Chapter Text
–« ☼ »–
On the night before his twenty-first birthday, Jeongguk runs away.
It's an easy trek by now, one he's been through many times before, too. Enough times to know exactly how to angle himself behind the hedges so that the guards don't spot him, or how to walk through the flagstones instead of the grass, since the dry leaves make too much noise and the gardeners don't come until dusk.
He knows enough, so it's almost like he's operating on muscle memory.
Step here. Duck. Watch out for the guard. Don't think about Youngho. Run. Don't think about Youngho. Keep running.
But his vision is hazy when he sprints through the maze, rushing to the door he knows leads to the outsides of the palace, his thoughts clouded by the memory playing over and over again, almost relentlessly. The picture of Youngho is still fresh in his mind, falling to the ground with a loud thump like his legs had given out and could no longer hold him up, the wrinkles on the sleeves of Jeongguk's shirt, where his knuckles had gone white from gripping onto them so tight.
He still feels the turmoil coursing through him, his mind desperately trying to catch up to everything.
It was supposed to be a normal night; the night before a birthday, almost like a tradition for them at this point.
As a prince, there were many things he did for the sake of customs, but this one was Jeongguk's favorite by miles: a small dinner with his best friend, trying to alleviate the upcoming weeks with a bottle of wine. Coronations were always a sensitive topic amongst kingdoms, and as the first son after a long lineage of daughters, Jeongguk's did not look to be any different.
And at first, it had felt exactly like that.
Youngho had sipped from Jeongguk's cup like he always did, he'd even winced through the taste as usual. He wasn't the biggest fan of wine, but it was always amusing to Jeongguk seeing him struggle through his duties, and what kind of best friend would Jeongguk be if he didn't relish in his wine-tasting misery? So as usual, Jeongguk had laughed, he'd said some stupid thing followed with a punch to his shoulder–and he'd been happy.
His favorite birthday, with his favorite person in that palace. In the world, even. Jeongguk was happy, for the first time in a long time.
He was finally happy again.
Until Youngho's eyes had gone wide, blood splashing out of his lips when he coughed, only followed by more blood, and more, and more. Until his shirt was tainted red, and Jeongguk had reached out for him with wide eyes, his body numb. Until Youngho held tightly onto him before he hit the ground, choking on his own blood, looking back at Jeongguk with equally lost eyes.
Poison, he'd muttered through another cough, and Jeongguk had shaken his head.
No, it couldn't be. This shouldn't be happening–that wine was meant for him.
But it's still fresh in his mind, Youngho nodding at him, pulling his arm to drive Jeongguk's focus away from the blood. The blood. So much blood.
"No," Jeongguk remembers saying, hands hovering over his best friend's chest, not knowing what to do but unable to stay still. "You're not dying. Get up."
But Youngho had smiled, a small grin tugging at the corners of his blood-stained lips, and Jeongguk still sees it, he still feels the way the entire world seemed to go quiet.
No.
"You have to go," Youngho had muttered, the grip on his shirt loosening.
Youngho didn't deserve this–he was innocent, he was good.
He should have died instead.
"No, I–I can't leave you, I won’t–"
Jeongguk had shaken his head, holding onto him tighter despite knowing that he was right.
If something happens to me, Youngho had told him time and time again, you run as far away from here as you can.
They had a plan. They've had a plan for years. In case something went wrong, but Jeongguk never thought something like this possible, he never believed Youngho when he'd warned him.
"Jeongguk," he'd called, his voice small, lifeless. "Please."
And Jeongguk vaguely remembers nodding, leaning down to press his lips against Youngho's forehead before setting him gently on the ground. But he remembers, like it's printed on his memory, the smile on his best friend's face as his eyes averted from Jeongguk’s own.
He remembers the moment in which life had seemed to leave him slowly, like it wasn’t even painful at all.
He remembers looking back, the door halfway opened as his friend laid on the carpet, right in the middle of his room. He remembers taking a step back to him, hesitating.
But then, he had heard the guards coming, the sound of their footsteps getting closer, and Jeongguk knew that it was his last chance to leave unnoticed, so he’d dried his tears with the back of his hands and ran the opposite way.
He reaches the door behind the maze, almost crashing into the hedge when he does so.
Vaguely, he hears the rustling the dried leaves make when he steps on them, but he hopes the guards will brush it off as the wind’s doing. Jeongguk doesn’t know, he doesn’t care. There’s a brisk of crisp air sending shivers down his spine when he feels it against his nape, and he gives himself a moment to catch his breath, lifting the door ever so slowly, careful to keep the old wood from creaking.
Everything is either too loud, or it is too quiet; in the dead silence of the night, the only other sound being the rustle of the wind–or the blaring beat of his heart, resonating against his chest, almost as if it’s threatening to come out.
With a jump, he lets himself fall into the darkness of the pit, wincing at the loud noise the door makes when it falls closed after him. But Jeongguk pays it no mind, he'll be long gone by the time anyone reaches the tunnel either way, and after all, no one in the palace knew the maze as well as he does.
They'll never find him in time.
Jeongguk ducks down as soon as he lands on the ground, rushing to find the bag he knows Youngho hid at the bottom of the pit. He can't see anything, patting the dirt around him desperately until his hand closes around a string of fabric, and he tugs it closer to him. Inside, he takes out what feels like a flashlight, and he lets out a sigh of relief when he confirms that it is, turning it on.
And then the world halts again, and Jeongguk freezes.
Inside the satchel, he finds a compass. Though at first, Jeongguk almost doesn't recognize it, but it dawns on him when he reaches out for it, his hand freezing in the air.
Inside the satchel sits the compass pocket watch he had seen hanging from Youngho's neck through all these years, and though it's ridiculous, it takes him a second to recognize it, even if it's impossible to miss: the golden case shining under the flashlight's beam, cold against his fingers when he takes it in his hands, the small SYH engraved at the very bottom.
He doesn't know why it's there, in his hands, hidden in a tunnel and not around Youngho's neck, where it should be, where it has been, all these years. But his mind doesn't have the energy to question it, so he flicks it open instead, and it's the picture placed on the inside of the lid that has Jeongguk's heart stopping in his chest–and he freezes again, his blood running cold.
It's them, smiling at the camera like silly teenagers that didn't have a thing to worry about. And they didn't, at the time. He remembers being sixteen, attending his fourth sister's wedding, and sneaking out right after the toast. He remembers dragging Youngho to the maze, his camera safely tucked into the pocket of his jeans, cheeks tainted a wine red.
He lets his tears fall down, streaming down his cheeks as his eyes drift to the smiling boy beside him, freshly turned eighteen, and it hurts Jeongguk the most, seeing him like that. Because Youngho had one of those smiles that lit up his entire face, his eyes squinting, happiness all over him, like he'd never felt more alive than at the very moment he was smiling, like all he had was time–more moments like those ones, an entire future ahead of him.
A life.
He bites back the hurt threatening to come out, pressing the compass against his chest, his heart, and the sob he lets out is silent, eyes closing when he falls to his knees.
It's not fair, Jeongguk screams in his head. It should have been me. It's not fair.
The flashlight falls to the ground, but Jeongguk pays it no mind, curling into himself as he cries. Just for a second, for a couple of them, trembling as he lets it out.
Keep going, the voice in his mind tells him, you're not safe yet.
Not a day went by where Youngho didn't have this on him. Jeongguk doesn't understand why it's here, why he took it off in the first place, but he feels another wave coming, so he forces himself to sit back up. He secures the compass around his neck, leaning down to grab the flashlight again, and as he throws the bag over his shoulder, he resumes his way through the tunnels.
Though they aren't as familiar to him as the maze was, Jeongguk doesn't struggle much, but he still keeps his steps light just in case. After all, back in the days where Youngho and he used to sneak out of the palace every night, he remembers there being a guard on the other side of the tunnels, so he takes his time when he reaches the exit, pushing the door open painstakingly slow.
He feels sticky, dried tears down his cheeks, the remains of smeared blood all over his hands. His heart is still beating halfway out of his chest when Jeongguk peeks his head out, leaning his body against the door to avoid being seen, and holds the relieved sigh when he doesn't spot any guards. Distantly, he thinks it should be worrying how easily it could be to break into the palace, how truly unprotected they seemed to be after all. If sneaking out could be this simple, Jeongguk doesn’t want to think about how many times they could have been in danger.
However, though debatable, he decides to blame it on his good luck. Just for this time. He shuts the light off, checking his surroundings one last time. He takes one look at the compass hanging from his neck, glistening when the moonlight strikes it and nods once before taking off into the forest.
Jeongguk runs.
The satchel bangs against his waist as he sprints through the road leading into the forest, and Jeongguk moves the strap until it's crossing over his chest, holding the bag up in his arms to stifle the sound it makes. It's uncomfortable to run like that, but he figures it's better than getting caught.
Jeongguk looks over his shoulder, trying to check if he's being followed. He knows he's being entirely too loud, his breath coming out in blaring puffs of air, striking in the quiet of the night, nothing compared to the hooting of an owl he hears in the distance, but he still checks just in case. The items inside the satchel crash with every step, and Jeongguk wonders what Youngho could have put in there. He’d forgotten to check, earlier at the tunnel, his mind having gone blank at the sight of the compass.
In his haste, he misses over a branch, his left foot getting caught under it and making him fall down to the ground with a grunt. Jeongguk takes a breath, the palm of his hand settling over his blearing heartbeat, so loud he can hardly hear anything else.
In the sky, hidden between the towering trees, the moon stares back at him.
A dry laugh leaves his lips, and it almost sounds like a snort. Jeongguk can't believe he's here. None of this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to go to bed tonight feeling dizzy and light, drunk on wine and his stomach full. He wasn't supposed to be running through the forest to save his life. He wasn't supposed to have his best friend's blood all over his hands.
He takes a deep breath as another tear falls down his face, his skin growing numb.
With another breath, Jeongguk stands up, securing the bag against his side. He takes a look back, at the lights emanating from the palace. His home looks almost peaceful from where he stands, unlike the chaos that had been happening past the walls.
The preparations for his upcoming coronation had been maddening to the point where Jeongguk had decided to hole himself up in his room a whole week in advance. He had even ordered for his food to be delivered to him. In a few hours, his parents were to return home, presumably for his son’s birthday, but Jeongguk knew better. There was a ball to be had in his name. After all, it wasn't every day that he turned old enough to be king–his twentieth-first birthday. He wasn't the least excited about it, but Youngho had been thrilled.
“My little Jeonggukie,” he had said, ruffling Jeongguk’s black locks as the smile on his face grew immensely, “To be king.”
Jeongguk's schedule was packed with balls and dinners and rehearsals for the next however many days ahead. But at the time, he'd thought everything was going to be fine. As long as he had Youngho next to him, he felt like he could have faced every single life-changing moment in his life all at once.
Even the long-awaited coronation of the future king.
He was already exhausted in advance, so when his uncle had suggested the idea to take a break and unwind with his friend, Jeongguk had seized the opportunity. After all, the palace had been surprisingly quiet regardless of the fuzz, so it was the perfect chance to rest.
In hindsight, Jeongguk should have seen it coming.
He turns his back to the palace, taking another breath as he tries to slow down his heart. Tears have stopped falling down now, but he still feels the knot in his throat, threatening to free the sob he's been pushing down if he so much opens his mouth.
It's pointless now. No matter how much he'd like to go back and change the past, he can't. All he can do is follow the words Youngho had left behind, so he takes another breath, and starts running.
There's only one place Youngho had ever mentioned when talking about their escape plan. He had told him, all those years ago, about a secret place deep within the heart of the forest, somewhere far past the Royal Grounds, his safe place. Jeongguk had only ever visited a couple of times, but the place had stuck with him to this day.
A small little paradise. Somewhere no one else would ever find.
But Jeongguk had never considered the fact that he might be doing this alone. In his head, whenever they went through the plan, Youngho was always right next to him. In his head, they were going to be a team until their last dying breath.
He runs, and runs, and runs some more.
Until there's nowhere else to go. Until he runs past the ground limits, crashing into branches as he does so. Regardless, Jeongguk doesn’t stop, rushing past the willow until he's running into what feels like water, only stopping when he feels it around his calves.
The splashing stops, and Jeongguk pants heavily as he looks around himself.
Jeongguk's mind is hazy, but it's here, he's sure of it. The pond Youngho had brought him to when they were barely even teens. All he knows is that it's dark, and he's alone, and the pond thrives under the moon in a way that should be calming, but his heart still feels like it will race out of his chest.
There's still blood in his hands.
He falls down, the water moves when he tries to wash the blood off, his hands glistening under the moonlight.
"Who the hell are you?"
Jeongguk stands up to the sound of a voice, checking his surroundings. He squints his eyes through the dark, and it's rather useless, but he thinks he spots something. A shadow, standing under the willow tree by the pond. Whoever–or whatever –they are, they don't look big. That's not what has Jeongguk's blood freezing in his chest. No, it's the eyes, there's something in them, almost as if they're shining in the dark of the night.
He blinks, shaking his head rushedly. He must be seeing things, there's no way–
Jeongguk takes a step forward, "I've come–"
It moves. Slowly, its head craning to the side, the eyes still glowing. Jeongguk has a fleeting thought that maybe he'll be fine; Youngho wouldn't have sent him into danger, but it isn't long until something is striking him. Just a hard, single strike that spreads through his chest, his heart, and it has him falling back down on hard rocks, wincing loudly into the night.
The moon is still there, white and round in all her glory, as it watches over him from the sky. Jeongguk has the urge to laugh, even as he's fading away. Youngho used to say that no matter where he was, the moon would always protect him. But Jeongguk's mind is still racing a thousand miles per second, and though his heart aches, it refuses to slow down. He was wrong–he's not safe. Not back at the palace, and definitely not here. The moon can't protect him now, because nothing can anymore.
He's alone.
Youngho is dead and nowhere is safe.
As the night sky fades to black, the knot in his mind finally untangles, and Jeongguk's last moment of consciousness comes in the faint face of a man. The world behind him is blurry, darkening by the second, but Jeongguk sees him clear as day: delicate features, thick brows knitted together tightly in a frown, pale curls glowing underneath the moonlight, and eyes of a crystal blue.
–« ☾ »–
At first, Jeongguk thinks he's dead.
He's in the pond, just by the water where he remembers dozing off the night before, only now, under the blinding sunlight, he can see it all so clearly. The weeping willow right next to the pond, lily pads floating on the surface all over, colorful lilies adorning the corners of the pond with hues of oranges and pinks.
It’s almost peaceful, everything about this place, so it's only natural to assume he's in heaven.
He's dead, whatever creature he'd ran into last night must have killed him. He felt the strike, right over his heart–and the blue eyes. He remembers those.
Jeongguk leans back into the grass, feeling it dig on the skin over his elbows, his shoes are still in the water, though he doesn’t find it in himself to mind. The grass itches in the slightest bit, but it's rather nice. It's quiet here, so quiet he's convinced himself he was alone until something blurs past him, and he turns just in time to see a boy materialize right before him. He stills, his heart stopping in his chest as he takes a good look at his face.
In the next second, it’s like his whole world stops.
Because there, standing on top of a rock by the pond, is Youngho.
Jeongguk’s brain can’t comprehend, not even when he notices that he looks a couple of years younger, or when he hears the laugh he lets out. But it fits, if this was his version of paradise, it makes sense that it's Jeongguk's, too.
He stands, taking a step closer to him, calling out for him, but Youngho doesn't seem to notice him.
"Hey!" Jeongguk calls, waving a hand at him. But nothing changes, Youngho doesn't turn to him, and Jeongguk can't reach him. “Youngho!”
He tries to walk into the pond, but a strong breeze stops him. A leaf flies right into his face, and Jeongguk shakes his head on instinct, his steps faltering. He turns around, following the trail of the wind, and he stops.
It's him, resting his back against the willow's trunk, eyes glued on Youngho. Much like Youngho, he looks a lot younger, and Jeongguk has to blink a few times to recognize the teenage version of himself sitting right before his eyes.
He's not dead.
Youngho laughs again, raising a finger that he points at younger-Jeongguk’sface.
It’s… a dream?
But it’s more than that, though it doesn’t click until Youngho speaks again, and Jeongguk hears his voice resonating around the place, tearing a piece of his heart with every word.
“Promise you won’t burn the kingdom down?” Youngho is asking, skipping from one rock to another. He almost loses his balance, but manages to catch himself quickly by lifting his arms.
By the tree, younger-Jeongguk shrugs cheekily. “I promise to try.”
It's a memory.
He remembers now, this day. After his first sister's wedding, his parents had been introducing him to suitors left and right, but Jeongguk, even at the age of fourteen-years-old, had had no interest in any kind of princesses or queens.
The sun has him squinting through the light when he looks back at Youngho, who's snorting as he skips to another stone, completely missing a step and stumbling into the water with a loud splash.
“Help me, your highness!” Youngho cries out dramatically, splashing the water around him even though it reaches his hips. Jeongguk chuckles when Youngho’s arms stop, falling into the water as he quirks a brow up, “I’m drowning!”
Younger-Jeongguk sits up, leaning his elbows on his knees, cheek resting on his palm.
“Beats me.”
It's almost amusing, the way Youngho’s arms stop moving immediately, and he stands up with full offense adorning his expression. The water drips at his sides, making his clothes stick to his skin.
This isn't real, Jeongguk has to remind himself. He’s gone.
“Wow. You really would rather just let me die than get off your ass to help?”
Younger-Jeongguk shrugs, but Jeongguk catches the grin he bites down.
Youngho snorts. “You’d die for me any day Jeon Jeongguk, you’re not fooling anybody.”
“Yup,” younger-Jeongguk tells him with a nod, his voice without a hint of hesitation. “Wasn’t trying to.”
“Nice,” he says, lifting a thumb up in dream-Jeongguk’s way.
His heart aches, though it’s nothing compared to the way something squeezes around it when Youngho’s face breaks into a smile, and he speaks his next words, and the pond beams around them.
“I’d die for you too, you know?”
I know, Jeongguk wants to tell him. I'm sorry, I know.
He feels a tear fall down his face, but Jeongguk makes no move to stop it.
In front of him, Youngho skips out of the pond with big steps, rushing to where the other version of himself sits.
And he remembers how this goes, how this day ended. Jeongguk remembers his best friend running to him, the clear mischief in his eyes when he tried everything in his power to throw Jeongguk in the pond. Jeongguk had resisted, but Youngho was older and stronger than him, but though he still ended up soaked to his very core, there was nothing but happiness in this place.
–« ☼ »–
When the sunlight hits him, Jeongguk wakes with a jolt.
His head pounds when he sits up, squinting through the look he takes around himself. He's still in the pond, somehow, though this time, waking up in it is a lot less peaceful.
But it has nothing to do with the place. No, the pond still looks like it was taken straight out of cloud nine. Much like in the dream, the weeping willow towers above the pond, with purple irises surrounding it.
He wonders if he's dreaming again, or perhaps this time, he really is dead now.
Growing up, he had had a different version of what the afterlife would look like. Granted, he definitely would never have expected it to have pink and purple flowers in it, but Jeongguk is way far from the point of questioning things anymore.
After all, in less than a day, he'd been the target of a failed assassination, lost his best friend, had to flee the only home he's ever known, ended up somewhere in a lost, forgotten forest, and got some kind of magic bullet shot to his heart.
The dull pain throbbing through his head was called for, he knows, but he thinks waking up could have hurt a little less, all things considered.
Jeongguk panics, suddenly remembering why he's here and the last thing he was doing–or well, the last thing that was done to him–before everything went black. He pats his chest hastily, a relieved sigh leaving him when he feels the watch still hanging from his neck.
"Relax," a voice says, and Jeongguk stills again. "I didn't steal any of your stuff."
By the water, a couple of feet away from the shade he had been sleeping under, sits a man. Jeongguk can't see his face, not all of it, at least. Just the faint outline of it, the high bridge of his nose, white silvery locks that almost look like they're shining under the sun.
"Who are you?" Jeongguk asks, moving slowly over the grass. As slowly as he can, careful not to make any sounds.
The man turns to glance at him briefly, brown eyes scanning him. He eyes the watch in Jeongguk's hand, quirks up at brow at the intensity in which he holds it, knuckles white, and Jeongguk studies him back, slowly, trying not to visibly be surprised by it all.
It's not him, Jeongguk wants to think. His eyes aren't blue. It can't be.
But something deep within himself twists uncomfortably at that, and Jeongguk stops moving.
Waits.
"That's not important."
It isn't hard to figure it out, not when he's heard all the myths and the legends, has listened to them enough times to recite them by heart. After all, Youngho hardly ever shut up about creatures like these, how unique they were. Jeongguk had never seen them, not until now, so he'd never think of how mesmerizing they could be; the pale skin, long silvery hair, tucked neatly behind the man’s ears. Nothing but radiant.
Faes.
"It's rude to stare," he says, eyes never meeting Jeongguk's own.
Jeongguk lets out a dry snort, and though it's hard, he manages to push down the laughter building up in his throat. It's not even funny. None of this is, he doesn't know what he's doing here, or who this man is, and he's scared out of his mind–not only because he's sure he can't possibly take this guy on a fight, but also because he's never felt more alone. But he pushes through, in the same way that he resists the urge to grab his things and run.
"It's also rude to spell someone," Jeongguk retorts. "Not like that stopped you, though."
"Please, it didn't even work."
The feeling at the base of his stomach twists again, and oh, so it was him.
The man grins, reaching out until the tips of his fingers meet the pond. Slowly, his fingers still into the water, small little droplets dripping down from them when he brings his hand out to point a finger at Jeongguk.
"Huh," he tsks his tongue, and Jeongguk watches it poke the side of his mouth, almost as if he's contemplating something. "Why didn't it work?"
His eyes, the same ones that had been shining a moment ago, now darken as the words leave him. Jeongguk swallows past the lump in his throat, keeping his chin up despite wanting to do nothing but run away as fast as he can.
He wants to tell him that he doesn't know, he wants to tell him that he doesn't care –but he remains quiet, toying with the watch between his fingers.
The fae stands, taking quick steps until he's standing right in front of Jeongguk. From his place on the ground, it almost feels like he's towering over him, so he rushes to his feet as well. Like this, he doesn't seem quite as threatening. They're practically the same height, with Jeongguk gaining on him by an inch or less–he's not quite sure, but that inch is enough to have a speck of tension leaving him, though it comes back when Jeongguk's eyes meet his again.
Jeongguk is no fool, he knows his way around fights and duels, has been trained his whole life for them, but just like he knows exactly how to swing a sword, he is also very much aware of his disadvantage when it comes to mythical creatures with literal magic. However bad they may be at it.
After all, if this man couldn't understand his own magic, then he must have not been very good at it in the first place.
The fae takes a step back, but the finger pointing at Jeongguk's chest doesn't waver.
"Who are you?" he demands, his tone careful.
Jeongguk juts his chin out, arms crossing over his chest. "Who are you?"
He may be many things, but he is not an idiot, at the very least. He's not about to just dump his personal information on the very person who attacked him the night before.
"Fine. What are you, then."
Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply, but his words die before he can get them out. The fae takes a step closer, just as Jeongguk takes one back, and digs the pad of his finger on his chest.
"You're human, obviously, but why didn't my magic didn't work on you? It should have killed you–"
"You were trying to kill me?" Jeongguk huffs, taking another step back as the other follows him again, the pad of his finger digging into Jeongguk's chest with each word.
He pays him no mind, rolling his eyes as he rambles on, "And yet, you're still walking all wobbly around my pond, so. Unless you're a grogoch and that's why it didn't work, then it might make sense. But you're not even remotely hideous to look at by any means, so I doubt it–"
By the time he's done talking, Jeongguk is all but cornered against a tree. The other's face falls back into a guarded expression so abruptly that he halts in his steps, his eyes sharpening. For a second, Jeongguk thinks he sees a twinkle of color in them, brown fading into lighter shades, but he blinks, and then it's gone.
"Did Aine send you?" he demands.
"Who's Aine?" Jeongguk asks, face twisting in confusion. "And what’s a grogoch anyway? I don’t know what any of that means, I don't–! I don't know anything, I'm just Jeongguk."
Jeongguk lets a breath out, slowly, trying to remain as calm as he can. It's trying, the change in the other's demeanor sending a cold chill down his spine, and this whole situation as it is, but he manages to at least keep it under his skin.
He doesn't know why Youngho sent him here, he doesn't know if he's supposed to seek shelter or if there's something he was supposed to find. But he figures that he is just going to have to do without whatever it was if this person–if this thing is just looking to toy with him.
Jeongguk swats his hand away, taking a step to the side before making his way back to where his bag is still discarded on the ground as quickly as he can.
He needs to get out of here, and he needs to get out of here now.
"She must have put a protection spell on you," he hears the fae sigh behind him. "It leaves ‘em silly for a while. Such a shame, though. It would have been so fun."
Jeongguk frowns, turning around to face him once his bag is secured over his shoulder.
"Why did you spell me, though?"
The fae shrugs, "You were in my pond."
"I'm pretty sure these are still the king's grounds," Jeongguk retorts.
He scoffs, "I'm pretty sure you don't know jackshit about how things run around here, but anyway. What are you doing here?"
"I hardly doubt that's any of your business."
The laugh that comes then is unlike any Jeongguk has ever heard before. It’s brief, yet strong when it feels as though it strikes Jeongguk right through the chest. A moment passes, but the feeling doesn’t leave until the other–creature, Jeongguk ventures–stands in front of him again, drawing out the outline of Jeongguk's jaw when his finger meets his skin.
“Your name,” Jeongguk demands, jutting his chin out, almost wincing when the finger follows after it. "What is it."
He laughs, retracting his hand to his throat, almost as if he’s adjusting the tone of his voice before he snarks, “I hardly doubt that’s any of your business.”
Jeongguk's eyes fall close as he tries to keep his composure. He is the crowned prince, and whoever this is should treat him as such. He's about to voice this out, but manages to catch himself in time.
After all, he is not safe yet.
He should hide his identity as much as he can.
“Tell me what you’re doing here and I promise I won't hurt you.”
Jeongguk scoffs. “I’d like to see you try."
A smirk grows across the other's lips, and the way it does so is deliberately slow, as if he's enjoying taking his time. Jeongguk takes half a step back, but stops when something tugs at his arm.
It happens in less than a second, faster than Jeongguk can fully comprehend. He blinks, and suddenly he is being pressed down against the grass, with a hand hovering over his face, as if he’s trying hard to harm him. With lost eyes, the fae stares at his hand for a moment, the frown on his face tainted with confusion, and it's in that moment when Jeongguk realizes–
He can’t hurt him.
Suddenly, it makes sense. Why he'd been so put out when his magic had failed to kill him last night, why he kept looking at Jeongguk like he was a puzzle he was trying to put together.
Jeongguk uses that moment, the moment in which the fae’s eyes flick to his hand for a second too long, giving him enough time to take the upper hand. He might be human, and he might not have magic in his veins, but Jeongguk is a prince.
And he fights like one, too.
Jeongguk flips them, securing his legs around both sides of him, holding him down by the throat, pressing down just enough for the other's hands to come up to Jeongguk's own, clawing at him to let go. He doesn't want to hurt him, and he isn't going to, but he wants to make it clear that he's not someone he can mess with, either.
Under him, the fae squirms, hissing out his next words, “Who sent you?”
"No one!" Jeongguk lies through gritted teeth, the pain tainting his voice hoarse.
With a flick of the fae's wrist, something pangs at Jeongguk's chest for the second time, and it isn't long until he feels it push against him, as if it's trying to lift him off the ground, but it never gets further than that.
With a grunt, Jeongguk lets go, letting out a frustrated breath before sinking down next to the other. He breathes, slowly trying to calm his heart down where it beats furiously against his chest.
"You can't stay here," the fae says when his arms fall to the ground at both sides of his head.
"Do you really think I want to?" Jeongguk retorts, and despite the weariness he feels from laying so close to him like this, he makes no attempt to move. "Do you really, truly, think I would ever choose to stay here willingly? After you tried to kill me not only once, but twice. "
"You came running into my pond, interrupted my sleep and suddenly I'm the bad guy? Please," he scoffs, and Jeongguk isn't looking at him, but he thinks the next words that leave him come with a roll of his eyes, sounding entirely too irritated when he says, "Why do you royals always think everything revolves around you?"
At that, his whole body stills.
He never said anything about being from the palace, never even mentioned anything about it. He'd been careful not to, smart enough to not give anything away, nothing but his name. Surely that would not have been enough to figure it out.
Carefully, Jeongguk prods further, "How do you–"
The fae cuts him off with a scoff, "Please, as if the emblem on your ring wasn't enough, no villager would ever wear a thing like that around their neck," he says, pointing to the compass sitting against Jeongguk's chest when he sits up. "But it doesn't matter, you have to leave anyway, so do it."
Jeongguk falls quiet, eyes drifting to the flowers surrounding the pond beside him. He reaches out, grazing his fingers against the petals, small little semblants of life. Then, quietly, he whispers, "I don't have anywhere else to go."
"You were going somewhere last night, though."
There's a laugh slipping out of him, dry and rusty. "I was coming here."
If Jeongguk were to look at him, he wouldn't miss the moment in which something crosses the fae's eyes, just for a few seconds, brief hints of guilt, before it's back to the stern look and disinterest.
"Go back to your pretty little palace, will you? Don't you have like, three of those, anyway? What's my pond compared to any of those?"
Jeongguk sits up, not daring to look at the other when he does so. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the flowers, gets lost in the pretty colors.
"If you mean the place where someone tried to murder me less than ten hours ago, then sure. Technically, I do. But I can't go back there."
"Why not?" The fae says through a groan.
Jeongguk turns to him, quirking a brow. "Seriously? I know you want me to leave but–"
"What makes you think you're safe here, huh?" he cuts him off. "What makes you think this isn't precisely the most dangerous place someone like you could be in?"
He takes a look around himself, at the flowers surrounding them, the calming sound of birds chirping. As Jeongguk's eyes set on the still water of the pond, he thinks: how could a place as beautiful as this ever be dangerous?
Jeongguk doesn't want to believe it, but he makes no move to retort. After all, he's only been here a handful of times, had never really stayed long enough to truly know how it's like around the forest, and reasonably speaking, he knows the fae would know more about it than he does, but he doesn't want him to be right.
He doesn't want to go home.
"Go home, little prince," the fae says, and it sounds almost kind, like it's a warning though it feels like a threat when he adds, "This forest is no place for people like you."
"In case you didn't hear me the first time, there are people trying to kill me."
"In case you didn't hear me the first time, anything in this forest won't hesitate at the chance of killing you, either. I told you. You're not safe here, go somewhere else."
Jeongguk rolls his eyes, leans over to secure a hand around the strap of his bag, "What do you suggest I do, huh?" he asks, though it comes out a lot harsher than he intends it to. “I can’t go back there.”
When he speaks, he does so with such a calmness to his voice that it has a cold breeze rushing down Jeongguk’s spine.
"Then you keep running," he says, and this time, Jeongguk catches the glint in his eyes, terrifying but rather beautiful all at once. "And you don't stop."