The glint of the sword reflected itself in the young king’s eyes, slashing the ethereal irises with the blood that dripped down its edge; the king’s own blood and, in its own sense, a cruel prediction of his fate which would soon be cut short. Nonetheless, the man did not turn his head away from his killer. Even kneeling at the enemy’s mercy, his back remained broad and proud - the sign of the legacy passed down to him by his royal upbringing.

 

Jung Yunho - his life had been anything. but easy. He was supposed to be born into a life where nothing else, but his ability to bring food to the table, would’ve been expected of him. The simple life of a peasant, working to maintain the comfortable lives of those perched upon the higher branches of society.

 

His fate had taken him down a different road, however.

 

Born into a family of simple farmers, there he was, flaunting expensive garbs (by now, they were cut up and covered in dirt and blood) to show his rank, for Jung Yunho was the king of Elenthia.

 

“Perhaps the crown cannot rightfully sit upon my head,” his husky voice echoed in a strong baritone, “but what my blood may lack, my heart makes up for. It beats for the welfare of others, not mine. Is that not something you should already be aware of, your highness?”

 

The other’s chest heaved, flourishing with the thorny vines of anger and rage. “It was never your place to discover any of that, filthy peasant!”

 

He would finally regain what was his; the life that was torn away from him the moment he was out of the safety of his mother’s womb; the recognition that his own person truly deserved; the crown of power on his head and the cloak of authority upon his shoulders - his title as king.

 

The man raised his sword. “May Ugnias burn you to ashes for your sins.”

 

But Yunho was the king now - his heart beat for others and not for himself. He had no right to be selfish. Therefore, he had no right to die.

 

His eyes narrowed as the blade flew across the thick air and-

 

The shrill and utterly annoying ring of the phone echoed through the room and the man sitting by his desk wasted no time in grabbing the evil device.

 

“I swear to God, Min,” he grit his teeth, “if you call me again, I will go to the bathroom and hang myself with the rubber hose of the shower head and then you’ll never get your ing manuscript, ever!”

 

For a moment there was utter silence on the other side of the line.

 

“Try that and I’ll have the paramedics breaking down your door in two minutes,” his editor calmly replied, most likely already used to his outbursts when he was nearing his deadlines.

 

Jaejoong scoffed into the phone. “I’m hanging up.”

 

“I’m calling 911.”

 

He heaved a tired sigh and pushed his laptop away, falling onto the desk with a protesting grumble, but decided to hold onto the phone for a while longer. The author was nearly certain that his editor would do as he said. After all, Shim Changmin was the Devil in mortal form.

 

“I just can’t do it,” he ran a hand over his face as he lay over the table, staring outside. The sun shone brightly, its rays landing on the thick patches of snow outside, making it sparkle like diamond dust. The view was enchanting and it seemed so flawless and effortless. Something enchanting was what Jaejoong needed; an enchanting world. Currently, he had nothing. “I know I said that countless times before, but... it never seemed like such a pointless battle.”

 

Frustrated mumbling on the other side of the line brought his attention back to his editor. “I’ve kicked your along the way for years now, Jaejoong. I know how your head works and you’ve probably been staring at the monitor all day and night, haven’t you?” After a quiet, but affirmative squeak from Jaejoong, Changmin cursed. “At least go feed yourself, I don’t need you dying on me. My boss would kill me if I didn’t get the final manuscript, got it?”

 

“Right,” came an agreeing mutter.

 

“Look, stop being such a brat and get away from the laptop. I’ll talk about extending the deadline if you really need it,” his editor said in a softer tone. “Sleep on it, it’ll do your head some good. I’ll be heading over tomorrow, and I better not find your corpse on the floor.”

 

The author cracked a weak smile at this; despite the tough attitude, Jaejoong knew that his editor meant well. After all, he had been responsible for him ever since his debut, even back when his name hadn’t caused the big stirs in the newspapers and magazines that it did now.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Jaejoong replied, unsure of what else to throw into the one-sided sounding dialogue.

 

“And since when are you allowed to call me ‘Min’?” the other inquired dangerously.

 

“Shut up,” Jaejoong snorted, albeit in a much lighter tone, before hanging up.

 

Swallowing thickly, he gazed up at the falling snowflakes for a short moment before sighing and sitting up. Pushing the laptop back to its former place, Jaejoong continued gazing at the screen where, at the last unfinished sentence, the cursor kept blinking continuously; it was empty, just like his thoughts.

 

It was going to be another sleepless night.

 

░▒▓░▒▓░▒▓

 

The rustle of leaves, dancing upon loose tree branches greeted his ears before he even opened his eyes. The warm breeze tickling his skin felt welcoming; relaxing and caring, it made him wish he could remain so for just a little bit longer. Somewhere further away, probably carried to him by the wind, he could hear birds chirping as they loudly sang joyous and carefree tunes full of naive and unearthly happiness; they sang of freedom.

 

Jaejoong felt a weight being lifted from his chest by simply lying there, listening to everything around him. It felt so new and foreign, so...

 

Magical.

 

With a gasp, the young author bolted upwards and the swift action caused his head to spin. Even so, his thoughts were already swirling up a tornado inside his head as it was.

 

He was outside, sitting on the greenest patch of grass he had ever laid eyes upon, stretching for what seemed like miles in each side. Whatever troubles had disappeared because of the atmosphere in this place, were replaced by a choking panic that squeezed his chest ruthlessly.

 

Jaejoong gasped as he brought his hands to his chest, trying to force the fear out of his lungs so he could breathe. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and he forced himself to inspect his surroundings once again, to shove some sense into his mind in order to calm down.

 

He sat in a wide clearing around what seemed to be a forest, but how big, he could not say. From much further away, Jaejoong thought he could hear the sound of waves gently crashing against one another on the water’s surface - a lake or a pond, most likely. And even with his eyes taking in all that was around him, he felt lost.

 

He had never seen this place, Jaejoong was certain; he had never set foot in such a place. Were there even such places in South Korea?

 

It seemed too foreign, but how could it be. He had last been in his office, trying to work on his manuscript when...

 

He dozed off, fell asleep.

 

And he woke up here.

 

It made no sense.

 

And then Jaejoong looked beyond the patches of grass, flowers and fields stretching ahead of him. He looked further and deeper across the unfamiliar land, and looked some more. Very slowly, he felt his emotions breaking through the controlled barrier he had them in as it cracked and shuddered.

 

It could not be possible, something like this. It simply could not, because up ahead, under the bright skyline, the black haired man saw mountains. Mountains which were covered in cold snow. Then looking along them, in the far-off distance he was sure he saw more...

 

His breath heaving, he quickly reached up to pinch his arm, hard. The sharp pain brought an exclamation of surprise from him, but he was at loss when nothing happened. For Jaejoong did not bolt upright in his chair, where he thought he had fallen asleep; he did not start awake and fall off said chair, hit his foot somewhere...

 

He did not.

 

And that bothered him. He was, by no means, a stranger to fantasy, but that was all that it was - fantasy. People created the impossible to escape reality; to indulge in that, what could not be, because it lifted the tiring, daily worries of routine life and brought them somewhere far, far away. It was something that gave them happiness and colour to get through their lives. It gave them people to love, aroused emotions and feelings in them, as if the characters were real. And in a way they were, in their hearts. They all held meaning, representing something important to each and every one of them.

 

And that was as far as it was supposed to go. It was the line that was safe and reassuring. Printed on the pages of a book were only words, not real swords pointed and real people perished. As a reality on their own, many stories would be terrifying; no longer fun and entertaining.

 

And the possible reality of this made Jaejoong feel as if he was in his own nightmare.

 

His world held magical creatures, different races; a world where children were expected to wield swords and weapons at early ages, to become warriors and mages; a world where fire spitting dragons existed and where a war was raging...

 

A world that he had created, but felt like a complete stranger in.

 

Still partly certain that it was a dream (because, surely, what else could it have been) Jaejoong stood up on shaky legs and brushed his clothes down of any dirt that might’ve been sticking to them. He was in the same clothes as he remembered and then it quickly dawned on him that here they would look quite out of place and odd.

 

Gnawing on his lip in thought, the writer quickly slipped out of his jacket, for it was warm anyway, and threw it aside. Looking down at the shirt he wore, Jaejoong frowned. With a dejected sigh, he slipped it over his shoulders and ripped the ends of it, in hopes of destroying the modern look it brought with it. For better measure, he even threw it on the ground and kicked it around to have it gather some dirt and dust. Finally satisfied, he slipped it back on, hoping the dark jeans wouldn’t attract too much attention. Wiggling his sock clad feet, he decided on keeping those on, at least.

 

With a sigh and the slump of his shoulders, Jaejoong tried to decide on his next course of action. The first thing that came to mind was to find out what date it was, so he could know the events taking place... and hopefully finding the safest place to hide. Knowing all that was to happen, or had already happened, didn’t give his heart much reassurance.

 

But upon a further inspection, he came back to his first conclusion: he had no idea where he was. So he was lost in his own made-up world. Jaejoong snorted, that was on a whole new level of pathetic; it was like getting lost in your own backyard.

 

As he was about to take a step, he heard a very distinct noise. Quickly turning around, Jaejoong was faced with a man, dressed in a guard’s uniform, pointing at him a bow with an arrow ready. The problem about all of this was that the guard adorned no regular uniform, but that of the royal guard itself.

 

“Stand where you are!”

 

Out of instinct, Jaejoong quickly raised his hands, but only after he did it, did it register in his head that it was not such a good idea. After all, a swift hand movement here meant much more than on Earth. Some mages could call forth spells with simple movements and what he did was easily mistaken for a hostile movement.

 

A sharp yell left his lips when he felt an arrow imbed itself in his side and he wobbled as pain blossomed and blood ran free of his body, all very swiftly.

 

“,” Jaejoong cursed as he grabbed his side, legs giving out.

 

Before blacking out, he managed to comprehend one more thought. He definitely wasn’t dreaming.

 

░▒▓░▒▓░▒▓

 

The next time he came to, Jaejoong awoke due to loud shouting, though it appeared to be muffled and Jaejoong guessed it was coming from another room. He hissed in discomfort as every breath felt strained. Gasping, his hand quickly shot out to grasp his side, but a hand on his wrist prevented him from doing so.

 

The young man, obviously startled, quickly turned to the other occupant in the room whom he hadn’t bothered to notice.

 

The man had stark black hair, cut short on one side and left longer on the other. He had a rather round-shaped face, a well defined nose complimenting it all, along with pale-looking lips.

 

Quickly looking down at his side, Jaejoong saw a bandage over it, but shifting slightly, he knew there should’ve been more pain.

 

Mouth parting in surprise, his eyes almond shaped snapped back to the other. He took in the dark blue robes, and a scar, nearly hidden by the bangs shifted to the side, going across his right eye. Chest constricting with a wave of feelings, Jaejoong choked out, “Junsu.”

 

This appeared to startle the mage, whose name was indeed Junsu, specializing in healing magic. The man bolted from his seat and let Jaejoong’s hand go as if it was on fire. Confusion crossed the author’s face.

 

“How do you know my name?”

 

“I-” Jaejoong choked on his words and before he could answer, the door parted, inside stepping two figures.

 

“My prince, I do not think-”

 

The other figure merely raised a hand and the guard fell silent. Jaejoong’s wide eyes stared in wonder at the person in front of him and he swallowed sharply, suddenly uncertain if he should bow or show respect in some other way.

 

Before him stood Jung Yunho, crown prince and future king of Elenthia. Of course, apparently he wasn’t king yet (and that allowed Jaejoong to narrow down the year in history) but he would be, unmistakably. After all, Jaejoong wrote of it himself.

 

“And I believe you’ve thought enough already, Yoochun.”

 

Jaejoong had always described his voice to be proud; commanding and holding authority. He was strict looking, almost frighteningly so, but he was not cold hearted. And to hear it in reality, to see him with his own eyes, not simply a figure drawn by his own imagination... it left him speechless.

 

As those eyes turned to him, he froze. They were magnificent; blue and green with hints of amber brown among them, burning like hot coals. It was a trait that distinguished him from everyone else, that proved who he was.

 

A deep pain squeezed his chest at the thought when Yunho would find out that he was not...

 

The prince cleared his throat, immediately bringing the attention to him. “It seems a far fetched coincidence for you to be found near the place that I was ambushed at. Yet, still, I find myself doubtful-”

 

Jaejoong quickly pushed himself into a sitting position, shivering slightly at the cool air clinging to his shirt immediately. “Where are we?” he inquired, eyes wide. The others merely stared at him shock, at the unbelievable audacity.

 

Yoochun was the first to snap. “See here, this is the prince you are talking-”

 

The prince, however, seemed thoughtful and he raised a hand in Yoochun’s way when the guard tried to step forward. He knew he wasn’t the only one that thought the stranger to be odd. “You mean to tell me you do not know?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

Jaejoong nearly shrunk under that scrutinizing gaze. “This is important,” he pleaded, “where are we?”

 

“We are back in Litsenith,” Yunho finally said after a long pause.

 

The writer felt his lungs give out and nearly tumbled over as panic washed over his body, causing his hands to tremble. Squeezing the blanket at his sides to hide it, Jaejoong spoke in a quiet whisper. “The seventh day of the season of Runes, isn’t it?” the silence was not helping him keep his composure, “isn’t it?” Jaejoong shouted as he jumped from the bed, but the healer, Junsu, was quickly by his side when he stumbled.

 

Yunho’s lips thinned. “What of it?”

 

“You cannot be here,” Jaejoong exclaimed, face pale, “You-”

 

He stopped, Jaejoong simply stopped. What could he possibly say? The truth was out of the question, it was impossible. But he had shifted the events of the story by coming here, it appeared. And if he didn’t get prince Yunho out of the town -the town that he was not supposed to be at- he would change history itself on a drastic scale.

 

“Please, listen to me, you must leave. Your life is in danger,” he reasoned.

 

“So you are an accomplice of the ambush, aren’t you?” Yoochun sneered in anger.

 

“No! No I’m not!” the lost writer exclaimed in panic.

 

“Then how do you know this?”

 

“I-” Jaejoong’s dark, pleading gaze turned to the prince; how he wished he could convey everything that was needed for mutual understanding. But this was no game, this was all real now and he could not simply appear out of nowhere and tell the prince what to do; it did not work that way.

 

So Jaejoong bit down on his tongue and hung his head.

 

“Take him to the cells and question him later,” Yunho finally spoke and it chilled Jaejoong to the bone. They were treating him as a threat, when he was the furthest from that. If anything, he wanted, no, he needed, for Jung Yunho to be safe and alive.

 

Yoochun called the guards in by the door to Jaejoong out. He did not show any resistance, but at the last second Jaejoong’s eyes met Junsu’s and something clicked; a last resort. Tearing away from the unsuspecting guards, he ignored Yoochun’s cursing and dove past them where he clung to the surprised healer, clutching at his midnight coloured robes. Before the arms seized him, Jaejoong grasped Junsu’s hand, squeezing it with all the desperation he held inside, and, staring at those eyes, he uttered: “I am not your enemy, I only wish to help. I speak the truth!”

 

And as the mage watched how the guards forcefully shoved the fragile looking figure of the strange man out of the room, he could not contain the tremors in his chest; tremors that echoed of trust.

 

“What did he say to you?”

 

Junsu’s shaken gaze snapped to Yunho and he swallowed, slowly collecting himself. “Just some threats, nothing of importance.”

 

He felt the bitterness on his tongue from lying to his prince, but Junsu could not risk speaking of anything yet. Not until he was certain of the facts presented before him. For the stranger had spoken in his native tongue; a language that no simple mortal could ever be allowed to learn - the mystical language of the Elven.

 

The language that could not be tainted with lies.

 

░▒▓░▒▓░▒▓

 

Jaejoong felt his shoulders shaking with irrational laughter. The sound eerily echoed through the dungeons, bouncing against the cold stone floors and walls. There he was, wiping blood off his bruised lip, and he was still worrying over a ing manuscript. A manuscript which wouldn’t even matter soon, because he, and everyone else there, would die.

 

And he doubted that he could finish his book if he was dead. Briefly, he pondered if that was a good excuse not to hand in the manuscript to Changmin. But knowing him, he would probably shake Jaejoong awake in his grave and force him to finish it.

 

The laughter slowly dissolved and the shaking in his shoulders became due to silent sobs. The salty tears dripped past his chapped lips, which were turned into a pained grimace. Suddenly, more than anything, Jaejoong wished that he could return home. He would sit down and force himself to finish that manuscript with whatever it took and hand it in to Changmin on time.

 

He wished he could feel the comforting warmth of the man’s hands, anything. Anything, just so he could feel a little bit of familiarity. Something to bring him down to earth and not make him feel as if he was going insane.

 

Something that would prove he was not truly so far away from everything he knew.

 

“You know,” Jaejoong startled at the voice. He hadn’t even heard anyone come in, “criminals don’t usually shed tears over their crimes.”

 

The writer quickly turned away as he tried to subtly rub at his eyes with the back of his palm. “I never said I was one.”

 

“You spoke to me in Ancient Elven before. How do you know it?”

 

Jaejoong turned to the mage, who was standing a few feet away, most likely out of caution, from the bars of his cell. Not that Jaejoong could blame him for being careful. He was gazing at him with a tormented looking expression, torn between placing his full faith and trust in Jaejoong, and obeying his rightful lord and prince.

 

“I can not tell you such a thing,” he said with as much sincerity as he could. The Elven language was the most powerful word in their world, having the power to heal and destroy simply with its magic syllables. It was thousands years old. Jaejoong couldn’t simply say that he, a mere human, created it.

 

Junsu grit his teeth as he paced about. “And yet you ask me to trust you.”

 

“There were times when the Elven word was the strongest promise among the living,” came the soft whisper of the prisoner.

 

“Those times have long since passed.”

 

“I know,” he answered.

 

Silence enveloped the damp cell and Jaejoong shivered again, rubbing his arms with a grimace. His body ached, a cruel reminder of his dissonance with the guards during their interrogation.

 

“Are you injured?”

 

Jaejoong glanced up at the mage briefly. “You are an experienced healer, thank you.”

 

“That is not-” Junsu protested.

 

“I know what you meant. It does not matter though,” he said with a crooked smile that emitted sadness and hidden fear.

 

“Why do you say so?” the mage questioned, stepping closer to the cell, the bars nearly in his reach as he stared at the prisoner, covered in ugly bruises.

 

“Because,” the young man breathed, “we will all die soon.”

 

Junsu growled, suddenly, hands slamming against the metal bars in frustration. The mage shoved himself away from the cell and began pacing once more, this time seemingly much more thrown off balance about everything. “You come, seemingly out of nowhere and begin spouting of threats and other dangers to our lives. How do you know of this?”

 

Jaejoong had jumped at the loud volume of Junsu’s voice. He told himself he shouldn’t be surprised, he knew the man better than anyone else, but he still couldn’t help it. “I can’t tell-”

 

“Stop it!”

 

Jaejoong closed his mouth, inhaling deeply through his nose.

 

“You keep using the same excuse over and over,” Junsu said with a dark glare directed his way.

 

“Trust me,” Jaejoong said in the ancient language, voice wavering in desperation.

 

“The tone of your voice does not actually inspire confidence in my chest,” the mage said, glancing at him from the corner of his eyes as he paced about slowly.

 

Jaejoong cleared his throat. “I can help all of you. Prince Yunho’s safety is imperial to me, please.”

 

“Tell me,” Junsu commanded as he walked up to the cell and reached out to grasp the prisoner’s shoulder through them, pulling him up against the cold metal so he could stare directly into his eyes. “Tell me.”

 

Jaejoong swallowed, but stood still. “Soon, this town will be attacked by Coal Fey, armed with a hoard of fire breathing dragons and all will perish in battle.”

 

“That is the most ridiculous notion I have heard,” Junsu said, shaking the man, “Coal Fey wish not to get involved in the atrocious politics of humans.”

 

Jaejoong grasped the healer’s hands, squeezing. “But the one leading them is not Fey and he cares for naught politics or land; he cares for blood and revenge.”

 

Junsu’s hands went slack against his hold. “What are you...”

 

Through a small barred window at the end of the room, a cacophony of ferocious and bone chilling roars echoed. It stilled the world around them and the most frightening silence followed after. Junsu’s pale face turned to Jaejoong and their eyes met, he could see an emotion he could not name in those dark orbs. What felt like minutes were only seconds and suddenly, a loud crash rang; it was the most frightening sound Jaejoong had ever heard in his whole life.

 

“They have come,” Jaejoong whispered and he was not ashamed to admit that his legs felt like they could no longer carry him. He knew the ending of this event, after all.

 

That was why he did not feel bitter when Junsu ripped his hands out of his hold and ran from the dungeon.

 

░▒▓░▒▓░▒▓

 

Yunho stared at his royal guard’s choked expression with part fear, part impatience. “What is it? Speak, already!” he breathed.

 

“My prince, it’s...”

 

Another roar rang through the deep skies.

 

“It’s a hoard of Kalnarth dragons and they are led by Coal Fey.”

 

The prince stared at his most trusted guard, at loss. Had he not just heard the unmistakable flaps of scaled, leather wings and blood curling shrieks that could belong to no other beast, Yunho would have thought his guard was joking.

 

Yunho leaned over a rich red coloured table and stared at the patterns on the surface of the wood. Something like this, it was impossible to go up against without a proper army, without mages or archers, they would simply be-

 

Junsu burst in through the wide, heavy looking double doors as he panted, robes clutched in his hold.

 

“Where were you?” Yoochun questioned, voice strained.

 

“He predicted this, he said it-”

 

Yoochun’s voice rose to a nearly comical (if not for the seriousness of the situation) note. “You talked to the prisoner?”

 

“My prince,” Junsu cried, ignoring Yoochun’s sputtering, “I believe the prisoner knows the events that are to occur before the time comes.”

 

“You mean to say you think that he is a-”

 

The room shook, dust briefly falling through the cracks in the bricks as a mighty dragon soared near to the tower, spitting burning flames that immediately at anything flammable.

 

“I think he can save us.”

 

░▒▓░▒▓░▒▓

 

The roars grew stronger and louder, becoming more ferocious as the dragons indulged in their deepest, most primitive instincts. They were joined by the wails and painful cries of both women and men alike, as none could stand against a dragon on their own. Kalnarth dragons were known for their rogue behavior; not even their riders were safe against them and few ever risked training such a beast. They were proud and despised bowing to others, even their own kind. That was why there were few of them and they lived far in between.

 

Something of this scale had never been seen, Jaejoong knew that far too well. It was a new chapter in history and as he continued listening idly, he realised it was probably the last, as well.

 

And he was the reason of its destruction.

 

The door to the dungeon opened again and footsteps echoed among stone. Jaejoong raised his head, hair long since disheveled as he kept running his hands through it, nervous of what was to come. He blinked slightly in surprise at the three people in the room.

 

He didn’t know what to say.

 

“Is it true, then,” Jung Yunho stepped up to him, “that you predicted all of this?”

 

Jaejoong’s smile was sorrowful. “Does any of that matter now? You are a very intelligent man, prince Yunho. I am saying this because I am sure you know enough of Kalnarth dragons and Coal Fey to know that it is a helpless battle to go against them in a situation like this. It does not take one skilled in battle tactics to know the outcome of that.”

 

“Do you always talk this much?” Yoochun questioned, patience short. Jaejoong stayed silent. As he turned away he missed the prince’s lips thinning in irritation. That was why the young man was suddenly surprised when he heard the sound of metal clicking together, like keys, and the cell door sprung open. Yunho strode in, despite Yoochun’s weak protest that the action was not wise.

 

“Are you a seer?” casting a dark shadow over Jaejoong, Yunho stood gazing down at the sitting man.

 

The smile died on his lips. “All seers died during the war of-”

 

Yunho cut in. “The great war of Galia. Yes, I am aware of that. But you failed to answer my question.”

 

The man stayed silent.

 

Across the room, Junsu began rubbing the smooth surface of his staff, a habit he had, as he listened. “They are coming closer.”

 

Apparently, that was all it took for the prince’s patience to snap. Taking a single step to close the distance between himself and the sitting prisoner, his fingers curled up in the front of his dirty shirt and hoisted the man to his feet. Yunho’s ethereal coloured eyes bore into Jaejoong’s amber ones and his breath stilled in his lungs for a moment at the intensity of the gaze.

 

Yunho was a fighter in both body and soul. He might’ve received physical training for his swordsman skills since he was little, but he was also strong on the inside. He despised giving up and always saw things to their end. And this was something he intended to see to its end as well; he simply couldn’t accept the possibility that the end was this near, because he knew, it wasn’t. Somewhere deep down, in the folds of his beating heart, the prince felt an odd and foreign connection with the prisoner, so intense that it frightened him and urged him to push it away. But the same stranger was now also their only way out.

 

“I do not care what you are or what you are not,” Yunho growled. “Are you truly so selfish to simply sit here until you burn down to ashes? With the knowledge that you alone have the power to save someone? Can you honestly let that responsibility set down on your shoulders? Are you strong enough to carry it?” he yelled, shaking him.

 

Jaejoong cringed slightly, feeling himself begin to crack. “But you know that we cannot-” he stumbled when Yunho let go of him forcefully, the brush of his fingers against his shoulders had been burning with anger. Looking up, Jaejoong was shocked when a palm connected with his cheek in a stinging slap, choking the breath out of his lungs.

 

Bringing his hand up, he gingerly touched the side of his face, which was throbbing painfully. Glancing up at Yunho, Jaejoong was startled at the anger in those eyes. “You do not have the right to give up at a moment like this,” Yunho whispered lowly, eyes never looking away from his own, “You stand up and fight no matter how hopeless everything seems because that is the right thing to do.”

 

Jaejoong felt his lip tremble subtly as he gazed at the man; a man who had once been a child from a simple family, but due to a mistake, was raised in riches and under the guidance of the best teachers from the whole kingdom. A child that was now an adult and still had such a perfected view of what a world should be like, it was almost naive. Yet he was a person who could turn such a naive ideal into reality and that was exactly what he wanted Jaejoong to do.

 

He had almost forgotten how strong and courageous a man Jung Yunho was. So absorbed in his own fear, Jaejoong had forgotten how strong and determined the people around him were.

 

They were people who could bring down an entire kingdom with their perseverance.

 

“We need to get to Ostarea and take a ferry to Reenas, then travel over the mountains to Ghurtan and get to the capital from there,” Jaejoong said in a single, low breath.

 

Yoochun stared at him as if he had grown a second head, suddenly deciding in interfere. “How do you expect us to do that? Ghurtan is a dead end, no one can travel over those mountains!”

 

“That’s the only way,” Jaejoong spoke, eyes hardening as he glanced up. “Either we die here and now, or risk dying there.”

 

Yunho smirked as he slapped Jaejoong over the back, “That’s what I like to hear. Now lead the way.”

 

And that was exactly what Jaejoong did. His heart felt as if it was permanently latched up in his throat, nearly choking him as they all ran. His injuries, not completely healed, rubbed at him awkwardly and he was growing worried, particularly about the arrow wound in his side. But there was no time to worry about that because they needed to get away as fast as possible. Dragons had near perfect eyesight and running away from one was nearly impossible.

 

Outside, the city was in chaos, flames embraced buildings with hot excitement and dragons flew over their heads, roaring into the reddening sky; the sun was setting. Jaejoong was beginning to think that perhaps they would make it after all.

 

Suddenly stopping, for he did not see the prince by his side anymore, Jaejoong looked around. Yoochun and Junsu had gone ahead of them, heading to the burning forest as Jaejoong had instructed (though Yoochun did not hesitate to express his thoughts on that decision).

 

He quickly found Yunho, standing further away, eyes boring into a burning corpse of what Jaejoong believe to be a child. He brought a hand over his mouth to hold the nausea at bay as he ran over to the man.

 

“Yunho!” he called out, but the other didn’t even move. Cursing as a dragon soared close above him, Jaejoong ran as fast as his feet could carry him. “Yunho, we have to move. Even if you had tried, you couldn’t have prevented this,” he slipped his hand into the others, tugging gently, but insistently, for it was getting harder to breathe, “it’s not your fault.”

 

“I know,” the man said, but Jaejoong heard the bitterness behind that knowledge and somehow, it made him feel guilty.

 

But Yunho was strong.

 

They ran along the burning trees. Yunho could no longer see Junsu or Yoochun, but he was keeping his hold onto the mysterious man so as not to lose him. He was their key out of here, in a way.

 

A tree fell just a few feet away from them and Jaejoong let out a startled yelp. Seconds later, a dragon soared past their heads, its blood red eyes gleaming among the flames from below, staring down right at them.

 

Jaejoong’s eyes watered from the rising smoke around them. The sky was growing dark and only the flames lit their path. He turned his head after the dragon as they ran and saw it turning around, nostrils flaring with sparks of scorching fire as it prepared to attack.

 

He cursed, glancing around them for a way out and as he saw the lake, Jaejoong decided. “Forgive me, your highness,” he apologised and before Yunho could question him, he tugged his hang out from his hold and pushed Yunho into the lake just as the dragon’s jaws opened, fire coming out and at their heels. Their bodies broke the surface of the water and the wave of the flame lit up the surface above them. Both stared wide eyed as the flame died down, leaving them in silence once again.

 

Jaejoong brought a hand to his nose, trying to keep himself from breathing in as his lungs burned for air. They had to wait.

 

The writer was surprised by the pull at his shoulder and glanced at his side, only briefly being able to make out the silhouette of the prince. So he was not expecting when cold lips pressed against his own and two hands came up to his head to hold him.

 

Time seemed to have stopped at that moment and the scary world above the surface faded away, leaving them alone.

 

Dazed, Jaejoong parted his lips only slightly and felt air being breathed into his lungs. Eyes snapping open in surprise, he returned to his thoughts as the other pulled away and suddenly Jaejoong was grateful for the darkness because, most likely, the prince could not see his expression.

 

After a few moments, Yunho tugged the writer to the surface and they came up, gasping for air. Beside them, the air was lit up a bloody red as the forest and city glowed into the night sky.

 

It would’ve been a breathtaking sight, had they not known the price of it all.

 

Jaejoong coughed as he turned to Yunho. “Thank you,” he said curtly and headed towards the shore.

 

Yunho followed right behind him and by the sounds of it, he was a much better swimmer than Jaejoong. “We lost Yoochun and Junsu in the city,” he said as he got out and offered a hand to Jaejoong who reluctantly accepted it.

 

“Junsu is smart, he will keep Yoochun in check,” Jaejoong said with a snort as he shook the water out of his hair. His heart was still beating fast after the little adventure, but it looked like the dragon had flown away.

 

Yunho arched an eyebrow. “And you figured that detail after a mere few hours of interacting with them?”

 

“I know many things,” he tried to use a sheepish smile, but it ended up far too frightened to be considered one.

 

Yunho sighed. “And I can clearly see that. I will not inquire about it, if it causes you discomfort. But there is one thing I would like to know,” Yunho said so seriously that Jaejoong was forced to take a step back.

 

“What would that be, my prince?” he questioned cautiously.

 

“What is your name?” the expression melted into one of Yunho’s rarer smiles and Jaejoong’s shoulders slackened with relief.

 

“Kim Jaejoong.”

 

░▒▓░▒▓░▒▓

 

Junsu watched the city burning in the distance. It lit up the land like a hot coal that fell out of fire, or a firefly dancing in the night. Eyes sad, he turned away from the warming light and continued walking behind Yoochun as he carried his staff by his side. He watched the guard nearly trip again and scoffed. “Are you sure you’re the prince’s guard? I’m surprised he’s still alive.”

 

It was only after he said the words aloud did Junsu realise the grave error in them. Turning to the guard, he was about to utter an apology.

 

“If he is still alive,” Yoochun quietly mumbled.

 

Junsu patted his robes with nothing else to distract him. “He has the seer with him.”

 

Yoochun snorted. “That is what worries me the most. Do we even know his name?”

 

“I... did not ask,” Junsu admitted awkwardly.

 

“A suspected accomplice in the ambush of the prince, we know naught about his name or where he has come from, and the prince is alone with him,” he recited, kicking a rock in frustration.

 

“The prince knows how to fend for himself, you should know that,” Junsu said with a frown. He knew he had a stronger sense of trust in the man, because he had spoken the ancient language to him. But he knew Yoochun would not perceive the importance of such things.

 

His gaze lingered longingly on the back of the soldier, bathed in the darkness of the night. Yoochun was a foolish mortal, through and through. Junsu was aware of it, but even the logical notion of that somehow failed to quell the feelings grazing at his chest. He reached up to rub at the area right above the heart, hoping to soothe it in some naive way. Junsu could heal many injuries; bring a person back from the brink of death and rip them out of the hands of Mirtys herself, but pain brought upon from emotions was not something he could cure.

 

It was almost ironic. He was a healer, but he could not heal himself.

 

“The fool probably doesn’t,” Yoochun muttered.

 

“He’s a seer, he can’t be that hopeless,” Junsu defended the young man.

 

The guard snorted from ahead. “That is exactly my point. Seers are useless, just like-” he stopped awkwardly, suddenly sensing the direction that the conversation was going in.

 

“Go on,” Junsu urged him on as he stopped and stood in place.

 

“Junsu...”

 

“I could stop your heart within a second if I needed to, Yoochun,” the mage replied. He tried to keep his tone steady, along with his expression. Because it stung more than he would’ve liked to admit.

 

When the other failed to answer him, Junsu marched forward, shoving his way past the guard. “We need to find some form of transportation. Moving by foot would take us weeks,” he said coldly. “We do not have that kind of luxury.”

 

And then he proceeded to ignore the other’s calls.

 

░▒▓░▒▓░▒▓

 

Jaejoong couldn’t remember when he had experienced a situation more awkward than this. Sure, Changmin was once forced to drag him out of a bar, drunk as a slipper, shouting obscenities at the passers-by. But at least he had been too drunk to remember that. And this felt very much so ingrained in his memory.

 

Blinking, the young man realised his muscles felt like lead, it was most likely due to the stress on his body.

 

“I cannot phantom how you do not know how to ride a horse,” the prince exclaimed as they galloped. Jaejoong had a difficult time hanging on, so he was forced to keep a tight hold on Yunho while the other could not contain his amusement.

 

“Excuse me for speaking so freely,” Jaejoong said, “but please, kindly shut the hell up, your highness.”

 

He could feel Yunho’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter. The fresh air blowing in their faces and scattering among their hair felt refreshing, a welcome distraction from the destruction they had left behind.

 

“You are an odd person, Jaejoong,” the prince said.

 

“So I have been told,” came the simple answer.

 

The conversation died down and Yunho was left with his own thoughts. All of which were not in the least bit welcoming, for they ventured in a direction he thought to be problematic under the circumstances they were in.

 

He could not help but return to the feelings, that odd connection he experienced when beside Jaejoong. Yunho now knew his name, but not who he was, and it appeared that the man clinging to him from behind would only allow that much.

 

He was a mystery.

 

Briefly glancing back at Jaejoong, Yunho was about to speak. But the other jerked in the saddle all of a sudden. “I think I see them!” he exclaimed and pointed towards two figures cloaked in darkness a little further away from them. He was quick to latch back onto to the prince, however, when he almost fell.

 

Relief washed over Yunho as he slowed the horse to a trot when they were near enough. His lips twitched when Yoochun whirled around, sword at ready in his hand, until he noticed him. The smile that broke out on his face was like the morning sun and he ran up to them.

 

“My prince, are you alright?” he immediately questioned, taking note of their wet clothes.

 

“All is well, Yoochun,” Yunho nodded, dismounting gracefully.

 

Junsu walked up to them as well, though his figure still appeared to be tense under the dark robes. “Is it safe to stop for the night? It seems like we could all do with some rest.”

 

Jaejoong was surprised when all eyes turned to him and he shifted uncomfortably when the horse snorted. Eyeing the beast wearily, he nodded. “They should have retreated,” he said and glanced at the ground uncertainly. To get down appeared to be more difficult than it was getting on. “But we will need to keep watch,” he added. The proclaimed seer wasn’t certain just how much this had all changed the events of history within the book.

 

Hopefully they still thought them to be dead. It would give them some time; some time for Yunho to get ready and strike back.

 

Yoochun’s eyes twinkled comically as he stared at him. “Does he not know how to ride a horse?”

 

Yunho’s shoulders shook. “I asked him the same thing.”

 

“That is not that uncommon!” Jaejoong protested.

 

Actually, it was. And he knew that very well. His pride simply did not want to admit it.

 

Growling, Jaejoong dismounted without any further thought. His attempt was poorly compared to Yunho’s well practiced descent. Instead, upon hitting the ground, his legs gave out and he fell. Yoochun broke into a fit of poorly suppressed cackling, laughing himself silly at the young man.

 

It was only when Junsu rushed forward, dropping down before the fallen man, did Yoochun’s laughter trail off. Yunho quickly made his way over. “What is wrong with him?”

 

“Apparently we will have to stop either way,” Junsu announced tensely. “He has lost too much blood.”

 

“Lost blood? But he is not bleeding,” Yunho said with a frown as he kneeled by Jaejoong’s unconscious figure.

 

“Not on the outside,” Junsu said, waving a hand over Jaejoong’s side. “His body went through too much strain after such a serious injury, from the arrow in his side. He is bleeding into his body.”

 

Yunho’s head snapped up in alarm. “Will be survive?”

 

Junsu stayed silent for a moment. “It’s hard to tell.”

 

Yoochun’s smile had died down as he gazed at the scene in front of him. He was not sure if he felt much of an emotional tie to the man, but he did not wish a life to go to waste either. Shifting, he spoke, “I will go find us a more secluded place to make camp.”

 

Junsu nodded. “My prince, please get on the horse with him. I need you to hold him up,” he explained. “I will walk along your side.”

 

“We cannot lose him, Junsu,” the prince spoke, shoulders tense as he carefully hoisted the man into his arms. He was surprised how much of a lightweight he was, barely weighing anything in his arms.

 

“I will do all that is in my power,” Junsu nodded.

 

Yunho found it incredibly hard to tear his eyes away from the man in his arms. But he was forced to turn to Junsu for help in getting Jaejoong up on the horse with him.

 

░▒▓░▒▓░▒▓

 

The crackling fire cast a shadow over Junsu’s serious looking face as he stared into the burning logs, watching as they slowly burned up and turned to coal. His gaze would stray to Jaejoong, who still appeared to be unconscious, but Junsu was mostly certain that he was put under natural sleep by now. Close by the fire there was another figure as well. The prince slept soundly, body turned to the fire, seeking warmth subconsciously.

 

Yoochun paced slowly behind Junsu, glancing at the mage from time to time. By the way his figure tensed, the guard was almost certain that he could feel every gaze cast upon him.

 

“Is there anything you want?” Junsu finally snapped once his patience ran thin.

 

Yoochun stumbled in surprise. “Nothing in particular.”

 

“Anything not particular then?” Junsu questioned.

 

“What?”

 

Junsu rolled his eyes. “Stop staring at me,” he said.

 

“I was not!” Yoochun defended himself, voice rising.

 

By the fire, Yunho shifted in his sleep and Junsu turned to Yoochun with a glare. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed.

 

“I was not staring though,” the guard said.

 

“If you were blind, perhaps,” the healer snapped back quietly.

 

The fire crackled again and silence ensued around them. Junsu finally relaxed as he no longer felt that gaze burrowed into his back time and time again. He allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief. It was getting harder to keep his own emotions in check and it threw him off balanced, caused him to lash out at the smallest things gone wrong.

 

“You should get some sleep, we will be on the road in the morning,” Yoochun finally spoke up.

 

“The seer needs to be watched over,” he grunted at the guard.

 

“I can wake you if anything were to go wrong,” Yoochun suggested.

 

Junsu snorted, shoulders hitching up for a moment. “Chances are, he would be long dead before you even noticed anything.”

 

Yoochun fell silent for a moment. Footsteps echoed once again and Junsu heard them nearing closer to where he sat. “I did not mean what I said before,” he heard as they stopped right behind him.

 

“What was that?”

 

“I said I am sorry,” Yoochun mumbled.

 

Just a little bit wouldn’t hurt, right? The innocent feeling of having the other closer for a little moment. Maybe it would make it easier to bare the pressure in his chest. He startled at the hand on his shoulder, but quickly melted into the mesmerizing feeling and closed his eyes, sighing soundlessly.

 

Sensing his silence, Yoochun spoke up again as he leaned over his shoulder. “You’re not going to kill me now, are you?”

 

Ever so slowly, Junsu turned. Yoochun’s face, lit up by the ever changing light coming from the fire, danced in his eyes like the fluttering wings of a butterfly. His lips parted; he had thought one glance, one small, little touch would sate his soul. But as he continued to gaze, the eyes that met his felt so welcoming and irresistible.

 

And at the slightest flicker of heat in those eyes, Junsu snapped. He reached over with his hand, pushing the soldier’s head down and twisted his body and neck as he slapped him lips upon the other’s.

 

The warmth he felt was at least a few times hotter than the fire they sat in front of and despite feeling as if his lips were burning, Junsu could not turn his head away. And when the innocent little bites and nibbles were no longer enough, their tongues clashed together in a fierce battle.

 

Yoochun’s heart beat faster than it had during any battle he had faced and he could not believe that the beautiful, mythical creature he had silently admired from afar all those years was now in his hold, solid and real.

 

“Junsu,” he breathed against the other’s wet lips with the urge to express all of this, but the other paid him no heed.

 

“Do not talk,” the mage panted as his eyes closed, lashes fluttering.

 

Yoochun was more than delighted to comply and shifted closer to Junsu, wishing he could simply take all that was presented before him.

 

“I was... going to inquire of Jaejoong’s state, but is this not the right time?”

 

Yoochun startled and with the intention to jump away, tripped over his legs and sprawled himself onto the ground in the least graceful way possible. Junsu quickly cleared his throat, and at his reddened lips and collected whatever was left of his dignity as he glanced up at the prince. “He is...” pausing, Junsu glanced over the injured man, inspecting him, before turning back to Yunho. “He is doing well, your highness.”

 

Yoochun picked himself up, coughing. “I will go inspect the area around camp for any disturbances,” he announced and left as fast as his feet could carry him, but not before turning a longing glance towards Junsu.

 

Yunho watched the scene with muted amusement and noted that Junsu had been doing the same. Once their eyes met, the prince couldn’t control the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards; he could clearly read the impending command of silence in the mage’s eyes. He would spare him the embarrassment and stay silent about the little adventure, Yunho decided.

 

“I imagine he will be alright to travel by morning,” Junsu said and took note of how quickly Yunho’s smile left his face and he had his rapt attention at the first notice about the seer. “But we must watch him carefully, his body has went through a great deal of strain.”

 

“His name is Jaejoong,” Yunho informed the other, face lighting up with a subconscious smile as he gazed down at the sleeping figure. “Kim Jaejoong.”

 

“Please do not get in too deep, my prince,” Junsu told him seriously. “A small bite will not sate a starving wolf.”

 

Yunho nodded in agreement, and his expression appeared to be strained as he ran his hand through the pale man’s hair. Unfortunately, he didn’t think he could simply let go of his prey now that he had caught hold of it.