Raven alighted upon a branch just above the yearling’s head, watching him closely as he drank from the stream that ran through the forest. He was growing well, the sunlight shining through the leaves of the forest causing the antlers atop his head to glimmer ever so slightly. He was the epitome of perfection. Raven sighed as he trotted away towards a clearing with sweet green grass to nibble on. All the parts of her plan were falling into place and all she needed now was for the pesky little brother to find his way out of the castle and into the forest. His little shadow would not be far behind, she was sure, and when they finally met, the pieces of her puzzle would finally fit together and she would get her hands on the one thing she wanted most.

 

“Absolutely not!” Yi Chen exploded, hands gripping the arms of his throne so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Yifan’s eyes darkened. “But why not, Father? I’m turning twenty one this year! Yixing’s been allowed ever since he turned twelve! I’ve been so patient, Father. Please, I am truly so tired of everything in the castle. If I am to be king one day, should I not be out there interacting with the people? Surely, one visit to the marketplace would not hurt?” Yifan pleaded, the rejection sitting heavy in his heart.

“No. There is no way I am allowing you out of the gates. Who knows what could happen beyond the confines of the palace? No, Yifan. I cannot lose you. You are my son and my only heir.” Yi Chen was adamant, refusing to budge to his son’s pleas.

Yifan in a breath, “But…”

“No buts. You are dismissed. Yixing, watch him please. Don’t let him get into trouble.”

Yifan bit his lip harshly and stormed out of the room.

Yixing bowed, an apologetic expression on his face before he hurried out of the throne room after the prince.

 

“Perhaps you should reconsider, Chen. He speaks the truth after all.” Lan Ling rested a hand on her husband’s arm.

Yi Chen raised his head to look at his wife. “I cannot allow it, I cannot. What if she comes for him? What if we cannot protect him as well? Lan Ling, I cannot lose another son to this woman. The people cannot lose a leader and we cannot afford to lose an heir.”

Lan Ling sighed softly. “But we cannot protect him forever. He must learn to live and stand on his own, something his advisor seems to not take heed of given how he is always by his side. Perhaps if we allowed him on hunts with you? There will be plenty of men to watch over him and he does so love archery.”

“The forest is unsafe.” The king wrung his fingers, memories of the past incident with the sorceress clouding his mind once again, “You know what happened the last time.”

“Not if he isn’t allowed to wander off," Lan Ling said. "Yixing will ensure that.”

The king’s heart softened. He after all, only wished happiness for his child. If what it took for Yifan to be happy was to allow him onto their hunts, then so be it. Still, he was hesitant. “Perhaps. I will think about it. It will be a treat for him.”

Lan Ling smiled. “It would make him so happy.”

 

“You know your father would never do something without good reason, don’t you?” Yixing said softly when he caught up with the irate prince.

“Oh, of course, you would take his side. You’re allowed to go out. You’re not the one who’s had to spend all his life within these walls! Of course you wouldn’t understand, Yixing. You never do.” Yifan snarled furiously at his best friend as they walked down the hallway.

“Don’t lash out at me, Your Highness. I’m not the one who forbids you to leave the castle.” Yixing said evenly, reaching out to touch his best friend’s arm.

Yifan shot him a furious look and yanked his arms away. “I’m going to find Zitao.” He snapped and turned away. “And don’t follow me.” He added when Yixing walked after him.

“I’m your advisor. Following you is my job.” Yixing muttered, slightly annoyed now by the prince’s attitude.

“Your presence is suffocating.” Yifan shot back, hurrying down the hallway, eager to escape his advisor.

Yixing froze, his footsteps slowing to a stop. “I see,” he said, his words icy.

Yifan turned to look at him, surprised. He'd never heard Yixing sound like that.

Yixing turned away, determined for Yifan to not see the hurt look on his face. “Go find Zitao. I’m sure he will be happy to see you.” He muttered and walked away, pain stinging his heart at Yifan’s words.

The prince stared at his retreating figure, dumbfounded

 

“He didn’t mean it.” Joonmyun soothed, running his fingers through Yixing’s light-brown hair. The hair had started to curl up again, Joonmyun noticed. 

“He did,” Yixing mumbled, his words muffled into Joonmyun’s lap. They often did this: Joonmyun would be reading and Yixing would run to him, Yifan having dismissed him in anger. The advisor would kneel by Joonmyun’s chair and seek comfort from his friend.

“Talk to him. I’m sure he will apologise.” Joonmyun massaged Yixing’s scalp tenderly and the dark-haired boy lifted his head to look at him. He had been crying, Joonmyun observed. His eyes were rimmed with red as if he had tried to conceal the tears.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” Yixing murmured, dropping his eyes to the floor.

Joonmyun was almost positive that it was not just Yifan’s angry dismissal that Yixing was upset about. Lately, the prince had been spending a lot of his free time on the archery range with Zitao, and Yixing had almost always been left out because he could not shoot as well as the other two. Yifan’s tutoring sessions while they were children had paid off. Yixing could finally hit the bullseye on the target but he was still nowhere near as good as Zitao, who could shoot bullseyes on horseback, a feat that Yifan admired greatly. “That’s not true and you know that. He will always talk to you. You’re his best friend.” Joonmyun tucked a lock of stray hair behind Yixing’s ear and smiled down at his friend.

“Not anymore, it seems. I’ve been replaced,” Yixing mumbled, plonking his head back into Joonmyun’s lap.

Before Joonmyun could reply, the sounds of voices were heard behind the library door which swung open to reveal Yifan happily chatting with Zitao at his side. He took one look at their positions, Yixing kneeling by Joonmyun’s chair, face in his lap and his eyes glittered. “Sorry if we disturbed,” Yifan muttered and drew back, ushering Zitao out before shutting the door firmly behind him.

Joonmyun stared at the door, speechless. “Wait!” He shoved Yixing off his lap and headed after Yifan. “It wasn’t what it looked like!” He gasped, racing after the prince and grabbing his arm.

Yifan shook him off with a smirk. “Sure it wasn’t. I totally did not see Yixing with his face on your crotch.” He turned away and offered his arm to Zitao. Zitao smirked at Joonymun and took the offered arm. “Come Taozi, let’s leave the lovebirds alone.”

“What was that about? My head hurts now.” Yixing grumbled, coming up behind him.

Joonmyun turned to him, a crestfallen look on his face. “Yifan thinks we’re together.”

“And it’s such a bad idea to you.” Yixing deadpanned before sighing. “Don’t worry about it, Joon. I’ll explain it to him if it bothers you.”

“No it’s not that. I just don’t want… ah… that is… don’t...” Joonmyun stammered, looking at Yixing’s face. Yixing raised his eyebrows. “I don’t want Kyungsoo to get the wrong idea if Yifan decides to spread the rumour!” Joonmyun blurted before he could stop himself.

Yixing’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hair. “You like Kyungsoo?” His mouth dropped open.

Joonmyun ducked his head and flushed. “Yeah…yeah. Something like that.”

“This is gold! I can’t wait to tell Yifan!” Yixing crowed at the top of his lungs, dancing out of Joonmyun’s reach when his friend frantically tried to grab him. “I’m telling him right now!” Yixing cheered as he broke into a sprint after his best friend.

“No! Yixing, wait!” Joonmyun gasped, racing after his friend.

Yixing laughed, his earlier worries forgotten at the discovery of Joonmyun’s newfound crush. “Yifan! Yifan wait up! Yifan you’ll never believe what I just found out!” He ran around the corner, Joonmyun chasing after him, panic written all over his face.

“Well, I’m glad you guys are having fun.” An amused voice echoed just as Joonmyun rounded the corner and pounced on Yixing, tackling the advisor to the ground just as he had grabbed Yifan’s arm, pulling Zitao onto the ground with them as well. The four ended up in a pile on the floor.

Yixing groaned, shoving at Joonmyun. He struggled out from the bottom of the pile and looked up at the man who was watching them with an amused smile on his face. “Papa!”

Zhang Cheng smiled down at his son, glad to see him playing again. Yixing became serious and quiet after his appointment as the prince’s advisor, something that Zhang Cheng had hoped would change because he did not want his son to grow up too fast. He held out a hand and Yixing grabbed hold of it, helping him to his feet.

“Thank you Papa.” Yixing dimpled at his father.

It made Zhang Cheng smile and reach out a hand to pat his son’s cheek.

“What the hell, Yixing?” Yifan grimaced as Zitao hauled him to his feet. “Why did you do that for?”

Yixing’s smile slipped and Zhang Cheng watched with disappointment as the childishness melted off his son’s face and he became the serious Yixing again. “I’m sorry. I only wanted to tell you something, Your Highness.”

Joonmyun bit back a sigh of relief but like Yixing’s father, he was disappointed to see the advisor’s playfulness gone.

Yifan shot him a look that had Yixing shrinking away into the wall before spinning around with Zitao glued to his side.

“You grow up too fast, Little Star.” Zhang Cheng brushed a lock of Yixing’s hair away from his face and the boy faltered in his seriousness, leaning into his father’s touch.

“Someone has to.” Yixing answered as he allowed his father to straighten his jacket for him. “Speaking of growing up, how’s the research going?”

 

Zhang Cheng had never stopped searching for a cure for the curse that had plagued the older prince and had engaged Yixing in the search the moment the boy had shown any interest in old magic and history. Yixing had in turn dragged Joonmyun into the research because the older boy was more interested in the subject unlike Yifan who took every chance he could to skip history class. Zhang Cheng had made both boys swear to keep the subject a secret, especially from Yifan. Even though Yixing was usually very adverse against the idea of keeping something so important from his best friend, he understood that allowing the prince to know the truth was basically shining a beacon for Raven to come for another attack. Yifan, along with the rest of the kingdom’s occupants had basically grown up with the idea that there had been another prince before Yifan named Luhan, but he had died tragically because of crib death.

“I haven’t found much and I haven’t had the time to look too much either,” Yixing admitted, looking guilty.

Zhang Cheng smiled at his son. “Sometimes I forget that you have a job to do, Yixing. It’s alright. Just do your best. I’m sure Joonmyun will help you.”

“You think they will make us shoot today?” Joonmyun questioned as he and Yixing stepped into the archery range. Like Yixing, Joonmyun much preferred his books to a weapon but had proven himself to be a worthy opponent with a sword in hand.

“If Zitao has his way, we will. He will stop at nothing to demoralise me in front of Yifan.” Yixing sighed, thoughts of the younger more skilled boy piercing through his mind.

“Zitao’s a good kid,” Joonmyun argued, as they approached where Yifan and Zitao were setting up the practice targets.

“Sure, but he worships the ground Yifan walks on,” Yixing muttered, annoyed.

“And that bothers you because?” Joonmyun raised his eyebrows as they stood at the side of the range, watching the prince practice.

“Yifan’s ego doesn’t need any more inflating.” Yixing muttered, eyes focusing on the crown prince’s stance.

Yifan’s brows were furrowed in concentration as he stared at the target board in front of him. He notched an arrow to the string and pulled the bowstring back, increasing tension. The bowstring hummed as he let the arrow fly, burying its tip dead center onto the target board.

“Let’s try something else.” Zitao called. He brought out a human mannequin with targets marked onto the fatal areas. “Make this fast. I’ll call out the places and you have to shoot.”

Yifan nodded as he raised his bow again, ignoring Yixing and Joonmyun’s presence.

“Chest!”

The arrow flew straight, sinking into the center of the red ‘X’.

“Head!”

Again the arrow hit dead center.

"Throat!”

This time the arrow flew wide, sinking into the side of the ‘X’ instead of the center.

“Damn it! It’s always the throat I miss.” Yifan sighed as he went to retrieve the arrow.

Unable to help himself, Yixing called out. “It’s the way you’re holding the bow! If you angled it slightly away, it will hit the center.”

Yifan turned to look at him, surprised but he nodded and lifted the bow to try again. This time, the arrow struck the target in the center perfectly.

“You seem to know archery well Yixing ge. Why don’t you come down and shoot a few rounds?” Zitao’s tone was mocking.

Yixing was once again reminded of that one childhood lesson where he had misaimed the arrow so badly, he nearly maimed Captain Huang who had been standing a little too close to the target. “I don’t…”

Yifan cut in, a smirk on his face. “He’s right. I haven’t seen you shoot in forever. What are you scared of?”

Anger bubbled beneath Yixing’s calm demeanour as he gazed at Zitao’s smug face and he snapped. “Who says I’m scared?” he retorted, stepping into the shooting range.

Yifan looked surprised. “Xing, I was kidding. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Just give me the damned bow.” Yixing glared at him and snatched the bow from his hand.

“But…” Yifan’s protests were quickly shut off by Zitao.

“Just save it, Fan. He’s got it in his mind that he’s a great archer, so let’s see.” Zitao put his hand upon Yifan’s arm and pulled him out of the range.

The sight of Zitao’s hand so casually resting on Yifan’s arm made Yixing’s gut boil with inexplicable fury and he turned to the target board, seething.

Joonmyun stood at the side, watching worriedly. Yixing was not a rash person. His patience was practically endless, particularly when it came to Yifan. To see him this worked up over a small thing was worrying.

Yixing stared at the red paint splashed crudely over the mannequin and imagined it as Zitao. He lifted his bow and notched an arrow to the bow string. The range grew silent as the tension mounted.

“Get on with it.” Zitao whispered harshly under his breath and in the dead silence of the archery range, it was heard where Yixing stood.

Yixing gritted his teeth and released the bowstring. The arrow stabbed so deep into the mannequin that its tip nearly pierced right through it.

“Whoa. You’ve been practicing.” Yifan sounded proud and Yixing tried to stifle a smile.

“That’s nothing. Do the target boards,” Zitao called out.

Annoyance flashed across Yixing’s delicate features and he moved aside, in front of the bright, obnoxiously red target board.

Zitao walked into the range and pushed the target back. “Do it farther.” He smirked at Yixing before returning to his place at Yifan’s side.

“Zitao…” Yifan started but Yixing cut him off. “I can do it.” He sounded so determined that the prince closed his mouth.

Yixing notched an arrow and stared at the center of the target so hard, you would think it would have burned a hole through it. Biting his lip, he released the arrow. The arrow whistled sharply through the air and buried its head into the target, just a hair’s breadth from the bull’s eye.

“Too bad.” Zitao grinned at the crestfallen look on Yixing’s face.

The advisor glared at him. “I’ll do it again.”

“You’ve already had your chance and failed,” Zitao retorted but stayed where he was, the thought of seeing the always perfect advisor fail again too tempting to ignore.

Yixing tried, again and again but he was always just that little bit off. He could hear Zitao’s snickers getting louder as he notched the last arrow in his quiver. The bow string was already taut in his hand when out of the corner of his eye, he could see Zitao leaning into Yifan to whisper something into his ear. Irrational anger swept through him and he pulled the bowstring harder than he intended to.

 

Snap!

 

He barely felt the pain when the string snapped across his hand and wrist, hard enough to draw blood.

“Xing!” Yifan was already halfway across the range when Yixing became aware of the stinging pain in his hand. The prince grabbed his hand roughly and examined it, concern written all over his handsome face. Crimson red blood was trickling from the cuts caused by the string.

“It’s just a bit of blood,” Zitao muttered as he wandered over to them.

Yifan had pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it around Yixing’s bleeding hand. “He has haemophilia, you idiot. His blood cannot clot properly and he could bleed to death!” Yifan snapped at Zitao and applied pressure on Yixing’s hand.

Yixing winced but allowed his best friend to deal with the cut.

Joonmyun took the bow from him and asked. “Should I get your father?”

“There is no need…” Yixing replied just above a whisper.

“Pack away the bow, I will take him,” Yifan answered roughly. The handkerchief was red with blood and the bleeding was showing no signs of stopping.

“I will be fine…” Yixing argued weakly, eyes slowly fluttering shut as Yifan hustled him past Zitao and towards the infirmary.