Days turned into weeks and the chill of winter settled over the kingdom in earnest. Near the end of January, the cold remained as bitter as ever, snow burying the landscape under a soft blanket of white, almost shimmering in the sun’s sharp rays.

Winter’s cold did not deter Junmyeon, however. Together with Jongdae, he often ventured into the woods, the snow crunching under their feet and their breaths coming out in small puffs of steam as they followed the now familiar path to the cottage. Each time Xiumin opened the door to find they had come to visit, he’d frown or let out an exasperated sigh, muttering about wanting to be forgotten. But he would allow them inside and let them warm themselves by the fireplace with a cup of tea or a bowl of soup, prodded into conversation.

He had resigned to his fate when it came to Junmyeon and company being a recurring figure in his life. His determination to save himself from the complexities of human interactions had buckled underneath his new friends’ persistence and, slowly, he had allowed them closer than anyone had been in years. Closer than he ever imagined anyone would get ever again.

It was not easy for him, and he still felt the thorns of doubt wrapping around him when left to his own thoughts, but the presence of others eased his heart just as much as it weighed him down. It was refreshing. It was terrifying. But he couldn’t help but be drawn closer to the group, captured by their optimism, their perseverance, and the life that hummed in the air around them, vibrant and energetic. They made him feel alive.

Junmyeon visited together with Jongdae for the first many weeks, but he had managed to sneak away and come without the other from time to time. Likewise, Jongdae sometimes went alone, and despite Xiumin still being withheld when it came to much of his personal life, the stable hand had gained the most ground on understanding Xiumin’s inner workings out of everyone else.  

Little things, that some might have missed, were picked up by Jongdae. He had managed to learn, for example, that the older hadn’t always lived alone. It hadn’t taken long for him to silently question the number of chairs, for one. Why have two chairs when Xiumin had seemed hell-bent on being alone? And maybe chairs could be explained away, but it didn’t explain the fact that Xiumin had enough dishes and utensils for when Junmyeon and Jongdae came by for a visit, which, Jongdae thought, was odd for a person living in solitude.

With this came the bookcase stuffed with books about everything and interesting trinkets that Jongdae wouldn’t have thought Xiumin would be interested in, like wooden figurines that were obviously whittled by hand. He’d seen a fine sword, too, tucked away in a corner beside the chest, next to his bow and quiver. A sword wasn’t strange to keep around, but when Jongdae had taken a closer look, he’d paid attention to the sheath, handsome but old. And covered in a layer of dust, untouched for what must have been a while.

Each of these things could have been explained away, but when Jongdae casually mentioned the chairs and number of dishes and utensils, Xiumin had relented that no, he had not always been by himself; however, he held his cards close and had refused to tell Jongdae more when he had tried to push past vague answers. He had shaken his head and changed the topic, and Jongdae realized this was something he would not be able to coax out of him in the span of a few months. Jongdae just knew there had once been someone in Xiumin’s life, someone Xiumin had held dear, but where that person was now, only Xiumin knew.

Jongdae could sympathize with Xiumin. He knew how it felt to be left behind, regardless of the circumstances, and he had this inkling that Xiumin had been through the same as him, namely the loss of parental figures. He was very observant of how Xiumin would avoid talking about a mother or father, just like how he never mentioned anything about his guardian ever since that talk with Jongdae, where Jongdae had brought up his own parents and the loss he had felt when they died in an attempt to get closer to Xiumin.

He liked to think that, while it hadn’t worked out exactly as he had hoped, what with Xiumin being as evasive as ever, the two of them had reached an understanding that day. They were kindred spirits, ones that had had shared similar tragedies if Jongdae’s intuition were correct, and something about that realization had them closer than ever.

The newfound comradery between the three men had eventually led the prince to work others into the visits. Yixing, of course, being the first. The advisor had become even more suspicious of the two, frowning slightly when Junmyeon would mention yet another trip to the stables, so it was only natural for him to be brought into the loop.

Yixing had taken it well, considering Junmyeon had been lurking around in the woods unguarded for the better part of three months. He had only subjected Junmyeon to an hour of the silent treatment before his own curiosity got the best of him, and he asked to meet the hooded hero properly, to which Junmyeon had happily obliged. The man had not been happy with sneaking out - “What good am I as an advisor when you obviously care nothing for my advice or warnings?” - but had done so when Junmyeon insisted it was important to keep this secret.

Xiumin had recognized Yixing right away, much to the advisor’s surprise, only mentioning that it was hard to forget the way he had been targeted by the leader as well, for his appearance. Junmyeon had jumped in as Yixing simply grimaced at the memory, throwing his arm around the man’s shoulders and introducing him as “Lay”. Jongdae had snorted outright at the given name, snickering behind his hand as Yixing shot Junmyeon a sidelong glare, but Junmyeon had smiled anyways. He had panicked, and the horse’s name had been the first to pop into his mind. He was quite fond of the horse, so Yixing should have considered it an honor, the prince would later defend.

Yifan proved to be the trickiest introduction. When Junmyeon had approached him on one of his return trips to the castle, the young lord had looked at him in obvious confusion, and only then had Junmyeon realized that Yifan never saw the other man. He had been unconscious for that part of the fight, and the prince began to doubt if he had ever been told of how they escaped with their lives. But he had been excited by the prospects of meeting such a mysterious figure, and went along happily. Introducing himself as “Jiaheng”, and coughing in embarrassment when Xiumin had remarked about him being “the unconscious one”, Yifan had quickly tried to redeem himself, stating the bandits had been “lucky to have caught me off guard” and assured he was a much better fighter than first impressions would suggest.

Yixing and Yifan only ever visited with Junmyeon in tow, and asides from Junmyeon or Jongdae occasionally going alone, the four of them made a habit to visit the cottage together. Xiumin had been overwhelmed by the amount of bodies in his home for the first few visits when they all came, but after a while they had settled into a routine that all five found enjoyable.

But by the middle of February, Junmyeon grew tired of using a false persona. Not only was it difficult to keep track of everyone’s identity - he had the most trouble with Yixing’s name, constantly having to pause before he spoke - but it felt wrong, in a way. Here Xiumin was, having protected them and allowing them to enter his life, and he was still masquerading as “Suho, the tradesman”. While he had needed the name earlier, when the idea of being vulnerable in the woods with a title worth a lot of ransom, Xiumin had proven himself trustworthy. Surely he would be able to handle Junmyeon’s true identity.

Yifan, it seemed, thought otherwise.

It had taken up the majority of their conversation during Yixing’s poetry lesson, much to the constant annoyance of Yixing, who dutifully tried to keep the talk geared towards academics in vain. His current attempt including having Junmyeon and Yifan take turns reading stanzas.

“Alright, Your Highness,” he muttered, sighing as he trailed his fingers over the lines on the page in front of him. “Can you read the next lines, please?”

Junmyeon did as he was told, peering down at the words on the page before reciting the stanza Yixing wanted:

“Her Autumn froze in Winter’s hold
The world cast o’er in shadow, cold
A final breath
Earth’s quiet death
And dark the skies once cast in gold.”

Yixing nodded when Junmyeon met his eyes again and cleared his throat. “And what do ‘Autumn’ and ‘Winter’ signify in these lines?”

The nobles exchanged looks, and Yixing sighed. “You do know this is a subjective topic, correct? There is no right or wrong answer.”

“… The seasons?” Yifan guessed, and Yixing’s glare was immediate.

“I stand corrected. What else?”

When they remained silent, Yixing rubbed his forehead as he turned his attention back to the passage. “Alright. Options then. I guess Yifan is not completely wrong. The poet could have easily been naming the seasons as only that; a passage of time. But paired with the next line, which talks about shadows cast over the world, it can easily be turned into a reflection of the woman’s sadness or heartache. Take, for example, the way the skies in this have -”

“I still do not think it wise to reveal your title to Xiumin,” Yifan whispered, his low baritone rumbling beneath Yixing’s lighter voice as the advisor carried on with his lesson. “It is not necessary.”

“It was also not necessary for him to assist us all of those months ago,” Junmyeon argued, pressing his words into the palm of his hand that propped him up in an effort to muffle his voice. “And yet, he did. Does that not deserve the truth?”

“It deserves your gratitude,” Yifan insisted. “Nothing more.”

“He is my friend,” Junmyeon continued. “Our friend. And maybe you are okay with being Jiaheng for the rest of your life, but I do not want to be Suho. I want to be Junmyeon.”

Yifan sighed, shaking his head before relenting. “Well, if you are so hell-bent on revealing yourself, you should at least bring along a guard for protection.”

“And who would you suggest?” Junmyeon said softly, huffing at the words. “Chanyeol cannot very well follow us into the forest without raising some suspicions.”

“Tao would probably accompany us, if we asked.”

Junmyeon shot the man a knowing grin, raising his eyebrow at the use of the nickname. “Oh, you would like Tao to join us?”

“He is a capable fighter,” Yifan argued, though the blush that stained his cheeks had Junmyeon chuckling softly.

“Is that all?” Junmyeon countered, nudging the man at his side. “It seems as if the two of you have grown closer in the last few months.” He had noticed the two deep in conversation from time to time, or sparring. Yifan had gotten stronger, quicker, better under Zitao’s instruction, and he had seen the way the young lord would bloom with pride underneath Zitao’s praise.

“Tell me,” Junmyeon whispered, leaning closer to Yifan, “do you want him to come along for his fighting skill or because you enjoy his company?”

Yifan scoffed at that, and Yixing’s words trailed off, sharp eyes snapping up from his notes to pin Yifan with a glare. “Do you wish to make a comment, Yifan, or do you just interrupt because you know it irks me?”

“If I said the latter, would you stop the lesson earlier?” Yifan quipped, hissing when Yixing swatted at his head.

“Poetry is not to be rushed,” Yixing growled, glancing between the two nobles. “I suggest you pay attention, lest I decide the lesson should be extended.”

Junmyeon and Yifan groaned at the threat, because they had already been at this lesson for close to an hour. Both fell silent as Yixing continued, the advisor only slightly smug at his victory, and the rest of the lesson was spent trying to understand the complexities of metaphors and emotions in poetry. Junmyeon had a sneaking suspicion that Yifan did not mind, however, as it meant the attention was taken away from his fondness for a certain member of the royal guard.

Junmyeon smiled as he listened to Yixing explain the next stanza. Perhaps his nightingale would find Yifan’s interest in Zitao entertaining. He would be sure to tell him later, as an apology for telling Yifan about his neck. Yixing would certainly find a good use for such information.

-

Though Junmyeon was adamant about revealing himself to Xiumin, he still had no clue of how to go about it. He had practiced quite a few times in his head, bouncing his words off of different scenarios and reactions, but nothing ever seemed natural. Then again, how natural could it be to tell someone you have known for months that you are not the person they think you are?

He had contemplated just outright saying it, blurting out the words as if his lungs could not hold it back any longer. And he had considered leading into it with small talk, casually dropping the information amidst comments about the weather and the latest news in the city. But nothing seemed to fit. The prince thought his hesitation mostly had to do with his still vague knowledge of the inner workings of Xiumin. The man was unpredictable, and that made it hard to choose a course of action.

What if Xiumin got angry? Refused to speak to him ever again? What if he considered this the utmost betrayal? Or what if it were turned? What if Xiumin used his status against him, blackmailed him or sold him off like the bandits would have done?

The idea of Xiumin being among the ranks of those horrible men seemed unlikely to Junmyeon, though. While he may not know much about Xiumin’s life, he knew enough about his character. Even with the quieted nature and reluctance to venture further than his comfort zone, the man seemed loyal and honest to a fault. He wouldn’t use Junmyeon for personal gain. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be upset.

Jongdae, for what it was worth, was trying to be encouraging.

“He’ll be fine,” Jongdae said as he walked a little bit in front of Junmyeon, turning around to walk backwards from time to time as he spoke. He was the only one to accompany Junmyeon after some contemplation. It was better not to overwhelm Xiumin with all of them at once. That, and Junmyeon had not actually told Yixing his plans of revealing himself. He figured he would tell him after the fact, and beg for forgiveness then.

“I’m sure he’ll understand the necessity for keeping your identity hidden,” Jongdae continued, his tone even and reassuring.

“But for so long?” Junmyeon asked, carefully stepping through the snow. “We have known him for months, and yet we have not corrected the initial introduction.”

“Trust takes time to develop,” Jongdae countered. “And he hasn’t exactly been an open book either. If anyone would understand the purpose of hiding, I’m certain it would be him.”

“You almost sound bitter, Jongdae,” Junmyeon teased, and the other laughed, throwing his head back with the sound.

“I’m not bitter,” Jongdae assured, tossing the prince a wide grin. “Intrigued, yes, but not bitter. If anything, I enjoy the challenge.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Besides, he is probably hiding just as much. After all, have you ever heard of the name ‘Xiumin’? Maybe a proper introduction will lead to more doors being opened.”

“Is that how you justify your interest in him?” Junmyeon mused, laughing when Jongdae faltered in his steps. “Are you trying to crack the shell that is Xiumin with all of your treks out here alone?”

Jongdae squawked in protest, but the prince was already pushing ahead of him, the cottage just up ahead. They pushed through the untouched snow that had fallen that night, excited by the prospects of getting out of the cold. They could already see the smoke rising from the chimney, and they were drawn to it like a beacon in the dark.

It was Jongdae who first noticed there was another creature that also seemed drawn towards the warmth.

“A crow,” he observed, gesturing towards the shed by the side of the house, where Xiumin stored wood for the winter. Junmyeon followed his line of vision and found the bird easily, black feathers a stark contrast against the white snow. The bird hardly moved as they approached, watching the men silently from its perch.

“Odd for this time of year,” Jongdae continued. “And alone, at that.”

“Perhaps it is lost,” Junmyeon stated with a shrug, watching as the crow finally took flight as they reached the door, gliding through the trees and disappearing. Jongdae had watched it for just a little longer as Junmyeon reached forward to knock on the door of the cottage.

The crow was forgotten when Xiumin opened the door to greet them, both men frowning in worry at the sight of their friend. Sweat clung to his sickly pale skin, and while a smile adorned his face when his gaze fell upon Junmyeon and Jongdae, it was weak at best.

Jongdae’s brows pulled closer together when he caught sight of the man trembling slightly, and he wondered how hard it was for him to remain upright. He itched to move forward, to provide support, but did not know how Xiumin would respond to such a move, knowing he was not one for physical contact. Instead, he made his concerns known with his voice.

“Are you ill, Xiumin?”

The older man waved him off, giving a half-hearted shrug. “It’s nothing. A cold, from the winter weather.”

“You seem to be running a fever,” Jongdae continued, unconvinced by the man’s show of indifference. Junmyeon shifted in his spot next to him, his own worry coming through in the nervous fidget. “How long has it affected you?”

“Only a day or so,” Xiumin responded, doing his best to smile in reassurance. “It will break soon. I am sure of it.”

“Have you eaten?” Junmyeon spoke up, pulling at the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. “Allow us to give you a proper meal, at least.”

“Is food always on your mind?” Xiumin asked with a chuckle, but slid to the side to allow the two men in. Jongdae’s eyes swept the area as he entered, noting the logs by the fireplace were running low. Perhaps he could get some more from the shed before they left. While the fire was burning steadily in the fireplace, Jongdae knew it would only be a matter of time before the flames died down, and he didn’t particularly like the idea of Xiumin fighting through the snow to bring in more firewood.

Junmyeon got to work, unpacking the food they had brought along from the castle’s kitchen today, and Xiumin settled down in a chair at the table. A small laugh left him at the sight of tarts being placed out, amongst other dishes.

“You are going to make me fat,” he teased. “It’s a wonder I even remember how to hunt when you keep bringing feasts to my table.”

Junmyeon made some comment in protest, but Jongdae’s attention had slipped away from the table as he neared the desk, looking for the flint. He didn’t need it just yet, but it would give him something to occupy himself with for now. He needed to feel useful, and with Junmyeon handling the food, he figured the fire would be his duty. His search for the flint was short-lived. however, as his attention was pulled towards something else.

The stable hand had noticed the small wooden figures that littered one side of Xiumin’s desk on the first visit, but he had never really taken the time to examine them for longer than a glance. Only now did he realize the amount of detail that went into each one. It seemed the majority of them were animals. He reached forward, letting his hands glide over the wooden sculptures, fingers tracing the curve of a bear’s claw here, the line of a wolf’s spine there. Out of all of the animals, however, one in particular seemed to be repeated.

Jongdae picked up one for a closer look, flipping the figurine over and over in between his fingers. A crow, he realized, this one looking to be midflight, its beak open in a silent cry. Xiumin had taken his time with this one, detailing the feathers and talons, and Jongdae was in awe of the craftsmanship.

He didn’t get to admire the work for much longer, Junmyeon clearing his throat as he pushed the food closer to Xiumin. Jongdae could hear the hesitation in the sound, and knew the prince was getting ready to start the tricky conversation he had been stressing over for the last few days. He abandoned the desk and moved closer to the pair, reaching out to grab a tart from the table and settling himself against the wall before biting into the pastry.

Xiumin snorted at the stable hand, grumbling something about saving the tarts for dessert and dodging Jongdae’s foot as he kicked out at him from his position on the floor. He laughed as he turned his attention to his own food, but he stopped short when Junmyeon cleared his throat again, this time a little more firmly.

“I think I owe you an apology,” he started, and Xiumin chuckled at the words.

“For what? Barging into my cottage unannounced? Aren’t we past that by now?”

He grinned widely at his joke, but the smile fell as he realized Junmyeon had not joined in. He gave Jongdae a sideways glance, but Jongdae only shrugged, knowing Junmyeon had to be the one to do this. Xiumin turned his attention back to the other man seated at the table, regarding him carefully, and Junmyeon took it as his cue to continue.

“I have not been completely honest with you,” Junmyeon said quietly, swirling his drink around in his cup.

“About what?” Xiumin asked, and Jongdae could see the way his posture had gone rigid, tense in his apprehension, though he was doing his best to keep his expression calm. It was a pretty decent mask, Jongdae thought, but he had always been good at reading people, and right now, Xiumin was nervous.

“Do you remember that first day in the woods?” Junmyeon said in lieu of an answer, lifting his gaze to meet Xiumin’s. “My party was attacked by those bandits, and I was targeted.”

“Yes,” Xiumin responded with a short nod, “because of your trade in the city.”

Junmyeon grimaced, giving a dry laugh to try and cover the guilt that was written in his eyes. “That was not exactly true.”

Xiumin took in the words silently, seeming to mull over each syllable carefully before forming a reply. “Alright. Then why were you targeted?”

“Because of who I am,” Junmyeon stated softly, glancing at Jongdae and taking a deep breath before continuing. “Because of my role in the kingdom.”

He leaned forward slightly, as it he were about to divulge a secret, which, in a way, he was. Jongdae already knew what he would say, but found himself leaning closer anyways to catch the man’s words, his eyes trained on the side of Xiumin’s face.

“My name is not Suho,” he said in a low voice, making sure to hold Xiumin’s gaze as he spoke. “My name is Kim Junmyeon, and I am the crown prince to the kingdom of Luoes.”

To his credit, Xiumin did not react immediately. The only sign that he was stressed, that Jongdae could find, was the way his hands had fisted the fabric of his pants, knuckles white with the force. But his face was stone, his breathing was even, and for a moment, no one spoke. The air returned to the room as Xiumin broke the silence, his voice coming out in a whisper.

“I don’t understand,” he started, wetting his lips as he collected his thoughts. “I saved you. Why didn’t you tell me the truth? Had I not deserved that?”

“We were badly wounded,” Junmyeon answered, shaking his head. “After being threatened for our identity, it did not seem wise to give it away again when we would have been hard-pressed to defend ourselves.”

“So I was no better than those bandits in your eyes?” Xiumin snapped, before looking away and taking a breath, turning his eyes back to Junmyeon when he had composed himself again. “Do you think all random acts of kindness hold ulterior motives, or was I a special case?”

“Xiumin, please,” Junmyeon said, frowning. “I never… I never meant to go this long without telling you, but we had to be sure you could be trusted.”

“The power of having a vulnerable prince at your mercy can change even the best of men,” Jongdae added quietly, and Xiumin scoffed.

“And I assume that means you aren’t Chen, right?” he spat, his words almost wounded in tone. Jongdae couldn’t help the ache in his chest at the question, knowing the man was hurting because of this. “Do you have some grand title as well?”

Jongdae smiled, not rising to the bait, but answered with as even a voice as he could muster, “My name is Kim Jongdae, and I am but a stable hand. The horses do not care for grand titles.”

Xiumin’s eyes moved between the two men, and Jongdae forced himself to remain still when he noticed the slight tremble in his hands. He was overwhelmed, but touching him right now would only make matters worse. Xiumin placed his hands flat on the table, pinning Junmyeon with a sharp look.

“Lay?” he asked, and Junmyeon winced.

“Zhang Yixing, my advisor.”

“And Jiaheng?”

“Wu Yifan, son of a duke in one of the nearby districts.”

Xiumin leaned back in his chair, two hands covering his face as he groaned.

“You didn’t trust me enough with your names, but you came to visit without any sort of protection. What were you thinking?”

“You have met my guards,” Junmyeon admitted, giving the man a small smile. “Chanyeol and Zitao are two of my best men. They were there that day in the woods. But sneaking out of the castle is significantly easier without taking the best of the royal guard with me.”

“Besides,” Jongdae piped up, “Junmyeon has never been the best at abiding by the rules his parents have set.”

Xiumin remained quiet, still hidden behind his hands, and Jongdae couldn’t help but shift in his spot, his instincts telling him to comfort the other man. He was paler than when they had first arrived. Maybe they should have waited to tell him to after the fever had broken.

Pulling himself up onto his knees, he reached out with the intention of laying a hand on Xiumin’s leg, before thinking better of it and letting his fingers curl back into a fist, falling to his side.

“Xiu?” he called softly, wishing the man would uncover his face. “I know this is a lot to take in, but your fever… You must try to stay calm -”

Both Jongdae and Junmyeon jumped as Xiumin brought his fist down on the table, dishes rattling from the strength behind the blow. He turned to glare at Jongdae, his chest rising and falling with the strain of keeping still.

“You expect me to be calm?” he bit out between clenched teeth. “After all of this, you think it’s easy for me to not react?”

Xiumin put a hand over his chest, eyes burning with anger and confusion, and looked every bit as overwhelmed as they had feared he would be. “How would you feel if you were in my position? If you just found out that your…” He paused, shaking his head as he tried to articulate himself. “If you found out your friend was actually a prince, and that everyone you’ve met in the last few months had been lying to you?

“How would you feel if you trusted people enough to let them into your life after living alone for years, and then found out they aren’t the people you thought they were?” he finished, and Jongdae’s gaze fell to his lap.

There was no hiding the hurt in those words, and it wasn’t like it wasn’t justified. They had known how painfully reluctant Xiumin had been to accept their interest in him, how he had blatantly refused them at first, clear that they would remain strangers after the incident in the woods. But they had forced their ways into his life, little by little, befriended him. Jongdae couldn’t imagine how much damage they may have done, how much they had just confirmed to Xiumin that being alone was for the best.

No one spoke. No one moved. The silence fell heavily over their shoulders, and Jongdae gnawed at his bottom lip, avoiding the eyes of the others.

Junmyeon was the first to try and put the pieces back together.

“I am sorry,” he said softly, and Jongdae chanced a glance up at the prince. Junmyeon had his head in his hands, elbows on the table as he propped himself up. But as he spoke, he looked up at Xiumin, trying to catch the other’s eyes. “I am so sorry, Xiumin. If I could… Even if my intentions were to assure my safety in a vulnerable situation, you had proven you were a good man. I should have told you that very first day. All I can do is apologize for my actions.”

Xiumin sniffed, shaking his head before turning his attention to the prince. He took a breath, his exhale sounding much smoother than it had been minutes before, and found his voice.

“It was what you thought was best,” he reasoned, though the words felt forced. “I apologize for my outburst. Anger was perhaps not the best response.”

“We do not blame you for it,” Junmyeon assured. “If anything, we probably deserved much worse.”

Jongdae nodded at that assessment, and Xiumin’s eyes slid to him at the movement. He flinched at the look, ducking his head again as his mouth opened, working around an apology that he just couldn’t quite get out. He didn’t know how to word it without it sounding fake, the words too shallow to even begin to explain the depth of his regret. He had always struggled to find the right words, using actions instead. It was the reason he turned to physical contact, showing his emotions through the small touches here and there.

But even as he reached out again, fingers spread wide as they neared the other, he hesitated. Xiumin had already been through so much today. Would his touch not serve as that final push? He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him more.

Before he could pull away again, his hand was caught in a gentle grip, and he looked up in surprise. Xiumin was not looking at him, his eyes falling to the food that was set in front of him, still untouched, but his hand was warm where it wrapped around Jongdae’s fingers. It was nothing, but it was also everything, and Jongdae didn’t know if the pressure in his chest was from his guilt flaring up again or if it were from affection for the other man, who seemed to know exactly what he needed in that moment.

He didn’t get the chance to question it, however, when he registered just how warm the other man’s hand was around his. Far too warm.

“Your fever,” he muttered, his brows pulled tightly together as he rose to his feet, squeezing Xiumin’s hand in his as he stood. “It’s gotten worse since we arrived.”

“Perhaps the stress of our visit has affected you,” Junmyeon added quietly.

Xiumin shook his head, pulling his hand back from the stable hand and laying it in his lap. “I’m fine. The fever is nothing I haven’t had before.”

“Perhaps you should eat?” Jongdae pressed. “Or rest? You must be tired.”

“I feel alright, I assure you,” Xiumin tried to insist, glancing to the fireplace. “Perhaps if I tend to the fire...” He trailed off, standing to cross the floor. But as he stood, he wobbled dangerously, and Jongdae was by his side in an instant, Junmyeon standing as well at the sight.

He found his feet again quickly, but Jongdae refused to move away, worry etched into his expression as he noticed the way Xiumin’s cheeks had flared with red, his breathing slightly labored from exertion.

“You should not be up,” Jongdae said firmly, looking to Junmyeon for assistance. The prince moved immediately, coming to Xiumin’s other side.

“We’ll see to the fire,” Jongdae continued, meeting Junmyeon’s gaze over Xiumin’s shoulder, “and then we will take our leave. You’ve had enough excitement for the day.”

Xiumin huffed, but nodded, his face drawn and pale from standing. “Alright,” he agreed softly. “Alright.”

Jongdae and Junmyeon half-walked, half-carried the other to his bed, lowering him to sit on the edge before backing away. Junmyeon went towards the table, quickly gathering the food and placing it in the wrappings before leaving it there, insisting that Xiumin should eat when some of his strength had returned. Jongdae retreated to the door, heading for the shed to find more wood.

Only when all of the food was cleaned up and the stack of wood in the corner was significantly replenished did Jongdae glance back to Xiumin. He looked tired, subdued, and the idea of leaving him here alone suddenly seemed like the worst decision he had made in a long time. But Xiumin had lived alone long enough to be able to take care of himself, and he knew staying would only mean more stress on him.

“We will leave you to your rest, now,” he stated quietly, watching as Xiumin lifted his head to meet his gaze. “But we will not wait so long for our next visit.”

“Tomorrow, or the next day, perhaps?” Junmyeon chimed in, and the hope in his voice was almost tangible in the air around them. Jongdae knew they were testing their limits, seeing if Xiumin would send them away for good this time.

To their relief, Xiumin only nodded, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Maybe by then I will have shaken this cold,” he said light-heartedly, and Jongdae could not help but smile. There was still pain in those words, but he was trying, and that was all Jongdae could ask for. If Junmyeon’s bright grin was any indication, it seemed he was just as happy with the other’s attempts.

When Jongdae opened the door, ushering Junmyeon out into the snow in front of him, he paused. There, in his footprint from when he had gone to get the firewood, harsh against the white of the snow, was a single black feather. He checked the surrounding trees, the roof of Xiumin’s home, but there was no bird in sight, nor was there any other indication that a bird had been there at all.

His mind went back to their arrival, and the crow that had greeted them on their approach, as well as the wooden crows that found themselves settled amid the other wooden creatures on Xiumin’s desk.

“Hey, Xiu?” he called over his shoulder, looking back to where the man still sat on his bed. He had tried to them to the door, but neither Junmyeon nor Jongdae had allowed it. When he called back in question, Jongdae continued. “Are there a lot of crows around here?”

Xiumin paused, his eyes widening just the slightest bit before he answered with a question of his own. “Why do you ask?”

“Your figurines,” he said, gesturing back towards the desk, Xiumin following his gaze. “There are quite a few crows there. And there was one lingering around your shed when we first got here. The damn thing must be shedding feathers, for there is one out here in the snow.”

The tension in Xiumin’s shoulders was immediate, and the man shivered as he looked past Jongdae to the snow outside. Jongdae’s first response was to pull the door a little further closed, trying to shield him from the cold air that was seeping into the cottage. The winter air couldn’t be good for his health.

When Xiumin finally answered, his voice was strained, trembling. “I’ve lived here all of my life, and crows have always been a part of it.”

Jongdae nodded, giving a small shrug as he looked back to Junmyeon, who stood just outside. Once again, he felt like they shouldn’t leave. Not now, when Xiumin was still so visibly shaken by his illness. But staying wasn’t an option. While Xiumin might agree to letting them loiter for a little longer, his mind as well as his body would be unable to rest, still trying to figure out just where he stood with the two of them. It was better to leave.

He would visit soon, with or without Junmyeon. He would make sure of it.

Giving Xiumin a final smile, he bid the man farewell, stepping out to join the prince in what was sure to be a quiet walk back to the castle.

With the door closed firmly behind their backs, neither man witnessed Xiumin’s expression slipping into one of horror.

-

In retrospect, Xiumin knew he didn’t really have the right to be upset over fake personas. After all, he knew all too well the reasons for keeping one’s identity hidden.

Kim Minseok had always liked the name “Xiumin”, which Kou had called him in all the time Minseok had known him. Kou told him it meant jade in some ancient language that was long forgotten, and Minseok had initially been drawn to it for the stone’s simple beauty and high value. As he grew older, however, he realized that Kou had given him the name for other reasons, one being to protect Minseok. Jade stones symbolized protection and strength to overcome the most difficult of hindrances, and Kou believed naming Minseok after the stone would help protect him from darker days to come.

It had not taken long for Minseok to find out about his true lineage. As a child, he had always been bright, quick to catch onto things and details kids his age would usually miss. Like the bird that seemed to linger nearby, or the way Kou seemed wary of ever allowing him to accompany him on his trips to the city. Kou had been aware of this intuition, too, and when Minseok began to ask questions that no young child should ever have to ask, Kou could only answer honestly, knowing he couldn’t keep the boy’s past a secret forever.

Minseok had come to terms with it. He had matured at a young age, something Kou had tried to avoid, and had stayed far away from the city and relationships that could make his fate harder to accept. The fact that he would die before he even had a chance to know how it was to live.

The fire’s light bounced around the interior of his home, flickering in his peripheral vision even when his eyes lingered on the door. He had been up more than once to keep the fire burning, shuffling back and forth across the floor carefully, leaving his bed just long enough to bring the embers back to life. It was important that it kept burning. One thing was the warmth the fire emitted, chasing away the cold winter air. Another was the darkness. He couldn’t handle waking up in the dark tonight.

Minseok slowly rose from the bed again, walking to the fireplace to add more wood. He knew, however, that he could add all of the logs he had, and it would not eliminate the chill that had settled deep within his bones.

Regardless of his internal emotions, his body was in fact warm. Uncomfortable so, with his fever. He had long ago shed his usual night shirt, his linen drawers providing his only coverage other than the thin layer of sweat that enveloped his form. Being so close to the fire was enough to bring back the lightheadedness of before, the heat almost smothering at times, but the fire was essential, and his fever would hopefully break soon.

He reached for the wood, mouth set in a firm line as he stoked the flames, all the while trying to will away the shaking of his hands. Deeming the amount of logs to be fitting for now, he slowly approached the door. Only after he had assured himself that the locks were in place did he retreat to the bed and sit down, placing his hands in his lap as he stole glances at the door, fiddling with the flint Suho had given him.

His body needed rest, still fighting his illness, but his mind wouldn’t allow it fully, too aware of his surroundings, too wrapped up in his thoughts. He knew it was ridiculous, this anxiety he was feeling, his fear getting the better of him.

He feared a lot of things. Darkness, social interactions, memories. Memories, in particular, was something he had a hard time dealing with, bringing about dreams of days best forgotten, things he did not wish to remember. But his memories did not care for his wishes, and came all the same, mostly at night when he was fighting a losing battle with his conscious to stay awake.

During the day, he could occupy his mind with other tasks; but at night, his memories won out, appearing in the form of nightmares. Every year around this month, when the weather was at its worst, he would find himself jolted from sleep night after night, covered in cold sweat and unable to escape the images that burned behind his eyes.

It always started like this, making himself sick with dread and stress, busying himself to the point of exhaustion in hopes that his sleep would be without dreams, his mind too tired to replay his past. He could feel his breath coming quicker, and he knew tonight would be a long one.

Quietly, he flipped the flint within his hand, his eyes finding the door once more.

Already, his senses were playing tricks on him, only heightened by his fear. He had checked the locks no less than four times, but that didn’t stop him from checking again. And again. Because with night settling over the woods, he no longer felt safe. Every creak in the trees, every crunch of snow - all of the sounds were personal, targeting him in his small cottage. And even with the door locked, he couldn’t rest, because not everything could be kept out by wood and iron.

Nothing he did would stop the dreams tonight. Not with the new information he had just learned. Not when he now knew he had a brother.

Suho - Junmyeon, his mind corrected, his name is Junmyeon - had been so nervous, sitting across from him with a conflicted expression. And Minseok had known whatever it was he needed to say was going to sting a little, upset him, but this was more than he would have ever been prepared to handle. Anyone would have been shocked, learning a friend had lied to them, but learning that friend was your brother was like a dagger to Minseok’s heart, twisting just an inch more with every question that followed his realization.

Did Junmyeon know he wasn’t an only child? Did Junmyeon realize who Minseok was? Did he know Junmyeon was visiting him?

His first reaction was to get Junmyeon as far away from Crow as he could, and to make him take Chen - Jongdae - with him. He had never seen the man himself, but he had heard the stories, knew what he had done to his family. They couldn’t stay here. Not when Minseok was in his last year. Not when everyone around him had been taken away.

The newest log popped at the heat of the flames surrounding it, and Minseok flinched away, startled by the noise. He set the flint to the side, freeing his hands to scrub at his face. The fire would be fine for a few hours. He had to stay awake.

He was struck by the similarities he saw between Junmyeon and him. He wasn’t sure if he would have seen it, had he not looked for it, but they both had a handful of shared traits. Stubbornness, for one. They were both incredibly hardheaded. He wondered if such a trait were from their father, or perhaps their mother was the stubborn one. He had seen himself enough to know their looks, while not exactly favoring one another, did have some common points, at least from what he could remember of his reflection. The slope of their noses, the roundness of their chins.

But just as their looks had grown into their own distinctive features, their personalities had grown in opposite directions as well. Junmyeon was outgoing, impulsive, childlike in a way that Minseok envied, having grown up too quickly and fallen to a silent demeanor. He was quick to trust, while Minseok found it easier to avoid others instead. And while Junmyeon might not have cared for his well-being, it seemed to be the only thing Minseok could think about, cautious to a fault.

Fear crept down Minseok’s spine at a sudden thought. Jongdae had mentioned the crow earlier, how the feathers had been left behind. The bird was always careful to stay hidden, even when Minseok knew it was there. If Junmyeon were not concerned with being careful, how long had the crow known he was visiting?

What if it were claiming those he held dear, just like it had done with Kou?

He shook his head violently at the thought, hands the fabric of his blanket. No. No, it couldn’t. There wasn’t any indication that Crow had kept up with the Kim family after his departure from the castle. Kou had kept an eye on the kingdom, had said things looked to be proceeding normally, though he never mentioned a brother. With good reason, he knew, for Minseok would have desperately wished to see him sooner, had he known he existed.

But the crow, the damn crow. He had been waiting for it to show itself again, watching the trees for any sign of the creature, only for its appearance to be revealed through another. If the crow had been lurking outside, had seen Jongdae and Junmyeon, had allowed them to be aware of its presence…

He covered his mouth as his breathing picked up, his chest rising and falling quickly as he willed the bile back down his throat.

The crow knew.

Minseok was on his feet before he realized what he was doing, pushing through the fog that clouded his mind as he stumbled towards the door. His hands fumbled with the lock before flinging his last defense from the weather open, stepping out into the fresh snow.

Nothing moved as his eyes scanned the dark woods surrounding his home, the night air still around him. But it was there. He knew it was there. In every shadow, every hidden branch, every pocket of darkness, the crow was there.

“Stay away from them,” he whispered, shaking his head as he shivered from the cold. Even without the wind, the air was biting at his skin, stealing away what little warmth the fire had provided. But he didn’t care, too driven by his fearful realization.

The others would be targeted. Because of him.

“You want me,” he said again, his voice growing louder with every syllable. “Me. Not them. They are left alone.”

A whine left his lips as his mind flashed with memories and fantasies, his hands covering his ears against the noises that echoed only in his mind, loud and inescapable. Images flickered behind closed eyes, shifting and changing at a terrifying speed as he doubled over, his body shaking from something harsher than winter air.

Red staining the snow. A black feather on a lifeless chest. Jongdae’s body limp on the ground, and Junmyeon… Junmyeon’s face frozen in his scream.

“You stay away,” he shouted to the woods as he staggered a few steps away from the door, the words echoing in the trees as he lashed out at the air, hands pushing away invisible terrors that bombarded his thoughts. “Do you hear me? Stay the away from them!”

His voice cracked over the words, popping like the wood in his fireplace, stressed and overwhelmed. And his breath came in heavy pants, chest pounding with each inhale. And still, the woods remained silent, not a sound given in answer. It was taunting him, and he whimpered at the silence, wishing for something, anything, to happen.

It wasn’t until a particularly violent shiver that Minseok forced himself to turn back to the cottage, disappearing once more inside and shutting the door firmly behind him.

His hand was circled around one of the crow figurines before he registered he had crossed the distance to his desk, the wood sharp against his palm. His upper lip curled into a sneer as he examined the details, the way he had shaped the creature’s form so meticulously, carefully. As if he would forget the damn thing if he didn’t preserve it in pine.

Long fingers closed tighter around the crow, white-knuckled in the grip. He didn’t know why he had carved so many of these birds. It was torturous. Pointless.

The crack of the wooded figure as it hit the back of the fireplace offered only momentary satisfaction, and he lowered himself to sit on his bed in defeat. He was exhausted, watching as the flames consumed the small crow he had spent hours carving, but he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t. If he did, he knew what awaited him.

A shuddered sigh left his lips as he watched the fire burn, the lights flickering and shifting, keeping the shadows at bay, confined to the corners of the room, hidden away for now. But it was only a matter of time before those shadows crept out once again, pulling him into their hold.

He rubbed at his face, biting his lip when tears stung behind his eyelids. He had to stay awake.

But sleep, like his fear, would always win out in the end.

Meg’s AN: Dun dun duuuuuuuuun. And here begins the angst that we have been promising (teasing) for the last few chapters. And we are so excited. Poor, poor Minseok, and his lovely breaking. And those lovely connections we always talk about (and slave over and hope people catch, because well...we are kind of really proud of this story) are all through this update. Lots of little things, as well as very big things. And all in time for Minseok’s birthday! Well, at least for my time. Nat’s however...

But hey! Lots of fun in this one, right? Just wait. More “fun” to come. Plus, the next chapter is super long, so that is something to look forward to! For those who leave us lovely comments, thank you <3 and we appreciate all of the subs and votes! We seriously look forward to them ^^

Nat’s AN: Fun fact: Angst. Anyway-! Yesh, the time has come, dear readers. Soon. Seok breaking is something we love making happen. It’s just… perfect. But yesh, as Meg mentioned, this is just in time for Minseok’s birthday, the darling <33 (At least, her time. Here it’s already tomorrow. Ha, ers.) We usually update when we finish a new chapter, but not this time, because we love you! (And Seok!) Next chapter would have been more fun to upload today, but eh. Nope. So this will have to do. And I mean, finally we see some of the angst we’ve promised since the very beginning. Lovely, no?

Eh, yesh. And next chapter is long. As hell. No kidding. 11.000 words without editing. And pages on Word. Yup. Fun stuff. We don’t know how that happened (background coughing). Hmm… Yesh. I hope you liked this chapter! Questions? Thoughts? Feedback? (Meg’s comment: Curses for what we’ve done to these beloved characters? (Nat’s comment back: Ironic as hell.)) Comment and let us know! We’ll love you if you do <33

Lovely readers, we’ll see you for Chapter 6!