Chapter Text
“We got a live one.” His oldest brother grinned, slapping a firm hand onto him. Hongjoong tried not to move a muscle, but his body betrayed him as his shoulder wavered just a little at the force.
“A live witch?” Hongjoong asked, biting the corners of his mouth as his brother smiled.
“That’s right. Picked it up in Harlington. Father’s pulling it from the wagon right now. Guess what? It’s a male.”
“A male?” He blinked. “Has father ever caught one before?”
“A rare one, right?” His brother laughed, almost breathless. The sunlight setting behind him set the Kim’s field alight in a bright autumn glow. Hongjoong could barely see it with how much he was hanging onto his brother’s words. His fingers twitched.
“Father’s first one in a long time.” Hongsik continued. “You should see it. It’ll be good for you to experience what it’s like seeing one in person.”
“Right now?” Hongjoong stuttered, excitement and anxiety both threatening to burst from his chest in a heavy wave.
“Come,” Hyunsik said. “We can go together.”
Hongjoong trailed behind his brother. All chores were forgotten as he peppered his brother with questions on the way back up to the house.
“How did you catch him? Is he powerful? Was it dangerous?”
His brother laughed, shaking his head. “I’m sure father would want to be the one to tell you. To be honest with you, I wasn’t even in the room when it happened. It was totally by chance that the anima crystal picked up that someone in the inn we were staying at was a witch.”
“Really?” Hongjoong’s eyes were wide as they approached the old stone home. It was a dull, yet mighty building, big enough to house all of their siblings and a few maids comfortably. The setting sun glowed against the building’s walls as the horses were taken back to the stable by some of their father’s men.
Hongjoong saw their father in the distance and quickly approached him, eager to hear the man’s story. His father, he had realised quite some time ago, seemed to grow more and more grey hairs each time he came home. The grey had almost defeated the black by now, but the hair still sat atop a tall, heavy man with a strong warrior’s build.
“Hongjoong.” His father greeted. Each time he came home Hongjoong too used to notice that his own height slowly came closer and closer to meeting that of his father. He used to think that, like Hongsik, the day would eventually come that he would be eye-level with his father when he came home with a witch to burn. He was past such fantasies now, but the thought still entered his mind whenever his father and his men returned. He raised his neck to meet his father’s eyes.
“Is there really a male witch there?” He said, spying the small wagon several feet away. It was an old thing, rust and splinters covering it from head to toe, but an obvious lump underneath an old blanket was a dead giveaway.
“Definitely.” His father said. “The crystals never lie. We found it a few days ago. Luckily it seems one of the powerless males, but we’re not taking any chances.”
Their father approached the wagon, two sons at his heels. When they got closer, Hongjoong realised that the blanket wasn’t just covering the creature inside. It had been tied up within the blanket, like it was already a corpse. It certainly seemed like one, stiff and unmoving, until Hongsik reached both hands out to untie the blanket from its form. The creature flinched at the touch, wiggling slightly, but not outwardly struggling.
Hongjoong had never seen a living witch, only the dead bodies of those his father took home to burn.
“It’s best they burn on hallowed ground.” His father had explained to his younger self.
“Decreases the chances of hauntings. Nothing evil can overcome the spiritual energy of an old family house such as the Kims. They must be taken and burned here.”
“Why do you kill them first?” A smaller Hongjoong had asked, eyes wide. “Yunho’s father said the best way to kill a witch was with a pyre, and burning alive.”
“Yunho’s father isn’t a witch hunter, boy.” His father had said. “He knows nothing of their power. I’d rather not ever have to bring a live witch to our home and onto our grounds.”
Hongsik whipped the blanket off the top half of the witch, taking a few quick steps back afterwards, like the creature might somehow still hurt him despite its condition.
Hongjoong knew that witches were always beautiful. He’d seen them before, dead bodies tied to pyres. They were always beautiful. He knew this, yet he still wasn’t prepared.
The creature's eyes opened and shut, unused to the brightness of the afternoon sun. Eyes landed first on the house and courtyard before him, then to Hongjoong’s father, then his brother, then him.
The eyes bored into his. Hongjoong saw the long, delicate eyelashes, angular eyebrows, and the perfect cheekbones. Long, slender fingers came out of the blanket to grip delicately onto the wood of the wagon beneath it. He barely saw the latter, consumed as he suddenly was.
“Witches, given enough time, can tempt even the purest of hearts into evil and ruin.” His father’s words echoed.
The witch’s head cocked to the side, examining him. Time stood still, and Hongjoong’s breath caught in his throat as he was hit with the urge to vomit, to cry, to laugh, to sing, all at once.
“Witch.” His father said. The creature’s eyes left Hongjoong’s, and the moment was over. The witch stared blankly at his father as he approached. His father reached into his pocket. The witch was already flinching when the crystal emerged, the old man holding it out on its string towards the wagon.
A bright mix of purples and blues suddenly enveloped the witch’s skin. The servants and men still lingering in the courtyard froze in place as the witch let out a whimper, body curling in on itself as the crystal grew nearer and nearer.
“You will come with us peacefully.” Hongjoong’s father said sternly. “If you do, you will die honorably at the hands of the king. If you do not, well…”
The crystal grew close, until it touched the skin of the witch’s cheek. The horses in the yard next to them made distrubed noises as the witch screamed, skin turning red and sizzling at the contact. The witch’s hands gripped the edge of the wagon until it’s knuckles turned white.
Their father eventually took mercy, pulling the crystal back and returning it to his pocket. The witch’s body reverted back to its ordinary pale shade, a few huffed breaths and a sweating brow the only indication of its mistreatment.
Other than the bright red burn across its otherwise perfect cheek.
A smell met Hongjoong’s nose, one like some sweet flower. He wasn’t expecting the scent, and he clenched his fist as memory after memory hit him.
Witch after witch. All already dead, a mercy as much as a precaution. All burning upon a pyre.
“Witches don’t burn like normal people, Hongjoong. They aren’t normal people, they’re creatures. Look at it, dead for weeks, yet still no touch of decay. It’s ungodly, a demon. The smell of its burning is pleasing to us, surely it is god telling us that it’s the right thing to do. It must burn and burn until there is nothing left.”
The flowery scent disappeared swiftly into the wind, but the angry red burn upon the creature’s cheek remained.
“You will die.” The words of his father continued. “But how much pain you wish to encounter before that time is up to you.”
He stepped away, and the two sons followed as men grabbed the witch and dragged it away. Hongjoong eyed the witch's rope rubbing the creature’s wrists raw, relieved that it wasn’t going to harm them as long as the bonds remained tight.
“Will you both go to the Citadel? To meet the king, then?” Hongjoong bounced on his feet slightly. His brother stiffened at the words, muscular back tensing up.
“Not your brother.” Their father said. Hongjoong blinked, eyes darting between the two.
“You and I are.”
“Me?” Hongjoong stuttered. Their father nodded.
“Why not? You’re old enough to start going out and seeing the world. Besides, your mother will end us all if your brother is not married soon.”
Hongjoong’s brother grumbled, clearly tired of this conversation.
“Hongsik will be back to witch hunting soon enough. It’s high time we started on some grandchildren.” Their father said. Hongjoong tried not to snigger at his brother’s uncomfortable face, witch temporarily forgotten at the sight.
Later, the family met for dinner. The servant had just placed the final dish, two fat chickens from the barn, onto the table, covered with the finest spices from the capital. Hongjoong’s younger siblings’ excitement was palpable as they dug into the meat, eager as they always were to grow taller and taller.
“He’s not ready.” Their mother’s disapproval shot across the table, worry etched into her face.
“He’s a grown man.” Their father disagreed, one hand on a chicken leg as he shook his head.
“You weren’t here enough. You don’t know what it was like, when he was young.” Their mother picked up her glass of wine, a frown deep in her features. “Always so ill, struggling to breathe at night, never having the appetite for anything. It affects him, even now. Why else would a Kim son be so small compared to his father and brother?”
“You know nothing of what I have and haven’t seen of his pain.” Their father’s voice was stiff and cold as ice. The children froze, even the eldest two sons' grips tightening on their cutlery at the way their father spoke.
“He hasn’t had a problem in years. And besides, he’s still my son. I won’t go to the capital with a male witch without an unmarried son at my side.”
“So that’s why?” Hongjoong huffed a laugh. It all made sense now. “Hongsik is already promised to someone else, and you want to see if there’s any lords or ladies with daughters desperate enough to go for me?”
“You’re the second son of the Kim’s, boy.” Their father scolded. “You knew it would come to this one day.”
“Maybe that’s not the worst idea.” His mother said. Her anger had tempered, Hongjoong noticed, attracted to the notion of having another daughter-in-law so soon after she would gain the first. He sighed, appetite all but disappearing.
Eventually, dinner ended, and Hongjoong retired with as much anger as he could bear.
“We leave in two days, Hongjoong.” His father said. “Just enough time to give the horses and men a rest, and resupply. I won’t have a witch staying under the beds of my children for any longer than that.”
Once in bed, Hongjoong tossed and turned, feet tangling up in the soft blanket. The moon was high in the sky that night, peeking in through the gap in his bedroom window. He replayed the events of the day in his mind, somewhat unbelievingly.
So he was to escort a male witch with his father to the capital, while his brother was to be married to a girl. And soon, perhaps he was to be too.
Witches. Male witches. He recalled his lessons easily. Male witches were rare, most offspring in families cursed with witchcraft being female. Most male witches were weak, having almost no powers at all. But the ones that did…
Hongjoong shivered against his pillow.
The ones that did had power unmatched to any other. His childhood bedtimes were filled with the stories of male witches, crazed with power and wreaking havoc on the world. They had the power to destroy lands, cripple kingdoms. At least the one he had met today seemed to be of the powerless kind, if how easy he was to apprehend was anything to go by. According to his brother, the witch had surrendered immediately at the sight of their father’s anima crystal.
“Are witches born mad?” Hongjoong had asked once, when he was younger and filled with relentless questions.
“Yes.” His mother had said.
“Father, are witches born mad?” He had asked the question once more, unsatisfied with the answer. But why, he hadn’t known.
His father took some time to consider his response, and it was one that stuck with Hongjoong.
“No, son. They are not.” His father had said. “They are born, little girls, and little boys, just like us. But slowly, their powers drive them mad. By the time they are adults, there’s not a sane one left. It is why they must all be dealt with.”
“Then what do you do when you meet a child witch?”
His father would not answer. He wondered now. He had never seen a witch younger than a teenager brought in to be burned. And his father’s men made an event of it, constructing elaborate pyres each time they returned back to the house, with half the neighboring village coming to watch the spectacle. He remembered each and every one.
He thought about the witch from earlier, how he must feel in the dark, cold cells beneath the house. Could witches feel the cold? Did witches sleep? Was the witch awake now, fearful of his inevitable death? Did witches even feel fear? Perhaps not. Powers made the witches go insane of course, and-
Hongjoong darted up in his bed, eyes wide. He flung the covers back, putting on a coat as he reached for his shoes. He tiptoed out of his room, grateful for his status as an elder child of the family and subsequent private bedroom. The moonlight lit up his way through the open windows, a cool early autumn breeze hitting his hair as he made his way down, down, down the depths underneath the house.
The guard at the entrance to the cells gave him a look, but let him pass. He knew he would face questions from his father the next day, but he couldn’t resist. He had to know.
He passed cell after cell, each one as empty as the one that came before it. Soon he reached the end, the last and deepest door of the underground. The torch in his hand lit up the area surrounding him, well enough for him to see the figure slumped over in the small, cold cell before him.
The creature lifted its head, long dark hair messily framing its fair face in the dim glow of the fire. It’s eyes were half-lidded, and Hongjoong wondered if he had woken it up. He glanced at the ropes binding the witch. Even in the poor light he could see that its wrists were tinged red with the beginnings of a rash.
For a few moments, all they did was stare at one another. Hongjoong remembered the strange feeling he had gotten the first time he had made eye contact with the witch, only hours before. The strange mixture of emotions. Now he felt nothing, only a burning desire to speak with it.
“What’s your name?” He asked first.
“Seonghwa.” It answered, voice slightly hoarse. That was when Hongjoong noticed just how deep the bags under the witch’s eyes were. It looked tired, in a way that it wasn’t before. Was that from interrupted sleep, or had something happened to it in between that moment and the last time Hongjoong had seen it?
“Seonghwa.” Hongjoong said, testing the word out.
“You’re Hongjoong.” The witch said. It shifted in its spot, inching closer to the cell door. Hongjoong resisted the urge to take a step back.
“Yes.” Hongjoong said stiffly. The witch stared at him, those bright, doe eyes barely blinking. It was terrifying and enthralling all at once to have a creature such as him so close.
“You’ve come here to ask me questions.” The witch said after a time. “Why haven’t you started yet?”
Hongjoong let out a breath, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another.
“I just wanted to know.” He began. The witch continued to stare at him, eyes eager. For a moment it was as if the witch was the benign one, and Hongjoong the legendary creature.
Hongjoong tried not to stutter at the unending stare. “I just wanted to, um. Well…”
“You don’t want to get married.” The witch spoke up suddenly.
Hongjoong flinched. “W-What?”
How could it possibly know?
“You’re not like other men.” The witch continued. It had finally stopped appraising Hongjoong, eyes now focused on inspecting the bonds at its wrists in the new-found light of the torch.
Hongjoong’s back stiffened.
“I’m as strong as any man.” He said. “Just because I-”
“What?” The witch interrupted. It’s voice was unmistakably confused, lips pursing at Hongjoong’s words. “Oh, that. I didn’t mean that.”
“Well, what did you mean?” Hongjoong hit back, teeth clenched.
“I don’t think that’s the question you wanted to ask me.” The witch replied, pursed lip changing form until it resembled a smile. Hongjoong felt a growing frustration at the answer.
He was also reminded once more of the beauty of witches, and a part of his heart suddenly hurt as he looked at the thing that, for all purposes, resembled a very pretty young man.
But it couldn’t possibly know about that part of him…
“You were taken so easily by my father and brother.” Hongjoong began, watching the other carefully. It didn’t move a muscle, staring right back at Hongjoong again with an unshakable intensity.
“You were bound with witch’s rope, and harmed by the crystal. And now you’re doomed. You’re going straight to the capital, where the king’s scientists have found a way to kill you and dispose of your body.”
“Dispose of my body?” The witch quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t know as much as you think you do about what happens to people like me in the capital.”
“What?” Hongjoong’s train of thought had been shaken once more by the witch.
“I heard rumors about the secret method.” The witch’s tone had grown hushed, like it was speaking up about some interesting gossip.
“I heard that they roast us alive there, deep in the bowels of the citadel.” The witch said it with such a casualness that Hongjoong shook his head disbelievingly.
“And you let this happen to you!” Hongjoong said. “You didn’t stop your capture at all. You didn’t even try.”
The witch shrugged. “You’re from a witch-hunting family. You know that most male witches have little to no powers.”
“Exactly.” Hongjoong resisted the urge to pace as the implications spun through his head.
“You knew terrible things would happen to you, but you couldn’t escape, because you don’t have any powers. Perhaps if you were a girl, you could have. Or if you were one of the rare males with powers. But if you had powers, you’d be so strong that you’d have just blown a hole in the building, or something. But you’re not. You don’t have any powers at all. Other than being creepy.”
“What’s your point?” The witch’s tone seemed bored, but his eye’s contained a sparkle that lit up the cell almost as much as the torch light.
“If you don’t have powers, how are you insane?” Hongjoong finished. He let out a breath as the words left his lips, staring with rapt attention at the cell’s occupant.
The witch’s head cocked this way and that, the sparkle in his eyes never fading as he considered his reply.
“That’s a good question to ask, Kim Hongjoong.” He smiled. “Maybe your father has a more comfortable answer than one I could give you.”
“I don’t want a comfortable answer.” Hongjoong said.
He knew witches were natural tricksters. He wished he had rehearsed more about what he was going to say before he came to the cells.
“Have you considered that, perhaps, I am not insane?”
Hongjoong let out a laugh. The witch’s lips curled up into a smile. Despite the grime of the road and wound on his cheek, he was the picture of an angelic beauty.
“If you’re not mad,” Hongjoong said. “And you have no powers, then why must we kill you?”
“Again,” the witch said. “I’m sure your father could give you a more comfortable answer.”
It was with that, Hongjoong reluctantly decided that it was time for a more comfortable answer.
The following morning, his father collected him from the dining room.
“You know what I’m about to ask.” His father said. He was dressed in more casual clothes that day, now that the horses were resting. Hongjoong realised that it had been over a year since he had seen his father out of his riding clothes.
“I did speak with it last night.” Hongjoong confessed. His father, to his surprise, didn’t look angry.
“And did you get the answers you sought?”
Hongjoong slowly shook his head.
“Let me guess,” his father said. “You received only more questions?”
Hongjoong shrugged, not quite brave enough to meet his father's eyes. The old man sighed, a hand going down to lie on his smaller son’s shoulder.
“Did it at least tell you anything interesting?” He asked. “You know, it hasn’t spoken a word since we caught it. I’m surprised it spoke to you at all.”
“His name is Seonghwa.” He said. “That’s all I found out.”
“That’s good.” His father said. “Try to get more out of it on the road, if you can. A witch has a family, and if we can find out where it came from, the kingdom will be much better off.”
Hongjoong nodded. “But.. I did want to ask you about one thing.”
“Of course.” His father said.
“You told me that witches go mad because of their powers.” He began hesitantly, watching his father’s expression. “But he doesn’t have any powers.”
His father frowned deeply at his words.
“Hongjoong.” The word was laced with disapproval already, and Hongjoong winced. “The anima crystal lit it up, the scent of flowers followed its burning body. You know it is not something that can be kept alive.”
He knew. Somehow, his father already knew what he was going to say. It felt like everyone did these days, and Hongjoong stuffed the frustration down, knowing it wouldn’t do him much good.
“We kill witches because they cause harm to others.” Hongjoong recited. “But if he can’t cause any more harm than a normal person, then why-”
“After one evening you know all about what it’s capable of?” His father’s words cut through him like a knife. “You know better than this. For all we know, it’s hiding its true powers. For all we know, it could be plotting to end all of us. Even if it turns out that the creature cannot manipulate fire, or water, or the air or the stinking earth at our feet, it’s still a witch. Still capable of the manipulation, of the temptation. Of knowing things that it shouldn’t know, out of nowhere. And most damningly, breeding more of its kind.”
“You could just sterilise people like him.” Hongjoong said, latching onto what he could. His father let out a long sigh, and Hongjoong very quickly felt like a small child all over again.
“One evening was all it took, Hongjoong?” His father said.
The son blinked quickly several times in incomprehension. His father suddenly looked so disappointed. The feeling that came with the look didn’t feel great in Hongjoong’s chest.
“All your life, we’ve trained you on how to see them. And already, you are calling it a ‘him.’”
“No I’m not.” Hongjoong said, but he knew his father, and he knew this was an argument he would lose. “I… well I guess I…”
“You forgot the most vital thing. They are not human. It is as much a man as the dirt beneath us is a cloud in the sky. If you are unwilling to see that, then perhaps you are not ready to leave home.”
Hongjoong should have been happy about this. If he didn’t leave the home, then the idea of a betrothal was much less likely. But something in him still had him denying it despite that.
“No!” He said harshly. “I’m ready. I want to go with you.”
His father tutted. “Do not allow yourself to slip up again. You are a Kim, and soon witches’ blood will be on your hands, as it has been on all our hands for generations.”