The coffin was lowered into the ground with a final thud and Yixing swallowed back a sob. His fingers curled tighter into Junmyeon’s shirt as his brother gathered him close, Baekhyun balanced on his hip, too young to really understand what everything meant.

 

The day was grey and drizzly, rain misting down from the heavens to blur the world and he could barely see their father, all the way at the front with his head bowed, his black brimmed hat shielding his face from the downpour.

 

Soft strains of orchestral music played as the crowd began to dissipate and their father returned to them, his lips pressed in a thin line.

 

He rested a hand upon Junmyeon’s shoulders and steered them, without a word back towards the warmth of the castle.

 

Yixing clung to Junmyeon when their father left them in the Great Hall, vanishing up the stairs and into his study. He did not reappear again, not even for dinner.

 

No matter how much he begged, the servants would not let him even near the study, shooing him away repeatedly. His brother found him crying as if his heart would break on the floor beside the staircase, curled up into a ball wailing for their father.

 

Junmyeon let him sleep in his bed that night, the three of them, Yixing, Junmyeon and Baekhyun, curled up close.

 

Yixing heard his brother cry that night, soft trembling sobs that he struggled to contain.

 

“Myeonie?” he murmured, and the sobs stopped. Junmyeon shifted and in the single ray of moonlight that fell past the drapes in the windows, Yixing could see the tear tracks on his face.

 

“I’m okay.” Lips pressed against his forehead and Yixing cuddled up even closer, tucking his face into the crook of his brother’s neck, “go to sleep, Yixing.”

 

-

 

“No more dancing, not unless you’ve been invited to balls,” the proclamation near shattered Yixing’s heart.

 

Their father had vanished into his study for a week, not even appearing for meals and Junmyeon did his best to keep them from falling apart. He had tucked them into bed, sent them to their lessons and even ordered Yixing new dance shoes to keep his mood up.

 

Yifan, the cobbler, had promised those shoes to be in by the end of the week.

 

“But Papa-,” he tried and his father’s gaze levelled onto him, sharp and piercing. Yixing trembled even as he tried to protest.

 

“No more dancing, no more music. We are in mourning now, do you understand?” His tone was stone cold, with no regard for his son’s already cracked heart.

 

“Mother wouldn’t want us to-,” his father cut him off, his expression as dark as thunderclouds.

 

“Your mother is dead, Yixing. Music and dancing will not bring her back.”

 

Yixing sniffled, unable to stop the tears that were beginning to drip down his face, like little silver streams. Mother loved to dance.

 

She loved her music, could play the pianoforte and sing like an angel. She was the one who taught him all the dances he knew and the best way he could think of to remember her was to dance, to sing, to play the pianoforte as if his heart depended on it.

 

But now, he did not have even that.

 

“Yixing-.” he ignored his brother’s weak cry of his name and Baekhyun’s confused wails as he spun around, breaking into a run.

 

The steep stairs stole his breath away as he ran up all of them, the tears pouring down his face. He tripped and nearly fell, his blood roaring in his ears at the unfairness of it all.

 

He slammed the door to his bedroom open so hard that he startled the chambermaids. They all fled as he threw himself onto his bed and cried as if his heart had broken anew.

 

No one came for him, not even Junmyeon, though he could hear him pacing outside his door. He could hear Baekhyun too, crying softly and Junmyeon’s soft murmurs as he tried to soothe their younger brother.

 

The maids left dinner outside the door and he ate it, though it had grown cold by the time he ventured outside.

 

Slipping from his room, he headed for the library, in search of the book of stories his mother always read for him. They were ballet stories and he loved each and every one of them, from Coppélia to the Firebird.

 

He winced when he set his foot down on a creaky floorboard, holding his breath. For a beat, he froze into place, listening for any footsteps coming down the hallway but there was nothing but the silence of the night.

 

The door swung silently as he crept in, the lights dimmed. With a quick flick of a match, he lit the oil lamps, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

It did not take him long to find the book, always tucked into the same shelf as it always was. He tugged it out of its place, the leather soft against his fingers.

 

The covers were worn and stained where little hands had touched it over and over again, night after night. Even when he had entered adulthood, his mother had never tired of reading the stories and Yixing never tired of hearing them, creeping into Baekhyun’s room when she read them to hear her do the voices of the characters.

 

Humming to himself, he took one step, and another, the trill of music floating through his mind as he flipped through the pages, skimming the rich, jewel toned illustrations and handwritten words.

 

Mother had taught him the steps to Swan Lake and it was a dance he would always remember. The music was iconic, ingrained in his mind as he traced the steps on the dusty carpet in partial darkness, the oil lamps flickering and casting strange shadows on the walls.

 

He extinguished the lamps, slipping out of the library as quietly as he could.

 

Safely back in his room, Yixing retraced the steps over the circular mosaic on his bedroom floor, imagining that his mother was the one playing the music in his head.

 

He was deep into the steps, sweat dripping down the back of his neck when there was the sound of something grinding, like stone rubbing against stone.

 

The prince’s steps stuttered to a stop and he froze.

 

He stumbled away with a little cry when a single stone in the mosaic sank down, as if it had been pulled from beneath, terror clutching at his heart.

 

Yixing bolted for his bed, yanking the covers off and sliding beneath them. He tugged the covers above his head, trembling when the grinding stopped.

 

For a beat, there was silence.

 

Slowly, the prince slid out from beneath his covers, his eyes widening when he saw the massive crater that had just appeared into the middle of his bedroom where the mosaic had once been.

 

A head appeared and Yixing jumped, clutching the coverlet so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He watched in mounting terror as boot heels clicked, getting louder and louder until there was a figure in his room, body draped in shadow.

 

The oil lamps in the room flickered and went out the moment the figure took a single step forward. The temperature dropped, as if his very presence chilled the room.

 

Yixing stared, frozen in place as delicate fingers dropped back the jet-black hood, revealing a very handsome face.

 

“Hello.”

 

Fear exploded through him like a firecracker, numbing out all other emotion.

 

The prince screamed, his heart beating so loudly in his chest that he could not hear anything else. He screamed and screamed even when the figure’s face twisted with worry and concern until the door slammed open and Junmyeon was there.

 

“Yixing, Yixing!”

 

He was suddenly wrapped in his brother’s arms, tears that he did not know he had dripping down his face. Junmyeon was holding him, his heart beating steadily away under his ear.

 

He was warm and safe and Junmyeon was holding him. His brother was there.

 

Yixing shuddered and sobbed, burying his face into Junmyeon’s chest and Junmyeon let him, uncaring of the tears that soaked into his night shirt. They stayed like that, Junmyeon standing as close as he could to the bed, with Yixing cuddled into his arms.

 

“What happened?” His brother’s voice was gentle and familiar as fingers smoothed through his hair. Yixing shook his head and pressed his face against Junmyeon’s chest, whimpering.

 

“There was… There’s a man,” he stammered, pointing in the direction of the mosaic circle.

 

They both looked up at the same time and to Yixing’s horror, there was nothing there.

 

There was no sign of the man who came in shadow, no indication that the pretty mosaic stones had ever moved from their place.

 

Yixing slid off the bed, stumbling into his brother and nearly tripping over his feet as he stared.

 

“No, there was- there was a man!” he cried, trembling from head to toe. Junmyeon’s face was creasing in concern and then he was curling arms around him, pulling him closer.

 

“There was a man! He came from the floor!” Yixing could hear just how hysterical he sounded, half wild with terror and shock. He wrenched out of his brother’s arms, staggering over to the mosaic.

 

“Yixing!” Junmyeon yelped when his knees buckled, running to catch him before he fell. One knee struck the ground hard, sending electric shocks of pain up Yixing’s leg. He knelt, the tiles of the mosaic rough on his skin as he touched them, his eyes disbelieving.

 

“Yixing.” Junmyeon was feeling his forehead, where beads of sweat had gathered. Yixing squirmed but could not break free.

 

“Junmyeon, hyung, please. I saw him, I saw-,” Yixing cut himself off, trembling. His brother pressed a kiss against his hair, fingers combing through the mussed strands soothingly.

 

“You’re alright, Xing. You’re alright. It was a bad dream,” Junmyeon murmured, rocking his brother back and forth, as if he were a child again. Yixing shuddered, another sob tearing through his throat as his brother kissed him again, this time on the forehead.

 

He tucked himself under Junmyeon’s chin, a trying task, for he was already taller than he but it made him feel a little better, being small and squished up in his brother’s arms.

 

They stayed like that, until Yixing was no longer shaking, and the sweat on his brow had dried.

 

A soft wailing began and Yixing clung closer when Junmyeon shifted with a sigh.

 

“I have to go check on him,” he murmured gently, brushing back strands of hair from Yixing’s face.

 

“Can’t Father go?” Yixing mumbled. He knew he should not be selfish, he was twenty-one, an adult and he should not need his brother as much as he did. Baekhyun needed him more.

 

“Father’s asleep.” Junmyeon dropped a final kiss against his brow and rose, Yixing following like a little puppy.

 

He allowed his brother to tuck him back into bed and smooth the covers over him, just like Mother used to do, holding back the tears until Junmyeon was out of the room.

 

Then he let himself cry anew, clutching the book he had stolen from the library close to his chest.

 

-

 

“Junmyeon?” He felt like a three-year-old as he stood beside his brother, watching him tuck Baekhyun into bed.

 

Their little brother had been fussy and had wanted Junmyeon to sleep with him but with a lot of soothing, and some furtive looks at the door, Junmyeon had sung him to sleep.

 

His brother’s eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and he looked sunken, almost hollow when he raised his head.

 

Yixing felt bad for asking, but he was afraid. He could not shake the feeling that there was still something in his room, a strange cold feeling that made his skin crawl and his stomach tie itself into knots.

 

“Will you sing me to sleep too?” Junmyeon pursed his lips, sighing through his nose and Yixing could feel tears prick at his eyes.

 

He hated that he was so afraid, now that Mother was gone.

 

“Let’s go then.” His brother smoothed a hand over Baekhyun’s forehead, pressing one last kiss to his nose before turning from the room.

 

The hallways were dark and Yixing’s skin prickled as they walked down to his room. He stuck close to his brother, one hand curling around Junmyeon's elbow. Junmyeon did not seem to mind, wrapping an arm around his waist to tug him closer.

 

"I'm sorry, hyung," Yixing murmured and Junmyeon looked up at him with tired eyes and a faint smile.

 

"It's alright," he whispered back.

 

Yixing had never found his room cold or unwelcoming but it felt that way now, when they pushed open the door, the giant mosaic on the floor suddenly seeming like it could be a gateway to another world.

 

Junmyeon walked over to the windows as Yixing slid into bed, drawing the heavy velvet drapes apart so that moonlight shone into the room.

 

"Mother's here," he said so softly that Yixing barely heard him. The sentiment made hot tears prick at his eyes and he swallowed, tugging the covers up to his chin. He remembered that, when Mother was sick. She had told that they would always have her, that she would always be there for them, no matter what happened.

 

As long as the moon shone every night, she was there. The thought made Yixing a little less afraid as Junmyeon came to sit beside him, already humming a familiar lullaby. He closed his eyes, reaching for his brother's hand as Junmyeon began to sing, his voice silky smooth and soothing to his ears.

 

He could see the stars behind his eyelids, the forest in the stories that mother used to tell when she sung the song, the moonlight streaming through the window. The darkness slipped away as he let himself drown in his brother's voice, sweet and gentle.

 

In his dream, he was in his room once more, his mother seated beside him. His favourite stories were open before her and she was reading aloud, making it a game as she wove the words into simple little melodies that he could repeat.

 

He smiled, savouring the feel of her hands in his as the music drifted through the air.

 

It was their special connection, a special song and dance that she made for him and it was carved into Yixing's brain and muscle memory.

 

They were arriving at the end of the story, his mother getting up from her place to dance his special dance, when the mosaic creaked beneath her feet. Yixing flinched, crying out in terror but his mother did not seem afraid.

 

She kept on dancing, and dancing, even as the stones ground and moved beneath her feet, revealing a staircase that spiralled down and down into the darkness and he could no longer see the bottom.

 

Heavy footfalls echoed on the stairs and Yixing clutched at his coverlet, terrified. It was just a dream and his mother did not seem afraid.

 

In fact, she was still dancing, a smile frozen on her face as she spun and twirled, her feet light and graceful.

 

“Hello.”

 

It was the same man from the past night, dropping back his hood to smile disarmingly at Yixing.

 

“Mama?” He pleaded faintly and the man turned to look at his mother. His breath caught when his mother took his hand, her smile so sweet as she gazed upon him.

 

“Say hello, little star, don’t be rude,” she admonished and Yixing glanced at the strange man, who was bending to press a kiss against his mother’s knuckles.

 

“Hello?” he murmured faintly. If Mother knew him, this man could not be all bad, right?

 

The man smiled, showing a row of perfectly white teeth that gleamed in the darkness. His skin was tanned, almost greyish in the dim light when he extended his hand.

 

“I’m Kai,” he said, taking a tentative step towards Yixing, as if afraid that he would scream again.

 

Yixing remained still, allowing him to come right up to his bed.

 

His skin was unnaturally cold when he took up his hand, pressing plush lips against his knuckles, the very picture of chivalry.

 

“I’m Yixing,” Yixing stuttered, his cheeks flushing at the gesture. No one had kissed his hand like that in a very long time.

 

His mind briefly reminded him of the cobbler, who had come to visit before Mother’s death. His smile had been just as charming.

 

“I am Prince Under Stone,” Kai murmured, executing a perfect bow and the image of Yifan the cobbler was dashed from his mind.

 

“Under Stone?” He questioned and the prince nodded, gesturing towards the staircase.

 

“My father’s lands lie beneath this staircase. It is a lovely place, full of music and dance.”

 

Those were the magic words, to a prince who was no longer permitted to play and dance in his own home.

 

“May I-?” Yixing stuttered, stealing a glance at the figure of his mother, standing peacefully by the staircase.

 

As if he read his thoughts, Kai smiled.

 

“You are welcome to visit,” he answered, “but not tonight.”

 

Yixing’s spirits fell but rose again when Kai continued.

 

“Not tonight, for this is only a dream. Tomorrow night, I will come to get you. Only if you desire, of course.”

 

“I do,” Yixing started, his teeth clamping down on his lower lip at just how eager he sounded.

 

He was starved to dance. Dancing in his bedroom at midnight was nothing compared to a big, fancy ballroom with a full orchestra.

 

-

 

True to his word, the dark prince Kai came the following night, the mosaic stones grating on his ears as they shifted, transforming into the staircase that Yixing had seen before.

 

Yixing was still afraid, huddled up beneath his covers, but Kai’s face was kind and he did not push.

 

“Your Highness,” he bowed, extending his hand and Yixing could not help but admire his form. He was a dancer from head to toe, he could see it in every line of his body to the very tips of his fingers.

 

“Kai?” he called his name quietly, testing its weight on his tongue. It was a good name, very princely.

 

The prince bowed in response and the way his lips curled had Yixing’s heart stuttering in response.

 

He really was an incredibly attractive man.

 

He slid out of bed, suddenly aware that he was in his nightclothes.

 

“I- I should change-,” he stuttered but the prince shook his head, still smiling.

 

“There’s no need, your highness. We will provide the clothes. You will look ravishing, I promise.”

 

Taken by surprise, Yixing could only nod, slipping his fingers into the proffered hand. Kai’s skin was oddly cold, but he supposed with a title like Prince Under Stone, it must be a place without much warmth.

 

His cheeks flushed a little when the prince kissed his knuckles, reminiscent of what he had done in his dream.

 

“Your shoes, Your Highness,” Kai reminded him kindly and Yixing dropped his hand, flushing. He snatched up the shoes from where he had left them sitting, lacing them up as quickly as he could.

 

Already, adrenaline was beginning to run its course, delight taking over his fear. The staircase was dark and the air smelled slightly damp, as if they were entering a cellar. Yixing wrinkled his nose as darkness swallowed them.

 

There was an archway at the bottom of the stairs and as they stepped out, his feet sank into something cold and soft. He looked down and gasped.

 

It was grass, green and ticklish against his ankles as they walked. He looked up and gasped once more.

 

A forest of trees stood before them, at least, what he thought was a forest. But it was strange and otherworldly. The trees were silver, from the roots all the way to the tiniest leaf.

 

Unable to believe his eyes, he reached out, fingers brushing against the trunk of the nearest one.

 

“Are they real?” he gaped, very aware of how foolish he had to look. The prince’s amused gaze burned into him but he could not bring himself to care.

 

He had never seen anything like this.

 

“Yes, they are, Your Highness.” Kai’s voice was patient. He reached up, plucking a twig from the branch. The silver snapped as easily as a normal twig, with a resounding crack. Yixing stared as he was handed the silver twig, real and solid in his hand.

 

“It’s beautiful,” he said, returning the twig to the prince. Kai tossed the twig back into the forest and they continued on.

 

For a forest, it was eerily silent, though Yixing thought nothing could possibly live down there. They were essentially underground, after all.

 

The forest opened out to a massive lake, its waters a jet-black sheet. It stretched out on either side, going on for miles in length. Yixing saw a glimmering castle across the shore, could actually hear the music from where he stood on the bank.

 

A silver gondola was waiting for them, complete with silver oars.

 

Kai stepped in first, reaching out a hand to help him in.

 

The boat wobbled when he moved but Kai’s arm was steady. Yixing settled in the stern, gazing across the lake as the prince picked up the oars.

 

The lake glittered, like the sky at midnight, its waters rippling like the smoothest silk and beyond, the castle gleamed.

 

It did not take long for them to arrive on the opposite shore.

 

Yixing’s heart soared as the music floated through the air, a lively tune that brightened his day just a little more.

 

“Oh, that sounds lovely.”

 

He smiled as Kai helped him out, distracted by the pearly dance floor and marble archways.

 

So distracted was he that he did not notice Kai pressing up against him, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. His eyes were coals burning into him as he whispered.

 

“Don’t touch any of the food and drink here, if you still wish to leave by daybreak,” the words were soft, but the implication was clear.

 

Yixing nodded. He was hardly interested by the food, the music far more alluring.

 

Kai led him out onto the dance floor and the orchestra ceased their playing. With a quick nod, they changed their tune, to a lovely slow waltz, perfect for him to warm up with.

 

Endorphins flooded through Yixing as Kai led the dance, his lips lifting into a delighted smile as he was spun and twirled through familiar steps.

 

The music was intoxicating, dripping and trilling through his veins. It filled him up, brimmed and spilled over, and he could see only Kai, his partner, spinning across the dance floor.

 

Kai was an excellent dancer, and a wonderful partner. His movements were as fluid as the lake, soft and almost boneless in their motion.

 

Yixing laughed his way through a happy salsa, Kai breaking into a grin at the sight of him. It was liberating, being free to dance as much as he liked, the music like a shot of adrenaline through his bloodstream.

 

He barely even noticed the passage of time, only that they danced and danced until the music finally ceased and Kai held him in his arms.

 

Yixing laughed when he took a step, wobbled and almost fell. He looked down at his dance shoes.

 

They were completely worn through, all the way down to the sole.

 

“Did you have a good time?” Kai asked as he rowed them back across the lake. His eyes were shining and he did not seem to have broken a sweat at all that rigorous dancing.

 

Yixing on the other hand, was breathless and exhausted. But happy. He was so very happy.

 

“I did,” he said earnestly, staring at Kai’s face, “may I come again another time?”

 

Kai softened, his smile impossibly kind as he said, “you may come as often as you wish. Every night, if you so desire.”

 

Yixing’s heart leapt at the very thought and he clutched at the prince’s hand when he was helped out of the boat.

 

Kai walked him as far as the staircase and the sun was already shining through the windows by the time he made his way back into his room on his own.

 

Tugging the ruined shoes from his feet, he dropped them onto the floor and kicked them beneath his bed, his feet sore and aching but his heart full from dancing.

 

It felt as if his head had only just touched the pillow when someone shook him awake.

 

He stirred groggily, nudging at the person who was shaking him.

 

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” he slurred, pushing himself into a sitting position.

 

Junmyeon’s disapproving face swam before him and he sat bolt upright.

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Time for your sword fighting lessons,” his brother said curtly, tugging the covers from his grasp.

 

Yixing still felt rather sleepy and groggy as he rose, the servants rushing in to help him in his bath.

 

The warm water was heavenly on his skin and he would have fallen asleep in the bath had Junmyeon not rapped loudly on the door, insisting that he hurry.

 

Breakfast was a rushed affair, Yixing almost falling face first into his oatmeal. He was still tired by the time he arrived at the arena, Junmyeon already beginning his lesson.

 

“Slept in, didn’t you?” The sword master rapped his knuckles against Yixing’s head, his lips pulled with disapproval. He a practice sword into the prince’s hand and gestured for him to join his brother.

 

Yixing obliged, still yawning.

 

Junmyeon was frowning when they began sparring, Yixing’s s and jabs sloppy and almost uncoordinated. He barely managed to side step an easy jab, stumbling and nearly tripping over his boots.

 

“What’s wrong with you today?” Yixing looked up when Junmyeon grumbled at him, striking at his hilt hard enough to jar his wrist. He winced and shrugged his shoulders, taking a step back before his brother could take another stab at him.

 

“Just tired,” he yawned, and Junmyeon stepped forward, jabbing his sword under his guard. He ended up with the tip of the wooden sword pressed against his chest.

 

“Perk up, Prince Yixing! Your brother will beat you twice before you’re awake,” the sword master growled, stalking over to them.

 

“I’m sorry,” Yixing grimaced, wiping a hand over his brow. He was already sweating, the sun beating down heavily upon them.

 

Junmyeon frowned at him, lifting his sword again.

 

“Are you alright?” His brows were creased with concern and Yixing wanted to smooth it away. He hated to worry his brother.

 

“Fine,” he replied, raising his sword, “let’s go again.”

 

-

 

Yixing was exhausted by the time they were finished.

 

As he slumped over to hand the practice sword over to a servant, something hard and small slammed into his legs, nearly toppling him over.

 

“Woah!” he laughed, though his vision swam for a bit. He crouched down and his lips could not help lifting into a smile when he saw Baekhyun’s grinning face.

 

“Hyung is all gross!” he squealed when Yixing wrapped his arms around him, picking him up. Despite the faces he made, he still leaned into the hug, wrinkling his nose. Yixing’s heart warmed when he heard Junmyeon laugh from behind him, walking over to tweak Baekhyun’s nose.

 

“You’re getting all gross too, Hyunnie,” he teased, “you’ll need another bath after this.”

 

Baekhyun squirmed and Yixing turned to allow him to crawl into Junmyeon’s arms, their brother similarly sweaty.

 

“Bath together?” he asked sweetly and Junmyeon laughed once more, hefting him. They exchanged glances.

 

“Shall we race to the baths?” Yixing raised an eyebrow. He was down.

 

“Let’s go!” he laughed as he broke into a run first, Junmyeon and Baekhyun hollering protests from behind him.

 

He was already in the lead when a figure rounded the corner and he skidded to a stop, his cheeks flushed from exertion, chest heaving.

 

“Father,” he panted, bending over to catch his breath.

 

“You’re a cheater!” Junmyeon laughed as they too, rounded the corner and Yixing’s blood chilled at the disapproval in their father’s eyes. He dropped his head and he saw the very moment Junmyeon’s eyes fell upon their father.

 

The hall was silent for a beat, one terrifying beat.

 

“Have you forgotten that we are in mourning, boys?”

 

The king’s tone was tight, strained with anger and Yixing did not think he could flush any more. Junmyeon too, was completely silent, still clutching Baekhyun to his chest.

 

They had to look a sight, both princes sweating and heaving, with their hair windblown and ruffled.

 

Yixing ducked his head, biting his lip harshly when their father’s burning gaze was directed to Junmyeon.

 

“I expected better from you, Junmyeon.”

 

The sentence hung heavily in the air, even when he had left, footstep echoing down the hallway.

 

Baekhyun, still cuddled in his brother’s arms, sniffled, as if he had sensed the heavy atmosphere.

 

With a sigh, Junmyeon set him down, ruffling his hair gently.

 

“We’ll walk to the baths okay?” he said and Baekhyun looked up at him with teary eyes, clinging to his pants.

 

“I want Mama,” he whispered and it was enough to widen the crack in Yixing’s already broken heart.

 

“Come on Baekhyun.” He reached for his brother’s hand, Baekhyun taking it hesitantly.

 

Together, they walked to the baths, solemn and silent.

 

The cheerful mood of the day had been disrupted and Yixing could not find it in himself to be happy.

 

He wandered to Mother’s gardens, settling at her favourite bench to think.

 

The roses that she loved so much were blooming, filling the air with their fragrance. She had perfume made from their petals and different roses produced mildly different scents.

 

Yixing was just reaching out to brush his fingers over the nearest rose when a voice startled him.

 

“Good afternoon, Your Highness.” He looked up, a smile stretching across his face when he saw the golden head.

 

“Yifan!” He leapt up from his seat as the cobbler walked over, carrying a large box in his arms.

 

Yifan looked around sneakily, and put a finger to his lips as he set down the box, lips pulling to a gummy grin. Yixing dropped onto his knees before the box, completely ignoring the fact that he would get grass stains on his pants.

 

The box was made of wood and sturdy as he lifted the lid, practically dancing with excitement.

 

“Ohh,” the prince sighed at the sight of the perfect dancing shoes, stacked in pairs of white, beige and black. There were two pairs of each colour and when he pulled them out, the satin gleamed in the sunlight.

 

“Try them on,” Yifan urged and Yixing obliged, slipped the shoe over his foot. It fit perfectly, the way Yifan’s shoes always did.

 

He put the other one on, grinning when the cobbler held out his arms.

 

“Did Junmyeon get you to make more?” he asked curiously as he took Yifan’s hand. It was much larger than his and warm as the cobbler led him through a series of easy dance steps.

 

The fabric was soft and molded to his foot as he danced.

 

The way Yifan held him reminded him starkly of the dark prince but Yifan was so much softer around the edges. His smile was fond and Yixing found himself leaning into him, his embrace warm and safe.

 

He laughed when Yifan picked him up off the ground, swinging him through the air almost effortlessly.

 

Yifan laughed with him even as he set him down, Yixing twirling away playfully to . He felt almost weightless as he spun back, Yifan catching his hand.

 

“Yixing!” They spun around to see Junmyeon glaring from the other end of the garden. His hair was damp from his bath and he was frowning so deeply that Yixing could see the crease between his brows from where he stood.

 

A hot flush spread across his face at being caught and he wrenched out of Yifan’s grip, and would have fallen to the ground had Yifan not caught him.

 

The cobbler’s cheeks were tinted pink as well, as he set Yixing carefully down on the bench, as if he was a delicate flower.

 

“Dancing is forbidden, Yixing,” Junmyeon whisper-yelled, half in alarm and half in anger, “did you want Father to take your shoes away?”

 

Yixing ducked his head, the glow of dancing slowly fading away. He had not considered it. Yifan’s lips were pinched, apologetic as he bowed to the crown prince.

 

“It wasn’t his fault, Your Highness,” he said quietly, “I may have enticed him a little.”

 

The cobbler’s voice was a little wistful as he continued, “he’s a lovely dancer.”

 

Yixing’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink at the compliment and Junmyeon looked only a little mollified as he grabbed his wrist.

 

“I’ll have the servants send the shoes up, won’t you stay for lunch, Yifan?”

 

The cobbler looked startled at the invitation, his eyes immediately flitting to Yixing. Yixing chewed his lip.

 

“I suppose I will, if His Highness wills me to,” he said slowly and Yixing gave him a little smile, his heart fluttering when the cobbler returned it.

 

Junmyeon was looking between the two of them with an exasperated glance, though a smile was beginning to bloom on his lips.

 

“Come on then,” he jerked his head, still holding on to Yixing.

 

-

 

“You look well,” Kai murmured as Yixing curled his fingers around his arm. The moonlight lit upon his face and his eyes gleamed like pools.

 

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from Yixing’s face and Yixing blushed.

 

The prince was still dressed in his nightclothes, his new shoes laced on his feet.

 

“I feel well,” he replied honestly and Kai grinned, his teeth almost unnaturally white in the darkness.

 

“Shall we?” Yixing felt his heart flutter when the prince folded into a neat bow, his arm extended.

 

The night blurred as he danced, Kai holding him delicately in his arms.

 

His feet hurt by the time they left, the short green grass poking against some blisters left by the shoe.

 

He had to keep a good grasp on Kai’s arm, pleading for him to stop before they could even arrive at the staircase.

 

“Wait, wait!” He gasped, stumbling and nearly falling. Kai skidded to a stop, his brows creased with concern.

 

“What is it?”

 

Yixing crouched, untying the ribbons that held the shoe to his foot. He winced as they came off, crusted with blood from broken skin and popped blisters.

 

“I have to take these off,” he grimaced, tugging off the other shoe.

 

The shoes themselves were in bad shape, worn through, just like they had been the night before.

 

“Ouch,” he murmured, brushing a delicate finger over the bruises and blood.

 

Kai tugged at his arm.

 

“I know they hurt but you must go quickly. The gateway will be sealed by sunrise.”

 

The thought of being locked in spurred Yixing forward and he made it to his bedroom clutching his shoes before collapsing onto the bed, his magical clothes fading from him as he slid beneath the covers.

 

Every night, Kai fulfilled his promise, taking Yixing beneath to the castle across the black lake. They danced until his shoes were worn through and the sun was rising.

 

Kai had an uncanny knack for telling when the sun was about rise even with no way to tell time in the castle.

 

They had been dancing for a week or two, when Kai introduced him to his father, King Under Stone.

 

The king made Yixing’s skin crawl.

 

He radiated the same sort of fear that Kai had the very first night he had appeared in his bedroom. His eyes were onyx stones, black and glittering when he raked them up and down the prince.

 

Yixing tried hard not to show his unease when the king released them back to dance. His head throbbed strangely and he tripped over his steps when Kai led him in a simple waltz.

 

The night seemed exceptionally long and he was practically dead on his feet by the time Kai took him to the boat.

 

“I don’t think I can dance again tomorrow night,” he said softly and Kai’s expression twisted.

 

“Why not?”

 

Yixing was taken aback by the tone of the prince’s voice. He sounded almost angry.

 

Warily, he bent, undoing the ribbons of his shoes. The shoe fell away, revealing a multitude of bruises and blisters.

 

“They hurt, and I’m exhausted,” he replied. Kai looked incredibly indifferent as he studied the wounds.

 

“I can take them away tomorrow, like I’ve always done,” he said dismissively.

 

Yixing winced and shook his head.

 

“I’m tired, Kai. I’m not like you. I’ve barely had seven hours of sleep within the past days.”

 

Indeed, he was keeping Junmyeon up with his lack of sleep. His appetite had dropped, despite the furious dancing and he knew his brother was worried.

 

“My father will be disappointed if you do not dance,” Kai said stiffly, his black eyes focused on the rippling in the water. His arms never stopped rowing, until the boat bumped against the bank and he rose, setting down the oars.

 

Yixing slipped off his shoes, draping the ribbons over his arm.

 

Kai’s palm was as cold as ice when he set his hand into it, the prince helping him from the boat.

 

“Kai-,” Yixing hated to end the night on such a sour note but a hand sliding into his hair and lips pressing against his stopped him.

 

He gasped and Kai’s arm slid around his waist, pulling him close.

 

“I will miss you if you do not come,” Kai murmured against his lips, Yixing staggering when he released him.

 

His eyes glittered like onyx stones as he lifted the prince’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

 

Yixing’s heart tripped.

 

He watched the staircase close, Kai’s black eyes burning into him before he limped over to his bed, dropping his ruined shoes onto the floor.

 

How could he possibly say no to that?

 

-

 

“What is the meaning of this?” Yixing’s heart stuttered when he stepped into the room, only to be faced with both Junmyeon and his father staring back at him.

 

Junmyeon’s face was pale and his father looked absolutely livid, his face flushed red with anger.

 

Yixing’s heart almost stopped when he noticed what his father held in his hand.

 

It was a shoe.

 

His shoe, to be clear.

 

It was worn through, all the way down to the sole, the fabric already torn and faded from its original splendour.

 

“You’ve been dancing.”

 

It was not a question.

 

His father’s eyes burned into him and Yixing felt panic begin to well up inside him. He could not be discovered.

 

Dancing with Kai was one of his only great pleasures and he could not have that be taken away.

 

“Where have you been going, Xing?” Junmyeon looked more worried than angry, toying with the other broken shoe.

 

“The servants said that his shoes are worn through almost every night, for the week that they found them,” the king said, his eyes narrowed. Yixing bit his lip, refusing to look up at them both.

 

If he kept mum, no one would know of his secret.

 

“He must be sneaking out somehow.”

 

Junmyeon was still looking at him, worrying the shoe.

 

“Xing?” His voice was gentle and Yixing swallowed the sudden burn of tears in his throat.

 

“Speak up, boy. Where have you been going?” His father’s tone was harsh, cutting as he tossed the useless shoe down onto the floor.

 

“Nowhere,” Yixing bit out, lying through his teeth. His father made a sound, half of fury, the other of disbelief.

 

“Nowhere?! Your dancing shoes are worn through every single night. I will ask only once. Where have you been dancing?”

 

“I told you, Father, nowhere,” Yixing retorted. His heart was pounding in his ears as he twisted his hands together. He was lying and everyone in the room knew that.

 

Junmyeon’s face twisted into alarm when Father rose, towering over them both. He looked as if he was ready to strike him for his lies.

 

“Where have you been dancing?” He thundered, his voice piercing and painful against Yixing’s eardrums.

 

Yixing bit down hard on his lips, so hard that he could taste the metallic tang of blood. Silence was his only weapon.

 

His father gripped his chin, tipping his head up to look him in the eye and Yixing kept his lips pinched shut, trying to keep the tears at bay.

 

They were at a stand-off, Yixing near trembling from the weight of his secret, his bitten lip beginning to bleed.

 

“So be it.” The king released him with a sound of disgust and Yixing stumbled back, covering his mouth with his hand.

 

He could feel his father’s gaze burning like fire into him as he said.

 

“You will be escorted to and from your room from now on. If Junmyeon will not you, you are to remain in your room. I will have guards placed under your window and by the door of your room. If you try to leave at night, your attempts will be foiled.”

 

“Father!” Junmyeon’s expression looked so scandalised that Yixing almost felt grateful. He should have felt afraid, or upset that his father was treating him like a prisoner, but instead, he was relieved.

 

His brother would never have permitted guards to be placed on the inside of his room. That was too much. His secret was still safe.

 

-

 

“Yixing, Yixing!” Yixing wrenched his arm out of his brother’s grasp, whirling around in fury.

 

“What do you want?” He ground out. Yifan was on his way to the castle and he had been dying to see him.

 

He was bringing shoes with him, after Yixing had secretly commissioned him to make him more, and to strengthen the box with more glue so that they would last longer.

 

It never helped really.

 

By the end of the night, the shoes would be worn all the way down to the sole and completely useless.

 

“Where have you been going? You know just how dangerous things are out there. You can’t just leave in the middle of the night without telling anyone.”

 

Junmyeon was nagging him, his voice turning into noise in his ears.

 

Yixing wrinkled his nose, trying to tune him out as he turned away, hurrying back down the hallway.

 

His heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Yifan again.

 

It was always a good day when the cobbler came to visit, and not even the conversation with his father could dampen his spirits.

 

Although Junmyeon might, with the way he tried to follow him, eyes narrowed.

 

“Yixing!” A hand grabbed his shoulder and he growled, shaking him off once more.

 

“Leave me alone! You just want to report to Father!” He snarled when Junmyeon stepped in front of him.

 

His brother’s eyes widened at his tone before his gaze turned icy.

 

“Keeping you safe is my duty and if reporting to Father would keep you safe, I would gladly do it.”

 

Yixing felt tears prick his eyes as he folded his arms across his chest at Junmyeon’s words. Of course, his brother would call him a duty. As if Yixing was not worth more than a promise to their mother on her death bed.

 

He spun around and walked the other way, ignoring Junmyeon’s exasperated cry.

 

Yifan was already in the garden when he burst out of the kitchen door, startling the cobbler. He rose at the sight of him but Yixing waved him back down, stumbling into his arms before he quite knew what he was doing.

 

“Junmyeon is a pig,” he murmured faintly and Yifan stiffened around him.

“Don’t speak of your brother like that,” he admonished gently, his fingers through the prince’s hair.

 

“He loves you dearly and wants nothing more than to see you happy.”

 

“He suffocates me,” Yixing muttered and the sound of a door slamming made him look up.

 

Junmyeon was standing there, with a look on his face that he could not quite describe. But it made Yixing’s heart clench and guilt began to well up inside of him.

 

Yifan started to rise but Junmyeon spun around and ran before anyone could say anything, his expression one of pain.

 

Yixing collapsed back into Yifan’s arms, burying his face into the crook of his neck to hide from Yifan’s chastising gaze.

 

The guilt sat like a rock in his stomach, heavy and sharp.

 

-

 

“You seem troubled,” Junmyeon looked up from his book to see his father watching him closely.

 

He had been staring at the same page in his book for close to a minute without processing a word on it.

 

His mind was replaying Yixing’s guarded look and the harsh words he had said to Yifan about him.

 

“I’m fine, Father,” he smiled wanly and listened to the papers on his father’s desk rustle.

 

“It’s Yixing, isn’t it?” A cold hand rested against his forehead and Junmyeon startled.

 

His father’s lips had a pinched look about them and his eyes were full of sorrow and worry that Junmyeon wished he could take away.

 

Their mother’s death had been hard on him.

 

“I can handle him, Father-,” he started but his father cut him off.

 

“I need to know where he goes at night,” he said seriously, “it’s too dangerous out there.”

 

He had the strangest look on his face and Junmyeon wondered if he had an inkling of here Yixing might be going.

 

But that was stupid.

 

If Father knew where Yixing had been going, he would not keep asking.

 

Junmyeon bowed his head.

 

He wished he could be more useful but he was still angry at his brother and Yixing was not likely to spill his secret to him either.

 

Not when he thought he would report back to Father the first chance he got.

 

“I don’t know, Father. He won’t tell me either and the maids still find his shoes under his bed, worn through.”

 

His father pulled away, worry creasing his brow and Junmyeon fought the urge to wrap his arms around him in a hug.

 

He was far too old to do that.

 

“Try, won’t you? I worry for him. He was always so attached to- to your mother.” His father smoothed his fingers through his hair gently and Junmyeon swallowed, casting his eyes down.

 

They never talked about Mother.

 

Her portraits still hung in the hallways, her favourite china still on the mantlepiece. Even her personal reading room was left untouched, the book that she had been reading before she fell ill still on the table.

 

It was as if she had just stepped out for a bit.

 

Junmyeon still had trouble remembering that she was gone.

 

He woke up some nights calling for her and would lay in bed waiting for her to come and smooth his brow and kiss his cheek before remembering that she was gone.

 

There was a gentle knock on the door before he could reply and the door creaked open a fraction.

 

Baekhyun’s little face peeked in around the door and Junmyeon smiled when he wandered in, clutching tightly to a tray with cookies on it.

 

“Hello, Baekhyunnie,” he set aside his book, crouching to take the tray from his brother.

 

Baekhyun gave him a gummy smile and reached up to their father.

 

“Papa!”

 

His father smiled a little and scooped him up.

 

“Is Papa happy now?” Baekhyun wondered, pressing sticky fingers to their father’s cheek and Junmyeon winced when he left chocolate trails on Father’s face.

 

“I am, now that you’ve come to see me with cookies.” His father took a cookie from the plate and Junmyeon did the same.

 

“Where’s Yixing hyung? Weren’t you with him this morning?”

 

Junmyeon distinctly remembered the servant telling him that his youngest brother had gone to the library to read with Yixing.

 

“He wanted to take a nap, so I went to get cookies.”

 

Baekhyun took their father’s half eaten cookie and offered it to Junmyeon.

 

“Cookie?”

 

Junmyeon exchanged a glance with his father and took the cookie.

 

“You’ll ruin your lunch, little brother,” he said as he bit into the baked good, the chocolate chips melting on his tongue.

 

Baekhyun pouted, scrambling down from their father’s arms to grab another, stuffing it quickly into his mouth as if he was afraid that Junmyeon would stop him.

 

“Was he tired already? It’s still early,” Father asked and Baekhyun shrugged, tugging at the hem of his shirt to be picked up.

 

“He looked tired. He almost fell asleep when he read to me,” Baekhyun giggled, wiping his sticky fingers on their father’s shirt.

 

“Perhaps you ought to check on him.” Junmyeon’s lips thinned and his father glanced at him.

 

“Did the two of you have a fight?”

 

 Junmyeon shook his head mutely, nudging his book away.

 

“I’ll be right back. Don’t eat all the cookies Baek, save me some, please.”

 

Yixing was deep in his slumber when he pushed the door open, wincing at the creak. He had the covers drawn up to his chin and was sleeping soundly, soft little snores issuing from his lips.

 

Junmyeon frowned.

 

Yixing never snored.

 

He must be incredibly tired if he was snoring.

 

Slowly, he crept over to the bed, kneeling to feel around beneath the frame.

 

Sure enough, he found a pair of dancing shoes, almost completely worn through.

 

Turning them over, he could see what looked like grass stains on the soles, the material worn so thin that he could easily push his fingers through and make a hole.

 

He bit his lip when he turned them over and saw blood crusted on the heel of the shoe.

 

Yixing had to be in agony every time he took a step.

 

But he had still looked them in the eye and lied.

 

Junmyeon gritted his teeth, rising to his feet.

 

He cast his sleeping brother an angry look and left the room, dance shoes in hand.

 

-

 

He did not see Junmyeon for days after their fight, his brother deliberately avoiding him.

 

Yixing still slipped away to dance the night away, but the pain worsened every morning, when the sun shone through his windows.

 

He had to conceal the broken shoes, and send the servants away at bath time so that they would not see his ruined feet.

 

Kai insisted upon his attendance despite numerous pleas for one night of rest and he came every night.

 

Yixing was beginning to dread the nights, when he heard the squeaking and whirring of the mosaic’s stones that signalled Kai’s appearance.

 

“My love,” Kai seemed especially tired that night when he appeared to him, his eyes hollow, the bags beneath them dark and heavy.

 

Yixing seized the opportunity.

 

“You look tired,” he reached up a hand to his cheek when the dark prince stood over his bed.

 

Kai’s skin was so cold against his fingertips and so smooth that it almost felt like marble.

 

But the prince merely smiled, strained around the edges and took his hand.

 

“I will be fine after we dance, dearest.”

 

Yixing sank back into the pillows, fear and exhaustion clouding in his chest. He was too tired to dance.

 

“But I’m tired too. We could stay here, tonight. I could read your stories from my childhood,” he implored, lacing their fingers together.

 

Kai wrinkled his nose and Yixing was suddenly struck by just how little he knew about the prince. He knew only that he had lived in Castle Under Stone his entire life, had never seen sunlight and had no desire to and that he enjoyed dancing.

 

“Come, love. My father will not be happy if we are late,” a strong hand gripped his arm and Yixing had no choice but to sweep back the covers, Kai running his fingers over his blistered feet and lace on his shoes.

 

The cold feeling of fear never left him the entire night even as his body melded into the music, moving almost on autopilot.

 

His feet felt like there were knives slicing through them by the time they left, new blisters opening up all over the skin. His shoes were full of blood as he limped into the boat, clutching onto Kai’s arm like a lifeline.

 

The strangest thing was that Kai was practically glowing with health, as if he had absorbed the energy from the dances.

 

He looked much better at the end of the ball than when he first begun, his eyes gleaming, the hollows filled out.

 

Yixing collapsed into the boat with a pained sound, yanking off his shoes.

 

“Please stop the pain,” he gasped.

 

His feet were still bleeding, blood dripping all over the bottom of the boat.

 

Kai looked down at them and winced.

 

“My powers are waning, dearest.” He crouched, his hand curled around one oar. “I can only try.”

 

His feet tingled a little but the pain barely dulled and he had to suppress the urge to scream when he stepped out onto the bank on the other side of the river.

 

“Don’t come for me tomorrow please,” he begged when his knees buckled and Kai had to catch him.

 

He left bloody footprints in the grass as he limped his way to the staircase with Kai’s support.

 

The prince’s brow furrowed when he helped him up the staircase.

 

“You know I cannot do that, love,” he said, “my father wishes to see you dance.”

 

“He watches me dance every night,” Yixing exclaimed, “he can give me a day to rest and I’ll dance even better.”

 

Kai’s expression was pained as he shook his head, carefully helping the injured prince over to his bed.

 

“He will not. I must go. The sun rises. I will see you tonight, my darling.”

 

Before Yixing could protest, he was gone, the mosaic shifting back into place as if they had never moved before.

 

He managed to toss his shoes under the bed and curl up beneath the covers, his body shivering even as the sun’s rays streamed into the room, his breaths coming out in short little pants.

 

For the first time in his life, Yixing was afraid of dancing.

 

-

 

“Is your brother still unwell?” Junmyeon looked up from stirring syrup into his breakfast to see his father staring worriedly at the empty seat.

 

He shrugged, watching the golden syrup disappear into his thick porridge.

 

It was incredibly petty of him but he still had yet to speak to his brother.

 

Yixing had been holed up in bed, citing a headache when Junmyeon had asked his maids and Junmyeon had left him be, even though Father had wanted him to attend breakfast that morning.

 

Father had his papers in his hands and had barely spoken all morning anyway.

 

Junmyeon was more preoccupied with making sure that Baekhyun did not decide it would be fun to smear his porridge all over the table.

 

Baekhyun did not seem to notice the obvious tension in the room when their father put away his papers, reaching over to bring his cup of steaming coffee up to his lips.

 

“You have not spoken to him.”

 

It was not a question.

 

Junmyeon shrugged once more, taking the tiniest bite of his porridge. He was not hungry.

 

Yixing’s maids had brought him another pair of worn out dance shoes and he was close to ripping his hair out wondering how his brother was getting out.

 

The guards at the door had reported no strange activity.

 

They said that the prince had remained in his rooms all night and even the ones stationed beneath his window said the same.

 

But the shoes kept wearing out.

 

Junmyeon had sent the shoes to Yifan and the cobbler was curious as to why the soles were covered in grass stains.

 

So Yixing had to be leaving somehow.

 

“Is it not a little petty for you to still be angry at Yixing?” His father asked, startling him out of his thoughts and Junmyeon pinned his poor porridge bowl with his stare.

 

“He’s keeping secrets,” he said stiffly, “and he had the gall to call me a pig.”

 

“Junmyeon,” his father’s tone was stern, “you are the older brother. Surely you should be a little more forgiving. Will you be like this even when you’re king?”

 

Junmyeon’s cheeks burned and he kept his eyes down, as if he wanted to bore a hole into the table top.

 

“It’s too soon to be talking about me being king, Father.”

 

“No, it is not. You will be of age in two years, Junmyeon. A quarter of your life will have already passed. If you are this narrow minded when you are king, you will not make a great one.”

 

“I will still have you to guide me, Father. I will learn eventually.”

 

His father’s lips twisted, as if he had more to say but he remained silent, fingers curling around a little golden key that he often wore.

 

“What does that unlock, Father?” he asked, skilfully changing the subject.

 

“A chest in your mother’s closet,” came the reply, his father worrying the key on its cord.

 

“There are things in it that explain our family and heirlooms for you and your brothers. The key will be yours when you are crowned.”

 

“Why not give it to us now?” Junmyeon sat up, curious. Their family had always been a strange one, full of mystery and intrigue.

 

No pictures hung on the walls and they had never ever met their grandparents, on either side.

 

Mother and Father had always been very secretive about their past.

 

Junmyeon only knew the barest minimum about how they had met.

 

At a lavish ball where his father had been a prince and Mother a princess.

 

They fell in love and got married, the end.

 

There were no other details, nothing about the wedding or their family.

 

His father smiled kindly at him.

 

“I think you need a little more time to grow up before you’re ready to hear the stories, my dear boy.”

 

Pouting, Junmyeon stirred his porridge a little more. It was no longer edible at this point, all clumpy and sticky and gross.

 

He reached for his cup of chocolate, sipping it delicately.

 

“I think I’m rather grown up enough, Father.”

 

Father laughed and shook his head.

 

“Be patient, Junmyeon. You will get to know them when the time is right.”