It was nearly nightfall when he appeared, cloaked in shadow. His face was carved with hollowed cheeks, his under eyes bruised. He was clutching at his side, as if it pained him, fingers curled into fists. Yifan thought he could almost see the dark stain of blood against the blue of his tunic.

He watched with bated breath, his heart thumping in his ears as the man glanced around, raising a hand, sketching a rune midair. The air seemed to shudder before stilling. Dark eyes flitted to him and the prince stepped out from his hiding place.

Yifan went as close as he dared, until his toes were just barely brushing against the lines made by the growing shadows. The man was leaning against the elder tree, his breathing slightly too heavy, his face still gripping at his right side.

“You should not have come here,” his voice murmured weakly, as silvery as the stream that ran through the forest. “Why have you summoned me?”

“You’re hurt,” Yifan said, ignoring the question. He could see the man more clearly now and the slowly darkening fabric at his side was concerning. “What happened?”

The man waved him away with his free hand, sagging against the tree. His face paled and he made a tiny noise of pain at the movement, his fingers clenching. With visible effort, he righted himself and Yifan caught his sharp inhale.

“Nothing. It is nothing,” he whispered breathily, his right hand digging harshly into the bark of the tree. “Why are you here? Where is your silver-haired mate? Does he not follow you tonight?”

Startled, Yifan faltered. He dropped his eyes to the ground briefly.

“Prince Joonmyun? He is promised to the fire king in the north. None of your concern, of course.”

The man tilted his head, an amused smile playing at his lips and Yifan took another step forward, so that the very tips of his toes were past the tree line. He watched as the smile vanished from his face, worry painting his features.

“You should not come so close,” he warned, glancing behind his shoulder as if afraid that something or someone was watching them. “She watches you even now.”

“I have my charms,” Yifan answered, his hand slipping by instinct into his right pocket. He gripped the little sachet tucked away inside it tightly before taking another tiny step. “Your charms.”

He got a flash of teeth for his efforts and the man shifted, rewarding him with a single bold step in his direction.

“Why are you here, Prince Yifan? Why do you risk your life to summon me?” The question was whispered, when they were close enough to touch, the man’s face still shrouded in shadow.

“You said you’d always come at my call,” Yifan pointed out, his other hand moving to clutch at the stone that sat against his chest. He could feel the crudely carved runes on its surface as he traced it. “I wanted to see you.”

The man shuddered, his teeth catching his lower lip as his eyes flitted to watch the prince run his thumb over the stone.

“Why?”

“Why does anyone want to see anyone?” Yifan countered, smiling as he took another step. He pulled his hand from his pocket, lifting it into the air, palm out. The man watched him, still chewing at his lip. He leaned forward, his own hand moving until they were finally touching, fingers intertwining together.

Yifan ducked his head, inhaling as a hand brushed against his waist, his chest pressing against the other man’s. They were so close now that he could smell his cologne, dark and earthy like the forest around them but with a touch of something sweet.

Soft lips grazed his and he closed his eyes, one hand still clutching the stone at his chest.

“You play with fire, Your Highness,” the man whispered against his lips when they pulled apart and Yifan could not suppress the smile that lit up his face. “What is your wish then?”

“Your name,” he replied as their fingers uncurled. The man started to reply but a crow called from a nearby tree and the smile froze on his face. With a thinly veiled cry, he grasped at his injured side, doubling over in pain.

Yifan started, reaching for him in concern.

“She calls for me,” he gasped, and when a shaft of moonlight broke through the trees, Yifan could see blood flecking the corners of his lips. He had barely reached out to catch him before his knees were buckling and he was folding to the ground, swearing ancient curses under his breath.

Fingers curled around his bicep and a name was hurriedly whispered into his ear before he raised his voice. Yifan mouthed the name under his breath, savouring it as he gripped his arm.

“You must go,” it was full of fear and urgency as dark eyes flicked up to meet his and he was shoved away, stumbling out of the treeline and into the moonlight. Before he could respond, a murder of crows shot out from the trees, squawking and squalling as they surrounded the fallen man, talons outstretched as if to tear the skin from his body.

His heart was in his mouth as he watched the man lift both arms, the crows settling about him like a shadowy cloak. He flashed a sorrowful smile in his direction before the last of the crows swarmed before him and he vanished, melting into nothing.

-

“You wanted to see me, Mother?” Yixing winced, unclasping his cloak from his throat. The feathers rustled as his attendants circled him, taking the heavy cloak. He glanced down at the dark rust coloured stain on his tunic and grimaced; his stitches were torn.

He the hem of his tunic as his mother spun around, crimson lips set into a disapproving frown. A chill shivered through him as she stepped over to him, casting a shadow over him. He dipped his head, folding his fingers demurely while inside, his heart was hammering in his chest.

“So the little prince has taken your fancy,” she purred into his ear and it was all he could do to keep from flinching. He kept his eyes fixed upon the ground as his mother prowled around him, piercing eyes raking up and down his form. “You cheated me of a life.”

“And you’ve already taken my liver as punishment,” he replied with the straightest face he could muster. The pain in his side intensified as the memory of the punishment resurfaced in his mind, throbbing furiously as his body and magic worked to heal him.

“Seems like I should take something else,” his mother said sardonically, studying his stoic face. “You’re still seeing him. Protecting him with your… charms.”

She spat the last word like a curse and Yixing twisted his fingers together tightly. His palms were sweating profusely as his mother circled him like a prowling wolf.

“You can’t touch him. There is no way, Mother. Let it go,” he tried. His charms were powerful enough to resist his mother’s dark magic and cloak his prince from her sight if he ever had any cause to walk into the woods. For his sake, he hoped that he would never have to again.

“Let it go? He and his blasted mate walked through my woods and you! You imbecile let him walk out unscathed!” The screech blasted his eardrums and it was all he could do to keep his composure. He murmured a prayer under his breath as his mother began her raging once more, hoping that she would tire quickly.

Indeed she did, wandering off to scream for a servant to bring her nightly tea. After she had flopped into her chair, Yixing took his leave, brushing past the unfortunate servant with the ghastly nightshade tea his mother adored.

A quick glance at the servant told him all he wanted to know and he left, as quickly as he could, to his chambers. After checking thrice that the door was bolted behind him, he knelt, feeling about beneath his bed for the hole he had carved into his mattress.

Several onyx coloured berries rolled into his palm and he surveyed them with a critical eye. There were too little for the rest of the week. He would have to ask his prince to bring him a new stash the next time they saw each other.

The berries were taking their toll, his mother’s strength waned quicker each night. All it took was the juice of two berries squeezed into her nightly tea, the belladonna mixing into the nightshade tea a deadly concoction.

Not deadly enough to kill her at once, but with enough ingested over several weeks, she would die a slow, painful death.

Yixing tucked the berries back into the mattress, pulling the false bottom into place. He swore loudly as he rose, his side twinging in protest. Sinking onto his bed, he yanked his tunic over his head, gasping at the tug on his skin.

The stitches had torn loose, just like the healer had told him it would and he could see the gaping hole where his mother had put her fist through and tore out his liver. If it were not for his magic, he would be dead, dead, dead.

His skin slowly rejecting the stitches, closing up on its own and his liver was regenerating. Just the sight of the gaping wound made bile rise up in the back of his throat and Yixing had to turn his head away.

Soon, he promised himself silently, pushing the duvet aside roughly. Blood still trickled from the healing wound, staining the velvet sheets as he shifted gingerly onto his left side.

Soon he would have his revenge and his lover and nothing in the world would separate them again.

-

Yifan could not stop his mind from drifting back to the man of the woods even as Joonmyun stabbed at him with his silver foil. He sidestepped quickly, knocking his blade aside.

Yixing.

It had taken only days for him to be completely infatuated with the man who had saved both his, and his best friend’s life from the monstrous beasts that resided within those trees.

“You’re thinking of him again,” Joonmyun muttered as he jabbed at him, the prince barely ducking out of the way in time. Yifan rolled his eyes when his friend flashed him a wicked smile, sticking his tongue out childishly as he parried away another blow.

“Shush,” he glowered, ing his foil forward. The tip touched the centre of Joonmyun’s chest and the swords master whistled. “I win.”

“He’s dangerous, you know,” Yifan poked the foil into its stand as Joonmyun moved to pick up his waterskin. “A child of a poisoner and the Queen of the Woods. There is poison in his blood.”

“I know. But he did save us. He’s not as wicked as the Queen.”

“Be careful, Yifan,” Joonmyun murmured as Yifan tilted his head back to swallow his water. “The fae are not always the most trustworthy.”

-

The very first thing that Yixing asked from him several nights later when he visited him again, were the berries. Yifan had been bringing them to him without any questions in thanks of him saving their lives but perhaps Joonmyun’s paranoia was affecting him as well, as he questioned Yixing’s use of the poisonous berries idly.

“I can’t see any reason for you to require so many berries. Do you perhaps snack on them?” He teased and his eyes widened when Yixing popped a berry into his mouth, flashing him a wicked little grin as black juice smeared across his teeth and lips.

“Yes, I do in fact, enjoy them as a snack,” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand carelessly, ing the bag of poison into his cloak. He looked far better than he had the night before, his tunic no longer stained with blood, his dark eyes glittering with delight.

Yifan stared, before sighing, folding his arms across his chest.

“I can’t kiss you now that you’ve done that,” he pointed out, smiling to himself when the half-fae rolled his eyes. He stepped closer, feeling bolder than he had before, bolstered by the silver rays of moonlight falling through the trees. It was a full moon night.

“You flatter yourself, prince,” Yixing smiled, tilting his head as Yifan curled fingers around the stone on his chest once more. His lips parted with a groan when the prince traced a finger along a groove in the stone, pressing almost harshly. Yifan watched as he gripped the tree a little tighter, desire reflecting off the moonlight in his eyes.

“I’m sure I do,” he replied, dropping his hand from the stone. Yixing’s dark eyes gleamed and he took a bold step out with one hand outstretched before Yifan could stop him.

With a startled cry, he darted back into the shadow of the trees, snatching his hand back. By the light of the moon, Yifan could see smoke rising from the back of his hand, a blackened mark streaked across his skin.

“I forgot the moonlight,” he gritted out with clenched teeth as he clutched his hand close to him, grimacing at the burn. Yifan shook his head, reaching to take the injured hand. He ran fingers over pale knuckles and pressed his lips lightly against the burn. “She will know where I’ve been now.”

“You’re lucky,” Yifan replied, rubbing circles over Yixing’s skin with his thumb. “You are only half of her. If she had done that, she would have lost her hand.”

Yixing made a face but his eyes darkened at the mention of his mother. There was an almost feral growl in his throat when he spoke again, so softly that Yifan had to strain to hear him.

“It would serve her right, that .”

His hand moved to where the pouch of berries was concealed in his cloak and a look crossed his face that Yifan could not decipher.

“I’m afraid I must be off,” he murmured, raising his unscarred hand. Yifan moved in close enough for him to brush his knuckles tenderly against his cheek, even as disappointment burned in his stomach.

“Will I see you again tomorrow?” He asked, pressing a kiss against his forehead. Yixing sighed, the corner of his lips with his thumb.

“Perhaps, if my mother is lax. She has become more careless of late,” Yifan nodded, pressing another kiss to the half fae’s hair before pulling away.

As before, he watched his lover dissolve into nothing before retreating back to his palace.

He had only just tumbled back into his room from the open window when a figure standing at the foot of his bed startled him.

“Joonmyun, what on earth?” He yelped, nearly knocking into an antique side table in his shock.

“I came here earlier and you were already gone,” the prince glared, folding his arms across his chest. “Where have you been? You’re lucky I did not alert the guards.”

His friend’s eyes burned into him as he pulled off his cloak, dropping it onto the ground before sliding between the sheets.

“Nowhere,” he replied and Joonmyun snorted.

“You’ve been to see him again, haven’t you?” He sat down at the foot of the mattress and Yifan raised an eyebrow.

“Oof, I don’t think your future husband would appreciate you in the bed of another man,” he teased, trying to change the subject and his friend rolled his eyes.

“I haven’t even met him, Yifan. I’m sure he’ll survive this once.”

“Touché,” he shrugged, tugging the duvet higher up to his chin. “Now go away, Myun’, I need my beauty sleep.”

-

“Do you truly eat so many berries on your own?” Yifan questioned again. Yixing had been acting strange for the past nights they had met, his eyes restless. He fidgeted with the edge of his cloak, which Yifan noticed, had a dark stain on it that looked like blood.

He popped two more berries into his mouth before tucking the rest away into his cloak, wincing as he did so.

Yifan picked it up almost immediately, moving to embrace him.

“What has she done now?” He asked when Yixing shuddered in his grip, pressing a kiss upon the other man’s hair.

“Nothing,” he exhaled, and Yifan drew back, levelling him with a disbelieving look. He slid his hand beneath the other’s thin tunic, pausing to watch his reaction. When no objection was forthcoming, he ran his fingers along the skin, until he came to a long wet slash across his back, deep enough that he could feel the ridges of his spine.

Bile rose up in his throat as his hand came away wet with blood.

Yixing was watching his face closely as he wiped it carelessly on his tunic, trying to suppress the urge to throw up.

“This is nothing, compared to other times.”

The statement horrified him. He had felt his bone through the wound and could hardly bear imagine anything more.

“Tell me,” he said still, feeling the anger beginning to bubble in his stomach.

Yixing dropped his head to rest against his shoulder and though they made his stomach turn and his dinner wanted to come back up, he listened as he listed every single horrible thing that his mother had done to him, just simply because she could.

“I’m poisoning her,” he ended, darkness creeping into his dulcet tone. “This will all be over soon. It will all be over and we no longer have to conceal our love.”

Yifan froze.

“Surely you jest,” he stuttered, fingers tensing against Yixing’s back. His lover shook his head, his eyes glittering.

“I do not, dearest,” he smoothed an unruly lock of hair away from Yifan’s forehead and the gesture was so tender, so different from his declaration that Yifan could almost relent.

Almost.

“You can’t,” he breathed, staring up at those deep dark eyes. They were soft and gentle as they gazed at him but Yifan could see now, the poison that ran in his bloodstream.

“Yes, I can. She has hurt me, threatened you,” he could feel Yixing begin to pull away, his muscles coiled and bunched beneath his skin as if he was ready to flee. “I cannot suffer this any longer.”

“This was why you needed the berries from my garden,” Yifan ignored him as realization began to dawn on him. “To murder your own mother.”

Yixing was pulling further and further away, his face becoming closed off.

“She frightens the servants, hurts me and threatens the man I love,” he said coldly, “why should I have to live in fear? Why should anyone live in fear when I can rid the world of the one thing they fear?”

“Do I repulse you now?”

His fingers were clenched in fists as Yifan let him go, the chasm that had opened between them seeming to span a world.

“I- I need more time,” Yifan stuttered, and Yixing’s eyes flashed, the stone cold mask slipping a fraction. He blinked and the vulnerable expression was gone, replaced by a look of cold understanding.

“Of course,” he bowed his head and his crows surrounded him silently, perching on his shoulders and head.

For the first time since their meeting, Yifan did not stay to watch him leave.

-
“Milord,” Yixing turned his head, regarding the servant with blank, unseeing eyes. He had not left his chambers for an entire day, curled up on his windowsill with a book but he had barely read a word.

His mother had not summoned him down to breakfast, citing a terrible stomachache and the food the servants brought was left untouched on the bedside table.

The servant was practically cowering as he shut the door behind him, his thin skeletal hands trembling as he folded them before him.

“What is it?”

The situation had to be dire indeed if they had dared to disturb him on his rare quiet days.

“Bodies, Milord. The gardener found bodies of humans buried in the garden,” the servant looked as if he might throw up. “With their faces ripped off.”

Bile rose up in Yixing’s throat and he clenched his eyes shut, swallowing back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

He spoke without opening his eyes, his book slipping out of his grasp.

“My mother’s doing?”

“It would seem so, sir. There are no creatures in the forest that would dare to attack humans without the queen’s command.”

Yixing exhaled and murmured a chant under his breath. He rose from his seat, bending to pick up the fallen book.

“I will see to them.”

The servant quivered as he strode past him, his voice trembling.

“Another thing, sir,” Yixing paused, waiting for him to gather his nerve.

“They were noblemen from the Wu’s household.”

-
His mind was spinning so much that he could not focus on the words before him. He cast the book away after a few more pages, turning over to lay his head into Joonmyun’s lap.

His friend raised his head from his own book, cocking an eyebrow.

“What’s the matter with you? I thought you were enjoying that story.”

Yifan grunted, sitting up abruptly. He could not forget Yixing’s chilling words from the night before. Nightmares had plagued him all night, ranging from his lover putting a knife through his chest and Yixing himself being killed by a faceless woman.

He was about to reply when the door was slowly pushed open, a footman poking his head in. His face was as white as a sheet and he looked as if he might faint or vomit. Or both.

“What’s happened?” Yifan hopped off the bed, his brows creased in concern. He opened the door, offering his arm for the man to lean on as Joonmyun snapped his book shut, rising to his feet as well.

The door was shoved farther open and another voice spoke before the footman could reply.

“Two bodies were found at the edge of the silver Woods, noblemen. Their faces were torn clean off.”

Yifan froze and beside him, Joonmyun gagged, eyes widening with horror.

“It is the Queen’s doing. It must be,” he stuttered faintly and the frown on his father’s face deepened.

“I’m afraid so,” he answered. “Can you get in contact with the fae who saved your life? Surely he would have some notion as to why the Queen attacked.”

Yifan swallowed, his hand moving unconsciously to brush against the carved runestone hanging from his neck.

“I’m not sure he will answer,” he said truthfully.

“Try,” his father replied, looking far more worn and tired than he remembered. “We ought to get to the bottom of this before more lives are lost. The Queen never takes only once.”

-

Yixing could hear them, the foolish humans who thought it would be wise to go traipsing through the Silver Woods so soon after their men had been attacked.

There were three of them, one with golden hair that reminded him of Yifan.

They had not contacted each other since the night Yixing had spilt his murderous plans to him, though he had felt a tingle on his end of the summoning charm the day the humans discovered the bodies he had returned to them.

He leaned over the edge of the tree, peering down at the humans. They were talking seriously, their features tense with concentration.

From the little bits that floated up to Yixing, he could piece together the fact that the two dead men had been part of their little brotherhood and they would avenge them or die trying.

They certainly would die trying.

Tilting his head, Yixing listened as he raised his hand into the air. It would not be long before his mother’s hounds scented the men. Their blood reeked of youth and beauty.

He sketched runes into the air, murmuring incantations under his breath as he kept one ear open.

As the young men began to move, a murder of crows exploded into the air, surrounding them.

Yixing finished his spell with one last flourish and just in time as well, as a piercing howl split the air, the young men beneath him batting violently at the crows that beat them back into the circle of his spell.

“What is that?” He heard one of them yell as he swatted away a crow that had been lunging at him.

“My mother’s hounds,” Yixing said coolly as he swung off the tree, landing neatly before the three men.

The golden-haired man drew his sword, and the silver blade made him wince. He waved his hand again, dismissively, though his heart was pounding wildly.

“Put that away, you’ll diminish my shield.”

“Shield?”

“Yes, shield. So that you do not suffer the same fate as your brothers.”

They stared at him wide-eyed and Yixing rolled his eyes, waving his hand once more.

“The blade, boy. Unless you wish for your face to be torn off and your bodies fed to the wolves.”

The silver blade vanished back into the sheath and Yixing sketched another rune into the air, the crows around them pressing in so close that they were a blur of black turning completely translucent.

An added layer of protection.

“Why are you helping us?” One of the dark-haired men asked warily when he laid down his hand, sweat dripping from his brow.

Yixing shrugged, though his fingers curled into a fist.

“I have my reasons,” he muttered under his breath. The youths fell silent when the sound of multiple heavy footfalls crunched through fallen leaves, very very close by.

Yixing tensed, his steps as light as a feather as he put himself between the hounds and the young men.

They were all still as the massive skeletal bodies of the hounds came into view, their maws falling open in the most grotesque manner.

Yixing wrinkled his nose as they passed; they reeked of blood and death. He heard one of the boys whimper and saw his friend’s grip on his shoulder tighten.

The hounds sniffed the air and he held his breath when one stepped within the circle of his spell. Someone moved to unsheathe his blade and he froze him with a single glare.

That hound crunched over to Yixing, pressing its nose against where his thigh was and he exhaled when it went straight through him as if he was not even there.

After what seemed like an eternity, the hounds moved on, though the heavy curtain of their scent still lingered.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he gathered his wits about him.

“Go quickly. My shield will not last long.”

The golden-haired man held out his hand before his friends could run ahead, dark eyes flitting over him.

“We won’t leave until we’ve killed the monster who stole away our friends,” Yixing released a long-suffering sigh.

“You were not able to go two feet of just her forest without being detected, what makes you think you can even reach her?”

“We have to try and you could help us.” The man’s face was earnest and his friends nodded along with him.

Yixing shook his head.

“Go home and forget about revenge. You have families who need you. Do not waste your lives.”

-

It was later than usual when he rounded the bend, stepping in full view of the tree line.

His fingers curled lightly around the stone and he traced the pattern firmly, eyes fixed upon the shadowy patch beneath the trees.

A crow called from a nearby tree and he waited, repeating the pattern over and over again.

When his thumb was sore and he was ready to give up, the air shimmered once and Yixing came stumbling out, his face creased with pain.

Yifan gaped at him in horror.

Even with a hand clasped over his chest, he could see the great slash of red, white bone glinting through the sea of red. The white lips of the wound trembled as he heaved a heavy breath, eyes wide.

Rivulets of blood trickled between his fingers, staining his pale skin. He looked as if he would collapse dead anytime.

Anger and terror overwhelmed every other emotion within him and Yifan rushed forward, catching the prince just as his knees began to buckle.

Yixing could hardly speak as he lowered him into the ground, he was almost writhing with agony. His dark blue sweater was drenched in blood and sweat, sticking to his skin as Yifan tried to pull it off to see the damage.

He moaned in pain when Yifan managed to wrestle the fabric off, the little fibres in the sweater clinging to his wound.

“Tell me how to help you,” Yifan said urgently, moving to cradle the half fae’s severely weakened body close to him. He was straining to keep himself calm.

Yixing shook his head, catching his hand when he tried to touch the wound, to stem the bleeding. There were more wounds along his neck, small shallow cuts that bled fresh blood.

“I’ll… be fine. Just… water,” he gasped as Yifan fumbled in his cloak for his waterskin. There was a sheen of sweat on his body as he shuddered and trembled in his lover’s arms.

Yixing drank as if he would never drink again, in heaving gulps. Yifan drew out a pouch of belladonna and grasping his hand, tipped the berries into them.

“Eat,” he urged and the half-fae did, falling upon the poison like a ravenous wolf, black juice streaking across his face and teeth.

By the time he was finished, the blood had already stopped flowing and the jagged edges of the wound were clean.

Yifan took up the edge of his cloak, carefully mopping up the black smears around Yixing’s lips. He appeared to have fallen asleep, his lashes fluttering ever so often.

Yifan wiped the juice from his hands, smoothing his lover’s sweaty hair away from his face.

“You’re going to have to burn that cloak,” Yixing murmured sleepily when he bent to press a kiss against his forehead.

He laughed, shaking his head fondly as the half-fae cuddled closer, burying his face into his chest. The jagged wound was already closing slowly.

“I forgive you, you know,” Yixing mumbled into his shirt and Yifan shook his head again, his hair to lull him back to sleep.

“So do I,” he replied, “I understand now.”

His fingers danced lightly over the edges of the wound and the corners of Yixing’s mouth creased.

“That hurts,” he swatted his hand away and Yifan caught it, pressing a kiss onto the delicate knuckles.

“I will help you,” he promised, shifting so that Yixing was completely cradled in his arms, his cloak half draped over them both.

-

“Xing wait- oh!” Yixing smirked when Yifan threw back his head, nearly striking it against the trunk of the tree. They were cradled between two massive roots, Yifan’s clothes carelessly thrown aside and his on the way.

A hand pressed against his side and he arched into the touch, bending to mouth at an exposed .

“That hurts-,” Yifan was writhing beneath him, his hips ing shallowly as he shifted his bottom over his crotch.

Yixing kissed along his ribs, up his collarbones before settling on his lips, Yifan reaching cup his face as he deepened the kiss shamelessly.

“ I can’t wait any longer,” he breathed against Yifan’s lips. They were pressed up against each other, his cloak tangled around their legs, bare skin brushing as bare skin. Yifan was warm and he could feel his heart beating fiercely against his chest as he burrowed his head into the crook of his lover’s neck. “I must increase the dosage, speed up the process.”

The prince tensed against him, the hand that had been tracing circles on his lower back freezing. He knew what he was talking about.

“Are you sure?” He murmured, warm breath brushing the curve of his ear. Yixing shifted, so that he was straddling Yifan’s bare hips, looking down at him. Amber eyes stared back at him, full of concern and love.

Something stirred in his heart and he bent, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss.

“I’m sure.”

Yifan sighed, stretching up to chase him as he pulled away. His fingers tightened around his waist and he the flawless skin absently.

The unblemished skin was deceiving. No one would know, with one look at the half fae’s milk-white skin, the horrors that he had gone through at his mother’s hands. It was the perfect cover-up.

“I’ll bring more berries,” Yifan murmured and Yixing smiled, tracing his thumb along the corners of his prince’s lips.

-

“You really should not come,” Yifan tried even as Joonmyun clasped his cloak about his shoulders. The prince had been horrified to hear of the half fae’s murderous plot but insisted on following his friend to the forest, citing that he was worried about his safety. “If Yixing wanted me dead, he could have killed me a long time ago.”

“I’m not worried that he would kill you,” he growled as he slipped a silver blade into the sheath at his hip. “I’m more worried about the Queen.”

“I’d be more worried about yourself,” Yifan retorted, “he has charms to protect me, but not you.”

He glanced at the sky and groaned. The full moon was nearly in effect and Yixing would be waiting for him.

“Just stay away from the edge alright? He will not have the strength to shield us both if we are discovered.”

-

By the time they arrived at the clearing, the moon had already fully risen in the sky, its pale rays illuminating the half-fae prince’s dark hair.

HIs face was grim as he knelt in the grass just behind the tree line, a golden chalice balanced on the thin line where the moonlight passed the trees.

Yifan tensed when he saw the knife in his hand, his sleeve pulled up, baring his wrist. He broke into a run, sweat creaking across his forehead.

“Xing, wait-“ before he could finish, the blade had already sliced straight through the pale white skin and across blue-green veins. Crimson blood just slightly too dark to be human poured from the cut and into the chalice.

Yifan baulked, his face paling and at his side, Joonmyun looked faintly green.

“I could have done it,” he murmured as he took the knife from his lover, Yixing’s lips set into a determined line as he watched his blood drop into the golden chalice.

“You wouldn’t survive it,” the prince said and even as they watched, the blood slowed to a trickle and the skin knitted over into a thin scar. “You don’t have poison in your veins.”

He held out his hand and Yifan set the bag of belladonna into it, trepidation filling him as Yixing popped a berry into his mouth, his eyes glittering at the nourishment.

A single belladonna berry would kill a grown man but to Yixing, it was nothing but a sweet snack. He heard Joonmyun inhale sharply when the half-fae had no reaction to the deadly poison and his lover flashed him a wicked smile, crushing another between his fingertips.

Black juice trickled down his hand, coating his skin as it dripped into the chalice.

“Besides, she would know you at once,” he said, popping another berry into his mouth.

“Your mother takes blood with her nightly tea?” Joonmyun looked as if he was about to throw up as he watched Yixing squeeze more juice into the chalice, more than enough poison to kill ten men.

The belladonna that grew in Yifan’s gardens were particularly toxic as they were planted on the night of a full moon, in the patch where moonlight always struck. Moonlight and belladonna were the Queen’s greatest weaknesses. Where Yixing could eat the berries with no serious consequence because of his poisoner blood, his mother, the Queen, would not survive the number of berries he was currently dripping into the chalice.

“It keeps her young,” Yixing replied, turning his attention back to his task. He crushed more berries in his fist, with far more force than necessary and Yifan had to step back to keep the juice from splattering all over him. “Human blood is most potent, but poisoner helps her tolerance.”

He looked up at him, grinning slightly, but it was not a pretty grin. “For the nightshade tea that she drinks at night.”

Joonmyun looked completely bewildered as Yixing wiped his hand onto the grass, carefully balancing the full chalice in one hand.

“Why would she drink something that might kill her?”

“She thinks that it would give her poisoner qualities, something she so dearly desires. Beauty and immortality. Tis’ hard to find a pureblood poisoner these days.”

“Then why not just kill you? Clearly, you have more than enough poisoner in you,” Joonmyun gestured wildly at the berries that have rolled out onto the grass and Yifan winced. Yixing arched an eyebrow as he pulled up his sleeve, baring his elbow where they could clearly see a white scar running over a particularly green vein.

“Doesn’t your body heal quickly?” Yifan asked in confusion. He had never seen any wounds on Yixing’s body that lasted longer than a few days. Even scars became invisible over weeks. The half fae made a face, glaring at the scar with distaste.

“She draws blood from me so often that it never has a chance to heal completely.”

“What of the faces?”

Joonmyun was so close to emptying the contents of his stomach all over the grass when Yixing turned to him, his grin almost feral.

“For beauty. That’s why she chooses the pretty young ones. Like you,” he leered and Joonmyun staggered back, Yifan’s arm catching him around the waist.

Yifan gave his lover a disapproving look and released his friend when Yixing smiled back innocently at him.

“Don’t scare him, love,” he reprimanded and the fae prince shrugged.

“It isn’t my fault that he’s nothing like you,” he purred, setting down the berries and chalice to saunter over to Yifan. “So brave.”

Joonmyun caught his breath when he raised his belladonna covered hand to his friend’s cheek but at the very last moment, Yixing pulled away, smirking.

“Come when I call for you, my love. I’m grateful for your presence here tonight,” he tilted his head out of reach when Yifan leant in to kiss him, gesturing to the belladonna juice smeared over his hand.

-

He was very nearly too late.

The palace was in chaos by the time he arrived with his sword drawn.

A sword, even blessed by an enchantress could do very little damage to the Queen. But thankfully, he had no need to use it.

The servants flinched away from the gleaming silver as he ran through the Great Hall, parting before him.

The stone at his throat pulsed urgently as he ran from room to room, terror a tight ball lodged in his throat. He turned a corner and his breath caught at the sight of a body lying on its side in the middle of the corridor.

The door to the chamber stood ajar as he stepped closer, and he could see the figure of the Queen kneeling on the ground in her chamber, her lips stained dark with blood, white froth gathering at the corners.

“Princeling,” she hissed and the body on the ground stirred. Yifan’s heart nearly stopped when the man lifted his head, dark eyes flitting to meet his.

There was a split second when everything was silent before the sound of crows screaming split the air.

Yixing dragged himself to his feet as a murder of crows exploded into the air, so numerous that the very air vibrated with their wingbeats. They were completely surrounded, the crows shielding them with their beaks and claws.

“How is she not dead?” Yifan stared in awe. He had seen the amount of poison Yixing had put into her drink. It should have killed her immediately.

His lover wiped his mouth, his knees buckling as he pointed at the golden chalice that laid on the chamber floor, dark red blood spilling from it.

“Give me your sword,” he muttered, and Yifan unsheathed it without a word. Yixing flinched at the proximity of the blessed silver but grasped the hilt tightly.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a blast of lightning exploded outside the window, his mother rising to her feet slowly.

Runes etched themselves onto the silver blade, spilling white smoke into the air.

When he opened his eyes again, Yifan could see that the brown of his irises had been swallowed up by his pupils, as black as the midnight sky.

He stepped back and Yixing walked forward, his crows parting around him.

“Traitor,” the Queen hissed, dark magic crackling at her fingertips. She lunged towards her son and the crows surged forward, squawking and squalling as they sank razor-sharp talons into her flesh.

Her skin was cut and bruised from strong wings, dropping blood by the time she fought them back, crushing the little bodies with waves of air.

“Beg for mercy, Mother,” Yixing spat coldly as the rest of his crows retreated, moving to shield Yifan once more. “And I may give it.”

The Queen laughed in his face.

“That’s what your father said,” her lips curled in contempt, “before I cut out his throat.”

Yixing froze, his eyes widening.

“You told me Father took his own life,” the words were a whisper, his voice tight with emotion.

He could remember the morning so well that it was almost as if it had happened yesterday.

He had run up to his parents’ bedroom and gone in without knocking.

The sight of his father with a silver dagger in his hand, smoke curling from his fingertips and blood dripping from a gash in his throat, was forever branded into his mind. He could remember his mother’s weeping as the guards took the body away to be buried.

The Queen grinned, the sharp points of her fangs elongating.

“His blood burned me so badly when I drank,” she hissed, “but it felt so good.”

His mother had locked herself away in her room and refused to see him for days after his father’s death. She had not even come to see him buried.

With a roar of fury, Yixing lunged forward, swinging the silver sword. His fingers were blistering as the blessed silver burned through the leather wrapped around the hilt.

The flat of the blade struck the Queen across her chest, and as she shrieked in pain, the smell of scorched flesh filled the air.

“What-,” Yixing had not expected the blade to do much damage, merely slow her down.

“Blessed by an enchantress and buried in the gardens on the night of a full moon,” Yifan muttered in his ear, suddenly so close that he yelped and leapt sideways, narrowly avoiding the bolt of magic that had come flying at his chest.

“You clever man,” Yixing could have kissed him but the prince pried his fingers from the hilt, shoving him down onto the floor as another bolt came blasting their way.

“Stay down!” Yifan called as he rolled off him. He lunged for the Queen, his sword glinting in another flash of lightning and Yixing suppressed a gasp when she recoiled, flinging magic in his face.

The half fae curled his injured fingers into fists, swearing under his breath as he felt the pain of the silver burns sink in. He called out to his crows and they answered, squawking and surrounding the Queen and the prince with feathery black bodies.

His vision was swimming as he reached out with his magic, seeking the runes that he had carved into Yifan’s sword. The silver was clouding his mind, like poison in his lungs as he poured his magic into the sword, infusing his essence into it.

He became the sword, guiding Yifan’s hand as he dodged magic bolts, trying to find an opening.

Black and white flashed before his eyes as the Queen danced in and out of reach, her dark robes swirling about.

He saw the red of her smile, the cruel curve of her lips painted with blood as her fingers turned to claws, reaching forward when Yifan got just an inch too close.

Terror was an icy river that chilled him to the bone and before he quite knew what he was doing, he heard a blood-curdling scream and felt something wet and warm upon his face.

The floor rushed up to meet him as he raised a hand to his skin, coming away dry.

Crimson stained on a silver sword was the last thing he saw before the darkness claimed the last of his strength.

-

“Yixing, Yixing,” Yifan dropped his sword, stumbling and half crawling to Yixing’s side.

He cupped his cheek, uncaring of the blood that stained his hands.

His skin was worryingly cold and his breaths so shallow that he was afraid he would stop breathing at any moment.

“Yixing,” he shook him gently, thumbing over the corner of his lips. “Come on, love. Come back to me.”

“Silver…” Yixing exhaled, stirring briefly. His eyes were glassy when he opened them, unseeing.

He lifted a hand unsteadily before his strength failed him, dropping back down onto his chest.

“The sword, I didn’t move it. Were you in it?” Yifan exclaimed as he gathered the feeble man into his arms. Yixing was nearly deadweight as he cradled him close, the temperature of his skin dropping rapidly.

“Poison… To me-,” he cut off with a heaving cough and when he lifted his head, Yifan could see the stain of blood on his lips. He gestured faintly to his hand, where the skin was scorched black, with no sign of regeneration.

“No, no, no. You were fine before, even when the moonlight burned you,” he caught up the burnt hand, pressing a kiss to the blackened skin.

“Blessed silver. Too much,” Yixing hacked and the amount of blood trickling out the corner of his mouth frightened Yifan.

He was smiling faintly as he struggled to lift his hand. Yifan dipped his head lower and cold fingers curled feebly into his golden hair.

“We were never meant to be, you and me,” he murmured and the reality of their situation struck Yifan so hard that he almost got whiplash.

“No, no. You are not leaving me,” he almost growled, his fingers digging so hard into Yixing’s shoulders that if the half-fae was not already halfway gone, he would have called out in pain. “I killed for you.”

“Not you,” Yixing coughed, brushing his knuckles against Yifan’s cheek. They were freezing, so cold that he could almost see smoke rising off them. “Me. I was the sword.”

“No blood,” he winced, “no blood on your hands.”

“You planned this,” Yifan said, his voice barely above a whisper. Yixing was smiling, still devastatingly beautiful even in the throes of death. “You planned this.”

“It was more than perfect,” he replied, as his hand fell into his lap, “you were perfect. Now the forest is free.”

Indeed, the storm had passed them over and the sun was lighting up the forest that lay beyond. The trees were shedding their dark green, almost black foliage, replaced by brilliant emerald so bright that they were blinding.

Yixing smiled when he heard the birds. They were chirping and the forest was coming alive.

“Perhaps in another life…”

Panic seized Yifan as he grasped his lover’s shoulders. Yixing was already fading, his lashes fluttering.

“I love you,” he breathed desperately and the half-fae had just barely enough strength to smile and whisper those words back before the kingdom’s last poisoner died in his arms.