His eyes burned like coals, as if he was trying to carve a window to his soul. 

It was not difficult to decipher the desire in the prince’s eyes, the longing he did not keep from his gaze. His touch lingered whenever they passed, tingles spreading from where their bare skin touched.

He made his heart stir, made his heart feel things that Yifan had not felt for centuries, until he came upon the wintry court as a wandering soldier and stayed, welcomed by their second prince.

Crown Prince Junmyeon was the first, the loveliest of them all. He was gentle and kind and so charming but as untouchable as the distant moon. Prince Baekhyun was the youngest, boisterous and bright, shining as brilliantly as the sun.

And then there was the second, Prince Yixing, the one with the sweetest voice, who could enchant with a single word, as beautiful as the stars that shined in the night sky.

He who had captured Yifan’s frozen heart when he first arrived at court, soothing his tired limbs with gentle words and kind actions.

“Are you lost?” The voice was sweet, like streams running over river stones. 

Yifan raised his head from the torn map he held, shivering ever so slightly. Wind bit into his bones like a rabid dog, painful enough to steal his breath from his lungs. 

His coat was wearing thin. The chill was bleeding through the soles of his boots, worn from his journeys. There were stones pricking through, stabbing into his feet as he straightened, shifting to look at the man who had spoken.

He had been traveling for a long time. It was rare for him to stay in any one place for a long time. He had no need to. Laying down roots would only make it more painful for him when it came time to leave. 

So he yanked up everything, and travelled with only a small pack and his trusty boots and sword, a soldier in a world without a war. 

The battles were already over and kingdoms were at peace. 

During his travels, he had experienced many weathers and climates. The last kingdom he had stayed was warm. 

Which was the reason why he had not been expecting this freezing cold wintry court right past the mountain border.

The man who stood before him was wrapped up in furs, snowy white even against his fair skin, surrounded by guards dressed in a similar fashion. His cheeks were lightly flushed, contrasting the paleness of his skin.

“I have no place intended for me,” Yifan answered, his gaze drawn to the man’s mismatched eyes. He had one green and another brown, glittering like stars.

His rouged lips pressed together tightly as if the very thought distressed him and he offered his hand, gloved with burgundy velvet.

“Come with me,” he insisted when Yifan did not take his hand, wary of the guards around him, “you may stay at the palace to wait out this storm.”

It was a storm indeed. 

The world had turned white, the air filled with swirling snow as they trudged through the frozen town.

Against the guards’ protest, the man offered Yifan his cloak to shield him from the wintry weather.

He did not seem affected by the snowstorm all around them at all.

 

-

 

Yifan marveled at the beauty of the castle they came upon, all white marble and silver trim.

There was a very curious tree in the middle of the courtyard, gleaming gold and out of place in such wintry weather. Its leaves were gold as well, little triangular flakes of it gleaming in the light of the place.

Even in the dead of winter, the branches were full, b with golden leaves. 

No snow touched the sparkling branches and as Yifan walked closer, the reason grew clear.

The tree radiated warmth, like a lit oil lamp, its trunk shimmering like the flames in a hearth.

The heat was intoxicating and he did not realize he had reached out to touch it until a gentle hand curled around his wrist and pulled him away.

“That is the life force of our kingdom,” the man smiled kindly as he guided Yifan away from the golden tree. “My brothers and I pool our powers into it so that the seasons change and everything runs its course.”

His expression slipped a little as they passed it.

A little bit of the bark on the right side of the tree had dulled, turning into a dark metallic gray.

The castle was warm and inviting as the guards swung open the heavy doors, Yifan’s boots sinking into a plush silver carpet as the man led him through the hall.

Yifan’s eyes were immediately drawn to the silver throne, studded with sapphires and practically glowing beneath the chandeliers that hung on the ceiling.

There was a man reclining upon it, a cloak of fur wrapped around one shoulder. His dark blue eyes were staring straight through him when he turned to survey them, as piercing as the moon.

It was such a contrast against the younger man, really just out of boyhood, seated on the dais, toying with a little golden sphere with a ring attached to it.

The younger one had gold streaking through the darkness of his hair as he rose to his feet, a smile playing on his face.

“You’re back!” he cried. The man who stood at Yifan’s side smiled, sweeping into a low bow.

“Brother.”

Yifan felt very exposed as gleaming gold eyes flitted over him openly, shining like pennies. 

The older man on the throne turned, his cloak rustling, loud in the quiet hall. 

Yifan had to stifle a gasp.

He was beautiful, a silver teardrop embedded with a jewel the colour of the sky at midnight twinkling in the middle of his forehead, his silver circlet reflecting the light.

That was not why he was stunned.

It was the splash of silver across his right cheekbone, dull like the patch of dead bark on the golden tree, marring his perfect complexion. 

His eyes were as cold as the moon herself, high in the distant sky as he regarded him.

“Who is this?” 

The prince’s voice was smooth and silky, like music to his ears, yet the frostiness pierced him, an icicle.

“I found him out in the storm. He is a soldier, worn and weary. He can stay, can’t he?” the man who found him said. Yifan startled.

He had told him nothing about his past, about the pain that had burdened him in the long centuries that he travelled alone.

Eyes the colour of the night sky traversed over Yifan’s body. He shivered.

Even cloaked in the thick fur coat, there was a chill in the air that seemed to dull even the youngest man’s flame as the silence stretched on.

“Now is a bad time, Yixing,” the eldest said, his tone gentle. His eyes were full of sorrow, suddenly distant as he turned to survey the white storm still raging outside.

“He has nowhere to go,” the one named Yixing pressed, “at least for this winter, brother. It would not look well if we were to turn away someone in need.”

Yifan wanted to retort that he was far from needing their charity, but one look at the winter storm outside the castle and he knew that out there, he would not survive for long.

The eldest prince’s jaw tightened and he jerked his head stiffly.

Yifan stood stock still as the guards peeled the burgundy cloak from his body, draping it back over the prince.

Cold hands gripped at his elbow and he tensed, glancing towards the man called Yixing.

The man smiled at him, gentle and reassuring, gesturing for him to go on.

Yifan could not help glancing back as he was led away, presumably to a bedchamber, watching as the prince knelt at his brother’s feet, reaching to greet them both properly.

 

-

 

It was Yixing who begged leave for Yifan to stay, after he had proved himself useful by defeating every guard that the eldest prince pitted against him for their entertainment.

He was heaving, red and sweaty when Yixing brought him the news, his pink lips pulled into a soft smile and for the first time in centuries, Yifan stayed.

Yifan learnt much in his time at the castle, how the eldest prince, Junmyeon softened only in the presence of his brothers, how Baekhyun, the youngest, was born during the longest day of the summer, with streaks of gold in his hair was the most mischievous of the three, delighting in harmless pranks.

Yixing sang for them after dinners, just the three of them, and Yifan in attendance, his voice as sweet as a songbird’s. He was the brothers’ solace, the one with tender words and the softest touch.

Yifan was privy to Junmyeon’s secret conversations with Yixing late into the night. 

The brothers were always too distracted to notice his presence and Yifan had learnt how to work some magic of his own in his long years. He knew there was something not quite right with the castle when the snowstorm never stopped, despite Yixing’s repeated assurances that it would pass. 

“It won’t be long before it spreads,” read one such conversation, Junmyeon’s tone full of sorrow and bitterness as Yixing combed fingers through his hair. Yifan watched from his hiding place as he touched delicate fingers to the dark dulled patch on his cheek. 

It did nothing to mar his beauty, his face illuminated by the moonlight streaming in from the window. 

Yixing touched the mark, chewing his lip thoughtfully.

“He could save us,” he said, full of hope. Yifan hated the way his face fell flat when his brother scoffed, full of bitterness as he pushed himself up from the bed to turn to him. 

“Don’t do that to yourself, brother. Nothing can save us. No one is coming in this storm.”

He yanked off his tunic, and Yifan clapped a hand over his mouth. 

The silver had spread, dark grey patches blooming over the prince’s back like a strange fungus. 

“You didn’t tell me,” Yixing murmured, similarly horrified as he brushed his fingers over the bloom. He had tears in his eyes as Junmyeon put his shirt back on, trembling as his brother gathered him close.

“I’m sorry, Yixing,” he murmured into his brother’s ear, Yixing burying his face into his chest, his shoulders shaking from the full weight of his emotions. 

They clung to each other like that, long after Yifan had left them alone. 

 

-

 

Yifan had only ventured out of the castle only once, to have a closer look at the golden tree that pulsed as if it had a life of its own. 

It did of course, as a living tree, but the bark looked as if there were rivers of gold streaking through it, pulsing like a heartbeat. 

The dark grey patch had spread like a disease, covering more of the gleaming trunk.

Prince Baekhyun, who had appeared out of nowhere, stopped him before his hand could make contact with it.

“Don’t touch that,” he snapped and Yifan recoiled. The prince’s usual smile was dim. He looked sickly, his skin paler than usual, his gold streaked hair limp on his head. 

“Junmyeon doesn’t like anyone to touch it,” he said more gently, his eyes taking on a wistful look as he surveyed the tree. Yifan watched as he held out his hand, only a hair’s breadth away from the trunk of the tree.

The tree suddenly seemed to glow a little brighter, the pulsing a little quicker.

“We gave our everything for this tree,” Baekhyun murmured, his eyes sad. Yifan wanted to ask what the symbolism was. Why would the brothers expend so much power in keeping a tree alive in the dead of winter?

The sorrow in Baekhyun’s eyes kept the words back and he held his tongue, watching as the prince skimmed his fingers over the dark patch that marred the tree’s golden bark, his face downcast.

Yixing was the prince whom he spent most of his time with, always with a kind word or his gentle attention.

It was he who listened when Yifan spilled his stories, like water from a dam.

He soaked up his stories, his pain, like a sponge when Yifan laid himself bare before him one wintry night and told him about his frozen heart.

Yixing had only laid his hand over Yifan’s heart and cried, warm wet tears that fell over his .

Yifan thought he felt nothing.

He never did.

He had never seen it as a curse, only a blessing that his heart could never be broken again, that his heart could never be a source of his pain.

Yet he had felt a little, just a twinge from where his heart had frozen, when the prince wept over him.

 

-

 

The storm did not pass, only growing ever stronger as the days ran on, Yifan losing count of how long he had stayed in the castle. Days bled into weeks and weeks into months and before he knew it, he had been there a year, a personal guard to the second prince.

Yifan did not know what he was to protect him from.

The castle stood in the middle of the storm, wind and snow swirling around it day and night. Nothing and no one, could go in or out.

He too was stuck,  with no way out of the strange kingdom. 

He hardly noticed the passing time however, for the brothers kept him busy. Yixing was always by his side, whether reading or just spending time with him. He taught him how to dance, the funny dances that the soldiers used to do during the war to relieve the burden on their shoulders. Yifan had never heard a more beautiful laugh than when Yixing first tried to dance.

“I don’t think I’m very good at this,” he laughed, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. His hair was damp with sweat and his skin glistened with it, his thin robes sticking to his body.

“Nonsense,” Yifan replied, smiling as he released the prince’s hand, “you’re having fun and that’s what the dance is about.”

They came to a stop before a massive bay window. Yixing leaned against it, sighing as the chill from the glass cooled his heated cheeks.

He was prettily flushed as he laid his forehead against the window.

“I haven’t had this much fun in a while,” he said quietly, touching a hand to his cheeks. His smile was slipping slowly away and that made Yifan feel a little strange inside.

“Well, I’m always happy to serve, Your Highness,” he said. Yixing turned his head, resting his cheek against the glass to look at him with one green eye.

“You do make me very happy,” he murmured. The implication in his tone was clear. 

Yifan shuffled his feet, a little uncomfortable as the prince’s gaze burned into him. 

He was saved from having to make a comment when the door opened and Prince Baekhyun appeared, bearing a tray of sweetmeats and glasses of goblin wine.

“Junmyeon had me bring this in,” he said cheerfully when they both turned to him, setting his burden down onto the nearest table, “he thought you might be hungry.”

The food was delicious and the wine was just strong enough for Yifan to forget about green eyes burning with fire.

 

-

 

Baekhyun enjoyed the pianoforte and Yifan often found him before it, playing haunting tunes that floated through the entire castle. 

Yifan would seat himself just a little out of sight and read a book in the alcove by the hearth while Baekhyun played. He sang too, his voice equally as beautiful as his brother’s. 

“I didn’t see you there.” Yifan startled. 

He had not even noticed that the melody had long faded away, so absorbed he was in his book. 

Baekhyun was standing before him, staring down at him shyly.

“You sing very well,” he replied, turning a page in his book slowly, smiling to himself when the prince blushed.

“Not as well as Yixing. He is our songbird,” Baekhyun said, moving to perch himself on the armrest of Yifan’s chair.

His face was open and curious as he peeked at the book.

“What are you reading?” 

Yifan shrugged. He had seen Junmyeon reading an old worn copy that Yixing explained to him was his name day gift from their parents.

“It’s a mortal book called The Iliad,” he answered. Baekhyun’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Junmyeon adores his copy,” he said, touching the page with a finger. The light glinted off a gold ring on his ring finger.

Yifan nudged it, tilting his head to the side.

“What’s that?” He had never paid the ring much attention before but now he saw that it was shaped like an ivy’s vine, a rose blooming at the very center.

“Nothing.”

Baekhyun withdrew his hand, his cheeks flushing strangely.

He cradled his hand as if it was something precious, though his words made no connection.

“It’s nothing at all.”

Yifan raised his eyebrows but did not press for more. He was only a guest at their castle. There was no need to pull their secrets from them if it did not concern him.

 

-

 

It took the Crown Prince a lot longer to warm up to Yifan than the others. Yifan thought he knew why.

When Baekhyun was not in the library playing his music, Yifan often stumbled upon the eldest prince in his favourite spot, an alcove with a large bay window overlooking the front courtyard.

The golden tree could be seen from that very window. It was there that Prince Junmyeon nested with his books and mulled wine.

The first time Yifan found him in the library, he had steered clear almost immediately, not wishing to disturb his peace.

The second time, the prince spotted him before he could flee and the third, he called after him.

“I can see you.” Junmyeon’s voice was rich and velvety, like chocolate in his ears. Yifan peeked out from behind the bookshelf he had been perusing to see Prince Junmyeon reclining against the window, his fur cloak draped over him.

He made a very pretty picture, all pale skin against the dark blue of his cloak. The jewel on his forehead only served to accentuate the colour of his eyes, glittering in the flickering oil lamps.

“I apologize. I did not mean to intrude.” Yifan bowed, already preparing to leave but the prince made a careless gesture.

A little footstool came skidding along. Junmyeon jerked his chin in its direction, “you may sit if you wish. I could do with some company.” 

Unsure of what else to do, Yifan plucked the book he had been studying from the shelf, moving to sit himself.

He tried to read his book, very aware of the gentle turning of pages above him as the prince read, the fur trim on his cloak tickling his face when he shifted.

The tension between them was palpable until Junmyeon snapped his book shut with a soft groan. 

Yifan could smell the scent of cinnamon and heavy spices filling the air as he drained his mug. He looked up just in time to see Junmyeon’s eyes glow blue before he sank back against the glass window, tucking his knees to his chest.

He was much smaller than Yifan had thought, all curled up like that, practically swallowed up by his heavy cloak.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” Yifan asked, moving away to look up at him.

Junmyeon twisted his head to glance at him, his eyes dreamy, the way Yixing’s got sometimes.

“I’m fine. Goblin brewed wine is always a little strong for me,” he said softly, patting the space beside him. He tilted his head so that his face was squished up against the glass, blue eyes unfocused.

“We used to be so happy,” he said wistfully. 

Yifan did not know if he was speaking to him or himself, the words were so soft.

Junmyeon turned his body so that he was curled up sideways against the glass. His eyes were fixed upon the golden tree in the courtyard as he flexed his fingers.

Yifan saw the tree glow a little brighter, as if in response and wondered once more what was so special about the tree.

All three brothers seemed to have a connection to the tree but Junmyeon seemed especially fascinated.

It was a mystery that he wished to unravel as the tree never seemed even close to dying, even with the grey patch on its trunk, mirrored on Junmyeon’s cheek.

He thought he knew why the prince had taken so long to warm up to him now though, as Junmyeon touched the glass, tracing the tree into the frost.

“Your heart,” he said and Junmyeon froze, turning to look at him. His eyes were as cold as the storm that raged outside, pools of deep blue, “I can see it.”

For a moment, he thought the prince might strike him, his eyes blazing to life, but something seemed to snap within him and he deflated. 

“I can see yours too,” he replied, holding up his hand. 

There was a beat of silence and Yifan could hear his breathing in his ears, his blood roaring.

“You think it a blessing,” the prince said at last, turning his head so that he was staring at the golden tree once more. He trailed his fingers on the freezing glass and shivered, drawing his cloak higher up his body.

“Who hurt you so much?” 

Yifan thought for a moment. Here was a prince with a heart like his, yet they thought so differently about it. 

“Many people,” he replied, “mortals, sirens and the fae. Us. We are the worst of them all.”

Junmyeon hummed, twisting the rings he wore on his fingers. His expression was thoughtful.

“Baekhyun had a fae lover once,” he said, “one of us. A faery prince.” 

The prince’s gaze turned far away, as if he was remembering something that happened a long time ago.

“He was as radiant as the sun, Baekhyun’s perfect compliment. And he loved him with all of his heart. Sometimes I wonder…”

He trailed off, lost in thought and for a long moment, Yifan thought that he had forgotten that he was there. 

The prince shook himself and waved his hand, a clear dismissal. Yifan left him to his thoughts,  the perfect picture as he leaned against the glass window, with his cloak spread out around him.

 

-

When the first leaf fell, losing its golden luster as it swirled onto the frozen ground, the brothers felt its loss as one. 

They were lounging in the great library, wrapped up in their fur cloaks. Baekhyun was at the pianoforte, his delicate fingers wringing sweet melodies for Yixing to harmonize to. Junmyeon was smiling down at his books as the music filled the room.

Yifan was seated in a little footstool at Yixing’s feet, at the prince’s insistence. He could feel the prince’s eyes burning into him even as he busied himself with a book. 

He could not read a word as Yixing’s voice washed over him like a blanket, soft and soothing. The prince sang in a language that he could not understand, yet he could feel the emotions keenly as Baekhyun played the keys of the pianoforte, rising up in a crescendo. 

Yixing’s voice soared like a bird up to the rafters and Yifan was bracing himself for the when Junmyeon made a strangled sound and Yixing’s note fell flat, Baekhyun’s playing crashing into a cacophony of dissonance.

Yifan leapt to his feet when Junmyeon swayed, pressing a hand to his petal pink lips. He had gone white, the streak of grey on his skin ashen.

“Your Highness?” Yixing was pale too, his body wracked with shivers even with the fur cloak about his shoulders. 

THe prince’s eyes were clouded as he looked towards his older brother, Yifan crying out in alarm when he tried to rise and his knees would not support him.

He caught him before he could fall, the prince’s skin burning with cold against his hands. 

Junmyeon’s eyes were distant as he looked out towards the golden tree, his hand falling from his lips.

“It is beginning,” he murmured, so softly that Yifan hardly heard him. Yifan could only watch as a single tear rolled down Yixing’s face, his body near collapsing into his arms.

 

-

 

The days began to somber after the first leaf fell, Junmyeon’s health deteriorating with every leaf fall. He took his chambers, rarely emerging and his brothers stayed with him.

Dreary music floated from the crown prince’s chambers, accompanied by Yixing’s soft sweet voice. The singing was full of sorrow, yet Yifan could feel its magic, see the effect it had when Junmyeon’s brow smoothed over, the pain in his body waning.

Still the golden tree lived, even as leaf after leaf fell from its branches, the diseased part of the trunk growing ever larger. 

“What happens when all those leaves fall?” Yifan asked one day, when he spied Yixing standing by the window, staring out at the slowly dying tree. 

The prince pressed his hand against the glass, his face a mask of concentration. His fingers flexed and Yifan saw the gold rivers in the tree trunk surge briefly, as if in response to Yixing’s magic but with a gasp, the prince’s eyes flew open, his bicolored eyes flashing.

He reeled back but Yifan caught him before he could fall, Yixing’s chest heaving up and down from exertion. 

There was sweat beading on his brow as he shook him off, his eyes still fixed upon the tree.

“We die,” he said, resting his hand on the glass once more, his brows creasing once more. 

Gently, Yifan curled his fingers around his wrist. His skin was so cold, it burned.

“What is that tree?” he asked quietly, prying the prince’s hand from the glass. 

Yixing trembled, his cheeks flushed and pink, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. 

“Our brother,” he answered. Yifan’s heart stopped.

Before he could ask, Yixing began to speak, the words pouring out of him as if he did not know how to stop.

“We were cursed, all three of us. There was a wizard—. He cursed us and he hurt Sehun.”

Yixing trembled, his bicoloured eyes dreamy and distant, as if he was relieving the memories as he spoke them.

“He near killed Sehun with his magic and it took all of three of us to save him. That,” he pointed at the golden tree, “was all our magic could do.”

“Before his death, the wizard froze my brother’s heart. He took the magic that we put into keeping Sehun alive and twisted it for his own wicked revenge. He cursed us all to be confined to this castle, dooming the kingdom to an eternal winter.”

“And the disease on the tree?” Yifan asked, turning to stare out of the window. 

“A part of his curse. When the last leaf falls from its branches, it will take Junmyeon with it and in turn, the rest of us, for our magic is imbued within it. It is a part of us now.”

The despair on the prince’s face was devastating to watch. He put his hand to the glass once more and this time, Yifan did not stop him, watching him strain once more as if the littlest bit of his magic could make a difference.

“Brother.” 

They both turned to see Baekhyun standing in the doorway, his usually bright smile gone. He was drooping, almost folding into himself. 

“He needs you.”

Yixing took a step from the window and his knees buckled. He caught himself before Yifan could reach him, his fingers squeezing into a fist.

“Did he tell you?” Baekhyun asked as they watched Yixing disappear back into the chambers, a song already fluttering from his lips. 

Yifan nodded mutely, turning his attention back to the tree. 

“We had all but given up hope,” Baekhyun said, folding his fingers before him. 

It was strange to see him so subdued, even the golden topaz at his forehead dimmer than ever.

“Is there anything…” Yifan trailed off when Baekhyun looked towards him, his expression one of desolation. 

“Not unless you can fall in love with either one of us,” the smile playing on Baekhyun’s lips was bitter as he pulled his fur cloak tighter around his shoulders, as if he had felt a chill. He sent the tree in the courtyard one last glance before slipping out of the room, leaving Yifan to the thunderous thoughts running through his mind.

 

-

 

Junmyeon looked worse than ever when Yifan sneaked into his room, Yixing remaining vigil by his bedside. His pale skin was ashen and the streak of grey had widened, now covering half his white cheek. 

His lips were almost colourless, moving soundlessly as Yixing held his hand, singing softly to curb his pain. Yixing was almost as pale as he, expanding his magic as far as he could as he wiped the sweat from his brother’s brow. 

Yixing brought his hand up, kissing his knuckles gently before drawing the covers up, covering his brother up to his chin. He stayed by his side, until his breathing evened, before creeping out of the room, his shoulders thin and trembling in the dim light.

YIfan followed him, his heart heavy as Yixing wept, stumbling into his chambers. He slipped inside, his only intent to comfort him.

“Yifan,” teary eyes stared up at him, thin shoulders shaking as the prince struggled to regain his composure, his Adam’s apple bobbing rapidly, “why are you awake?”

“I heard you crying,” Yifan said uncertainly. He did not know if he was doing the right thing, only that something in him hurt at the hollow despair in Yixing’s eyes. 

“I only wished to ask if you were alright.”

Yixing rose to his feet, the tear streaks on his face silver in the starlight. The ruby on his forehead gleamed as he stepped towards him, his thin robes rustling softly.

Cold fingers brushed against his cheek and before he knew what was happening, there were lips against his, fingers threading into his hair.

“Please love me.” It was a desperate whisper, broken and scared against his lips and Yifan could almost taste the pain in his voice as he pulled away, shaking his head.

“No.” He had barely processed what he was saying before it was out of his mouth. The look on Yixing’s face was devastating as he drew away, fingers still curled into YIfan’s shirt. 

“I can’t. I will leave eventually. You have to find someone else.” It was a strange feeling, grappling with himself and he turned, half speaking to himself as he stumbled out of the prince’s chambers, still feeling those strange eyes b with tears on his back.

He avoided the prince like the plague, only slipping into the crown prince’s room to watch Baekhyun try to ease his pain. 

 

-

 

Junmyeon grew worse with every passing day, his skin hot to the touch. He spoke in his sleep, murmuring feverish words and calling out desperately for Sehun. The disease spread too, patches of grey on his face down to his neck, his pale hands and his shoulders.

Yifan wished he knew how to feel. 

The brothers rarely left Junmyeon now, the servants leaving food outside the room that Yifan whisked in whenever no one was looking. They barely ate, only enough to sustain themselves, to weave the magic that would keep their brother’s pain at bay.

Yixing’s eyes were red rimmed almost every day, his face wan and thin and Baekhyun had lost his golden glow, his smile nowhere to be seen. 

“It’s so cold in here,” Yifan heard him whisper once to Yixing. He had looked up, wide eyed. He had drawn his brother into his lap and held him close as he sang yet another song, Baekhyun shivering in his arms until he fell asleep.

Yixing cried once more that night, his face buried into the crook of his brother’s neck, tears soaking into Baekhyun’s robe.

He tucked Baekhyun into the chaise at Junmyeon’s feet with tears in his eyes, his arms too weak to carry him far. 

Yifan kept away, as much as he could, desperately trying to convince himself that he was no part of this strange curse, that the snowstorm would pass and that he would be free to wander the world alone once more.

Yixing’s eyes haunted him, one brown and one green, shiny with tears of desperation. He thought he knew why Yixing had invited him to the castle now. The thought of it should have made him angry, that he was only a tool to them.

The princes faded, day by day, Yixing’s skin turning nearly translucent with grief. Junmyeon was deep in the throes of his illness, fever seizing him. His brow was creased with pain, sweat drenching the sheets. It seemed that it was slowly passing onto his brothers as well, as Yixing’s strength waned by the day, until he could not sing another word.

-

Yifan did not know just how dire the situation was until one night, he slipped into the prince’s room and found Yixing collapsed onto the floor, Junmyeon convulsing on the bed.

“Your Highness!” 

Yifan bolted, falling to his knees beside Yixing. He was still conscious but only barely, shivering furiously as the cold of the marble seeped through his robes. 

Yifan’s heart nearly stopped when he stilled as he lifted him, dead weight in his arms. The prince’s head lolled against his chest as he set him onto the nearest chaise, the drapes leading to the antechamber parting as Baekhyun rushed in, a flute in hand.

“Brother!” he cried, resting a hand against Yixing’s cheek, but there was no time to fret over him, for Junmyeon was keening high in his throat, twisting and writhing on the bed in agony. 

The grey patch on his cheek had grown, fully covering the right half of his face, streaking down his neck past his shoulders, visible through the thin robes that his brothers had put on him.

Baekhyun put his flute to his lips and played, the hardest Yifan had ever heard him, his eyes glistening with tears. 

Yixing was stirring, as Junmyeon convulsed, once and then twice before falling still. Yifan let out a yelp of surprise when Baekhyun lowered his flute, pitching forward and nearly falling onto the bed before catching himself.

“I’m alright,” he said before Yifan could ask, his fingers curling into the bedsheets. 

Junmyeon’s pulse jumped against Yifan’s fingers, the skin cold against his fingertips before he wrapped an arm around Baekhyun’s waist, guiding him over to the chaise at the foot of the bed where Yixing was draped over.

The second prince’s lips parted when Yifan shifted him aside to make room for Baekhyun, who was breathing heavily, clutching his flute to his chest.

His eyes fluttered open.

Yifan froze when he caught him in his gaze.

He could not move or perhaps some part of him did not want to as Yixing tangled his fingers into his hair, leaning up to press their lips together.

Baekhyun uttered a gasp but the rest of the world was drowned out by a crack in Yifan’s ears, so loud that he jerked away, swearing.

“Did you hear that?” Yifan asked, covering his ears. Yixing’s eyes were glazed, his gaze dreamy as he steadied himself.

“Hear what?” Baekhyun was looking between the two of them, completely bewildered.

“I thought—” 

Yifan was going insane. His chest hurt, as if someone had taken a knife and cleaved into it.

He turned to Yixing, whose eyes were clearing up. His face was still too pale, almost translucent enough for the blue veins on his skin to shine through.

Baekhyun put his flute to his lips and played the tiniest strain of a melody before it dropped and fell flat.

But it was enough, just enough to rouse Yixing the tiniest bit.

“I— what happened?” Yixing asked and before either of them could say a word, was rising to his feet, looking towards the bed. 

He wobbled, a gasp ripping out his throat in surprise.

 Yifan caught him, a hand curled around his too thin wrist. 

“Junmyeon, my brother— why can’t I feel him?!” 

Yixing panicked, his mismatched eyes wide as he reached towards the bed. 

At that, Baekhyun sat up, his flute rolling off his lap as he scrambled to his feet. Yifan found himself with two terrified and wobbly princes in his arms. 

“Easy, easy,” he tried to soothe them, wincing when Yixing tried to wrench himself free from his grasp, banging his thigh against the bedpost. 

The prince did not seem to notice the pain, his world seeming to have narrowed down to the still figure on the bed.

Yifan barely managed to get him around to the bedside before he flung himself onto the mattress, crawling next to his brother. 

Baekhyun made a distressed sound, curling into Yifan’s arms. 

Yixing pressed two fingers against Junmyeon’s throat, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

“He’s alive,” Yifan said, carefully lifting the younger prince into his arms. 

Baekhyun was too tired to even protest, as he merely curled into his chest, hooking his arms around Yifan’s neck with a sigh of relief.

“I can’t feel him,” Yixing murmured, even as he cupped his brother’s cheek. 

Junmyeon’s brows had smoothed over, and he did not look like he was in pain anymore. He was still breathing, his chest rising up and down as Yixing tugged the covers over him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead.

“He’s not hurting anymore,” Baekhyun whispered softly and Yixing turned to him, his eyes filled with fear and worry. 

“The tree— Sehun, is it still…” 

Before Yifan could stop him, he was pushing himself off the bed, wobbly as a newborn fawn. With Baekhyun in his arms, he would not be able to catch him if he fell. 

“Wait, Your Highness!” 

Thankfully, he made it to the window without falling.

YIfan did not think his face could get any paler, but it did, the very moment he looked out of the window. 

Setting Baekhyun down upon the chaise, the soldier went to the window. 

“Oh no,” he whispered.

A third of the tree’s leaves had fallen, the snowy ground covered with golden flakes. Even the rivers of magic flowing within the trunk did not glow as brightly as it used to. The diseased part of the trunks was neatly split, the branches and roots dark grey and dull.

“I think,” he said very slowly when Yixing made a pained sound in his throat, “that we all need to go to bed. You’re both too exhausted to do much anymore.”

He did not allow any protests, starting with Yixing. 

The second prince seemed too exhausted to fight much as he swept him off his feet, cradling him to his chest. 

His skin was cold through the thin robes he wore and even through Yifan’s tunic. Yifan shuddered as hot breath puffed over his skin, Yixing pressing his lips to his neck as he carried him to his own chambers. 

He heard the crack again, albeit a little softer this time, as he set the prince down, Yixing already half asleep in his arms. 

“Stay.”

Fingers curled around his wrist just as he was about to leave and he stopped, turning back to look down at the man curled up on the bed.

He looked so small and pitiful that Yifan’s heart clenched and before he knew what he was doing, he was sinking to one knee by Yixing’s bed, gripping his hand.

“I’ll put your brother to bed and be right back, alright?” he asked and Yixing nodded, slowly unclenching his fingers from his wrist. His eyes stared pleadingly even as Yifan left the room, starkly reminded of the last time he had turned his back on the prince. 

Baekhyun was nearly asleep by the time he curled his arms around him, his flute clutched loosely in his hands. He opened a single eye, looking hopeful when Yifan picked him up. 

He was practically weightless, just like Yixing had been, so worn and thin by his brother’s illness.

Yifan had a sinking feeling in his gut when he realised that Yixing would be the next one to fall, if the tree took them by age. 

“Save us,” Baekhyun whispered as he lifted him, pillowing his head against his shoulder. His lips were so close to his ear that Yifan shuddered once more. 

“Please, save us.” 

The plea in the prince’s tone made his heart ache, a foreign sensation. Yifan had not felt that in centuries of living alone. 

Baekhyun was already asleep by the time he tucked him into bed, gently prying the flute from the prince’s fingers. 

Yifan set the instrument down by the bed, almost ready to return to his own chambers when he remembered his promise to the prince.

His feet found its way back to Yixing’s chambers, where the prince was still curled up in the same position when he had left, staring lifelessly at the door. 

His eyes flickered however when Yifan entered, surprise touching his features.

“You came back.” 

Yifan hated how surprised he sounded.

He felt as if he had failed somehow.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” He knelt again, taking the prince’s hand in his. 

Yixing smiled faintly before he gasped, his beautiful features twisting in pain. 

“What’s wrong?” Yifan moved closer when Yixing yanked his hand free as if he had been burned, fingers clenching into the covers. He arched on the bed, a scream tearing from his throat and Yifan could only watch in horror as the skin on his left cheek began to change colour, turning into the same dull grey that covered his brother’s face.

Yixing forced himself into a sitting position, gasping and panting as he raised a hand to his cheek. 

“We’re running out of time,” he cried, cradling his face. 

Yifan did not know what he was doing when he touched him, thumbing over the grey splash against white skin. 

“We’ll figure something out,” he said, “find someone. I’ll go out in this storm. Perhaps Baekhyun’s faerie prince…” 

He trailed off at the haunted look in Yixing’s eyes.

“Baekhyun’s faerie prince is from the Summer Court. He would not survive here. If he could, we would have tried.”

“But he loved him, didn’t he?”

“So much,” Yixing’s eyes filled with tears, “it broke Baekhyun’s heart to send him away.”

“Even if he tried, he’d never be able to enter our realm. The curse is already in motion. No one should have been able to pass through the barrier.”

Yifan did not know what to say. He did not have the words to comfort the prince as silver tears slid down his face, carving tear tracks on his skin.

“Go to sleep,” he tried, “everything will look brighter in the morning.”

“Will you sleep with me?” 

Yixing’s eyes were shining as he reached over to grab Yifan’s wrist. He was still heartbreakingly beautiful, even gaunt and thin and with his skin so pale it was almost translucent. 

With the moonlight streaming in through the windows, he looked almost ethereal in his pale starlight coloured robes, sheer enough to see his skin through.

Yifan swallowed. 

There were strange emotions warring inside of him, emotions that he had not felt in centuries and he was confused as to why they would surface now. 

“I’m not sure…” He trailed off when Yixing looked up at him, fingers gripping his wrist tightly.

“Please,” he whispered.

Something tugged at Yifan’s heartstrings, strings that he did not know still existed, and he found himself climbing into bed beside the prince. 

Yixing curled up on the bed, close enough that Yifan could feel his presence. His skin crawled at the proximity but it was not a bad feeling, merely a foreign one. He had not slept with anyone in the same bed for so long that he had forgotten what it felt like.

Within moments, the prince was asleep, his breathing evening and the crease in his brows smoothing. 

But Yifan lay awake, studying the man beside him. 

He was unsure of what was happening to him. 

For so long, he had kept himself away from other beings, only interacting out of necessity and never, ever forming attachments. Lying in bed with Yixing, he could feel the memories rushing back. He could remember the last times he had slept beside someone, a body to keep him warm. 

She had been a lovely girl, a siren with a beautiful voice. She had been beautiful too and so genuine that Yifan was taken in at once. He had loved her, with so much of his heart that when she shattered it, she had shattered him.

It had taken years for him to put himself back together again. The frozen heart helped, a blessing under the disguise of a curse. 

The very last time he had laid with someone, it had been with a half fae. He was lovely, stunning and smoldering and Yifan remembered how much it had hurt to love him. He would have given him the world. 

Things fell apart and as a parting gift, the half fae, half witch man spoke what he thought was a curse. A curse that Yifan thanked him for. 

He had become so unaccustomed to feelings that everything he did feel now was a tidal wave. 

Somewhere along the way, he had come to care for these brothers and their fate. 

No matter how much he tried to deny them, he found that he could not bear to see any of them go. They had suffered so much, out of love for their youngest brother, the lost brother, that he doubted they could survive another blow. 

With so many thoughts whirling about in his mind, it was a miracle that he could fall asleep.

But sleep he did and when he awoke, it was to an empty bed and a servant scuttling out of the room, wide eyed with shock.

He rose quickly, knowing exactly where he would find Yixing, the prince curled up beside his brother’s bed.

“How are you faring?” Yixing looked up when he entered, his mismatched eyes still pools of sorrow. He his brother’s cheek gently, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. 

“I don’t know how much time we have left or how— how we can break this curse.”

He raised his free hand to his own cheek, running his fingers over the grey patch. 

One look over to the golden tree told Yifan that the disease was spreading. More leaves were falling and the snowstorm did not look as if it would let up any time soon.

“Yifan.” 

Yifan turned to see Yixing staring at him, despair and longing filling his eyes and he took a step away.

“You know I can’t,” he said gently, even though deep inside his heart, he was unsure if the words were true. 

“You can if only you’d let me,” Yixing replied, rising to his feet. He stormed over to Yifan and before he knew what was happening, the prince had his fingers curled around his face and was kissing him once more. 

A deafening crack snapped through his ears and pain exploded through his chest. He jerked, stumbling back, wide eyed in shock, clutching at his heart.

“You heard that didn’t you?” he asked. Pain was pulsing through his chest and his blood felt hot, as if there was a flame burning inside of him.

“Heard what?” Yixing was staring up at him as if he had grown another head.

“Something breaking,” Yifan said desperately. He could not have been the only one to have heard the sound, it had been so loud in his ears.

Yixing went silent, his eyes flickering. His hand was cold and Yifan yelped when he peeled aside his tunic, pressing his palm to his chest, over his heart. 

For a beat, they stood there, Yifan panting from the pain. Beads of sweat were trickling down from his brow.

“There’s nothing,” he said and winced, flexing his fingers as if the motion had made them stiff.

Yifan swore under his breath. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what was happening.

Without another word, he swung away, striding out of the room before Yixing could protest. He hated that he could still feel his eyes burning into his back as he walked blindly through the halls, unsure of where he was going.

The air felt thick and his chest hurt with every breath. His skin felt too tight for him and he did not know where he was walking, only that he needed some air, needed to breathe. 

As if his feet knew his thoughts, he found himself pulling open the great oak doors in the throne room and walking out, straight out into the winter storm without a cloak on his shoulders. 

The tree still gleamed in the middle of all the white and the wind cut like knives into his flesh. 

Yifan could not bring himself to walk away. 

He walked right up to the tree, resting his hand upon the diseased trunk. 

It was cold, even colder than the air around him, which he did not think was possible and it burned, stealing the very breath from his lungs.

He gripped the rough bark, shivering violently as the wind whipped his hair around him, whistling in his ears, sharp and piercing. 

It was a desolate landscape, white for as far as he could see. 

The snow stung his eyes and he blinked them away, pressing his fingers harder against the trunk of the tree.

“Why am I here?” he gasped, his lips numb from the cold. His fingers felt as if they were about to fall off, frozen stiff.

“Why did you bring me here?” he cried once more, and through the blinding white snow, he thought he saw the tree glow a little brighter.  

Something golden caught his attention and he pulled his hand away from the tree, turning to see the slender figure of a young man.

No, it was a boy, sixteen centuries at most with a smiling face and gold streaked hair, just like Baekhyun’s. 

He was standing in the snow only in a thin tunic, unbothered by the freezing winds. His eyes were the deepest of blues, staring right at him. 

Yifan gaped. 

“Hello?” he called and the boy laughed,musical and bright even in the howling of the winds. Yifan watched as he broke into a run, darting around the tree. 

“Come and catch me!”

Yifan whirled around, confused and blinded by the heavily falling snow. He was freezing, his lips turning purple, his fingers stiff and painful. 

“Come and get me, brother!”

“Wait up, Sehun! I can’t run as you can!” 

The lightness in Junmyeon’s voice surprised him. Yifan had never heard Junmyeon even sound remotely this happy before.

“You’re so old now, brother! Come and get me!”

The bolt came out of nowhere, a glowing green lightning bolt that sizzled with menace and before Yifan could cry out, the boy was gone.

“Yifan!”

He spun to see Baekhyun standing before him, his dark hair covered with white. He was draped in his golden cloak, golden eyes filled with worry. 

“What are you doing out here?” Delicate hands curled around his and Yifan exhaled as warmth began to trickle back into him. He felt blood flowing through him again as Baekhyun pulled him closer, until they were nearly chest to chest. 

“You really shouldn’t be out here,” the prince said over the screaming wind. 

With a flick of his hand, the great doors flew open, a blast of heat spilling forth from the castle. He took Yifan by the hand, leading him back inside. 

Yifan moved as if on autopilot, Baekhyun settling him before the roaring hearth. He shivered as the prince shook the snow from his cloak, draping it around his shoulders. 

He leaned as close as he dared to the fire, warming his hands as his mind sought to process whatever he had just seen. 

“Are you alright?” Baekhyun’s golden eyes were full of concern as he crouched beside him, trying to warm him up. 

A servant brought over a mug of something warm, spicy and sweet smelling. Baekhyun thanked her, setting the mug into Yifan’s hands. 

“Yifan?” 

Yifan’s eyes lit upon the golden ring that Baekhyun wore, completely out of place among all the other silver jewelry that his brothers owned. He shook his head, carefully setting the mug onto the rug beside him.

“Tell me about Sehun,” he said hoarsely, his lips numb from the cold. Baekhyun’s face scrunched up and he sat down heavily, crossing his legs. 

“The tree showed you something, didn’t it?” he asked, taking up Yifan’s hand. Yifan could only nod as Baekhyun waved his hand in the air, conjuring an image out of thin air, a face, the very face of the man Yifan had just seen running around the tree.

“Sehun was the youngest of us. He shined the brightest, among us all. He made people happy with just a smile or a laugh.” Baekhyun cocked his head, his eyes glittering as he stared at the portrait of the young man floating in midair.

“We all adored him. Junmyeon especially. And Sehun loved him back. They had an incredible connection. From the moment Mother laid Sehun in Junmyeon’s arms, Sehun would quiet. When no one could get him to eat or falling asleep without fussing, Junmyeon could.”

“That’s really sweet,” Yifan said softly. He could see it somehow, the iciness of the crown prince tempered by Sehun’s warmth. Baekhyun smiled, his eyes far away, as if he was not really there.

“It was. I wish that was where it all ended.”

Yifan nodded, folding his legs beneath him.

“The year that Sehun came of age, a wizard came from far across the lands. He had heard of Junmyeon’s beauty and wished to marry him.”

Yifan in a breath. Baekhyun glanced at him, his lips curling a little.

“But Junmyeon refused, because Sehun disliked the man. We all did. He was much, much older than Junmyeon was at the time and only wished to possess him. He was nothing like Jong— like someone I met.”

Yifan noted the falter with interest, watching Baekhyun twist the golden ring on his finger.

“The wizard was enraged at being rebuffed, of course.”

The prince’s eyes darkened and his fingers curled into fists.

“He wanted revenge. Why he chose to take it out on a child, we will never know.” Baekhyun’s tone was hard, when he glanced in Yifan’s direction.

“We were outside, all three of us. Sehun ran off on his own, wanting to play catch. Junmyeon went after him first, as he always did. Xing and I took our time. Until—”

Baekhyun chewed on his lip, swallowing heavily. His eyes were misty, his gaze far away as if he was seeing that day all over again. 

Yifan wondered if he knew that he was crying, silver tears rolling down his face like opals. 

“When we got there, Sehun was already hurt beyond help. The wizard laughed at us,” Baekhyun scoffed, squeezing his fists so hard that the image flickered.

“Junmyeon— Junmyeon was so angry.”

Baekhyun shivered, as if he was remembering his brother’s grief. 

“We tried, all three of us. We pooled our magic into Sehun’s body, hoping and praying that we could do enough, that he would live.”

The image in the air warped, changing into the portrait of the young man Yifan had seen earlier, bright eyed and laughing. 

“The tree is all that’s left.” Baekhyun paused. He laughed a little, brushing his thumb over the corners of his eyes.

As if reacting to his emotions, the image in the air flickered and changed, reflecting a young Sehun curled up on the ground, his brothers gathered around him.

The body of the prince rose into the air, melting into shimmering gold dust. The gold dust congealed and in his place, stood a tree with golden leaves, the same colour as Sehun’s hair. 

Yifan’s heart broke a little more for them. 

The prince had been so young, so bright and full of life.

It was so unfair. 

Baekhyun a hand through the image and Sehun’s face came back, still bright and smiling as if he were still alive.

Sehun’s smile was infectious and Yifan could see how he could have won everyone’s favour. If anyone could have softened Junmyeon’s ice cold heart, it would be him.

“Junmyeon loved him the most out of all of us,” Baekhyun said softly. His face was tear stained as he touched the image so gently and tenderly, as if it were Sehun himself. 

The image changed beneath his fingertips and Yifan could see Junmyeon standing before the tree. Even in a moving image, his grief was palpable, his lips open in a silent scream as he blasted a dark blue bolt in the direction of a swiftly moving shadow.

There were tears streaming down his face as he spun, storms clouds rolling in above his head. A crack of red sent the shadow stumbling into view and Yifan saw Yixing, hanging at the very edge, red magic glowing from his fingertips.

His face was a mask of agony, grief and rage, his brows pinched tightly as he fought to hold down the shadowy shape.

The wizard was an old fae, the tips of his ears very visible beneath his silver gray hair. His lips were pulled back into a grimace but Yifan could read the glee in his face even as Junmyeon lunged, unleashing his fury in a brilliant blue bolt that seared across the wizard’s chest.

Even as he crumpled to the ground, Yifan could see his lips moving, eerie green light fluttering from his hands to gather in the tree’s trunk. 

A blast of wind sent the man stumbling backwards and just before the image turned back into Sehun’s smiling face, Yifan saw a tiny ball of red light fly toward the emerald curse.

“The storm, was it…” He trailed off Baekhyun looked away.

“Junmyeon’s doing,” he murmured. The pain in his tone was tangible, the loss of his little brother carving a hole in his heart that no one else could have filled. 

Yifan had not known just how powerful Junmyeon was, that his wrath when incurred, was enough to trigger a snowstorm.

“Our seasons disappeared,” Baekhyun said, his eyes still fixed upon Sehun’s face. Briefly, Yifan wondered how often had he conjured up his brother’s image just to see him again. There were no portraits around the castle, none of even themselves.

How great their grief had to be if they removed every portrait in the castle, leaving only the tree and their memories to survive him. 

“We spent years channeling our magic into the tree just to restore them. When we worked magic on the tree,” Baekhyun’s tone turned wistful, as if he was somewhere far away. “It was as if Sehun was back here with us again, even just for a little bit.”

He looked towards the door, even though they could not see the tree from their place and chewed his lip, snapped out of his memories.

“Now the tree is dying and the kingdom will be doomed if the curse is not broken in time.”

Yifan watched him twist his ring a little longer. He was obviously fond of the ring and he caught him tracing it often, his gaze far off as if he was thinking about something else.

“You had a lover once. Before this storm happened, you had a lover. What happened to him?” He tried, changing the subject.

Baekhyun’s face crumpled and he cradled his hand close to him as if it was something precious. 

For a long moment, he did not speak, his head bowed as he twisted his ring back and forth as if he was deliberating.

“He was a prince. From the Summer Court,” he began, his tone a little dreamy. “We met when we were Sehun’s age. He was here as a guest, only due to stay for a couple of weeks, to enjoy the cooler climate that we are known to have. But we fell in love and he stayed for so much longer than that.” 

Baekhyun paused, turning his eyes up to the ceiling. He sniffled and swallowed, dipping his head to look down at the golden ring.

“He made me a promise and I— made him break it.” The words were choked up as Baekhyun stared into the fire, his eyes unseeing.

“I had to send him away, on a pretense so that he would not worry about me. Before the storm came, I made him go home. He wanted Junmyeon’s blessing. He asked for my— my hand in marriage.”

He held up his hand, the ring glinting in the firelight.  

“I sent him home and the storm came swiftly after, the curse keeping anyone from entering our borders. He must have forgotten me by now. It’s been so long.”

Yifan did not know what to say. There would be no chance of Baekhyun ever seeing his beloved again. 

Baekhyun blinked and a smile slid back on his face, so blatantly false that it hurt.

“But that’s a good thing. I would hate for him to spend the rest of his life waiting for me.”

Yifan caught a glimpse of the prince’s face before Baekhyun slashed his hand through the floating image in the air. He was a very handsome man, with pretty, curly lips and golden hair.

He could see why Baekhyun was smitten. 

“Baekhyun, I—” 

They were interrupted by Yixing appearing the room, his face distraught. 

Yifan could not suppress the gasp that ripped out of his throat at the sight of the second prince. 

The grey had spread much farther and faster this time. Yixing’s entire cheek was covered in it now, when it had only been a small patch in the morning.

“Help,” Yixing whimpered, extending his hand. 

It hung stiffly, as if it had been frozen into place. When Yifan took his hand in his, the skin did not feel like skin anymore. 

It was like cold marble, like the pillars that held up the castle’s roof. 

“What’s happening? How did this happen?” Baekhyun fretted, running his fingers over Yixing’s palm as if that would help revive the dead hand. 

“I…I don’t know. It was alright this morning,” Yixing stuttered, his eyes flicking up to meet Yifan’s. 

Yifan thumbed over the grey patch on his cheek and Yixing flinched.

It felt like stone, too.

Determination filled him when Yixing drew away, covering his face as if ashamed. Thoughts of his own delusion flew out of his mind as he took a step closer to the prince.

“We’ll fix this,” he said, catching up Yixing’s hand. 

Yixing’s expression as one of surprise when he pressed a kiss against the grey skin 

Quite frankly, Yifan was surprised too. 

He had not made a gesture like that since…

Yifan swallowed, a strange suspicion nagging at his mind.

“You can fix this,” Yixing said stiffly. His eyes were burning into him. Yifan felt as if he was being torn apart inside out.

Half of him wanted to run, but the other half, the one that might be beginning to defrost, wanted to stay.

He could see something with Yixing, the prince with the voice of a songbird, eyes that shined like the stars.

He could stay and break the curse.

He could have a place to call home, one he had not for the past centuries.

“I need some time,” he murmured, sliding his fingers into Yixing’s hair. He could have more, he could free them, all of them if only he allowed himself to. 

Baekhyun could see his beloved again. Junmyeon might wake up and Yixing.

Yixing could be his.

He shook his head, trying to wipe the thoughts from his mind. 

A crack echoed inside his head and he blinked when his eyes opened. He had not even noticed that he had closed them.

The prince looked up at him with a sad smile, resting his hand over Yifan’s heart once more. Yifan could hear Baekhyun shuffling away but the rest of the world was sliding away as he looked into Yixing’s eyes.

“Do you know why I cried, Yifan? The night you told me about your heart?” 

Yifan shook his head before he realised that it was a rhetorical question. Yixing’s smile stole his breath away.

“I feared that you would never love me. The very thought crushed me inside. The curse cannot be fooled by illusions of love. I cannot force you to love me. I can only try and bare my soul in the hopes that I could thaw the ice in your chest. Please love me,” he murmured. 

Yifan shuddered, a hand curving around the prince’s slender waist.

“I can— I can try,” he breathed, in a sharp breath when Yixing leaned up, delicate fingers brushing against his jaw.

“That’s all I need,” the prince whispered, so close that Yifan felt his breath brush over his lips.

Unlike the first three times, Yifan found himself chasing after him, desire overcoming everything else.

This one actually meant something to him.

Yixing gasped when they parted. The hand on Yifan’s chest seemed to get colder, so cold it burned against his skin.

He gritted his teeth, ducking his head to tuck a loose strand of Yixing’s hair away. 

“I can do this,” he murmured and Yixing looked up at him with those mismatched eyes, so full of hope once more. 

They tried.

Days passed as Yifan tried to accustom himself to feeling again. The cracks in his head and the pain in his chest were all real, he was not delusional. 

He was afraid, of course he was. 

The last man he loved had broken his heart, shattered it into a million pieces before cursing him. But Yixing was different. 

Yifan had to convince himself that he was different. 

There was very little one could do in terms of courting when all they were able to do was to stay indoors, but they made the best of the situation. 

Yixing arranged small intimate dinners when he was not sitting in Junmyeon’s room watching over him. His stone hand made it difficult for him to eat and often, Yifan had to end up feeding him. 

“Perhaps this is a small consolation,” Yixing teased, his smile a little brighter as Yifan speared a slice of meat onto his fork, offering it to him.

He closed his teeth around it, still smiling. 

Yifan raised his eyebrows.

“It’s a consolation that I have to feed you?” 

In the candlelight, Yixing looked almost ethereal, his features soft. Yifan was sitting so close that he could see the green flecks in his one brown eye. He had not realised that he was staring until the prince nudged him gently with his stone hand, the chill causing Yifan to jump.

Yixing giggled and the sound was musical to his ears.

He smiled a little and speared another piece of meat.

“What were you looking at?” Yixing asked after he had swallowed, reaching over to pick up his wine glass. 

The wine in the glass was so red and thick that it looked a little like blood, the honeyed fragrance wafting from it, cloyingly sweet. 

Perhaps he had had a little too much to drink because the words were out of his mouth before his mind could catch up.

“You. I was thinking about how beautiful you are.”

The flush that spread over Yixing’s cheeks was definitely not from the wine and Yifan could not resist leaning down to catch his lips in his. 

He tasted the honeyed wine on his lips, intoxicatingly sweet and something that was just uniquely Yixing.

“What was that for?” The smile on the prince’s face was amused, the soft flush over his cheeks deepening as Yifan thumbed over his cheekbone.

“I just wanted to.” 

Yixing seemed to like that, sliding off his seat and into Yifan’s lap.

The fork clinked on the plate when he set it down blindly, reaching to curl his hand around Yixing’s slender waist. 

He gasped when the prince kissed him once more, a stone hand pressing against his rib cage and the other one warm against his cheek. 

“I’m so in love with you,” the words were soft, whispered against his lips and Yifan froze a little. 

Yixing’s expression was a little sad but kind as he drew away, fingers trailing over his jaw tenderly.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it yet.”

Those words were gentle, calm, but Yifan could taste the desperation growing with every kiss and every touch as the days passed.

He had hoped that with his declaration to try to love Yixing, the curse would slow its progress and give him more time. Yifan was sure now that his role in this fairytale was not completely accidental. 

There was no way that he should have been able to cross the borders. 

The curse was already in motion when he set foot across the border but he still found his way in, and into their lives.

 

-

 

“You can play too,” Yixing rarely left his brother’s side, but on the one time he did, was when Yifan took him into the library, draped in his burgundy fur cloak to watch as he played. 

It had been a long while since Yifan had touched an instrument.

He was rather rusty, but the music flowed from his fingertips slowly, though a bit jagged around the edges and he could almost see the prince brighten.

It was a simple lullaby, one that he remembered being played to as a child.

Yixing seemed to enjoy it, humming along as Yifan sang a little. His voice was nowhere near as musical as Yixing or Baekhyun’s but Yixing reveled in it, singing little harmonies whenever he could fit them in.

“You have a lovely voice,” he murmured gently when the song was over, Yifan rising to his hand through the prince’s hair. 

He was tired, Yifan could tell, his body swaying ever so slightly.

“Yours is lovelier,” he answered, carefully sliding an arm around the prince’s waist. 

“You’re a flatterer,” Yixing teased before he yawned, cuddling into his side. 

Yifan smiled to himself as he led the prince back to his chambers, tucking him in. 

The stone was cold against his lips when he kissed his cheek, climbing into bed beside him.

He was again, starkly reminded of the passing time.

-

Yixing still sang, when he had the strength to, with Baekhyun accompanying him on his flute or his pianoforte, trying desperately to keep the mood light even as the tree shed more of its leaves. 

Occasionally when Yifan looked outside towards the tree, he would see the golden figure once more, still running around the tree. Sometimes, he thought he could even hear his laughter, pealing through the air as he darted away.

The disease spread on Yixing like it spread on the tree, painful and freezing cold. 

Many nights, Yixing would cuddle under his blankets and still shiver even when Yifan stoked the fire in his room to the warmest it would go. 

The pain would keep him awake, seemingly worst that when the bloom had spread on Junmyeon. 

Yifan figured that it was the curse growing ever stronger, causing more damage and pain as it passed on from one brother to the next. 

It crushed him inside to hear Yixing piteously from beneath his blankets as the disease devoured him, turning patches of skin to stone.

“Oh Yixing,” he cried one night when it was especially bad. The prince was huddled up in his arms, retching from the pain. He could not keep food down and his skin was too warm, not cold like it had been for the past days.

Yifan Yixing’s sweat damp hair away from his forehead, cradling him against his body to try and keep him warm. 

It was all for naught as the prince continued to shiver and whimper.

Even Baekhyun’s magic was no help, seeming to be growing weaker as the days passed. They migrated to Junmyeon’s bedroom, so that Baekhyun could watch over them both at once. 

Yifan moved the chaise to the bedside so that he could hold Yixing when the pain got too much, Yixing delirious with fever.

When he was lucid, Yixing would whisper sweet nothings into his ears while Yifan tried to get him to nourish himself to keep his strength up. 

Baekhyun also seemed to be waning as his tunes grew shorter and softer, until he was too exhausted to play much, often just curling up at the feet of the bed and reading to them with his flute tucked under his arm. 

But every night, before Yifan put Yixing to bed beside his brother, the prince would whisper the three words into his ear, his eyes pleading and hoping that Yifan would say them back. 

No matter how much it pained him to see Yixing in agony, Yifan found the words remained stuck in his throat. The pain in Yixing’s eyes every night haunted him when he closed his eyes. 

Yixing grew weaker and weaker with every passing day, just like Junmyeon had before him and the golden tree shed its leaves, the ground at its roots almost entirely covered with golden flakes.

“Yifan.” They were alone that day, having chased Baekhyun into his bed to rest, even for a little while.

Yixing had his face in his hands, the stone one freezing cold against Yifan’s skin. He leaned his forehead against Yifan’s, sealing their lips together in a desperate kiss.

“Do you love me?” he breathed, shuddering when Yifan kissed him back, their noses brushing.

“I—” Yifan stuttered and Yixing stilled, pulling away to look into his eyes.

Yifan wished he could look away, but Yixing’s eyes were mesmerizing. 

He thumbed over the grey patch on his cheekbone, leaning forward to try and steal another kiss.

Yixing stopped him.

“Yifan?” 

“I need more time, Yixing,” Yifan murmured, his fingers through the prince’s hair.

“We don’t have more time,” Yixing pressed, gripping his hand so tightly that he left crescents in his skin.

“I’ve told you my past, Yixing. Don’t push me,” Yifan growled, his tone warning. He was afraid and still wary. Old wounds did not heal easily. How could he forget so easily that he had been hurt before?

He cared about Yixing and that was about as far as he could think of right this moment.

The world seemed to be closing in around him, dragging the air from his lungs as he rose from the bed, tugging his arm free from Yixing’s clutches.

Yixing stared at him with wide eyes. “Yifan, please, where are you going?”

“I need to breathe.” Yifan stepped out of the room, burying his face into his hands as he wandered down the halls.

He ignored Yixing’s cry for him to return, only vaguely registering him saying something that might have been of mild importance before walking out of the room.

Yifan avoided Yixing for the next few days once again. He knew it was cowardly and selfish, but he was not sure he could endure anymore of his lover’s pained smiles and hopeless glances. 

He spent the days wandering the halls, hating that his heart ached for him to return to Yixing’s side and beg forgiveness. Yixing had to be distraught by his behavior and most likely blaming himself for Yifan’s actions.

At the very heart of all these, Yifan remembered the tree.

It had given him answers before, or revelations that helped him. Perhaps it could do so again.

Yifan was in his mind long enough to remember to stop by his chambers to fetch a cloak before heading for the great hall once more.

He had to go to the tree. Perhaps it would give him more answers.

But said tree was dying. It looked worse than the last time he had seen it. 

Its branches were drooping, scattering golden leaves all over the ground. The disease had spread up to the tips of the branches, with only a part of the tree left still unscarred.

It was still freezing cold when Yifan touched it, desperate for some form of answer. He knew what he had to do, what he had to say, but he was not sure if he meant it. 

If he said it, would the curse break? Or would it sense that perhaps he was unsure and keep on going?

Yixing was already in such bad shape that Yifan did not want to imagine what Baekhyun would be like if the curse passed onto him. And there was no telling if the storm would pass if the curse remained unbroken, only that the princes would die.

His heart throbbed furiously at the thought of any of them dying. 

Swearing under his breath, he pressed his hand against the tree, once more, hoping that his little bit of magic would be able help it a little and give them more time. 

Fabric swishing caught his attention and he turned to see Baekhyun, once more draped in his golden cloak, his face wan and pale. His fingers were clenched around his flute, as if he had been playing in the middle of the snowstorm and his hair was dusted with white.

“You ran away from my brother again.” 

It was not a question but a statement. 

Yifan felt his cheeks flush and was ready to babble an excuse but Baekhyun cut him off before he could say anything.

“You’re a coward,” he hissed, his tone coated with poison. “I know your past, Yifan. I can see it in your once frozen heart, the way you avoid my brother’s gaze sometimes,” Baekhyun snapped, yanking his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “I can see it in the way you refuse to put your feelings into words.” 

Yifan bowed his head in shame, his protests steamrolled over by the furious prince.

“I don’t know who hurt you so badly that you can’t let your guard down but has my brother not proved time and again that he loves you more than anything?”

That hurt. It crushed against Yifan’s chest like a vice and he swallowed.

“You’re wrong,” Yifan replied hoarsely. His throat was dry, his mind whirling. He had no idea what was happening to him.

“He loves all of you more than anything.” He stumbled over his words, the cold biting through his bones like a rabid wolf. 

“I’m a tool. I was a tool from the moment I stepped into your kingdom. A means to an end.” Yifan drooped, as if it had taken all the strength from him to say the words aloud.

Baekhyun’s lips parted as if he was about to say something, his brows creasing but Yifan crashed right over him, his emotions pouring out like a tidal wave.

“How can I love him truly, knowing that my love is what he needs to survive?” He had never spoken this much, of such length of his feelings that it all came rushing out, all his insecurities laid bare. “How can I love him when he begs me to tell him I love him just for all this to end?”

Yifan gestured all around them.

Baekhyun’s cheeks flushed, his voice a snarl.

“How dare you.”

“Yixing’s love is true and has always been true. He loves so deeply and it kills him inside every time you walk away.” 

Yifan flinched, his fingers balling into fists. He knew that. 

He could see it on his beloved’s face every time he chose to walk away.

“He knows you wish to be free of this place, which is why he hasn’t told you that he’s taken on the full brunt of the curse!” Baekhyun was shouting now, the wind roaring around him. His golden cloak was whipping back and forth, his hair blowing in his face. 

“Even if you break it, we may still lo- lose him anyway! He doesn’t wish to bind you to this place!”

Yifan froze.

“What are you saying?” He asked, feeling as if every muscle in his body was frozen in place. Whether by the cold or the fear that was pooling in his heart, he did not know. 

Baekhyun deflated, the anger and fury gone from his voice. 

“He’s going to die,” he whispered, his flute. He looked so small, shrouded in his enormous coat and so helpless.

“H… He—” Baekhyun choked on his words, a wail tearing free from his throat and Yifan found himself with an armful of a weeping prince, sobbing as if his heart would break. Perhaps his heart was already broken.

“Baekhyun, Baekhyun!” Yifan held him clumsily, lifting a hand to his gold streaked hair. His heart was beating too fast and he felt as if his lungs were being crushed. It was too hard to breathe. “What did he do?” he asked urgently. 

“He’s dying!” Baekhyun wailed and Yifan clutched him to his chest, the world beginning to spin on its axis around him. The floor seemed to be slipping from beneath him and he had to reach out a hand to grip at the dying tree for support.

“How?” he squeezed out as Baekhyun buried his face into his hands, tears trickling between his fingers like a broken string of pearls.

“The spell, we didn’t notice— he—” the prince choked, trembling violently. The wind was picking up, whistling past their ears and it was difficult to pick up the stuttered words.

“He changed it,” Baekhyun gasped, clawing at his chest. Yifan could feel his nails digging into his flesh through his clothes, his desperation showing.

“Save him please,” he begged, “don’t let him die.”

A chill rippled through him and he had to hold himself back from shoving Baekhyun away and racing up in search of Yixing. 

“Where is he?” he asked instead, steadying the prince when he swayed as if he would break in the strong winds.

“With Junmyeon,” Baekhyun rasped.

Yifan took off, breaking into a run. His heart was pounding in his ears as he ran, stumbling and cursing when he nearly collided into a wall. 

Yixing sat singing softly to his brother. He looked up in alarm when Yifan crashed into the room, panting and heaving. 

“What did you do?” Yifan marched up to him, his voice hoarse and angry. He did not mean to sound angry, but the pain and terror that overtook him carried him away from all rationality.

Yixing paused, his expression twisting. He Junmyeon’s cheek tenderly, avoiding Yifan’s eyes.

“Come here,” he murmured. Yifan obeyed, his body trembling. 

The sun was rising in the horizon, spilling what little light it could through the thick, dense clouds. 

As he walked across the room, Yifan could see the tree from the corner of his eye, shimmering faintly in the distance.

“I did it for my brothers,” Yixing whispered when he went to him, kneeling on the bed. 

His expression was full of pain and sorrow as he took up Yifan’s hand, kissing his knuckles. 

“I could not reverse the curse, only alter it. The curse dies with me,” his voice cracked and Yifan shuddered.

“If I break it,” he said instead, forcing down the ball of angry tears in his throat, “will I still lose you?”

Yixing was silent. 

The silence was enough for overwhelm him. 

Yifan exploded. 

“How dare you! You knew, all along that I would lose you but you let me love you anyway. You let me love you just to break my heart all over again—.” Yixing was upon him before he could finish, clutching him close and kissing him fiercely. 

Yifan could not help the tears that streamed down his face, tasting salt on his lips as he kissed back, allowing himself to drown in everything that was Yixing.

He had never loved anyone like this, so deeply that he thought it might kill him to let Yixing go. 

“Yifan.” Yixing leaned their foreheads together, so close that his breath puffed against his lips. Yifan made a pitched sound in his throat and Yixing closed the gap between them.

The kiss was so sweet and chaste that it made Yifan’s eyes fill with tears.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered hoarsely, “I can’t.”

Yixing was clinging to him, fingers buried in his hair. His heart was aching and the pain, oh the pain hurt so much more at the very thought that he would lose the prince.

“I love you, Yifan and I’m sorry,” Yixing breathed against his lips, cradling his face and Yifan wept, for the first time in centuries, tears streaming down his face like opals. The tears soaked through Yixing’s shirt as the prince rocked him back and forth in his arms like a child.

“We have time,” Yifan whispered hoarsely. He knew it was a lie but he had to say it anyway.

“We have time, Yixing, please just let me try.”

“I don’t know how, Yifan.” Yixing sounded so tired, so exhausted that Yifan’s heart ached for him. 

“I don’t even know what I’ve done, only that I had to save my brothers.” He brushed a lock of hair away from Yifan’s face and Yifan kissed him like a dying man. “Even if it cost me my life.”

The sentence chilled Yifan.

“You should have told me.” Yifan’s words were a pained moan, as if the pain in his chest was tearing him apart, “you should have told me before I loved you. Before I fell for you.”

Yixing froze.

A trembling hand pushed a stray lock of Yifan’s hair behind his ear and Yixing leaned their foreheads together.

“Say that again,” he breathed and without thinking, Yifan stuttered, leaning forward to catch his lips.

Tears were still rolling down his cheeks, blurring his vision such that he could not see the prince’s face clearly anymore.

“I love you, Yixing and I can’t lose you. I can’t lose anyone anymore.”

The crack that split through his ears nearly deafened him and Yifan doubled back, crying out in shock, his hands flying to his ears.

He looked around wildly, stunned.

“Did you hear that?” he gaped. Yixing was staring right back him, wide eyed.

He shook his head.

“I hear nothing.”

Truly, there was no sound in the room, other than the quiet crackling of the dying fire. Not even the whistle of the wind that had been so constant throughout the days.

The air was dead silent, as if all sound had been from it.

For a beat, there was nothing.

Then, Yifan gasped, his eyes drawn to the gray patches cutting across Yixing’s face.

They were glowing, as golden as the tree in its original splendor.

He reached out, his hand trembling as he touched the glowing skin.

They were dissolving, creamy white skin covering the patches where the grey had been.

Yixing held up his hand and gasped too as he watched the grey stone recede from his fingertips, turning back to flesh and bone.

A healthy flush touched his cheeks and he did not look quite as sickly as he had before.

Junmyeon was stirring at their side, a soft sound issuing from his lips.

The grey half of his face was turning back to flesh, the sapphire gem at his forehead filling with fire once more.

Yixing let out a cry of delight, his lashes fluttering, turning to kneel beside his brother.

“Brother?” he whispered, as if hardly daring to believe his eyes.

Indeed, Junmyeon’s once pale lips were pink again, colour returning his wan face. He was stirring, rolling over with a sigh that had Yixing clapping his hands to his mouth.

“Oh, Junmyeon!” he cried as the grey patches on his brother’s shoulder began to dissipate, glowing golden through his thin robe.

The door slammed open and then Baekhyun was there, dressed in a thin white tunic, his golden eyes alight.

“Brother?” Baekhyun stumbled over to the bed, tripping and half falling onto his knees before Junmyeon.

“He’s waking,” Yixing said in awe, as Junmyeon’s eyes fluttered open, deep blue flitting to meet his.

Yifan exhaled softly. 

“What— What does this mean?” He asked slowly and sleepy blue eyes turned to him, freezing him in place.

Yixing reached out at the very same time Baekhyun did, both their hands trembling as Junmyeon pushed himself up, fingers clenching into the covers.

“I saw— I saw Sehun,” Junmyeon whispered softly, looking around him at his brothers. His eyes were bright, brighter than Yifan had ever seen them.

A ray of sunlight broke through the window just then, falling across the four of them. Yifan was struck dumb by the beauty of the three princes combined. There was no more grey disease to be seen, only flawless white skin and brilliantly lit eyes.

Together, the three brothers looked ethereal.

“Sehun,” Junmyeon breathed and before his brothers could stop him, he was pushing himself off the bed.

Baekhyun rose up just in time to catch him when his knees buckled, unused to bearing weight.

“Sehun, Sehun!” He guided his brother to the window and Yifan moved to follow them.

He helped Yixing out of the bed, a pale hand curled around his.

Outside, the snow storm had stopped. The air was still even though the grounds were still blanketed in white.

They watched as the tree seemed to shake itself. It was glowing brighter than ever, the grey patches on the tree completely swallowed up by brilliant gold. 

Fiery veins were thrumming through its trunk once more, the branches shivering.

Junmyeon clapped his hands to his mouth as a spiral of gold dust rose from the tree, congealing into a corporeal shape before the window

There were tears pooling in his eyes as they stared into the eyes of a very familiar man, the same one that Yifan had seen, as golden as the tree.

“Sehun,” Baekhyun breathed, fumbling, cold wintry air blowing into the room as the windows were unlatched, swinging open.

Yixing was staring too, his fingers clenching so hard around the windowsill that they had become white.

“Sehun,” Junmyeon was trembling, his thin shoulders shaking as he stared at their youngest brother.

He did not seem very dead now, as his gold streaked hair gleamed in the sun.

Yifan could see for himself now, truly how he could have captured everyone’s hearts. He seemed to light up the room with just his very presence.

Sehun held up his hand, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Sehun,” Junmyeon reached out, his tone hopeful and Sehun’s smile widened a little.

He turned, meeting each of his brothers’ eyes in turn.

Yixing made a sound when Sehun shook his head at him, a tiny smile breaking over his face.

Baekhyun was staring, wide eyed when his younger brother turned towards him, lifting his hand.

Even without words, a sense of understanding seemed to pass between the three of them.

The smiles vanished when they all came to a realization at the same time of what Sehun meant to say.

Junmyeon clasped his hands to his lips, shaking his head. His expression was pleading as Sehun shook his head once more, his smile turning a tad sorrowful.

Sehun waved, still smiling as he began to disintegrate, turning into golden flakes that blew away in the wind.

Junmyeon had his hands pressed to his lips, a heart wrenching sob tearing out of his throat as he collapsed onto his knees, tears pouring down his face like a dam inside had finally broken.

Baekhyun was crying, even as he knelt to embrace his brother, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

Yifan watched, tears pooling in his eyes as Yixing joined them, wrapping Junmyeon into their midst, all of them finally, truly mourning the loss of their youngest brother.

-

The kingdom was restored to its former glory, the sun coming out from behind the clouds to shine over the snow covered land.

All that snow would melt in time and the seasons would return.

Yifan believed him when Junmyeon had said, confidently.

He seemed much lighter now, the weight of his sorrow lifted from his chest.

It seemed that Sehun’s death had never been properly mourned, the brothers had never let him go, but they had their last moments with him.

He was in a better place, glowing with health and beautiful and they too, were finally free from the chains of grief and guilt that had kept them bound for so long.

Yifan knew he would be remembered, as Junmyeon ordered the portraits to be rehung that very morning, with tears still gleaming in his eyes.

He watched him, under the cover of his magic, as the crown prince traced fingers over the portrait of his brother’s face, hung in a quiet hall.

“I can feel you watching me,” came the soft words and Yifan sighed. He allowed the invisibility cloak to slip, rendering himself visible to the prince.

Junmyeon’s eyes were bright with unshed tears when he turned to face him. 

“I don’t know how we could ever thank you,” he said, folding his hands demurely before him. 

Yifan shrugged. “I don’t think there’s a need for it. We helped each other.”

He laid a hand over his heart, which was still aching, as if trying to get used to feeling again. Junmyeon’s eyes followed the motion. His fingers twitched and he smiled a little, soft around the edges, a single tear trickling down his face.

“I think Sehun would have liked you.” 

Yifan smiled at that, the memory of Sehun’s laugh ringing in his ears.

“I think I might have liked him too.”

He found Baekhyun in the library, sitting at the pianoforte. 

The drapes on the windows had been drawn back, Baekhyun bathed in golden light as he played, music dancing through the air, seemingly cheerful but with a little somber touch. 

Yifan tried not to disturb him but the prince seemed to notice his presence the very moment he entered, his golden head turning to smile at him.

“You’ve never played that before,” Yifan commented, walking closer. Baekhyun kept on with his playing, though softer now so that they could speak over the music.

“It was Sehun’s favourite,” Baekhyun said over the trailing melody. It seemed easier to speak his name now, as Yifan had noticed with all three brothers. 

Before the curse had lifted, they kept their pain close to them, their memories locked away as if it were a sin to even remember.

But now, every part of the castle contained memories that they had made with their little brother. 

Sehun would continue to live on, in their minds and hearts even as the tree remained in the courtyard, as gleaming gold as ever, only the pulsing veins absent.

It was just a tree now, with Sehun’s spirit freed from it, a memory of someone beloved.

-

They were lounging in the throne room, just basking in each other’s presence when the great doors swung open.

The guards never had time to announce the visitor’s name because he was barreling down the carpet in a streak of gold and green.

A loud smack echoed through the hall and they all stared, wide eyed.

Junmyeon was the first to recover, his eyes flashing electric blue but before he could blast the offender into oblivion, Baekhyun’s eyes were filling with tears.

He dropped the golden ball he had been toying with, the red handprint vivid against his cheek and fell to his knees.

“You— You bastard,” the foreign man was trembling, shaking with suppressed anger. There were tears in his eyes as he stared down at the gold streaked head.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun gasped, tears streaming down his face, falling like pearls on a broken necklace. “I’m so sorry.”

“I—” the man shuddered before he cupped his hands around Baekhyun’s cheeks and kissed him, so passionately that they all looked away out of respect.

“Looks like Baekhyun will get his happy ending after all,” Yifan commented as Junmyeon stepped down from the dais to chastise the pair, Yixing turning to look at him with starry eyes.

“Will we?” he asked, squeezing Yifan’s hand gently.

It was a loaded question.

Yifan swallowed, lifting a hand to Yixing’s cheek.

“I was never just a tool, was I?” he asked hesitantly and Yixing’s expression changed immediately.

“Never,” he declared, leaning their foreheads together.

“I will spend my whole life proving it to you if you would just stay.”

Yifan carded his fingers through Yixing’s hair, tilting his head up to press his lips against his forehead.

“I will stay.”

-

The wedding was the talk of the kingdom, full of gold and green and red, the colours of autumn and summer. 

The Summer Prince caused flowers to burst forth from the still frozen ground, emerald green grass spreading around the courtyard, dotted with beautiful wildflowers with white petals and golden centers.

In the center hall, Junmyeon had created ice sculptures, sparkling like diamonds. 

Yixing dotted the halls with golden light to compliment the grooms’ golden hair and turned the draperies green, gold and red.

Vases were filled with cuts from autumn trees, leaves the colour of flame and flakes of gold from their golden tree. Others had live branches from olive trees, bursting with greenery.

Every town had sent in a bouquet, some with blue snowdrops, others with deep red roses. There were sunflowers as golden as their namesake and poppies in every colour imaginable. 

Others had sent fruit, deep red pomegranates, golden oranges that filled the room with their fragrance.

Every royal family that they could reach was invited and the hall was full to bursting as Yixing stood by the door, greeting each noble with a brilliant smile on his face.

The pianoforte had been moved from its place in the library to the edge of the great hall, soft sweet music floating through the air as the guests took their seats.

Baekhyun was radiant in his white suit, his eyes shining with happiness. 

The ring on his ring reflected the light as Junmyeon walked him down the aisle, blue eyes alight. 

Yifan could not help but notice the way the Summer Prince’s companion, a fae nearly as tall as he, could not tear his eyes from the crown prince. 

He squeezed Yixing’s hand, jerking his chin in the direction of the man.

“Who’s that?” He whispered as Junmyeon handed Baekhyun over to the Summer Prince, whose name was Jongdae, as Yifan had learned the day he stormed into the palace, livid with terror and fear.

Yixing glanced over in the direction of the man and smirked a little, cuddling deeper into his arms.

“His name is Chanyeol and we had a little bet going before the curse if he was sweet on Junmyeon.”

It seemed that Chanyeol might not be the only one with a little thing as Yifan saw Junmyeon glance over more than once during the ceremony before quickly looking away, his cheeks flushing when Chanyeol caught him looking.

The man’s smile widened and his fiery hair almost seemed to glow.

Yifan’s heart filled with warmth as he turned back to see Jongdae slide a ring over Baekhyun’s finger, his eyes shimmering. Baekhyun was smiling so wide, tears stinging his eyes as he tried to do the same, nearly dropping the ring with his shaking hands.

He laughed and the hall echoed with it, the seated audience laughing with him as he tried once more and managed this time, Jongdae barely waiting for the priest to announce that they were on before cupping his cheeks and kissing him senseless.

Yifan was clapping along with the others when Yixing turned to him, his lips pulled up into the most glorious smile.

“I love you,” he said and Yifan squeezed his hand tightly. Right in this moment, he was the luckiest man in the world. 

There was nothing that could erase all the pain and heartbreak that he had experienced throughout his years. 

This moment came pretty darn close.

He felt as if he was floating when he leaned in close to whisper.

“I love you too.”