“You belong to me now, little swan.

From now till forever, beginning this dawn.

Marry my son and you’ll never know fear, but to reject him, inspires my ire.

A swan you’ll turn when you meet your beloved, the sight of them the start of a curse.

To break this evil, how you may wonder, the love from one who has never loved another.”

 

-

 

The man was tall, almost frighteningly so. He towered over him, eyebrows furrowed as if he could not decide what to make of him.

 

Baekhyun knew who he was at once, bile rising to his throat.

 

The man extended his hand, the feathers on his robes rustling and Baekhyun merely stared, apprehensive.

 

“Welcome to my father’s home. I am Yifan,” his voice was surprisingly gentle.

 

When Baekhyun made no reply, he took up the prince’s hand. The press of his lips against his knuckles made Baekhyun’s skin crawl and he yanked his hand away quickly, shoving them into his pockets.

 

The man did not flinch, bowing his head.

 

“Allow me to take you to your rooms,” he murmured instead, turning his back on Baekhyun.

 

The tower was dark, cloaked in the perpetual gloom of looming storm clouds. A lonesome sparrow was hopping on the windowsill, pecking at nonexistent seeds as Yifan swung the door open.

 

It was a pitiful room, nothing like the lavish apartments the prince was used to. The drapes were old and worn, the floor covered in a layer of dust.

 

Baekhyun shivered as a draft swept through the cracks in the walls, the old oil lamp sputtering to life.

 

He turned to Yifan, who was watching him quietly. Steeling his nerves, he walked over to the bed, kneeling upon it.

 

“I will leave you be,” Yifan said after a beat of silence.

 

With another rustle, he was gone, disappeared down into the gloom.

 

Baekhyun swept the covers from the bed, burying himself into the pillows and finally allowed himself to weep, great heaving sobs into the fabric yellowed with age.

 

-

 

When he was finally done wallowing in self-pity, the sky was already dark. There were no twinkling stars in the sky, no smiling moon to comfort him.

 

The air was heavy and silent, with only the occasional gust of wind.

 

A knock on the door startled him, but it was only Yifan, come to bring him to dinner.

 

“My father will not be joining us,” he said as if it were a small comfort. Baekhyun’s feet left footprints in the dust as he followed the man down the tower, the stairs lit only by the light of Yifan’s tiny oil lamp and flickering torches on the walls.

 

They emerged into a room filled to the brim with golden cages, and a menagerie of birds, all silent, only watching.

 

Baekhyun stared, as Yifan settled him into a chair at the table, laid with a simple meal and a rose in a jar.

 

“Are these all-,” he could not bring himself to finish the sentence, the thought too horrifying to stomach.

 

Yifan eyed the birds confined in golden cages, his expression sorrowful.

 

“They are my father’s collection.”

 

And I will soon join them, Baekhyun thought to himself as he poked at his meal. He was no longer hungry.

 

Yifan too, seemed to have trouble eating, his eyes flitting around the room, looking at everything but Baekhyun.

 

The table was lit with candlelight, and if it were not for the heavy silence cloaking the room and the many silent birds, it would have been a romantic setting.

 

The notion made his stomach turn and Baekhyun pushed away his food, unable to look Yifan in the eye.

 

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, as he picked up his glass, gulping down water.

 

“Will you marry me, Baekhyun?”

 

Yifan broke the silence tentatively, his tone unsure. The feathers on his cloak rustled as he reached across the table, covering Baekhyun’s hand with his large one.

 

His eyes were full of earnest hope and something else the prince could not pinpoint.

 

“No,” he said shortly, folding his arms across his chest. His heart was thumping wildly at the look of hurt that crossed Yifan’s face, followed closely by a hollowed expression as if he had failed.

 

There was a long silence.

 

“Come with me,” Yifan said, rising to his feet. His meal was only half eaten and Baekhyun’s was untouched.

 

Baekhyun had no other choice but to follow him, up another flight of stairs, past a series of locked doors and into a room where a costume had been laid out.

 

“My father wishes for you to wear these for the ball tomorrow night,” Yifan gestured to the pure white sleeveless tunic, the pearly white mask and Baekhyun’s heart stuttered.

 

“Why?” He managed, squeezing his fingers into a fist.

 

Pain exploded through his arms, a supernova of agony. His skin felt as if it was being cut open from the inside, his vision turning red.

 

Yifan moved to catch him and he screamed aloud, flinging up his arms to keep him away. His heart was racing, sweat was dripping down his face and there was something seeping into his shoes, the fabric of his pants.

 

His ears were ringing as he caught his breath, sweating and panting as he looked down to see the floor covered in blood.

 

Someone lifted the mask from the table and Baekhyun shuddered.

 

The sorcerer was here.

 

He remained as still as he could, clamping his teeth down on his lower lip to stop the ragged sobs of pain from leaking out, as the mask was slid over his head, fastened snugly.

 

“Little swan,” he shivered, chills running down his spine at the voice, a whimper slipping out from between his teeth and he could feel the sorcerer laugh, chest vibrating against his back.

 

He was too close.

 

“Tis’ is to be a part of you,” the words were purred, and a long cold finger ran along the side of his cheek that was not covered by the mask.

 

Baekhyun wanted to throw up.

 

A mirror appeared before him and then he could see.

 

Feathers tipped with red streamed down along the sides of his arms, like gruesome sleeves. He was dressed in the white tunic that he did not remember putting on and the mask, oh the mask.

 

It was painted to look like the head of a swan, without the orange beak.

 

With the feathered outfit and arms, Baekhyun looked very much like a tiny, trembling swan.

 

-

 

It was a remarkable ball, Jongdae had to admit.

 

The ballroom was lit with strings of fairy lights and romantic glass chandeliers, soft orchestral music floating in the air.

 

He ought to join the rest of the dancers out on the floor, they all looked so happy and contented.

 

But instead, he was hiding in the corner of the ballroom, the brand new crossbow his mother had given to him as a name day present.

 

Again, the present should have brought him such joy. And it had, for the first few moments he laid eyes upon it and held it in his arms.

 

Until his mother declared that he was of age to be married and that she expected him to have at least thoughts on the woman he would begin courting by the end of the night.

 

His spirits sufficiently dampened, Jongdae had spent the majority of the ball in hiding, partly out of spite, and partly because he had no desire to dance with any of the ladies his mother not so subtly pointed out to him.

 

They were all lovely people, he was sure. But their makeup was garishly bright, their dresses too glittery, their masks extravagant and overdone. It felt as if they knew that Jongdae would be expected to choose one from their flock and had decided to do their best to blind him with their brilliance.

 

Jongdae did not want to choose. He already knew, deep down inside, that he did not want any of them.

 

They were not even of the right gender.

 

Just as he was about to try and make a daring escape, a dancer leaping past him caught his eye, gleaming under the light of multiple chandeliers.

 

Jongdae immediately retracted the statement in his mind about garish ball gowns because this man was utterly breathtaking.

 

At least he thought it was a prince, albeit a rather petite young man.

 

As if he had felt the weight of his gaze, the man turned, dark eyes lighting upon Jongdae. His lips curled and Jongdae swore he felt a spark jolt through him, thrilling and electric.

 

 He looked positively respondent in his pure white suit, sleeves lined with feathers flashing as he twirled to the music, body lithe and graceful.

 

Jongdae felt as if he was being appraised as the man’s eyes fixed upon him, unyielding even as he spun the lady on the other end of his ribbon.

 

Feeling slightly flushed beneath his collar from the intensity of his gaze, Jongdae straightened his blazer, swallowing as he forced his eyes away from the mysterious man.

 

Right on cue, Junmyeon appeared in his line of sight, clutching a glass of champagne in his hand.

 

“Your Highness, it’s time you danced,” he extended a hand and Jongdae took it. He could not resist casting one last look at the man once more over his back as Junmyeon paired him with a lady dressed in silver.

 

Jongdae pasted on a smile for the girl, ignoring the churning of his stomach as Junmyeon handed him one end of a silver ribbon. Her dress sparkled beneath the lights as if the stars themselves had been sewn into the skirt and it was all very distracting as he spun her into a complicated dance.

 

He could see Junmyeon out of the corner of his eye, smiling approvingly.

 

A quick twirl and all of a sudden, he found the man in white on the other end of his ribbon, smiling courteously from beneath his mask.

 

Jongdae stared, his body moving on autopilot, mesmerized by the man’s electric eyes, his fair skin and petal pink lips.

 

The ribbon slithered onto the ground as they cast it aside, the dance requiring one partner to draw the other close.

 

The man’s body was warm in his arms as he set a hand on his waist, lacing their fingers together. His skin was soft and the feathers around his wrist tickled, smooth and silky.

 

“I see you watching me,” his voice was melodious, like the sound of a stream over river rocks. Jongdae flushed as he spun him, their eyes locking.

 

The electricity between them was palpable, practically quivering with anticipation.

 

 As the music came to a stop, the man slipped out from the circle of his arms, one eye flashing him a wink before he was dancing away, his steps as light as air.

 

Jongdae could only watch with his mouth agape like a fish out of water, as he wove around the other dancers, darting out of the ballroom in a flurry of feathers.

 

He shoved his hands into his pockets, and to Junmyeon’s mortification, bolted after the man.

 

-

 

As if he had planned it, the man was standing on the balcony, waiting for him.

 

He glowed beneath the pearly moonlight, a vision of ethereal beauty and Jongdae’s heart throbbed, a strange feeling he had never experienced expanding in his chest.

 

“Who are you?” He stepped forward, reaching up to slide his own mask over his head. It was a risky move, he knew, but Jongdae wished to see him better, wished for him to see him better.

 

“I cannot remove my mask,” the man murmured, dipping his head towards Jongdae.

 

His voice was soft and lilting, almost musical in its quality.

 

Jongdae lifted a hand to touch the white feathers and the man leaned into his touch.

 

“It’s a curse. Only the love of someone who has never loved before can free me.”

 

Jongdae’s heart stuttered as the man turned his hand over, and he could see that the quills of his feathers were not glued to his sleeve like he thought they were, but actually growing out of his skin like a swan’s.

 

“Do they hurt?” He asked, a mixture of awe and disgust roiling in his stomach.

 

“They did.”

 

The man allowed him to touch them, the curious bumps of the quills sticking from his skin causing bile to rise to his throat.

 

He drew away quickly, fingers clenching into fists.

 

“Who would do such a thing?” Jongdae whispered, half to himself and the swan shrugged, feathers rippling like water in the moonlight.

 

His eyes glittered like the stars and Jongdae had the sudden urge to clutch him in his arms and give him everything.

 

Without thinking, he cupped the man’s face with one hand, the feathers on his mask silky beneath his fingers.

 

They were about the same height, the perfect position to slot their lips together, so he did.

 

The kiss was sloppy, unsure, true of Jongdae’s inexperience but it did nothing to quench the fire that ignited within him.

 

He could feel arms wrapping around his waist, the swan man pulling him closer, echoing his unsaid words.

 

“I-,” Jongdae stuttered when they pulled apart, a hand flying to his lips. The man was smiling, the quirk of his lips oddly adorable. “I’m Jongdae.”

 

Hands smoothed along his sides and Jongdae caught up one, pressing his lips against pale knuckles.

 

He saw pink lips part, as if he was about to say something, but the toll of the bell cut him off, an ominous shadow falling over them at the same time.

 

Jongdae looked up to see the shadow of a man perched on the balcony, dark eyes glimmering with barely concealed fury.

 

-

 

The figure towered over them both, eyes glowing like embers. He too wore a mask, one painted the black of the night sky, without the beauty of the stars. It was covered in jet black and tawny gold feathers, like those of a raven and an owl.

 

His heavy cloak radiated fear and darkness, sewn with more feathers like the ones in his mask.

 

He extended a hand without a word to Jongdae’s swan and Jongdae watched in confusion as conflicted emotions flitted across the swan prince’s face.

 

The man looked so very much like a grim reaper, come to deliver his swan prince that Jongdae reached for his sword, hidden beneath the folds of his blazer.

 

The swan prince encircled his wrist with his hand before he could draw his weapon, teeth nibbling at his lower lip. The expression on his face gave Jongdae pause.

 

“We must go.”

 

The mystery man’s voice was deep, smooth as if coated with honey. He leapt off the balcony, landing without a sound, catching up the swan prince’s hand and Jongdae jerked.

 

“At least tell me your name, so that I may see you again,” he said, hope flickering to life in his chest when the dark man froze. A strange expression look flitted across his face and he gestured impatiently at the swan’s pleading look.

 

His swan prince opened his mouth to speak as the bell tolled a second time, ringing in his ears.

 

“I-,” Jongdae could see his lips move, but no words came.

 

A horrified look fell across the prince’s face the same time the dark man seized him, urgency coating his voice. He was staring into the sky, where clouds had covered the moon.

 

“We must go, now!”

 

Before he could say another word, the dark man flung his cape of feathers around Jongdae’s prince, dragging him onto the balcony.

 

Jongdae cried out in shock, rushing to the railing when they both leapt off the platform and into the sky, melting into a single owl swooping off into the distance.

 

A tiny white feather floated onto the pale marble as the bell tolled for a third time, soft and fluffy against Jongdae’s skin. He picked it up, smoothing it tenderly, before tucking it into the pocket at his for safekeeping.

 

-

 

“We had an agreement,” Baekhyun flinched at the door slamming, Yifan yanking his mask from his face.

 

The man was angry, he could tell. His shoulders were tense, his body stiff as he stripped off his cape, dropping it upon Baekhyun’s bed.

 

He pressed his face into his hands and shrieked into them, a shudder going through him. Baekhyun backed away, still clothed in his white suit and mask.

 

He could not remove them either way.

 

He had tried as Yifan shoved him up the stairs to his room, fingers curling painfully around the edge of his mask to yank it off. But the mask stuck, as if it had been glued to his face, tugging on delicate skin.

 

His voice had gone too, and Yifan heard not a single word of protest.

 

Frustrated, the prince pulled open the bedside drawer, withdrawing the notepad and pen that lay inside.

 

He could have broken my spell. If you hadn’t interfered.

 

“There is more to this than breaking your spell,” Yifan growled at him, rubbing his face furiously, “your curse would be broken if you would just marry me.”

 

Baekhyun bit his lip, shaking his head violently.

 

I did agree to marry you. He wrote, his hand trembling. He could still see Jongdae’s eyes in his mind, glittering like stars, the curling kittenish lips that he longed to kiss once more.

 

If I had not met him tonight.

 

Yifan made a pained noise, as if someone had stabbed him in the gut.

 

“You mustn’t speak to him again,” he said, running fingers through his hair. It was all mussed, golden strands sticking up every which way. “We’re engaged, Baekhyun, please.”

 

The words stung, piercing Baekhyun like a sharpened spear. Fury burned hot through his body, and he wrote furiously, his fingers cramping from holding the pen so tightly.

 

I don’t have to marry you. Not if Jongdae loves me first. You have nothing to lose. All you’re doing is obeying your father, like a dog on a leash. I refuse to be a pawn in his game.

 

Yifan’s eyes widened at the letters, his fingers clenching so tight around the paper that it gave way, leaving finger shaped holes at the edges.

 

“My lover turns less and less human everyday,” his words were a snarl, so low and full of fury that Baekhyun could hardly understand him.

 

“The feathers cut him like knives. They bleed him everyday. I hear his screams in my head.”

 

His fingers were curled into fists so tight that blood was seeping into his nails.

 

“His bones break and his voice turns, until it is nothing but a song. I have not seen his face since my father discovered us.

 

He must suffer now. All because he dared to love me!”

 

The nearest vase flew off the table, the glass shattering against the wall.

 

Baekhyun recoiled as screams began to echo from the other side of that very wall; tortured cries of agony that made Baekhyun’s heart tremble with fear and sympathy.

 

Yifan’s face was twisted, contorted in an expression of fury and pain as he slammed his fist into the wall, so hard that they heard bones crack.

 

“Don’t tell me I have nothing to lose, Byun Baekhyun,” his voice was soft, dangerous as his lover’s shrieks rose in volume, like the most horrible kind of music, a cacophony of screams grating against their ears.

 

“Because I have lost everything.”

 

-

 

Jongdae ignored the ladies once more that night, much to Junmyeon’s chagrin. He refused to move from his seat, fingers curled around the delicate stem of his glass.

 

His eyes remained on the doors from the moment they were opened, and he sagged with disappointment with every prince and princess that was announced.

 

There was no sign of his mysterious swan prince, though he searched.

 

Junmyeon had given up trying to get him to dance, instead allowing himself to be spun by a man a full head taller than he, dressed in a cobalt coat made of rich velvet lined with gold.

 

Jongdae was just about to give up when a flash of white caught his eye.

 

He spun, watching the figure dart across the room, back to the balcony that they had met before.

 

Jongdae dropped his glass, breaking into a run. He was determined to get the man’s name this time.

 

The man was draped in a heavy white cloak lined with gold, looking an absolute vision as he spun beneath the moonlight, eyes darting about like a sparrow.

 

Jongdae knocked the marble doorway gently, pausing. The last thing he wanted was to frighten him away.

 

He was gratified to see his eyes light up, when he caught sight of him, holding out his hand.

 

“No scary owl guardian tonight?” He teased, immediately regretting his words when the prince froze, searching the night sky for any sign of the man who had taken him away the night before.

 

Jongdae caught up his hand, bringing it up to his lips. The man’s cheeks flushed and he tugged his hand away bashfully.

 

“Shall we dance?” The prince asked gently and his swan prince shook his head, turning his wrist over to show him words written into his wrist.

 

I can no longer speak. Save me, please.

 

Jongdae’s heart stuttered, his grip tightening unconsciously.

 

“How? Tell me how,” he demanded, and the prince chewed his lower lip, turning over his other wrist.

 

At the next ball, before the clock strikes midnight, vow that you will love only me for eternity. Only then will I be free.

 

Jongdae smoothed his fingers over the thin wrist, feeling the bumps in his skin. More feathers, he assumed.

 

His prince’s arms were already covered in them.

 

“I will,” he murmured under his breath, raising his head to meet eyes that sparkled like stars, “I promise you, I will.”

 

-

 

Yifan was nowhere to be seen when he returned late that night, having spent the rest of the ball in Jongdae’s arms.

 

His new feathers were bothering him, the quills poking at his skin as if they were about to burst forth at any moment.

 

Baekhyun hated them. With every feather he sprouted, he grew less and less human. They itched and they bled. His fingers were growing stiffer, his bones not bending quite right.

 

His time was running out, and Yifan, Yifan’s time was nearly up too.

 

He was about to return to his room when he heard them.

 

The screams.

 

There was heavy banging upon a door and he could hear Yifan’s voice, yelling above the cries in anguish.

 

Hugging his arms around his chest, he bolted up the stairs, following the screaming and banging. Every shriek of agony caused shivers down his spine and goosebumps on his skin.

 

He could hear the name now clearly, Yifan’s cries ringing in his ears.

 

“Yixing!”

 

There was a final shriek before all went silent.

 

“It is done,” Yifan was trembling when he found him, curled in the room that his lover had been confined in.

 

The door was ajar now, the floor still covered in caked blood.

 

Yifan was hunched over the bed, cradling something in his hands.

 

As Baekhyun drew closer, his breath catching in his throat, the prince unfurled, just enough for him to see.

 

A tiny nightingale was nestled in the palm of his hand, shivering. Its feathers were stained dark and as the moonlight lit upon the bird, Baekhyun could tell with a shudder that it was blood that caked its feathers.

 

The swan prince opened his mouth, wishing that he had the words to comfort him, but all he could do was to wrap his feathered arms around the grieving prince.

 

The nightingale tittered, spreading its little wings. It sang, beady eyes dark with sorrow, an apology.

 

Baekhyun’s stomach lurched when the nightingale leapt from Yifan’s hand, its little wings catching into the air.

 

“No, no!” Yifan was on his feet when the nightingale alighted upon the windowsill, turning its little golden head to gaze sadly at him.

 

It chirruped before flying off into the darkness of the night.

 

“No,” Yifan buried his face into his hands, sinking back onto the bed. His shoulders quivered and he wept openly, great heaving sobs of anguish.

 

Baekhyun held him close, feeling tears drip onto his skin. He Yifan’s hair tenderly as the man cried himself to sleep as the song of the nightingale filled the night, trilling from the sorcerer’s silent gardens.

 

-

 

Jongdae could feel his skin prickling from how much his mother and Junmyeon were glaring at him.

 

He had forced himself to dance with one or two of the princesses in order to buy himself some time to hide by the banquet table.

 

There had been no sign of his love throughout the night and his stomach was aflutter with nerves. He knew he should not feel this way about a man he had only met twice but there was no denying the attraction, the electricity between them.

 

He cradled his wine glass nervously, seeking out the dance floor for any flash of white, any flutter of white feathers.

 

Surely the swan would not leave him hanging? He had seemed so real, so desperate the night before.

 

Jongdae could still feel the feathers, silky between his fingers. He had touched the quills threatening to burst forth, soothed the man’s pain of losing his voice.

 

Junmyeon was eyeing him again, which meant that it was time for another pointless dance with a woman he would never love.

 

He was just stepping away from the banquet table, bracing himself for the inevitable dance invitation when the heavy doors opened.

 

All heads turned to look as a man stepped through, clothed entirely in white. His cape was white velvet, his sleeves lined with feathers and he wore a crown woven with gold.

 

Jongdae swore his heart stopped beating at the sight.

 

The swan prince met his eyes shyly and as if pulled by a magnet, he found himself walking towards him, much to his mother’s despair.

 

“May I have this dance?”

 

The ballroom was so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Jongdae’s heart was thudding wildly in his chest as he extended his hand, near shaking with nerves.

 

His love bowed his head, lacing their fingers together before a shell shocked audience.

 

The orchestra struck up a tune and Jongdae led the dance, his racing heart finally calming in the presence of his love.

 

His love.

 

His swan prince was silent as they dance, his eyes strangely lacking in their usual spark. Jongdae frowned to himself. Perhaps he was worried that Jongdae would not keep his word.

 

He gripped his fingers tighter, smiling to reassure him, but the prince only bowed his head, determinedly keeping their eyes apart.

 

“What’s wrong?” He whispered when the dance required them to press up close, the prince’s hair tickling his cheek.

 

His love only shook his head, a forced smile appearing on his lips. He turned his wrist over as the music faded into the night, eyes flitting quickly over the black ink written over white skin.

 

Your promise.

 

Jongdae glanced outside at the giant clock tower, inhaling sharply. The ball had passed so quickly that he never realised the time.

 

“I love you,” he murmured, leaning to kiss him but the prince darted away, keeping his wrist exposed. Dark eyes flitted to the clock face and back to him and Jongdae understood.

 

He took his hand in his, dropping to one knee before him. A hush fell over the ballroom as all eyes fixed upon him. His heart was thudding wildly, his blood roaring in his ears as he gripped the prince’s hand with sweaty fingers.

 

“I would spend an eternity loving you, if you would have me,” he exhaled. The prince turned his other wrist towards him.

 

Do you swear it?

 

“I do,” Jongdae pressed his lips to the knuckles of the hand he was holding and everyone gasped.

 

His swan prince bowed his head, but something was wrong. His lips were twisted, as if he were in pain. His lips parted, as if he wished to say something but his knees buckled beneath him before he could.

 

Jongdae surged up just as the prince’s eyes rolled back in his head, the full weight of his body falling into his arms as he collapsed. He struck the floor hard on his knees, his lover cradled in his arms, pain spiking through his bones.

 

Thunder rumbled and Jongdae turned to see lightning flash across the sky. There was a peal of maniacal laughter, coupled with the terrified cries of the guests as the chandeliers flickered, half the bulbs exploding in a shower of sparks.

 

An owl flew into the room, elongating and transforming into a man with a crooked nose and the sharpest features Jongdae had ever seen.

 

He carried a staff, on which perched a raven the colour of midnight and his eyes were positively glittering with glee.

 

Someone wailed, a bone-chilling sound of anguish and Jongdae looked down at his lover as the man brandished his staff.

 

“Look now, Prince Jongdae. Look upon the man to whom you have sworn eternal love!”

 

Jongdae yanked his hands away in shock when the pure white feathers melted away into tawny gold, the petite body shifting and changing into the very man who had swept his swan prince away on the first night.

 

The sorcerer cackled at the look on his face and another wail sent shivers up Jongdae’s spine. He spun around to see his prince, his dearest swan prince perched on the balcony, his arms spread skyward.

 

He was changing.

 

Jongdae bolted as feathers burst forth from the man’s skin, spewing blood all over the white marble. His heart was in his mouth when he saw dark eyes flicker to meet his, full of sorrow and longing.

 

“No!”

 

The sound Jongdae made was barely human when the swan prince turned and leapt, white wings catching in the wind, the sorcerer flying out after him.

 

His fingers were covered in blood as he clutched at the railing, only hands in his blazer stopping him from leaping off after him.

 

“Jongdae!”

 

It was Junmyeon, holding him back, pulling him down from the banister. His friend looked just as terrified as he, clutching him close as he stared back at the horizon.

 

The heavens opened up, rain spilling down in sheets as thunder rumbled ominously. Jongdae felt as if someone had put a knife into his chest, the pain damn near impossible to bear.

 

He had been so close.

-

 

The man was on his feet when they returned, his arms pinned at his back by the palace guards. He looked more resigned than triumphant, with his eyes cast down at the floor.

 

Jongdae marched right up to him, eyes narrowed.

 

“Where is he?”

 

He demanded, one hand curled around the hilt of his sword. The man regarded him stiffly and turned his head, refusing to speak a word.

 

A nightingale’s song filled the night, causing tears to spring up in Jongdae’s eyes despite the fury bubbling in his chest.

 

The man raised his head just in time to see the nightingale fluttering in through the open window, soaked to the bone and singing its little heart out.

 

His eyes widened as the nightingale landed upon Jongdae’s shoulder, chirruping urgently.

 

He jerked against the guards’ iron grip, his lips parting with an incredulous cry.

 

“Yixing?”

 

The nightingale sang even louder, its tiny claws digging into Jongdae’s shoulders, its voice cloaked with urgency.

 

“Yixing,” the man struggled, his expression one of agony. The nightingale spared him a glance, as if chastising him and flew onto his shoulder, tugging at his sleeve with a little talon.

 

As if he understood the bird, the man was shaking his head.

 

“No I can’t, he’d kill me. He promised-,” the nightingale cut him off, chattering angrily.

 

“What’s it saying?” Jongdae growled, impatient. The man snapped something incomprehensible at the bird and the nightingale flew in circles about his head, pecking at his hair almost exasperatedly.

 

“He’d kill us both,” Jongdae narrowed his eyes, turning his hand over, palm up . The nightingale alighted in his palm, still chittering noisily. It chirped, and then began to sing, a slow sad song that gripped the hearts of everyone in the room.

 

The man visibly deflated.

 

His eyes glittered with unshed tears as he shrugged off the hands of the men holding him, warning them back with bared teeth when they tried to control him.

 

“I can take you to Baekhyun.”

 

-

 

The weather seemed to be working against them, howling winds and lashing rain. Yixing the nightingale was tucked away neatly inside the man’s cape of feathers as he prepared to magic them to the tower. He had introduced himself as Yifan and said nothing more.

 

Junmyeon had insisted upon accompanying them, worried for the prince’s safety but Jongdae had only one thing in mind.

 

Baekhyun.

 

At long last, he finally could put a name to the face that had enchanted him on that very first night of the ball. It rolled off his tongue sweetly, full of longing. He kept the name close to his heart, just as Yixing kept close to Yifan, trilling a soft song to encourage him as the night wove around them, cold and unyielding.

 

For a moment, he could see nothing.

 

When the darkness parted again, they were standing in the middle of a courtyard, dried leaves crunching underfoot as they approached the gates. The place reeked of abandonment, with only the occasional sad whistle or chirp coming from inside the tower.

 

Stone statues littered the empty gardens, so lifelike that Jongdae had to suppress a shudder. They were of people, men and women frozen in terrified expressions. One had his sword drawn, another with arms raised to protect his face.

 

“Your Highness!” Jongdae whipped around, a cry tearing out of his throat as Junmyeon reached for him the very same moment gray stone crept up the valet’s legs, freezing him in place.

 

“What’s happening?” He stumbled forward, catching hold of his friend’s hands even as the stone continued its way up his body. “Junmyeon!”

 

“My father’s work. He must be here. We must go quickly!” Yifan’s jaw worked and Jongdae was about to protest when a screech of delight filled the air.

 

He jerked away from Junmyeon, silver flashing in the moonlight as he drew his sword. Junmyeon wailed in agony as the stone climbed up to his face, his body a literal statue.

 

“We have guests, what an honour,” his voice sent shivers down Jongdae’s spine as he surveyed the prince and his frozen valet. “Thank you, my son. For bringing me more ornaments for my lawn.”

 

Bile rose up in Jongdae’s throat as he thought back to the statues they had passed. They had all been real people.

 

“Release my friend,” he growled, with more bravery than he felt. Junmyeon’s eyes were burning into his back, every instinct screaming at him to run.

 

The sorcerer cocked his head, fluttering to land between Jongdae and Junmyeon. Long curved fingers reminding him starkly of owl talons reached out, curling around Junmyeon’s face.

 

Junmyeon whimpered, his lips working faintly.

 

Run, milord

 

“He’s pretty,” the sorcerer murmured with a smirk, “what a pity.”

 

“No!” Jongdae lunged forward, only a hand on the back of his shirt pulling him back. The stone swallowed up Junmyeon’s face and there he stood, a stone statue, silent forever.

 

“Junmyeon!” Jongdae’s knees buckled and a sob tore through his throat. No matter how insufferable he had been, Junmyeon had been his best and closest friend. His heart felt as if it had been torn in half, left dripping in blood for the pain he felt.

 

He could feel the sorcerer’s eyes upon him as he wrenched free of Yifan’s hold, stumbling to the statue.

 

He knew in his heart that there was nothing he could do, as his fingers traced the smooth cold marble that made up Junmyeon’s face. His fists curled and he buried his head into the crook of Junmyeon’s neck, barely able to suppress a scream of rage and guilt.

 

He had to free Baekhyun now. He could not have let his best friend die in vain.

 

Where’s Baekhyun?” He managed, swallowing back tears. The sorcerer leered at him, yellowed teeth glinting in the light

 

“None of your concern, princeling. You are already promised to another,” he jerked his chin in Yifan’s direction and his son wilted, one hand pressing to the bird shaped lump in his chest.

 

“If he has,” all eyes fell upon the man with golden hair, his expression torn. “Then turn Yixing back, like you promised.”

 

His eyes were full of pleading, tears glittering on the ends of his lashes as he withdrew the nightingale from his cloak. Yixing chittered softly in his hand, pecking at him lightly.

 

The sorcerer’s lips pulled back into a mocking smile and he reached for the bird the very moment Yifan withdrew his own sword from the folds of his clothes, flinging the nightingale into the air.

 

“Run!” He cried as his father lurched back, the blade of the sword just barely missing him. Jongdae did not think twice, darting after the golden bird flying through the moonlit sky.

 

He heard a horrific screech and a glance behind him showed the sorcerer battling his son, both as massive owls in the sky.

 

Blood spurted from slash wounds made from razor-sharp talons and beaks, spilling onto grey stones.

 

Jongdae did not stay to watch the fight, sprinting as fast as he could as Yixing the nightingale sang his song into the night.

 

The door was heavy as he flung it open, firelight blinding him as it glinted off the thousands of golden cages in the room. Sorrowful black eyes surveyed him, the menagerie of birds eerily silent.

 

Yixing trilled sharply and Jongdae raised his sword, slashing open the cages one after another, as many as he could reach.

 

The silence cracked, the songs of a thousand birds filling the air as they rushed for freedom, a rainbow of feathers surging through the room.

 

Jongdae bolted for the door, Yixing’s song growing ever more urgent as he ran. As the song of the birds subsided behind him, he could hear the screaming now, the tortured cries of a man slowly turning into swan.

 

Baekhyun.

 

His heart thumped wildly in his chest, the name a prayer on his lips as he yanked open the doors, his blood roaring in his ears as he followed Yixing’s little golden body flitting in the dim light.

 

He slammed into the locked door, fury giving him inhuman strength and the wood exploded, splinters of wood stabbing into his skin.

 

“Baekhyun!”

 

-

 

Baekhyun was kneeling at the center of the room, his wings pinned beneath heavy chains. White fluff had already covered his chest, crawling up his throat, rivulets of red trickling down white feathers.

 

Jongdae’s heart cracked and he dropped his sword, staggering to fall at his lover’s side.

 

“Baekhyun,” his fingers curled around the man’s jaw and glazed eyes turned to meet his. He touched the lump in Baekhyun’s throat, tears falling unbidden onto the feathers in his chest. “Baekhyun, I’m sorry. I… I didn’t know.”

 

The swan prince keened, turning his face to hide in Jongdae’s chest and Jongdae let him, carding fingers through dark hair.

 

Beside them, Yixing kept up his song, fluttering to perch upon Baekhyun’s shoulder.

 

A loud screech tore through the air and all of them jerked in shock when a figure crashed through the window, crumpling at Jongdae’s feet. His shirt was riddled with holes, his body covered in gashes. Blood was pouring from his wounds, sinking into the hardwood floor.

 

Yixing shrieked in horror, his song falling silent as he fluttered onto Yifan’s still body, pecking hopefully at the latter’s chest and torn clothing. The man himself was still, his chest barely moving as he glared at the sorcerer with glassy eyes, who had materialised behind Baekhyun, fingers curled around his staff.

 

Jongdae lunged for his sword but it skittered out of reach, the sorcerer cackling in his ears as he leant forward, plucking the tiny nightingale from the ground.

 

“No,” Yifan moaned in pain, pushing himself upright. His arm buckled and he collapsed, crying out.

 

The nightingale was still singing, its song growing ever louder and more sorrowful as the sorcerer closed his hand around it, his grin dripping with blood.

 

The song dissolved into a shriek of agony, the tiny bird bones crunching in his hand. Yifan screamed as if he had been stabbed, flinging out a hand as his father dropped the bird, the tiny nightingale body changing and shifting before it hit the ground hard, as a human boy.

 

Jongdae flung himself across Baekhyun, shielding him as Yifan screeched, his sword flying into his hand. He swung, wildly, his eyes filled with madness as he gazed upon the broken body lying at his father’s feet.

 

A sob tore from his throat as a broken song still emitted from Yixing’s crushed windpipe, the nightingale smiling up at him serenely through the tears staining his cheeks.

 

Jongdae slipped his hand into his coat, withdrawing his hidden dagger as the sorcerer towered over him, sweeping his own son aside as if he weighed nothing. Yifan crumpled onto the ground beside his lost lover, another body in the sorcerer’s conquest for power.

 

“You will never be free, Byun Baekhyun. Never-,” the words were cut short as the man leant down to curl bloodied fingers around Jongdae’s throat and the prince the dagger between his ribs, up and up until he felt the man shudder, blood spewing from his open mouth.

 

“You won’t have him,” he said, the words steadier than he felt, before he was rising to his feet, kicking the sorcerer backwards so hard that he struck against the stone wall with a sickening crack, his staff falling onto the floor.

 

Jongdae stared for a moment, bile rising up in his throat, his knees suddenly wobbly. He looked down and Baekhyun’s eyes were shining back up at him, like stars in the sky.

 

“Make things right,” he breathed as Jongdae fell to his knees beside him, glancing around them. Yifan had managed to drape himself over his dying lover, his tears gleaming opals in the moonlight. Yixing’s song was finally dying, its final notes fluttering weakly in the air.

 

The room was silent then, except for Yifan’s soft sobs of grief as his lover breathed his last, muffled into Yixing’s chest.

 

Jongdae looked at the staff lying beside the dead sorcerer and climbed back to his feet. His fingers closed around the rough wooden bark, a loud crack echoing in the room before the dark magic could seep into him.

 

He tossed the staff against the far wall, watching it splinter into pieces, black and gold emitting from the broken parts.

 

The nightingale’s song started up again, growing ever louder and stronger as the gold mist obscured them from view. Jongdae clutched Baekhyun close to him as they watched the mist swirl around the sorcerer’s son and his dying lover, parting to reveal two nightingales, their wings beating in sync with each other.

 

Without a backward glance, the two nightingales flew out of the window, never to be seen again.

 

Baekhyun made a soft sound beside him and Jongdae turned to see the feathers fall like snowflakes, painlessly from his lover’s arms. He ran his hands along the smooth skin, revelling in Baekhyun’s smile.

 

Footsteps hurtled up the stairs and Jongdae spun, crying out in delight as he released Baekhyun’s hand, the feeling of Junmyeon’s arms warm and strong around him breaking the dam inside his chest. He crumpled then, sobbing his heart out with stuttering apologies to his best friend.

 

Junmyeon gathered him close, with a grateful look at his best friend’s lover, coaxing him into the embrace.

 

They stayed until all the stone statues had melted and the birds were free from their feathery prisons.  And there were people, too many people coming up to thank them for their heroics and singing songs of praise.

 

-

 

The wedding was the talk of the century, by everyone in the kingdom, the atmosphere so filled with joy and music. Birds flew in and out of the palace as the prince led his groom out onto the palace lawn, reciting the vows from his heart.

 

Baekhyun was just brushing back Jongdae’s hair to press a kiss against his lips for the umpteenth time, his face glowing with happiness, when he heard the song.

 

Gripping his husband’s waist, he turned him and they both watched as a pair of nightingales flew in a circle above their heads in broad daylight, singing a song that filled their hearts with promises of peace and love.

 

“Do you swear to love me for eternity and after?” Baekhyun murmured against his lips as he kissed him again. Jongdae smiled, leaning his forehead against his husband’s.

 

“I swear. For eternity and ever after.”