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Long ago in a faraway land, lived a duke and his three sons. His middle son, Neito, had beautiful blond hair and striking pale blue eyes. Many maidens in their valley swooned over him, and they hung off his every word when he spoke to them. His youngest child, Hiryuu, had jet-black hair and dark, almost black eyes. The young ladies would whisper about how mysterious he was, and how they'd like to learn more about him. Yes, his two youngest sons had no shortage of eligible bachelorettes.
His eldest, however…
Hitoshi was his firstborn and heir to his estate, yet not a single person wanted anything to do with him. His lavender eyes and purple hair were not spoken of as something special, but rather as a sign of ill fortune. Such a strange-looking boy, there had to be something wrong with him. The Duke did what he could for him, deciding that his youngest sons couldn't take a partner until Hitoshi had settled down with one. But as time wore on and no partner presented, he wondered if that was the correct choice…
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Hitoshi knew that his brothers talked behind his back. Neito didn't exactly try to hide it, and Hiryuu wasn't subtle about the way he looked at him. The two had lovers, after all. Beautiful girls whose parents were growing impatient. If they were anyone else's children, they could've been married by now.
But no, their father had insisted that Hitoshi be the first to wed. Decreed it for their entire village, that the one son that was unwanted had to be chosen first. He hated it; hated the pressure of needing to find a woman who would look at him for longer than a minute, with something other than disgust or apprehension, so that his brothers could go live their fairy tales. It wasn't like he was without redeeming qualities; he was intelligent, quick-witted, and his personal favorite, had a voice that could shame any nymph or siren. No one knew, though, or perhaps they simply didn't care.
Though due to his lack of desirability, he could move much more freely than his brothers and took to roaming the nearby forest to escape the stresses of daily life. Hitoshi loved his evening walks, easily able to sneak out after dinner and stay out until the household had fallen asleep. It was quiet and beautiful in the forest, filled only with the sounds of wind and birdsong.
At least, it had been only wind and birdsong. He had wandered further than he usually did, further than he'd ever gone before, and had stumbled upon something amazing. A harp joined the music of the forest, and the sounds of merriment reached his ears. There in a clearing, far from his village, were elves. They were beautiful; carefree and wild. They danced to the harp and the song of nature, and Hitoshi felt himself drawn to them.
Night after night he would watch from the treeline, mesmerized by their movements and freedom. Not one of them shied away from their group, laughing and mingling with one another as though judgment wasn't a concept they knew. Perhaps they didn't. What need did they have for judgment, after all? They were one with nature, and nature knew no bias. They were creatures of beauty and frivolity; judgment would have no place among them.
Enthralled by their presence, emboldened by his knowledge of the tune newly stuck upon the harp, or perhaps just desperate for a change, Hitoshi made a decision one late spring evening. From his place in the trees, hidden from sight, he willed himself to add to their music, his voice blending beautifully with the notes from the harp.
Only a few stopped their dancing at the sound of his voice, and only one approached him. Bright red filled his vision as the elf in front of him smiled, offering his hand. Hitoshi hesitated a moment, gathering his confidence before reaching for the outstretched hand. He was guided over to the harpist, who gladly moved a bit to make room for him on his makeshift stage. Eyes fell upon them, filled not with hatred, but with excitement. The harpist grinned up at him, positioning his hands to start a new song. Another piece that Hitoshi knew, and was more than happy to sing along to. As songs passed his happiness grew, and he felt more and more accepted by the group around him.
Many nights were spent in a similar fashion, singing with the harpist, a beautiful man with green hair and eyes by the name of Izuku, or dancing with one of the elves when an unfamiliar song was played. On occasion, the harpist would be pushed from his instrument by one of the female elves, who he learned was named Jiro, and the two would dance together. Hitoshi loved spending time with them all, though he treasured his time with Izuku the most. He found himself standing closer and closer to his musical partner and even started to bring him small gifts. He couldn't only bring things for his dear harpist, though, and soon he began bringing little trinkets for all of his elven friends. Small snacks from the local bakery, pretty ribbons to adorn the harp, and beautifully dyed silks that flowed with their movements when they danced.
They, in turn, began teaching him their language and their dances, their music and their fashions, and anything else he would ask about. They would slide intricately forged bracelets onto his wrists, carefully fasten delicate necklaces around his neck, and Izuku, while blushing up to his ears and down to his collar bones, had even given him a ring with a small emerald gleaming in its center. No one in his village commented on any of his adornments, likely because they didn't bother glancing his way long enough to notice. Not that it mattered to Hitoshi. His days were no longer spent wallowing in his loneliness, but instead spent wandering the markets or raiding the family library for new sheet music. For months he was consumed by affection and acceptance, and for months his cares felt far away.
So that was why, one chilly afternoon, he felt his world come crashing down around him. He was browsing the markets as usual, finally having a need for his monthly allowance he had been hoarding up to this point, when something soft and cold landed on his face. He brushed it off; perhaps a stray drop from a puddle, or maybe an incoming drizzle. Something else landed on his arm, chilling the fabric as soon as it made contact. A small, white flake glistened in the sunlight before vanishing completely, fully melting into his clothing. More flakes began to fall onto and around him, and a pit began to form in his stomach.
It wasn't truly winter yet, was it? Surely he hadn't spent that much time with his elven friends. Surely it wasn't possible for the snow to continue throughout the day, blocking his path come evening. He hurriedly paid the merchant for his newest set of trinkets and made his way home, stashing his bag containing his usual haul under his bed and heading to the library. He needed to not think about the snow outside for a while. His breath was stuttering and his heart was pounding the longer he dwelled on it. Best to find new music for tonight, rather than overthink about something as silly as winter setting in so quickly. Though his search was successful, his anxiety hadn't been eased.
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Dinner was somehow even more uncomfortable than usual that night. He couldn't sit still, twitching and tapping throughout the meal while his brothers ranted or complained, likely about their inability to claim their intended partners. Though his brothers paid him no mind, his father must've noticed that he was more uncomfortable than usual and excused him from the table early. He used the last of his composure to keep from running to his room to fetch his cloak and bag and hurried out of the house and towards the forest.
His anxieties had been correct, however, and instead of the warm welcome he usually felt when entering the woods, he was greeted with darkness and snow. Little white puffs still fell from the sky, and what covered the ground already rose to his ankles. There was no way for him to traverse the woods without getting caught in the dark, without getting turned around more times than he could count with the possibility of not ever making it to his friends. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the snow, feeling the cold starting to sting his exposed skin. With a heavy heart and a few tears shed, Hitoshi headed back to his room.
The days that followed did nothing to lighten his mood. The snow hadn't stopped; instead, it picked up. It rose to his shins when he dared step outside, and if that hadn't been enough to deter him, the wind had almost knocked him over when he attempted to walk more than a few paces outside the house. It was dark before dinner now, and almost no one left the Duke's estate as the winter storm raged on outside. Everything seemed to slow as the snow continued, the servants, his daily lessons, and even time itself seemed to drag on.
He wasn't the only one in the household that was beginning to feel the effects of winter's forced isolation. His father rarely left his study, engrossed in his paperwork. His teachers became more lax, outright canceling lessons on days when it was too much effort to get the fireplaces lit in the library. He was grateful for the time to spend with his sheet music and books and trinkets, taking every day off as a chance to reorganize which gift was to go to which elf when the world thawed, but no lessons meant his brothers had free time as well.
It started small. They stopped apologizing for running into him, whether it was accidentally or on purpose. Their glares became more open during meals and teas. They would speak loudly about their lovers, asking if Hitoshi had anyone special he'd like to tell them about, before snickering cruelly when he'd say no. As time dragged on, they changed from teasing conversations and slight bumps in the hallway to outright pushing him down and insulting him. He'd been born wrong, unlovable by all but their father and his late mother, impossible to look at, and not even worth his own family name. He'd ignore them in the moment, managing to put on a stoic face when he'd walk away. In the confines of his room, however, his tears would fall as their torment continued.
A few weeks passed in a similar fashion, with Hitoshi feeling like he was drowning in his brother's hatred. He avoided them at all costs, arriving late and leaving early for their two shared meals, taking what little work their tutors assigned them into his room, and hiding out in the cold, dark corners of the estate. It was the dead of winter, and storms raged day and night.
It was a particularly awful day when his father unintentionally made it all worse. Neito had drawn up a marriage contract for himself and his intended and presented it to their father during dinner. He was stopped before he could get past the first sentence, being reminded none too gently that as the second son, he could not wed until Hitoshi did. The contact was snatched from the table without a word from Neito, who stormed out of the dining room.
Hitoshi's stomach tightened when he left. No one ever left before him. It was how he got to his room safely, locking his door and hiding himself away. His father continued speaking, for once obvious to his eldest's anxieties. Dinner ended far too soon after the incident, the halls seeming tighter than usual as Hitoshi made his way to his room.
He heard the footsteps behind him before the words started, Neito was loud and angry, and though Hiryuu was quieter, his insults stung just as much. They followed him through the halls, their words getting worse as they drew near his room. He reached for his door, managing to pull it just slightly open before Neito slammed it closed, locking eyes with him as his first words spoken at a normal volume that night left his lips.
"I wish you were dead, Hitoshi."
Malice dripped from every word, and Hitoshi felt his heart drop to the floor. There was no regret in Neito's eyes, and Hiryuu didn't even bother opening his mouth to disagree. They stood in silence for a few moments before Hitoshi felt something within him snap. His eyes began to water as he turned and fled, running through the halls with no particular direction in mind. His vision blurred as his tears fell, and his legs seemed to guide him on their own. His hands shook as he pulled open the door to the estate, the winter cold greeting him as he made his way into the woods. His woods. His place of comfort and joy that he'd been kept from for so long.
Knee-deep snow slowed his steps as he traveled deeper within the trees, the storm around him covering his tracks as he went. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out or how far he'd gotten when he collapsed. The snow was soft against his back and seemed to cradle him as he sunk into it. His fingers and toes were already completely numb, his arms and legs not too far behind. Tears were frozen to his face, uncomfortable but not worth the effort of brushing off. It wasn't really worth the effort of keeping his eyes open, either. Not with the snow feeling so welcoming. His eyes started to flutter closed as he allowed himself to sink deeper into the snow, thinking about how Neito would get his wish tonight. The cold no longer bit as he felt his mind begin to slip away.
He heard footsteps before he could fully fade. Not just a few, but a whole group crunching through the snow. Someone shouted near him, and the footsteps rushed closer. Warm hands grabbed him, pulling him out of his snowy bed and into what felt like a warm, heavy blanket. No, not a blanket. A cloak. Warm and thick and soft, another set of hands fastened it around his neck before he was picked up, and pressed against someone's body as they began to move. They were talking frantically to one another, though he couldn't hear about what. He could only focus on the warmth of the arms that held him, of the chest he was pressed against.
His limbs ached as the warmth returned to them, the person carrying him holding him tighter when he started to fidget in their hold. He was grateful for them, for their heat, for their strength, and for the way they smelled like summer. He couldn't place what was doing it, exactly, but something was calling him back to that clearing in the moonlight, bringing him back to the nights spent singing and dancing with his otherworldly friends. His eyes protested as he forced them open, but he had to know why he was suddenly being pulled into his happiest memories.
Messy green hair and freckles greeted him as his eyes focused. His harpist was the one carrying him through the snow, a determined look on his face as they trudged on. Emotional warmth joined Izuku's body heat as he stared. The voices and footsteps around them, then, had to belong to the other elves. His friends had come to look for him, and in doing so, had pulled him away from death's door. New tears began to cloud his eyes, born not from pain and neglect, but from love. This was what it was to be loved. He felt himself tremble as the emotions washed over him, Izuku's eyes locking with his when the harpist looked down at him.
No words were exchanged between the two. Izuku only smiled, squeezing him harder as they arrived at the place the elves called their home. More of his friends came into his view as they bustled around them, lighting grand fireplaces and producing luxurious blankets from hidden closets. Izuku held him all the while, and Hitoshi allowed himself to fall asleep in his arms, for the first time in a long time feeling safe and content.
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Neito's wedding was to take place in the summer, with Hiryuu's following in the autumn. The Duke had searched for his eldest son the night he'd vanished, and again when the winter had ended, but he was nowhere to be found. Neito and Hiryu had agreed to not speak of the night when Hitoshi had disappeared in the snowstorm, and most outside the Duke's household didn't even notice his absence. The village moved on quickly, content to accept that Hitoshi was dead and gone.
They were only half right.
The clearing deep in the woods continued to be used by the elves for their nightly dances and revelry. The birdsong and wind blended with the harp and harmonies as the group twirled into daybreak. Save for one evening in early spring, when Jiro provided the music and Hitoshi and Izuku were the only two dancing in the middle of the clearing, their friends watching on and cheering when they finished. Their matching rings shone in the moonlight every night after when they performed, emeralds and amethysts twinkling like tiny stars on their fingers.
With his friends dancing around him, and his love playing beside him, Hitoshi was more than happy to sing until dawn.