A/N: It's been awhile since I've done a fairytale, so I'm finally back with a new one! This one is based off Sleeping Beauty, but as always contains a few twists of my own. This will also be my first fairytale two-shot! The final part will be coming next week, same time, same place. I hope you enjoy! (and, if you're new to my fairytales, please check out The Prince and the Glass Hill, The Boy in the Tower, The Little Merman, East of the Sun West of the Moon, and The Prince and the Pea ^^)

Once upon a time in a very small kingdom tucked to the south where the wheat was tall and the people lived simple but happy lives as farmers and shepherds, there lived a king and a queen who ruled over them kindly and fairly. The kingdom was not very rich or strong, but the king and queen were good, industrious people who believed in hard work and dedication, and under their guidance, the people were able to grow and harvest their crops and raise their livestock to the best of their powers, and their lives were comfortable and contented, if not particularly exciting.

One autumn, in the middle of reaping season, a prince was born to the king and queen, and the people of the kingdom celebrated in the streets, toasting the dear child and dancing with joy at this new blessing. The king and queen loved the simplicity of these festivities, but it was the custom of all the kingdoms to throw a formal christening in the palace with all the faerie queens in attendance when a royal heir was born. And any party the faerie queens attended had to be decadent, complete with golden plates and goblets, and gorgeous decorations like flawlessly stitched tapestries and marble statues.

The king and queen did not have many decadent things in their kingdom, but scraped together what they could. When the day of the christening came, they were satisfied that the palace was as beautiful as it could be. There was only one problem: there were seven faerie queens, but they only had six golden plates.

“It is nothing to worry about,” the king said confidently. “The faerie Queen Flaxie hasn’t been seen in over one hundred years. She will not come.”

“But if she does, and we do not have a proper plate for her…” the queen fretted.

“There is nothing to fear. She would not come to her first christening in one hundred years in a kingdom barely anyone has heard of. That would not make for a grand re-entrance. She will not come.”

So the king and queen set the table for six faerie queens and opened the palace door to their guests.

In stepped the faeries: Slipper, Versa, Olympia, Lark, Mirra, and Charity. And then, at a distance another faerie followed. It was Queen Flaxie.

The king and queen paled, looking at each other in fear. If they gave one of the queens something lesser to what they gave the others, it would be a grave insult. But what could they do? They had no more gold to spare, and they could no more take away another faerie’s plate than they could leave Queen Flaxie with nothing.

They bowed low to Flaxie when she entered. “Your Majesty,” the king said in a shaky voice. “We did not know you would come, and we do not have a golden plate prepared for you and none to offer. We can give you our best silver plate, but we have no more gold to spare.”

Queen Flaxie stared down at them, her eyes narrowed. “I am the patron faerie of your kingdom, and you did not prepare for me to come?”

The king and queen exchanged a glance of alarm. They had no idea that Flaxie had anything to do with their kingdom—she had not attended the current king’s christening, so they had thought she cared for them as little as the rest of the world did.

“You have forgotten,” Flaxie said in a cold voice. “You have forgotten what your kingdom owes to me. I am the queen of plants and harvest, and it is through my blessing that your crops thrive and your people can remain fed.”

The king and queen prostrated themselves before her. “We were careless, glorious queen,” they said. “Forgive us our ignorance. But even if we scoured the kingdom for gold to melt down into a plate, there would not be enough to make one big enough to serve you.”

Queen Flaxie huffed, bristling in anger at this disgrace. She had felt herself too important to attend these christenings, but now that she had finally deigned to show herself at one, they treated her this shabbily? She decided that she was going to teach these country bumpkin mortals a lesson. “Fine, I will accept your silver,” she snapped. “But I will see to it that this kingdom never forgets about me and all that it owes me ever again.”

The faeries sat down to their meal, six with golden plates and one with silver. The faerie Olympia observed as Flaxie grumbled and scowled down at her silver plate, and began to become anxious. The faerie queens had a tradition of imparting blessings on the newborn heirs, but she had a feeling that Flaxie would deliver a curse instead. She resolved to fade into the background and save her blessing for last, in case she would need to undo the damage Flaxie caused.

When the time for blessings came, the king and queen brought out their newborn son and introduced him to all the faeries. “This is our son, Jinyoung,” the queen said with pride, her distress temporarily forgotten. “He will be our gift to the kingdom, the sweetest and kindest of princes.”

“Upon Jinyoung, I impart beauty,” Mirra said, tapping her wand to his forehead. “He will be the most handsome boy in this kingdom.”

“I impart the gift of voice,” Lark said. “Whether speaking or singing, whatever falls from his mouth will be a delight for all to hear.”

“I impart the gift of dance,” said Slipper. “He will be light on his feet and as graceful as a ballerina.”

“I impart the gift of words,” Versa said. “He will be a sublime poet, writer, and reader.”

“I impart the gift of goodness,” said Charity. “He will be kind, generous, and caring to all the people he serves.”

Then, at last, Flaxie stepped forward, wand at the ready. “Upon the child of those who forgot me, I will give the gift of remembrance. He and this worthless kingdom will remember me forever when, on the day of his seventeenth birthday, he pricks his finger on a spindle and dies!”

The other faeries gasped in horror as a burst of power shot from his wand and entered into Jinyoung. The young prince began to wail in fright, and the queen burst into tears before falling into the ground in a faint.

With a laugh, Flaxie tossed her blonde hair and stormed from the palace, leaving it in chaos. Servants waved smelling salts under the queen’s nose, and the nursemaid tried to calm the prince into quiet, trying not to think that the one she was holding in her arms was fated to die before even reaching adulthood.

“Calm yourselves!” Olympia thundered, stepping forward. “I have not yet given my gift, remember.” She stepped forward, placing a hand on Jinyoung’s forehead. The child stilled, looking up at her curiously. “This child will not die on his seventeenth birthday,” she said. “Upon him, I impart the gift of endurance. He will prick his finger, but instead of dying, he will fall into a sleep of one hundred years, and will be awakened by true love’s kiss.”

The queen and king wept in gratitude, relieved at the promised deliverance of their son. Still, one hundred years was such a long time—they would be dead long before he woke, and would only have seventeen short years to spend with him. Still, it was better that he lived, even if they had such a brief time to spend with him. But how would they be able to treat him like a normal child when they knew he was fated to be taken from them so soon?

They resolved to burn all spindles in the kingdom. They would give up all sewing and spinning, and import their clothing from other kingdoms if it saved them from facing the implications of the curse. If Jinyoung never laid eyes on a single spindle in all of his life, there would be nothing to prick his fingers on, would there?

By time Jinyoung was ten, he’d already decided he didn’t want to be a prince.

It wasn’t that he hated everything having to do with it. He liked dancing in the ballroom. He loved singing with the palace choir. He loved reading in the library. He loved meeting his people and finding ways to do nice things for them.

But he hated being pampered, and every single person in the palace treated him like he was a fragile porcelain doll who would break if even the slightest rough wind touched him. He was barely allowed to go outside unless there was a full guard accompanying him, and even when he was outside, he wasn’t allowed to run around and play lest he fall and hurt himself. Whenever he asked why, the answer was always the same: because you’re a prince. You have to stay safe. You have to be careful.

And so Jinyoung decided he didn’t want to be a prince. He wanted to be like the sons of the farmers who got to run freely through the fields and ride on horses and feel the touch of the sun on their skin. He dreamed of living in a farming cottage with a cozy fireplace where life was a balance of hard work and simple pleasures, one where he didn’t have to be coddled or protected because he would know how to be strong and self-sufficient.

But he would never learn how to be a farmer if he was stuck inside all the time having lessons and being careful. So he began hatching a plan to sneak out to see the world that had been hidden from him firsthand. He knew exactly where he would go first, too: to the pasture down the river from the palace where a flock of sheep grazed in late spring. He had seen it a number of times from the window of the carriage when he went to and from the farmer’s market with his parents, and he knew a boy around his age was often there to tend to the sheep and make sure they didn’t wander into the roads or the river. It felt like he had watched that boy grow up alongside him, in a way. He’d seen him for the first time years ago, in the fields with his father learning how to approach the sheep gently and what to do when they got spooked. And he’d seen him every year since then, little by little learning his trade until he could mind the sheep on his own.

Jinyoung dearly wanted to know that boy. He wanted to be like him and spend his days in a warm pasture among the gentle sheep, skipping stones and playing a pan flute like he often saw the boy doing in his downtime. He wanted to spend time with someone like that and have a friend outside of all the palace courtiers who never played with him because they were too afraid of him accidentally getting hurt. He wanted to know how a boy outside the palace walls would speak and think, and how the world would look to someone like him.

So, one day when Jinyoung accompanied his father to the market to discuss this year’s crops with the local farmers, he waited until a wagon filled with horse feed came down the main road and hopped in the back while the king was distracted in scanning a document regarding output estimates. Jinyoung hid himself behind the bags of feed, holding his breath as the wagon rumbled down the road. No one noticed he was gone or started chasing after the wagon. He released his breath, a feeling of giddy excitement sweeping over him. This felt like the first real adventure of his life.

When the wagon passed near the pasture, Jinyoung lept down, stumbling a little on the dirt road and scraping his hands when he attempted to catch himself. He’d never felt anything like it before, and though it hurt, he was strangely happy about the newness of the experience. He felt like most people scraped themselves years before they were ten years old, and that he was finally catching up to them.

Wiping his hands off on his trousers, he ran towards the field, delighting in the sight and smell of the green grass. He tore off his shoes and tossed them into the air, gasping at how cool and ticklish the grass was against his feet. He dug his toes into the soft soil, then threw himself down into the grass, rolling in it wildly and laughing at the freedom of it. He’d never been dirty in his life. He’d never seen the sky looking so bright and open overhead.

Jinyoung rolled over onto his back, stretching his hands towards that open and beautiful sky. A gentle breeze tickled across his skin, and birds soared above him, their voices supplying a gentle melody he almost wanted to dance to.

And then, a face appeared above him, leaning down to stare into his face. It was the shepherd boy. This was Jinyoung’s first time seeing him up close, and the shock of having him right there, close enough to touch, struck Jinyoung silent for a moment. He was a handsome lad, a blend of all the characteristics of one who lived off the land—a strong body, tanned skin, rough hands, and a healthy glow of vigor—and the startling characteristics which Jinyoung associated with faeries—a delicate face, hair like spun gold, and eyes like bottomless pools.

Jinyoung sat up, his body feeling another rush of energy. “We finally meet,” he said, grinning up at the boy.

“Yes,” the boy said, scratching his head. “But I wasn’t expecting you to go rolling around in the grass like that. It doesn’t seem very princelike.”

Jinyoung’s eyes widened. “You know who I am?”

“Of course. You pass this way a lot, in your carriage. I’ve seen you in the market, too. You’re Prince Jinyoung.”

“I’ve seen you from the carriage, too!” Jinyoung said eagerly, leaping to his feet. “I want to be friends. Would you please tell me your name?”

The boy hesitated a moment. “I’m Mark. But begging your pardon, I don’t know very much about royalty and princes and stuff.”

“That’s fine!” Jinyoung said. “Being royalty is boring. I think being a shepherd looks much more interesting. Do you name your sheep?”

Mark shook his head. “Most of them look the same, so it’s hard to keep them straight. I usually just call them all Doofus.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re not very smart. They’re always trying to wander into the river, even though they can’t swim. And they get turned around and confused and mess each other up until they’re all going the wrong way and doing things they’re not supposed to.” He tilted his head. “Do you really think being a shepherd looks exciting?”

Jinyoung nodded earnestly. “I do. You must know how to do all kinds of interesting things, I bet. Shearing. Delivering baby ewes. Scaring away wolves.”

Mark snorted. “Come off it. You’re a prince, so you must have read loads of books and know a little bit of everything. The only thing I learned in school was how to count and add. I can’t even read.”

“But the whole world is your school!” Jinyoung said, gesturing broadly. “You learn through experience, not books. I’ve never experienced anything. Or at least not anything that regular people experience. I’ve never skipped a stone or raced anyone or turned a cartwheel. This is my first time touching grass with my bare feet.”

“Really?”

“Really. I want to try all sorts of things. And you’re the person I want to try them with.”

“Why?”

“Because…because you’re…you’re someone I feel like I know already. You don’t feel like a stranger. Ever since I first saw you, I’d make up stories about you in my head. Imagine your adventures. Think about spending a day in the pastures with you. You haven’t named your sheep, but I have.” He pointed to the flock. “The biggest one is Hildegard. The one next to her in Nela. The little one is-“

Mark started laughing a little. “All right, all right, you made your point, Your Highness. I guess I’ve done that, too. Imagined what it would be like for you in the palace. Wondered about being a prince.”

“There’s nothing special about it,” Jinyoung said dismissively. “In fact, I wish you wouldn’t call me ‘Your Highness’. I’d prefer it if you used ‘Jinyoung.’”

“Isn’t that…I dunno…disrespectful?”

“Not at all. I’d rather be just Jinyoung any day.” He bounced on his heels. “So…wanna race me?”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh. I probably won’t be very fast since it’s my first time doing it, but I wanna try.” He grabbed his shoes. “Come on! It’ll be fun!”

It was indeed fun, even though he lost by a huge margin. Everything they did that afternoon was fun. Mark taught him how to skip stones, turn cartwheels, and make wishes on dandelions. Then, as payment, he asked Jinyoung to teach him how to dance, and they pretended to be like the stuffy lords and ladies bowing and curtseying to each other before prancing around like peacocks, erupting into giggles.

When they were tired of playing, they plopped down by the sheep and started talking. Mark was rather quiet and soft-spoken, but he was very funny and entertaining, and Jinyoung found himself liking him more and more as time passed. He’d imagined what he’d be like for a long time, but the reality of him was more engaging, more fleshed out. He knew a lot of fascinating things, and seemed to understand the world better than Jinyoung did, who only saw it through the lens of stories and books, rather than through actual people. He was also two years older, and so was far more informed about adult things like courting and who in the village was interested in who.

“Do you think you’ll court someone soon?” Jinyoung asked.

Mark shook his head. “I’m not interested. What about you? There must be a princess your family has in mind for you.”

Jinyoung furrowed his brow. “It’s funny, but my father said it would be a long, long time before I’d have to think of that.”

“Huh. I mean, you’re only ten, but you’ll be an adult in eight years. That’s not that long.”

“It’s all right. I don’t want to marry any princesses anyways. If I do, I’ll be doomed to be a prince forever. And I don’t want to be.”

“What would you rather do?”

“Me? Hmm.” He thought. “Let’s build a farm together, you and me.”

“Really?”

“Really! You’re good with animals, so you can raise livestock. And I think I must be pretty good with plants, right? I haven’t tried growing anything, but I must be good.”

“Why do you think?”

“Because I was blessed by the seven faerie queens when I was a baby. Queen Flaxie is the faerie of growing things, and since she blessed me, I must be good at it.” He grinned. “We could have a big farm with crops and animals, and it would be fun, because we’d run it together. Doesn’t that sound like a great idea?”

Mark studied him, biting his lip. “It does. But it’s not real, right, Jinyoung?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t just stop being a prince. I mean, who would rule over the kingdom if you didn’t do it?”

Jinyoung frowned. He’d never really thought of it like that before. It would make him feel bad if the people had no one to look after them. But did that mean he was supposed to give up the life he wanted, even if he would hate it?

Mark tilted his head. “Let’s worry about all that later, Jinyoung. We’re friends now, right? So let’s just focus on having fun as friends. Do you really think we’ll be able to meet again? Won’t you get in trouble?”

Jinyoung nodded. “Oh, I’ll definitely get in trouble. But I know a secret way out of the palace gardens I could use. I probably won’t be able to come during the day again, but why don’t we meet up at night?”

Mark thought about it, and nodded. “There’s some fields nearby the palace where the sheep could graze. I’ll bring them over there in the evenings. How about that?”

“That would be perfect!” Jinyoung grinned so hard his face hurt from it, filled with the joy of having a friend for the very first time. “I’ll try to come see you every night that I can sneak out!”

They swore to visit each other as often as they could with a pinkie promise. Right after, Jinyoung heard the guards start hollering for him, and knew he had to leave the pasture so he wouldn’t get Mark in trouble.

“I’ll see you soon, Mark!” he said with a wave. “Thanks for playing with me!”

“See you soon, Jinyoung!” Mark said, smiling back at him. “I’ll wait for you until then!”

Next time was longer in coming than Jinyoung wanted. His father and guards were so infuriated with him for his little disappearing act, especially since he’d come back filthy and with scraped up hands, that they barred him from leaving the palace and kept him under close watch. It was weeks before they were distracted enough by a visiting ambassador for him to escape their notice. When they were in the middle of their discussions, he feigned going to bed early, slipped out of his window, into the garden, and out the secret exit and into freedom.

Mark was waiting for him in the nearby pasture as promised, his face lighting up as soon as he saw Jinyoung approaching. “You came!” He said, grinning excitedly. “I thought you’d gotten in trouble so much that I’d never see you again.”

“I did get in trouble,” Jinyoung said. “But when they get busy with important things, sometimes they forget I’m there. I’m still too young to be involved in the political stuff, so I was able to escape their notice.”

“Well, that’s their loss.” Mark gestured to a basket resting near his feet. “I’ve been bringing some things for us to do when you came. Wanna get started?”

“You bet!” Jinyoung said, practically bouncing up and down on his heels. He’d been waiting for this, and it felt in a strange way, even though he’d only been with Mark the once, that he had finally come home.

Mark had brought a number of things for them to play with. They started with a game of wooden pins which they tried to knock over with a ball (Mark was good at it, and Jinyoung was terrible even having been supposedly blessed by the faerie queen Olympia who bestowed athletic prowess), and when they were tired of that, Mark brought out jars with holes poked through the top and they collected fireflies. Everything again felt like the most fun Jinyoung had ever had. Mark filled everything he did with energy, and he was never over-cautious with Jinyoung the way everyone else was.

When they were tired of playing, they peeled off their shoes and dipped their feet in the river. Jinyoung tipped his head back and looked at the night sky full of stars, and Mark studied the spires of the royal palace in the distance.

“You know, I remember looking at the palace when I was a little kid,” he said in a distant voice. “I used to think it belonged in some other world. That passing into it would be like passing through the boundary of the mortal world into the faerie realm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s so different from the world I know. So fancy and glittering.”

Jinyoung nodded. “I guess I felt the same way. When I entered your pasture for the first time, it felt like I was entering into a dream.”

“Maybe we’re still dreaming now.”

“It feels real.” Jinyoung kicked up his feet, splashing Mark with the river water, and Mark laughed and splashed him back. “Anyways, it’s not really so special. Living in the palace. My parents won’t let me do anything because they’re afraid I’ll get hurt or they’ll lose me or something.”

“A lot of parents are protective of their children.”

“But they protect me too hard. My whole life, they’ve treated me like I could vanish at any second. Like if they’re not careful, I’ll disappear forever. I know safety is important, but I don’t want to go through my whole life only ever being protected and kept safe. There are things more important than that.”

“Like what?”

“Like this.” Jinyoung gestured broadly. “Living. Doing things. Having fun. The time I’ve spent with you is the only time in my life where I’ve even felt real.”

Mark nodded slowly. “I think I understand what you mean. I think wanting to protect someone or something is OK. That’s what I do. I protect the sheep. I keep them safe. But I also think everything else is important. I can do that for you, right? I can look out for you and make sure nothing bad happens to you. But I can also have fun with you and try new things, just like this. Would that be all right?”

Jinyoung considered for a bit, then nodded. “That’s fine. Just don’t worry about me too much, OK? I want to do all sorts of things, and I don’t mind getting scraped a bit.”

“I won’t,” Mark promised. “We’ll do as many fun things as you like.”

“Do you have a kite?” Jinyoung asked. “I’ve always wanted to fly one.”

“Yeah, I think so. Do you want me to bring it next time?”

“Definitely! I want to see how high it can go!”

“All right, then.” Mark rested his head on Jinyoung’s shoulder for a brief moment before lifting it up again. “I’ll wait for you until then.”

There were many next times after that. Next time after next time after next time. Whenever Jinyoung could, he would slip out of his window and to their secret place, and they would spend hours together under the stars, playing and talking about anything they wanted to. The nights he spent with Mark were the best of his life. With him, he could at last feel free and unburdened, alive in a way where it didn’t feel like he was at risk of vanishing into thin air. Mark listened to him and understood him in a way that no one else did, and he took everything Jinyoung said seriously, even his sillier worries and thoughts that anyone else would laugh at.

And as time passed, they began to try new things. When Mark turned thirteen, he asked Jinyoung to teach him how to read, and in turn Jinyoung asked him to teach him how to do practical things like build a fire, shear a sheep, and go hunting with a bow and arrow. They shared everything together, and it felt like there was never anything that passed through their minds that they couldn’t tell the other about.

But as they began to get older, things slowly started to shift. The perfect naturalness and comfort Jinyoung usually felt with Mark occasionally turned into something more anxious and nerve-wracking. It was because of his eyes, Jinyoung thought. The look in his eyes was too deep. His smile was too captivating. His face was too handsome—and that was saying something, considering Jinyoung was blessed by the faerie queen Mirra to be the handsomest in the kingdom. His heart was too good, and his manner too kind. Jinyoung felt at times, inexplicably, like he wanted to be at the center of Mark’s notice at all times. He wanted to be spoiled and taken care of by him, even though he hated being fussed over more than anything. Sometimes he even felt bitter when Mark turned his attention to his sheep rather than focusing on him.

The worst of it came on the day of the spring festival the year Jinyoung was thirteen. It was one of the only times he could see Mark outside of their time under the stars since the royal family celebrated the festivities together with the commonfolk. Jinyoung could usually spend the day openly at Mark’s side, though the presence of his guards generally kept them from doing anything truly fun like throwing horseshoes or racing the other village children.

That year, Jinyoung had gone to the stables to find Mark where they usually met up. But as he approached, Jinyoung saw that there was a girl in a pretty dress with him at the entrance of the stables. She was talking to him while blushing and staring shyly at her feet, and every once in awhile she would nervously tuck a strand of soft brown hair behind her ear. Mark was listening to her attentively, nodding at intervals and once even releasing that gawky chuckle that Jinyoung selfishly only wanted to come out because of him.

Watching them made Jinyoung feel something he’d never felt. It felt like the blood in his heart was boiling over and that he was on the verge of erupting like a volcano, spewing indiscriminate anger and bitterness from him until he was emptied out inside. He didn’t know who the girl was, but he felt—unfairly, he knew—like he hated her more than he’d ever hated anyone in the world. He was angry at Mark for talking to her. He was angry at himself for being so angry over such a commonplace thing. He didn’t know what to do, and he couldn’t bear watching anymore, so he his heel and stormed off, fuming in frustration. He wanted to kick or punch something, but he’d probably wind up hurting himself in the process and his parents would confine him to the palace for an entire month, so he just barely held himself back.

Instead, he went to one of the food vendors and bought six honeycakes, then sat down on one of the benches to tear into them. He shoved them in his mouth ferociously, as if he could use them to stopper all the emotions inside him and bottle them inside until they calmed down and disappeared.

When he was in the middle of his fourth honeycake, Mark appeared beside him and dropped down onto the bench. “Where were you?” he asked, taking the fifth honeycake and biting into it. “I waited for you, but you didn’t meet up with me.”

“You were busy,” Jinyoung said sourly, unable to help his voice from taking on an incredibly petty note. “You didn’t tell me you were courting someone.”

“Am I courting someone?” Mark asked, lifting an eyebrow. “This is news to me.”

“That girl at the stable,” Jinyoung snapped. “I saw you with her. Don’t lie to me.”

“Oh, Lissa? I’m not courting her. Not yet, anyways. I think our families want us to, though. She’s a milkmaid. Her family’s got a huge cattle farm, so if I married her, our farm would get bigger.”

“Well, congratulations, then,” Jinyoung said sarcastically. “I hope you get married and have a lot of blushy, giggly babies together!”

Mark looked at Jinyoung in surprise for a moment at his tone before his lips spread into a wide grin. “What’s this, Jinyoung?” he asked. “Are you jealous?”

“NO!” Jinyoung yelled in the way he did when he was being accused of something he was completely guilty of. The accusation stung with the truth, but he didn’t see why he should feel jealous. Of course he wanted to be Mark’s friend and didn’t particularly want to share him with anyone else. But Lissa wasn’t trying to be Mark’s friend. She wanted to be courted by him. And there was no reason Jinyoung should feel jealous of Mark courting someone other than him, because wanting to be courted by Mark would be weird…right? The image of being courted by Mark and all that entailed—kissing, dallying, all the things Jinyoung wasn’t even supposed to know about yet—popped into his head, and just thinking of it turned his face bright red.

“You are jealous!” Mark said smugly. “How adorable, Jinyoung.”

“Am not,” Jinyoung mumbled before shoving the remaining honeycake in his mouth. He was tempted just to leave it there inside his mouth without chewing so he’d be prevented from talking to Mark further, but he knew he’d look like an idiot if he did that. Even more of an idiot than he already did.

“Hey, Jinyoung.” Mark leaned closer and closer until his lips were pressed up against Jinyoung’s ear, his breath tickling his skin. Shivers shuddered down Jinyoung’s spine, and his face got even redder. “Let’s talk about this again in a few years, when you’re older. I’ll wait for you until then.”

Still, Mark never brought it up again after that. But Jinyoung was thinking about it. He thought of it obsessively. The vision of Mark courting him replayed in his mind over and over again, and as the years passed, it began to expand and become more detailed. Jinyoung felt constantly flustered and dizzy-headed, to the extent he could barely look Mark in the eyes sometimes, and when he did, he wound up becoming even more dazed, his skin turning so red that Mark frequently asked if he was developing sunburns. He started to imagine things that he’d never truly thought of before. How Mark’s lips would feel against his. What he looked like underneath his shirt—and under the trousers, too. How it would feel to be touched by him, not just in the innocent places they touched regularly. How it would feel to have that husky whisper pressed up against his ear again, speaking to him of different things.

The force of emotions caught him off balance. He didn’t know how to handle them fully, and became prone to wild mood swings, going from deliriously happy when Mark looked or smiled at him, then descending into furious tempers over the smallest things—the mere thought of Lissa and all her precious cattle beating him to Mark, his parents’ continuing insistence of keeping him fettered in the castle even as he grew older and closer to adulthood, the impending threat of royal responsibilities looming over his head. He hated how uncertain everything felt, and hated most of all the thought of Mark being one of those uncertainties when it came to the future.

And yet even in spite of the turmoil in his heart, Jinyoung felt himself growing even closer to Mark, their relationship becoming deeper and deeper during their nights together. As they matured, they talked to each other more and more, and were learning the thoughts they hadn’t had before when they were children, the more adults fears, the pressing insecurities, their visions of what they wanted for themselves. Jinyoung felt like he could talk to Mark about anything at all or absolutely nothing, and Mark would still understand him and accept him without question. The relationship they had was the most important in Jinyoung’s life, and he knew he was equally important to Mark, too. Even when there were awkward moments when Jinyoung’s heart felt like it would burst out of his chest with want, Mark was still the only person in the world who was capable of giving him peace and happiness without constraints.

Jinyoung knew he was reaching a crossroads in his life. He could feel the tension of it crackling in the air around him, and feel it stirring in the depths of his soul. Even his parents were becoming edgier and edgier around him, as if they were expecting him to explode at any moment, or for calamity to strike. He didn’t know what was coming. He even sensed that it was probably nothing optimistic, and that the shadowy threat that had been stalking him his entire life was probably coming to claim him for good.

He wasn’t sure if it had anything at all to do with Mark, but knew instinctively that his relationship with him was exactly where the road would split. He could allow him to take the path of Lissa where he ended up with his huge farm full of cattle and household full of blushy and giggly little ones who would look just like their mother. Or he could take the other path, the path that led to their future together. He wasn’t sure yet exactly what that future would look like, or if it was even possible given their differences and the chasm between the worlds they came from which could very well be impassable. He did know that it was a possibility all the same, and even more than that, the only possibility he saw for himself where he could be happy. He wanted to take that path. He wanted to be with Mark and find happiness together with him, at his side the way he had been ever since that day where they had burst into each other’s lives.

And with that decided, all that was left was to tell him. He knew he had to, though he was terrified to his core to do it. He chose the day of the spring festival, the year when he was sixteen-going-on-seventeen. They’d met at the stables as always, chatting as companionably as they could considering that Jinyoung felt like he was going to vomit with nerves at any moment.

“Are you all right, Jinyoung?” Mark asked at length, smoothing Jinyoung’s hair away from his sweaty forehead. “You don’t look well.”

“Are you saying I look ugly?” Jinyoung attempted to joke, though his heart wasn’t in it.

“I would never dare suggest such a thing to one who has been blessed by the faerie queen Mirra,” Mark said gravely, sweeping his hand through the rest of Jinyoung’s hair. “If something is wrong, I wish you would tell me. I’d help you with it, you know.”

Jinyoung took a deep breath. “Actually, yes. There’s…there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about. Something I’ve had on my mind for a while now.”

Recognition flashed in Mark’s eyes for a moment, as if he knew exactly what this was about and had been expecting it to come up for a while now. Jinyoung’s heart thudded with anxiety. Did Mark know? And if he knew, was the fact that he hadn’t brought it up himself good or bad?

“All right, then,” Mark said calmly. “Let’s hear it.”

“Not here,” Jinyoung said, shaking his head. “Somewhere more…”

“Private?”

He glanced around. There were no stablehands in sight. They were technically alone. “Somewhere more atmospheric,” he said instead. He didn’t want the memory of his confession to be set at a horse stable.

“All right, let’s find a-” Mark started to say before he was interrupted by a high and melodious voice like a chirping bird calling out. “Mark? Mark?”

Jinyoung’s entire body tensed. It was probably Lissa. Mark was eighteen-going-on-nineteen and at the age where marriage would be firmly situated on the horizon. If Lissa was going to pin him down for a betrothal, now would be the time.

Mark opened his mouth as if to respond to her, but Jinyoung clapped a hand over his mouth quickly, shaking his head. “No,” he whispered softly. “Don’t.”

Lissa called again. “Mark? Are you there?”

Jinyoung snatched Mark’s hand quickly and yanked him into the stable and out of sight as she turned the corner. He glanced around for an open stall, and upon finding one used for storing hay, he pushed Mark inside and hid them behind a stack of hay bales.

Lissa poked her head into the stable. “Mark?” she tried again. “Was that you I heard just now?”

Jinyoung fixed his eyes on Mark and pressed a finger to his lips, practically pleading him with his gaze. “Please,” he said in a soft voice. “Don’t go to her.”

Mark stared back at him with a fierce look that surprisingly seemed to encompass only him without a single thought of Lissa to be seen. He lifted his hand to wrap around the wrist of the hand Jinyoung had pressed against him, drawing it closer and making the touch of Jinyoung’s finger to his lips a bit firmer. Then, he pressed his lips into a soft kiss against the pad of Jinyoung’s finger, holding his gaze all the while.

Jinyoung’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth falling open to ask what Mark meant with his action before remembering that Lissa was nearby and she would overhear him. He snapped his mouth shut, staring up at Mark with questioning eyes. Mark lowered Jinyoung’s hand by the wrist, and brought it to a stop over his heart. Jinyoung could feel it pounding against his palm. Without words, the question had been asked and the answer already given.

“Mark? Mark? Are you there?”

Jinyoung lifted his hands to Mark’s shoulders and leaned in to kiss him. He didn’t care that they were in a stable that smelled terrible and was covered with hay that was scratching against their skin. He didn't care that Lissa was still chirping away in the background. He only cared that it felt like the exact right thing to do, the exact thing he wanted to do in that moment.

He’d always envisioned a gentle first kiss for himself, especially in this situation since it was unplanned and he had no idea what he was doing, but right away he gripped Mark harder than he’d meant to, and kissed him a lot firmer and longer than he’d thought he would. And Mark was kissing him back quite eagerly, hands dropping to his waist and pulling him closer, tongue swiping against Jinyoung’s lips and urging him to open up. Jinyoung parted his lips with a little sigh of delight, but instead of taking the invitation immediately as Jinyoung thought he would, Mark instead used the moment to spin Jinyoung around so his back was pressed up against the hay bales, wrapping his arms around him tighter so their bodies were squeezed against each other, and they could feel the heat of each other’s skin.

Mark pulled away for a moment with a shuddering breath, studying Jinyoung’s expression carefully. Jinyoung wasn’t sure what kind of face he was making, but whatever it was seemed to meet Mark’s approval since he released a low noise of want and leaned in to kiss him again, pushing him a little roughly back up against the hay bales.

“Mark?” Lissa’s voice came one more time. Jinyoung’s hands grabbed for Mark’s shirt, into the fabric, and Mark’s hands went up the back of Jinyoung’s shirt, fingers tickling against his spine.

They pulled away again after a moment as Lissa’s voice got further and further away. There was a trail of saliva between their lips, the sight of which both embarrassed Jinyoung and made his body ache in a borderline unbearable way.

“Jinyoung,” Mark said in a low, sensuous voice as he pressed his lips against Jinyoung’s neck. “I was never planning on courting anyone else but you.”

“O-Oh?” Jinyoung squeaked in a voice that sounded nothing like him.

“Yes.” He kissed him again, fingers dragging down his back. “I want you.”

“I…I want you too,” Jinyoung got out before Mark kissed him one more time.

“Good,” Mark murmured when he pulled away. “And just so you know, I’m serious about this. But you get to decide how this is going to be. Whether it’s going to be a shepherd trying to win the right to be with a prince. Or a prince who gives up everything to be with a shepherd. I’d be fine with either, but you’re the one who’s not happy with your lot in life. We’ll do this on your terms.”

“Thank you,” Jinyoung said from the bottom of his heart. He loved Mark for giving him the choice. He loved him, and wanted to sing it at the top of his lungs. “Mark, I—”

He was interrupted by another kiss. He was pretty sure it wasn’t that Mark didn’t want to hear it. Just that he wanted to kiss him even more, in that moment.

When they pulled away, Mark cleared his throat and took a step back from him. “We should probably go back to the festivities,” he said. “Or else this is going to end up with you and me having a tumble in the hay.”

“I-I wouldn’t mind,” Jinyoung said, turning red and clinging to his shirt.

“Yes, you would. Hay is incredibly uncomfortable. And I would mind. I’m an adult, compared to you. You need a little more time to get more even with me.”

“I’m almost seventeen,” Jinyoung said stubbornly. “My birthday’s in just a few months.”

“You don’t have to be in a rush to grow up, Jinyoung,” Mark said, running his thumb down Jinyoung’s cheek. “I’ll still be here. I love you and want to spend forever with you. We can wait another year. I’ll wait for you until then.”

Most years Jinyoung had some manner of formal dinner for his birthday, but the year of his seventeenth was eerily subdue. His parents shuttered all the windows and barred all the doors, and no guests were admitted, not even their standard array of courtiers. Guards were posted everywhere, though most were concentrated near the palace entrance and the door of Jinyoung’s bedroom. It would make things particularly difficult when he tried to sneak out with Mark that night to receive his promised birthday gift in their secret place, but he’d figure something out later.

They ate a quiet supper in the dining hall, his parents going through a concentrated effort of being bright and cheery while looking quite terrified and jumpy, even more so than usual. They showered him with gifts and prattled on about how he could use them in the future in the kind of voices which suggested they didn’t actually believe the upcoming year was going to come. Jinyoung wondered what was wrong with them. Had some soothsayer predicted the end of the world? Was there some kind of assassination threat no one was doing him the courtesy of telling him about? Or was this the year the calamity they’d seemingly been waiting their entire lives for was set to strike?

But to his surprise, they seemed to calm down as evening fell and it got closer to bedtime, as if whatever danger they had been afraid of had safely passed. His father even grew energetic enough to regale them with a story about his recent meeting with the prime minister of some distant island that had just been settled, which gave Jinyoung the distraction he needed to feign needing to use the privy with no one bothering to stop him. As soon as he was in the hallway, he began hunting around for an escape route. His bedroom was out of the question, but perhaps there was another way he could find.

As he walked down the hallway, he felt a breeze coming from one of the rooms and popped his head in. The window in the room was open to air out what looked like a damp petticoat. He glanced around the room. It looked like the sleeping quarters of one of the maidservants, but there was no maid in sight at the moment. He crossed the room and peered out the window. It was just a small drop, and there were no guards in sight.

He was just about to hoist himself up onto the sill when something glinted in the corner of his eye and diverted his attention. There was an open parcel on the maid’s bed with a letter opened on top. Jinyoung was no snoop, but something compelled him to pick it up and read it. It was addressed “To my dearest daughter” and seemed to be from the maidservant’s mother. She wrote to ask about how her daughter was enjoying her work in the palace, then moved swiftly into excited talk of local gossip and marriage prospects.

The missive ended with a stern warning: My one area of concern is your lack of ability as a seamstress, it read. I know you say the queen and king have a ban on all sewing and spinning materials, but this simply will not do if you hope to present yourself as an accomplished lady to a marriageable partner of standing. I’ve taken the liberty of including a spindle, distaff, and sheet of needles for your use to rectify this problem. Please practice diligently and show me your improved efforts next time you return home!

Jinyoung blinked in confusion. He had no idea his parents had banned sewing materials from the kingdom, and could think of no reason why they would. But sure enough, when he looked into the parcel, he didn’t recognize any of the items there, and the names were foreign to him…spindle…distaff. Just by looking at them, he couldn’t even guess how they would be used while sewing or spinning.

He picked one of the items up, studying it closely. It looked vaguely like a children’s toy, except for the sharp point it came to at the end. He wondered what the point was for, and what purpose it would serve a seamstress. He tested it with his finger. It was much sharper than it looked, and broke the surface of his skin, drawing up a small pearl of blood on the pad of his thumb.

As he stared down at the bright spot of blood, the world around him began to spin and go black. I can’t be sick now, was the last thing he thought as he started to pitch forward. Mark is waiting for me.

He fell forward onto the ground, the spindle falling from his hands, and from then on thought no more.