Chapter Text
It’s fastening the leather straps of his knapsack that finally gives Minho pause. Deep in his gut, he knows he’s going to go through with this no matter what, but he’s hardly stopped to think at all since he’d first hatched this plan. For just a few moments, he stares at the plain knapsack, unassuming and pathetically out of place amidst the finery of his chambers.
The thoughts swirling around his head are chaotic. He can’t seem to make sense of them, to stay focused on one concern long enough to form a coherent thought, and the turbulence of his own mind worries him. He reminds himself that calming his mind is the reason for his running away, even if it isn’t quite true.
He doesn’t allow himself a final fleeting touch of the silk sheets he’s leaving behind, nor a final glance at the bedroom he’d grown up in—the large window overlooking the gardens, the tapestry Jeongin had clumsily woven for his birthday three years prior, the minute portrait of his mother, tucked safely under his pillow. Seeing these things won’t stop him, they’ll just make the parting more painful. So, without further ado, he slings the knapsack over his shoulder and turns towards the door.
He jumps as he is met with Jeongin’s gray eyes peeking at him from the doorway.
“Minho,” he says timidly, stepping in the room and fastening the door behind him. For just a moment, he considers chucking the knapsack away and getting under his covers, playing the whole thing off long enough for Jeongin to leave, but he’d never get away with it.
So, Minho doesn’t respond. He assumes the situation speaks enough for him—his rough, unassuming peasant clothes he’d snatched from the servants’ laundry, the ugly knapsack, the dagger buckled to his belt. Jeongin takes him in, reading the situation and coming to a realization slowly.
“You’re leaving.” It’s an accusation that stabs him right in the gut, because it’s true. He’s leaving and he shouldn’t—he can’t leave Jeongin alone. This is precisely the reason he’d been leaving when his little brother was supposed to be asleep.
“You shouldn’t be awake,” Minho says, drawing himself up to his full height. It’s a shame that his little brother, despite his sickliness, has finally caught up to him in terms of height; he feels much less intimidating when Jeongin can look him easily in the eye. He reminds himself that Jeongin is the only one who will look him in the eye, anyway, and supposes he should be grateful.
Jeongin’s still blocking the door; it’s a conversation he can’t avoid. Flight had won in the fight-or-flight battle, but his brother is blocking him from doing that. “I saw the vials you stacked on my dresser,” he says, by way of explanation. Minho had known that would be suspicious, the one thing to give him away early, but he was counting on his brother’s lack of observational skills to pull through yet again. Perhaps it was too many for even Jeongin to ignore. “Two dozen, so you’ll be gone… two years?”
Minho wants badly to make a smart remark back, but something wistful in Jeongin’s tone halts him. “I… I don’t know,” he admits. “If it’s more, I’ll come back to make you more medicine, I promise.”
Jeongin sighs, and he looks more adult then than Minho has ever seen him. “Isn’t it cowardly to run? Shouldn’t the crown prince demonstrate more bravery in the face of adversity?”
Jeongin just doesn’t get it, could never understand, Minho reminds himself, though he loves his brother dearly. “I’ve tried to be brave,” Minho reasons. “I’ve been brave for eighteen years. And now, I must prove my loyalty.”
“Must?” Jeongin doubts. “The only reason your loyalty has ever been doubted—by dissenters and fools, mind you—has been for something beyond your control.”
Minho’s jaw hardens, and a twinge of jealousy stabs his heart. Jeongin doesn’t understand, because Jeongin has never had to deal with the noisy whispers, the startled gasps, or any of the other subtle nonsense that Minho does because of his eyes. “Life is unfair,” he reminds his little brother. “Although it is beyond my control, I must work hard to assure the nation of my loyalty.” Jeongin tilts his head, looks like he’s about to argue again, but Minho doesn’t allow him to. “You are sick and I am well, Mother is dead and we live on, your eyes are noble gray and mine are the color of pond scum. Life is unfair,” he grits out through his teeth.
Whatever fight was left in Jeongin leaves at that remark, and he visibly deflates. Minho feels guilty, sensing he was too harsh, although his point was true. Everyone Minho has ever seen has the distinguished, slate-gray eyes that denote a Valley Dweller, save the beggars he’s seen on the streets the few times he’s left the castle, dressed in tatters and pleading for alms. The only reason he, with his slimy green eyes, is saved from such a fate, is his status as heir to the kingdom. Though, even then, he’s always considered himself to be on thin ice in his father’s eyes.
When his brother finally speaks, it just sounds sad. “So… you’re going to the Riverlands?”
Minho shifts his weight nervously. He’d felt confident in his plan, but explaining it aloud to Jeongin makes it far too concrete for his liking. “I’ll fit in among them,” he says. “I have their disgusting eyes.”
“And…” Jeongin considers, not having worked out how his brother planned to prove his loyalty yet. “…you’re going to… find your Other?”
Minho is filled with vitriol at the mere thought. It is something he’d thought about since his birth. To be fair, he’d been all but forced to think about it, given the violent reactions to his eyes. Not everybody has Others—they are wonderfully rare, and in another time, with another eye color, Minho might have been thrilled at the prospect. But his Other is River Scum, enemies of the Valley Dwellers since well before Minho’s time, and the suggestion that he wants to find his Other and live happily ever after with them is too indicative of Jeongin’s naïveté.
“If I find my Other,” he says lowly, his voice hardening, hands clenching into fists, “I’ll kill them on sight.”
“I’m no expert,” Jeongin says, “but I don’t think that’s how it works.” Others are a powerful thing, and it’s the other thing that scares Minho about it—the complete control the cosmic nonsense that are Others has over your life. The stories his mother told him growing up said that those who find their Others and look into their eyes are bound forever, drawn together more strongly than the most powerful magnet. Supposedly, they are the pieces of you that got separated at Creation—hence the name Other, like your other half. The idea sounds magical to Jeongin and suffocating to Minho.
Privately, Minho thinks that he’ll make it work. His whole life, he has felt nothing but animosity towards his potential Other. Knowing that somewhere out there, perhaps looking at the same moon, stars, and sun as him, is the person who has given him nothing but hardship, makes him feel angry rather than enamored.
Jeongin seems to realize that his brother won’t honor him with a response and adds, “Anyway, even if your Other is a Riverling, can’t you just… culture them? That’s what we’re doing now, isn’t it?” he points out. “Spreading our culture, teaching them the proper ways.”
It’s true, the Valley Dwellers have been on a mission of expansion for a few decades now. And, in the process of expanding their own lands, they’re educating and culturing the Riverlings who are too poor and savage to do it on their own. It’s a fair point by Jeongin that shows his recently developed maturity. It’s maturity that no others have shown Minho before—to others in the palace, his eye color marks him as a traitor, nothing more.
However mature a response, it doesn’t mean that Jeongin isn’t still too naïve for his own good. “Easier said than done,” Minho retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “The Riverlings are the type to fight against advancement and betterment. They’re fools.”
Jeongin sets his mouth in a hard line, as if Minho’s the one being unrealistic. Still, he stops pressing the issue, settling on the larger issue of his older brother running away from home. “Alright, so you’re not looking for your Other, necessarily. What do you seek?”
For the first time, Minho turns slightly away from his brother, gazing instead at the cold stone of the wall, the same color as the eyes of his people, as his brother’s eyes. “It’s no matter of yours, Innie.”
Jeongin glances suspiciously at his brother, before moving onto the next concern on his list. “And what will I tell Father?”
Minho scoffs. “Father won’t care. He’ll be relieved, I expect.”
“That’s not true,” Jeongin frowns, worry lines creasing his young forehead.
The King makes no secret of his disdain for Minho. His birth was not something that could be hidden, news of the king’s firstborn being cause for celebration through the whole kingdom. The celebration was abruptly killed when Minho calmed after birth, opened his eyes, and they saw they were the color of river sludge. There was no hiding to the kingdom that Minho had been born, of course, but they could hide him away and shield him from view. He isn’t even sure whether anyone outside of the palace knows of his disgrace or not.
Jeongin’s birth was a much quieter event, with just the queen and a handful of midwives present. The King only came once a midwife assured him that his second born had very handsome gray eyes.
Minho mirrors his brother’s expression, frowning back at him. There’s no point in arguing with Jeongin, not about this. So, instead, Minho shrugs. “Tell Father a beast broke into my chambers and mauled me. Tell Father I leapt from the observatory to my death. Tell Father I’ve locked myself in my chambers in shame, doing penitence for my disloyalty. I don’t care what you tell him, Jeongin.”
His eyes well with tears, likely at his brother’s harsh tone and lack of friendly, childish nickname. “How will I contact you?”
For the first time, Minho’s chest tightens. He loves his brother, truly does. Jeongin is the last shred of his mother that he has, and he’s always taken care of him. Hell, he’s the one his mother had entrusted with Jeongin’s medicine, the special potion she had faithfully brewed for him each month since his birth. And now, it falls to Minho. He had prepared the two dozen vials for Jeongin, but part of him did feel like he was betraying his mother, leaving him all alone.
“You won’t,” he says, forcing his voice to remain steady despite his throat closing. “I will go out to do my quest, and if I cannot finish it in two years, I’ll return in shame.”
“But you’ll stay, after that?” Jeongin asks, full of hope, nearly radiating it.
“I… cannot say,” Minho says. Two years is a long time, and there is no telling what will happen between then and now. But, if he cannot do it in two years, he must come home to make sure Jeongin has the medicine he needs. “But, I can promise you, you’ll see me again in two years, no matter what. I won’t abandon you.”
A tear slips down Jeongin’s cheek, and Minho can tell he’s trying his hardest to not let out a sob. “I’ll come with you.”
“No,” Minho refuses, knowing full well that Jeongin has no true intention of coming, anyway. He’s weak, often bedbound for weeks at a time. “Now, I’m going to go to the stables and take a horse. You’re going to go back to bed and pretend you didn’t see me this evening.”
Quicker than Minho has ever seen his brother move, he’s wrapped around his brother, shoulders shaking with his tears. “Don’t go, Minho, please,” he begs, wetting his peasant shirt with tears and snot.
“Hey,” Minho says, sterner than he normally would. He grabs Jeongin by the shoulders and pulls him away to look in his eyes. “It’s no way for the crown prince to be acting.” Jeongin’s eyes, still glassy with tears, widen at the realization that, in his brother’s absence, that’s exactly what he’ll become. “Stay strong, mind your tutors, and take your medicine properly.” All Jeongin can do is nod, though his lip is still quivering. “Come, your room is on the way to the stables.”
He forcibly walks Jeongin back to his room, keeping a tight grip on his shoulders. He tells himself it’s for Jeongin’s sake, but part of him thinks it might be for his own. The castle is quiet and dark, and they don’t talk as they walk. It isn’t until they reach Jeongin’s chambers than Minho wheels around to face him.
“Don’t wake Felix as you enter,” Minho warns, knowing that Jeongin is unusually close with his servant, and most nights Felix refuses to go back to the servants’ chambers.
Jeongin wraps him in one more surprisingly tight hug. “Be safe, Minho,” he whispers, and then he’s slipping quietly inside his own room, leaving Minho in the dark corridor. He pauses only for a moment before continuing down the side staircase to reach the stable.
The stableboy, Hyunjin, is a wannabe squire and dreadful at his current post. As Minho has learned through his past month of surveilling, he is also a night owl, and another potential snag in his plan. As he creeps into the stable, he can see the light from Hyunjin’s lantern coming from within a stall. Likely, he’s fallen asleep within putting it out, as is his habit, but he exercises caution anyway, waiting a few additional minutes to make sure he hears no sounds of movement.
Minho’s own steed, Soonie, is his since he’d begun riding, ten years ago now. He wouldn’t think of taking another, and Soonie stamps in excitement upon seeing him. “Shh, shh,” he calms, outstretching his hands to rub her muzzle. Silently, he saddles her. He’s inexperienced in this part. Normally, Hyunjin does it, but Hyunjin is an idiot, and Minho is pretty sure he can do it just as well.
Though he hadn’t spoken his name, it seems he’s jinxed himself, for he jumps when he hears behind him, “Need some help with that?”
It’s Hyunjin, of course the fool can’t sleep at night when he spends the afternoon napping. “I, uh… I’ve got it.”
“You’re putting it on backwards,” Hyunjin points out, rolling his eyes and bumping the crown prince aside to redo the saddling job. Normally, Minho would be annoyed by the disrespect, but he’s too busy trying to think of a plausible story. Luckily, Hyunjin provides him with one. “What is this, then, a midnight ride?”
“Yes,” Minho nods. “Just wanted to clear my head. Couldn’t sleep.”
Hyunjin shoots him a sideways glance, clearly not buying it. His hands pause and he turns fully to Minho, taking him in. He feels slightly self-conscious as his eyes rake up and down. “You shouldn’t be using this nice saddle,” he decides. “No one will believe that you’re some peasant riding around in fine leather. The horse will be a giveaway, too, but I doubt you’d leave Soonie behind.”
Hyunjin goes in search of another saddle without another word, leaving Minho blinking in shock at his words. He’s an idiot, Minho had been so sure, so how had he seen through him so easily? How had he so quickly assessed the situation and guessed, at least to an extent, what Minho is up to?
Minho remains quiet as Hyunjin returns with a saddle and plops it on Soonie, not yet moving to fasten it. “You know,” he says, turning back to Minho. He’s a bit taller, and from this angle, Minho has to crane his neck to look up at him, which embarrasses him. Hyunjin seems to relish in it a bit. “I was considering going to bed soon. But, I suppose I’ll have to wait up for you to return, right?”
“Of course,” Minho says quickly. “I was planning to take a long ride, maybe a couple of hours.”
Hyunjin’s eyes narrow. “The sun won’t rise for another few hours. It’s dangerous in the dark, so you’ll have to stick close by the castle.”
“There’s a place I like to visit not far from the palace walls,” Minho retorts quickly, sensing the game he and the stableboy are playing. If he’s determined to catch him in a lie, Minho will have to be cleverer than the stable idiot. “It won’t be dangerous at all.”
Hyunjin narrows his eyes, taking in this new lie and readjusting his strategy. “Still, you being the crown prince and it being dark, I’ll have to go with you. For protection.”
Minho stutters, unsure of how to deal with this new development. “Unnecessary,” he insists. “What could you do to protect me? I’ve trained with a master swordsman since I could wield one.”
“Master Park? As have I since being employed at the palace, some eight years now,” Hyunjin informs him. Minho’s eyes narrow. This could well be a lie, but, well, how would he know? It’s not in his habit to keep up with the training regimens of stableboys. “And, anyway, if you die on my watch, then I’m next, and my head will be on a stake outside the castle walls.”
“Well…” Minho begins, already faltering and they’ve barely begun. “…Then I’ll stick by the castle walls,” he lies lamely, knowing Hyunjin will never believe him.
Surprisingly, the stableboy’s face falls. “How disappointing. I thought you’d put up more of a fight.” He shakes his head. “You ran out of lies too quickly.”
Minho doesn’t take his eyes off Hyunjin’s face. He’d never been able to see it before, taking Hyunjin’s poor effort as a stableboy as an indicator of his intelligence. But no, Hyunjin is shrewd and can tell when things don’t add up. “What do you want in exchange for your silence?” Minho questions.
Hyunjin looks bored, a stark contrast to the excitement he’d had written all over his face just a moment ago. “You’re running away, I presume? The peasant clothes, the ugly knapsack jingling with coins. Tell me why you’re running, where you’re going.” He keeps a hand on Soonie’s saddle, still unfastened and preventing Minho from leaving.
“None of your business.”
Hyunjin looks him up and down once more, before concluding, “Surely some sort of quest. You’ve a knife strapped to your belt and proper boots. So, here’s what I want: let me come with you.”
Minho’s immediate reaction is disgust. Hyunjin has proven himself clever, but there is not a single chance that he wants him to tag along. “Absolutely not, let me go,” Minho says, in his most princely, commanding voice.
Hyunjin cocks an eyebrow and nods to a rope on the wall. “See that?” he asks. “It goes directly to the warden’s chambers. If someone were to, I don’t know, steal a horse, I could pull it and ring a bell to let the warden know to send guards down here immediately.”
Trying to sound braver than he felt, Minho puts his hand to his knife and says, “I’ll have to take care of you, then.”
Hyunjin smirks. In a flash, so fast Minho couldn’t see, Hyunjin produces his own dagger. “I’ve trained longer than you, since well before I came to the castle. So you’re welcome to try, but if I happen to kill a prince, I can escape easier than anyone else in the entire castle.” Minho knows Hyunjin is right, and lets his hand fall back to his side. Hyunjin also lowers his own knife and says, “I’ll saddle my horse.”
Ten minutes later, they’re galloping away, protected from the sentries under the cover of night. Minho half-expects Hyunjin to peel away and ditch him immediately, but surprisingly, he sticks to Minho’s right flank. He wonders if he’s trying to brute-force his way into being a squire, despite the fact that Minho is no knight.
They ride hard until the sun peeks over the horizon, neither speaking a word at all. They pass through villages Minho has never seen, cross rivers whose names he does not know, and enter forests he’s unfamiliar with.
They stop to let the horses rest for the first time under thick tree cover. Hyunjin gazes back the way they’ve come, as if he could still see the castle. “Daybreak,” he announces. “I suppose they’re just discovering us missing.”
“I suppose,” Minho agrees, still eyeing his companion with suspicion.
Hyunjin notes his look and shoots one of disdain back. “I assume our objective is to leave the valley. I took the liberty of steering us towards the Great River.”
Minho’s temper flares at Hyunjin’s assumption. “I’m not searching for my Other,” he snaps.
Surprisingly, Hyunjin barks a laugh. “Clearly not.” He pauses to consider Minho again. “You’re trying to prove your worth. I imagine you’re out to conquer land, raze River Scum villages to the ground, something along those lines, yes?”
“Some of that along the way, yes.”
Hyunjin’s eyes narrow again. “Well, you can guess my wish. When we accomplish your goal, I’ll have proved myself as a squire, and you will give me my knighthood.”
“Those are your terms?”
“They are,” Hyunjin confirms.
“Don’t you want to know the exact mission first?”
Hyunjin shrugs. “Whatever it is, I’ll help with it. But sure, tell me.”
“I’m going to return home with the Fated as my captive,” Minho says seriously.
He expects indignation or fear, but Hyunjin is nothing like he expects, and instead he laughs again. “That’s one way to command respect, I suppose.” He pauses, considers Minho. “Not everyone believes those old stories, you know. What if there is no Fated?”
“A few months ago, my father hosted General Song, who had just captured the river delta for the Valley,” Minho informs Hyunjin. “And he told him that he’d heard talk of a violet-eyed boy who was searching the world for his Other.”
This is the first time he’s managed to catch Hyunjin off-guard, and he relishes the way his eyes widen in surprise. “The Fated one? The Fated doesn’t know what he is?”
“It should seem not,” Minho says. “The River Scum don’t care for our old stories, of course, so they must not remember just what those violet eyes mark. We’ll capture him, bring him to my father, and my loyalty and honor shall never fall in question again.”
Hyunjin nods slowly, taking it in. “A most impossible quest,” he concludes. “Likely to end in failure. But also, likely to be fun. I’m in.” He pauses before adding, “I shall serve you unwaveringly.” Somehow it sounds sarcastic coming from Hyunjin.
“We’ll start at the delta,” Minho says, slightly encouraged by Hyunjin’s interest. “Question everyone about the purple-eyed boy and see if we can’t track him. I’ll blend in easily, with my eyes. You stay behind as backup.”
“And should you meet your Other?”
It’s improbable. The Riverlings are many, and Minho hopes it won’t take long. But, due to his eyes, people will always worry. When he answers, he answers with the same vitriol he’d held in his heart all these years. “Should I meet my Other, I’d be happy to plunge my dagger into their chest and watch the light leave the eyes which belong to the valley.”
Hyunjin nods in cool acceptance, obviously pleased with the answer. “Right,” he says easily. “Let’s ride, the southern border is not even a day’s journey from here.”