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The oldest souls in the Kingdom of Wimborne would struggle to remember anyone brave enough to walk into the darkness of Larnwick forest. It has been always said only death and misery await for those who disrupt the eerie peacefulness of those tall pines and creatures who lurk in the shadows. There are legends, stories passed down from generations back, about knights and princes and peasants who were brave enough, or foolish enough, to attempt to explore the mystery that is the forest and hope they would live to tell the tale. None of them came back. Not a single soul.
Zayn never quite believed those stories. Ever since he was a child, everyone around him warned him about the evil forest just a few miles behind the castle. The royal hunts always took place as far away from there as they could, if he went on rides with other people, they turned their horses before they could even glance at the treeline. From an early age, he was baffled by everyone’s fear of the Larnwick forest because people weren’t scared of it whole, they were frightened only by a certain part that lined the seam where mountains and fields of grass and trees met. What’s more, he considered it a myth. Perhaps the royal treasury was there, he used to think, or some secret that must be hidden from the kingdom or from everyone.
Something nearly changed his mind. When he was around nineteen, he wandered off too deep into the forest when he was on a ride alone. Nothing around the place where he hopped off his horse was familiar. The trees we thicker, taller and it seemed to get darker and darker as far as he could see. Then there was just darkness as if the trees had stopped and were replaced by a black wall that seemed to reach the sky. It was foolish of him to walk closer, his horse led to walk by his side, especially since he was alone. The nearer he got to the seemingly dark nothingness, the more he could actually see. It wasn’t a wall, it was just the forest but it was so dark that one couldn’t see past two rows of trees. Then it hit him – this was the Larnwick forest. The terrifying legend used to scare children. A place so dangerous not even the bravest warriors and war heroes would dream about going there.
He didn’t go in. It was tempting, of course, it was, but he didn’t feel like dying just yet. When he saw the darkness, his scepticism left him for a good while. He didn’t dare to come near that place again.
The fear dissipated in a few weeks and curiosity took over. Zayn was restless, he tried to find any legitimate information about the forest that wasn’t tales for children who misbehaved but the castle’s library didn’t help him at all. So he decided to see for himself and went back, never going fully in, always staying at the very edge, trying to see anything that would give up the forest’s secrets.
On his third visit to the Larnwick forest’s edge, he heard music. A tune and a voice so beautiful he thought he was dreaming. Alluring, calming, as if it was trying to lure him in. He couldn’t see the source of it anywhere and his heart started beating hard in his chest at the realization that the voice sounded sort of human. He couldn’t wrap his head around it so in a panic, he jumped on his horse and got to the castle faster than ever.
After two weeks, he came back and heard the singing again. This time, the worry about the voice being human slipped away from him. As if it didn’t matter at all where it came from. Who knows? And who cares? It was beautiful, lovelier than a song from the best singer in all of the Kingdom. He didn’t wonder about the song’s origins, he just wanted to hear more and more of it. So he kept coming back. Sometimes with books, sometimes with a canvas and paint. No one would find him there. He had the peace that was impossible to find at court and the time to think about all his princely duties, about the fact that he’s got just a few years of boyish foolishness before he had to replace his father and become the King, become who he was born to be. Overthink the terrifying fact that then his actions will have consequences that will impact the whole Kingdom, thousands and thousands of people whose lives he will be responsible for. If he fucks up now, he’ll get scolded and lectured but when he’s King? Nothing at all with be as simple anymore.
Inevitably, Zayn walks into the forest one day. It’s not really a conscious choice, it’s not curiosity or the desire to uncover the forest’s secrets. It’s not the songs either.
It happens on a rare quiet day where his time near Larnwick forest’s edge isn’t enveloped by music that is better than any spoken word or song in the whole of the Kingdom. The skies were particularly blue and he had no desire to get back to the castle and attend another party and shake hands with foreign dignitaries and be introduced to his “potential Queens”. He brought his dog Nala with him and as Zayn just laid on the grass reading, she grew tired of sniffling around and bolted straight for the darkness between the trees. Before he could catch her, Nala, usually a perfectly behaved and obedient dog, had already disappeared in the thick black mist that slithered around the trees.
Zayn allows himself about two seconds of hesitation before he runs after her. It’s not like he has a choice, Nala has basically grown up with him. He’s had her for years and now he can’t just abandon her and let her run around a forest that is said to be so deadly, no one had ever lived to tell the tale of what lurks around the trees in this dark place.
“Nala!” he shouts into the darkness despite his better judgement. It would probably be better to stay as quiet as possible but at the same time, it wouldn’t hurt if Nala came back and they could turn around right away, leaving the forest and its secrets behind.
There’s not a sight of her and the trees just get thicker and thicker with every few steps he takes. The darkness reminds Zayn of the blackest nights, ones where the moon is hidden and stars barely provide any illumination. The air is heavy, thick with the smell of trees tinged with the earthy fragrance of a wet forest floor, with its damp leaves and moss growing over the trunks of trees. He can barely see anything, just shadows and the odd ray of frail sunlight.
After a few more meters, the darkness seems to thin out. The sunlight bounces off the trees and lights his way through the maze of massive tree trunks. Then suddenly, the trees just stop. Sunlight takes over completely and Zayn finds himself on a clearing, staring straight at the spotless blue sky. The grass looks incredibly soft and is peppered with flowers whose colours are so vibrant they don’t even seem real. A white butterfly flies past him and curiously stops and just hovers in front of Zayn, as if it was looking at him. He tries to outstretch his arm so the butterfly could land on his hand and it does. It perches itself on Zayn’s knuckle, calmly flapping its wings that seem to sparkle in the sunlight. Zayn almost completely forgets about Nala, fascinated by the shimmering butterfly on his hand.
The butterfly takes off slowly and flaps its wings quickly, bolting for the trees at the edge of the clearing. They seem to be willows, tall and soaring, their thick branches hanging down and creating a curtain of greenery. For some inexplicable reason, Zayn follows the butterfly. It’s just a strange feeling in his chest, some warmth that reminds him of that burst of excitement you get when you can’t wait for something and you’re truly looking forward to it. Similar to the music that was coming out of the forest. Now he thinks he can faintly hear the singing but he can't be sure. Over the chatter of birds hidden in the luscious trees, it could only be a whim of his imagination.
Zayn dredges through the thick tall grass that's speckled with wildflowers, nearing the seeming area of lowland where the willows are. As he gets closer, he sees the sparkling of water but he can't hear the rush of a river. A pond maybe. Zayn hopes that's where Nala is, simply drinking the water or taking a dip to cool herself down in the warm day. Still, he would've been happier if she didn't think to do it in a cursed forest.
The curtain of willow leaves and branches is soft and brisk under Zayn's hand as he moves it out of his way. He does indeed find a small lake, its water shining despite there being no direct source of sunlight. It looks beautiful, with waterlilies on its surface and the willow trees surrounding it. Zayn then sees a figure in the water.
At first, he curses himself for not having a sword with him, foolishly leaving it with his horse back outside this… bubble of beauty and secrets. But the figure is naked, at least it seems so since Zayn can only see their back. He can't tell if it's a man or a woman from his spot on the far edge of the lake but he's leaning towards a man because of the broad shoulders and a strong back.
Zayn doesn't truly believe in magic but he also doesn't like the thought of having mirages but only those two things can explain the appearance of the man in the water, if he's a man at all. Skin with a greenish tint and a gleam that can't be human. Long slender fingers that have a little webbing between them like a frog. And the singing Zayn's been hearing for years now. The questions seem to leave Zayn's mind with the first note of the stranger's song, foreign words with a lilt to it that makes the song seem like it came from a different world altogether. Bravely and ludicrously, Zayn takes a step forward, drawn in by the ringing tone of the man's singing.
As if he has eyes on the back of his head, the man turns around and looks at Zayn with wide green eyes. His long brown hair seems less messy from the front, more neat ringlets than a bird's nest. He's incredibly beautiful but there's nothing animalistic about his features. His eyes remind Zayn of a fish and his high cheekbones aren't something every other human has. Still, his beauty nearly takes Zayn's breath away.
“Oh, hello,” the man says, grinning and showing off his slightly pointed teeth. “It is good to finally meet you, Your Grace. I did not think it would take years of my singing to lure you in at last.”
Zayn blinks slowly in shock, trying to understand what just happened. “You know who am I?”
“Of course,” the man shakes his head with a wide smile. “Would you like to join me, Your Grace?”
“Join you?” Zayn asks dumbfoundedly.
“Why yes,” the man says cheerfully. “You are going to love the water.”
Zayn takes a deep breath, the instinct to flight this scene finally kicking in. It's good that he's still alive. He wonders for how long though. “No, I just want to find my dog and get back to the castle. But thank you for the kind offer. I will be on my way now.”
“Please, Your Grace,” the man says, his face open and amiable. “Stay for a while. I could sing for you. And help you find your canine companion.”
“No, I really should not,” Zayn tries as the man stands up in the water. He's naked, starkly naked. His body looks like the body of any regular man only that it looks sculpted, like sheer perfection. From his toned torso, through his admirably sized cock to thick thighs that look strong as he steps out of the water and joins Zayn on the shore. It's scandalous and as a prince, Zayn should avert his gaze. He doesn't.
“Have you taken a lover before, Your Grace?” the man asks, now dangerously close to Zayn. In hindsight, Zayn sort of understands why all those men got stuck here or killed. If they ever encountered a creature so beautiful, it would've been hard for them to go back home. Zayn has a duty to his Kingdom and yet, his feet are stuck to the ground as if he's sprouted roots that would not let him move. This beautiful creature in front of him has captured him. Not with force. Zayn isn't tried up with shackles and yet he feels like if he moved, he would commit a crime of the worst degree known to man.
“I have,” Zayn replies shakily, knowing where the man is trying to steer this conversation to but still hoping he doesn't. Somehow, Zayn doesn't really care nor is he scared.
“Very well, Your Grace,” the man grins, taking another step forward. “Have you heard about my kind?”
“There are rumours,” Zayn swallows. “Rumours about creatures that kill people in this part of the forest.”
“Lies,” the man drawls, his cheerfulness suddenly gone. “No blood has ever been spilt on our land. The men of your Kingdom always stayed here out of their own volition. But most of them got mauled by the bears and wolves far from our land. I will not kill you. And I will let you go. If you want to leave.”
“Why would I not want to leave?” Zayn asks, confusion clouding his face.
“You see,” the man smiles sheepishly as he takes a string on the lacing of Zayn's shirt between his long, greenish fingers. “There is something my kind wants from your kind. We never take it by force. Peace between yours and mine is crucial.”
“If you do not want my life, what could you want?” Zayn questions the man but doesn't take a step back, doesn't slap the hand of the man off his shirt.
When they're this close, Zayn can see the emerald tint of the man's lips, his wide eyes that don't look like the eyes of any human Zayn's seen before. His ears are pointed, bones more pronounced. All of it makes him only more and more enchanting.
“I want something beautiful,” the man says, his lips then widening with a smile. “Not a thing. Let me show you.”
The man shamelessly grabs Zayn's hand and puts it down on his own cock. Zayn's a bit surprised to find that his skin is cold yet soft. Regardless, feeling the man's hardness in his hand makes him seem more human to Zayn than before. Even with the questionable body temperature, this greenish enigma of a creature is just like a man after all.
“See, Your Grace?” the man grins again, his strangely pointed tongue peeking out to lick his own lips, moss green on emerald green. “My kind is not violent. We are just passionate.”
Zayn's words have left him standing there silently as if he were simple. What is there that could possibly be said to this? It's the strangest moment of his life because he should be running as fast as he can away from this creature but he can't seem to find the will to do so. The moment isn't unpleasant. Zayn isn't fearing for his life. If the beautiful songs were coming out of the mouth of this man, creature, whatever he is, he can't be a monster, can he? He has neither talons nor fangs.
The man lets go of Zayn's hand and goes back to the front of Zayn's shirt, this time actively unlacing it with pointed focus. He's slow with it, maybe teasing maybe just trying to figure out a piece of clothing he obviously doesn't wear. It takes just a few moments before Zayn's standing in front of him half-naked, the warm air kissing Zayn's naked skin.
“That is much better,” the man says, a gentle smile Zayn's hasn't seen yet lighting up his face. “You are beautiful, Your Grace.”
Zayn takes in a sharp sudden breath as the man's finger starts trailing Zayn's collarbone. His touch is fleeting as if his fingertips were merely a bunch of feathers. The webbed fingers make their way down Zayn's torso until they reach the lacing on the front of Zayn's pants.
That's when Zayn takes the man's hand, pulling it away from him. It gets a concerned look from the man, his fishy eyes searching Zayn's face with distress.
“Are you nervous?” he asks Zayn, his voice small. “Do you want me to sing for you again?”
“Is that what you do to lure men in?” Zayn wonders, the pieces fitting in together. That's why he was so drawn to the music - it was the man's goal all along.
“Sometimes,” the man replies with unexpected honestly. “My beauty usually convinces them to stay. How about you, Your Grace?”
Zayn watches the man for a while, trying to read his beautiful yet inhuman face. Is he enchanted? Bewitched to come to this man? He had doubts just a moment ago. The strange feeling of being glued down to the ground is gone.
It's reckless, what Zayn does next. Without any preamble, he pulls the man in for a kiss. The skin on his cheek is like cold water on Zayn's hand but his lips are soft and hot and they part under Zayn's immediately. Then even the strangely shaped tongue isn't strange once it meets Zayn's own.
The man pulls away slightly for a moment. “Very well, Your Grace. It warms my heart that you are of a sure will. I like a resolute man.”
“What is your name?” Zayn asks then, their lips brushing against one another.
“I am a being of many names,” he answers cryptically. “I shall give you a mundane name I have grown fond of. You can call me Harry for now. Perhaps one day I will tell you my faerie name. If you are worthy of it. Our faerie names hold power over us. We do not give them up to anyone.”
Zayn doesn't really care because the land of faerie has been a fairytale to him all his life. He simply wanted to put a name to this handsome face.
They don't speak anymore as Harry's hands go back down to Zayn's pants, trying to unlace them just as some moments ago. Zayn doesn't stop him now. Maybe all of this is just a dream and he'll wake up sludging against a tree with Nala nudging him. Harry's not a human and this should be wrong but he's never seen such a beauty. Zayn's been known to have a weakness for beautiful people. Even if Harry is of a different world, he's still human enough for Zayn to indulge in a bit of passion with him.
“Do you trust me?” Harry asks once their bodies are flushed together, naked and eager.
“You have not killed me yet,” Zayn replies. “I would have run away already if I had not trusted you.”
Harry grins with his sharp teeth. “Lay down.”
Zayn does, for a moment feeling ridiculous because he's the future King and he's taking an order from someone who's not even fully human. But when his back hits a soft bed of grass and moss, he doesn't feel like complaining anymore. Harry follows his suit of getting down but he stays on his knees, straddling Zayn over his waist.
“Do you want me to use my mouth first?” Harry asks, his tone and face almost innocent.
Zayn thinks about the sharp teeth and quickly shakes his head. He's not doubting that Harry's skilled but he's not that adventurous.
“That is alright,” Harry says, putting his hands on Zayn's hips and scooting even closer so that now he's hovering over Zayn's cock. “I had something different in mind either way.”
"It's a quick moment before Zayn's cock is enveloped by Harry's wet heat, quite different from fucking a regular man. There was no need for preparation. It's different from a woman as well, tighter and just different altogether. Harry doesn't waste time and starts moving with the precision of a whore trained to fuck. Not that Zayn would know what that looks like.
Harry is a sight to behold. His strong slender body towering over Zayn as he moves up and down, his dark brown hair creating a halo around his head. He looks more human as a sheen of sweat appears on his chest and his breathing gets quicker with the extortion. In the weak sunlight seeping through the thick branches of the ancient willows, even his greenish skin starts to look normal. It's only when he smiles with his head thrown back and Zayn sees his sharp teeth that he's reminded of Harry's true nature.
It would be a terrible shame to the royal family if anyone found out what Zayn has got up to but this feels too good to care about all that. Harry's webbed fingers are suddenly like fire as he grabs Zayn's hands in his, bending down to kiss him. His icy skin is no longer close to making Zayn shiver as it's nearly feverish now. Harry's chest nearly touches Zayn's and even with the space between them, the heat from his skin reaches Zayn.
“Are you close?” Harry asks in a whisper before placing another small kiss on Zayn's lips.
“Yes,” Zayn breathes out. “Are you?”
Harry just nods and turns his head to kiss Zayn's neck with his scorching lips. It doesn't take long since they both come, who was the first one lost in the mess of fiery kisses and delicious pleasure. Zayn's never felt something like this before, something so raw and intense. The ferocity of it nearly feels like something forbidden. And perhaps it is. Perhaps that's why Harry's kind are hiding in an enchanted forest. This powerful pleasure might drive men crazy for all Zayn knows.
Harry stays lying on top of Zayn for a while before he gets up, stretching like he just got up in the morning and not after fucking.
“Did you have a good time, Your Grace?” Harry asks casually as he bends down again and kisses Zayn softly. “You are not dead, or hurt.”
“I enjoyed it,” Zayn admits shamelessly. There is no place for hiding after what they've just done. “Will I be able to leave once I reach the edge of this part of the forest?”
“Yes,” Harry answers simply, his hand placed gently on Zayn's jaw. His skin is now warm like any other human's. “Only if you promise me you will come back.”
“Will you keep me here if I do not promise it?” Zayn asks. He fears the answer, even if he tries to keep a straight face.
“No,” Harry says and stands up with a rather disappointed sigh. “But I would rather you saw me again. You are lovely. Much better than the knights that have been coming here for decades. You are a Prince. We are closer to each other than you might think.”
“I will try to come back,” Zayn says despite doubting his own words, now too on his feet as he starts to put his clothes back on. “But you have to promise not to drive me mad with your body. With this limitless passion, you showed me today.”
“A faerie nymph makes no promises, my Prince,” Harry grins, coming close to Zayn and kissing the highpoint of his cheekbone. “I will give you something. Use it if you feel like seeing me. I will find my way to you or you to me.” Harry then places a closed shell into Zayn's hand. “Open it and there will be a clue where to find me.”
“Thank you,” Zayn says, pocketing the shell. “Oh, have you seen my dog?”
Harry smirks. “Nala is waiting for you by your horse already. Stay safe on the journey back, my Prince. I will keep you in my thoughts.”
Harry then retreats back to the water, mostly ignoring Zayn, only turning around to wave at him as Zayn leaves through the thick curtain of willow leaves.
Nala is indeed waiting for him by his horse outside and Zayn has no difficulties leaving the invisible fortress of magic. Now he can only wonder when he will see his greenish lover again if he ever sees Harry at all.
As Zayn rides his horse back to the castle, he kind of gets why many men have never returned from that oasis of enchantment. If he wasn't due to be King of Wimborne one day, Zayn thinks he might have stayed there too.