The Beginning
Tales Of FateA/N:
Clearly, I need a better summary and I promise, once I figure out where the story is going, this summary will be altered to better fit the story. First of all, thanks to all my betas for putting up with my outpouring of ideas and the subsequent despairing of ever finishing this in time. I DID NOT in fact, manage to finish this as the story arc is just to big and wide to be written and real life was just a massive burden along with a bad case of writers' block.
Speaking of the mods, they were absolute LIFESAVERS. Amazing people, really. Thank you for dealing with me with so much patience as I battled the dragon of reality.
I hope you guys will enjoy this story where it has ended and I will definitely update the mods once I have completed the fic.
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Thrice you have defied the omens I declared
Gone are the souls you might have spared
The life of one you doth forsaken
In place of all that you have taken.
Blood drawn from the prick of a finger
An eternal sleep he shall fall under
To break this curse, true love’s kiss no longer,
A journey to nightmare yonder.
Jongdae
“Kim Jongdae!” The cry startled him so much that his hand slipped and the arrow flew wide, past the tree he had been aiming for and vanishing into the thick bushes beyond. Shrugging his shoulders, Jongdae reached for another arrow in his quiver but before his fingers could even brush against the red fletching that adorned their family’s arrows, his bow was snatched out of his grip.
“Hey!” He spun around to face his older brother who was glaring back at him, holding his precious bow in his hands.
“Have you forgotten about the suitors? Mother arranged for them to come this afternoon and she will not be pleased if you show up all sweaty and filthy.” Joonmyun’s eyes raked up and down his brother’s body critically, his brow creasing when he realised that Jongdae had worn his nice clothes out to do target practice.
“Excuse you. I do know how to keep myself clean, alright? In any case, there’s no harm in showing up all dirty. At most, it will just scare them away.” Jongdae retorted, snatching the bow out of Joonmyun’s hands.
“Besides, I don’t see why I should be wedded first. You’re the elder one after all.” He turned away from his brother, pulling an arrow out of his quiver. A small smile quirked at his lips when he saw how fast Joonmyun backed up at the sight of the arrow.
“You know why.” His brother’s voice was pained as he stared at the arrow Jongdae nocked to his bow. Jongdae bit the inside of his cheek, focusing on the target board pinned to the trunk of the tree sixty paces away. The arrow was silent as it flew, through the air, sinking into the bark of the tree, dead center. Jongdae walked forward, pulling the weapon out carefully before slipping it back into his quiver.
“Let’s go then.” He stalked right past his brother who followed meekly behind him back into the castle.
//
Jongdae wrinkled his nose as his hand was taken up by a dark skinned prince, a kiss swiftly pressed to his knuckles before the prince began talking. Boy, he could talk.
Jongdae leaned back in his chair to avoid the flying spit as the prince began enthusiastically boasting off his own heroic deeds, speaking of ancient curses and vengeful djinns. His mother sat primly in her seat, pretending to be interested as the prince talked, and talked, and talked.
His gaze wandered off, from the prince to the pile of exotic gifts the visiting princes had brought with them, in search of something he could cause mischief with and possibly help him escape from all these boring meetings.
There were many, many gifts, some wrapped in brown paper, while others stood bare, displaying their strangeness. An odd object caught his eyes and he rose to his feet, his heart rising to his mouth. Ignoring his mother’s startled exclamation, he pointed in the direction of the wooden spinning wheel.
“What is that?” Jongdae knew very well what a spinning wheel was and its uses but he had never seen one with his own eyes, not when his father ordered every single one burned so that Joonmyun would not be at risk. He was just stunned that someone would be so ignorant as to bring one as a gift when the making of them had been banned, yet again for his brother’s well-being.
His father’s eyes followed the direction of his finger and it was with great self-restraint that he did not cry aloud in anger.
“Who, may I ask, brought us such a lovely gift?” He enunciated each word clearly and Jongdae could hear the controlled fury hidden behind his calm façade. He stole a glance in his brother’s direction.
Joonmyun’s face was a mask of dismay as he shrank behind their mother’s throne as if he wanted desperately to put as much distance between him and the fuss their father was kicking up over the gift.
Joonmyun
It was with much envy that he positioned himself by his mother’s throne, watching as the suitors approached. They bore all sorts of gifts and stories with them from their different lands.
His brother was seated on a little footstool at his father’s feet, fidgeting uncomfortably. His mother had forcefully taken Jongdae’s bow away from him and sent it to his room despite his brother’s insistence that he wanted it there for comfort, asserting that it was uncouth for a prince to appear before an audience with a weapon other than a sword at his hip.
Joonmyun yearned to be a part of something like this. He was never to be wedded, having been born with a curse that would put him to eternal sleep on his twenty-fourth birthday. A day that was fast approaching. His parents had already given him up as a lost cause when no sorcerer in the kingdom could reverse the spell and quickly turned their attention to the younger prince.
Joonmyun made up for his curse by trying to be the best in everything he could be. He stayed up later in the library, doing paperwork that his father had given to him, practicing his sword fighting in the arena for as long as he could stand on his two feet.
But archery was forbidden to him as was any sharp objects with a point. His father had burned every single spinning wheel in the kingdom the moment they realised the curse could not be nullified before his twenty-fourth birthday and banned any sort of needlework from being done anywhere near his son.
So Joonmyun turned to sword fighting for pleasure and swimming when he wanted to clear his mind. Jongdae never really took to the water like he did and thus, he had the lake all to himself. As the first suitor began speaking in a high pitched and excited tone, boasting of his heroic deeds, Joonmyun caught Jongdae rolling his eyes and had to stifle a smile.
He smoothed down his blazer and looked across the hall at where the suitors had left their gifts. To his surprise, he spotted a wooden spinning wheel standing amongst the other offerings. Squeezing his eyes shut, he muttered a quick prayer that his father would not notice the offending gift.
But alas, his prayers went unanswered as Jongdae rose to his feet, loudly questioning the spinning wheel that had been standing innocently in its corner.
Joonmyun bit down hard on his lip as he attempted to melt into the side of his mother’s throne in embarrassment as his father began to forcefully demand an answer as to why anyone would have dared to even bring the wheel in as a gift, his voice thundering with its quiet fury.
The crowd of suitors tittered among themselves as the king began to rant on and on about the safety of his son, questioning eyes turning in Joonmyun’s direction.
His cheeks hot with humiliation, the eldest prince slipped away silently in the heat of his father’s tirade, disappearing out of the throne room.
Jongdae
Jongdae did not stay to watch his brother steal away in mortification. Taking advantage of his father’s outburst, he crept out of his seat and fled for the safety of his room. He had no doubts that his mother would be up looking for him later but for now, he only wished to be by himself, in the quiet of his chambers.
Joonmyun would have bolted too, to hide in the respite of the willow trees planted by the lake he so loved to swim in. He could never handle the stares that accompanied announcements of his curse. Weak. Jongdae snorted, picking up the longbow that had been set carefully upon his bed by a servant.
The guilt was an immediate reaction, a voice in the back of his mind chastising him for being harsh. He rubbed his fingers over the smooth wood of his bow, a recent birthday gift from his brother. Joonmyun was always good to him, despite how uptight he was and Jongdae hated it.
He wanted to hate his brother for being the cursed one, causing the burden of inheriting the throne to fall on his shoulders. For still being the perfect son, fitting for the throne and the one everyone pitied. But the guilt always swallowed him before the fire of resentment could consume him. Because it was not Joonmyun’s fault that he was cursed.
It was their father’s.
Joonmyun
Thrice you have defied the omens I declared
Gone are the souls you might have spared
The life of one you doth forsaken
In place of all that you have taken.
Blood drawn from the prick of a finger
An eternal sleep he shall fall under
To break this curse, true love’s kiss no longer,
An adventure to nightmare yonder.
The words were directed at his father but the magic was sunken deep into the bones and blood of the unborn child in his wife’s womb.
Joonmyun turned the words over and over in his head, pulling up a blade of grass for every word that crossed his mind. The curse was ingrained into every fibre of his being. He could recite the words that made up the spell that would steal his life, had stolen the life he had been born to lead, backwards, forwards and in his sleep.
This is all Father’s fault. He snarled under his breath, yanking up a handful of grass in fury. Dirt clung to the poor dangling roots of the plants, filling the air with its fresh scent. He could still remember the sorceress’s earthy perfume, the musical lilt of her voice as she uttered the words that had sealed his fate.
It was her who allowed the memories to linger, though they should have faded with age. He was only a babe at the time. There was no way that he should have been able to even form words. But words he formed, by the age of two, scribbling his curse onto bits of paper while his mother looked on in shock and disbelief.
A prodigy, everyone exclaimed when he finally finished, black ink smeared all over his hands and face, staring down a paragraph of words that should not have made sense to a two-year-old prince but did, for they were the verses that would shape his life.
Not a prodigy. Joonmyun thought bitterly as he let the handful of grass fall into his lap. Only a curse that gives and takes away everything.
His twenty-fourth birthday would come upon him in two nights. He had only two nights left of his “normal” life before the curse would set in, taking his consciousness and him on a journey to nightmare lands.
Jongdae
“I am very disappointed in you, Jongdae.” His mother’s disapproving gaze burned into his forehead as he sliced neatly into the steak set before him.
“What else is new?” He muttered and his brother shot him a sharp glare. Jongdae’s eyes narrowed and he stabbed the meat with an unnecessary fervour.
“Drawing all that attention to your brother when you know how delicate his situation is, and using it as a way to escape your duty. Why, I never thought you would stoop so low, Jongdae.” His mother was watching him across the table, aghast.
Her knife and fork were set carefully beside her plate, the food untouched. She sat primly in her seat, watching her youngest son eat.
“I don’t want to get married, Mother. I have said that a million times over.” Jongdae replied, putting another slice of meat into his mouth. He glared across the table at his father, who was focusing all of his attention cutting up steak.
“It is your…”
“Duty. I know, Mother! But it isn’t my fault that Father thought that it was a great idea to ignore the warnings of a sorceress, thus getting my brother cursed! Why should I be punished for someone else’s deeds?” The prince dropped his cutlery with a loud clang, snarling.
Joonmyun
Joonmyun flinched, his hands trembling. He dropped his gaze, when his father looked up, eyes burning like coals.
“That is enough. Jongdae, you will apologise to your mother and attend to the suitors tomorrow morning. I will not stand for your attitude any longer. You will be the Crown Prince two days from now and you should start acting like it.”
Joonmyun kept his eyes on his food when his brother let out an outraged cry and pushed his chair away from the table.
“So you’re giving up on your son? The curse only said that Myun would fall asleep, not be dead!” Jongdae snarled, rising to his feet.
“Jongdae!” The queen’s tone was shocked. Unable to stand the discussion any longer, Joonmyun dropped his fork and knife onto the plate. He had lost his appetite.
“Dae, it’s alright. Apologise to Mother and Father. I am not feeling too well, please excuse me.” His voice shook as he backed away from the table, leaving the room as calmly as he could.
The servants he passed in the halls turned to look and he had to resist the urge to break into a run and hide in his chambers.
Footsteps followed him and without turning, he knew who it was.
“Dae. Go back and finish your meal, please. You’ve made enough mischief for one night.” He spoke, still walking in the direction of his room.
“I was trying to help you, hyung. You would see that if you’d take your head out of the sand for one moment and stop feeling sorry for yourself!” Jongdae was yelling, the concern he had been about to show dissipating at his brother’s harsh words.
“There is nothing to help, Jongdae. We have been groomed our whole lives for this. You will succeed the throne while I journey to Nightmare and what lays beyond.” Joonmyun said plainly, stopping in his tracks. He turned to face his brother, his face drawn tight with sadness.
“I don’t want the throne. I don’t want your birthright, Myun. I don’t want your duties as Crown Prince and I certainly don’t want to be forced into a marriage of alliance.” Jongdae’s body was tense as he stared down the hall at his brother.
Joonmyun shook his head, turning to continue on his way.
“You don’t have a choice, Dae. It will all come to pass as it should.”
He was too far away to hear his brother’s next words, whispered softly but so full of passion.
“Never.”
Jongdae
“Where do you think you’re going, little brother?” Jongdae froze, every muscle in his body stiffening as his fists clenched around the leather of his saddle. Of course, it would be Joonmyun who would catch him, the one person he could never sweet talk his way out of. Sometimes, Jongdae really wondered if his brother had a stick permanently rammed up his .
He turned around slowly, grimacing when he saw the crease between his brother’s brows in the moonlight. Joonmyun was dressed in his night clothes, a soft silver tunic that brought out the deep blue flecks in his eyes. For a moment, Jongdae could only stare.
He would definitely miss his brother, no matter how much he told himself he detested Joonmyun for being the perfect son that his parents adored, therefore casting him into shadow. But you don’t want that life. He reminded himself furiously as his eyes slid to meet his brother’s. You don’t want the rigidity of royal life and be forced into a loveless marriage.
But for a moment, he let himself imagine what it would feel like to be Joonmyun, the textbook example of a prince, faultless to a point. What it would feel like if he stayed behind.
“Dae?” The older prince’s voice was soft and his eyes were full of sorrow as he approached his brother, reaching out to lay his hand upon Jongdae’s arm. He jerked away, the image of himself sitting upon a throne that should belong rightfully to his elder brother filling him with shame and guilt, feelings that were always accompanied with anger.
“What?’ He snapped, whipping his arm away, his horse letting out a surprised snort at the sudden movement. Ignoring the guilt that rose up in his throat at the hurt look that flashed across Joonmyun’s face, he made to put his feet in the stirrups.
“Jongdae.” The kicked puppy look was gone, replaced by measured, careful tones. Joonmyun’s fingers hooked like claws into the fabric of his cloak, yanking him back. Jongdae yelped in shock when he tumbled back, falling backwards into the circle of his brother’s arms, his back slamming into Joonmyun’s chest.
“What the hell?!” The prince spun around, his hands finding the elder’s chest and he shoved him hard, causing his brother to stumble back in shock.
Joonmyun
“Don’t swear.” Joonmyun reprimanded, his eyes narrowing as he studied Jongdae’s defensive stance. His brother was tense, a look of defiance etched onto his features. His beloved bow and quiver were slung across his back and the saddlebags that hung from his horse looked full, as if he was planning for a long trip. And Jongdae himself was wrapped in an inconspicuous velvet hunter green cloak that Joonmyun had given to him as a birthday gift.
“You’re running away.” Realisation dawned upon the prince and Jongdae stiffened, the set line of his mouth giving him away.
“So what if I am?” He gritted out through clenched teeth and Joonmyun felt a hot wave of anger sweep over him. The nerve of him! He had everything that should have been mine and more!
“How can you even think to do such a thing?! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out there? Not to mention the worry and grief you would cause our family! Mother would be frantic!” Jongdae rolled his eyes, reaching for the bridle of his horse once more.
“I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Besides, it is you who wishes to sit upon the throne, ruling the stuffy nobles, not me. I have no desire to subject myself to the whims of any suitors, much less marry any one of them. So, you are welcome to them, if they would have you.” The last sentence stung, full of spite and conceit that he did not mean. He only wished to rile his brother up a little more, to see him show some sort of emotional rise.
Joonmyun’s cheeks flushed in the light of the pale moon and he reached out a hand, fingers closing around the strap of his brother’s quiver before Jongdae could react.
“You're not going.” He snapped and yanked hard, with all intention of pulling the quiver off Jongdae’s body. The quiver tilted dangerously and the red fletched arrows within poured out, sharp tips narrowly missing his bare feet.
Jongdae twisted, releasing the horse with a shout of anger. His eyes flashed with fury as he glared at his elder brother. Joonmyun stared right back at him, chin tilted up as if daring him to disagree.
“I'm going and you can't stop me.” Jongdae knelt, gathering up a bunch of his arrows in one sweep. He plucked one from the bunch and held it up like a dart. Joonmyun’s eyes widened and he backed away immediately.
“You wouldn't.” He breathed when Jongdae took a determined step towards him. Jongdae smirked but his heart twisted. He would never hurt his own brother. Not on the pain of death.
“No, I wouldn't.” With those words, Jongdae flung the arrow forward, aiming it wide where he was sure it would miss before spinning around. His fingers closed around the solid leather of his saddle and he swung himself astride, clapping his heels to the sides of his horse harshly.
“Go!”
“Jongdae!”
Joonmyun darted aside with a cry of shock when the arrow flew towards him, the night breeze blowing it carelessly aside.
By the time he had recovered from the shock, the rear end of his brother’s stallion was already vanishing out of the tall black iron gates that guarded their palace.
“Milord!” There were soldiers running towards him, faces creased in concern as they took in their prince’s dishevelled state. Joonmyun stumbled when one of them caught him by the arms, thinking that he might feel faint.
“I am alright.” He snapped, waving off the next soldier who had come to his aid. Pushing aside the guards that stood in his way, he bent, fingers closing around the arrow that Jongdae had left behind.
“Don’t touch that, Your Highness.” The warning came too late as Joonmyun straightened, the weapon enclosed in his hands.
“It is alright. I haven’t touched the tip.” The prince forced a smile, looking up into the guard’s eyes. The guard looked wary as he eyed the arrow in the prince’s hand, moonlight glinting off its point. Jongdae always had his arrows sharpened to a razor-sharp tip.
“Might I take…”
“No!” Joonmyun backed away from the guard, cradling the arrow close to him as if it were something precious. The guard was staring at him, bewildered.
The Crown Prince had never raised his voice, not even once. Joonmyun was only dimly aware of what was happening around him, feeling rage and helplessness well up in his body.
Turning on his heel, he stalked back towards the palace, arrow clutched tightly in his hands. The guards chased after him, he knew. He could hear their alarmed cries as he broke into a run, sprinting past the castle staff towards the east tower, to the tiny little room that had, until now, had always been locked.
He was panting, chest heaving from the run when he pulled the key from his pocket, slipping the iron into the keyhole. The guards were clanking noisily as they ran up the stairs, his mother’s alarmed cries following close by.
Joonmyun flung open the door and collapsed onto the bed, moonlight glinting off the metal tip of his brother’s arrow.
The king and queen arrived in the doorway, just in time to see him press the tip of his index finger upon the razor tip, a tiny bead of red falling onto the stark white sheets below.
“Joonmyun!” The Crown Prince blinked slowly as if shaking off a spell. His mother was by his side, hands grasping his shoulders and his father was pulling the arrow out of his hands.
“What have you done?!” The cries blurred in his ears and Joonmyun closed his eyes gladly as a wave of dizziness overcame him.
Well done, little one. The voice was female and gentle, a cold hand caressing his cheek. Joonmyun exhaled softly.
Let all that has to happen come to pass. He thought, welcoming the darkness gladly, the dull buzz of his parents’ exclamations finally fading to silence.
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