Leeteuk, the once Captain of the Knights of the Mirror King’s Court, looked out over the lichen-covered stones and into the black abyss of the well below. He couldn’t hear what his master heard, but he could imagine it: the cacophonous noise of kingdoms rising and falling, wonders being erected and crumbling to dust, soldiers switching from clubs to swords to guns to nuclear devastation, over and over and over again in a sonic dissonance that would drive most people mad with its implications of futility.

“Don’t stand too close, youngin’. I’m not about ter climb in and get ye if ye fall. Bad back, ye know.” Leeteuk obediently, albeit slowly, backed away from the edge of the old well at his master’s warning.

Though it was tempting.

“Could I fall into a different time?” he asked, his calm voice juxtaposed to his master’s wiley, scratchy tone.

“Certain as a summer’s day! Why’s that? Were ye lookin’ to walk with the great lizards o’ the past? Or mayhaps take a stab at ol’ Caesar yourself?”

“I want to go back.”

“It’s rude t’ mumble, Knight,” his master growled, his tone suddenly changing from amusement to irritation.

“Ex-Knight.” Leeteuk took a deep breath. “I want to go back,” he said in a stronger voice. He finally turned to face his master, watching him his impossibly long beard ponderously.

They were in the middle of a quiet wood, the trees , reaching up to the misty skies with their bare branches, having littered the ground with a carpet of orange and red leaves. Leeteuk had never seen it look any different throughout his childhood - a place ironically frozen forever in place and time. This was his domain, the master of Time himself. 

“Fer what purpose?” the old man asked, shuffling from one bare foot to the next as he regarded Leeteuk. “T’ain’t exactly a good idea ter go poking around in yer own history.”

Leeteuk couldn’t help scoffing. “What could be worse than this?” he asked exasperatedly, spreading his arms wide. “I find it hard to believe I’m not already living in the worst timeline.”

The little old man whistled through the gap in his teeth, a sound that soon turned into raucous laughter. He pulled his patched felt hat off his head and slapped his knee with it, thoroughly amused by the young man’s statement.

“If’n ye think this is as bad as it could get, yer in fer some sure disappointment!”

It was Leeteuk’s turn for anger. His ears burned in embarrassment as his master wiped the mirth from his solid black, iris-less eyes. “What’s worse than being… what’s worse than having had my childhood stolen from me? And from everyone else in my Court? What’s worse than me selling those poor trainees to the Horned One? What’s worse than… what’s worse than falling to the Long Winter?”

“Oh, sonny, trust me, it kin get much worse if ye go ‘round muckin’ stuff up.” Leeteuk’s master shoved his hat back on his head, regarding the ex-Knight with a serious look on his face. “But I ain’t yer master no more, so I s’pose t’ain’t my place ter say.”

Leeteuk felt a little hopeful at the change in his master’s tone. “So you can do it? You can change things?”

“Oh, certain I can. But do I want to’s the question, eh?” he replied, eyes twinkling.

Leeteuk frowned. He was tired of making deals with the Fae, but with any luck, this could be the last deal he or anyone he cared about would ever have to make with them ever again.

“There’s a price?”

“You betcha!” his master crowed, pointing a long, crooked finger at him as he grinned toothily.

Leeteuk crossed his arms. “And? What is it?” His master had never been a truly magnanimous man, but Leeteuk had been hoping for a little leniency, all things considered.

“What’s it worth to ye, savin’ all yer friends? If we’re talkin’ the bulk of the Mirror King’s Court… well that must be about two dozen fae-touched souls?” the old man mused, once again his long beard, causing it to swish the leaves at his bare feet. “That is… if’n they can be saved. Banality’s a finicky thing, ye ken?”

Leeteuk was on the balls of his feet in anticipation, glaring at his old master. “Yes! Yes, it’s worth it. Now what do you want?” Anything to be rid of the wracking guilt, the holes that riddled his heart. “I want to forget everything - I want to go back to… I want it to be like… like I was never there.”

A wide, unsettling smile crinkled the old man’s face until Leeteuk could no longer see his black eyes. “And I want to retire.”

Leeteuk paled.

“I’ll send ye back, but on one condition,” he continued, holding up that knobby finger. “Ye can try to spare yer friends all the heartache and misery, if an’ only if!” he paused for dramatic effect. “Ye take on the name o’ Rip van Winkle.”