs. He squinted past the column Wooyoung had hidden them behind. Death looked disorientated, like they were unsure which way was up and which way was down. They were blinding Death, Seonghwa realised.

Hongjoong charged them, slicing through spirits as they blocked his path. Moving, Seonghwa could see just how much the arrow in Hongjoong's shoulder pained him. His movements were slightly more delayed. He was sluggish on the uptake and didn't leave enough strength for a few of his blows. The extra time spent dealing with spirits he should've finished in a swing or two had slowed him considerably.

By the time Hongjoong reached Death, they were coming out of their daze, the last light having died a few moments ago. That didn't deter Hongjoong. Despite his bad knee, Hongjoong leapt into action. He sliced Death's heels, his sword cutting clean through. Mist hissed from the wound as Death doubled over. Hongjoong wasted no time and struck Death’s head, dragging his blade across their neck before jabbing his sword into their skull.

Black smoke steamed from Death, quickly clouding the room in a thick smog Seonghwa could not see past. It was scarily similar to what had happened with Wooyoung earlier. He couldn't see Hongjoong, but he could hear him. He was still fighting.

Seonghwa's chest felt tight, his panic eating away at his patience. His words came out as a rushed slur. He had to repeat himself. “Wooyoung, we need to help him.” 

“We–We can’t,” he sobbed.

Seonghwa shook his head. It could’ve been the adrenaline or the intense sense of urgency he felt at the prospect of losing Hongjoong, but, even with one less foot, Seonghwa was going to help Hongjoong. “Yes, we can. Wooyoung, look at me.” 

When Wooyoung didn't comply, Seonghwa grabbed his chin and turned his head, forcing him to meet his eyes. Wooyoung sniffled and released a pitiful whimper, but he did not sob. “Hongjoong may be an idiot, but we are not leaving him,” Seonghwa told him sternly.

“No, you don’t understand.” Wooyoung tried to shake himself out of Seonghwa's hold. It did not work. “I've seen the fates. They said one of us had to stay. That we couldn't all escape, not as we once were. I thought they meant you. Not—” He broke off into a harrowing sob. It was guttural and wet, and Seonghwa let go of Wooyoung's face. “Fuck, this is all your fault! Why did Hongjoong have to fall in love with you? Why? I don't understand at all!” 

Wooyoung fell into Seonghwa's chest, instantly soaking his bodice with his tears and other fluids that Seonghwa did not want to think about on him. Their bodies, tied together by sorrow, crumbled to the floor. Wooyoung's nails clawed into Seonghwa’s biceps, but the pain blended into everything else. The emotional torment. The burning. The throbbing. It had all melted into one horrifying concoction after a while.

“I hate you,” Wooyoung cried. “I hate him. I-I-I…” He hiccupped, sniffled, then pulled himself off Seonghwa. Wooyoung found his eyes, and Seonghwa could not believe how young he looked. He was just a kid. “I can’t leave him.”

Seonghwa smiled. “Then don’t,” he said, carefully flattening Wooyoung's dishevelled hair. “Don’t let yourself be bound by what the fates have told you. Hongjoong needs you. Let that be enough.”

Wooyoung nodded. He wiped his eyes and climbed to his feet. Then, he remembered Seonghwa was down one foot and crouched to wrap his arm around him and help Seonghwa up.

They moved under the overhang of the balcony, darting from column to column and finding shadows to submerge in. Every so often, Seonghwa would glance toward Hongjoong. It was still painfully dark, but after the initial strike, Death's mist had lightened enough for Seonghwa to catch Hongjoong's figure. Despite his pain, he fought tirelessly. Seonghwa’s heart ached for him.

Eventually, Wooyoung stopped them. They were somewhere off to the right of Hongjoong and had a clear view of his back. Death faced them, but Seonghwa knew they could not see them. Death's every focus was upon Hongjoong. Unless they did something truly stupid like scream about how ugly Death looked, they would remain unseen.

“What exactly is your plan here, Captain? You cannot fight me forever.”

Hongjoong laughed, his voice rumbling and breathless. Seongwha could only imagine it was accompanied by that effortlessly cocky grin he seemed so fond of. “I don't need forever,” he said, striking Death across the chest, cutting a clean line through. The mist cleaved easily, revealing pale bone that cracked and splintered and then disappeared back under a layer of shadow.

“Prideful, prudent mortal. You know nothing of fear.” Fog clouded them from view for a few moments. When it cleared, Death appeared good as new, their wounds switched back together in a mere second. “You will not defeat me.”

Wooyoung shrugged a quiver of arrows they’d stolen from a writhing spirit a few paces back onto his shoulder. His hands stalled on the leather strap as a rattling boom resounded. Wooyoung shook his head and quickly took the bow Seonghwa was patiently holding out for him. Seonghwa noted how Wooyoung’s hands quivered before clutching tightly around the wood.

“I don't think this will work,” Wooyoung confessed. His voice was shaky, wrecked by nerves and throttled with fear. A little desperately, Wooyoung gestured to where thick, oozing blood was pooling around Seonghwa’s feet. “I mean, you can barely walk.” 

A clamorous boom resounded. Wooyoung jumped. Seonghwa’s eyes caught a tattered figure shooting across the room, smashing into a column several feet away. It was Hongjoong. He hit the middle, stone crumbling to dust and clouding his falling body as he plummeted to the floor with a heavy thud. Instantly, the stone cracked and plunged after him, encircling Hongjoong in a ring of precariously placed boulders. 

Seonghwa sucked in a breath and turned back to Wooyoung. “It has to.”

In the next few minutes, things could go horribly wrong. They were risking everything Hongjoong had fought for by going back to him. But they had to. Seonghwa could not go back to a world where he had left Hongjoong behind. He knew Wooyoung couldn’t either. Hongjoong was wrong. There was time. Seonghwa, as Hongjoong had done, would make time.

From the shadows, Seonghwa stepped in front of the column. Wooyoung slinked back and disappeared behind him. 

“Hey, ugly!” yelled Seonghwa, taking one of his hands from where he was grasping onto the stone and wildly waving it around. He felt stupid, but it worked well enough. Death turned to him.

“Ugly?” Death's voice roared in Seonghwa’s ears. Shadow curled around his legs, and in an instant Seonghwa was before Death. His heart slowed as he forced steady breaths through his mouth.

Eyes bore down at him from every direction. Despite the battle, the balcony was still filled with creatures. They sat on the edge of their seats, eagerly peering down at him. Anger flared within Seonghwa’s gut.

This was still a show to them.

Before him, a cover of shadow fell over Death. Mist swirled, dark plumes of smoke filling the air. It all vanished in an instant. In Death’s place, a man appeared. He was objectively handsome, with a long pointed nose and high cheekbones. Dark, flowing hair cascaded down his back, settling below his shoulders. He looked remarkably similar to Hongjoong.

The man grinned, showcasing a perfect set of sharp, pointed teeth.

Or maybe not.

“Oh, I think you'll find me far from ugly, my bride,” said the man. No. Death. 

“No matter what form you take, you will remain as revolting as you were born,” Seonghwa spat.

Death was not deterred. The shadows around Seonghwa’s legs released and slithered back to Death. Seonghwa wobbled and fell to his knees with a hiss. 

A piercing pain racked through his body. It was excruciating. Seonghwa didn't want to scream. He bit his lip. He cried out weakly nonetheless.

“Come to me now, Seonghwa.” A wooden crutch appeared before Seonghwa’s hand. 

Resisting the urge to bat it away in rage, Seonghwa looked up. Death was still parading around in skin that did not belong to him, stealing smiles from faces he did not own. His eyes were as black as the abyss. He held nothing behind his gaze. No emotion. No love. He was an empty shell, filled with shadow.

“Willingly give yourself to me, and I'll consider letting your friends go,” Death said. Though he appeared a man, his voice still resounded in his ears with the power of a god. They rang for seconds after each sentence. “Try to run from me again…” Death glanced across the room. Seonghwa’s body filled with frigid dread. 

On the opposite end of the hall, Wooyoung had just reached Hongjoong. He weaved between the boulders, using his quick, lithe figure to his advantage. Wooyoung dipped in and emerged with Hongjoong on his shoulder not a second later. He was barely awake, blinking languidly, unable to raise his head from where it hung toward the ground.

When Seonghwa forced his eyes back upon Death, he was still grinning.

“I'll break their minds with nightmares so profound they’ll beg for peace in my abyss. Their souls will be mine.”

Seonghwa balled his hands, his nails scraping against the floor.

“You belong to me, Seonghwa. Even your parents knew that. Your life is death. You do not belong up there.” 

Seonghwa couldn’t bear to stare at Death’s smiling face any longer. It was mocking. He knew he had already won. He was simply dragging this out for the sake of the show. Death hadn’t invited everyone here for a wedding. He had invited them to flaunt his power — his victory. 

That was how gods were. They were prideful and vain, and they believed themselves invincible. Their minds changed quicker than the tide. If there was one thing Seonghwa was certain of, it was that Death had never intended for any of them to leave the Underworld. Not when Wooyoung’s very being here had put his pride on the line.

“You are mine. Your parents gave you to the gods, and then your pirate traded you away. Don't you see? You never belonged, and you never will.”

Seonghwa gritted his teeth and grabbed the crutch. Struggling to his feet, Seonghwa hissed, “You're wrong.”

“Am I? Or are you unwilling to admit it?” Death’s face was infuriatingly smug. Seonghwa would’ve liked nothing more than to punch him. “You would be so much happier here. At my side, the realm would be yours. Your power would be unfathomable. Walk to me, my bride. You know this is your only choice.”

Seonghwa steadied himself on the crutch and glanced across the room. Wooyoung and Hongjoong were long gone. He eased his tense jaw and prised his nails from the flesh of his palm. Blood trickled, pooling before dripping off his fingertips. Something in his hand shifted. 

“You don’t understand,” Seonghwa told him. “I am not going back into a cage. That is where I do not belong.”

Immediately, the room darkened.

“So be it then.”

Anguished screams filled Seonghwa’s head. Dropping the crutch, Seonghwa clutched his skull. He was instantly crushed by the weight of their pain, crumbling onto the ground into a pathetic heap. He gasped and squeezed harder and harder. ‘Stop!’ he wanted to cry. He couldn’t even move his lips. 

Distantly, Seonghwa could hear Death’s joyous laughter booming. Obnoxious. Rotten. All the things that filled him with unbridled rage.

It was difficult for his anger to even simmer. The agony was so overwhelming he struggled to feel anything else. Seonghwa was huffing and heaving, but he didn’t feel like he was truly breathing. It was unlike sinking beneath the water, trying and failing to gasp for air. There was a weight upon him, crushing and crushing. It wouldn't stop. Not until Seonghwa was dust. Endless misery. Peerless torment. It was a paralysing nightmare.

Seonghwa struggled to look through his watery eyes. He wanted to blink, but he couldn’t force himself to. He was stuck. A tool to Death’s entertainment. 

As if to make his suffering just that much more unbearable, Seonghwa heard a harrowing voice. It was Hongjoong. He was screaming. Seonghwa tried to search for him, but he could see so little. His gaze was blurred, and he couldn’t even move his head. It was useless. 

The sound was a cruel reminder. This was not a fate Seonghwa bore alone. He had forced this upon Hongjoong and Wooyoung too.

“Oh, they were so close, foolish mortals,” Death mocked, chuckling. Seonghwa blinked. “When will they understand that they can never overcome Death.” The hall howled in laughter. It sounded the same as screams.

Seonghwa’s eyes found Hongjoong’s figure first. He was pressed against the ground, clawing his head, breathless and unmoving. He was not far. Wooyoung had done well. Forcing his eyes away from Hongjoong, Seonghwa found Wooyoung at his side. He looked equally tortured, his eyes bloodshot and streaming, his mouth agape and pleading. Seonghwa’s heart splintered.

Tightening his hand around the bloodied object in his palm, Seonghwa clenched his teeth and stretched out a trembling arm. He bit his lip and pulled. Pain flared, stabbing and aching and throbbing. He was burning, his body set aflame and his mind flooded with pounding cries. His agonised whines were drowned out under the laughter of the crowd.

No one paid him mind. No one questioned Death’s power. Death was all-seeing. Death was invincible. Death had already turned his back to entertain the audience. That was the thing about gods. They could not escape their hubris. They could not see Seonghwa as a threat.

A pathetic mortal, held by none, belonging nowhere. That was what they saw in Seonghwa. And that was all they would ever see.

Seonghwa grabbed Wooyoung first. His arm fell over his body, the bloodied chromer stabbing into his side. Wooyoung did not register the pain. He continued screaming regardless, his voice hoarse and torn by grief. 

Though Seonghwa felt like he’d just been dragged over flaming glass, he made one final stretch. He reached for Hongjoong. Seonghwa’s arm strained and cried for him to stop. He didn’t. He continued stretching until his shaking hand wrapped around Hongjoong’s arm. His blood seeped into the fabric of his blouse. Hongjoong did not care. He did not acknowledge his surroundings, and Seonghwa didn’t have the time to wait for him to. A moment after their skin touched, the world faded into black.

Chapter Text

Seonghwa woke up on his bedroom floor. Alone. His silk pyjamas had magically reformed themselves, gliding over his skin as he rose to his feet. His head ached, but other than that, he felt fine. He jumped a few times, just to assure himself that his foot wasn’t made of shadow, and looked down at the rest of his body. There was something heavy in his palm. An hourglass. 

No.

This was the chromer. This was Hongjoong’s.

Hongjoong.

Seonghwa’s eyes darted around the room so quickly he became dizzy and had to steady himself upon one of his bedposts. He sucked in a deep breath and checked again, but Hongjoong was nowhere in sight. His heart filled with lead.

This was where they had died. This was where Hongjoong should've been. Unless… Unless Seonghwa had failed to get to him in time. He dreaded to think, but maybe the hourglass had run out of time. Maybe Seonghwa truly had left Hongjoong behind.

Seonghwa hiccuped and wiped at his eyes. He struggled to pull in a breath. His throat was too tight.

A squawk resounded. Seonghwa blinked up in disbelief. 

His balcony doors were wide open, his curtains fluttering with the wind, and in the centre hopped a very familiar bird. Hongjoong’s bird. 

Seonghwa approached slowly. Though it pained him, he didn't want to risk scaring away the bird. Especially not when he noticed the pale slip of paper tied around its foot.

The sun was slowly rising into the sky, its light almost blinding as Seonghwa ventured outside. He crouched, and the bird hopped closer. Once Seonghwa had unhooked the note, the bird squawked, spread its colourful wings, and took flight. 

Eagerly, Seonghwa unrolled the paper. On it, in the messiest scrawl Seonghwa had ever seen, were two simple words.

I’m waiting.

A grin split his face, stretching so wide his cheeks hurt and his eyes watered. Seonghwa didn’t even dress himself before hatching a plan. He ran to the edge of his balcony and leaned over. He had to think of a way out, and if Hongjoong could climb into his room in the pitch black, Seonghwa could certainly get out.

The distance was far, much further than Seonghwa’s weak limbs could carry him, but maybe Seonghwa didn't have to carry himself. He ran to his bed and started stripping every sheet, tying them in the way he'd practised with Hongjoong. When he'd done, he tore open his wardrobe and dragged out every sheet he saw. Once successfully ransacked, he rushed across his room, collecting a couple more before tearing down a few of his curtains. Who needed so many anyway? Seonghwa certainly didn't anymore.

Happy with his makeshift rope, Seonghwa tied it to his balcony and flung it over the edge. He knew it would be a few metres short, so he'd made sure to position himself over a lush, green bush. Seonghwa hoped it might break some of his fall. Because there would be a fall. Of that, Seonghwa had no doubt.

Seonghwa took a breath and prepared himself. There was nothing here Seonghwa wanted to keep. Death had been right about one thing. Seonghwa did not belong here. His life was meant for the sea.

Wrapping his hands around the sheets, Seonghwa slowly lowered himself off the balcony. The fabric went taut in his hands, and Seonghwa quickly began shuffling himself down. It was daylight, but from the low-set sun, Seonghwa could tell it was still early in the morning. The palace would still be asleep. No one would be looking too closely at the prince's tower. Not until it would be too late. 

By the time Seonghwa reached the end of his rope, his arms ached. He was still high enough from the ground for the fall to look daunting, so he gave himself a few seconds. He started to count to three but let go at two.

The bush rustled as it caught Seonghwa's weight, kindly stabbing him with two dozen sticks and brambles. Still, it was the kinder alternative to falling on hard dirt. Seonghwa had had enough of that.

Groaning, Seonghwa rolled out of the shrub. Two things occurred to him as he crawled to his feet. 1) He hadn't put any shoes on, and now his feet were bleeding, and 2) the grass had not died. Neither had the bush.

Seonghwa almost didn't want to believe it could be true — to hope and be proven wrong. He plucked a few strands of grass and clutched them in his hand as he ran away.

Had Seonghwa been stronger, he might've tried climbing over the palace wall. Instead, he settled for the gates. By the time he got there, the guards were busy swapping over shifts. Seonghwa hadn't planned it like this, but he couldn't deny the perfect timing. 

Moving quickly, Seonghwa stuck himself to the wall. He watched carefully, waiting until they had their backs turned and attention divided before slipping through the gates. He ran straight for the woods, hiding in the shade of trees. When he was far enough, he stopped and caught his breath. 

Seonghwa looked at his hand curiously. The grass was still green. He eyed a nearby tree. For a few moments, Seonghwa debated it. He was both fearful and excited. His hope was beginning to grow. It was a strange feeling. Hope. It was like his insides were on fire and he was running out of breath, and yet it felt nice. Hope felt nice.

Screwing his eyes closed, Seonghwa stuck out his hand and settled it on the tree trunk. He'd never touched a living tree before. It was rough and so much stronger than those in the Underworld. Much less dusty too.

Seonghwa sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. It was alive. The grass was alive. The tree was alive. Everything was alive.

Seonghwa cupped his mouth and cried. He didn't want to hope so much. Things could still go wrong. But maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe there was room for hope — maybe there was room for love and joy and freedom too. Maybe a little left for Hongjoong. Maybe there were a lot of maybes and what-ifs and chances, but Seonghwa was free to take them. 

Oh, that felt nice to say.

Seonghwa was free.

Seonghwa took off running, and he didn't stop until he found the harbour. He didn't care that people stared at him scandalised or that he had several pieces of sharp stone and glass lodged in his feet or even that he was covered in mud. He didn't care. He was free, and he chose to run toward Hongjoong.

Seonghwa searched the harbour high and low, but he never did find Hongjoong. None of the vessels anchored there looked like they might belong to him either. His only other brilliant idea was to leap onto the beach and start running.

The sand stuck to his bloody feet, sinking between his toes, half burying his feet with every step he took. Seonghwa loved it. Later, when he was less drunk on adrenaline and endorphins, he was sure he would curse the stuff. But right now, it was heaven. 

He ran for what felt like hours, but eventually, he found a familiar silhouette in the distance. They were watching the lapping waves, haloed in sunlight. Wind ruffled their hair, but they didn't reach up to fix it. They simply let it happen.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa called breathlessly, letting the wind carry his voice down the beach.

Hongjoong turned with a beaming grin. In his hands, he held a marigold. “You found me,” he said. 

“You,” heaved Seonghwa, coming to a stop in front of him. “Why weren't you at the harbour?”

Hongjoong chuckled, smoothing his palm around Seonghwa's cheek. His warmth was just as Seonghwa remembered. He leaned into it, allowing Hongjoong to raise his face. “I'm a pirate,” he explained. “I'm not exactly welcomed there.”

“Well, why did you leave me in the palace?”

Hongjoong shook his head fondly. Raising his other hand, Hongjoong tucked the marigold into Seonghwa’s windswept hair. “I apologise. I had a promise to keep.”

To stop himself from crying, Seonghwa flung his arms around Hongjoong's shoulders and kissed him. Unlike last time, Seonghwa made sure to take his time. It was soft and slow and felt like a promise. Come hell or high water, they were together. To him, together meant eternity. Seonghwa didn't need a god for that; all he needed was Hongjoong.

“When we get aboard, don't tell anyone I cried, or I'll poison your food,” warned Wooyoung, a vicious glower painted upon his face. He looked so cute that Seonghwa wanted to laugh.

“He won't do that,” Hongjoong assured.

“I will,” Wooyoung mouthed behind Hongjoong’s back, motioning his thumb across his neck.