Junmyeon was fretting in the library, nose deep in a book when Yifan found him. His shirt was loose, half falling from his shoulder.

 

The cobbler carefully tugged the sleeve up, startling the prince.

 

“Yifan.” He looked up, sighing in relief when he saw that it was just him.

 

Yifan had not missed the white robed priests standing outside the door. They had eyed him suspiciously when he entered.

 

“Are they guarding the crown prince from evil now?” he joked lightly and Junmyeon wrinkled his nose, shutting his book.

 

“The gateway is sealed. I do not know why they still insist on staying. They have men prowling the gardens as well and the High Priest seems to think that there is a chance that there may be another gateway elsewhere in the castle.”

 

“And you?”

 

The crown prince looked so tired as he set aside his book that Yifan felt a twinge of pity in his chest.

 

“I just want this to be over. The priests have been here for weeks, uprooting our lives and frightening Baekhyun. If they say that they have sealed the gateway, why must they continue to search for more?”

 

“Perhaps they are only worried for your safety, Your Highness.”

 

Junmyeon snorted at that and then clapped a hand over his mouth, glancing around him as if to check that they were alone.

 

“Perhaps,” he said quietly, shelving away his book.

 

A clatter from beneath them made him wince and Yifan raised his eyebrows.

 

“They are rummaging through the archives,” the prince explained, “I’m going to go through Father’s things.”

 

His words tripped a little and he choked, Yifan patting his back gently.

 

He could not imagine what the prince was going through, losing his mother to illness, almost losing his brother and then his father to unknown forces.

 

Junmyeon would be the one who would shoulder the responsibility of the crown now, until he was of age to be crowned king.

 

“If it is any consolation to you, I have made contact with a friend. One of the white magicians. He would be happy to purge the castle of any lingering darkness that the priests so  fear.”

 

Junmyeon nodded as they walked, soft rustling following close behind.

 

The priests were following them and they made Yifan’s skin crawl with goose bumps.

 

“Must they follow you everywhere?” he asked lowly and the crown prince’s lips twisted.

 

“It is the High Priest’s orders,” he said, his jaw tight, “I cannot be rid of them.”

 

Yifan rolled his eyes.

 

He had heard stories from his mother about the High Priest, how much he valued his position and thought he was above everyone else.

 

This High Priest was fairly new to the position, after the previous one had passed on due to old age.

 

Passing by the temple meant hearing stories about how he mostly lounged about, looking important and only showed himself when someone needed something blessed or a vision to be dissected.

 

He held very little respect for the crown and only the king had been able to keep him in line.

 

But now the king was gone and the secrets of the royal household were being slowly exposed.

 

Yifan feared that something would happen to the princes if the priests continued to talk amongst themselves.

 

“Do they perhaps think you are tainted? That you would turn dark?” he asked when the door to the king’s study was pushed open.

 

Junmyeon did not reply, turning to level a glare at the priests who stood meekly behind them.

 

“I wish to be left alone for this task,” he said loudly and the priests trembled a little under his gaze.

 

“But the High Priest-,” one of them stuttered and Junmyeon fixed them both with his dark eyes.

 

“The word of the crown precedes the word of the temple. Please, leave us both.”

 

He folded his arms, watching the priests waver before they scuttled away, the multiple bracelets on their arms jangling.

 

“They must, don’t you think? Why else would he send people to follow me around? Word will get back to him that I sent his men away and I will be even more suspicious to him.”

 

Junmyeon strode into the study, his footsteps heavy with anger. He shut the door behind him and went over to the desk, rummaging around.

 

Yifan winced as he watched the prince pull out stacks of papers from the lowest drawer, tossing them carelessly onto the table.

 

“What exactly are you looking for, milord?” He asked when Junmyeon sank to his knees, yanking out the lowest drawer.

 

The drawer was mostly empty, save was a little black book, carved with symbols that were vaguely familiar to him.

 

“This,” Junmyeon said softly, his tone wavering as he traced his fingers over the symbols.

 

There was a tiny spark and the cover cracked open, revealing pages upon pages filled with spidery writing.

 

The prince touched the words reverently and Yifan could see tears shining in his eyes before he stood abruptly, shoving the book inside his robe pocket.

 

“Father gave me this.” He opened his palm so that Yifan could see the little golden key sitting in the middle of it.

 

“He said it opens a chest in Mother’s closet.”

 

The fact that they managed to sneak out from the King’s study to the Queen’s chambers was no mean feat as the palace was suddenly filled with priests in their white robes, strutting about as if they owned the place.

 

Yifan stood guard by the door while the prince opened the closet. He could hear him fiddling about until the key clicked in the lock.

 

“Papers. Another book and goblets? Some jewelry- oh!”

 

Abandoning his post, Yifan returned to Junmyeon’s side to watch him pull out an open silver locket and several branches like the ones of the silver trees they had seen from the underground.

 

“This-,” Junmyeon stuttered, staring at the tiny picture in the locket.

 

It was old and dusty but the face was still undeniably the same.

 

It was the Black King.

 

“Oh dear,” Yifan said very quietly.

 

“He was telling the truth,” Junmyeon said, still shell shocked.

 

There was a heavy knock on the door before Yifan could comment and he had never seen the prince look as terrified as he did in that moment.

 

He dropped the locket back into the chest, twisting the lock back into place, sliding the cord of the key over his neck just in time when the door swung open.

 

The High Priest stalked into the room, his eyes dark and glittering as he took in the two men crouched on the floor beside an old worn chest.

 

“My followers tell me you sent them away,” he said icily, cold eyes sweeping over the prince.

 

Yifan has to resist the urge to put his fist into the priest’s face at the blatant disrespect he showed to the prince.

 

“Am I not allowed privacy in my own home?” Junmyeon asked stiffly, rising to his feet.

 

He looked like the epitome of royalty, even with his tired eyes and ruffled hair.

 

The Priest’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Not after our beloved king had to die to seal in an ancient evil that manifested in this home, no.”

 

Yifan in a breath and Junmyeon’s jaw tightened.

 

“So you think I was responsible for opening the gateway?” he asked, his tone sharp.

 

“If It were not your brother, who else could it be? Why would the gateway open on its own?”

 

“My brother spoke explicitly of this, did he not? The underworld prince sought him out, reasoning of which we do not know.”

 

“Prince Yixing is still weak from his injuries, recently awoken from fever, those are reasons enough to doubt the authenticity of his statements.”

 

The blatant contempt in the High Priest’s tone was enough for Yifan to bristle in fury. He was about to tell the Priest exactly where he could shove his opinions when Junmyeon gripped his arm, lips pressed thin.

 

“I assure you, High Priest. My brothers and I will stand nothing to gain from opening a gateway to the underworld.”

 

The High Priest raised an eyebrow.

 

“No? With your father dead, we would be forced to crown you earlier because the kingdom cannot be without a king.”

 

Yifan gasped in outrage at the accusation as Junmyeon’s face went very white.

 

“How dare you-.”

 

“You think I would murder my father. The man who has loved and cared for me all my life just for the throne?”

 

The High Priest regarded with ice cold eyes.

 

“You tell me, Your Highness.”

 

Junmyeon trembled where he stood and Yifan was about ready to really put his face through the priest’s face, decorum be damned.

 

The prince grabbed his arm before he could move however. He was still trembling but his voice was steady when he spoke once more.

 

“That is a serious accusation, High Priest. Perhaps it should be brought before the court. And the white magicians that are bound to visit the palace in light of recent events. You may present your evidence then. Until then, we are innocent until proven guilty. Have a good day.”

 

With that, he scooped up the chest and stalked out of the room.

 

Yifan sent the High Priest a glare that pinned him where he stood before hurrying after the prince.

 

“Your Highness.” He had to run to catch up with Junmyeon, who was striding away rapidly. How could someone of such a small stature move so quickly was beyond him.

 

Junmyeon’s eyes were glimmering with tears and Yifan fell silent, following as the prince collected a confused and sleepy Baekhyun from his bedroom, taking the chest that was handed to him.

 

“I want my brothers moved,” Junmyeon declared, shoving the doors to Yixing’s bedroom open so harshly that the servants jumped.

 

“Where to?” Yixing was sitting up feebly in his bed, hair ruffled, robes half open.

 

Yifan found himself blushing and looking away, freezing in the doorway.

 

“Somewhere away from the High Priest’s quarters. Preferably Father’s,” Junmyeon said, levelling his gaze at the servants around them and they scurried into action.

 

“What’s happening?” Baekhyun asked, rubbing at his eyes.

 

Junmyeon’s gaze softened when he spoke again, gentler this time.

 

“We’re going to share a room for a time, little brother. I hope you don’t mind?”

 

 -

 

The days that preceded his healing were not peaceful.

 

Together, Yixing and Junmyeon read through the books and papers, with the doors bolted and their most trusted guards at the doors and windows.

 

The High Priest had not tried anything quite yet, nor asked them for the things that Junmyeon had carried out with him from Mother’s room but they could all feel the mounting pressure as they struggled to piece together Father and Mother’s past and find out what they truly were.

 

There were accounts from Father’s diaries that noted his days in the Underground Realm, the Black King his constant companion.

 

Yixing still had trouble reconciling the image of the Black King as a young man, desperate to hold on to his only friend.

 

Father had called him by name.

 

He had been a person and he had meant something to their father, once upon a time.

 

“Do you think-,” he paused in his page turning and Junmyeon looked up, “that the Black King orchestrated this just to get Father back?”

 

Junmyeon in a breath, his gaze dipping back down to the book he held in his hand.

 

“I don’t know,” he answered slowly.

 

“But how did he reopen the gate? He said Father had sealed him in. Who opened that gate? And why?”

 

There were no answers.

 

The only answers they found were to questions of their parents’ heritage.

 

Father’s journal went into great detail on the woman he had met, the human princess who had attended a ball and stolen his heart.

 

He wrote of the Black Kong’s jealousy and anger when he found out, how he had fought to protect his love, venturing into the sunlit world to seek a way to unbind his soul from the darkness he had been born into.

 

“Do you think he loved Papa?”

 

Yixing asked, running his fingers lightly through Baekhyun’s hair.

 

His little brother was asleep in his lap, bored of his toys and books.

 

“Perhaps so,” Junmyeon replies, looking disconcerted.

 

He closed his book gently, leaning over to Baekhyun’s head.

 

He barely stirred, only mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like Mama before falling silent once more.

 

Yixing glanced back at his book, his eye catching on the words princess and dance.

 

He frowned, bringing the book higher up to squint at the spidery writing.

 

His face grew paler and paler as he read and by the time he had finished the rest of the page, his hands were trembling.

 

“Hyung?” He said and Junmyeon looked up at once, something in his tone catching his attention.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I think I did open the portal.”

 

“How-,” Junmyeon read over the lines that he pointed out, eyes widening.

 

“Mother taught me this dance,” Yixing said, his voice trembling.

 

“She must have used this to open the portal to go and see Father.”

 

Junmyeon frowned, scooting closer.

 

“But Father- Father would have known then wouldn’t he? He kept asking where you went. If Mother went to the same place, wouldn’t he know immediately just from the shoes?”

 

Yixing shrugged his shoulders, suddenly terrified.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Junmyeon chewed his lip.

 

“He might have known. He asked me where you went but he looked as if he already suspected. Perhaps that was how he knew where to find the gateway and open it.”

 

-

 

Junmyeon fretted over Yixing’s words while his brothers slept, staring up at he ceiling.

 

Sleep did not calm easy to him as he debated the merits of telling the priests that it had all been an accident.

 

Their words could be used against them. Yixing’s punishment would be worst if discovered.

 

They could twist his words and his brother’s life would be forfeit.

 

Swallowing the ball of fear in his throat, he turned over into his side, watching as Yixing slept on, his brows creased as if he was worried too, in his sleep.

 

He reached over to smooth them, wishing he could lift the burden from his brother’s shoulders.

 

Perhaps he would tell them that he had done it.

 

The thought had barely formed in his mind when the doors were slammed open, an army of priests storming into the room.

 

“What is the meaning of-, mmmph!” he screamed when a hand clamped over his mouth, his arms twisted behind his back as he was dragged from the bed.

 

He could hear the clink of chains and Yixing’s confused muttering as he was roused from sleep.

 

His eyes flickered to him and he screamed too, when a rough hand seized his hair, a ball of fabric shoved between his lips.

 

Junmyeon twisted in his captor’s grip, clamping his teeth down onto flesh.

 

The person who held him yelped and a heavy blunt force struck him in the back of his head, pain blossoming in his skull.

 

He struggled, dizzy with pain, too shocked to shout when a rag was pushed into his mouth.

 

Cold shackles snapped shut around his wrists and he thrashed, screaming wildly as Yixing was forced into his knees, a black iron collar fastened around his throat.

 

“Be still, Your Highness.”

 

The sight of a cold blade on Baekhyun’s throat was enough for Junmyeon to freeze mid thrash, his eyes widening.

 

The High Priest had his youngest brother by the hair, a silver dagger laid against his neck.

 

He was smiling when Junmyeon quieted, eyes glowing with hatred as he let himself be manhandled onto his knees, a similar iron collar clasped around his neck.

 

Baekhyun was trembling, his eyes shiny with tears and Junmyeon hated how helpless he felt when when they were dragged to their feet, his arms bound uselessly behind his back.

 

“Take them to the dungeons. They will be hanged by sunrise.”

 

The High Priest offered no other explanation, his expression haughty as Junmyeon was wrestled out of the room.

 

He tried to crane his head around to see his brothers but a sword point pressed against the small of his back, digging into flesh and he stumbled forward in the darkness with only rough hands guiding him.

 

The air grew colder and damper, smelling of mold and decay as they descended down to the cells.

 

His feet were freezing as he was pushed down stony steps, tripping and nearly falling flat on his face before he was yanked upright.

 

Humiliation burned his cheeks when the priests merely laughed, shoving him along.

 

He could hear Yixing behind him and Baekhyun crying bitterly and his heart clenched.

 

He was the eldest and he could not protect them.

 

A large heavy door was shoved open and he stumbled into the room, Yixing following close behind.

 

His wrists were manacled, shackled to the wall and the rag was pulled from his mouth.

 

Junmyeon’s heart skipped a beat when he realised that Baekhyun was not with them.

 

“Where is Baekhyun?” he demanded as the priests did the same to Yixing, his brother nearly collapsing into the floor, his face pale.

 

“Don’t you worry, Your Highness.”

 

The title was mocking as the High Priest stepped into the room, Baekhyun still in his grasp. He waved the dagger threateningly when Junmyeon lurched forward at the sight of the weapon so close to his brother, eyes burning with fury.

 

“What are you going to do with him?”

 

He could not stop the fear from leaking in his voice as he watched the priests leave them, Baekhyun dragged along with them.

 

His little brother was crying, his face streaked with tears and he wanted nothing more than to rip off his chains and hold him close.

 

“He’s your incentive to hold your tongue, Your Highness. If you try anything tomorrow, your brother will die first.”

 

“You’re a monster,” Yixing said softly from his spot against the wall.

 

He was shivering, his face pale in the moonlight but his eyes were hard and cold as he stared at the High Priest.

 

The priest only laughed.

 

“I am not the one who is half shadow.”

 

He waved mockingly and Baekhyun’s cries increased in volume as he was forcibly removed from the room and the door was slammed shut, the sound of a key turning crushing Junmyeon’s hopes.

 

“Yixing,” he struggled, taking a step towards his brother. Yixing looked as if he might collapse anytime, his face pale with pain.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“My feet,” Yixing gasped, tugging weakly at his chains, “they ache so.”

 

His knees buckled and Junmyeon cried out in alarm when he fell, barely catching himself against the wall.

 

“Yixing.” Junmyeon swore when his chains yanked him back, too short to allow him to reach his brother.

 

Yixing was making short little pants, his injured feet peeking out from beneath his sleeping robes.

 

They looked red and raw, as if they had not been healing at all.

 

“Language.”

 

His brother gave him a watery smile but Junmyeon could not bring himself to return it.

 

“What are we going to do?”

 

-

 

Yifan thought it strange the moment he set foot in the palace, the amount of priests milling around, before the sun had even risen.

 

There were loud construction noises, the sounds of hammers striking against nails coming from the front of the palace, where the courtyard was located.

 

The priests were dressed in mostly ceremonial robes and cast him suspicious glances when he entered, carrying a wooden box.

 

It was mostly for show, a reason for him to visit the princes.

 

Yixing would have no need for dance shoes for a long while, while his feet healed but Junmyeon and Baekhyun still did, if only just for leisure.

 

He carried them up to the former king’s chambers, surprised to see the door wide open and unguarded.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

The High Priest’s voice greeted him, cold and unfriendly.

 

He was standing by the window, silhouetted by the sun, his robes milk white.

 

“I do not answer to you,” Yifan replied sharply, “where are the princes?”

 

“You are only a cobbler. Their whereabouts are none of your concern.”

 

The High Priest did not even turn to face him, his tone flat and expressionless.

 

Yifan forced down the ball of panic in his throat even as his fingers gripped the edges of his box tighter.

 

“I’ve come with their shoes. Prince Junmyeon asked for them to be delivered,” he lied smoothly and the priest shrugged his shoulders.

 

“There will be no need for that. The princes are to be hanged at sunrise.”

 

“What?”

 

Yifan could not help his shock, nearly dropping his box. He fumbled and the priest turned to him, his expression eerily calm.

 

“On what grounds?” he asked hurriedly. Junmyeon was a smart man, he would never have voluntarily revealed anything. The priests had to be bluffing.

 

“Black magic. The second prince opened that portal and his elder brother must have had a hand in it.”

 

“Where is Baekhyun then? He is only a child.” Yifan swallowed down his fear, anger a growing flame in his belly.

 

“In his room. He’s been wailing.” The priest waved his hand dismissively and it took all of Yifan’s willpower not to drop his box and bolt.

 

Instead, he turned calmly, stalking out of the room without thanking the priest, his mind whirling.

 

Chanyeol was due to arrive anytime soon but he feared that he would be too late.

 

The magician would be able to discern whether the princes were telling the truth. He could save them but time was ticking.

 

Breaking into a run, Yifan hurtled down the hallways, racking his memory desperately for the location of Prince Baekhyun’s chambers.

 

He could not imagine what proof the priests had to execute the older princes and there was no word from them, even from their most trusted guards.

 

Yifan managed to find his way to the hallway which had contained Yixing’s old bed chamber and he remembered Junmyeon mentioning that he could hear Baekhyun crying from down the hall in the middle of the night.

 

Gritting his teeth, he hefted the box and hurried down the carpeted floor.

 

“Baekhyun?” he called as loudly as he dared and a soft cry answered him.

 

“Yifan hyung!”

 

There was pounding on the nearest closed door and Yifan exhaled with relief, setting down his box.

 

He leaned against the door, rattling the doorknob.

 

It was locked.

 

“Are you alright, Baekhyunnie?”

 

Baekhyun wailed back.

 

“I want hyung!”

 

Oh dear.

 

He could hear the young prince whimpering from his side of the door, heaving sobs tearing from his throat.

 

“Where are your hyungs, Baekhyun? I need you to stop crying and tell me where they are.”

 

Yifan tried to keep the frustration from his tone. He did not want to frighten him further.

 

“They- They locked them up,” Baekhyun sniffled, his voice muffled by the wood, “the priests.”

 

He sobbed a little.

 

“Can you get me out, Yifan hyung? I want Junmyeon hyung.”

 

Yifan’s heart cracked a little for him.

 

“I can’t right now but I will, alright? I’ll bring both your hyungs.”

 

Baekhyun sniffled loudly and Yifan pressed a hand against the door.

 

“Be brave, Baekhyunnie. You’ll be okay. I’ll be back soon.”

 

He heard the youngest prince make a sound of affirmation.

 

“Please come back quickly.”

 

“I will, Baekhyunnie.”

 

With that, Yifan left his box at the door, sprinting down to the ground floor.

 

He ducked around a pillar to hide from a herd of priests heading his way and scurried off to the kitchen.

 

The cobbler had no idea where the dungeons were located but the palace staff would.

 

They were already disgruntled about being ordered around by the priests, enough that they would give him aid if he explained where the princes were being kept.

 

But before he could say anything, he caught a glimpse of the sunlight glinting in from the kitchen window, the sound of a bell tolling through the entire palace.

 

“The poor dears,” the cook sighed, “that’ll be them now.”

 

Yifan’s blood ran cold.

 

“What’s happening?”

 

He asked as the staff vacated the kitchen, all of them sniffling and walking towards the front of the palace, where he had heard the tinkering sound from earlier.

 

“The execution. The princes are to be hanged. Poor dearies.”

 

A dish washer shook her head and the cook wiped her nose on her apron.

 

“Handsome young lads too.”

 

Yifan did not stay to hear them lament any longer.

 

He ran, as fast as his legs could carry him to the courtyard, his heart in his mouth.

 

There was a massive crowd gathered, the hangman’s noise already erected in the middle.

 

The bell tolled once more he turned to see the Head Priest appear on the balcony, regal and almost noble looking in the rising sun, holding little Baekhyun by the hand.

 

The young prince was still crying, the sunlight reflecting off the tear tracks on his face.

 

“Hear ye. The princes are hereby declared guilty of treason against the king! Long live our king and may he rest in peace!”

 

Yifan had never wanted to do anything more than punch the smug smile right off the priest’s face.

 

He watched as the bell tolled for the last time and the great doors were pushed open, two rows of priests appearing.

 

His heart sank to the bottom of his stomach when Junmyeon appeared first, a rag stuffed in his mouth, arms chained at his back, barefoot.

 

He stumbled and the priests caught him, pushing him forward.

 

Junmyeon’s hair was mussed and the back of his robes were damp with sweat as he struggled weakly, his eyes flickering up towards the Hight Priest with hatred.

 

His struggling ceased when the priest made the tiniest gesture towards his brother and he allowed the priests to drag him up onto the wooden platform built in the centre of the courtyard.

 

“Where’s your proof!” Yifan yelled out in desperation and the people took up the cry.

 

The princes were well beloved by the people and such an execution was devastating to the kingdom.

 

“Proof?”

 

Yifan’s heart dropped down into his stomach when the doors were opened once more and Yixing appeared, similarly garbed.

 

His hair was damp and he was limping badly, pain evident with every step that he took. His wounded feet peeked out from beneath his robes, the rough stones scraping at delicate skin.

 

“Here’s your proof! The princes are unholy creatures!”

 

Fury blossomed in Yifan’s stomach when a priest shoved Yixing onto his knees, yanking his robes aside to reveal his feet.

 

The people gasped as another priest approached him, bearing a wooden bowl carved with runes.

 

Yixing seemed to know exactly what was coming as he screamed into the gag, twisting and writhing with all of his strength as his brother watched helplessly from the platform.

 

But it was futile.

 

His shriek was almost animalistic when they poured the holy water over his injured feet, kicking and thrashing so wildly that Yifan feared he would injure himself further.

 

Junmyeon was yelling too, tears streaming down his face as he fought against the priests that held him to get to his brother.

 

“Would you like more proof?”

 

-

 

“No!”

 

Junmyeon shrieked, inaudible through the gag when Yixing went still, his body still shuddering and trembling from the agony of the burns.

 

He clawed at his bonds, helpless fury bubbling and boiling beneath his skin as the priests stripped him of his robe, baring the ugly scar on his shoulder to the people.

 

His breaths were coming out in heavy pants as he thrashed, arching and fighting as hard as he could to get free.

 

A hand clamped around his throat and he choked, his knees buckling.

 

He was pinned down, splinters from the hastily built platform piercing through his skin as he struggled, a priest approaching him with yet another wooden bowl.

 

“No.” He shook his head, pleading, his words muffled by the rag in his mouth. His cheeks were burning with humiliation when the priest merely knelt beside him, tipping the contents of the bowl right over his scarred flesh.

 

Fire exploded across his skin, his mind blanking as he screamed and screamed, seeing white as he thrashed against the priests’ iron grip.

 

It was pain like he had never felt before, hot and cold all at once, stealing the very breath from his lungs even as he screamed and fought like an animal, agony burning through his nerves.

 

“Do you see? Do you see how the holy water burns them? They are unnatural!”

 

The priest’s words pierced his ears as he lay there trembling, fight drained from his body.

 

Junmyeon wanted to scream his protests but all his mind could comprehend was the blinding pain searing across his shoulder, all the way through his body.

 

He could only squeeze his eyes shut and pray as he was hoisted to his feet in the wake of the silence and the platform creaked beneath his feet, too loud.

 

His vision danced with black spots as he was led over to the noose, his feet almost refusing to carry him.

 

The noose was lowered, draped around his neck, the rope rough against his skin and he could dimly hear Baekhyun and Yixing screaming.

 

I’m sorry, he tried to say when he locked eyes with Yixing, his brother half rising from the ground, staring at him in hopeless terror.

 

Baekhyun was restrained by the Head Priest, screaming his head off at the balcony.

 

Junmyeon wished that it could be more peaceful, if it had to end this way. He hoped that it would be painless.

 

“Oh dear. It looks like I might have interrupted something important.”

 

A deep smooth voice filled his ears and the priests at his side yelped, scattering.

 

The rough hands holding him in place had vanished and Junmyeon opened his eyes to see a man as tall as Yifan holding him upright.

 

The noose was carefully released from around his throat, the rag pulled from between his lips.

 

All eyes were on him and the mysterious man.

 

Junmyeon could only stare.

 

The man was handsome, his hair dark but tinted with hints of copper. He was smiling, as if the execution amused him and his hand was warm where it rested against Junmyeon’s elbow.

 

“Is this how you treat your royalty here? Sentenced without even a trial?”

 

He was addressing the High Priest but his eyes never left Junmyeon’s face, soft and gentle.

 

Junmyeon’s eyes flickered to the phoenix pinned at the collar of the man’s navy coat and his blood froze in his veins.

 

A white magician.

 

A white magician was holding him, staring at him, in the flesh.

 

He had never met any white magician before, much less one this young, with such an intense gaze.

 

“He is tainted, Your Grace. Half sunlight, half shadow, impure. We cannot have such a king, much less one who schemed to murder his own father.”

 

The High Priest’s tone was silky as he leaned against the balcony, beady eyes surveying the magician.

 

Junmyeon made a whimpering sound at the accusation and shook his head mutely.

 

A hand smoothed over his still burning shoulder and he flushed, ducking his head as the pain dribbled away.

 

The magician was cocking his head, elegant eyebrows raised.

 

“Oh? Was your last king not all shadow? Was he not a fair and just ruler?”

 

“He was a liar and enchanted us all. A creature from the depths who married our beloved princess to become king.”

 

That was enough for Junmyeon to find his tongue.

 

“Don’t you dare-,” Junmyeon squirmed, wanting desperately to rip the priest’s tongue from his mouth.

 

Father had given up his life to save them.

 

He would not stand for the lies that the priest spilled from his wicked tongue.

 

The white magician cut him off, somehow even more amused than before.

 

“You cross yourself, Priest. If your king had been such a creature, would the slaying of such creatures not be hailed as heroic? If the crown prince had truly plotted to end his father’s life as you say, he should be a hero, no?”

 

The High Priest sputtered but the magician continued on.

 

“Yet you called him a half breed, a monster when he could not have chosen what he was born as, only the path he walked.”

 

Golden eyes swept over Junmyeon’s face and Junmyeon shivered a little.

 

“I felt it when the gate was opened, in the middle of the night. How strange, I thought, for the king to reopen the portal when he had sworn to my parents, that he would never return.”

 

“But the energy was different. It was… tainted, as you say. Not completely shadow but not sunlight either.”

 

Junmyeon felt his body tense when the magician laid his eyes upon Yixing, still sprawled out on the ground. His gaze lingered on his brother’s exposed feet and Yixing stiffened too, drawing them into his robes.

 

“And one could say, that this is an opportunity for the temple, could we not?”

 

The magician pulled his gaze back to Junmyeon and a shiver ran over the prince. He squirmed a little when a large hand traced over the ugly scar in his shoulder.

 

“With the princes out of the way, the palace falls to the temple?”

 

With a wave of his hands, the chains fell from Junmyeon’s arms and he stumbled, nearly falling off the platform in his haste to get to Yixing.

 

“Are you alright?” he gasped, tugging the soggy rag from his brother’s lips. Yixing nodded, clinging to him as well as he could with his arms still bound at his back.

 

The white magician stepped off the platform gracefully, his eyes pinned onto Yixing as Junmyeon cradled him close.

 

Before he could get to the princes however, several things happened at once.

 

The people surrounding the courtyard screamed and pointed and Junmyeon screamed too, his heart flying to his mouth.

 

The High Priest had Baekhyun in his grasp, his brother twisting and shrieking like a banshee.

 

“What do you think you are doing?” There was a waver in the magician’s voice as he watched Baekhyun struggle in the High Priest’s arms, held high above the balcony.

 

The High Priest’s voice was eerily calm as he surveyed the horrified crowd.

 

“What do you think?”

 

Junmyeon lurched to his feet, his blood roaring in his ears as Baekhyun teetered dangerously, writhing like an eel in the High Priest’s arms.

 

“Don’t-,” he cried out, flinging his arms out.

 

As if in slow motion, Baekhyun shrieked and toppled from the balcony, pushed off by the very man who had sworn oaths to the temple to be pure and kind.

 

The people screamed even as the white magician flung out his hand, a blast of magic exploding from his fingertips to wrap gently around the falling prince.

 

A figure dashed out of the crowd towards them, arms held out to catch Baekhyun and Junmyeon could have cried with relief.

 

“Yifan!” He stumbled towards him as Baekhyun floated closer and closer towards the ground.

 

But before he could reach them, the bubble wavered and Junmyeon yelped, his blood running cold.

 

There was a flurry of movement, priests fleeing as their robes rustled in the wind.

 

The magician made a choked noise, the magic surrounding Baekhyun flickering rapidly.

 

His eyes were blazing with fury when he doubled over, one hand pressed to his side.

 

“You blasphemous-.”

 

Baekhyun screamed when the bubble went out and he free fell the rest of the way, slamming hard into Junmyeon’s arms.

 

Pain blossomed up his injured shoulder and Junmyeon cursed, biting down on his lower lip so hard that he tasted blood in his mouth. He wobbled and fell, twisting so that he cushioned Baekhyun with his own body.

 

“Hyung!” Baekhyun was crying so hard that his tears soaked into Junmyeon’s robes, his little arms flung around his brother’s neck so tightly that Junmyeon could hardly breathe.

 

“You’re okay,” he managed to croak out as spots danced in his eyes.

 

There were hands on him, Yifan’s concerned face appearing in his spotty vision as he carefully pried Baekhyun from his body.

 

“Are you alright, Your Highness?”

 

Baekhyun was wriggling, trying to get free so that he could get back to Junmyeon but Yifan held him fast, trying to shush him as Junmyeon tried to support himself.

 

“I think-,” he grimaced, his shoulder protesting when he managed to sit up on one arm.

 

“I think I’m going to faint.”

 

-

 

Yixing squirmed in his chains, crying out when Junmyeon collapsed.

 

His eyes caught on the magician, who swayed as if he might follow, deep red blood trickling from his side.

 

The magician waved his hand weakly and his chains vanished.

 

The people were gathering closer, murmuring spreading through the crowd as Yixing tried to drag himself to his feet.

 

Junmyeon was curled up on the ground, his eyes closed and for one terrifying moment, Yixing thought he was dead.

 

He stumbled, gasping through the agony shooting up his feet before falling to his knees beside his brother, caressing his cheek gently.

 

“Yixing hyung,” Baekhyun whined and reached out from Yifan’s arms and Yixing took him almost automatically, hugging him close.

 

Yifan was gone before he could say anything, moving to support the magician who was limping towards them, his face ashen. His lips were pressed together in suppressed fury as he yanked out the dagger stabbed deep into his side, dropping it with a clank.

 

Blood poured from the wound, dark red and staining the magician’s navy coat.

 

“It appears that the temple here is more corrupt than I thought,” he said calmly and Yixing clutched Baekhyun close, suddenly even more frightened.

 

“I- I’m sorry,” he tried but the magician waved him away, his gaze falling onto the unconscious Junmyeon.

 

“There will be a mess to clean up when he wakes. Send the people away and inform them that the crown prince will make a statement when he has recovered. I trust your palace guards have not yet deserted you?”

 

Yixing shook his head.

 

He was in awe of the magician, even as Yifan helped him indoors, with Junmyeon slung over his back.

 

The maids were silent as they drew him a bath, fleeing the moment he pulled the robes over his feet to step into the water.

 

He shed his robes, grimacing as the scented water stung his injured feet and chafe marks on his wrists.

 

There was a knock on the door.

 

“Come in,” he said without thinking, wondering if it was Baekhyun.

 

His brother refused to part from him.

 

Yifan had to gently coax him away, promising that Yixing would return after his bath.

 

He turned away to soap himself, when he saw the figure standing frozen in the doorway out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Oh- Yifan!” Yixing yelped and ducked beneath the lip of the tub, his cheeks flushing beet red. He thanked the lord for the copious amounts of bubbles in the water that hid most of his body from the cobbler, preserving most of his dignity.

 

“I’m sorry.” Yifan’s cheeks were red too, as he approached the tub. He had cast his eyes away, even as he held out a little silk bag to him, “but Chanyeol asked to give this to you. He said it would help with the pain.”

 

Yixing grabbed it quickly, ducking back beneath the bubbles.

 

“I- thank you,” he murmured and something in his tone made Yifan look up, his gaze kind and gentle.

 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he said, taking a tiny step closer.

 

“It was an accident.”

 

Yixing pressed his lips together tightly.

 

Even in pain, the magician had insisted he tell him what had happened the night the the gate was opened. He confirmed that it had been completely accidental when Yixing told him he had merely danced a dance his mother had taught to him.

 

“She was a lovely woman,” he said softly, “my parents and I were very sorry to hear of her passing.”

 

Perhaps it had been the whirlwind of activity and the constant motion of everything happening but Father’s disappearance had not truly sunken in until the magician had spoken.

 

“Your Father was a good king. He would be very proud of you.”

 

“Can’t he come back?” Yixing had pleaded and the magician shook his head.

 

“It wouldn’t be wise to open the gate again. Besides, he made his choice.”

 

He could not find the words to reply, instead bowing his head to stare at the bubbles that popped between his fingers.

 

Yifan’s eyes burned as he stood and stared for a brief moment before stepping back.

 

“I should go,” he said and Yixing’s eyes snapped up to him, “I’ll see you outside.”

 

When the door had closed behind him, Yixing let himself slide beneath the water and the floodgates opened.

 

He cried himself out, letting the bath water wash away his tears before he rose, wrapping a bathrobe around himself.

 

The little silk satchel that Yifan had given him was still sitting on the ledge of the tub, where he had left it and he grabbed it before leaving the water.

 

He left wet footsteps all over the floor as he padded out, wincing.

 

  the silk pouch, he turned it over, a little pot of cream falling into his palm.

 

“It’s for your feet.” Yixing’s heard jerked up in surprise. When Yifan said outside, he thought he had meant in Junmyeon’s chambers.

 

But the cobbler was standing in his closet, leaning against the entryway to the bathroom.

 

“Oh.” Yixing turned the pot over and over in his hand, unsure of what to say.

 

They had never finished their conversation the other day, of what had happened between Yixing and the underworld prince and what would become of Yifan and him.

 

Yifan cocked his head and held out his hand, a little hesitant.

 

“May I?”

 

Yixing dropped the pot into his hand wordlessly, splaying his fingers over Yifan’s other palm.

 

Yifan’s eyes burned as he led him over to a little bench in the closet.

 

Yixing had to fight down a blush when the cobbler went down on one knee, unscrewing the lid of the pot.

 

“The High Priest has been captured,” he said as he dipped his fingers into the cream, catching up one of Yixing’s ankles.

 

Yixing had to fight down the urge to draw his leg back under his robes as his scarred feet were exposed, speaking as calmly as he could.

 

“Yes?”

 

“The guards are rounding up the rest as we speak.” Yifan ducked his head, his touch gentle as he began to rub the cream into the soles of his feet.

 

The cream tingled pleasantly against his skin and the aching, burning pain began to fade. He was almost disconcerted, having grown so used to his feet aching that he had forgotten what it felt like to walk without his feet constantly protesting.

 

“Yifan,” he started, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

 

Yifan’s eyes were pools of honey when he looked up at him, his gaze soft.

 

“What for?” he replied, “I wasn’t able to stop the prince from enchanting you. Nor was I able to even stop the priests from taking you into custody.”

 

Yixing sighed, reaching down to curl fingers around Yifan’s wrist.

 

“Don’t be like that.” He turned his hand over, pressing his lips to the inside of his wrist tenderly.

 

“I-, you’ve stayed. Even after my infidelity, after the accusations of witchcraft and black magic. You stayed even when you had no reason to anymore.”

 

Yifan stiffened and his tone was almost angry when he spoke.

 

“Don’t I?”

 

He rose to his full height, practically towering over Yixing.

 

“Have I not made my feelings towards you clear, Your Highness?”

 

Yixing’s heart dropped.

 

“Yifan, I’ve betrayed your faith. I’m not deserving-.”

 

“It isn’t always about you, is it? Your Highness? You wanted me to stay and I did.”

 

Yixing coloured, his fingers twisting in his lap.

 

“What do you want of me, Your Highness? I will serve you-.” Yifan’s tone had turned pleading and Yixing hated it.

 

“No. I- I don’t want you to cower like you are less than me,” he snapped, catching Yifan’s hand.

 

He tugged him closer, until the cobbler was eye level with him.

 

“Yifan, I didn’t want you to leave and I still don’t. I know you love me. And I you. But the last time we spoke you-,” he blinked a little, “you acted as if you wanted to leave. You were hurt.”

 

“I thought I’d lost you for good then.”

 

Yifan shook his head, his amber eyes burning into him.

 

“I was angry, Your Highness. I was hurt and upset. But I’ve had time to think, especially with everything that’s been going on.”

 

His hand trembled a little when he cupped Yixing’s cheek and Yixing leaned almost unconsciously into the touch.

 

“I’m more afraid of living without you.”

 

“Oh,” Yixing breathed.

 

They were so close now that Yifan’s breath was brushing over his lips. Anticipation was building in his chest as Yifan leaned even closer, until they were almost touching.

 

Yixing’s fingers clenched in his lap when Yifan finally kissed him properly, his eyes fluttering shut as a wave of emotion swept over him. He fisted his hands into Yifan’s shirt, tugging him closer.

 

It was a kiss unlike anything he had ever felt before.

 

Kai’s lips had never invoked such happiness or love within him.

 

“Yifan, I-.”

 

He was stopped by the closet doors slamming open.

 

“That is very inappropriate.”

 

The magician was standing in the doorway, arms folded, lips pinched. He glowered when Yifan backed away, going red in the face.

 

Yixing flushed pink and picked himself up from the bench, stumbling and nearly tripping over the little pot of cream on the floor.

 

“We were just-, talking,” he finished lamely when the magician raised his eyebrows.

 

“Your brother won’t be very happy about that,” he commented when Yixing passed him, pulling his bathrobe tighter around his body.

 

“I-, is he awake?”

 

-

 

The magician was far more handsome that Junmyeon had expected.

 

He was there, sitting by his bedside, still dressed in his bloodstained robes when he awoke, eyes burning into him.

 

“Oh, you’re awake,” he said pleasantly when Junmyeon shifted, the covers slipping to pool around his waist when he sat up.

 

Junmyeon did not know what to say. There was a strange man in his bed chamber for gods’ sake and it was highly inappropriate.

 

“I-, are you alright?” he stuttered, eyes drawn to the stain on the man’s right side.

 

The magician grimaced, making a face.

 

“Your temple is far more corrupt than I thought it was,” he said by way of answer and Junmyeon’s face paled.

 

He pushed the covers away, swinging his legs off the bed.

 

“What did they do to you?”

 

The magician shrugged, easily catching him by the wrist when he wobbled.

 

“Put a knife through my side. But that never killed anyone so, I’m fine.”

 

“They did what?” Junmyeon had to sit down again. It was against the law to attack a white magician and often suicidal as they were the most powerful beings in the land.

 

“The High Priest has already been captured and now resides in the dungeons and the guards are now rounding up the priests that had been under his control. Yifan is very efficient.”

 

“Your brother is in the bath and Baekhyun.” The magician pointed a little and Junmyeon turned to see his youngest brother curled up on the bed, fast asleep. He laughed, a little wobbly as he climbed back onto the bed to Baekhyun’s hair.

 

“Whatever shall I do?” he despaired as he drew Baekhyun into his lap, cuddling him close. Baekhyun stirred awake, mumbling a soft ‘hyung’ before falling back asleep.

 

The white magician shrugged.

 

“You are the king now. Whatever you want?”

 

Junmyeon turned to him, wishing he had his confidence.

 

“I’m not ready to be king. There was so much Father had to teach me and now he’s gone. He’s truly gone.”

 

His tears dripped into Baekhyun’s hair and his brother snuffled grumpily, waking up fully.

 

“Don’t cry, hyung,” he mumbled, squirming up to sit properly in his lap, “don’t cry.”

 

The white magician was watching him as he hugged his brother close, sniffling.

 

“I’ll leave you to compose yourself. Your brother and Yifan are taking too long.”

 

Junmyeon nodded, ducking his head as the magician vanished out the door, Baekhyun still patting his cheeks lightly to wipe away the falling tears.

 

“Will Papa come home?” Baekhyun asked quietly when the magician was gone. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and Junmyeon pulled it out before he could chew on it.

 

“No, Hyunnie. Papa’s gone to find Mama. It’s just us now,” he murmured, swallowing the ball of tears that threatened to rise up in his throat. It had not quite sunken in until now, that Father was well and truly gone.

 

The gateway was sealed. He was not coming home. They did not even know if he was still alive.

 

Baekhyun looked at him and gulped.

 

“Why’d he leave us here?” he sniffled, trying very hard not to cry. Junmyeon smoothed his hair, biting down hard on his lower lip.

 

“He had to, love. He had to.”

 

Baekhyun buried his face in his chest.

 

“I won’t cry,” he mumbled determinedly and Junmyeon laughed a little, watery and weak when coldness seeped into his shirt despite that declaration.

 

They stayed for a while before he could finally muster the courage to get out of bed and face the people.

 

“Junmyeon?”

 

The bedroom door opened and Yixing stepped inside, clad in a white tunic and neat brown pants. He was walking straighter than he had ever done in the past weeks and Junmyeon could not help himself.

 

He flung his arms around his brother and squeezed him into a hug.

 

“I’m okay, hyung,” Yixing murmured into his ear and he exhaled, squeezing him a little tighter.

 

“I’m glad,” he mumbled, “I’m so glad.”

 

The kingdom welcomed Junmyeon as their king, not without some hesitation, as he had predicted.

 

But with the white magician proclaiming his wishes to stay for an undetermined amount of time with several glances in Junmyeon’s direction, they were settled.

 

As per his father’s wishes in the little diary, Junmyeon let their ancestry be known, no matter how shameful the secret was to him.

 

His father had been kind and gentle and a fair and just ruler. The people had no fault with him and he hoped they would be just as kind to him when he ascended the throne.

 

The temple was overturned and renewed, the High Priest and his followers exiled following Junmyeon’s orders and Chanyeol, the white magician, had been making remarks about building his own following in the old temple.

 

Junmyeon could find no fault in that suggestion, giving the magician a full run of the place.

 

He had strange tingly feelings, like butterflies in his stomach whenever Chanyeol appeared out of nowhere in the palace, often just watching him from afar.

 

He felt that now, as the back of his neck prickled like he was being watched.

 

Junmyeon forced himself to stay focused for long enough to dismiss the servants working on the repainting of Father’s chambers before turning around to look in the magician’s direction.

 

“You’ll make a great king,” Chanyeol remarked when he strode towards him, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants.

 

He was leaning against a marble pillar, his eyes raking up and down Junmyeon’s body as he drew closer.

 

Junmyeon shivered a little, his stomach swooping at the attention.

 

“Is there a problem at the temple, Your Grace?” he asked, inclining his head.

 

“No. Everything’s taken care of. Yifan’s been doing very well with all the redecorations.”

 

“Oh.” Junmyeon swallowed his surprise, “does he intend to become a priest?”

 

He was not sure how that would work with Yixing. They slowly sliding into something resembling a stable relationship, with Yifan visiting every other day to bring flowers. He still made shoes but Yixing rarely danced anymore.

 

Even the white magician’s powers could not erase his trauma and the scars that the unholy magic had left on his feet. They no longer pained him but the scars would remain for the rest of his life.

 

Junmyeon himself still bore the marks from where the weapon and magic of the Black king had touched him.

 

“No. Can you imagine Yifan as a priest?” Chanyeol laughed and Junmyeon smiled, shaking his head.

 

“He merely wishes to stay closer to the castle. Having to travel every day to see his beau is taxing on him.”

 

“Speaking of which.” Junmyeon ducked his head when Chanyeol took a step closer.

 

“When will His Highness find his princess?”

 

His cheeks burned and he reached back to scratch the back of his neck.

 

“I haven’t thought about it,” he murmured softly. Chanyeol’s gaze made him blush and he looked away, pushing away the forbidden thoughts that he only let himself think of late in the night.

 

“Sure, you have,” Chanyeol smirked and his shoulder bumped against Junmyeon when he brushed past him, “get some sleep, Your Highness.”

 

Junmyeon bowed his head, squeezing his hands into fists when he heard soft giggling coming from above.

 

“What are you laughing about?” he asked when he looked up to see Baekhyun leaning over the banister, smiling at him.

 

Baekhyun looked as if he had been running, his cheeks ruddy and red. But his eyes were bright with laughter and it was enough to make Junmyeon smile.

 

“Nothing,” his brother said breezily and Junmyeon shook his head, watching him run away, his loose tunic blowing in the wind.

 

“Go to bed, Baekhyun!”

 

He yelled after him, smiling as he continue to wander the halls aimlessly, nodding and smiling at the servants when he passed them.

 

His feet brought him just outside of the palace and he found himself standing at Mother’s headstone.

 

To his surprise, Yixing was there too, kneeling before the grave. He was carefully arranging flowers on the headstone, so concentrated on his work that he did not notice him until Junmyeon was touching his shoulder with a gentle hand.

 

“Oh, Junmyeon,” he smiled, gesturing for him to join.

 

Junmyeon knelt beside him, touching the delicate flowers. He could recognise them as the same ones that Yifan had brought earlier that morning.

 

“Does Yifan know you’re decorating Mother’s grave with his flowers?” he asked and Yixing smiled lightly.

 

“He brought them for her, actually.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Junmyeon bumped his shoulder and his brother turned to look at him with a serene smile.

 

“Do you think Father is up there with her?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

 

Yixing bowed his head.

 

“I hope so,” he said, nudging a stray flower back into place, “he would hate to be alive in that place.”

 

Because there was no body, there was nothing to bury, no grave or headstone to mourn at.

 

They would never know if their father was alive or already dead at the hands of the Black king, the man who had been his other half.

 

“But I know he would be very proud of you now, brother.”

 

He bumped his shoulder back and Junmyeon laughed, blinking away the tears.

 

The sky rumbled and soft rain began pattering onto the ground around the two brothers, the clouds sliding away just in time for the moon to spill its rays upon Mother’s headstone.

 

“Oh, look,” Yixing’s eyes were sparkling with tears, as he nudged Junmyeon, “Mother’s here.”