It’s on a day when morning errands have taken him far away from the warmth of the hearths and Himchan’s smile, a day when petitioners have been endless and varied in their complaints, that Hongbin stops just before sneaking into the kitchens late that evening because he hears the word fey.

For once, it’s not Daehyun. “I heard they discovered one of the Folk in the next village over.” Youngjae’s hushed whisper is barely audible, but Hongbin knows by now how to silence his own breathing so that he can hear. “Living among them as a carpenter, just like the humans. They say the things she made never got the rot.”

“How did they know what she was?” That’s Junhong’s voice, young and credulous. “What did they do when they found out?”

If Youngjae answers the second question, he doesn’t do it with words, but when he speaks again his tone is exaggerated and important in the way it always is when he’s explaining something to his dongsaengs. “Ah, Junhonggie, you can always tell the fey, don’t you know? They never pass fully. This one, she was a wood elf, her neighbor saw those pointed ears and he knew.”

“Are there others?”

“Witches,” Sunhwa’s voice comes suddenly. “They say they’ve always got a birthmark in the shape of their familiar. And kelpies, their true form comes out near water.”

“Brownies have houses so clean no human could manage.” Youngjae’s words shake with poorly contained laughter.

There’s a thud, and Sunhwa says, “Don’t tease the boy.”

“Okay, okay…” Youngjae sobers. “Faeries. They’re the ones who pass worst, they’re nasty bug creatures in their true form and they can’t hide all their other eyes. They’ve always got extra spots for them like great holes in their face. And they glow.”

“They gl--" Sunhwa starts indignantly, about to tell Youngjae off again, but Junhong interrupts her.

“Faeries,” he breathes, and Hongbin can just picture his eyes wide with awe in his youthful face. “Like the one who cursed the prince?”

There’s a long hush, and then a new voice joins the conversation. “I think that’s enough,” Hakyeon says firmly and more quietly than Hongbin has ever heard him speak. “Faeries are not to be trusted, and you don’t need to be knowing how to find them.”

Hongbin leaves quickly, before anyone can find him lurking in the shadow of the door.

---

Months have passed since he last dreamed of his naming day. He was too young to remember, of course, but the stories have long since passed into legend, vivid with enough detail that a child with an overactive imagination and little else to do could paint the scene almost as if it were real. Hongbin had been a lonely boy.

It starts in the throne room he hasn’t seen since the last time he visited the main castle, festive colors draped along the tops of the walls and throngs of guests filling the bottom. His mother and father sit on their twin thrones, resplendent in their finery, faces unlined like in his very first memories of them. Two young girls, renderings of what his sisters may have looked like before Hongbin was old enough to truly learn their features, peer into the gilded bassinet at their feet. They’re looking at him, he knows, but swathed in the sheets has always been merely a vaguely flesh colored, infant shaped blob that Hongbin can never quite make out from his dream self’s vantage point somewhere in a high corner of the chamber.

The ceremony has already been completed; it’s not the point of this dream, anyway. The guests are filing up one by one to offer their blessings to the prince. The humans give items in beautiful wrappings, hobbyhorses and tiny outfits made of the highest quality fabrics and a little golden box that Hongbin still keeps his small treasures in to this day. The gifts of the fey Folk, for there are a number in attendance, are less…tangible. A quick wit, one whispers as she touches his forehead. Ageless beauty, another intones. Hongbin’s never known how he hears them from so far away, nor how in his dreams he understands the fey tongue.

What happens next, though, always happens in his own language. The room is filled with a sudden darkness, he knows from the tales, but somehow he can still see clear as day the figure that emerges, seeming almost too tall to fit under the high vaulted ceiling. Sometimes in this dream infant Hongbin is restless, fidgety. Sometimes he is still and calm. This time, he begins to wail as soon as the figure speaks.

“What a lovely little gathering.” The voice is endless, booming, resounding within the confines of Hongbin’s head even though he knows this whole scene easily fits between his ears, and more. “So nice to see everyone enjoying themselves without me.” The darkness billows, flashing and crackling with shards of lightning.

“Heechulssi, we didn’t--" Hongbin’s mother starts, but Heechul strides forward, cutting her off. Their figure shrinks until it’s small enough to infant Hongbin’s cheek with a surprisingly gentle motion.

“What’s his name?” Hongbin’s father opens his mouth, closing it again when Heechul continues, “No, don’t tell me, I don’t care.” They spin, and their next proclamation reaches every corner of the hall. “And neither should he, because I declare he shall never be able to speak his own name, nor anyone else’s, nor any other word in all the languages of the world!” There’s a clap of thunder that drowns out the instantaneous clamoring of the guests.

In all of Hongbin’s dreams before this Heechul has been nearly as amorphous as his own tiny infant body, long-limbed and terrifying with the shapes of great wings discernible as darker smudges in the dimness surrounding them but otherwise featureless, a shadowy wight that fades abruptly away from sight after giving the proclamation. But this time, Heechul turns to Hongbin’s watching dream self just before they disappear, and smiles with sharp teeth out of Himchan’s face.

---

The next morning, Hongbin has his breakfast sent to his rooms for the first time in many weeks, brushing off Jieun’s mothering hand pressing against his forehead with concern for his health when she brings the tray. On any other day such as this, with few tasks around the castle to occupy his time, he would usually find himself meandering down to the kitchens, carefully avoiding thinking about how quickly it’s become a habit.

Today, however, he holes himself up in the great library, pulls down tome after dusty tome about the people of the fey and curls into one of the overstuffed armchairs. He skims through the entries, dragons and kappas and sphinxes and a chapter on banshees that reads suspiciously like a checklist description of Daehyun, until he gets to the page titled Faeries in flowing script and begins to read: Genderless, ageless, faeries are thus fascinated by these human concepts and often walk among mortals to learn more about them…

Pictures accompany the text, ink and watercolor illustrations of creatures with antennae and long slender limbs and one, just one, looking almost human though still impossibly tall and willowy with too many eyes set deep into its thin face. Feeling oddly ill at ease, Hongbin uses his fingertip to cover the eyes themselves, leaving only the darkness at the tops of their sockets, and thinks of Himchan, glowing even in full sunlight with shadows in the creases under his lower lids.

Hakyeon’s words whisper again through his mind. Faeries are not to be trusted.

He closes the book and tucks it under his arm, leaving the others where they are, and exits the library.

---

In the kitchens there’s a pot bubbling over the fire, there’s a smell of something savory cooking, there’s Himchan, beautiful even turned away from the door and wearing an apron covered in food stains. Superhumanly beautiful, and it’s not the first time Hongbin’s thought it but it is the first time he’s truly understood what it means.

Then Himchan moves to face him and Hongbin resists the urge to shield himself from being blinded, raising the book reflexively instead. Himchan’s gaze drops to its title, eyes widening minutely before he recovers with a laugh that sounds brittle to Hongbin’s finely tuned ears. “Highness, are you feeling better then?”

Hongbin is as silent as always as he crosses the room, and he’s not certain he would choose to speak now even if he could. Himchan backs away, just slightly, when he thumps the book onto the trestle table and opens to the page he’s been holding. “Faeries?” he asks with exaggerated casualness. “Did you want to hear some faerie tales? I’m afraid I don’t have any for you--"

He stops when Hongbin pokes a finger into his chest sharply. Hongbin does it again for good measure, taps the picture of the nearly human-looking faerie with his other hand, pokes a third time. Himchan can’t pretend he doesn’t understand the message, and he’s always been fair but now his face completely drains of color. “Hongbin,” he whispers, eyes very round and dark, “please don’t send me away.”

Hongbin shakes his head, but doesn’t soften the stern expression he can feel falling across his features. He gestures wide, at the book and around the kitchen and toward himself, face drawing tighter at how much easier it would be to ask why, why all this, why are you here? if he could just speak. He of all people should have every reason to send a faerie away.

Himchan sits. Hongbin doesn’t, and there’s a moment where Himchan gives him a pleading look before shaking his head, exhaling heavily. “…You’re kind of a legend, you know,” he says after a beat. Hongbin tilts his chin up, challenging. “You are. Well, you and Heechulnim.”

He continues even though Hongbin startles violently at the name. “Heechulnim’s always had a reputation among our folk for their…temper. But what they did to you…well. That’s why I’m here.”

And Hongbin can hear the crack tracing down his heart, because he’s been reading to prepare himself but it certainly wasn’t in preparation for this. He’d been thinking, vaguely, more about how to make the castle safe for one of the fey - whether iron or silver might burn Himchan’s skin, or if he couldn’t cross running water. (Or if Hongbin kissed him, would he turn back into his true form, like they say happened in Silla to Queen Amber and her consort Victoria, who the tales claim used to be a frog. He’d been thinking, not so vaguely, a lot about kissing Himchan.)

But he had never thought about something like this, about Himchan coming to him speaking of the creature of his very nightmares, saying nim like Heechul is someone he admires and the only reason that makes sense is that it’s to torment Hongbin further. Torment in what way, he’s not sure, but he’s not waiting to find out. Faeries are not to be trusted. He spins on his heel and makes to leave.

“Wait!” Himchan grabs his arm, faster than any human can move, lets go again when Hongbin flinches away. “Wait,” he repeats, more softly now. Hongbin doesn’t look at him (don’t meet their gaze, isn’t that the first warning every child hears about his kind, the lying, manipulative fey who hook their claws into you with bucktoothed smiles and supernaturally delicious jjigae and stupid, stupid beautiful eyes), but he stays.

“That came out wrong,” Himchan says, adds, “he feels bad about it,” like that makes anything better. “But he can’t undo it, our magic doesn’t work like that. We can’t take back our spells. That’s always been a problem for Heechulnim since he, uh, does a lot of stuff when he’s mad. Um. You know.” Hongbin nods drily, yes, I certainly do.

“So he wanted me to come and fix it.” Hongbin’s heart patches itself up a tiny bit at that, heals a little further with his next words, “I wanted to fix it.” He glances up to find Himchan watching him, and even if it’s for his own good he can’t break their gaze when Himchan looks like he’s begging Hongbin to believe him as he continues, “I’ve tried everything, but I’m not so good with the big flashy curse magic, that’s Heechulnim’s specialty. I’m better at the little stuff, hearth and home charms, keeping bathwater warm and things.” Always cooking roast perfectly, Hongbin thinks. He still hasn’t asked Hakyeon how Himchan always knows where to send his little baskets of treats.

“And I’m running out of ideas,” Himchan admits. “I’ve tried enchanted tea, magic apples, put all kinds of spell-canceling herbs in your food--" Hongbin glares at that “--ah, sorry, but nothing went wrong, right?” Hongbin purses his lips.

“Oh,” Himchan says, staring at his mouth. “But I didn’t - I wonder - can I try one more thing? Please?”

Hongbin shouldn’t agree, he knows this. Faeries are not to be trusted, he knows this. But he finds himself nodding his head anyway, because this faerie is Himchan and he’s still got a smudge of flour on his cheek and he’s Hongbin’s first real friend.

He doesn’t really know what he’s expecting when he squeezes his eyes shut, except that he doesn’t want to see it coming. He expects that it will hurt, maybe, or that he’ll open them again and discover he’s been turned into a frog.

What he doesn’t expect is a soft pressure against his lips, light and fleeting and Hongbin’s eyes fly wide, barely catching Himchan backing the final step away. Himchan’s hand comes up to rub sheepishly at the side of his neck. Hongbin opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

"Ah," Himchan almost-whispers. "I thought - Heechulnim is melodramatic but they’re a big softie at heart so - maybe true love's kiss--"

"What," Hongbin mouths, but Himchan's still going, voice getting louder with embarrassment.

"--and I hoped you felt the same way but I guess it was just me, ah, I'm sorry, I'll keep looking for a way to break your curse--"

"Hush," Hongbin croaks.

"--sorry again, you can just forget this happened, I can leave the castle if you're not comfortable with me around any more--"

"Himchan, hush." Finally, blessedly, he does, if only for a few seconds.

Then, "My name," he whispers, eyes wide. "You said--"

This time it's Hongbin who leans in. Himchan's lips keep moving against his for a brief moment until they still and Himchan tilts his head to slot their mouths together more comfortably. When Hongbin draws back Himchan's dimples are on full display and he knows his own must be too. "True love's kiss, huh?" he teases, voice still hoarse from years of disuse.

Himchan's ears pink, all the way to the tiny, barely noticeable points at their tips. "Shut up."

"Not any more," Hongbin replies, and pulls him in again.

---

“I didn’t think there were male faeries,” Hongbin muses later, when Himchan’s making dinner and Hongbin is finally, after months, watching him without fear of being caught staring. “Or female, for that matter.”

“Hm?” Himchan hums, distracted as he chops vegetables and moves them to the pot to cook.

“Um, the book said faeries were genderless, but I’ve always thought you were a man…”

“Oh.” Himchan’s voice is laced with gentle amusement now. “Well, you never really asked, did you? I’m not. Like you said, none of us are, though sometimes we pick one form or another.”

Hongbin feels himself flush with remorse for assuming, and his voice goes even quieter than it has been, still not used to speaking aloud. “What, um, should I call you then? ‘They’ and ‘them’ instead of ‘he’ and ‘him’? And, and what instead of ‘my boyfriend’?”

Himchan stops and puts the knife slowly down, turning to him. “O-oh. Um.” Hongbin looks away, fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth, only meeting Himchan’s gaze when he’s forced to by Himchan stooping to drop a kiss on the tip of his nose. When Himchan pulls back, Hongbin swears their eyes are actually sparkling. “Royal consort sounds nice,” they tease. Hongbin pushes their shoulder lightly.

“’They’ and ‘them’ is fine,” Himchan relents. “And you can say whatever you want instead of ‘your boyfriend’.”

“My Himchan,” Hongbin tries, admiring the way Himchan’s cheeks glow even brighter when they blush.