~oOo0oOo0oOo~

“Kyungsoo-ah. Kyungsoo!”

There was no reply.

The eldest princess could only exchange worried looks with her younger sister as they beheld the pitiful sight of their youngest sibling. Several weeks had passed since Kyungsoo’s return home. The first days were those of celebration; a grandiose parade, followed by a tournament and a luxurious ball, were prepared in honor of the young prince’s homecoming. Before the roaring crowd of his subjects, Kyungsoo had seemed genuinely happy, all twinkling eyes and large smiles wrapped in silken robes and crowned in silver, but behind the palace gates he became someone else entirely.

He was still beautiful, but beautiful in a way a withered flower was beautiful; a lovely but pitiful testament to what could have been, what once was once upon a time. His skin, though the same milky white, seemed wan and pallid, and what flush his cheeks had held had faded, the former brightness of his eyes dulled and drained. The current Kyungsoo was a pale imitation of the radiant boy that had once trundled through the hallways, a ghost of his former self retracing the footsteps he had once tread only a year ago. But he still smiled, and laughed, and sang, and if they had not already known his brightness of before, his family most certainly would have been fooled into believing everything was alright.

“Kyungsoo,” the younger princess whispered as the two siblings stepped closer to the lake that was only a half hour’s walk from the palace. Nestled within the rocky terrain of the rising mountains, it was a place of solitude, where the heavens were reflected perfectly upon the water’s surface. It was nighttime, and the stars were out in their multitudes, sparkling lights littered across the sky and earth.

A few steps from the shore was a still figure, its back turned to them, submerged into the glassy waters so that it looked like it was lost among the star-studded firmament. Kyungsoo was still dressed in his robes, the white cloth swirling about him like the tail of a mermaid or the path of the gentle winds. His tiny figure looked so lost amongst the grand expanse of the lake, like at any moment he would be swallowed by the looming darkness and lost beneath the shadows.

Then Kyungsoo turned, catching sight of his sisters huddled together behind one of the many trees that framed the lakeshore. A smile cracked across his face, and slowly he waded through the water back to land, his clothing plastering to his body as water cascaded at his feet.

“Sisters,” he greeted, standing still as they began to fuss over him. Quickly, they dried his hair and wrapped him in towels, scolding him gently.

“This isn’t healthy,” the younger princess admonished gently as she rubbed small circles into his scalp. They both knew she wasn’t speaking of his nighttime swim.

“Not healthy?” Kyungsoo echoed, the smile on his face shifting into something curious. “I am alive, and I am well. I believe that is the definition of healthy.”

“Your body may be well, but your heart and soul are a different matter—“

The young prince silenced her with a pointed look, his eyes hardening. Both sisters knew better than to press the subject, and the walk back to the palace was one shrouded in silence.

The rising crescendo of voices could be heard through the thick oaken doors, the sounds of fretting and arguing swelling behind the closed entrance of the monarchs’ bedchamber. The King and Queen, their daughters and the royal physicians stood within the room, tossing words back and forth, oblivious to the young prince that stood just outside the door, bare feet pressed against the marble floor and ear pressed to the crack gilded with light in the midnight darkness.

They speculated a curse, or shock, or plain madness, though Kyungsoo begged to differ. He wasn't in shock, nor was he mad, and whatever curse had befallen him would have been one cast by his own hand. A letter, penned neatly to his family, was curled in his grip; on his back, a small satchel filled with a two wineskin of water, some money, enough provisions to last a day or two, a small bottle of powerful sleeping draught, and two knives to be used on those who wished to prey on him.

He waited until the physicians exited the room, followed by his sisters, hiding behind a column. He waited until his parents finally retired, worry for their son etched in lines across their faces. It killed him to see them like this, to know that they were suffering once again because of him, and the wound in his heart opened further to know that their pain would increase a tenfold when morning came. Quietly, he set his letter on one of the tables to found the next day. With one last glance and a silent prayer (“Lady Hestia, please have mercy”), he was out of the palace, slipping past the posted guard and out of the palace grounds.

He took the first path he came across, walking silently but surely—it didn’t matter whether he walked North or South, East or West, because at least he was going somewhere—beneath the silent sky and amongst the chilly night.

He hadn’t gotten very far—only two hours worth of walking—when he was startled by the sound of rustling in the bushes that paved the earthen road. Swiftly, he drew his knives, staring wearily at the origin of the sound. The juniper bush seemed innocuous, but Kyungsoo waited silently for the arrival of bandits and thieves.

What surfaced wasn’t ruffian armed to the teeth, but an elderly man with the most curious features. His hair and beard were long and tangled, twined with little grasses and vines and flowers, and he wore a thick cloak of what appeared to be goat skin. He balanced himself with a large, oddly shaped staff, and had an air of sagacity about him. For some reason, Kyungsoo inexplicably knew the aged man wasn’t malevolent, and slowly lowered his weapons.

“What is a little thing like you doing about the wilderness alone?” the old man wondered aloud as he slowly came closer. Though Kyungsoo didn’t raise his weapons, he stayed weary, primed to fight or flee at any moment. “Most have to be mad to wander alone at this late of an hour.”

“I’m not mad,” Kyungsoo said softly. The old man smiled, a strange twinkling in his eye.

“Not mad, eh? But alas, my dear child,” he said, coming ever closer. “One would not say a child wandering about at night is the most sensible one.”

“Perhaps I am a child not without sense, but with purpose,” the prince countered, a steely look flashing across his face despite his uncertainty, and old man laughed, thumping the ground with his wooden staff.  

“It is not so sensible to speak so harshly to a god either, youngling,” the elder murmured, though the look in his eyes was one of fondness and amusement. “Tell me, child, do you know who I am?”

The prince watched with wide eyes as the cloak seemed to melt into the old man’s skin, his legs morphing into those of a goat’s hind legs, horns sprouting beneath the thick curls of his hair, the lines on his face fading slightly.

“Lord Pan,” Kyungsoo breathed softly. “Lord of the wilderness.”

He felt deference, of course, for the deity that protected the wild realms of the earth, but there was also a peculiar sense of defiance. He didn’t want to bow prostrate against the ground, nor sing the god’s praises, but the station of a god obliged the reverence of mortals. Besides, he knew Pan was one of the kinder deities, who were, as a general rule, more understanding to their mortal worshippers, though still liable to smite those who offended them when the occasion came. So he compromised, sinking onto one knee, bowing his head slightly.

“Rise, my young prince,” the god said, and slowly Kyungsoo got to his feet. “You say you are not mad, but with a purpose. What purpose is this?”

“To find something that I have lost,” Kyungsoo answered quietly, his gazing dropping to the ground.

“Something, someone,” the god mused as he settled on a large rock, his cloven feet tapping against the stone surface. He gestured to another, smaller boulder, and slowly Kyungsoo took a seat, folding his legs beneath him. “Then tell me, child, do you know whom you seek?”

“A kind and good man who has given me more than I could have ever deserved.” The boy’s face, though still wary and cold, now adopted a strange sort of longing, and briefly his eyes flicked up to the stars. Pan felt something tug in his chest; pity, sympathy, and a strange sort of admiration. It was clear the little prince did not know the true identity of his husband, and yet he was still willing to wander the wilderness for the sake of a person whose name he didn’t even know.

“What is this man’s name?” Pan pressed gently, another wave of sympathy washing over him as he watched the boy’s plush lips tighten into a thin line. That was all he needed to know. 

“Your husband is a powerful being, one that wields such might that even the gods of Olympus and the demons of the Underworld fear him,” the god said, and Kyungsoo thought belatedly of the prophecy that had been given to him so long ago. “Even Lord Zeus has been brought to his knees before him, and the wisest and most cunning men and women driven to madness with just a prick of his arrows. He is both a monster and a guardian depending on his temper and whims; an architect of the most beautiful lives, and the destroyer of others. His power is what compels you on this quest, the reason sensibility has turned to madness.

“Can you tell me who your lord is now?”

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo breathed, the image of his husband’s last flight flitting across his vision. “Jongin.”

The name of the god of love tasted foreign on his tongue, foreign but fitting. But with the name came with knowledge, knowledge that his husband wasn’t the man Kyungsoo had originally thought he was, knowledge that he was one of the twisted beings that tore and took from their mortal subjects.

The question was once again presented to him; would he still love his husband, even if he seemed more monster than man?

Kyungsoo thought of the fury and rage and sorrow he felt when he witnessed others like him brought low because of the whims of the distant deities, the pain and sadness when he had learned he too would become one of those victims, the hatred and disgust he had felt when he thought he was being toyed with. But then he thought of nights spent beneath silken sheets, with whispers and laughs and promises and confessions; times of growth for the two of them, and revelations of their insecurities. He thought of the times his husband had begged for forgiveness and admitted to feeling intense guilt, not just for what he had done to Kyungsoo but for what he had done to multitudes of anonymous beings. His husband had never quite said who these beings were, but now Kyungsoo knew them to be lost souls like him, brought under love’s entrancing influence and played by an expert puppeteer.

They had both grown. Jongin’s eyes had opened to the consequences of his actions, and Kyungsoo now knew that he couldn’t hold the past in his grip forever. He had to let go because he knew Jongin had changed. The past was the past, but here he was presented with two paths to the future; the first, one in which he turned his back on his husband, change or no change, the second, one in which he was by Jongin’s side (should the god permit it), the two of them growing and learning together.

Kyungsoo knew his answer already. The past was inexcusable, but the present and future held the chance for pardon, for both him and his lord.

Pan watched the little prince’s face, and brought a finger to the boy’s lips before he could say a word. Kyungsoo’s countenance told him everything, and the skin around the god’s eyes crinkled in folds as he smiled, gesturing down the path.

Without a hint of hesitation, Kyungsoo continued walking.

~oOo0oOo0oOo~

Luhan frowned at the sight his mirror presented to him, rolling over on his couch so that he was laying back flat against the cushions. He had forgone his usual clothes of iridescent pink, choosing one of an equally lustrous ruby.

The sky was pleasant outside his palace, the breeze balmy and the stars brilliant, but the agreeable atmosphere did little to placate him. There was a sinking feeling in his chest, because the sight in his mirror told him that things weren’t going as perfectly as he had originally thought.

His original plan had been this; have that stupid little prince break Jongin’s heart and trust so his fellow god would flee, leaving Kyungsoo behind to wallow in sorrow. It was supposed to end there, Kyungsoo moping around his home until he became an elderly, ugly man, and Jongin moving on and finding some new, preferably less annoying, plaything to cherish for the moment.

But Kyungsoo— Tartarus, could the mortal become any more infuriating? Luhan had thought not, but oh had he been proved wrong—was not languishing alone in his palace with nothing but his guilt and broken spirit. The little prince had gotten up and walked out of the palace and out of the fate that Luhan had set for him, and the mortal’s unconscious defiance set the god’s teeth grinding. How dare he? How dare he?

The anger and hatred quickly morphed into amusement and vengeance. There were so many things he could do with the boy, now that he was out of the protection of his father’s palace guard. It wouldn’t be hard to lead a group of, well, for lack of better words, deplorable beings to the boy’s location. There were plenty of mortals, monsters, and deities who would salivate at the thought of the lovely little prince, and would do anything to get a taste of him.

Luhan’s twisted expression quickly disappeared at the sound of footsteps, and the face he presented to Jongin was one of innocent curiosity. The younger god had appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, looking lost and weary. There were bags under his eyes and his sun-kissed skin was unnaturally pallid. Luhan felt slightly guilty for his dear friend’s current state, but he knew that in a month or two Jongin would fine some new beauty to lavish with adoration.

Quickly, he stowed the mirror beneath one of his many cushions, though Jongin’s eyes followed the hasty movements with curiosity.

“What were you looking at?” the younger god said tiredly, his lack of interest apparent in his flat tone of voice.

Hiding a smirk beneath his innocuous mask, Luhan answered, “Nothing important, Jongin-ah. Nothing important at all.”

The mirror, which was pressed between the sofa’s soft exterior and the plush cushion, presented an image of prince Kyungsoo wandering across the moonlit landscape, knives in hand and face set.

~oOo0oOo0oOo~

A/N: Just a hint, Kyungsoo’s not quite as submissive and helpless as he first appears. ;) I love Satansoo, so there’s definitely going to be a bit of that violence and rage we see all the time in real life Kyungsoo.

I’M SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG IT TOOK FOR ME TO GET OVER MY ING WRITER’S BLOCK AND REAL LIFE ISSUES! ;A; I’ve been very busy as of the past months, and whenever I have gotten to write, for some reason I just couldn’t get the words to come out now. BUT I’M BACK. IF I’M LUCKY I’LL HAVE ANOTHER CHAPTER OUT SOON (soon as in sometime within the next two weeks, instead of the next half year OTLLLL)

Thank you to everyone who’s stuck around and continued reading, and thank you for those who have just come across this fic! :) I really hope that this hasn’t been a huge waste of your time ;A;

Please comment and tell me what you think, comments are basically what I live for! <3

(Also pls check out one of my recently finished fics called "Come a Bit Closer (Don't Stop)", it’s harrypotter!au and three parts with dorky Jongin and Slytherin Soo and askljakld I’m so shameless I’m sorry but please do read it I'd really appreciate it? .3. )