Archive of Our Own

Eleventh Winter

First Moon.

There’s a knot of dread curled tight in Donghyuck’s stomach. His nightclothes are thin and for once, the fire in his blood doesn’t keep him warm. Instead, he feels frozen, watching his grandmother pull open a chest in the corner of the room; rooted to the spot, barely able to breathe.

“Take these,” she says to him, pulling out a set of garments that looked like something he had seen a farmhand wear. She holds them out to him, urging him to take them, but there’s a bright flash of something outside in the courtyard, something dangerously red and Donghyuck still can’t breathe.

“Ma? Ma, what’s—”

“No, Donghyuck, there’s no time. Take these clothes and listen to me for a moment.”

Donghyuck meets her gaze and for the first time, he sees his grandmother look scared. His hand starts to shake. “I don’t like this,” he murmurs.

The icy steel in her gaze—the one that she wears when addressing the Kingdom, when preparing for war—softens into something gentler. “I know, my dear, but this is important. I need you to listen to your Ma, okay?”

When he nods she reaches into her pocket, the one that lays just over her heart, and pulls out something small and round, bound on a gold chain. When she presses it into his hand, Donghyuck recognises its shape and the family crest engraved upon it. The gold surface of the compass glints in the light of a dying candle.

She bends down a little to look him in the eyes, while one of her hands reaches up to cup his cheek. “It might be too late for me and for this castle, but Donghyuck, it is not too late for you.” The dread unfurls like ice in the centre of his chest. “Go south, as far as you can. Don’t stop until you reach the ocean, until you find the point where the sky spans for as far as your eye can see. Okay?”

“Ma–”

“Look at me, Donghyuck.” He meets her gaze and tries not to let tears blur his vision. “There’s no time for anything else, my sweet boy. You have to go, you have to protect yourself. Use the cover of the night and don’t let anyone see you. Don’t look back, alright?”

She gently curls her fingers around his so that the compass is enclosed in his palm. “Do you understand?”

He nods because he doesn’t know how to make his voice work.

“Be safe, my braveheart. Never forget the blood that runs inside of you; what makes you who you are. No matter what, we are all still with you. Even if—”

The sharp crash cuts her off and the candle rattles in its stand as the floor shakes beneath them. 

The hourglass has been emptied. 

His grandmother’s eyes blaze bright blue—ice and determination—and Donghyuck wants nothing more than to beg her to let him stay; to fight for his Kingdom. But before the words come out, she pushes the clothes into his hands and grips his arm tight one last time.

“Go, Hyuck. Run.”

So he does.

On Donghyuck’s third night in the forest, it rains. It starts just as the sun begins to set, droplets sliding down the leaves onto the forest floor. The sound is soft and gentle, pattering against the earth below, and Donghyuck can only stand and stare; fascinated. 

The droplets fall against his skin and soak into the fabric of his shirt, nothing like the snowflakes that he is so familiar with. Donghyuck stands underneath the downpour, with his arms spread wide and face tilted towards the sky. He draws in a breath as slowly as he can, drawing in the scents of the storm; the earth, the trees, the dirt and everything in between.

It might not be the soft layer of white that he’s used to or the blizzards that swirl through the Kingdom when Mae is angry from her place in the great sky. But there’s a different beauty to a rainstorm, Donghyuck finds, letting the rain run down his cheeks and wash away his tears.

He returns to his journey with new hope in his heart, headed south while his heart longs to retrace his steps back home.

Second Moon.

Donghyuck awakes to the sound of a sharp crack, jerking up from his sleeping spot at the hollow base of a tree with his heart beating wildly in his chest. For a second, he feels like he’s back at home, woken by his grandmother pulling him from his bed while strange noises echo throughout the castle. But when Donghyuck gets to his feet, a twig snaps underneath his heel and he remembers. 

A voice jerks him back to the present—or rather a series of voices—indistinct shouts scattered around him. Donghyuck frantically searches his surroundings, looking for the sources until a small boy breaks his way into the small clearing which Donghyuck’s tree stands at the edge of.

The small boy is wearing something similar to Donghyuck but littered with more rips than Donghyuck can count. There’s a cut on his cheek that has blood smeared down the side of his face. He’s bent over panting and he doesn’t seem to notice Donghyuck for a moment. When he glances up and meets his gaze, the boy’s body grows rigid. His hair hangs limply in his eyes, the blood stark red against his pale cheek.

It’s only then that Donghyuck remembers the voices, angry shouts coming from somewhere behind the mysterious boy. Donghyuck has no desire to meet the owners of the threatening voices. The boy seems to notice as well because he jerks forwards, glancing behind him with a fear so potent and overwhelming that it ignites something strong in Donghyuck’s chest.

He moves before he can stop himself, reaching out to wrap a hand around the boy’s wrist. The boy’s frightened eyes flick to him and Donghyuck is jarred by how young the boy looks. Then, with a tug from Donghyuck, they break out into a run.

“My name is Jisung,” the little boy tells him after, once they had managed to shake the men off their tail. The boy is breathing hard with hands clutching his knees. “Thank you,” Jisung manages to gasp out between his pants.

“It was no trouble at all,” Donghyuck reassures, then chides himself on his formality. “Uh, who were they?”

“Ah, well. You see, I may have stolen some vegetables from their farms.” Jisung looks sheepish as he says it and Donghyuck watches as the boy’s shoulders curl inwards. “I know that it ain’t right and all, but it's not easy finding food around here.”

“You don’t have food?”

A deep blush spreads across Jisung’s cheeks and his shoulders hunch forward even more. “Uh, I don’t have a– a home?” Jisung’s gaze was fixed on his knees. “Yeah, I don’t really have a home.”

That makes something bitter catch in Donghyuck’s throat, the memory of ice and snow melting under a blaze of red. He sucks in a deep breath that rattles something in his chest. “Me neither.” When Jisung tilts his head up to look at him, Donghyuck manages to find a small smile, barely more than a twitch of his lip. “How about we go find some food?”

The small smile that he got in return is worth it.

It takes the entire walk to a nearby town for Jisung to realise that he doesn’t know Donghyuck’s name. The question startles him, and before he knows it, the answer is falling automatically from Donghyuck’s lips. His breath catches in his throat, panic rippling under his skin like a storm ready to burst. But Jisung doesn’t seem to recognise him.

Thank Mae that the boy can’t hear the frantic beat of Donghyuck’s heart.

Fourth Moon.

For the first time since he fled the castle, Donghyuck finds himself talking, laughing. He hadn’t realised how lonely his journey had been until he found someone to walk it with. There’s a brightness in the boy’s eyes, despite the tattered state of his clothes and the way that his arms are far too skinny for a boy of just nine winters. His eyes remind Donghyuck of his own brothers, back at home; his little baby cousins running around the halls when they would come to visit.

So he gives in to the protective instinct that has built in his chest. Even as they’re being chased by another angry seller after Jisung accidentally knocked over one of his pots, Donghyuck doesn’t regret his decision. The compass hanging around his neck—right over where his heartbeats—reminds him of his destination. But for a moment, he lets it drift from his mind, doubling over with laughter as they finally lose the stall owner when they dart around a corner. 

Seventh Moon.

The campfire is flickering, barely more than a couple of coals now. Jisung is curled next to the fire on a couple of blankets they had been able to find in the last city that they had travelled through. The compass lays heavy around Donghyuck’s neck, guiding him always south, to the ocean and towards a sky that spans as far as one’s eye can see. Even as they move across land, searching for means to make money or a way to survive—nobody in their right minds wants to give work to boys of barely more than eleven and nine winters—Donghyuck tries to keep the ocean in mind.

He lets his gaze drift from the dying coals of the fire to the expanse of stars above. He traces the crux in his mind, counting each of the stars that make up its cross. He wonders what sky his family is looking up at now, how the maids and gardeners and cooks lie in their slumbers—if they even have a sky to look up to at all.

“Donghyuck?”

The stars twinkle above him.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

Donghyuck doesn’t look at Jisung, simply shaking his head in reply. He thinks that Jisung has known for a while.

“Your kingdom, it’s… You’re from up North?”

He doesn’t have to nod this time.

“But,” and here it comes, Donghyuck thinks. Another hourglass runs dry. “You’re not just from the North, are you?”

Donghyuck finally lets his gaze fall from the sky, drifting across to Jisung’s face. The younger boy is lying on his back, the look in his eyes making him look older than the stars above them. “How did you know?” Donghyuck asks before he can help himself.

“I caught a couple of ladies talking in town today. I knew about what happened, about the Northern Kingdom. But,” Jisung says it like it's an apology, “they were talking about the heir, the next in line to inherit and–and there was a name in there too.”

The air around Donghyuck feels thin, his lungs grappling for air. “Mine,” Donghyuck supplies. Jisung nods, even though he doesn’t have to.

“When we first met,” Jisung continues, “I asked you what your age was. You told me that you’d lived eleven winters.” There’s a small smile on Jisung’s face. “There’s an old story that I remember about the creation of the Kingdoms, about their choices. The Northern Kingdom chose winter to count their life by because it was the state of the world that Mae had gifted to them, right? The other three choose summer because they were spelled by the beauty of the sun, but Mae’s first children—the ones she had created first and gifted the earth too—knew the importance of beginnings; of braving the cold winters.”

Donghyuck was quiet for a long time. He didn’t know what to say.

“You knew this whole time?”

Jisung looks guilty again. “I knew you were from the North. I didn’t know you were the missing heir until today.”

“There’s a price on my head, Jisung. Whoever took down the castle, they’ll pay you handsomely. Enough for a proper house, a home. Somewhere to sleep that isn’t on thin blankets underneath the night sky—”

“No.”

Donghyuck snaps his mouth closed.

“You’re the closest thing I’ve got to home. I’m not giving you up for a pile of coins.”

For the first time since their conversation started, Donghyuck finally draws in a full breath. “Are you sure?” Donghyuck asks.

“They’re not getting you. Not if I can help it.”

A weight that had been resting across his back finally pries itself away from him. He almost chokes around the lungful of air that he breathes in. He flops back on his own blankets, not minding that the coals have died down because there’s a warmth blazing bright and hot in his chest—both from Mother Mae’s gift to him and Jisung’s words.

For a minute he lets himself breathe, relishing in the smell of the earth which had first given him hope after his escape.

“You need to go somewhere, don’t you?”

Donghyuck reaches out to punch Jisung’s shoulder lightly. “You’re too damn perceptive for your own good.”

“Jealous?”

“You wish.”

Jisung smiles and Donghyuck mirrors it. “South,” he murmurs into the quiet night air. “As far as I can.”

For a beat of silence, Donghyuck waits for Jisung to reject the idea. But the boy just keeps smiling. 

“Sweet, I have always wanted to see the ocean.”

They’re on a path, winding their way up a hill. Donghyuck had managed to pick a couple of peaches from the farm they had just passed through, and they’re sharing the fruit between them. A trail of juice dribbles down Jisung’s chin and Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate to point it out gleefully.

“Yah, leave me alone.”

“Is that any way to speak to your elders, Jisungie?”

“You’re barely older than me, only two summers! Oh, my apologies, two winters.” Donghyuck shoves his shoulder in retaliation. 

“At least I have manners.”

“I don’t know, hyung, I think you might have spent a little too long out here with me. Your princely manners are fading away.”

This time Donghyuck just rolls his eyes. He regrets teaching Jisung how to sass him back. Donghyuck lets the sound of their feet against the dirt fill the air. It’s been a couple of days since Jisung found out and the needle on his compass has been set south ever since. It eases something in his chest, even if his heart longs to turn back. 

“Hey, hyung.” Jisung twists around so that he can peer at Donghyuck. 

“Yeah?” Donghyuck’s eyes are still trained on the horizon, the hill they’re on sloping steadily upwards. 

“Is the castle really made of ice?”

Donghyuck can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of his chest. “No, that’s just a myth.”

Jisung pouts but says, “probably a good idea, ice seems hard to maintain. What’s it like? Living in a castle?”

Donghyuck lets his memories wash over him, the box in his chest pried open. “It’s big. The biggest structure in the Northern Kingdom. But there’s always people around, so you don’t feel like it's lonely. Everyone thinks that because it snows and it's cold, it means that we Northerns are cold people inside too. But as my grandma always said, people are most important when it’s cold. It’s easier to be warm together, you have to rely on each other for warmth to be able to survive.”

It’s more than Donghyuck meant to say and it's quiet for a moment after the words leave his mouth. He’s used to messing around with Jisung, of teasing and poking and laughing at the juice on his chin, but not moments like these.

But then the boy smiles at him. “That sounds nice.”

“Living in a castle?”

Jisung shakes his head softly. “Having people who love you around.”

“Oh.” Donghyuck’s chest feels tight. “I’m sorry, Sungie.”

A bittersweetness seeps into Jisung’s smile. It makes him look older by years again. “It’s okay. I’m sorry that you lost that. That you lost them.”

The breeze whispers past them, gentle and sweet, and Donghyuck reaches out an arm to drape it over the younger’s shoulders—Jisung is smaller than him, head only just reaching Donghyuck’s shoulders. Donghyuck couldn't help but think about how much he would give to keep this boy safe forever. “We got each other, right? Even if we don’t need to keep each other warm in the snow, I’ve got your back, Jisung.”

Jisung ducks out from under his arm, pushing away from him, but Donghyuck doesn’t miss the smile that dances across the younger’s lips. Jisung’s blush is high and bright on his cheeks and Donghyuck’s chest is filled with something warm.

“Oh,” mumbles Jisung after a moment, casting his gaze back to the horizon. “We’re almost there.”

Donghyuck follows his gaze to the top of the hill. “How do you know?”

“Haven’t you ever smelt the ocean before, hyung?”

But Donghyuck doesn’t have to because they’ve reached the top and the hill is sloping down and suddenly he’s met with the brightest blue that Donghyuck has ever seen, waves that fall on top of each other, crashing into the sand like they’re embracing an old friend; all beneath the sun that glitters in a sky that stretches as far as his eye can see. 

Twelfth Winter

Second Moon.

"Thank you so much," Donghyuck says over and over again, bowing each time. He just gets a half-hearted wave in response and a warning not to be late tomorrow morning. He barely takes notice of it, practically skipping on his way out of the mayor’s home, overwhelmed with the fact that he's done it. Finally.

Donghyuck races down the footpath, only just dodging an old lady and the basket of fruits that she's baring. He takes two lefts and then a right, ducking under people's arms and carriages. Finally, he reaches it, pulling the stable door.

"Jisung, guess what!"

The boy shoots up from his spot by one of the horses, meeting his enthusiasm joyfully.

"I finally found work!"

Jisung lets out a shout, startling the horse he had just been grooming as he leaps over to pull Donghyuck into a hug. "Yah, hyung you did it!"

Donghyuck spins the younger boy around a couple of times, laughing all the while.

It had taken them a bit of time, when they had first arrived at the ocean, to even find a place to sleep. Most people had turned them away, closing their doors as they decided that two kids in raggedly clothes with nothing to claim for their name—not unless Donghyuck spilled, which wasn't going to happen—were too much trouble. It wasn't until a kind lady and her family had seen them on the street, offering them a warm place to sleep in return for them taking care of her horses. "There's not much I can offer, no beds I'm afraid."

They had taken it anyway, with gratitude bright in their hearts. The roof over their heads meant more than either of them could stay. But they knew that they couldn't stay forever, that having someone warm to sleep didn't mean a stable supply of food. So Donghyuck had spent almost everyday trekking out into the town, knocking on all the doors he could. 

"What kind of work have they given you?" asks Jisung later, when the excitement has worn off.

"Mostly cleaning and washing duties," he picks up a brush from the table, walking over to help Jisung brush off one of the mares. "It's with the Choi family, you know the ones that live right next to the market? Apparently one of their housekeepers recently got married and moved to a town over, so they were looking for some help."

"You know how to do all that stuff?"

Donghyuck flicks some of the hair from his brush at the teasing smile on Jisung's face. "Of course I do, you brat."

The boy has the audacity to laugh at that, so Donghyuck wipes the brush on his shirt just because he can.

Later that night, when they've bundled themselves on their blankets across their makeshift beds, Jisung rolls on his side so he can look at the older boy. "Are you happy, Donghyuck-hyung?"

"Yah, didn't I tell you not to call me that? It's Haechan now, remember?" But there's no bite in Donghyuck's voice to accompany his words. After a pause, letting his voice drop to a whisper, he murmurs, "'Course I am, Sungie."

"But all of this– working and sleeping on piles of hay–"

"Hey, I said I would protect you, didn't I? When I found you in the clearing, or rather when you found me. I didn't leave you behind then, and I'm not about to start now."

Jisung is quiet for a moment, so quiet that Donghyuck thinks he might have fallen asleep, but when he glances to the side, the boy is looking up at the rooftop, a small smile playing on his lips. "You'd have made a great king, hyung."

Donghyuck doesn't quite know what to say to that. He reaches across to hold Jisung's hand—squeezing tight.

Fourth Moon.

Donghyuck dunks another shirt into the scalding water, ignoring the way his hands feel rubbed raw. It's been a long day, and there's sweat pooled in the back of his shirt but he ignores it as he rubs the soap into the shirt. It's mindless work, sifting through clothes, cleaning floors, making beds. Donghyuck is grateful for it, glad that it brings him a small bag of coins at the end of each week, enough for Jisung to stop looking so skinny and for them to begin plans about somewhere more permanent to stay.

But he can't help but catch the whispers that drift through the hallways, conversations that the cooks share as they cut vegetables in the kitchens—talk of his home. 

“There's not much hope for the North,” they say with grimaces. “It's been overrun, driven to the ground,” he heard a young maid say the other day. “Such a sad thing to see,” another says as he helps Donghyuck lift a sheet onto the line. They talk of his family like they're something of the past; a tragedy ready to be forgotten, scribbled down in books that are slowly covered with dust in old libraries. 

Once, when he's just about to finish up for the day, he hears his own name. "The heir, the next gifted one who was set to inherit the throne. They never found him. Even when the Queen and the rest of the royal family had been taken captive, rumours say that the boy just vanished."

Donghyuck turns away, sick to his stomach. The longing in his chest is burning so fiercely that he has to bite his cheek to stop the tears that pool in his eyes.

Not for the first time, Donghyuck wonders what would have happened if he had stayed. Maybe he would have been able to meet fire with fire. To finally let the heat pool under his skin and use the gifts that Mae had blessed him with, the power that had set him as the heir to help. 

But then he remembers his promises—his grandmother holding the compass out to him and Jisung looking up at him, wide-eyed and frightened—and remembers why he's here.

Ninth Moon.

There's a boy next to Jisung, looking barely older than Donghyuck and smiling widely. Donghyuck is wary—he always is with strangers—but there's something warm in the curve of this strange boy's mouth, in the gentle hand that the boy settles over Jisung's shoulder. Something that has Donghyuck faltering. 

When he draws closer, Jisung spots him, waving him over with a wide smile of his own. "Hyung, come meet Mark."

"Mark?" Donghyuck asks, testing the name on his lips.

"That's me," the strange boy grins. His clothes are far too nice for this part of town, a shirt made of clean, blue cotton hanging from his shoulders, brown leather shoes polished nicely and his hands are free from dirt. But he doesn't hesitate to offer his hand to Donghyuck politely, not blinking an eye at the rundown state of Donghyuck's clothes in comparison to his own.

Donghyuck places his hand in the boy's almost on reflex, catching himself from drawing in a sharp breath as the warmth of Mark's palm seeps into his own. 

"I'm Haechan," he mumbles when he finally finds his voice.

There's small flecks of gold in Mark's eyes, glinting in the sun, and Donghyuck can only watch them; amazed as something in his chest flutters dangerously.

Mark, unbelievably, stays.

Donghyuck didn't know quite what to expect when he had first met the boy. He learns that afternoon that the boy is a winter older than Donghyuck, lives with his parents—the Lord and Lady of Hazelwick—and siblings in the castle looking over the village and has an intense love for watermelon. 

Donghyuck had pulled Jisung aside when Mark finally told them that he had to head back home, grilling the boy on everything that he knew about the mysterious boy. But even after Jisung had reassured him that "Mark is really nice, hyung"—and in a gentler tone, "I promise I didn't tell him anything"—Donghyuck is left unsure.

But then Mark surprises him, there next to Jisung again when Donghyuck treks home from his work. There's a little bundle of something in cloth that rests on the small table between them, and when Donghyuck draws close enough he sees that they're little twists of pastry that looks freshly baked and warm. 

"Try one, hyung," Jisung grins, as he pushes the dessert in Donghyuck's face. For a moment, all Donghyuck can do is glance between the pastry and Mark, at a loss for words. But then Mark smiles and the strange fluttery feeling is back in Donghyuck's chest.

When he tries to thank Mark later, the boy just waves him off, claiming that their cook accidentally made the batch too large and he needed someone to share them with. “These are the leftovers,” he claims without looking at them, even though the pastries each look perfect.

It doesn't stop there. 

Mark visits them almost every day, bringing them new treats or things to share with them. But then one evening, as Donghyuck finishes up in the washing rooms ending later than he would have, a familiar face greets him on the street.

"Jisung told me where I would find you," Mark says as if it's supposed to explain why he's shown up out of the blue.

Donghyuck decides not to question it.

Mark doesn't ask about Donghyuck's work or what he spends all of his day doing. Instead, he asks about his favourite animals and which beach he likes best and his favourite colour. He lets Donghyuck tease him and only pushes him away when he tries to pinch Mark's cheek. 

Sometimes Mark’s noble manners slip out; from the set of his shoulders or the careful pronunciation of vowels that Donghyuck has tried to train himself out of to better hide. But he never looks down on either of them, tickling Jisung and patting the boy's hair, bringing them sweets and talking with them until the sun is dangerously close to the horizon.

Donghyuck tries not to think about how perfectly Mark slots into their lives. Not when he has the power to ruin Donghyuck in a heartbeat.

Thirteenth Winter

First Moon.

They’re each huddled around the hearth, watching Jisung as he tells them a story of the time he had been caught trying to steal a whole pumpkin from a yard.

"You couldn't have chosen something, I don't know, easier to carry?"

"Mark-hyung, you didn't see this pumpkin. It was bigger than my whole head."

Mark bends forward, failing miserably at containing his laughter. Donghyuck can't help but follow, laughing loud and bright.

Next year, he tells himself. Next year I'll let them know. For now, this is all the birthday celebration that he needs.

Third Moon.

"For the last time Mark, I can't."

"Why not?"

"I've already got a job, I can't just quit it."

Mark huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why not?"

"Because."

"Working at the castle would be so much more fun. We have quarters which you can live in and I could see you guys all the time."

It's so tempting. Mark is offering both him and Jisung a warm place to stay, somewhere permanent and safe and Donghyuck wants so badly to say yes. But the thought of stepping into a castle has his hackles rising. It's too close to home, too risky that someone might know, that someone might find out.

"I just can't, hyung. I'm sorry."

Mark tries to hide the disappointment. Donghyuck can still see it shining clearly in his eyes.

Fourth Moon.

His resolve doesn't last for long.

When Donghyuck first started working, Jisung mainly stayed by himself, either at the stables they had started at or at the small inn they had found a room in a couple of moons after Donghyuck had started his work. But after a while of Jisung growing steadily more and more restless, they had agreed to a new plan.

During the day, Jisung would go out to the markets and stalls around, selling and trading things where he could. Half the town knew the boy's name and a group of kind elderly aunts had taken particular favour to him.

But that didn't mean that Jisung didn't find himself in trouble every now and then.

There are some owners who turn the small boy away with a sneer, then those who heckled or shoved him as he tried to move through the crowds. The worst, however—and thankfully the most infrequent—were those who tried to take from the little purse that Jisung kept around his neck. They would leave dark bruises on his arms or chin, making Donghyuck's blood boil and the fire threaten to break free from his skin.

Once, after Donghyuck had dragged himself home from yet another long day working overtime at the manor, he is met with an empty room. 

He tries not to freak out, searching around the room for any sign. They had made a promise, when Jisung started going around town, that he would always be home before the clock struck six or before the sun went down in the colder months.

A glance at the sinking sun tells him that it’s past seven at least. 

His heart is threatening to beat right out of his chest when the door bangs open and two familiar figures stand in the entranceway. Donghyuck is by their side in an instant. 

One of Jisung's arms is draped over Mark's shoulder, his head tilted forward like it’s too heavy to hold up. Mark's lip is bleeding slightly and when his hand on Jisung's shoulder comes into view, Donghyuck spots bruised and bloodied knuckles.

He doesn't have to ask what happened, the sharp set of Mark's shoulders enough to tell him everything he needs to know. He tugs them over to the table, fetching a bucket of water and a cloth.

As he wipes the smudges of blood off of Jisung's cheeks, he catches Mark's gaze over the youngest's shoulder. He's watching Donghyuck carefully, worry bleeding into every inch of his face, and something crumbles inside of Donghyuck's chest. They can't keep going on like this. No matter how scared he is.

When Mark finally gets up to leave, the sun already sunken behind the horizon, Donghyuck walks him to the door. With one hand on the door, Mark turns to him, eyes questioning.

"I’ll think about it," Donghyuck murmurs softly.

"That's all I ask," Mark whispers back just as gently.

Donghyuck thinks that he's already made up his mind anyway.

Seventh Moon.

When he finally agrees, Mark's smile is kind and bright, framed against the sun rising over the ocean. Donghyuck thinks of the castle; the warmth and the security of knowing that you have a proper place to sleep. He thinks of being able to see Mark's smile every day.

He decides that he doesn’t regret his choice.

Fourteenth Winter

First Moon.

Despite the long shifts that Donghyuck had been given at the manor, the old man sends in a recommendation for him. Donghyuck is surprised and a little touched, even though he's sure that his new job at the castle was all but secure with all the effort that Mark had put into convincing his family and the staff overseers to hire Donghyuck and Jisung.

Mark eagerly helps them pack their stuff, almost bursting with excitement as he leads them back to his home. Jisung matches his enthusiasm, giggling every few minutes like he just can't quite believe it.

It reminds Donghyuck of their conversation on the hill, years ago now. The castle might not be filled with people he loves just quite yet, but at least it's getting close. He swings an arm around Jisung's shoulders and when the boy smiles up at him, Donghyuck wonders if he's thinking the same thing.

They pass an armoury just after they enter the gates, boys clad in armour sparring on the dirt out front. As the clang from their blades resounds across the field, Donghyuck can't help but think about how long it has been since he wielded a blade. The memories are crisp in his mind, the careful dance that he had played with his brothers and sisters, and with the other nights of the Northern Kingdom.

His mother had gifted him a beautiful bronze sword for his tenth birthday, a tradition for all royal family members. If he closes his eyes he can still remember the feeling of it between his palms, the rubies that adorned the hilt, glinting in the winter sun.

He has to hurry to catch up with Mark and Jisung.

"This is your room through here," Mark grins. His excitement is still buzzing in the air, palpable. "I hope you guys don't mind sharing, but it was one of the last that we had available."

"You forget that Haechan and I have been sleeping right next to each other for three whole summers now."

Donghyuck steps into the room, peering around as they continue to bicker good naturally. There's a window across from the door, drawing light into the room and shedding sun on the two beds on each wall. It's more of a room than anything else that Donghyuck has had since he fled the castle and he feels oddly close to crying.

"You know it's my birthday today," he says without meaning to, eyes trained on the castle grounds outside, for a second seeing the fields glossed over in brilliant blankets of white snow. He wonders what today would be like if nothing had changed; being woken up by his little sisters, his family singing him happy birthday while the cooks prepare the castle for a ball.

But he blinks and the snow is replaced with green meadows and the ocean singing in the background.

"Really?"

He turns around to look at them both and smiles widely just because he can. "Yep. I'm a full fourteen summers now." They both grin back just as brightly.

That evening when Donghyuck is getting ready for bed—after both he and Jisung have been shown around the castle and introduced to all their duties—there's a soft knock on the door. He doesn't know what to expect, shooting Jisung a cautious glance. Mark had left them in the kitchens a little while ago when he was called for dinner, and Donghyuck hadn't been expecting another visit from him that night.

But he's proved wrong when he opens the door to see Mark standing there in his nightclothes, something round and sweet cradled between his hands. "Happy birthday, Haechanie," he says sweetly, holding out the cupcake even as the tips of his ears turn bright red.

Then he starts singing a soft happy birthday and Jisung moves towards them so he can join in and Donghyuck feels so light that a breeze could flutter through and sweep him right away.

Third Moon.

Mark was right. Living in the castle ends up being a whole lot of fun. Although he'd never admit it in front of the boy.

Fifth Moon.

He hadn't realised how much he had missed seeing Jisung every day. Before they had arrived at the ocean, years ago now, they had spent almost every waking moment together. From trekking through mountains to stealing food from stalls or farms.

Now, working around the castle, Donghyuck got to see him in the hallways, got to tease him while they ate lunch together in the kitchens, ruffle the kid’s hair when they had time off to wander around the castle.

Mark helps them explore every inch of the grounds, showing them around the beautifully kept gardens and flower beds. Donghyuck can't help but stare when he sees them, so different from the winter flowers that poked valiantly through the snow up in the north.

They even meet Mark’s parents a couple of times, the Lord and Lady of Hazelwick. Donghyuck discovers that Mark is a spitting image of his father except for when he smiles; his eyes curve and his nose crinkle the same way his mothers does. They greet Jisung and Donghyuck kindly, letting them know that Mark talks of them frequently—which he avidly tries to deny—and welcoming them both into their home.

Donghyuck can't help but think of his own parents, before he determinedly pulls his thoughts out of that well before they can sink any deeper.

Eight Moon.

"One of the stable boys has injured his leg and he's on bed rest for the next couple of weeks. We know that you don't have much experience in the area, but we're wondering if you would be able to fill his position. At least for the next couple of weeks."

Donghyuck nods eagerly. He always did love visiting the stables when he lived up north. The stablehands would always greet him brightly whenever he went down to check on his horse or take her out for a ride. He hopes that the Southern Kingdom's stables work the same.

"I'd be honoured to help out how I can," he says, folding himself into a bow.

The stables, Donghyuck notices very quickly, are placed right next to the training fields for Hazelwick's knights. He finds himself watching them, without realising, as he helps clean out one of the horse's stables or cleaning saddles.

He can remember the feeling of wielding a blade so clearly, the sharp snick that the blade made as it travelled through the air towards its target. Watching them spar, the knights and those still in training, had something boiling in his blood, readying to burst out. His hands itched to grip his own blade between his fingers.

One of the smaller boys clatters to the ground with a grunt after his opponent had used the flat of his sword to shock him off his feet. Donghyuck watches, breath caught in his throat, as the victor points the point of his sword at the smaller. The silence hangs in the air for a moment, everything in Donghyuck dying to get out there, help correct the squire’s stances and strikes. Without even realising it, he maps all the moves in his head, where he would have turned, tried a different tactic; how he could have won.

But they call it and the victor is helping the boy to his feet and the moment is over.

Ninth Moon.

The sheets in the bed across the room rustle for the fourth time that night. Donghyuck lets out a little sigh.

"Are you alright?"

The rustling stops abruptly. "Ah, am I keeping you awake? I'm sorry–"

"I just asked if you're okay, Jisung, that's all," Donghyuck mumbles sleepily across the room.

"I'm fine, I promise," the younger is quick to reassure.

"You can't sleep?"

"No– well, actually yes." Donghyuck starts to sit up. "No, no, not like that. Not for a bad reason or anything, I promise."

"Then why?"

"I just," Jisung trails off. Donghyuck can see him blearily in the little moonlight from their window, Jisung twisting his hands in his sheets. "I just really like living here. Everyone's nice and the lady in the kitchens lets me try the sweets that she bakes."

Donghyuck smiles softly.

"I'm glad you decided to take Mark's offer, hyung."

Warmth sinks into Donghyuck's chest, spreading all the way down to his fingertips. "Yeah, me too."

Eleventh Moon.

"Hey, Haechan right?"

Donghyuck looks up to see one of the knights and his squire standing over on the training ground, both looking at him.

"How may I help, sir?" he asks, making sure to bow to each of them dutifully.

"Do you know how to wield a sword, child?" the knight—who Donghyuck remembers as Sir Donghae—asks, not unkindly.

Donghyuck flicks his gaze between the two of them, not quite knowing how to respond. "I do, sir," he manages to get out after a moment.

"Wonderful. Hyunsik tells me you work well in the stables, so I'm sure that he can spare you for a couple of moments." Then, to Donghyuck's great surprise, Sir Donghae gestures to one of the armoury crates a few steps away. "I would like for my squire, Soobin here, to have some experience sparring with someone of his own size. Would you like to have a go?"

For a moment Donghyuck is rooted to his spot, before it all kicks in. He grins before he can help himself. "I would love to help."

Sir Donghae looks pleased and before Donghyuck knows it, he's standing across from Soobin, a longsword clutched between his fingers. He can feel his heartbeat thrumming steadily in his chest, a calmness spreading over his shoulders as he prepares himself to spar. It's exhilarating.

Then Sir Donghae is calling for them to start.

They circle each other, Donghyuck spotting hesitance in Soobin's stance. Donghyuck almost wants to grin and let his excitement at finally being able to grip a sword again bleed through, but he remembers what his grandmother had taught him. Keep your face in check, my boy, you never want to give away anything to your opponent.

Her voice stays, even as Soobin makes the first move, Donghyuck darting to the side. Wait to see if they make the first move, there's power in testing their patience. On the second strike, Donghyuck parries cleanly, pushing back against the attack so that Soobin has to stumble back to regain his footing.

After the third attempt, Donghyuck finally follows it with one of his own, stepping into Soobin's space and aiming for his side. The boy's parry is slow to register, barely stopping his blade and Donghyuck takes his opportunity. He feigns a low swing, watching as Soobin grapples to meet him, shifting to the left at the last moment and bringing the flat of his blade to the boy's unprotected chest.

The squire stumbles, trying to find his foothold, but Donghyuck doesn't let him. The boy's next attempt at a parry is fumbled and Donghyuck throws his force into the strike so that Soobin topples backwards onto the ground. Donghyuck brings his foot down to rest on the squire's sword hand, pinning it to the ground as he brings his own up to rest at the boy's throat.

Donghyuck's breaths are even—one of the first things his grandmother taught him—disguising the thrill that runs through his veins.

When he looks up, Sir Donghae is watching him. For a second, regret flushes through Donghyuck, spiking in his throat.

"Impressive. I don't know many stable boys who know how to fight like that."

Donghyuck's palm suddenly feels very sweaty from where they're clutched around this hilt of his sword. "Thank you, sir," he replies, as calmly as he can.

But then the knight smiles. "I might have to speak to Hyunsik about your placement in the stables."

Donghyuck's walking back to his room a couple of nights later when he's met by a familiar face.

"Mark!"

The older boy grins up at him. "Haechan, I was just looking for you."

"Me? Why?"

Mark's grin gets wider and he falls into step with Donghyuck. "Donghae was talking about you today, says you're apparently really good with a sword."

A blush spreads across Donghyuck's cheeks. "Oh yeah, I guess."

"Yah, don't be shy. If Donghae was talking about it, then it means you're really good. How did you learn?"

Donghyuck almost stumbles, his breath catching a little in his throat. "Well," he mumbles, bringing a hand up to scratch his neck. "I– I learnt when I was little."

"Really?"

"Yeah, uh, my grandmother taught me."

Mark shoots him a strange look and Donghyuck wants to kick himself. "Your grandmother taught you how to sword fight?"

"Yeah, she had learnt from her father, so whenever we had free time she would teach me stances and positions. How to hold a sword properly. She let me practice with her own sometimes too. We had some friends who were blacksmiths so we had swords and things around." It wasn't that far from the truth, even though Donghyuck hated how messy it was.

Mark nods along, not seeming to mind.

Donghyuck lets his heart relax a little, as Mark moves on to ask if Donghyuck wants to train with him. They’re almost to Donghyuck's room when they turn around a corner and almost run into one of the maids carrying a tray. Donghyuck stumbles, tripping backwards so as not to collide with her. He catches himself on his palms, ignoring the pain that shoots up his arms in favour of assessing the situation.

Mark had managed to step back without falling over and is waving off the maids apologies, offering his own instead. She bows one last time, after he tells her that it was okay, ducking back down the hallway.

Mark lets out a sigh. "Well that was–"

His voice cuts off abruptly. When Donghyuck flicks his gaze up he sees Mark staring at something on his chest. Donghyuck follows his gaze and is met with a flash of gold and silver. His hand flies up to his neck as a cry of surprise falls from his lips.

He had forgotten to button his shirt up. There dangling around his neck, jerked out from his fall, is the compass that his grandmother had pressed into his palm on his last night at the castle. And Mark had seen it.

Donghyuck's on his feet in an instant.

"Where did you get that?" Mark whispers, eyes wide and still fixed on the fingers that Donghyuck closed around the compass.

"Hyung–"

"That's– holy shit, where did you get that?"

"Mark, please, I can explain."

"That's the compass that–"

"Not here," Donghyuck whispers, circling a hand around Mark's wrist and tugging him into his room.

"Haechan, what is going on? Why do you have that compass?"

"Mark, there's something I need to tell you." Donghyuck feels like he's on the edge of a cliff, about to fall any moment. It’s as if the ropes around his life are snapping. "My real name," he manages to get out. "My name is not Haechan."

Mark is staring at him wide-eyed. Something in his gaze makes Donghyuck feel like the boy already knows what he's about to say.

"It's Donghyuck. Lee Donghyuck."

"No."

"It is," he urges, "I promise that I'm not lying."

"But that's not possible–"

Donghyuck lets go of Mark's wrist, raising his palm in between them. He sucks in a breath and as he lets it out, he lets flames lick up his palm.

"It's the truth," he whispers, eyes training on the flames in his palm. "I promise. The compass– my grandmother gave it to me the night when–" he sucks in another breath. "The night we were attacked. She gave me the compass and made me promise that I would go south, to the beach."

When he dares to look up into Mark's face, the boy is staring at him, wide-eyed. The silence beats for two, horrible, long seconds.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Mark staggers back until his knees meet the edge of Donghyuck's bed, before collapsing onto the sheets. "Does anyone else know?"

"Only Jisung."

"Holy crap."

"Yeah," Donghyuck agrees.

The silence returns, heavy and stifling, and then, in a whisper, Mark says, "god, Haechan, your family."

Donghyuck lets out a breath that empties his lungs. "Yeah," he croaks out.

Then Mark is getting to his feet, stepping towards Donghyuck until he gets close enough to wrap an arm around his shoulder in a loose hug. "I'm sorry."

Donghyuck shakes his head. "It's not your fault."

Before either of them can say anything else, the door is swinging open, Jisung standing on the other side. "Hey guys," he greets with a grin, not seeming to mind the strange position that they're in.

"Hey Jisung," Mark says, recovering first to draw his arm off of Donghyuck's shoulders. "How was your day?"

"Good! Wooyoung taught me this trick while we were on break and–" Jisung's hands still where they’re tugging off his overshirt. It’s then that Donghyuck realises that his hand is still clasped around the compass dangling from his neck.

Everything in the room stills; the world around them grinding to a halt.

"Hyung?"

Jisung's voice is small and worried and spiked with a hint of terror.

"Does– did you–"

"He knows," Donghyuck admits.

Jisung sucks in a harsh breath. "Will he–"

Donghyuck darts his gaze to Mark. It's in that horrifying second that Donghyuck is reminded that Mark holds the power to ruin him.

"No one will know," Mark promises, holding Donghyuck's gaze. "I won't tell a soul."

The earth under Donghyuck's feet spins on.

Fifteenth Winter

First Moon.

"Come on, hyung, just a little further."

"Where are we going?"

"We'll be there in a second, just trust me!"

"Jisung, I trust you as far as I can throw you."

"Which we both know is quite far."

"Don't use tha–" but Donghyuck doesn't have enough time to say his rebuttal because Jisung is letting his hand fall away from Donghyuck's face and the sight that he's met with makes his breath catch in his throat. If either Mark or Jisung can tell, they don't say anything, waiting as he tries to take in the rug and the small feast of food they have set up upon it. "You guys– I don't– what?"

"You really thought we would forget?" Mark grins cheekily from where he's sitting on the rug.

"I just..."

"Happy Birthday, hyung," Jisung murmurs from beside him.

Happiness bubbles in his chest, as bright as the sun above them.

The library ends up as Jisung's second favourite place in the castle. Even if he still struggles a little with the books, he ends up dragging Donghyuck and Mark there whenever he can. "I love the gardens, but the library is really– I don't know, it makes me feel calm," he admits as he tugs them along. "What did you call those windows last week, Mark-hyung?"

"They're called stained glass windows."

"Yeah, those. They're so cool."

And so the three of them end up in a corner of the old library, dusting off old books and giggling at their titles. Every so often Jisung leans over to ask Donghyuck or Mark for help when he gets stuck on a word, grinning when they sound it out and he recognises it. Donghyuck is reminded of when he was first helping the boy learn how to read, both of them staying up late into the night and using the last of the candle wax as Donghyuck read aloud from the pages.

Donghyuck looks at them now—the sunlight streaming a mismatch of colours through the windows—and thanks Mae for his luck.

Second Moon.

"Hyung!"

"Jisung, don't you have work to do?"

"Lady Joohyun added 'annoying Haechan' to my list of duties, didn't you hear?"

"Yah, who made you such a brat?"

Jisung laughs, the answer dancing in his eyes. Donghyuck reaches out to flick the boy's forehead, watching the boy dance out of his reach.

"Okay, don't answer that one, I get it."

The boy giggles again, leaning against one of the benches in the stables. Donghyuck returns his focus to the saddle he has cradled in his lap and is dutifully cleaning.

"You know there's a ball coming up?"

Donghyuck doesn't glance up from his work. "Of course, everyone in the castle has been talking about it all week. Why?" Jisung is quiet for a moment; so quiet that Donghyuck's hands still on the saddle, and he tilts his head to peer up into the boy's face. "What's wrong?"

"I've never been to a ball before."

"Oh.”

"Are they fun?" There's a look on Jisung's face, the same cautiousness that he always has when he wants to ask Donghyuck about his past.

Donghyuck smiles gently. "So fun. Everyone is squashed in together, usually, and there's so much food."

"Aren't they for dancing?"

"You do that too. They play music all night long and they all have their own dances. There are dances and songs for everything. The tarantellas were my sister's favourite because she got to show off her footwork and timing. We used practice together because she'd made me and our brothers learn it, and whenever they would play it we'd flip coins to see who would have to dance it with her."

He didn't realise where his words had trailed off to until he spotted the gentle look on Jisung's face. Donghyuck ducks his head. The memories sit just under his skin, simmering, just waiting to be relived.

"What dances are you going to dance at the ball?"

"Who said I'm dancing?" Donghyuck tried to quip back, even though the tightness in his throat made his words a little strained.

"Mark invited us as guests, don’t we have to dance?"

Donghyuck couldn't help but smile at that. Because of course, Mark had invited them, catching them on their way to lunch as soon as he had heard the news. No matter that Donghyuck and Jisung were a mere stablehand and servant to this castle, or that the ball would be filled with nobles and royalty alike. Mark had invited them without a second thought, telling them that he had already asked his parents when he squeezed next to them at the kitchen benches as they had lunch.

"I guess you're right."

"I don't know any dances, hyung."

"Don't worry, I'll teach you," Donghyuck reassured.

Jisung smiled widely and Donghyuck wondered if this had been the boy's plan all along.

Mark had lent each of them a suit for the occasion, rooting through his cupboard for something to fit Jisung. "Just watch, hyung, I'll be taller than you one day," the boy had grumbled when Mark patted the top of his head teasingly.

Slipping into the clothes and straightening out his lapel has something stirring in the back of Donghyuck's mind. He hasn’t worn nice clothes like these in a long time, the last time back at the castle with his mother fixing his cravat and patting down his hair. He lets the memories cling to him for a moment, focusing on the warmth of his mother's hands and the gentleness of her touch.

When his mind starts to stray to the sound of cannon fire and the sight of a tower in flames, Donghyuck pulls himself back, trying to refocus. Jisung is standing across from him, looking lost under the sheen of fabric decorating his chest. Donghyuck can't help but grin.

By the time that they made it to the ballroom, Donghyuck had helped Jisung re-tie his necktie three times, because the younger's nervous fingers kept straying to the coil of fabric. There's already music filtering through the big doors, a fiddle and a cello in harmony with each other. He can't recognise the song, wondering for a moment about the differences in the Southern and Northern Kingdom's songs.

But then Mark pops up from around a corner, grinning widely at them with his own cravat already slightly askew. Donghyuck reaches out to straighten it almost automatically, ignoring the slight blush that colours his cheeks. Mark grins in thanks before reaching out to grab each of their wrists and pull them into the ballroom.

Ladies and lords alike adorn the room, the ones in the centre of the big room swaying and twirling while those lining the walls laugh and smile to one another. Donghyuck spots Mark's parents, the Lord and Lady of Hazelwick themselves talking with Sir Donghae and Sir Namjoon.

There are food tables lining the east and west walls, where Donghyuck sees Soobin and one of his friends arguing over a plate of sweet pastries.

Donghyuck lets Mark pull them along, grinning at Jisung when he catches his eyes over the eldest’s shoulder.

As the hours tick over, the atmosphere in the ballroom only seems to grow. A couple of minutes after they had arrived, Mark had noticed Jisung's rapidly tapping foot against the ground. "Come on," Mark had told him, grabbing onto Jisung's wrist once more and leading him over to the dance floor, "this song is a fun one."

And so Jisung had danced through all the songs that Donghyuck had taught him, switching partners between Mark and Donghyuck and laughing every time he stepped on one of their feet. "Accident, accident," he would grin each time, with mischief colouring his smile.

Mark just finishes leading Jisung through the steps to the last movement of a sonata when a familiar song begins to drift through the room.

It takes a second before the music registers and something soft and sad worms its way into Donghyuck's heart. A flash of his mother's shimmering dress, his father's adoring smile and his grandmother standing between little Donghyuck and his sister, a gentle hand on each other's shoulders. "This is a very special song,” she had whispered to them. “This is the first waltz that your parents danced together when their hearts officially belonged to one another.” 

"Their wedding dance," a smaller Donghyuck had murmured back, voice filled with awe.

"Yes, my braveheart, their wedding dance."

He can hear her words even now, pulling him back to a different ballroom that lived on in his memories.

But then, someone's fingers brush over his wrist—warm and soft—and Donghyuck lifts his gaze to see Mark hovering in front of him. The candlelight flickers over his face, the flecks of gold in Mark's eyes blazing bright and familiar, and Donghyuck no longer feels suspended in the past and the present; not with Mark in front of him and a gentle smile toying on the boy's lips.

"May I have this dance?"

Donghyuck smiles back and threads his fingers through Mark's. "You may."

Mark's coattails flare out as they spin and Donghyuck can't help the laughter that bubbles out of his lips as Mark pulls him up into a half lift. He smiles as Mark twirls him close, letting the sadness in his memories fade out into something bittersweet, and letting himself simply be twirled around the beautiful ballroom by a beautiful boy.

Third Moon.

"Lord Hazelwick is set to arrive back in this afternoon," Donghyuck hears someone murmur. He presses his back to the wall, nervous as other voices filter down the hallway. Truly, Donghyuck  hadn't meant to eavesdrop, merely wanting to use the hidden hallways to make his way back to his room. He hadn't expected company.

"Any news on how the important business at the capital went?"

"Nothing confirmed yet," the other voice replies. "But I've heard rumours."

"Anything interesting?"

"It seems like the castle is going to have some new residents."

"Really? Who?"

"The Queen of the Southern Kingdom has been missing the sea, apparently. No prize to who can guess where they've decided to move the royal family to?"

Donghyuck's heart stutters to a stop in his chest. The royal family of the Southern Kingdom are coming here. People, princes who Donghyuck has met before; not as Haechan but as himself, heir to the now fallen Northern Kingdom, the boy with a price on his head big enough to feed a whole village.

He has to get to Jisung. To Mark.

Donghyuck races out of the small hallway with blood rushing in his ears, the compass around his neck feeling suddenly heavier than ever before. When he finally reaches his room, he has to try the doorknob twice, his shaky hands unable to twist it the first time.

He fumbles on the door when he finally gets it open, collapsing against the door when it clicks shut again. His lungs feel tight in his chest.

"Donghyuck-hyung?"

A sliver of relief spikes its way into Donghyuck's chest. "Jisung-ah."

"Hyung, what's wrong?"

"They are– there's people, people are coming to live in the castle," Donghyuck rasps out around the lump in his throat. He tries to take a deep breath and steady himself, blinking at Jisung in front of him, with hands hovering over Donghyuck's shoulders, unsure of what to do. "Jisung, if they come to the castle, if they recognise me, the real me–"

"Hyung, please, I don't know what you're talking about..."

"The Queen, the prince, the royal family. I was heading back here and I heard people talking about some rumours that they had heard about the royal family coming to Hazelwick, to stay for a while. And Jisung, if they do– if they–'' His throat grows tight again. "I've met them before. My tenth birthday, the three other kingdom's royal families came to celebrate. I– they could–"

Jisung has gone pale.

"Jisung, if they know, they might– they could take me away and–"

"No. No, hyung, I won't let them take you away."

"But if they find out–"

A knock on the door startles both of them. They stare wide-eyed at each other, not knowing what to do. Finally, Donghyuck gets his body to work again, pressing up from the door so he is no longer leaning on it. When he twists the doorknob open, he finds himself looking into a familiar face. Mark is breathing hard, looking as if he had run all the way to their room and even before he speaks, Donghyuck's heart feels heavy in his chest.

"My dad just got home," Mark pants. "The royal family are coming to stay."

Fourth Moon.

The sunshine beating down from above brings none of the normal warmth to Donghyuck that it normally would. His hands are clasped tightly behind his back, his shoulder pressing up against Jisung’s as they wait for the royal carriage to arrive. Mark is at the head of the line—standing next to his mother and father closer to the entrance of the castle—so far away that Donghyuck can't catch his eye for reassurance.

He knows that if anything were to happen, Mark would do everything that he could. Maybe the Lord and Lady of Hazelwick would try to help too. But Donghyuck also knew that there was nothing that they could do.

His own kingdom, his home, had been invaded by enemies of all four kingdoms. But the attack had been aided by someone—someone on the inside—using secrets that were only contained within the royal families' homes. Within these kingdoms, Donghyuck was alone, no matter how much the royalty had had alliances with his own. There were traitors within their midst, ears who would hear, people who would whisper. And he couldn't risk that.

He feels pressure on his shoulder, glancing up to see Jisung shoot him a small smile just as the sound of horses hooves made its way into the courtyard.

The carriages appear one by one through the gates, flagged by horses on either side, the blue and yellow emblems of the Southern Kingdom adorning their clothes. Donghyuck sucks in a breath as the first one pulls up in front of Mark and his parents, two guards dismounting to pull open the doors.

It was the Queen who stepped out first, a face that Donghyuck can remember faintly. Her husband, the King, follows after her, smiling widely at Mark's parents. Donghyuck's breath hitches at the boy that steps out after them, his hair glinting in the sun and his smile the same sweet curve as his mother's. It's a face that Donghyuck remembers well; memories of laughing together at a ball, of sneaking around the palace to play hide and seek with a young squire, of showing the summer prince how to build a snowman filtering through his mind.

The family is taking a moment to greet the inhabitants of the castle, other carriage doors opening to let others out. Donghyuck allows his eyes to roam over the new residents of the castle, admiring the sun crests on their clothes. But then his eyes drift and he catches someone's eye.

The crown prince is looking at him, a crease between his eyebrows, and Donghyuck feels Jisung tense beside him. The air seems to still, the wind grinding to a halt, the sun stopping in the sky.

But then he is distracted by something one of the squires said to him, eyes lingering for a second before they fell away, and the moment is over—Donghyuck's heart hammering on in his chest.

There is a feast that night to celebrate the new arrivals, spreading even down even to the castle's workers. Donghyuck can only eat with trepidation however, worry filling his stomach while Jisung sits beside him, equally quiet and shooting him looking every few minutes. Donghyuck feels bad for making the boy worry as well, but he doesn't know how to shield his own nervousness.

They are heading back to their room when a voice calls out to them.

"Mark, hey!" Jisung says, letting Mark ruffle his hair before batting his hands away.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the feast?" Donghyuck asks.

"Nah, they said the children could head off if they wanted to. I wanted to come to see you guys."

"Did Mark Lee just admit that he's a child?"

"Yah, Haechan–"

Donghyuck reaches out to tickle Mark with a grin as Jisung darts away from them, laughing.

"Mark?"

All three of them freeze.

When Donghyuck sees who had spoken, he retracts his hands immediately, straightening his spine. "Your highness," he murmurs, falling into a bow that Jisung follows, his own eyes wide.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," the crown prince says and it's only then that Donghyuck realises that the boy is not alone. A boy, the squire that Donghyuck had spotted from before and who looks vaguely familiar, stands to the prince's left, two other boys on his right. They are each dressed nicely, far nicer than Donghyuck and Jisung.

"It's okay," Mark reassures, glancing between them all.

The crown prince smiles kindly. "I don't believe I have met these two, they are?" he trails off, looking to Mark for answers.

"These are Jisung, who works in the kitchens and general house, and Haechan, a stablehand. They're my friends," Mark tacks on the end with a smile.

"You're friends with the staff?"

Mark's shoulders tense, a look that was not uncommon whenever somebody questioned their friendship. "I am. They're my friends," he says again, a defiant note in his tone.

"I'm sorry," the crown prince replies quickly, "I didn't mean to offend, I was simply curious. I understand now how my question must have sounded and I apologise."

Relief settles across Mark's shoulders.

"Well, allow me to introduce myself properly, since I now know your names. I'm Jaemin," he says. "My friend, Jeno," he gestures to the boy on his left.

One of the boys on his right steps forward. "Renjun," he says with a smile, "son of Lady Earlcoast and advisor to the royal family."

"Advisor in training," the last boy says with a teasing smile, ducking away when Renjun tries to smack at his shoulder. "Excuse my manners, my name is Chenle, one of the princes of the Eastern Kingdom. I'm here for a diplomatic role, mostly."

"These are my friends," Jaemin says with a kind smile, to which Mark returns. "I'm afraid we haven't been able to explore much of the castle yet, would you guys be able to help us at all? If you have the time of course."

Mark glances between them, eyes still wide, before nodding. "Sure, we'd be happy to help."

"Wait, hyung, can we show them the gardens?"

"The sun has already set, Jisungie," Mark tells him, fondness colouring his voice.

"Oh." 

Donghyuck wants to laugh at the pout that forms on Jisung's mouth. 

"How about the library?"

"You're too predictable," Donghyuck teases, grinning when Jisung shoots him a look.

"Would you guys be alright going to the library?" Mark asks the other four boys, receiving nods all round. "The library it is then," he announces.

As Donghyuck follows them along, he tries to ease some of the worry building in his chest, watching Mark point out different parts of the castle to its new inhabitants.

Fifth Moon.

It gets easier, Donghyuck finds. The boys are kind, Jisung finally having someone his age to tease, each of them slotting in beside each other. No one seems to mind or mention Donghyuck and Jisung's status, treating them just like they would Mark.

When the royal family had first arrived, some of their entourage would shoot Donghyuck dirty looks when they would find him sparring with Mark, turning their lip when Mark would ruffle Jisung's hair. But Mark had spoken with his parents, a conversation passing between the Hazelwick family and the royals, and the looks had stopped.

The trio took the four boys all around the castle, Jisung bouncing on the balls of his feet when he had gotten to show them his favourite parts of the castle's gardens. "You're definitely a Western boy," Jaemin had grinned, "full of spring."

Jeno even lets Donghyuck spar with him, after he had caught Mark's sword clattering out of his hands as a victorious Donghyuck stood over him. They had spent all afternoon filling the grounds with the sounds of metal against metal until Donghyuck truly felt as if his arms were going to fall off.

Seventh Moon.

Once, when they're all splayed out on the ground together with the stars above them, Jaemin tells him in a hushed voice. "You know, you look like someone I used to know."

Donghyuck's heart skips a beat. "Really?"

"Yeah," Jaemin whispers, quiet for a moment as he took in the night sky above them. "I don't know where he is now though.

It was Donghyuck's turn to be quiet, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I'm sure he's okay," he finally whispers back.

"I hope so."

Tenth Moon.

"There have been some strange attacks around the kingdom recently," Mark says, pursing his lips.

"What type of attacks?" asks Donghyuck from where he's stretched out in an armchair. The stained glass windows are filtering shades of blue and green down upon their group, Jaemin's light hair looking turquoise in the light.

"They seem almost random," Jeno says, "that's what's weird about them. They're not done in the same way—bow and arrows, raids, some simply physical."

"Then how do we know that they're linked?" It's Chenle who asks, but Donghyuck spots Renjun ready to ask the same question.

"The description of the attackers is always the same: dark hoods, gloves and an emblem with a burning tower."

Donghyuck froze. "The Shae," he whispers. He catches Mark's gaze, sympathy brimming in the older boy’s eyes.

"They're Shae attacks," he affirms gently as if he can tell that Donghyuck's mind is flashing back to that night, to the sight of his home in flames while his grandmother's last words to him ring in his ears.

Eleventh Moon.

"There have been more attacks," he hears Mark whisper to Jisung across the room. "We still don't know what they're looking for."

"You think they know that Donghyuck-hyung is here?" murmurs Jisung.

Mark is quiet for a moment until he says something so soft that Donghyuck almost doesn't catch it. "I don't know."

Donghyuck pulls his covers tighter around his body and tries to calm his racing heart.

Sixteenth Winter

First Moon.

When Donghyuck was little, he would curl up with his grandmother in front of the fire and listen to her sing the stories of the four kingdoms. The Northern Kingdom, who Mae had made first and who she had loved dearly, gifting a special few with the power to manipulate the earth in the same way that she could.

"Fire?" he had asked his grandmother while she sang, pointing to his chest.

"Yes, my young one, she gave you the gift of fire. Listen carefully to the rest, okay?"

And so he nodded, laying his head on her knee as she sang about the second kingdom that Mother Mae had created; the new life that she had breathed into the world, no longer the icy scapes of the Northern Kingdom, but gentle breezes. Mother Mae had tried to give these new lands to her beloved first children—the rolling hills and warmed earth—but they had declined.

Instead, they stayed faithful to the land that she had first made them, making friends with those from the Western Kingdom instead. They had learned, through their hearths and through their care, of a warmth of their own found under the snow.

Summer, as he was told, was Mae's next creation, a world of sunshine and ocean water. A testament to the wonders that Mae possessed. "Sandy the beaches lie, with water lapping at its toes," his grandmother would sing. "Rejoicing was the world to experience such light."

And finally, the Eastern Kingdom, Mae's bridge back to the Northern Kingdom. "Had they grown lonely?" Donghyuck had asked, wondering what had become of his people.

"The West and South were bursting with sun, my dear child, a brightness us Northerners are not used to finding. We had grown colder as they had basked in the warmth that we only knew how to create ourselves. So she gave us the East, giving them magic of their own; a road leading back to us."

"Mae loves us very much."

"She does, Hyuck-ah, so very much."

And yet he had still asked, "but why do the Shae exist?"

His grandmother had smiled gently, the same smile that graced her face in the portrait that had been made for her coronation day. "The Shae were not Mae's creation, never would she have been able to make something so cruel. They were born of the shadows as a mirror of the four kingdoms because they were jealous of the love that she had given her people."

Her fingers corded through his hair softly while the flames from the fireplace flickering over them. "Do not allow them to frighten you, my braveheart, for the Shae are only a darkened reflection. You are the light and that is what Mae has gifted all of her children with."

Yet surely, Donghyuck thinks to himself—winters later on what would have been his royal ceremony day—he has failed her. The Shae he had not supposed to fear had taken his home from him; taken his family.

Maybe if he had feared them—stayed—he would be back there now, preparing for his ceremony. For the day that his grandmother, the Queen of the Northern Kingdom, would recognise him as her next heir, announcing his gifts officially to the four kingdoms and asking for Mae's blessing.

He sucks in a breath, letting it fill his lungs entirely before he let it out as slowly as he could manage. Faintly, he hears the sounds of Jisung getting ready over on his side of the room, sheets rustling as the younger makes his bed for that morning.

Finally, Donghyuck finds the strength to sit up. Jisung grins at him. "Happy birthday, hyung," he says gently before his smile widens and he adds on, "I had to get it in before Mark comes to tell you as well."

A laugh bubbles its way up Donghyuck's throat and he lets fall from his lips, feeling it lessen some of the weight across his shoulders.

"Thanks, Jisungie."

"Always, hyung."

Mark had burst into their room just as they were about to leave for the morning, slinging his arm around Donghyuck's shoulders as he sang a jumbled Happy Birthday. Jisung had joined in, not before telling Mark that he had won that year, getting to tell Donghyuck first.

Mark had had to leave the two of them when they set out, called away to his lessons. Jisung and Donghyuck trek out into the early summer morning, enjoying the soft rays of the sun making its way over the horizon. They're just making their way around a corner when Donghyuck hears a strange sound, like a taut bowstring being released, and something sharp meets his chest.

Donghyuck staggers, hand flying to his chest only to meet with thin wood between his fingertips. An arrow, he thinks distantly, as he pulls his hand away to see blood staining his fingers. There's a cry from Jisung, loud and shrill in his ears, and all of a sudden Donghyuck finds himself on his knees.

He can feel Jisung's hands on his shoulders, gripping tight, but the last thing that Donghyuck sees before his vision fades is his grandmother's face. My braveheart, don't give up, the last thing he hears.

Jisung is terrified. His hands are shaking badly from where they cradle Donghyuck. The boy had begun to tip forward, his eyes sliding shut, and Jisung hadn't been able to help himself from crying out again.

There was an arrow in Donghyuck's chest, someone had shot him, someone had tried to kill him. He barely notices the footsteps that approach him, until a hand enters his peripheral vision. Jisung acts instinctively, letting out a sound similar to a growl and clutching Donghyuck closer to him. All that runs through his mind is shielding Donghyuck, the boy who had grown to be his brother, who had promised to protect him forever.

New footsteps approach.

"Jisung," a voice calls out to him in the haze, then, dropping gentler the voice murmurs a soft, "Jisungie."

Slowly, Jisung lifts his head to see Mark hovering across from him, settling a hand over Jisung's fingers clutched around Donghyuck's shoulder.

"It's me. It's us," Mark says gently, pointing over his shoulder to Jeno and Jaemin who hover behind them cautiously. "We're here, we're going to help him, okay?"

Jisung realises that he's barely breathing. "Hyung," he gasps out, desperate.

"I know," Mark reassures and it's then that Jisung spots the tears that have formed in Mark's eyes. "We're going to get him help."

Jisung lets his grip loosen on Donghyuck, letting Mark reach down to lift Donghyuck off the ground. Distantly, he registers Chenle next to him, winding an arm around Jisung's shoulders, not caring about the blood that’s splattered on Jisung's hands. All he can think of is Donghyuck, the arrow pooling blood around his body as the boy’s eyes slipping closed.

Donghyuck's chest aches.

Someone has wrapped a bandage around it, he can feel it beneath his shirt. Every breath tugs at the cut, spiking pain through him. After a moment, he finds the strength to open his eyes. He's met with the sloping roof of the infirmary and when he turns his head to the side he finds Jisung, slumped in one of the chairs, his fists balled in his lap.

His eyes dart up when he notices Donghyuck moving, rising to his feet almost immediately. "Hyung, you're awake."

"Morning, Sungie," Donghyuck mumbles with a half-grin.

"Yah, hyung, you scared the crap out of me."

Somehow Donghyuck finds the strength to pull one of his hands out from the bedsheets and lay it across Jisung's wrist. "I promised to protect you, didn't I? I had to come back and keep my promise," he whispers.

"You scared all of us," a voice from the other side of his bed says, his tone holding no real bite. Mark smiles a little ruefully when Donghyuck glances over at him.

"What happened?" he finds himself asking, noticing the other four who have gathered around his bed.

"You were shot," Mark tells him, tracing his fingers over Donghyuck's palm.

"When we arrived, you had already lost a lot of blood," Jeno continues. "We had to race you to the infirmary so the nurses could try everything they could."

Mark stops tracing his fingers over Donghyuck's palm so he can interlace their fingers and squeeze his hand. "We don't know why it happened, or why you."

"It wasn't random, hyung," Jisung says quietly, even as all of their gazes snap to him. "It was someone who knew, I know," he continues, staring up at Mark. "They had the emblem, the mark of the Shae. I saw it. They weren't after me. They were looking directly at him. They knew."

Mark gets to his feet and begins to pace.

"What do you mean they knew?" ask Renjun, sitting up in his chair. "Why would someone be after Haechan?"

Jisung and Mark share a look. Donghyuck lets out a heavy sigh, eyes finding Jaemin's gaze. "My name isn't Haechan," he says. Realisation dawns in Jaemin's face as he braces himself for what Donghyuck is going to say next. "My birth name is Donghyuck. Lee Donghyuck."

The air in the room stills. Jaemin's gaze is still locked with Donghyuck's.

A whisper of holy shit falls from Chenle's lips.

"I knew that I recognised you," Jaemin whispers softly.

Donghyuck reaches up to his collar, pulling out the compass that hangs from his neck, emblazoned with the crest of the Northern Kingdom.

"How are you alive?" Jeno mutters, eyes wide.

"They never found a body," Renjun says as if only registering the words as he said them. "They never captured him."

"I escaped," Donghyuck admitted.

"So many people would kill to get their hands on you," Jeno murmurs, his eyes still blown wide.

"Well, they're not going to touch him," Jisung growls, shifting his body so that he's leaning over Donghyuck—shielding him. Mark steps closer as well, looking unsure.

Jeno looked panicked. "That's not what I meant, I’m sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"We're not turning him in," Jaemin said, meeting each of their gazes. "We're your friends."

"We would never," Chenle affirms, trying for a smile.

After a tense moment, Jisung's shoulders relax, shifting back into his seat. Donghyuck's heart eases, letting his love for his friends dilute the worry that had been building there.

"What are you going to do now?" Renjun asks, looking at Donghyuck with something the younger can't quite place dancing in his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"The Northern Kingdom," Renjun says like it's an answer.

"What about it?" Donghyuck lets the feeling of defeat press down onto his shoulders. "My kingdom is in shambles, it has basically been run to the ground by the Shae."

"But you're the heir," presses on Renjun.

"There is nothing that I can do for it anymore. I've never even finished my training, hell I'd barely even started on diplomacy, let alone running a whole Kingdom."

"Haecha– Donghyuck," Renjun says firmly, with a fire blazing in his eyes. "You're a myth to almost all of us. You're a legend to the four kingdoms. You're– you're the last living heir to the Northern Kingdom. You don't want to do something?" Donghyuck understood at that moment why Renjun had been selected to become a royal advisor.

"Of course I do. I wish I could do something to help them. But what can I do?"

"You could go back," Jaemin murmurs gently. "They may have invaded your home, but they can't change the people. They’re still your people. The people who have always loved you, who have always looked up to your grandmother and your family for leadership. Hyuck, you're one of Mae's children."

"We all are," Donghyuck tries to counter.

Jaemin shakes his head with a smile. "You're one of her favourites. You're gifted. Fated."

"Just consider it," Renjun adds softly. "We're by your side either way."

Donghyuck doesn't know how to respond. His eyes fall on Jisung, who's sitting next to him, twisting his hands in Donghyuck's bedsheets.

"What is it, Jisung?" Donghyuck prompts.

"Hyung. You've protected me ever since you were eleven summers old and I was just some kid you found in a forest. I believe in you."

"But this is a kingdom that we're talking about."

"No," Jisung smiles, "it's your kingdom."

Donghyuck steps out onto the balcony after his grandmother, a wave of applause ringing out through the courtyard upon their arrival. His grandmother greets them all warmly, extending a wave and a smile to her people, and Donghyuck sees not just his grandmother but the woman born to lead a nation in the set of her shoulders. 

"It's our duty," she would tell him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, "above all else, to care for our people and enable them to continue to prosper. The people are where we find our history and our purpose. Like my father before me and his sister before him and our ancestors who have walked the earth ever since Mae created us. It's the legacy which will one day be yours."

His lessons had taught him diplomacy, his sparring teaching him how to protect, his grandmother passing on the knowledge of how to rule. But people, love and care would always lie at the heart of the Northern Kingdom, who had survived together through the harshest storms and the coldest nights.

"You are their leader, my braveheart, just as much as they are your people."

"What do you think, Mark?" Donghyuck asks him a couple of days later when they're alone. The leaves rustle a gentle song in the wind above them, the sun streaming down through the leaves.

"I think that it's up to you, Hyuck. I think that this should be a choice that you get to make." His smile is gentle when he says, "it wasn't your choice whether or not you got to stay in your home, I think it should be your choice if you want to return."

Donghyuck lets the words sink it, holding them close. "Do you think I could do it?" he asks, letting the vulnerability slip into his voice.

"Hyuck, of course you can. You've got– you've got the kindest heart.” My braveheart, echoes a voice in the back of Donghyuck’s mind. “I can see it,” Mark tells him, “in the way that you've taken care of Jisung all these years, in the way that you've taken care of me, and the others and everyone around you. I know how you treat the stable kids whenever we get new ones in, or when you're helping the squires train. I know how kind you are to everyone here."

Mark reaches out to slot his fingers through Donghyuck's. "Something terrible happened to you, something that no one should have to go through. But look what you've become. Do you know what I see when I look at you?"

"What?" Donghyuck whispers, with bated breath.

"Someone born to rule."

There's something warm in Mark's eyes, dancing around those flecks of gold, something gentle and inviting that gives Donghyuck the courage to ask his next question.

"Would you come with me?"

Mark grins. "I'd follow you anywhere," he whispers, the words sounding like a promise on his tongue, as potent as a confession. 

At the gentle press of Mark's lips against his own, Donghyuck understands. So he curls his arms around Mark's neck and makes a promise of his own.

Second Moon.

Donghyuck tightens his hold on his horse's reins, steading his mare. He spots Chenle helping Jisung up onto his horse and Jeno teasing Renjun about looking small atop his horse. He watches as Jaemin gives a wave to his parents, and smiles widely when he catches Mark's gaze.

Donghyuck casts one last gaze at the rolling waves of the beach and pulls out his compass from around his neck. For the first time in six winters, Donghyuck sets his direction north.

fin.