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He knew this place. The high walls, the deep-set stones that he once thought were impenetrable. He remembered his lord father treading these halls, remembered his lady mother at his side with steeled eyes that were so quick to turn tender when looking at her children. He could hardly remember her face now, only those gentle eyes and thin lips that would weave tales of olde and sing him to sleep. He remembered chasing his younger brother Changkyun through these halls, wrapping his arms around the boy and pulling him close to give him a quiet scolding or a kind smile.
He was unsure of how he got here, of why the stones looked as he remembered them as a child. He knew the castle was in ruin, the site devastated from an attack. He'd lost his mother and father, had Changkyun flee with his mother's handmaiden. He hadn't seen the boy since, knew he'd never see his mother and father again. Yet here the castle stood in its former glory, smaller than he'd remembered, but just as strong. He made his way to the throne room.
The chatter attracted his attention before anything else. The castle was abandoned, there was no one left. The throne room should be silent, but the quiet murmurs showed otherwise. He braced himself for the worst as he pushed the door open.
The first thing he saw was his mother, her eyes soft as she watched someone running around the center of the room. She looked up slightly, just enough to catch his eye, and she smiled. "Kihyun's here, Kyunnie. Behave for a while, hm?" She spoke in a low hum, her hands reaching out to take someone else's. She patted their back before sitting up once more, her hand moving to rest on another's.
"Hyung!" A young voice shouted, arms wrapping around Kihyun's legs before he registered the voice. "Hyung, hurry up inside!" The boy continued, little hands raising to take Kihyun's and pull him further into the room. He wore a bright smile, cheeks scraped from one too many falls.
"Changkyun," Kihyun breathed as he knelt, fingers twining in messy black locks. He pressed his forehead to the boy's, feeling his eyes water and shake. He looked exactly as Kihyun had remembered. Kihyun hoped he was alive, that he was okay, wherever he was. He promised he would find him, but everything was hard, so very hard, when half of Westeros wanted him dead. He wrapped his arms around Changkyun's small body - it felt so familiar, yet not familiar at all - and held him tightly, weeping quietly into his hair.
"Hyung?" Changkyun asked softly, leaning back just enough to gaze into Kihyun's eyes. A sense of understanding swept over his features and he pulled Kihyun close once more, arms wound tightly around his neck. He allowed him to cry.
"Kihyun," their father's voice murmured, low and tired. He waited for Kihyun's eyes to meet his own. He gave a small, tight-lipped smile. Kihyun realized that this was how he looked the night before the attack, eyes weary and his age finally showing from so many sleepless nights. Kihyun wondered if he'd known he wouldn't survive the night. He wondered if he knew that their last meal together would truly be the last. "There's someone waiting for you."
"Sorry I'm late," a voice said softly, sheepishly. Their footsteps echoed louder than Kihyun's had, slow and sure, the confidence in each step betraying the hesitance in their voice, "but I'm here now, and that's what matters, right, Kihyunnie?"
Kihyunnie. Kihyun felt his heart sink. It was the boy who had saved him the night of the attack - the man that had protected him through the years and loved him unconditionally. Lee Hoseok. He leaned away from Changkyun's embrace, eyes searching. "Hoseok," he whispered, voice failing him.
"The one and only." The gentle laugh that followed pierced Kihyun's heart, the brunet finally emerging from the shadows. He wore a soft smile, the same one he'd worn when he'd given his life for Kihyun. "You're just as beautiful as ever," he breathed, almost as if Kihyun had taken his breath away.
Kihyun wondered if they saw him as they'd last known him. He wondered if Changkyun and his parents saw a young boy with well-kept hair and fair skin, a bright smile and tender eyes. He wondered if Hoseok saw a mess of black hair, just a bit too long, and tanned skin covered in small cuts and bruises. He wondered if they say him as he was now, skin tanned and dirtied, clothes torn and hair framing his face, too long from being unable to keep it groomed. He wondered if they saw what they wanted to see.
He wondered if it was really them.
"Hoseok," he breathed again, stumbling to his feet and rushing over to the man. He pulled him into a tight embrace, unable to stop himself from sobbing into the man's shoulder. He'd seen the dagger enter his chest, had to pull it out himself. He'd cleaned the wound and begged Hoseok not to leave him, shared a tender kiss goodbye just before the man's eyes had closed forever. He'd cried into his chest then, cursing every god - the old and the new, he didn't care, they were all responsible. He'd been the one to make a pyre and burn Hoseok. He'd stayed until the fire died.
"Kihyun," Hoseok whispered in reply, his arms wrapped tightly around Kihyun. A time ago, perhaps when Hoseok was still truly there, Kihyun would scold him for clutching him so tightly, but he didn't care - not now. His grip was too tight, sunkissed skin covered in blood and dirt and ash.
"Shall we continue?" Kihyun's father murmured to his mother, voice sounding tired and strained; the joy in the man's voice was overpowered by his exhaustion. He still managed to smile.
Music began to play - Kihyun didn't know from where, there were no musicians around - and Hoseok led him to the center of the room.
"I may have been raised as a ward, but I can still dance," he murmured with a playful lilt, his hands falling to Kihyun's hips as he started to dance. One step, then another, and then another. Slow, deliberate.
Kihyun's feet followed, hands placed on Hoseok's shoulders, but his mind raced. He knew this wasn't reality. He could picture his mother and father's corpses - he'd returned when their enemies had gone, saw the bodies of his mother and father, his maester and his father's guard, dozens upon dozens of his people. When his eyes closed, the blade piercing Hoseok's chest replayed again and again, the fire from the pyre burning at his eyelids and licking at his skin.
He didn't want to leave, he realized.
He didn't want to leave this. He didn't want to leave his father's tired gaze, his mother's loving presence; he didn't want to leave Changkyun, Hoseok's arms. He wanted to stay forever. The people who meant the most to him stood in this room.
They danced seemingly forever, a dim light cascading in from the windows and fading only moments later, as if night turned to day and back to night. Chill bit at his arms before heat suddenly crawled up his skin; the next second the chill would return. He wondered how long he danced with Hoseok, winter turning to summer, then winter again. Snow began to blanket the halls; the stones began to crumble and fall just as they had during the attack. No one noticed but Kihyun.
But still, he didn't want to leave.
The music picked up and he heard swords clashing and battlecries. That was not from here, he realized. It was from somewhere else, as if it were from another time. He fought with his mind to remember how he got here, where the sound of battle was coming from. He didn't know when a haze had filled his mind, blocking him from his memories passed the four in the room with him. A voice that was his own, yet not his own, whispered in the darkest corners of his mind. You never want to leave.
He didn't belong here. You don't want to leave. He was fighting for something, but for what? You don't want to leave. Something cold and metal pressed against his back, tucked safely beneath his waistband. You don't want to leave. A voice cried out to him in the distance, almost drowned out by the swords. You don't want to leave. The voice cried out his name. You don't want to leave.
The voice cried out his name one last time, filled with desperation and fear and panic. You don't want to leave. Kihyun recognized that voice, finally. You don't want to leave. He shouldn't be here, he should be there, with that voice. You don't want to leave. He should be looking for Changkyun, he was so close, he couldn't possibly give up now. You don't want to leave. But how could he escape this place? You don't want to leave!
The whispers turned shrill, angry, and they suddenly stopped. He could think again, clearly. He took a deep breath. How had he gotten here? He remembered a sorcerer stopping him and promising him safety, remembered the sorcerer wearing a sickeningly sweet smile as he told him that he would have to recreate the past to escape it. He hadn't registered those words then.
Everything changed the moment Kihyun's mind cleared.
He heard the stone fall more clearly now, getting closer and closer. He turned his eyes to his parents, seeing the resignation on their faces; there was no longer a sense of peace on those faces. He felt Changkyun's fingers against his legs, dancing there; he was afraid, not excited as he had been before. "Changkyun." His voice was broken. "Changkyun, let's play. Run as far as you can. I'll come and find you, I promise."
"Alright," Changkyun murmured before turning and running out of the throne room, lips pulled in a tight smile. It was forced, just as it had been when he fled so long ago. It was meant to comfort Kihyun.
The metal on his back scorched his skin as he turned to look at Hoseok. Tears stung at his eyes, fingers curling into fists against Hoseok's chest. He hesitated. "Mother," he said instead, averting his gaze from Hoseok and looking his mother in the eye. "Mother, I love you so much. I'm so sorry I couldn't do anything," he whispered, tears blurring his vision.
"I love you. I am so proud of you," she murmured back, voice almost gone now. The sound of falling stones seemed to drown her out, or maybe she was already crushed beneath them, Kihyun just couldn't see it. He wished he could take her hands and hold them in his own, feel her warmth and the tenderness of her thumb running along the back of his hand. "You are more than I ever could have wished for. Find Changkyun, okay? You promised you would."
Kihyun felt the tears fall as he turned his attention to his father. He'd never seen the man look so weak. He remembered how strong he'd looked while they were young, how he could lift Kihyun onto his shoulders with a hearty laugh. "Father," he started, voice coming out as a whimper, "Father, I-"
"Kihyun," his father interrupted softly, words laced with understanding. "I'm proud of who you are now. You must survive. You can't die here. You're the last of House Yoo. Go on, now. Do what must be done."
Hands shaking, Kihyun finally looked at Hoseok. He heard a crash. The castle had collapsed over his mother and father. He wouldn't look. "Hoseok," he began, voice hardly more than a whisper. "Hoseok, I... I love you so much. How could you leave me?"
"I couldn't let you die, Kihyunnie," Hoseok answered, his hand raising to grip Kihyun's. His eyes were filled with sadness. The confidence was no longer there. "There would be no reason for me to survive if you weren't there."
"But you left me, Hoseok. I didn't want you to leave. I don't want to leave you."
"But you have to," Hoseok insisted. His hands trailed to the blade that seemed to throb against Kihyun's back. "I wish this were real. I wish we could be together forever, but we just can't. It hurts to be here, Kihyunnie. You need to save me, and then you need to save Changkyun."
"I love you so much, Hoseok," Kihyun whispered as the blade was placed in his hands, fingers trembling from how tightly they clutched it.
"I love you so much more, Kihyunnie," Hoseok murmured, his hands cupping Kihyun's cheeks. He leaned forward, planting a slow, tender kiss to his lips. His hands fell to his sides as he pulled back.
"I'm sorry." He raised the blade. "I'm sorry, Hoseokkie." He brought the dagger down.
"Kihyun!"
Kihyun inhaled deeply, vision blurred as his eyes opened. He looked around, feeling his hands shake and his eyes sting with tears. He didn't know where he was nor where he had been.
"Kihyun, oh thank the old Gods and the new." Arms wrapped tightly around Kihyun's shoulders, holding him close. "Ki, we need to move. Now. The fighting's too close, we're gonna get caught in the middle of it."
His eyes finally adjusted. Curly black hair caught his attention before the plump lips that spoke to him. His mind was still foggy; he couldn't remember this man's name, much alone where they were and what they were doing here. He returned the hug nonetheless.
"Do you need help getting up?"
"Yeah, yeah, I do," Kihyun said quietly before taking the hand being offered to him and pulling himself to his feet. He flicked his head to the side to shake away the haze before looking at the man again. "Where are we?"
"The Gods only know. I can't even begin to tell you. The Riverlands, maybe? We were heading south, for your brother. Then we were going to live in Dorne for the rest of our bloody days," the man responded, taking Kihyun's hand, "do you need any help walking?"
"I think I'm okay for now, thanks," Kihyun answered before giving his head one last shake. The haze finally cleared. The black haired man with him was Chae Hyungwon, a man he'd met on the road a few months prior. They'd become fast friends. He'd told Hyungwon of his troubles, and Hyungwon told of his. He'd told Hyungwon his past, and Hyungwon told of his.
"Then let's go get your brother, yeah? I'd like to keep my head," Hyungwon said with a small smile.
Kihyun nodded and followed after him, the two fleeing the clashing swords.
His blade felt cold against his back. In the darkest corner of his mind, a voice whispered to him. You never wanted to leave.