Archive of Our Own

It’s a week after the royal ball. The Crowned Prince has finally found his princess. The whole town should be buzzing with excitement as posters and announcements are made about the upcoming wedding. Everyone has heard of the tale by now. A mysterious, kind and lovely girl had swept through the castle and stolen the prince’s heart. But at the stroke of midnight, she fled, only to leave behind a glass slipper. The Prince and his staff combed through the entire kingdom for the owner. At last, they found her in an old and dilapidated house, forced into servitude by her stepmother and stepsisters. Despite the fact that she is a destitute commoner, the prince has not hesitated to ask her to marry him. True Love, as they say, conquers all.

All wells that ends well. 

Or so the kingdom believed. 

Soon after the discovery of the princess-to-be, the Crowned Prince went missing. The entire staff went through an even more extensive search for their beloved prince, but as time goes on to complete a full week, there remains no trace of him. 

Instead of rejoicing the royal wedding, the town is in mourning of their young prince. 

__________________________

“Do you think what the books say is true, Grandpa?” Wonwoo asks as he pauses his dusting to glance down from the ladder.

His grandfather, the town’s apothecary, glances up from his dosage of herbs. “About what?”

“That True Love conquers all,” the young man replies. He waves a hand toward the open windows, where he can glimpse at the announcements and posters concerning the disappearance of the prince. “If the phrase is true, why isn’t the princess-to-be out there trying to find him? Ever since she put her foot in that glass slipper, she’s done nothing aside from hiding in the castle.”

The old man shakes his head, resuming weighing out the blooms of lavender. “You should worry more about making those vials clean and sparkle than whether or not the future princess really loves him.”

“So you don’t think she does?”

“I didn’t say that! Now stop running your mouth and get back to work.”

Wonwoo frowns, muttering a few choice words under his breath, but he does as he’s asked.

While his hands are occupied on the task, his brain is not. He’s still pondering the mysterious qualities that True Love is supposed to possess. Being an apprentice at the shop, he’s seen plenty of examples where the medicines couldn’t cure ailments and illnesses, but Love could. Something that powerful couldn’t be ignored. 

Aside from curing diseases, it’s also said to break curses and enchantments, although admittedly, Wonwoo hasn’t witnessed that yet. But he still believes. Especially when he sees how happy people who are in love seem to be. Like his own grandparents, for example. No matter how tough the workday is, regardless how tired they are, in the end, they still manage to give each other smiles. 

Wonwoo wonders how love feels. Does it have a special taste? A special texture? A special smell? 

Asking his grandparents prove fruitless, as they keep telling him to remove his nose from the pages of his books and get back to work. Maybe being in love means you share similar thought processes. At any rate, he’s gone more than twenty years without encountering love, and he’d really like to change that. Not really because he’s particularly interested in anyone, but just to know how it feels like. 

How can love be cruel and kind at the same time? Why do some people wish for it, while others curse the day they did? How can it bring someone so much joy, while causing others to suffer so? Does it break or mend hearts? 

__________________________

One day on an errand for the shop, he pauses at the side of the road to wipe his brows with a handkerchief. The bright and hot sun beats down on his back, and he shields his eyes from the glare to locate any kind of shelter for a short break. His gaze sweeps over the fringe of the woods, noting the tall and thick trees. It’s probably cooler over there, he thinks, as he sets off. 

As he nears the edge of the forest, he notices something behind the swaying branches of the low shrubs. Curious, he moves the leaves aside to investigate. It’s a well, he realizes. Perfect, just when he needs a drink to cool off.

Unfortunately, by the time he gets close enough to see, he realizes that the mechanism is broken. The crank is missing, and the rod is barely hanging by a thread. Letting a disappointed sigh out, he slinks down the side of the paved well, making do with the cold surface for now. He rests his throbbing head back, relaxes his muscles to mold them around the curve of the stones, feeling a small chill running down his spine. He smiles in contentment as a gentle breeze swoops down to tickle his hair.

After a few minutes resting, his full energy returns to his limbs. The road back home shouldn’t be as tiring now that he's regained his strength, so he stands up and dusts himself off. He takes another look at the well.

Don’t they say that if a wish is made with a coin thrown into a well, the wish will come true? Or maybe it was a fountain. Whatever. It’s not like it’ll hurt. He digs into his pockets and pulls out a copper coin. Placing it over his thumb, he whispers, “I wish to find True Love.” Then he flicks his finger, watching the red piece making a perfect arc in the air and landing into the abyss.

He’s about to turn on his heels and go, when he hears, “Ouch!” 

Wonwoo halts, listening. But he hears nothing further. A quick look around shows no one by but him. Then his gaze locks on the well. No way. As absurd as it seems, he still tiptoes toward the opening and looks down. Only to see pitch darkness. 

Not wanting to risk looking like a fool, he decides to pick up a pebble and dropping it down to test.

“Ouch!”

Eyes wide, he backs off. The voice definitely came from the bottom of the reservoir.

“Hello?” he calls, his voice echoing in waves. “Is someone down there?”

“Oh!” the same voice responds. “Yes. Are you a traveler?”

“Um… Not exactly, I was just passing by.” Wonwoo scrambles for something to say. He’s never had to talk to anyone down a well before. And the person seems awfully calm for someone in that position. “A-are you okay?” 

“Well…” The person chuckles, a little nervous, if Wonwoo has to guess. “Not really, but don’t worry. Move along. Have a safe trip.”

Wonwoo’s brows knit together in confusion. “First, I’d like to apologize for dropping that coin and pebble down on you.”

Another laugh, this one clear and unrestrained. Wonwoo decides it sounds lovely. “It happens a lot, actually. There’s no harm done. My head is thicker than it seems.”

A smile finds its way to Wonwoo’s face despite the strange situation. “I don’t mean to pry, but may I ask how you ended up down there?”

“I would love to tell you,” the stranger says, “But I don’t know if you’d believe me.”

“Just try me.”

A short pause. “Very well. I was trapped down here by a fairy godmother. She didn’t appreciate my refusal to marry her goddaughter, and so she told me to think about it. To give me motivation, she chose quite a lovely setting.”

The sarcasm is thick, and on a normal day, Wonwoo would have appreciated it. But right now, the gears in his brain click into position.

“Wait a minute!” he exclaims. “You’re the Crowned Prince! You’re Prince Junhui, aren’t you?”

“Wow! You are much smarter than the other travelers I’ve talked to,” the prince praises. “They all thought I was some sort of ogre or whatnot. Not that it makes any difference whether people know my identity or not. How do ogres sound, anyhow? Maybe if I turn into one, the girl won’t want to marry me.”

“This is no time for jokes, Your Highness!” Wonwoo cuts in, panic starting to rise. “We need to get you out of here. The whole kingdom is worried sick about your disappearance.”

“Wait!” Prince Junhui stops Wonwoo’s erratic movements. “You can’t—I can’t leave. We’ll probably get severely punished for disobeying her. The only way out is for me to agree to marry that girl.”

Wonwoo scowls, leaning his elbows on the edge, ignoring the sharp stones biting onto his skin. “Why did you refuse her? After all, you and your men went through a lot of trouble to find her.” Then an ugly thought occurs to Wonwoo. He doesn’t want to think it, wanting to keep his thoughts about the Prince pure and kind, but he can’t stop the words from forming. “Unless you refused on the ground that she is a commoner and poor.”

“No, it’s not that at all,” Prince Junhui counters, then he sighs. “I was looking for her, yes, because she made an excellent conversationalist. Then she suddenly ran away, and I was very confused and worried. Especially when she left her shoe behind. I wanted to return it to her, and perhaps make a good friend. I didn’t realize that once I found her I’d have to marry her.”

“I see.” That makes sense. Somewhat. Seems a little extreme to comb the whole country just to return a shoe, but he figures perhaps Prince Junhui enjoyed being dramatic once in a while. “But to be stuck down here like this… wouldn’t you rather marry her? You did say you wanted to become friends, so she can’t be that terrible of company.”

“That is true,” Prince Junhui replies. “But I don’t want to get married for any other reason than love.”

At this revelation, Wonwoo couldn’t respond with any other retort without turning himself into a hypocrite. “I understand.”

“Thank you. You would be the first.” The prince sounds very sad, and Wonwoo doesn’t like it. 

He also doesn’t like to know that the country’s future ruler is stuck down a well as punishment for not accepting to marry some girl he doesn’t love. 

“Your Highness, I will get you out,” he vows.

“No, don’t!” the other refuses right away. “I don’t want you to get harmed.”

“But she’s a fairy, right? Even though she’s trapped you down here, she’s still keeping you healthy with magic, so she can’t be that bad. If anything happens, I’ll take responsibility for my actions.”

The prince doesn’t answer, and Wonwoo grows a little concerned. Did he overstep his bounds?

“Prince Junhui?”

“W-would you really?” comes the soft and timid answer. Wonwoo doubts that he’d be able to hear it if it weren’t for the echo. 

“Of course!” he asserts right away. “Now let me just find something to pull you out.”

It takes time. And effort. And a lot of sweat. But eventually, Wonwoo manages to find a rope and returns to drop it down the opening. Then to help with the ascent, he circles his end around a tree as leverage, then he pulls.

Eventually, he sees two hands propping up. They grab onto the edge of the well, followed by elbows a tuff of blond hair. The prince heaves himself over, and only then does Wonwoo drop the rope to run back over to him. 

“Whew!” Prince Junhui lets out a disbelieved sigh, leaning over his knees to take in deep breaths. “Thank you so much!” When he straightens out, he beams at Wonwoo. “My savior!” he giggles. “May I please know your name?” 

Whatever the prince says goes through one ear and out the other. Wonwoo freezes in his tracks, eyes blinking rapidly, heart hammering in his chest. The portraits and sketches have not done this man justice, he thinks dazedly. For someone who’s been stuck in a muddy well for over a week, with stains and smudges everywhere, he might be the most beautiful person Wonwoo’s ever seen. 

“Um…” Prince Junhui’s face falls slightly, concern causing his brows to furrow. He approaches the frozen statue cautiously. “Are you all right?” He waves a hand, which manages to snap Wonwoo out of the trance.

“Ah, y-yeah,” he stammers, clearing his throat and taking a step back to breathe properly. “I’m just in awe to be in the presence of a royal, Your Highness.”

“Oh, just call me Junhui,” he smiles, extending out his hand.

Wonwoo stares at it like a foreign object. Does the prince really want to shake his hand? He’s not sure if he should. Grandpa would probably smack the back of his head for being disrespectful. 

“Uh.” But his limbs don’t obey him. His hand wants to hold Junhui’s. “I’m Wonwoo.”

They shake. He dies a little on the inside. Junhui’s hand is firm, but soft at the same time. Long and elegant fingers grip his, unmindful of how clammy they must feel.

“Wonwoo,” Junhui repeats with a bright smile. His name has never sounded so nice. “Very nice to meet you.” 

The returning smile dies on Wonwoo’s face when a violent gust of wind rips through the forest. The boys cower, shutting their eyes and covering their heads. 

“How dare you try to take away the prince!” a shrieking voice demands.

Wonwoo snaps his eyes open to see a woman in her later years, wearing blue robes, holding a wand. Her face is scrunched up in anger, eyes narrowed as she shoots daggers at the apprentice. His insides are quivering, and he wants nothing more than to run away. 

But one look at the prince next to him, and he moves before he can think. He jumps out to stand in front of Junhui, baring her access to him. “You’re the one who should be ashamed!” he yells, not knowing where this confidence and courage is coming from, but he grits his teeth. “You’re a fairy godmother. You should be making wishes come true, not punishing innocent people.”

Appalled, she glares at him. “You’re nothing but a puny servant. You have no right to criticize me. Regardless, I am granting wishes. My goddaughter’s wish was to attend the ball. She deserves a good life, which she will get once she marries the prince.”

“But he doesn’t love her!”

“Wonwoo! Stop!” Junhui urges imploringly. He squeezes the shoulders in front of him with a shaky smile, then steps out.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong. I just wanted to get some fresh air, and this boy helped me,” Junhui explains. “Don’t hurt him. Just let him go, and I’ll return to the well.”

“Junhui!” Wonwoo exclaims with wide eyes. “You can’t just accept that!”

Turning to face him, the prince shakes his head. “This was my fault. I’m not going to let someone else, especially you, take the blame. Go home, Wonwoo.”

“But—” 

“I’ll be fine.” Then to Wonwoo’s horror, he faces the witch fairy. “I’m ready.”

However, as the boys look at her, she taps the tip of the wand against her chin, squinting her eyes as she thinks. They share a confused look. After a moment, she waves the wand around as if finally making up her mind.

“Your courage impresses me, boy,” she tells Wonwoo. “To show you that I do indeed possess good faith, I will issue you a task. If you succeed, both of you will go free. If you don’t—” she waves the wand once more, and this time, a black leather bracelet appears on Junhui’s wrist—“the Crowned Prince will return to the well until he agrees to marry my goddaughter, and you,” she points to the apprentice, “will come and serve me for as long as Prince Junhui remains stubborn.” 

“No!” Junhui jumps in. “Just get this thing off,” he yanks on the strap. “And return things to the way they were.”

Ignoring Junhui’s outburst, she grins and studies Wonwoo. “You can give up at any time, and no further harm will come to either one of you. What do you say?” 

Instead of answering her question, Wonwoo lifts his chin in challenge. “What’s the task?”

Her grin widens, while Junhui looks downright miserable grabbing onto Wonwoo’s sleeve.

“Very well!” she cheers. “Find me another prince worthy of my goddaughter and willing to marry her. You have until the next full moon.”

“That’s—” 

“I accept!”

“Wonwoo!” 

The apprentice ignores the round, pleading dark eyes boring into his profile as he addresses the fairy. “What about that black strap? What does it do?”

“That ensures that you don’t cheat,” she says severely. “If you try to run away, it’ll squeeze the life out of your precious prince. If you try to cut it, it’ll burn him.” The boys take their eyes off of her to throw a wary look at the bracelet.

“You’re a terrible woman,” Wonwoo accuses. “But I’ll win that bet. You’ll see.”

She offers them a placating smile. “Yes, we’ll see. Good luck!”

Another aggressive windstorm overtakes the forest as she disappears. The boys look up afterward and let out matching sighs. Wonwoo fills up his lungs with the now cooler air, letting the resolve soak into his muscles and bones. He stands proud and unwavering, mind already spinning out potential candidates and a plan of action.

Unlike Wonwoo, though, Junhui crumbles to his knees as if his legs suddenly cannot uphold his weight any longer. He pushes his fingers through his hair, face ashen with fear and anxiety. He worries his bottom lip, eyes distant and dull.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess,” he whispers, glancing up at Wonwoo like a lost child. “Now your fate is tied to mine so unfairly.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo calls softly, dropping to his knees. He hesitates for a second, but takes hold of the other’s hand. “I promised that I would help. No matter what, I won’t go back on that.”

“But she said—” 

“I know,” he cracks a smile. “The new potential position wouldn’t be much different from my current one,” he kids, hoping to make Junhui smile. “Besides, who says we’ll lose? Just promise me a reward for when this is all over, and I’ll be happy.”

It works. A tiny, but genuine, smile blooms on the prince’s face, and Wonwoo’s grin widens in response. “Okay. What would you like?”

He shrugs.”I don’t know yet. I’ll think about it as we go along.”

Nodding, Junhui lets Wonwoo pull him to his feet. “Before we start, do you mind if we stop by a river or a stream nearby?” he wonders. He looks down at himself and grimaces. “I feel like I’ve been buried in mud.”

Wonwoo laughs and leads him away. “That’s okay, though. You’re still our handsome prince.”

Junhui chuckles, but when Wonwoo peeks, he sees a pink tinge coloring the other’s cheeks.

“Are you certain you know how to light a fire?” Junhui asks a little tentatively, kneeling down next to Wonwoo in the dirt. 

They’ve managed to build a small pile of firewood, with a few rocks surrounding it to keep the embers in place. But so far, no sparks have lasted long enough to catch onto the dry grass.

“Of course,” Wonwoo assures him, striking the flints one more time. “I’ve read plenty of books and instructions.”

“I don’t think that’s quite the same,” Junhui murmurs, but refrains from adding further commentary. “I’m going to look around for a bit.”

Wonwoo hums out a reply, then concentrates on the basic—yet challenging—task in front of him. Afternoon has progressed to evening, and evening is quickly morphing into night. So far, he’s been able to see what he’s doing thanks to the remaining sun rays of the day. But the sun is already descending behind the tall pine trees, turning the horizon a bright orange. If he doesn’t get a fire going soon enough, they’ll be stranded in the dark, and vulnerable to the nightly chill. 

His fingers are stiff, a numbing pain making them throb. He drops the flints to rub his hands together, then tries one last time. 

Apparently, the sixty-eighth time is the charm. A spark strong enough to withstand the breeze catches on the small blades, turning them orange and red as smoke starts to billow. An excited laugh bubbles out of his throat as he lowers himself to blow gently onto the kindling. He nurses the tiny flame, feeding it slowly with more dried grass until it’s large enough to latch onto the twigs. Eventually, all of his hard work earns him a big and strong fire.

“Junhui! I did it!” He jumps to his feet and spins around, eyes adjusting to the darkness to search for the prince. “Junhui?”

No answer. No prince.

Panic shoots down his spine. Where is he? Where did he go?

Now that Wonwoo thinks about it, he remembers the latter saying something about walking around. How long ago was that, though? What if something happened to him? He’s a prince, he’s never been outside the castle alone. What if he’s been caught by a wild animal? Or another witch? 

With a groan, Wonwoo grabs the thickest branch he can find and uses it as a torch. Then he sets off further into the woods, keeping his eyes peeled and ears strained for any sign of the prince.

“Junhui?” he calls every few feet as he makes his way through the shrubs, keeping the fire within his sight. It wouldn’t do well to get himself lost, too. 

After a few minutes, just when his heart is about to give up on him from the sheer anxiety, he hears a faint reply.

“Wonwoo!”

His pulse shoots up, and he whips his head around in search of the source. “Junhui! Where are you?”

“Up here!”

Up here? Wonwoo repeats in his head, slowly lifting his head to survey the top of the trees. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, and he blinks when he finally makes out a figure sitting on a branch a good twenty feet high.

“What are you doing up there?” he wants to know, incredulous. Now that he can see better, he notes that the prince is gripping the trunk of the tree for dear life. “How did you even manage to climb the tree?”

“It was a question of survival,” he answers, a little indignant. “A family of wild boars was chasing me. So my instincts took over.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. While the appearance of wild animals in the woods isn’t uncommon, he can’t believe the first thing the prince thought of doing was to climb up a tree. Was he a cat in his previous life or something?

“Well, rest assured. There’s nothing down here but me,” Wonwoo says, feeling the muscles in his neck getting sore. “So come down. I managed to light a fire.”

“Really?” There’s genuine excitement in his voice, and Wonwoo is sure he’s flashing the brightest smile. “That’s wonderful, but uh…” A nervous chuckle echoes in the calm forest. “I’m not sure how to get down.”

Yep. The Crowned Prince is in fact a kitten.

Wonwoo scratches his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll come get you.” Dropping to his haunches, he digs a hole in order to burry his torch to hold it in place, then stands up to dust his hands. 

“What if you get stuck, too?” Junhui worries, making the apprentice chuckle.

“I won’t,” he assures him, grabbing the first reachable branch to heave himself up. “I’ve rescued plenty of cats from trees.”

“But I’m not a cat, though.” There’s definitely a pout at the end of that sentence, Wonwoo visualizes with a quiet laugh.

In no time at all, he’s reached the top where he can see Junhui now. He’s standing a large branch below the one the stuck kitten is perched on, his eyesight leveled with the prince’s chest. He’s glad to see that Junhui looks fine, saved from some dirt smears on his right cheek from where he must have pressed against the trunk.

“How impressive!” he comments with genuine praise. “There must have been a lot of lost cats where you come from.”

Wonwoo chuckles. “Not really. I just used to climb trees a lot when I was younger.”

“Were you hiding from wild boars, too?” he wants to know, eyes round with innocent curiosity, head tilted to the side.

“No,” the apprentice laughs again. He’s probably laughed more within the few hours he’s known Junhui than he has on most weeks. “But i was hiding from my grandparents and my tutors. No one thinks to look for you up here.”

“That’s true,” Junhui considers with a smile. “But what did you do all that time, though?” He looks around them. “Surely, taking a nap is out of the question.”

“Yeah,” the tree-climbing expert nods with a smile. “I usually brought a book with me.”

Junhui’s eyes widen slightly. “You can climb trees one-handed? Wow!”

The remark causes Wonwoo to burst into laughter. He’s never met anyone that endearing before, and he never knew the first person would be his own prince. “You get better with practice,” he says. “Are you ready to come down now?”

Junhui bites his lip, glancing down at the ground, seemingly so far away. He nods stiffly, his fingers gripping the tree. 

“Just follow me,” Wonwoo tells him as he inches away so Junhui has room to slide down to the same branch. They take slow steps, with Wonwoo instructing the impressionable cat where to step, keeping a firm hold on his upper arm just in case he slipped. It’s a long process, but eventually, the ground is within a few feet. Wonwoo jumps down first, then motions for Junhui to put his foot on the last branch. At last, he joins him on the firm forest floor.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Wonwoo remarks, walking over to pick up the torch. When he looks over his shoulder, he sees Junhui staring up the top of the tree, probably trying to see how far up they were.

“You could have really gotten hurt,” he mumbles, still assessing the height. 

Walking back to his side, Wonwoo causes him to tear his gaze away. “I told you. I’m used to it. Easy as pie.”

But the latter is still concerned as he scrunches up his nose and scowls at the tree again. “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble. I should’ve stayed in the well…”

Wonwoo frowns, his brows furrowed. “No,” he asserts. Boldly, he takes Junhui’s wrist in his grasp. The royal turns to look at him, but makes no move to pull away. If you did, I never would have felt this lighthearted over climbing a tree in the middle of the night. My pulse wouldn’t be racing just from standing close to you, and I would never have known how it feels to have a thousand butterflies in my stomach.

“Think of what you’d miss if you had stayed down there,” he says instead. “You’d never know the panic of running away from a boar, or the fact that you can climb trees.”

Junhui smiles gently. “Or the feeling of a lost cat?” he teases, making Wonwoo’s heart beat even faster. “Thanks, Wonwoo.”

The apprentice returns the gesture, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. “You’re welcome.”

With the brightness of the sunshine illuminating the back of his eyelids, Wonwoo stirs awake. Only to realize that something—no, someone—is wrapped around him. Groggily, he blinks away the sleepiness, and the events of the previous day comes to mind. The well, the prince, the evil fairy godmother, the task… 

With a stark shock, he realizes belatedly that the person whose head rests on his chest, with arms and legs wound around him is the Crowned Prince. Heat hotter than the sun rushes through his limbs as he gingerly glances down to see a tuff of blond hair. The short and silky strands tickle his chin as he tries to exert the least amount of movement to make sure he’s not hallucinating. 

Thick lashes fan out against golden skin, dotted with a handful of freckles like a celestial constellation. Wonwoo sweeps his gaze over the high nose bridge, down to the pink lips beneath, plump and soft. He wonders idly if he’s seeing things, but it almost looks like the corner of Junhui’s mouth is tugged upward into a small content smile. 

While Wonwoo’s breath hitches, he finds himself grinning like a fool. He just hopes his erratic heartbeat won’t disturb the sleeping prince.

As gently as he can manage, he places his hand on Junhui’s back and closes his eyes to wait for his companion to wake up.

“Junhui, those are not edible.”

“I know, but look how pretty they are!”

They’re supposed to be looking for berries and nuts, or just anything, really, that can be eaten. After they’ve woken up with empty stomachs, they had decided to head East, hoping to find potential candidates to marry the goddaughter. At first, Junhui had been very determined and focused, but as the day progressed, the forest path in the daylight soon distracted him from their immediate course of action.

He’s definitely been more interested in picking wildflowers than berries. Wonwoo wonders if the prince isn’t hungry because the fairy godmother’s spell to keep him alive in the well is still lingering, or if Junhui has the ability to ignore hunger in favor of acting like an excited child being allowed outside after several days of rain.

Whatever the case, Wonwoo has been trying to reign the prince back, but it’s proving quite difficult. Not so much because Junhui is argumentative or stubborn. More because Wonwoo apparently loses all of his momentum the moment Junhui turns those doe eyes in his direction. Wonwoo asks himself if Junhui knows the effect he has on the poor apprentice and does it on purpose. But as soon as the thought crosses his mind, he shakes it off. There’s no way Junhui is capable of scheming that much. His every thought is always displayed as plain as day over his facial expression.

“There you go!”

Wonwoo is pulled out of his thoughts by Junhui’s giggle and something light and circular being placed on top of his hair. Confused, he stares at the prince, who is smiling as brightly as the sun, admiring whatever it was he had placed on Wonwoo’s head.

“Oh, I wish I had a mirror to show you how handsome you look!” Junhui exclaims.

To hide the blush, Wonwoo uses his arms to block his face as he carefully touches the circular thing. His fingertips come into contact with soft petals and fuzzy stems. 

“Is that why you’ve been picking all those flowers?” Wonwoo asks a little bewildered. “To make me a flower crown?”

“Yeah!” the other replies with pride. Laughing, he inclines his head in a short bow. “Salutations, Flower Prince Wonwoo.”

The Flower Prince rolls his eyes, but he’s chuckling. “Only for a day, though.”

Junhui shrugs, catching up with him. “Says who?”

“Says nature,” he points to the crown. “These will wilt in a couple hours, at most. Then I’ll be just Wonwoo again.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” his companion says, looking over at him. “I like Just Wonwoo.”

At those words, the apprentice’s stomach flip flops, and he has to look away from the honest gaze. But Junhui continues as if he can’t see the evident blush blooming on the other’s cheeks.

“If either Flower Prince Wonwoo or Just Wonwoo showed up to the ball, I don’t think I would have even talked to the goddaughter.”

Is he trying to make my heart burst out of my chest?

Wonwoo throws a quick glance to the side, but Junhui wears a peaceful and calm expression, face upturned to catch the sunlight. The brunet swallows again, unsure how to respond to the comment. All he can do is stare at the ethereal sight before him.

Fortunately, something in the road catches his attention, putting on hold their current conversation. It’s a tower. A very tall tower made of bricks, with what appears to be some sort of housing on the very top. The boys exchange curious looks as they climb the hill that leads to the foreign sight.

Once they reach the building, they see a door with an inscription.

Call my name and compliment my hair.

“What does that mean?” Junhui wonders, scrunching up his nose again. 

Wonwoo shrugs. “No idea. But it wouldn’t hurt to knock, right?”

When the other agrees, Wonwoo raises a hand to rasp his knuckles on the wood. After a few moments, they hear a pair of hinges creaking somewhere above them. Surprised, they glance upward in reflex, searching for the source.

A head pops out of the open window. It’s a boy, maybe a year or two older than them, with dark hair and large eyes. “Who’s there?” he wants to know.

The travelers step away from the door to see him more easily.

“Oh, hello,” Wonwoo says, a little intimidated by the older’s built and intense gaze. “My name is Wonwoo, and I’m accompanying Prince Junhui,” he explains, waving a hand at his partner. “We’ve been given a task by a fairy godmother, and we were wondering if you could help us.”

“I see,” the man upstairs replies, nodding. His expression seems to have softened, or maybe he was just scowling from the sun; it’s a little difficult to tell from the distance. “Well, the door is stuck, but you can climb up if you’d like.”

Before the boys can respond, he disappears inside. They hear some muffled questions, and three different voices, including the man’s. A few seconds later, he reappears at the window and throws down a long rope, attaching the end to a hook built into the tower. 

“Come on up!” he invites. “It’s been a while since we had any visitors.”

He stays in place to keep an eye on them as they decide to let Junhui go first. Wonwoo figures that if Junhui misses a step, he can try to catch him from down here. Moreover, if the people in the tower are villains, Wonwoo can climb in quickly after him to ensure his safety. Junhui is a little hesitant at first, but then decides it’s for the best, because if anything happens, Wonwoo can run away to safety while he stays behind to hold the potential dangerous people off.

Wonwoo waits for Junhui to get halfway up the tower before he starts to climb after him. It uses a lot of upper body strength, and Wonwoo is winded partway through. Surprisingly, though, Junhui doesn’t seem to have any difficulty with the task. He even waits at the window to pull Wonwoo inside.

Now that they’ve made it, they stand close to each other, with Junhui tugging Wonwoo’s wrist, as they gaze at the scene before them. Just like they imagined, the inside is like a miniature house. Lounging along the couch is a handsome man with long, blond hair. He gazes lazily at the pair, but there’s a friendly smile on his face. Next to him, another male is holding a guitar, offering them a welcoming wave and grin. As for the man who invited them up, he walks to the kitchen and brings out a tea tray, complete with cookies and strawberries.

“Take a seat,” the blond says, indicating with his chin the chairs around the dining table. As the boys gingerly sit down, he pulls his legs in and straightens out on the couch. “I’m Jeonghan,” he introduces himself, his voice smooth and alluring. 

While he looks charming, Wonwoo can’t help feeling a sense of dread. There’s definitely something mischievous under that angelic face, he thinks. 

“Very nice to meet you,” Junhui says with a bright smile, unaware of the potential threat. “I’m Junhui.”

Jeonghan’s smile widens. “The missing Crowned Prince,” he murmurs, standing up to approach their table. He pauses at the side, stroking Junhui’s hair as a mother would her son. In comparison to his, Junhui’s hair is more golden than blond, Wonwoo notes. “Seungcheol says you two are on some sort of quest imposed by a fairy godmother,” Jeonghan states, tearing his gaze away to address Wonwoo. “Tell me about it.”

“Well,” Wonwoo rubs his neck, then he starts to explain the situation in more details. The men listen attentively. Seungcheol crosses his arms and frowns as the story unfolds, while the other male looks sad. Jeonghan’s face is smooth as he taps his chin. “And so, here we are.”

“I can’t believe someone would be that evil,” the third male says with a head shake.

“I bet it’s the same witch who cursed me to stay here,” Jeonghan mutters.

“Why did she?” Junhui wants to know, turning to look over the three men. “And did she trap you two here as well?”

“Oh, no,” the blond responds. “Seungcheol and Shua actually tried to save me,” he laughs, patting the others’ shoulders. “The witch initially wanted my hair, for whatever reason,” he shrugs, seemingly bored of her motive. “So she put me in this tower, making me grow it out so that she can come and cut it.”

Wonwoo cocks his head to the side to study the mentioned hair. While it is indeed very nice and shiny, it’s not that long. In fact, it’s barely past his shoulder in length.

“How long have you been stuck here?” Junhui wonders, probably from analyzing the length as well.

“Hmm.” Jeonghan turns to the other two. “Four years?”

“Sounds about right,” Seungcheol answers with a nod. 

“Does your hair take that long to grow?” the prince pushes.

That causes the thee males to laugh, as if he were a child asking silly questions. While Wonwoo would normally agree that Junhui seems quite naive, he has to disagree this time. That question was valid.

“No, silly, I cut it. I like my hair this length, and no witch is going to get her grimy claws on it. She used to come by every three or so months to check up on me, but she might have given up after coming and seeing the unchanged length.” He shrugs again. “Not my problem.”

“Don’t you want to leave?”

“Not really,” he answers easily. “I’m not much for physical activities, and I have everything I need here.” With a wave, he gestures toward the furnished house. “Besides, if anything is amiss, I have these two.”

Wonwoo shares a look with Junhui. “How did you end up here again? You were trying to save Jeonghan?”

Seungcheol nods, blowing out a breath. “I heard there was someone stuck in a tower by an evil witch. So I thought it was my duty as a prince to rescue the poor soul. But then I got here, and he didn’t even want to leave.” Shaking his head in disbelief, he rubs at his face, probably remembering the antics from the blond man. “Anyway, I ended up staying to help him out, and yeah.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jeonghan frowns. “You make it sound like I kept you here against your will. We all know it’s because you love me.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, but he’s not denying it.

Shua laughs quietly at the exchange. “I was sent on a mission to find Prince Seungcheol,” he informs them. “I actually found him pretty easily. He was on an errand for Jeonghan, and so I just followed him back to see what was going on.”

“And you stayed!” Jeonghan exclaims, hugging Shua’s neck affectionately. “Because unlike old man Cheol, you love me most.”

Seungcheol opens his eyes in shock. “Old? Only by a few months!” While Shua laughs and pats Jeonghan’s hand. 

Wonwoo clears his throat. He’s not sure if the answers helped him understand the trio better, or if it just made it worst. He’s not going to comment, though. Whatever their relationship is, it seemed to work well for them.

“So then you’re all Princes?” the apprentice asks, eyeing them. When they nod in agreement, he ventures, “Then would one of you like to marry the goddaughter?”

Jeonghan thinks about it. “I’d have to leave, wouldn’t I?”

Junhui nods.

“Then I’m going to have to decline the offer,” he says. “But!” he adds when he sees the dejected looks cross over the boys’ faces. “I might be able to find a solution to your problem!”

“How?”

Wonwoo has a bad feeling about this. And it’s proven right when Jeonghan shares his thoughts with narrowed eyes and a sly grin.

“You don’t have to worry about finding her a prince if she doesn’t exist.”

Junhui’s eyes turn round, while Wonwoo’s jaw falls open. Shua seems appalled, while Seungcheol’s face crumbles. 

“What?” Jeonghan asks, the perfect picture of innocence, as if he didn’t just suggest murder.

“No one is going to kill anyone,” Seungcheol states. “You know, it’s a good thing that you don’t leave the tower,” he mutters under his breath.

Sulking, the blond man upturns his eyes to stare at his companions. “Oh, so it’s fine to kill a dragon, but not someone unwanted?”

“Yes!” Seungcheol all but cries. 

Placatingly, Shua pats Jeonghan’s arm. “Maybe you should go take a nap.”

“Fine,” the latter sighs dramatically, waving toward his guests as he addresses his housemates. “Make sure the children get something to eat before they leave.”

Children? The guy can’t be that much older than them, Wonwoo thinks to himself, watching the blond’s retreating figure.

Once he’s gone, the others let Wonwoo and Junhui eat the cookies and tea, while they head to the kitchen.

“I’m not sure what to make of him,” Junhui leans in close to whisper to Wonwoo.

Suppressing a pleasant shudder from the proximity, he nods. “Yeah. Maybe the witch isn’t so bad after all.”

After they finish their tea and cookies, the boys are more than happy to get back on the road. Especially when the older ones hand them supplies for the road. 

“Good luck on your quest,” Seungcheol wishes, giving them encouraging smiles as he watches them climb down the rope. 

“Thank you,” Junhui smiles genuinely, not at all like the weird grimace that Wonwoo is forcing his face to contort into.

His mood doesn’t return to normal until they’re on the ground, and he has Junhui’s warm hand in his as they make their way to the next destination.

It takes them three days and two nights to finish the food supplied to them by the three princes in the tower. So far, the road had been quite peaceful. They’ve managed to avoid wild animals and keep themselves dry. They passed the time by discussing their families and friends, exchanging anecdotes about their respective lives. While Junhui had first appeared to be naive and a little scatterbrained, Wonwoo came to learn that he was also very kind and thoughtful, humble and striving to ameliorate himself. All good qualities a future ruler should have.

Speaking of ruling the country, it seems as though only Wonwoo remembered that fact. Junhui not once made any demands or ordered him around. In fact, he’s the one making himself useful gathering firewoods and searching for shelters. Of course, he got himself lost occasionally, but that wasn’t the point. At least he tried, and the more time they spent together, the fonder Wonwoo grows toward the crowned prince. 

While he enjoys the new feelings, in the back of his mind, there remains the nagging knowledge of the repercussions of the task if they failed. But more than that, he reminds himself that even when he wins against that witch, he would probably never see Junhui again. 

His gloomy mood must have been more apparent that he thought (or Junhui just got better at reading him), but the prince stops in the middle of the conversation about flowers, to glimpse at him. The warm hand around his squeeze gently, prompting him to regard the other, a little dazed.

“What?” he asks, not sure if Junhui expects an answer to a question Wonwoo failed to hear.

Junhui looks at him. He blinks, drawing his face closer to the apprentice’s. The latter holds his breath, heart hammering in his chest. 

“Why do you look so sad?” he asks quietly.

Wonwoo stares, momentarily lost in the gentle and concerned gaze. He doesn’t want to worry him, so he replies with a shaky laugh, “I’m not sad. Why would I be sad? I’m just a little tired. We’ve been walking for a while.”

The prince nods, although he doesn’t seem quite satisfied by the answer. “I know!” he exclaims, expression clearing. He lets go of Wonwoo’s hand, much to the other’s disappointment, to stand before him. Then he lowers himself, resting his hands on his knees. “Come on, I’ll carry you!” he suggests over his shoulder.

Wonwoo’s eyes widen. “I can’t let you carry me!”

“Why not? I’m stronger than I look. Besides, I used to carrying my brother on my back all day.”

“I’m certain I’m a lot heavier than a child,” Wonwoo murmurs. “Besides, I can’t let the prince carry me.”

Straightening out, Junhui pouts. “I told you, when we’re alone, I’m just Junhui. Now come on.” He grabs Wonwoo’s arms and swings them around his neck. 

Before Wonwoo can put up much of a resistance, he’s lifted up. Junhui’s hands grip his legs securely, adjusting his weight as easily as if he were carrying a two-strapped satchel. 

“Isn’t this much better?” the prince asks with a chuckle, setting off.

Wonwoo nods, although he’s not so sure. His insides have turned into liquid, and he’s pretty sure he’s glowing from the intense blush. At least Junhui can’t see it. For the first few minutes, Wonwoo’s body is as stiff as a board, but as Junhui picks up the conversation, Wonwoo gets distracted, and his muscles mold themselves to Junhui’s strong back, his arms coming around to rest on the broad shoulders. 

A breeze blows through, caressing the blond strands below his chin. Instead of removing his hand from around Junhui’s neck, he nuzzles against his neck instead, causing the prince to giggle at the tickling sensation. 

“You have such a pretty laugh,” he blurts out. Once again, he’s very grateful for the fact that Junhui can’t see him.

“Really?” he sounds excited at the compliment, shifting his face in an attempt to see Wonwoo. 

“Yeah,” he swallows, wishing he could swallow the redness in his cheeks, too. “I like it.”

“They do say that laughter is the miracle cure,” Junhui muses. “Or is that just a myth, Mr. Apprentice?”

Wonwoo cracks a smile. “That’s what I’ve heard, too. That along with Love can apparently cure anything.”

“How amazing,” Junhui says pensively with an air of wonder. Then he pauses for a moment as he thinks. At last, he forms his question. “Have you ever been in love, Wonwoo?”

The inquiry makes his stomach flip flop, along with a thrill shooting down from his head to his toes. He swallows thickly and shakes his head. “N-no. Have you?”

“I don’t know,” Junhui shrugs, contemplative. “Sometimes, I wonder. If you’ve never experienced something, how can you know when you do encounter it?”

“Maybe it’s one of those things where you’re just supposed to know?” he guesses. “That’s something I’ve wanted to figure out, too.”

Junhui chuckles. “Well, so far, we’ve learned that love can apparently drive you to tolerate someone, even if they’re ridiculous and unreasonable, staying holed up in a tower.”

Laughing along, Wonwoo agrees. “Love is weird.”

___________________________

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“If you’re seeing a giant gingerbread house covered in candy, then, yes.”

The boys stand rooted in place at the edge of a clearing, blinking in disbelief. The colorful house is such a contrast to the somber tones of the woods, it’s hard to miss, yet at the same time, is it really possible for something as a candy house to be real?

More daring than Wonwoo, Junhui tugs him forward to take a better look. The closer they get, the stronger the smell of sugar permeates the air, overpowering the fresh scent of pine and earthy dirt. They stand by the side of the house, and Junhui reaches up to tap lightly at the wall. 

“It’s gingerbread,” he assesses in amusement, eyes wide, mirroring Wonwoo’s expression. Next, he picks at the gumdrops used to decorate the window frame. He pinches off a tiny piece and brings it to his face. With slight trepidation, he sticks his tongue out and licks at it. “It’s sweet!”

“It’s really candy?”

“Yeah!” He steps back to survey around. “Who lives here?”

As if in answer, the front door—made up of cookies and licorice—swings open, startling the stunned visitors. Immediately, a boy with round and high cheekbones steps out, eyes scanning the surrounding. The moment he sees the travelers, his eyes light up, and a wide smile appears on his face.

“Hello! Welcome!” he exclaims, then turns over his shoulder to yell inside, “Hansol! Set the table! We’ve got two!”

Before Wonwoo and Junhui could react, the boy is already rushing over to then, grabbing each of their hands in one of his. “Come on in! Have you been on the road for long? You must be starving! Oh, my name is Seungkwan. What about you?”

“Uh—”

“Oh, hi!” Another boy appears the moment they enter the candy house. This one has orange hair and wears a lopsided, but friendly, smile as he waves at them. “I’m Hansol!”

“Uh, h-hello,” Wonwoo replies, still reeling from the lightning-fast introductions and welcome. “I’m Wonwoo.” 

“And I’m Junhui. Nice to meet you.” He grins, looking around them and taking it all in. “Your house is amazing! Is everything really candy and sweets?”

“Yes!” Seungkwan answers. “Let’s go inside,” he ushers. “You two look exhausted.”

Following them, they walk into a living room with real furniture, thankfully. Wonwoo isn’t sure how he’d feel about sitting on edible things. The house owners show them to a small table set. It’s not until they all sit down that Wonwoo realizes how tired he truly was. His bones feel like they could break off at the joints and crumble into a pile. Junhui, on the hand, is still admiring the surrounding with an enthusiastic, open expression.

Hansol offers them two glasses of water as Seungkwan repeats his earlier questions. After Wonwoo explains their situation, pensive and serious expressions form on the younger’s faces. 

“She doesn’t sound like a fairy godmother,” Hansol remarks.

“Seriously,” his housemate confirms. “Sounds more like a witch.”

Wonwoo agrees with a nod. “So that’s why we’ve been traveling for half a week now, but so far, no luck.”

“You haven’t met any prince?”

“We have,” Junhui says. “But they were already happy with their lives. They didn’t want to get married.”

“That sucks,” Hansol blows out a breath, lifting his bangs. 

Seungkwan scowls, eyes narrowing to give off the message that he’s thinking really hard about something. At last, he concludes, “I want to help, but not by marrying that girl. You need to get rid of the witch herself!”

Wonwoo glances over at Junhui to see the latter widen his eyes. “We don’t want to kill anyone,” the prince says in a hushed voice, as if afraid she might hear and appear out of thin air—which, truth be told, she might have the power to do just that. 

“It’s really not that hard,” Hansol pipes up. “We’ve done it once.”

Junhui squawks, “What?”

The younger ones appear way too calm about this situation, and Wonwoo suddenly doesn’t feel very comfortable anymore. “How exactly did you end up in a candy house?”

“It’s a long story,” Seungkwan waves a hand in the air. “Basically, we got lost in the woods, and we came upon this house. Hansol started to eat it,” here he glares at the other boy, but the latter merely laughs and shrugs, not looking apologetic at all. “Anyway, I tried to tell him to stop, but before I could, the witch who lived here came out and snatched him.”

“Oh no!” Junhui exclaims.

“Mhm,” Seungkwan hums, clicking his tongue. “So of course, being the smarter of the two, I spied on the situation from the windows. Apparently, she created this house as a trap to catch travelers. Then she eats them!”

Junhui makes an aghast face, bringing his thumb to his mouth to bite on it. “So what did you do?”

“Well, she had pretty bad eyesight,” Hansol takes over the storytelling. “So she couldn’t actually see much. I told her I saw someone outside, and while she had her back turned, Seungkwan snuck in and stole the key to the cage she locked me in. He threw it to me, and I got free.”

“With the two of us running around, she quickly ran out of breath. After she fainted, we just looked through her shelves and found some bottles with sparkly powders. We couldn’t really read the labels, so we just tried them all out. In the end,” Seungkwan turns in his chair and points at something on a decorative table. “She turned into that.”

Wonwoo and Junhui widen their eyes as they stare at the potted plant with slacked jaws. “You turned her into a flower,” Junhui states, as if that would help making the situation easier to process. 

“Yeah,” Seungkwan nods. “Now she can’t harm anyone, and our problems are solved, too. We use her house to help lost travelers, people like us back then.”

“Wow!” Junhui seems very impressed with them, and while Wonwoo gives them credit for everything they’ve done, he’s still trying to come into terms with all the new information. He’s pulled out of the daze by Junhui’s following comments. “That’s very noble of you. If I ever get out of my deal with the fairy godmother, I will have to award you.”

“Really?” the witch victors beam. “That would be great!”

“Not ‘if’,” Wonwoo interrupts, nudging Junhui’s shoulder. “When’. I told you I’m gonna win the bet, didn’t I?”

The prince offers him a gentle smile, and he feels his inside melting. “I know.” He pats his hand. “I’m just being cautious.” 

Hansol scratches his hair. “There’s still plenty of potions left in the cupboard,” he says helpfully. “I’m sure you can use one of them to defeat your witch.”

“It’d sure save you time,” Seungkwan adds in. “Besides, I don’t trust witches. What if she goes back on her promise and imposes another impossible task?” Schooling his face into a resolve, he crosses his arms over his chest. “You gotta get rid of her. It’s the only permanent solution.” 

Wonwoo watches discomfort settling over Junhui’s expression as he shuffles in his seat. “I don’t think we need to resort to such radical means,” he says hesitantly.

Seungkwan sighs, shaking his head. “Prince Junhui, there’s great respect to be given to someone kind, but you’re too softhearted!” he exclaims. However, when he notices the latter flinching at the sharp tone, he gentles his voice and taps the back of his hand encouragingly. “Think of what she’s already done to you and Wonwoo. She’s not a nice person.” A scowl overtakes his face. “You’d be doing the world a favor. Besides, you’re not killing her,” he points out, gesturing grandly. “You’re merely incapacitating her.” Thoughtfully, he speaks aloud, “I wonder what kind of plant she’d be.” 

Without waiting for Junhui’s response, he goes toward what Wonwoo assumes to be the kitchen. They hear a cupboard opening and closing, then he returns holding a vial with sparkling purple powder. He hands it to Junhui.

“That’s the one we used—well, one of them, at any rate. The ones before it didn’t do anything to the witch.” A shrug. “That’s the one that changed her into the flower.” 

“Don’t you think we should test it out before giving it to them?” Hansol suggests. “Can you imagine if she shows up, they throw it at her, and it doesn’t work?” His eyes bulge as he imagines the disastrous scenario. 

“Are you volunteering?” his friend sneers, apparently displeased by being called out on his short-sightedness. 

Hansol puts his hands up in surrender. “I never said anything.”

To dispel the tension, Junhui clears his throat and picks up the vial. “Thank you,” he says in a small voice, forcing himself to smile. “I’ll be sure to put it to good use.”

That new attitude seems to please Seungkwan, who nods in approval. “Great! Now let’s get you something to eat.” 

And that’s how Wonwoo and Junhui spend their evening. 

Before they head to bed, the apprentice walks into the room that Hansol indicated for them to share to find Junhui perched on the windowsill. The glass pane is open, and he’s staring out at the night sky, a cool breeze blowing inside to ruffle his hair. The strands are dyed silver in the semi-darkness; the glow from the stars and moonlight shine over the royal figure to make him appear almost ethereal. As beautiful as he looks, though, Wonwoo doesn’t miss the sadness that seeps through his well fabricated façade. His hand is rubbing the black strap around his wrist absentmindedly, teeth worrying his lip.

Granted Wonwoo has only known him for a few days, but to see such a contrast to the happy and enthusiastic prince from this morning fills him with anxiety. Obviously, Junhui had been trying very hard not to let the dread and worry show, perhaps for Wonwoo’s sake, but it must take a toll on him. You can’t be happy all the time, regardless of how much you force yourself. 

Wonwoo shifts his weight, causing the floorboards to creak noisy. He hisses with a scowl, attempting to step back out onto the hall, but Junhui already turned around at the noise.

“Wonwoo?” he calls. “Are you okay?”

The addressee glances up to see Junhui making his way over, concern evident in his stormy eyes.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he answers, feigning nonchalance. “I just thought I saw something, but it was just a shadow.” Then he changes the subject. “Let’s get some sleep. You must miss sleeping in a bed,” he chuckles.

Junhui cracks a smile. “A little, yeah.” 

They get into the adjacent beds, and Wonwoo pulls the covers up to his chest. He shifts to his side to see Junhui mirroring his actions. The boy is keeping mum, so Wonwoo doesn’t probe. He figures Junhui is still upset about the potion that Seungkwan gave him. Maybe a good night’s sleep will ameliorate his mood. With the hopeful thought, he wishes Junhui goodnight and slips into dreamland.

By late afternoon the following day, they come to rest at the shore of a river to quench their thirst. Wonwoo is lying back on the grass, staring up at the clear sky, when he feels Junhui get up. He turns his head to watch him stride toward the row of trees. Not wanting a repeat of the last time, the apprentice keeps him in his field of vision. Fortunately, Junhui isn’t trying to test his climbing skills. He’s reading some kind of announcement nailed to a trunk. With a sharp tug, he retrieves the paper and runs back to Wonwoo’s side, grinning in excitement.

“Look!”

Wonwoo sits up, propped by his elbows as Junhui slips in next to him. The poster is for a performance deemed to be magical and extraordinary by someone named Hoshi. A little confused, the apprentice lifts his gaze from the paper to wait for Junhui to explain himself. Did he suddenly get the urge to watch a show?

The prince had shown to return to his usual cheerful self as soon as dawn broke. All throughout the day, he had talked excitedly with Wonwoo about everything and anything, flashing grins brighter than the sun hanging overhead and munching on the candy that Hansol and Seungkwan gave them. Wonwoo had been glad to see his mood lifting, but now it seems a little too happy considering their situation has yet to improve.

“I know him!” the prince says, pointing to the name of the performer. “Well, I don’t actually know him, but he came to the castle a few times before, and we’ve talked. He’s a great dancer.”

Arching a brow, Wonwoo asks, “And you want to go see him perform? Do I need to remind you we’re on a mission?”

“I know that, silly,” Junhui pokes his arm. “But Hoshi is actually the son of a duke. So technically, he’s a prince, too! Maybe he’ll be interested in the goddaughter.”

That makes more sense. 

“I see. Well, it’s worth a try.”

And so they set off toward the town that the poster indicates in search of the dancing prince.

When they finally arrive, the festival is already underway. A large crowd is gathered in front of a wooden stage, bright and colorful lanterns are hung on criss-crossing strings overhead, and music flows throughout the cheers and laughter. Delicious flavors waft off from the multitude of food stalls around the town square, drawing almost as many people as the performance. 

Junhui observes the joyous activities with awe and delight, grinning widely. The spark of the lights reflect off of his eyes, giving them a brighter gleam than usual. Wonwoo stares at him openly, absorbing the pure joy emanating from his laughs and rapid speech as he points at everything around them. 

“Look, Wonwoo!” he exclaims, beaming as he spots something at one of the stalls. “They have games!”

The apprentice snaps out of his royal-induced daze when the object of his affection starts running off. “Hey! Wait up!” Catching up, he grabs his hand, knotting their fingers together before his brain has the time to compute what he’s doing. 

The prince looks curiously at their entwined hands, then looks up to meet his gaze.

“So we don’t get lost,” Wonwoo says, which is true, for the most part. Junhui is too distracted to notice the blush, right?

“Okay,” the latter grins, giving Wonwoo’s hand a squeeze. “Let’s go.”

He leads the apprentice to the appropriate stall, which has several target boards lined up at the back. On the counter are several miniature bows and arrows, small enough that Wonwoo wonders if this game is meant for children.

However, when the man notices them, he greets them with enthusiasm. “Welcome, boys! Are you up for a challenge? If you hit the bullseye six times in a row, you get free dinner.”

“And if we lose?” Wonwoo asks, eyeing the bows warily. 

The man lets out a bark of laughter. “Then you’ll help clean up at the end of the night.” Seeing the confused looks on the boys’ faces, he laughs heartily and explains. “The whole festival is a gift from Prince Soonyoung. Everyone is welcome to come and enjoy themselves. The games don’t cost anything to play, so if anyone wants to quench his competitive spirit, they are more than encouraged!”

“Then I’d like to try, please!” Junhui volunteers. 

“Good lad!” he praises, clearing the space for Junhui and handing him a pair of miniature bow and arrow. Then he steps to the side, watching the handsome blond pick up the instrument to inspect it.

“Have you ever shot a bow before?” Wonwoo wonders.

“Of course!” Junhui laughs, “Although none of them were this tiny. Let’s put all the years of practice to the test!”

Holding the bow with sure hands, he feeds the arrow between his fingers, pointing it toward the board. He rolls his shoulders, attention strained on the target. His eyes are sharp, his expression serious as he concentrates. Wonwoo has a difficult time deciding if he likes happy and excited Junhui, or earnest and focused Junhui more. 

The prince inhales, pulling the string back. When he lets go, the arrow flies through the air and hits the target right in the center. The merchant cheers, and Junhui returns to the excited little kid that Wonwoo’s used to. Grinning at Wonwoo proudly, he picks up the next arrow and shoots. In less than thirty seconds, all six arrows protrude from the boards.

“Wow!” Wonwoo claps. “That was amazing!”

Chuckling, Junhui puts the bow back on the table, sheepish smile tugging the corners of his lips. “Thank you.”

“Congratulations!” the merchant pats him on the shoulder and hands him a ticket. “Enjoy!”

The boys thank him and bow before heading off to claim their prize.

“That was fun!” the blond exclaims as they get in line. “Let’s eat and then we’ll go find Hoshi.”

Wonwoo agrees with a nod, the bubbly excitement dwindling down to worry as he glimpses at the black strap around Junhui’s wrist. Still, he doesn’t mention anything as Junhui tugs him forward, their hands still connected.

As it turns out, finding Hoshi among the crowd isn’t a problem at all. As Wonwoo and Junhui make their way to the stage, an announcement is made that the Prince himself will perform within a few minutes. The boys share a thrilled and relieved look as they wait, swaying to the music of the band on stage. The minutes tick by, and with them come the crowd. Wonwoo feels himself being shoved whichever way as people struggle to find a good spot to watch. 

Just as he finds his footing, Junhui falls onto his side, making the both of the scramble. 

“I’m sorry!” Junhui apologizes with worry, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he assures the blond, craning his neck behind Junhui’s head. He scowls at the rude crowd, tugging gently on his companion’s wrist. “Come here.” Placing Junhui in front of him, he wraps his arms around the other’s waist. 

He thought the position would make them more stable, but now his heartbeat is anything but. His hands are trembling as he fists them into Junhui’s shirt. Moreover, it doesn’t help his nerves that the prince giggles and rests his own hands over Wonwoo’s.

“You’re so warm,” Junhui says happily with a bright smile, moving them to and fro along the rhythm of the song. 

To hide the blush, and hopefully quiet down his heart, he buries his face into the prince’s shoulder. His thoughts spin around, finding something other than how perfect Junhui fits in his embrace, how nice it feels to hold him like this, how much he likes hearing the soft laughter. When the black strap on Junhui’s wrist rubs against his hand, he feels an icy chill run down his spine. Instead of calming him down, though, it causes Wonwoo to tighten his hold around Junhui. His heart squeezes painfully, and he doesn’t let go. Not even when the famous Hoshi comes on stage.

Wonwoo barely registers the dancing man running out toward the crowd with flourish, wearing the brightest red shoes anyone had ever seen. Junhui, on the other hand, is very excited as he cheers along to the intricate, yet graceful moves. The applause and screams from the crowd around them are deafening. Obviously, these people love their prince very much.

At the end of the performance, Hoshi comes to the front of the platform to bow and say a few words to the townspeople, grinning wide, sweat dripping from his temples. But despite his exhaustion and shortness of breath, he looks like the happiest man in the world as he beams at the mass, taking all of their love in. He bows, receiving even more applause. 

Before he exists, though, Junhui's excessive waving—which almost takes out Wonwoo’s eye—successfully catches his attention. Hoshi’s eyes widen for a second as recognition flashes, followed by another wide grin. He points to the side of the stage, then runs back. 

“Come on!” Junhui grabs Wonwoo’s hand, lacing their fingers together again, then leads him away, navigating the crowd that’s starting to sing along to the next performer.

They come to meet with the dark haired prince as the latter runs down the sidesteps, wiping his face with a towel.

“Junnie!” he calls. “What are you doing here? Wait, I thought, you went missing! When did you—Where—HOW?!”

Junhui laughs at the excessive questions and the dancer’s confused expression, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “That’s sort of why I came to see you, Soonyoung. I need your help.”

“Anything you need, if it’s within my power, I’ll help!”

Junhui beams, and hope starts to bloom in Wonwoo’s chest. Gradually, Junhui tells his friend about their misadventure, introducing Wonwoo as his savior—which doesn’t fail to make the apprentice blush—and finally, he asks if Hoshi would be willing to marry the goddaughter.

Hoshi, or Soonyoung as Junhui calls him, scratches his hair as a complicated expression takes over. “Marry her, huh? I don’t know…” He grimaces, clearly conflicted over the situation. “I mean, I’m fifth in line to become the future ruler. That’s why I took this on,” he gestures around them to indicate the festival. “There’s nothing I love more than dancing, so it wouldn’t be fair if I married her.”

“I understand,” Junhui answers, attempting to hide the disappointment in his voice by smiling. “You could have certainly bonded over your peculiar taste in footwear,” he kids, tilting his chin toward the very bright red shoes.

The comment makes Soonyoung laugh. “They’re magic shoes, actually,” he informs them. “They give me energy to perform at my best.”

“I never knew you needed help on that front,” Junhui teases. “You’ve always been bouncing off the walls.”

“That’s true,” the other agrees with a grin, eyes squinted to slits. “But I wouldn’t be able to dance without them, or be as good, either.”

“Nah, don’t say that. You’re a great dancer. It’s your passion that makes it possible, not the shoes.”

Soonyoung chuckles, nodding. “Thanks, but I think I’ll keep them anyway.” To show his point, he spins around and twists his feet through a quick series of complicated moves. “They draw quite the attention!”

“I agree.”

“So, what are you two going to do?” he wonders, glimpsing at them with slight worry. 

Junhui shrugs. “We still have a week left before the deadline. I’m sure we can find more people to ask, and if worst comes to worst, well…” He shrugs again, flashing a sheepish smile. “I guess I’ll be reasonable and marry her.”

Wonwoo’s insides twist painfully at the comment, and his face crumbles. Is that why Junhui had been so distracted? Was this what he was pondering alone last night? Wonwoo had wondered why he didn’t seem as anxious. Apparently it’s because he’s already come to a decision to give in. He’s chosen to accept his fate and resort to the possibility of marrying someone he didn’t love.

That doesn’t sit well with Wonwoo.

Which is exactly what he tells him that night as they share a room in the inn that Soonyoung insisted on. 

Tossing to lie on his side, he glimpses at Junhui profile. The prince’s face is illuminated by the dim glimmer of the fire, shadows casting sharp angles over his features. He looks very calm, his face is smooth. But Wonwoo spies the slight tremble in the hands clasped over his stomach. Without thinking of the consequences, he reaches over and steadies them.

The action draws Junhui’s gaze toward him, and the boys stare at each other for a moment. Wonwoo feels himself falling, deeper and deeper into those swirling pools, sucked in by the honest and kind aura. He feels pleasantly warm, and even though his insides have been replaced by butterflies, there is a strange sense of peacefulness overtaking his senses. A sensation of contentment to simply lay next to Junhui. 

Is this what it feels like to fall in love?

“Don’t you want to marry someone you love?” he asks instead.

Junhui blinks slowly, a gentle smile blooming on his face. “Of course, but I can’t be selfish.”

“Wanting to find happiness isn’t being selfish,” Wonwoo points out. “You can’t give up yet.”

“There’s so little time left,” the other laments. “We’ve already met six people, all happy with their lives. Maybe I’m the problem.” He heaves a sigh, shifting to match Wonwoo’s position, their hands falling to the floor in between them. “Thank you for coming along with me, though. And for pulling me out of the well.” A smile stretches over the full lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Junhui hooks his pinky finger with Wonwoo’s. “You’re a wonderful person, and I would hate to see you fall victim to that evil woman. Especially if my selfishness is the cause. If we can't find anyone, I'd rather marry her than let you be the witch's servant.” 

The latter swallows, forcing his brain to come up with something to say to ease Junhui’s tension, to erase that beautifully sad smile from his face. He wants to hear him laugh, to see blush on his cheeks when Wonwoo makes a joke. He wants to see him happy.

“I’m not giving up,” Wonwoo vows. “A week might not be very long, but I’m not returning you to that witch before then, if ever. We’ll find a solution somehow.”

There’s another smile, this one a lot closer to the usual brilliant smile that Wonwoo has come to adore. It’s hopeful. “I trust you.” He tightens his hold on their hands. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” 

His heart clenches at those words, but he smiles regardless. “Go to sleep. A new day and new opportunities await us tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Junhui grins, nodding. “Goodnight, Wonwoo.”

“Goodnight, Junhui.”

____________________________

“Welcome to DDK’s Treasure Trove!” an enthusiastic boy greets them, smiling brightly with cheerfulness.

“Anything you desire, we’re sure to have it!” another boy, younger, adds from behind the counter.

The apprentice and his prince have been traveling for several days now, and they’ve only managed to run into farmers and fishermen. When they explained their woes, a few helpful people had guided them to this corner of the kingdom, where apparently two heroes had managed to defeat an evil giant and brought back all sorts of treasures. Now that Wonwoo and Junhui are standing in their shop, the anecdotes don’t seem so far fetched.

There’s a lot of trinkets around the shelves and lining the walls, ranging from musical instruments to gems and jewelry. A few pens out back even contained magical animals, apparently. The boys are staring in awe at the mountains of extraordinary objects, eyes wide in wonder, jaws slacks.

The shop owners give them time, waiting patiently with friendly smiles.

As Wonwoo scans the walls, something occurs to him. The shop isn’t built like normal buildings. Turning to the boys behind the counter, he ventures, “Are we standing inside some sort of tree or something?”

The shorter of the two nods. “You are correct! This used to be a beanstalk.”

“A beanstalk?” Junhui echoes with disbelief, taking a closer look. “That’s incredible!”

The boy with the bright grin—Seokmin, he said his name is—nods. “Isn’t it? I could hardly believe it, and I was right next to Chan when he planted it!” 

“So then,” Wonwoo guesses, “Is that how you found the giant?”

They both nod. “Originally, it was purely luck,” Chan explains. “I met Seokmin at the market square. He looked just as dejected as I felt, so we got to talking.”

At this topic, Seokmin deflates a little. “My father turned me out, saying I wasn’t good with anything besides singing and goofing off. He told me to only come back once I had managed to accomplish something significant.”

“Your own father issued you a quest?” Junhui repeats. “How mean!”

“Mhm,” Seokmin nods sadly. “But I should maybe thank him, because that’s how I met Channie!”

The younger boy laughs. “I wasn’t doing so well, either. Some man had just traded my only cow for ‘magical beans’. But when I showed them to my mom, she yelled at me, saying they were just regular beans. So she turned me out, saying I couldn’t come home until I figured out a way to get back our cow. Shortly after, I met Seokmin, and we decided to start a bean farm.”

“We had no idea one them would grow into this!” he spreads his arms out to encompass the whole shop. “Without anything to do, we started to climb it. And that’s where we met the giant.”

“He was so mean!” Chan complained. “We didn’t want to defeat him or anything, we just wanted to strike up a conversation. But then he tried to catch us and squash us.”

“Yikes!” Junhui exclaims. “I’m glad you were uninjured.”

The boys nod. “We used our wits, well,” at this, Chan throws a quick look toward the unassuming Seokmin. “‘Our’ is a little generous,” he mutters. “But anyway,” he smiles brightly. “We used our size to our advantage! While Seokmin distracted him with his singing, I ran into his vault and found sleeping powder, which I slipped into his drink. He went out like a light!” He snaps his fingers, grinning proudly. 

“Chan is such a brave little boy!” Seokmin praises, ruffling the younger’s hair, which causes the latter to scowl and yank his head out.

“I’m not a little boy!” he cries, but the petulance in his tone makes Wonwoo and Junhui chuckle lightly under their breaths. “So that’s our story!” he resumes as he brushes out his hair. “What about you two?”

“Well…” Wonwoo finds himself retelling their adventures once more, watching the expressions of their new friends turning more somber by the second.

Chan heaves a sigh, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Prince Junhui,” he says. “We don’t exactly have available single princes in stock.”

The comment is so ridiculous yet earnest, it prompts Junhui to burst into laughter, reaching over the counter to pat the young boy’s shoulder. “It’s okay, you don’t have to look so sad.”

“I wouldn’t mind marrying her,” Seokmin reflects with seriousness, but Chan turns to him and shakes his head.

“She wants to marry a prince, not a singing fool.”

Instead of taking offense, he actually laughs and nods. “I suppose you are right!”

The lighthearted and innocent response makes everyone but the apprentice chuckle.

Wonwoo can’t bring himself to find his sense of humor. At this rate, Junhui will sacrifice his own happiness in order to protect Wonwoo from a fate of servitude. They have less than three days left. He needs to come up with a solution before then.

While he’s still pondering the issue with a hand cupping his chin, someone enters the shop. All heads spin toward the new arrival to see a short boy about their age with purple hair peeking out from his hat. He wears an air of purposefulness as he marches up to the counter. His aura is so intimidating, Wonwoo and Junhui immediately scoot over to make room for him. 

The purple-haired boy glimpses at them briefly, before stopping in front of Chan. “I need my flute,” he says curtly.

“Aw, Jihoon,” Seokmin makes a face. “Maybe you should try to talk to them instead of driving them away every time.”

“Thank you for the unnecessary and unsolicited input,” he retorts, snapping his fingers toward the shelf. “Now give me the flute.”

“Okay, okay,” Chan relents under the piercing glare. “But for all it’s worth, I think Seokmin is right this time.” The boy hands him an old wooden flute. “There’s nothing wrong with making friends.”

“I don’t want to make friends,” Jihoon mutters. “I want to be left alone in silence to concentrate on my music.”

“Are they really that bad, though?”

He receives another glare for his question. “Day in and day out, all they do is argue! I’ve had enough. I’m going to drive them away, and if they know what’s good for them, they’ll stay away before I direct them down a cliff.”

Junhui sucks in an audible gasp, prompting Jihoon to turn to him. He finally looks at them properly, shifting his scrutiny over their shocked faces. Then something flickers in his eyes. 

“Aren’t you that missing prince?” he wants to know. “What are you doing here?”

The supposed lost prince blinks. “You know who I am?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Your posters have been everywhere. Anyway, what are you doing? Playing hooky?”

“Not… exactly,” Junhui answers, scratching his ear as he chews on his lip. 

“Then what? Are you hiding from your fiancée or something?” he scoffs. When he’s met with nothing but silence, he blinks. “What?”

Junhui fidgets, and Wonwoo sighs, rubbing his face tiredly.

“The poor prince is being forced into marrying her by an evil witch!” Seokmin explains. “Or he’ll risk being trapped down a well. Again. They’re trying to find volunteers to marry her instead.”

Jihoon lifts a brow, eyeing the prince. “I see. Well, I’m not gonna marry her, but I might be able to help with the witch.”

“How?”

The musician waves the flute in the air with a sly smile. “I was going to use this to make the idiots around my house shut up, but I could just as well send that witch over a cliff.”

Junhui’s eyes widen. “Thank you, but uh… That won’t be necessary,” he says quickly. “I don’t want anyone to die.” 

The other merely shrugs. “Suit yourself. Too damn softhearted,” he mutters as he turns to leave. At the last minute, though, he stops and looks for Junhui again. He heaves a sigh as if it’s a chore he’d rather not do. Which might actually be the case. “The two idiots around my house have apparently found a way to break a curse. If you want, I can take you to them, and they might have an idea on how to help with your problems.”

“Really?” Junhui exclaims with pure excitement. “Thank you, Jihoon!”

“Yeah, yeah,” the shorter of the two mumbles as he waves at the shop owners and lets Wonwoo and Junhui follow him out.

Wonwoo isn’t sure what to make of the apparent grump, but he can’t say that he doesn’t let his hope grow a little bit at the prospect of finding a solution that won’t involve murder or Junhui marrying the goddaughter.

The sun is glaring by the time they exit the shop, and Wonwoo squints his eyes at the harsh rays. Next to him, he notes movements and turns to see Junhui slip off his tunic. Wonwoo tries not to stare at the well-defined arm muscles as the prince wriggles with the outer shirt. Then to Wonwoo’s surprise, he reaches over and set the fabric over the apprentice’s head as a makeshift hat. 

Grinning, he studies his handiwork with pride, toothy grin and all. Wonwoo’s cheeks are warm, and he blames the sun instead of his reaction to Junhui’s actions.

“Better?”

He nods. “Thanks.”

Junhui beams, eyes squinting in delight. 

They walk in silence for a while, aside from Junhui’s low humming to a song Wonwoo vaguely finds familiar. But before he can determine what it is, the prince has already been distracted by a butterfly. Acting very much like a kitten seeing the fluttering and colorful wings for the first time, he sets off after it, giggling to himself. Wonwoo shakes his head, but he finds himself smiling indulgently at the endearing sight.

Out in the front, Jihoon’s voice rings out without the owner looking his way; he’s also staring at Junhui a few yards ahead of them. “So are you his knight or something?”

Wonwoo shakes his head, then realizes he won’t be seen, so he matches his pace to the other. “No, I just walked by and found him in the well.”

“And you just volunteered to help?”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t anyone?”

“No,” Jihoon replies right away. “Most people would have walked away. Too much trouble.” The shorter boy inclines his head to stare at Wonwoo, eyes narrowed into slits due to the sun. “What’s in it for you?”

Wonwoo blinks, unsure. “What do you mean?”

The other rolls his eyes, but he doesn't elaborate. After a short pause, he states, “He has no idea you’re in love with him, doesn't he?”

Wonwoo chokes on his own spit, eyes darting to the front. Thankfully, Junhui is too busy staring at a ladybug climbing onto a rose to pay them any attention. “I, uh…” he stammers, unable to make his brain work. Unconsciously, he wipes his clammy hands over the front of his pants. He swallows. “It wouldn’t make any difference anyway.” 

“You’d be surprised,” Jihoon says cryptically. “It’s not for nothing that Love is dubbed the most powerful magic of all the lands.”

Wonwoo doesn’t get a chance to reply or mull over the words, because Junhui comes bouncing back toward them. 

His cheeks are flushed from the sprint, his eyes sparkling, his laugh lilting. A few errant flower petals are embedded in his soft locks, and Wonwoo cracks a smile as he tries to pick them out. The task proves difficult when Junhui throws an arm around him and leans in close, nestling against the crook of his shoulder. Wonwoo never knew that a person could personify sunshine and bliss until he met Prince Junhui.

The pair is too preoccupied with each other, they don’t notice the tiny, almost indiscernible, grin forming at the corner of Jihoon’s mouth as he guides the clueless couple toward their destination.

They hear the quarreling even before they see their new acquaintances’ faces. Jihoon groans and heaves a sigh as he rolls his eyes. Junhui and Wonwoo glance at each other.

“I told you already,” the first voice says with irritation. “No.”

“But Minghao,” the second whines, “I’m hungry!”

“I don’t care. You were supposed to eat before we left.”

“Well, I wasn’t hungry then,” he says, an air of sulk in his voice. “Just let me have a cookie.” There’s a sharp slap, followed by a howl of pain. “Ow! That was uncalled for!”

“What part of ‘not yours’ don’t you understand?” Minghao asks. “We’re supposed to deliver this to old Mrs. Han.”

Finally, the travelers emerge from around the bend to see two other boys on the same path. The one wearing a red shirt is clutching a basket, scowling at the taller male, who’s frowning and making puppy eyes at the other. If he had a tail and ears, they would be drooping.

“She won’t notice one cookie missing,” the oversized puppy points out. “You’d rather let me die of famine?”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “Maybe you’d prefer a knuckle sandwich?” He raises his closed fist toward the other one threateningly, but his companion purses his bottom lip and clings to him instead.

Wonwoo expects Minghao to scoff or push him off. Instead, to everyone’s surprise aside from Jihoon, the boy in the red shirt reaches up and pats the other’s arm in an exasperated, but affectionate manner, looking away to hide the gentle smile.

“Ahem!”

At Jihoon’s loud and exaggerated voice, the two spring apart to look toward the source. When they see him, along with his guests, they offer a small wave.

“Do us all a favor and make yourselves useful for once,” the musician grumbles.

“We’re always useful!” the puppy cries with indignation. 

“What’s going on?” Minghao wants to know, switching the basket to his other hand to keep the contents away from the hungry boy.

With a hand gestured toward Wonwoo and Junhui, Jihoon explains, “They have concerns and problems about a witch. I told them you and Mingyu have experience with breaking curses. Help them out.”

While Mingyu agrees with a cheerful smile and enthusiastic nod, Minghao isn’t as inclined. “I’d love to, but we gotta deliver this,” he points to the basket. “Or Mrs. Han will have my head.”

“Oh come on, Hao.” He nudges his arm. “Let’s just hear them out.”

The latter throws him a look, but ends up relenting. “Fine. What’s your problem?”

For the nth time, Wonwoo finds himself retelling the story. 

“How terrible!” Mingyu exclaims.

“But that’s not exactly a curse, though,” Minghao says. “Sounds like you chew off more than you could swallow.” 

Junhui sighs; Wonwoo scowls.

“What happened to you then? What was your curse?” the latter wants to know.

Shooting a look at Mingyu, he mumbles, “Getting attached to him.”

“Hey!” the other swats his arm. 

The other is undeterred. “It all started when I was making a delivery from the bakery to Mrs. Han. I was minding my own business when I noticed someone following me. It was annoying. Turns out, it was a lost wolf pup. No matter how much I shooed it away—even throwing rocks near it to scare it off—it would still follow me. So after I made the delivery, I took it home.” He shrugs. “Ended up with a pet wolf for a few weeks. And then one day, suddenly, poof! The puppy just transformed into this idiot.”

“Stop being mean to me!” Mingyu cries, successfully dodging out of Minghao’s attempt to flick his forehead, “Also, what do you mean ‘suddenly’?” He eyes him with a raise brow. “It’s because you ki—”

With bulging eyes and faintly pink cheeks, Minghao clasps his hand over the taller boy’s mouth, forcing him to swallow whatever he was about to say. 

“Kicked, yes,” he talks over Mingyu’s muffled protests. “I tried to kick him out of my house a few times because he kept going into the kitchen and mess everything up.” A nervous chuckle escapes. “Like I said, your problem is pretty different from what happened with us. Sorry, can’t really help you. Okay, gotta go now. Bye!”

With lightning speed, he waves and grabs Mingyu’s arm to yank him away.

The brunet barely has time to turn around and wave at them before he’s all but swept off of his feet as Minghao drags him away. In less than ten seconds, the couple disappears behind the trees.

Junhui blinks, turning to look at Wonwoo and Jihoon in turns.

The musician sighs for what feels like the hundred times that day. “Idiots. But at least they’re gone, and I have my silence back.”

“I’m not sure we learned anything from the encounter,” Wonwoo mutters. “Thanks, anyway.”

Instead of turning away and leave like Wonwoo expects, Jihoon shoots him a look. “Remember what I told you earlier.” He jabs a finger into Wonwoo’s chest, right where his heart would be. The apprentice winces from the pain and wracks his brain for what Jihoon means. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees Junhui studying them with a curious look. He could almost see question marks floating around his head like a crown.

“Uh… right,” Wonwoo stammers. “I’ll, uh, I’ll remember… that…” Whatever that is. 

Jihoon jerks his head once, setting his mouth into a thin line as he backs away. “Better do it fast. The next full moon is only a couple nights away.”

“You don’t have to remind me…” 

“What did Jihoon mean earlier?” Junhui inquires quietly. 

Wonwoo shifts his arm to wrap it around the prince’s shoulder, setting his head more comfortably on his chest. He rests his cheek over the soft blond locks. “He told me Love is the most powerful magic of all.”

Junhui laughs softly. “I don’t think we have time to find bottled Love.”

A smile tugs a corner of Wonwoo’s lips, but he can’t bring himself to accomplish more than that. A heavy mass—failure and hopelessness—weighs his whole body down. 

They’re sitting in Jihoon’s backyard, leaning up against an apple tree. It’s a beautiful afternoon, but it might have been pouring for all the good the weather is doing to Wonwoo's mood. His heart feels like a lump of coal. Lazily, he seeks Junhui’s hand, and he rubs his thumb over the knuckles. This may be the last time he’ll ever get the chance to sit this close to him, much less touch him like this. 

His chest constricts when he thinks about how Junhui will become someone else’s husband in mere days. Just the thought of it brings forth a pain so different from stubbing your toe or scraping your knee. It’s poignant and all-consuming. It makes it hard to breathe properly, and all he wants to do is squeeze Junhui closer to him as if it would keep him from having to leave.

With a humorless wry laugh, he finally understands why people have blamed Love for their suffering. Over the past couple weeks, he’s known more joy than in his entire life. And now he’s tasting the bitterness of heartache. Was it all worth it, though?

When Junhui shifts in his arms to glance up and flash him a dazzling smile, he thinks it was. 

He’d rather go through the pain now after savoring the sweetness of Love, than going through his whole life without knowing it at all.

Junhui’s gentle gaze settles over him as the prince studies his expression. Playfully, he reaches up to poke at Wonwoo’s cheek. 

“Don’t make that face,” he whispers. “It’s okay.” He smiles.

“But it’s not, though.”

Their fingers lace together as Junhui insists, “Don’t blame yourself. I don’t regret a second of it. Thanks to you, I got to experience so many wonderful things and met very different and interesting people,” he giggles, and Wonwoo can’t help himself from smiling in response. “More than that, though, I got to meet you.” Here his cheeks turn pink, but he keeps his gaze steady. “I’m going to miss you, Wonwoo.”

It feels like a spear has pierced his chest as he sucks in a breath. “Me, too.” His voice is small, whispered against Junhui’s hair as he pulls him even closer to his side. 

“Will you come visit me at the castle?”

Wonwoo forces his throat to unclench, twisting his tongue to form the loathsome words. “I don’t think your wife would appreciate that.” 

Junhui stirs, dissatisfied. “Why not?”

Because I’m in love with you, silly. “Wouldn’t she be sad if you spend more time with your friend than with her?” he replies aloud, never before hating the term ‘friend’ as much as he does now.

For some reason, Junhui picks up on that. “Are we friends?”

“Of course,” he says quickly. Perhaps too quickly.

“Oh.”

A pause. His heart stops.

“Aren’t we?” he squeaks, heart pumping again, only to hammer so hard against his chest, he’s certain Junhui can tell from where his ear is pressed.

Slowly, the prince lifts his head to look at Wonwoo straight on. Instead of answering the question, he asks one of his own, “How do you know if you’re in love?”

Breath hitching, he attempts to control the erratic movements in his chest and stomach. He swallows, then opens his mouth to speak. “I think… When it feels like there’s a million butterflies in your stomach, and your heart skips beats like it’s playing hopscotch. You get incredibly happy when you see the other person, even while they’re not doing anything. Everything they do looks beautiful, and you never want to be apart from them. You want to do everything for them, even if it means troubling yourself in the process.” He lets out a shuddering breath, amazed that his voice has been able to sound so stable. Heart pounding, he wets his dry lips. “I think that’s what it feel like… being in love.”

Large eyes gaze at him, as their owner bites his lip. Wonwoo can’t stop staring. Junhui takes in a breath, releasing the pink and full lip to proclaim, “Then I don’t think we’re friends.”

Wonwoo blinks. Is the blood rushing by his ears impairing his hearing?

By the way Junhui’s cheeks are flushed, he’s pretty sure he’s heard him right. But in that case… 

“Junhui?” he calls softly.

The prince has lowered his face shyly. Wonwoo steadies the tremors in his body to gently pinch the blond's chin and lift it upward to see him. Junhui glances up from beneath thick lashes, eyes wet. Wonwoo is ready to combust. Even more so when the other starts to speak.

“I… I think I love you.”

Wonwoo’s heart is soaring, and he’s not even conscious of his mouth stretching into the widest smile ever. A delighted and ecstatic laugh bubbles out of his throat. He allows his heart a few seconds of reprieve as his thumb caresses Junhui’s cheek.

“I love you, too,” he confesses, watching a beautiful grin bloom on the prince’s handsome face.

The boys keep grinning as they stare at each other, erratic heartbeats in sync, matching blushing cheeks, fingers laced together. In that moment, there is no thought spared for the goddaughter nor the witch. There is only Junhui and Wonwoo. Just them in their own little world, marveling at the not quite new thrilling feelings rushing through them.

Gradually, they grow closer, pulled together by an invisible, but unyielding force. Wonwoo cups a hand around Junhui’s face, and before long, he feels the soft brush of lips against his own. 

The kiss is chaste and innocent at first, hesitant as both parties fight the tingling sensation shooting through their limbs. But very soon, confidence builds, and the kiss deepens. Wonwoo feels himself swimming in an ocean of euphoria and elation that is Prince Junhui, ready to drown in the emotions at any moment without regrets. 

The pad of his thumb locates a pulse point along the sharp jaw, and he keeps it there, finding comfort in the steady rhythm. He feels Junhui’s fingers racking through the hair at the back of his head, winding inward to keep him in place. He moans at the sensation, and Junhui grins into their kiss. Wonwoo trails a hand down to his hip and squeezes once, before pulling him over his thighs. The resulting friction causes Junhui to gasps, and Wonwoo uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into the parted lips.

The heated moment isn’t broken until they feel something falling into Junhui’s lap.

Pulling away with reluctance, they breathe out raggedly, the prince’s hand curled around Wonwoo’s neck and the latter’s grip on his waist tightening. They inspect the object. Surprise flickers across their expressions as they realize what the black object is.

Wonwoo tugs on Junhui’s wrist. Sure enough, the black strap is missing. Because it’s come undone and sitting in between them right now.

“How is this possible?” the previous bracelet bearer asks, hand grazing the leather.

“I don’t know,” the brunet answers as he looks from the strap to the empty wrist, thumb stroking the soft underside. “But this means—”

A violent, but familiar, whirlwind blows through the yard. Wonwoo immediately grabs Junhui and presses him against his body. In the same second, the prince raises his arms to protect the latter’s head, tucking him against his own neck.

“You scheming wretches!” the shrieking voice of the witch rings out.

The boys uncurl themselves around each other and get to their feet, hands joined and ready to face her.

She is livid as she glowers at them. “You—How did you manage to defeat me?!” she screams hysterically.

"It doesn't matter how!" Wonwoo shouts back. "Junhui isn't going back to that well. Regardless of what you do to him, I'm still going to find him."

Junhui squeezes his hand once, then speaks up as well, his voice shaky with fear, but he doesn't back down. "I don't love her. You must see that making us marry will only bring us misery. Please just give her a comfortable life. She doesn't need to become my wife for that."

Fuming indignantly, she grits her teeth as she glares at them with fury and hatred. "You think you can stand there and lecture me?" She barks out a bitter laugh. “I won’t stand for this!” Pointing her wand at them, she mutters some sort of magic spell and flicks her wrist.

The boys freeze, shutting their eyes in expectation of the impact of the spell. 

But nothing happens.

They crack their eyelids to see her seething, shouting out bafflement and incredulous remarks. She narrows her eyes and repeats the spell, but once again, nothing happens. 

“This is impossible!” she shouts, checking her wand. “Nothing is as powerful as my magic! Nothing, except—”

“True Love.”

All three heads spin toward the direction of the voice. Jihoon is leaning against his open backdoor, wearing a smug look on his face. In his hand, he’s tapping out the flute against his palm as he eyes her. 

“You lost, witchy,” he taunts. “Your magic can't do anything to them anymore. Now get out of here before I drive you off the nearest cliff. And trust me, I’ll make sure that one has sharp rocks at the bottom.” He waves the flute, grinning with squinted eyes like the most adorable devil in existence.

She huffs, flinging her robes. “Don’t think you’ve seen the last of me!”

“Don’t forget to remove that girl from the castle,” Jihoon adds just as she readies to call forth another tempest to carry her off. 

The witch growls and narrows her eyes, but she’s unable to find any retort to throw back at him. As a result, she resorts to running away.

Once the dust settles, Wonwoo and his prince let out relieved sighs and turn to a smirking Jihoon. 

“Thank you,” Junhui says gratefully. “I had never seen her fear anyone like that before.”

The musician merely shrugs, but he’s greatly satisfied by the feat.

Wonwoo speaks up next, completely impressed, “You were right, Jihoon! Love is the most powerful magic of all!”

“Of course,” he answers. “I’m always right.”

The prince and apprentice laugh, full of mirth and appreciation for their new friend. 

“By the way,” Jihoon says casually, “I expect the best seat at the wedding.”

The loving couple nods, but they glance away with matching blushing cheeks and sheepish grins. The musician snickers and turns around to go back inside. He figures the lovebirds would want some time alone before he calls them in for dinner.

Alone again, they face each other with lighthearted grins. Both of them are free now. 

“It’s not exactly how I envisioned it, but we did it!” Junhui cheers with a giggle, waving their entangled arms in the air, and Wonwoo laughs along, completely endeared by the lovely sound.

He squeezes the blond’s hand, pulling him close. “You said you’d give me a reward if I succeeded, right?” he teases. 

Junhui nods with a laugh, completely sincere as he stares back. “Mhm. Anything you want!”

Wonwoo’s grin widens as he reaches up to cup the other’s cheek. “Can I keep you?”

To answer the silly question, Junhui laughs and leans forward to seal their lips together.

____________________________

It’s a week after their adventures. The Crowned Prince has finally found his prince. The whole country is buzzing with excitement as posters and announcements are made about the upcoming wedding, which the whole kingdom is invited to. Everyone has heard of the tale by now. A resourceful, kind and courageous apprentice had found and rescued the missing prince from a witch’s prison. Not fearing her wrath, the boy had bravely accept her challenge and combed the entire land in search of what she desired, meeting many helpful friends along the way. In the end, when all hope seemed lost, they defeated her with True Love’s Kiss. Despite the fact that he is a mere commoner, the prince has not hesitated to give an answer when he was asked to marry him. True Love, as they say, conquers all.

All wells that ends well.