#158 It Started Out With A Kidnapping

[seokmonsters]

Title: It Started Out With A Kidnapping
Pairing: Minseok/Chanyeol
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 14.4k
Warnings: mild violence
Summary: The Prince has been kidnapped. Minseok wouldn't care, except now everyone thinks he did it.

Author's Notes: This probably isn't what you had in mind at all, but I enjoyed creating this world and I hope you enjoy it too. ^_^ Thank you to my beta for putting up with me and smoothing out the rough edges. You're the real champ.






The Miser’s Tavern isn’t known for its food. Or its drinks. Or even the clientele. Well, perhaps it is known for how rowdy the clientele can be. A traveler would be hard pressed to spend an evening in the building without some sort of altercation spilling into the streets.

As voices rise and give way to shouting that leads directly to a small man climbing onto a table to jump on the man he’s taken issue with, Minseok wonders why it is that he’d stopped off here of all places. He could have kept traveling despite the sun having set; it’s not as if he isn’t equipped to handle himself in case he were to be assaulted. The last group of bandits who attempted to rob him on the road now live a joyous life as pond toads.

The scuffle quickly gets pushed out the door by the burly owner who Minseok is mostly positive is male. But he could be wrong. There could be giant blood involved. Anyone with giant blood is hairier than most. The eager spectators - the ones now openly placing bets - rush after to keep watch, and Minseok is left in peace.

His mead is lukewarm, and he spies the remnants of another drink still stuck to the bottom of his mug. He politely sets it aside to dig into his meal. A bug skitters over the table, straight onto his plate to make itself at home in his mashed potatoes, and Minseok loses his appetite. The plate joins his mug, and he leans back, his spine cracking. It brings much needed relief.

He’s been traveling lately, keeping an eye on the magical bindings in the different villages he passes through. Some of the shields that keep out predatory animals and people with malicious intent are weakening across the country, and his tinkering puts them back in order without anyone ever knowing there was an issue. Except for that one seaside village that had been overrun by a flesh-eating algae. That had been a tricky job to lure it all out first, but most of the citizens made it through with only a few toes or fingers lost.

Minseok takes pride in being a mage. It’s not a profession; that implies that he does it for the gold. No, Minseok does it for the joy of his craft and because he’s really not a people person. He’d been fascinated by magic when he was a small child, amazed at the old mage who lived on the outskirts of his village. He was retired, his body worn down from magic use, but he’d been happy to teach a young Minseok whose eyes lit up, and curiosity had him listening to every word with an eagerness that belied his age.

There was never any question that Minseok would enroll at the Tower - the school for those wishing to learn to harness magic - and that he would graduate the youngest in his generation.

That was many, many years ago. Minseok is older now, practiced and careful and a master in his craft. He remembers his past with fondness, remembers finding that old mage to tell him he’d graduated. His eyes had been clouded over, his every breath rattling in his lungs with a sickness he didn’t want cured. Minseok got to thank him before he passed, and now he treasures his memories close to his heart.

Minseok reclines in the wooden chair, head tipped back to stare at the wooden beams that run along the ceiling. He ponders taking a room, sleeping in a bed for the first time in days, although the beds around here might not be as comfortable as the ground. He’s weighing the pros and cons of sticking around someplace this loud until he’s interrupted by a shadow cutting through his vision.

A trio of men stand in a semi-circle around Minseok; they’ve a rough look about them - unshaven, clothes dirty, and the stench of not washing wafting toward Minseok who wrinkles his nose.

“Can I help you?” he inquires. This lot doesn’t look like much, but he knows better than to judge by appearances only. He can already see how the middle one is fingering the hilt of the knife strapped to his thigh and the one to his far right is fidgeting nervously.

“Yeah, you can come with us quietly. I’d hate to have to slide my blade in your belly.”

Minseok cocks an eyebrow in interest, sitting up straighter in his chair. He slowly places his palms on the table before him in a gesture of goodwill. “May I inquire as to what business you have with a wandering traveler such as myself? I don’t carry much in the way of gold if that’s what you’re after.”

Minseok takes stock of the tavern; most of the crowd is still outside, probably distracted with the fight that he would bet one of these three had a hand in starting. There are a few people still inside, and they’re all watching Minseok carefully. They could be accomplices in case these three aren’t enough to subdue him or merely curious.

Either way, he’s outnumbered and tired, and he’s in no mood for a fight. Diffusing the situation would be ideal.

“Either you’re really dumb or really smart,” the man says. Minseok assumes he’s the leader. “We’re taking you in for the bounty.”

Minseok blinks at that. “Bounty? Are you sure you have the right person?”

The leader jerks his head and the man in the middle pulls a rolled up parchment from his pants, handing it over. The leader unrolls it, staring down at it, then at Minseok, then back down. “You Minseok?”

“If I was, wouldn’t it be foolish of me to admit it?”

The leader turns the scroll for Minseok to see for himself. And indeed, there’s a rough drawing of him along with his name scrawled underneath.

WANTED for KIDNAPPING: Prince Chanyeol

That’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard, and Minseok barks out a laugh. “The Prince?” he asks incredulously. Minseok clutches his belly over his robes, but the action has all three men jumping to attention.

The leader lunges and Minseok rolls his eyes, grabbing the man by the wrist before he can even get to his weapon, twisting until it cracks. He’d really been hoping to avoid a fight, but he can see that’s not going to happen. The man to the right tries to get to Minseok over the table and Minseok simply flicks his hand, using the latent magic that buzzes through his body to send the table across the room, pinning the man to the wall.

That leaves the one in the middle who is staring down at his leader on the floor who’s now grasping at his useless hand. “Get him,” the leader growls. “Dead or alive.”

The man clearly hesitates, afraid of Minseok, and he should be. Minseok hasn’t even begun to pull on the magic he can command. Minseok’s far less inclined to hold back on his magic before killing someone when he’s in a foul mood. Being hungry and tired both constitute foul.

He dispatches of the third would-be assassin with ease, flicking his fingers and allowing the magic to travel from his chest and down through his arms, coming out the tips of his fingers as sticky ropes. The man is covered in it from head to toe, unable to move and he loses his balance, teetering dangerously until he finally falls.

Minseok plucks the parchment from the mess on the floor, carefully stepping over the injured leader. The bounty hunter, however, isn’t a smart one, and he grasps for Minseok’s robe. Minseok clucks his tongue, turning long enough to send the man whizzing over the floor until his back slams against a stone hearth. He’ll live - probably.

Minseok makes his way out of the tavern, his eyes on the parchment but every other sense dedicated to ensuring no one else is going to attempt an attack. Kidnapping the Prince. Minseok scoffs. He would never risk his head for something as stupid as kidnapping a prince. And if he were going to do something foolish like kidnapping a prince, he would do it without a trace. It’s obvious that the person or people behind this were sloppy. Perhaps purposefully so if Minseok has been implicated.

It’s such a nuisance.

Now he’s going to have to find this Prince Chanyeol and return him to his home, or he’ll have to endure more petty bounty hunters coming for the reward.

It’s so beneath him, the rescuing of princes. Minseok slowly makes his way out of the town, well aware that there are several people hidden in the shadows now following. He’s going to have to put in some effort to get them off his trail, and he’s still so tired. All he’d wanted was a meal and a place to sleep; all he’s gotten is a tear in the hem of his robe and a new problem to solve.




It’s a beautiful morning. The sun sifts through the canopy, leaving droplets of light across the ground that resemble the tinkling laughter of faeries. It’s been a long time since any of the fae inhabited this particular forest, but their mark is still left on the trees and plants alike. Minseok sees their runes carved into wood, sees the splash of residual faery dust scattered over flower petals even from his perch on a high branch.

Common folk wouldn’t notice it, but Minseok’s in tune with the magics that run through this world. His eyes brush over the remnants of what had been a populated forest, lamenting the loss that came with human expansion into their territory. He’d chosen this spot to sleep for the night, knowing the people following him would lose him the moment he stepped through the line of trees. There’s still enough lingering magic here to mask his presence.

Minseok knows what he has to do, but he’s struggling with moving. It’s not that he’s particularly comfortable on the branch, but he’d had such a fitful night of half-sleeping that he’s nearly tempted to conjure himself a bed and let another day pass before leaving the safety of the forest. But he knows he needs to get this taken care of sooner rather than later. Putting it off could only lead to greater consequences, especially if something happens to the Prince before Minseok can get to him.

What Minseok needs to do is get his hands on something of the Prince’s so he can locate him. And then it’s a matter of following the trail to foil the real captor, rescue the Prince, and take him home, clearing his name. Easy peasy.

Minseok still lingers for a while longer, taking his time as he cuts through the protected swath of trees and toward the castle. He would attempt to summon something of the Prince’s to him, but the castle has a shield around it, keeping magic from getting in or out. If it were anyone else, he could just pop to where he wanted, but no. It had to be a prince.

The severity of the crime, along with his face being plastered everywhere, requires that Minseok fashion himself a new face after coming across the first wanted posters just after he made it to the nearest public road. He huffs, irritated that his name is being sullied with such a petty crime. Anyone who has spent the better part of their life learning how to manipulate the magics of the twelve known planes and has dedicated his body as a conduit for the gods, isn’t going to bother with something as mundane as common folk politics.

Minseok conceals his identity with the face of someone too plain to draw attention, siphoning the color from his beautiful blue robe until it appears as drab gray to fit in with the crowds, pulling the hood over his head after. He frowns down at himself, a wave of his hand placing an undetectable spell on him so if he is seen, he'll be forgotten the moment he’s out of sight.

Crowds have never been something Minseok enjoys, and he squeezes through the early afternoon market-goers with a low murmur of displeasure, trying to keep to the sides to avoid being jostled around. He keeps his eyes to the ground, taking detours between stalls when guards are in sight. There are more out than usual, and he curses his misfortune. A prince. Minseok heaves out a sigh and wanders nearer to the castle, not wanting to take a direct path in case something or someone is able to see through his spells and follow him. It’s not likely, but he doesn’t want to take any chances.

The castle is large, standing tall and proud and a symbol to the arrogance that only royalty seems to possess. Minseok scoffs at the unnecessarily gaudy decorations, standing just outside the barrier that protects the grounds. His hand brushes carefully over it, testing the strength and malleability so he knows what he’s working with. It’s strong, just not strong enough to keep him out. It will take concentration and time, but he can punch a hole in it just large enough for himself without being detected.

Minseok wanders further around the edge of the barrier, fingers tickling against the magic to keep his bearings. The marketplace disappears behind him, along with the errant citizen in the fields around it, until Minseok is alone. He stares up at the buttresses with disdain, lip curling. It’s all so extravagant and for no reason at all. Everyone knows they rule the land. No need to flaunt it about.

Minseok finds a spot in the barrier that’s a little weaker than the rest, peering around to ensure he’s alone before deciding to stay. It takes a lot of concentration, his palms settled on the barrier as he uses his own magic to open a small hole that he can expand. Sweat beads along his forehead, his chest ballooning with all the magic pooling inside him before it rushes into his arms. Minseok’s always loved the feeling that comes with knowing he’s one of the chosen few in the world who can harness the power of the gods. His fingertips tingle, and though the magic isn’t visible to anyone else, Minseok can see the streaks of light - blue and yellow and orange - that wedge themselves into the barrier.

It’s a stubborn spell around the castle, but Minseok manages to create a hole in a few minutes. He hooks his fingers in the opening, pulling it apart enough to slip himself through. As soon as he’s inside, it seals itself, a zip of white light blinking from the seam before dying and leaving the barrier as whole as Minseok found it. Now all he has to do is figure out which room is the Prince’s so he can pop in and back out without being detected.

There are limitations to magic; this is something that Minseok knows well. He likes to push against those limits to see how hard they’ll snap back. This time the risk of casting his spirit into the mind of a servant, or doing anything to reveal himself, isn’t worth it. The brief idea of teleporting himself into the castle and hoping for the best is quickly discarded. Without knowing the layout, he’s liable to end up embedded in a wall, or halfway inside some unnecessarily large painting of one royal or another.

Instead of tempting fate, Minseok hides himself in the bushes, sitting cross-legged and out of sight. He opens the tie on his robes, reaching inside to one of the numerous pockets that line the fabric. A mage would be nothing without his robe - the pockets are enchanted to hold any number of things, creating a dimension of their own to store whatever a mage needs to carry with him. Minseok reaches into the pocket with his books and calls the right one to his hand.

Somewhere in the large tome now open on his lap is a detailed floor plan, magically kept up-to-date. Minseok just needs to find it. He pages through maps of villages, of the mines, of the migrating patterns of dragons, and the paths that the faeries take to pay tribute to nature before he finds the castle plans. He flips the book the right way to orient himself, then teleports himself exactly where he needs to be.

The large bedroom is a mess. Minseok takes stock of it all, sighing when he realizes that the mess isn’t because of whoever kidnapped the Prince. This is just how the Prince lives. Minseok stares at the large canopy bed with rumpled crimson velvet blankets pushed to the end, the gauzy gold curtains folded over the top and out of the way. Everything is decadent, and Minseok doesn’t understand people who need to surround themselves in these things when there are far better ways to live.

It shouldn’t be a problem finding something of the Prince’s that he can borrow. No one would miss it because no one could find anything in the mess. There’s magic still lingering in the air. Every mage’s magic leaves a different signature, each one as unique as a fingerprint, and Minseok studies the way it dances in the air, his curiosity growing because he doesn’t recognize it. There aren’t many mages in the world, and there are even fewer still that Minseok doesn’t know. It begs the question - why would some mage he’s never met frame him for kidnapping the Prince?

“Halt!”

Minseok blinks out of his haze and turns his stare toward the armored guard standing in the open doorway, a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Do I look like I’m moving?” Minseok responds dispassionately.

The guard looks confused before standing tall, still poised to pull his weapon. “You’re the one responsible for Prince Chanyeol’s disappearance,” the guard accuses.

Minseok sighs, only just refraining from rolling his eyes to express his irritance. “If I kidnapped your prince, why would I come back?”

The guard furrows his eyebrows, mouth twisted; he appears as if he’s trying to decipher a particularly difficult riddle. “Perhaps there is something of his that you need. Raise your hands so I can see them, mage!” he yells, pulling his sword.

“Oh for -” Minseok raises his hands, but also lets loose enough magic to have the guard’s arms pinned to his sides, sword clattering to the floor. “Weren’t you ever taught not to play with sharp objects?” Minseok tsks. “Why are you even here? What’s the point of guarding the Prince’s room when he’s already been taken?” Minseok pauses, a hand propped on his hip. “Unless he just wandered off and you needed someone to pin it on and decided a mage should take the fall.”

Minseok’s musing aloud, forgetting about the guard completely as his eyes dart around the room again. “Ah ha!” He has to step over two piles of clothing to get to the shelves mounted to the wall. Atop the lavishly padded wood lays a line of crowns. One of them is missing - presumably still on the prince’s head - but any of them will do.

Minseok plucks one off the shelf and inspects it, running fingers over the gilded edges as the gemstones scatter colors over the floor from the sunlight spilling through the window. How is anyone supposed to keep their eyes open staring at such a thing? Is the goal to blind everyone who dares set eyes upon a royal?

There’s a muffled thump behind Minseok and when he turns, he sees that the incapacitated guard has fallen to the floor. “Oh, you’re still here.” Minseok strides over to him, crouching by the man’s head. He pats him fondly on the shoulder. “It’s alright,” he reassures the guard. “You won’t remember this.”




Minseok doesn’t really have a place that he calls home. Home is where he’s needed. Home is where he can close his eyes for the night. Home is where the magic guides him.

But he does have a small house hidden in the trees near the village where he grew up. Call him sentimental, but it feels wrong relocating permanently when this is the place he was born. So he took up shelter in an abandoned cottage that had been taken over by the forest around it. Minseok let most of the vines and growing plants stay, even going out of his way to ensure he left the proper holes in the roof so they can get the sunlight they need. He’s not worried about his belongings; those are kept safe in the cellar.

Minseok is in the cellar now, tapping his foot as his latest attempt at putting a locator spell on the crown fails. There’s a plume of violet smoke that fills the air and Minseok coughs as it quickly floods through the room. He bursts out of the cellar, letting the vile smoke out as he lays spread eagle on the floor, pulling in deep gulps of fresh air. The crown is still in his hand, and he knocks it purposely on the brick fireplace. The crown doesn’t give, but some of the brick crumbles and Minseok huffs. He’s properly stumped.

Someone has to be blocking him: that’s the only explanation. Locator spells are simple magic. Not being able to get one to stick to the crown means that whoever took the Prince doesn’t want him to be found.

“By all the gods and powers in the known dimensions, I cast every curse on the person responsible for this,” Minseok hisses. “Xiumin help me,” he invokes, calling on the god whose power he pulls from, in his frustration.

The smoke begins to clear and Minseok peers up through one of the holes in the roof. The tree that curls upward through the living room spans wide enough to block most of the sunlight with its leaves, but the small slants of light that spill through dance along the walls and floor. The nature around him serves to calm him and Minseok’s grip on the crown lessens, the anger in his chest seeping from him until he’s far less likely to summon a thunderstorm to mirror his mood.

“This is a bit tricky, isn’t it?” comes a sudden voice.

Minseok jolts in surprise, eyes flying open only to see himself standing above him. The man crouches over Minseok, leaning over to take the crown, and Minseok allows it. He lays still on the floor, intrigued.

“Then again, it would have to be tricky if it gets you so riled up.”

“Xiumin,” Minseok breathes out.

“I have to say, I love what you’ve done - or not done - with the place.” Xiumin slips the crown onto his head, a circle of gold wreathing a head of mauve hair. Of all the colors Minseok has worn, mauve was never one he’d thought of, but it looks quite nice. It’s only mildly disconcerting that he knows because his god has chosen to show himself in the form of Minseok himself.

Xiumin makes himself at home, sitting on the roots of the tree that have grown through the floor. The flora seems to move around him, molding to form a chair beneath him cushioned by leaves and grass, flowers twirling around the edges to keep it all sewn together. Xiumin runs his fingers over the petals of a purple flower, thanking it before turning his attention back to Minseok who is still on the floor.

“Don’t stand up or anything. You’re fine where you are.”

Minseok sits up, so he doesn’t hurt his neck trying to look at his god. “Why are you here?” he inquires. Gods aren’t known for actually helping when asked.

Xiumin clucks his tongue, nose scrunching for a moment. “You called for me. Why else?”

“I’ve called for you many times. This is only the second time you’ve answered.” The first was when Minseok invoked Xiumin’s power for the first time while in school. They say the god chooses the mage and Xiumin had chosen Minseok earlier than most are chosen. He’d appeared to him then in the guise of a frost elemental, burning his brand on the insides of Minseok’s wrists. It had felt more cold than hot and the marks are cool now, pulsing with the magic of having the god so close.

“Let’s say I have a . . . personal investment in this particular case,” Xiumin responds cheekily, grinning as he taps a nail on the crown.

“Then why don’t you leave me out of it, and do it yourself?” Minseok suggests. There’s dirt on his robe, and he brushes it off, frowning when it doesn’t come clean.

Xiumin clucks his tongue. “Your enemy serves another, so I can not intervene.”

Typical. Minseok watches as Xiumin takes the crown from his head, twirling it between his palms. There’s an ease to his movements that betrays Xiumin’s identity, and Minseok studies it. The fluidity in the way the crown balances so easily, spinning of its own accord draws Minseok in.

“I can, however,” Xiumin begins, the crown going faster, shining like a beacon, “help you. A little.”

The crown stays in the air even when Xiumin’s hands fall away, appearing as a ball of white light that begins to move toward Minseok. When it gets to him, the spinning slows, the light fading until all that’s left is the same crown that it was before. Minseok plucks it from the air, nearly hissing at the magic imbued in the gold. It’s cold to the touch, not even warming under Minseok’s fingertips.

“It will guide you to the lost Prince,” Xiumin proclaims, clapping his hands once. He seems pleased with himself, as if he’s done some great service. Minseok supposes he should be thankful that Xiumin chose to help at all, although most gods who meddle directly in the affairs of man only screw things up more.

“Thank you,” Minseok says, but when he looks up, he’s alone in the room. Xiumin is gone, his throne of vines the only evidence left that he was even there at all. Minseok sits in it with a sigh, pushing the crown down on his own head. He’ll use the rest of the day to gather what he needs in preparation to leave in the morning.




The thing about locator spells, even the ones placed on an object by a god, is that they’re direct. They don’t care for things like roads or cliffs or expanses of water that are impossible to cross. Minseok is at the whim of the crown, cloaked in a concealment spell that extends to the edges of the enchanted carpet he’s riding through the air. The crown sometimes likes to float out of the range of the spell, and Minseok’s had to speed the carpet enough to keep up. On one occasion, a small child standing on the path below had seen the crown and shouted, pointing and jumping. Minseok had quickly sped forward by the time her companions looked up to see.

Now, all Minseok can see are the tree tops. He’s no stranger to this particular forest even if it’s not visited by many humans. It’s where the fae folk live, their domicile stretching and weaving through and under the trees. It’s curious that the kidnapper would be so far to the east. These lands are unsettled by humans, but that leaves Minseok wondering if the kidnapper is even human. That opens a new window of possibilities, and Minseok finds himself frustrated again. He can’t readily face some unknown entity without verifying what it is first.

This entire quest is a hindrance. He’d much rather be out wandering through the trails, forging his own path and cleaning up the messes that already abound. When he finds the Prince’s kidnapper, he’s going to wring its neck. Assuming it has a neck.

It’s nearing nightfall when Minseok dares to finally pull out something to eat; the darkness should conceal the crown if there’s anyone around who might spot it. He has rations for a week stored in one of the many pockets in his robe, all kept fresh in their bottles so nothing spoils. Minseok is fishing for the right one, bottles all clinking together, when something sharp slices over his fingertip. He curses, nearly losing control of the carpet and tipping the entire thing over. A droplet of blood slides down Minseok’s finger, and he scowls, speeding the carpet to snatch the crown out of the air before beginning his descent. There’s a small clearing in the trees and Minseok aims for it, setting down in the grass.

The moment he has the crown wedged under his leg to keep it from floating off, Minseok shoves his hand back into the pocket. He feels around, knocking over several bottles, but not finding anything broken. He reaches further, his arm sinking up to his shoulder until he comes across something that’s not a bottle. Minseok gets his fingers around it, pulling the culprit from his robes.

Wiggling in his grasp, snarling and cursing, is an imp. Imps are tiny humanoid creatures with pointed ears, coiling tails and teeth like razors. They survive by absorbing magic; just being around a mage is enough to sustain an imp. Normally, Minseok doesn’t have a problem with imps but this one, however, bit him. It still stings.

“Put me down you bully!” the imp demands, still kicking his little legs while his arms are folded across his chest. His red eyes narrow at Minseok and his ears twitch.

Minseok curls his lip at the creature. “Why should I? You bit me.”

“You woke me from my nap!” the imp retorts. “I was startled!”

“Well go nap somewhere else,” Minseok demands, holding the imp over the side of the carpet. As soon as he opens his hand, the imp wraps his arms around Minseok’s fingers, refusing to let go. “I said off! I’m not on the menu anymore.”

“I’ll be good,” the imp promises. His little tail curls around another of Minseok’s fingers and he looks so distressed that Minseok almost feels bad for him.

Minseok closes his eyes, sighing in defeat. “No more teeth,” he says, pulling his hand back.

The imp nods eagerly, blinking up at Minseok with a smile. “Thank you!” he squeaks, tapping his small fingers on Minseok’s thumb. “I’m Baekhyun.”

“I don’t care.” Minseok shoves Baekhyun back in the pocket, appetite lost. He’ll eat later when he’s done flying.




It’s well after dark when the crown begins vibrating gently, the magic around it glowing brighter to indicate that its target is near. Minseok doesn’t see anywhere in the area where a Prince could be stashed, but these valleys are known for their caves and tunnels that lead to the mountains in the distance. Minseok sets the carpet down in a field. The grass is tall, flowers blooming and scattered through the blades. They sway in the breeze and if Minseok wasn’t so tired and hungry, he’d appreciate their beauty.

This time, when he feels around in his pocket for a bottle, it’s pushed into his hand by the imp. He pops the cork on the small purple bottle, a puff of yellow smoke escaping before it gathers and coalesces into a nice, juicy roast chicken. It’s still as good as it was when it was cooked, pulled from the oven and allowed to cool just enough to eat. Minseok pulls out another bottle - blue this time - and washes his meal down with honey lemonade.

His eyes grow heavy, tired from keeping a continuous spell going all day and night. He barely has the energy to cast another spell, weaving a concealment shield around himself and adding an alarm as well that will sound if anyone nears. It drains the last of his energy and Minseok slumps on his carpet, asleep before he can let out another breath, the crown tucked safely in a pocket.

Minseok sleeps through the morning.

Minseok sleeps through the afternoon.

Minseok wakes when the sun begins setting with Baekhyun tugging on his ear, screeching about an entire day having gone by, and he curses at himself for losing so much precious time. Perhaps it’s just as well, Minseok surmises, as he gazes around the field, the crown wobbling to be freed from its confines as Baekhyun, satisfied, crawls back into a pocket. With the shadows flooding through the valley, Minseok won’t have to expend his magic to hide himself; the night will do it for him. He fashions a tether to keep the crown near, a magical thread attached to Minseok’s finger that will stretch only as far as he wants it to.

The carpet has been rolled up and pushed into a pocket and Minseok waits for the last rays of sunlight to darken before releasing the crown. It speeds toward its owner, Minseok following as silently as he can manage through the tall grass. It can’t be too far. Minseok keeps it just within his sight, every now and then tugging on the nearly invisible thread.

The field is left behind, the crown leading Minseok into a patch of trees, weaving him around the trunks and toward something on the other side. And soon, even the trees are fading into the background as Minseok stumbles over a more rocky terrain. He doesn’t much like being exposed and he thinks about pausing to cast a spell around himself to hide, but the crown knocks against something.

It’s a soft sound, like it’s fallen on carpet and Minseok slinks forward to investigate. When he gets there, the crown is trying valiantly to push its way through an invisible barrier. The inside is shielded; Minseok can’t discern what it’s hiding, but it must be the prince. There’s nothing else out here.

It just seems to be one thing after another that stands in his way. All he wants is to get his hands on whoever framed him for this ridiculous mess and make them suffer as he’s suffered.

Minseok grits his teeth and rubs at his eyes, snatching the crown out of the air before it draws any unwanted attention. As much as Minseok would like to blast his way through the barrier, it would be unwise. If he’s been balked so often thus far, he may not be prepared for what’s waiting for him. The smart thing to do is back off and do a little recon. It’s with a weary heart that Minseok heads back to the area he’d camped in earlier. It’s far enough away to be undetected, and he can hunker down, unseen in the tall grass.

It pains Minseok to admit that he needs help. His pride may not like it, but it doesn’t stop him. Minseok closes his eyes, relaxing enough to extend his consciousness, searching through a sea of minds to find the right one. As soon as he makes contact, he snaps out of it, shaking his head until he feels like one piece again.

“It’s been a long time.” Jongin’s face is always a familiar, welcoming one and Minseok smiles at his old friend despite the frustrating circumstances. Jongin steps gingerly around Minseok’s hunched form, his bare feet silent in the grass. He sits across from Minseok, head tilted. “You are troubled.”

“I wish this was a social call,” Minseok begins. “But I require your help.”

Jongin scrunches his nose for a moment just before breaking out into a smile. “Such a serious tone,” Jongin chuckles. “You know you can ask anything of me and I will not refuse.”

Minseok does know. It’s why he summoned his friend. And it’s why Jongin’s the only one he even thought about summoning. “I have a pesky problem,” Minseok begins, earning a larger grin from Jongin, “and something keeps blocking me. I think I’ve finally found what I need, but it’s hidden behind a shield and a concealment spell that I can’t break without revealing myself.”

“And you’d like me to pop in and see what’s inside?” Jongin guesses.

“Please,” Minseok replies.

“Point me in the right direction,” Jongin says, standing and brushing the dirt from his pants.

Minseok tells Jongin where to look, then watches as his friend fades into the shadows, blending with them to travel. Minseok isn’t worried; Jongin knows what he’s doing. Jongin is a Plane Walker; he can travel through dimensions unhindered and without detection.

They met years ago when Minseok was still getting used to being a proper mage. Jongin had called to Minseok for help through his dreams, probably finding the strongest entity in the nearby area and latching on. Jongin had been trapped, having gone too near a collapsing dimension and was stretched over several dimensions in an effort to keep from getting pulled inside. Minseok had bound Jongin’s soul to that of something far too powerful to suffer the same fate.

There aren’t many of the ancient dragons left, but Minseok happened to have made acquaintance with one only the winter before and the dragon, Yifan, had agreed to allow Jongin’s soul to be tethered to his. Their bond had allowed Jongin to escape, and Jongin had sworn a blood oath to Minseok to help him whenever he called. Minseok has only ever called on Jongin for conversation in the past. The gifts of a plane walker are not to be squandered and Minseok wishes there was another way, but Jongin will solve this quickly. Time is of the essence, and Minseok is antsy, hoping that he hasn’t sent Jongin into danger even when there’s no possibility of him being discovered.

It only takes minutes for Jongin to return, appearing out of the shadows as quickly as he’d vanished. He folds his legs as he takes up a spot across from Minseok again. “Beyond the shield is nothing more than a shelter in danger of falling. It’s old, having probably been a home once. I expect your quarry is the one inside. He seemed rather put out about his surroundings, and he’s wearing an insignia on his clothing. My guess is royalty.”

Minseok blinks, forehead wrinkling in confusion. “There was no one else?”

Jongin shakes his head. “None. There was only the man.”

“Thank you, Jongin.”

“Don’t wait so long to call on me next time,” Jongin scolds, smiling and reaching over to ruffle Minseok’s hair before he leaves.

Minseok pats down his hair with a scowl. Sometimes he forgets that Jongin is decades older than him even if Jongin will always appear young. He’s also wary of the Prince being alone. It could still be a trap, but Minseok has no choice. He’s not about to live the rest of his days hiding from a bounty on his head for something he didn’t do.

It’s with renewed determination that Minseok heads back to the shield, the crown in his grasp trying to free itself so it can rush forward. Minseok allows it to slip loose, but keeps it close with the thread. He retraces his steps that he’d taken before until the crown is pushing at the barrier.

The barrier isn’t all that dissimilar to the one that surrounds the castle. Minseok pierces through it easily, and the entire thing comes down, revealing the shoddy shelter. From this angle, Minseok can’t see inside it, but the crown zooms forward, whizzing through the air until it veers around the side. Minseok has to give chase, nearly tripping over wooden beams that have already fallen to the ground. The entrance is free from debris and Minseok steps inside, anticipating an attack.

Instead, he gets a glowering Prince tied to a chair, the enchanted crown now perched atop his unruly auburn hair and his eyes narrowed in Minseok’s direction. Minseok edges forward, convinced that something is going to strike at any moment, but nothing does. He stands before the Prince, eyes scanning over the ceiling and to the sides.

“Are you here to free me?” the Prince demands, rocking his chair side-to-side dangerously. Minseok almost wants to watch and see if he tips himself over.

Minseok sighs. “I am.”

It’s simple to release the Prince from his bindings. All Minseok has to do is snap his fingers and the ropes break, leaving the Prince free to stand up as he pleases. Minseok is still peering around, trying to figure out why this is so easy. He’s been balked at every turn. There should be something more than this.

“Where’s the rest of the rescue party?” the Prince inquires, his voice bearing all the weight of his title. “I assume you’ve brought a horse for me and perhaps a change of clothing.”

Minseok draws his attention from the room and fixes the Prince with an unimpressed stare. He doesn’t like the fact that he has to look up at him. “I’m all there is,” Minseok tells him. “I apologize that I didn’t bring an entourage. They would have drawn too much attention.”

The Prince glares at Minseok and Minseok doesn’t feel an ounce of sympathy despite the dirt clinging to the man’s skin and clothing. He’s been here, probably tied up for days if the welts around his wrists are any indication.

“Do you know who took you?” Minseok asks.

He gets a shrug in return. “I could tell you his face if I see him again, but I do not know his name.”

It’s peculiar that the kidnapper would ensure the guard saw Minseok’s face, yet the Prince was shown a different one. It could be sloppy work. Or it could all be part of some larger scheme. It doesn’t sit well with Minseok. His original plan had him magicking both himself and Chanyeol to the entrance to the castle, as close as the barrier would allow. But he can’t simply take the Prince home if he hasn’t caught the culprit.

Minseok turns and walks out of the shelter; he’ll find nothing more here and he’s left with a sour taste in his mouth. It’s a half-victory at best. He has the Prince in his possession at least.

When Minseok realizes that the Prince isn’t following him, he pops his head back in. “Are you coming? Or shall I tie you back up so you can wait for your next hero?”

The Prince’s glare gets more heated. “How do I know I can trust you? You could be the same creature that took me.”

“If I was your kidnapper, what reason would I have for freeing you?”

“How am I supposed to know the mind of a madman?”

Minseok bristles at the insult. “I am a mage. I do not care for games. My time is precious, and you’re wasting it. So either follow me, or sit here for your captor to return. I’ve no patience for princes.”

Minseok storms off, grumbling under his breath about royalty and their entitlement, pausing only to glance back for a brief moment. The Prince is following, albeit at a distance. He looks just as grumpy as Minseok feels. Something in Minseok’s chest knocks loose, an old emotion that he hasn’t felt in a long time now rattling toward his heart until he’s letting out a sigh. Compassion. The Prince clearly hasn’t eaten in days and he looks like he’s about to stumble to the ground and pass out.

“Once we’re a safe distance away, we’ll stop so you can rest. I have food and water.”

The Prince looks unsure, but finally nods his head after a moment. “That would be appreciated.”

Minseok leads the Prince toward where he’d camped earlier. The grass is still stamped down and Minseok pulls out the carpet for them both to sit on. It has no other use now that there’s two of them. It can’t fly with the weight of more than one person on it, but it’ll do nicely as a tablecloth for Minseok to spread the food on.

That royal demeanor falls the moment the Prince lifts the first bite of chicken to his mouth. He makes this humming moan, eyes rolling back in his head and Minseok feels satisfied that he’s done some good. He’s not heartless. This quest, however, has gotten under his skin and not in the good way. It’s like a festering wound that he wants to disinfect and sew closed, never to be thought of again.

“Did my parents hire you to find me?” the Prince asks once most of his chicken is gone. There’s still food in his mouth and Minseok cringes, watching as the royal son licks the grease messily from his fingers.

“No,” he answers. “I came on my own.”

The Princes raises an eyebrow at that, looking at Minseok for him to continue.

Minseok doesn’t. “We’ll rest here until dawn. Then we will begin the trek back to your castle.”

“But we’re still so close to where I was taken,” the Prince protests.

“You are well hidden,” Minseok assures him. “I suggest you sleep. We have a lot of walking ahead of us.”




Minseok considers himself a patient man. One has to have patience when mastering an art such as magic, but his traveling companion is intent on draining all the patience from Minseok before noon. They’ve only been walking for a few hours, but his Princeliness, apparently, isn’t keen on getting his feet dirty. Also, he’s possibly the clumsiest person Minseok’s ever encountered. Minseok’s started counting the number of times he’s tripped since they started. It’s up to sixty-four.

“Sixty-five,” Minseok says under his breath when he hears the thud of his Royal Pain-In-The-Ass hitting the ground again. Thankfully the forest bed absorbs most of the sound, so it’s not an alarm to anyone who may be searching for them in the area.

“This is ridiculous,” the Prince snaps.

“Completely,” Minseok mutters too low to be heard.

“How much further do we have to go?”

Minseok stops to turn and watch as the Prince dusts off his already brown stained knees. His outfit is ruined, and he could use a bath. The Prince looks more like a beggar in the streets, his clothes in ruins and dirt smudged face one that draws pity instead of awe. It’s quite the switch.

“I expect it will take four, maybe five days to get to the castle,” Minseok answers.

The Prince sputters, stopping to lean against a tree with wide eyes. “Are we to walk the entire way?”

“No,” Minseok begins, unable to help himself. “I anticipate you’ll be crawling soon.”

It’s obvious that he’s angered the Prince. It’s such a shame that Minseok doesn’t care. He turns to continue walking, leaving the fuming Prince behind until he has to run to catch up. “What’s in this for you?” the Prince spits. “You wouldn’t be here rescuing me if there wasn’t some kind of reward. All you mages are self serving.”

“You’re not wrong,” Minseok answers, unmoved by the intended insult. “Rescuing your sorry behind was completely self serving seeing as someone set me up to take the fall for your kidnapping. So do try to behave and keep quiet, so this is as painless as possible.”

“If it’s such an inconvenience, why not just magic me home? If you truly aren’t in league with the one who took me, you’ll take me home immediately.”

“Not until I discover who kidnapped you,” Minseok snaps. “Taking you home would probably just lead to you getting taken all over again.” There’s a muffled curse behind Minseok, probably from the Prince stubbing his toe on a tree root. Minseok could have taken them on an easier path, but it would take longer.

“You think I’m foolish enough to be taken twice?” the Prince grunts.

“Yes,” Minseok answers without hesitation or doubt. “It’s in your nature to be too arrogant for your own good.”

“Says the mage.”

“I’m not the one convinced he has a grasp on a world that’s falling apart,” Minseok snarls, reaching up to wipe at the sweat beading along his forehead. “I’m humble enough to understand that I do not control the magic in this world, and yet you royals think you do. You’re too self-assured to listen to reason. I’ve tried.” Minseok learned a long time ago that the King didn’t truly care about the danger he was putting their world in so long as he got his precious gems. Minseok had tried explaining that if they’re all to perish, his gems would mean nothing, but the point was lost. It’s left a permanent bad taste in Minseok’s mouth.

“So tell me.”

Minseok stops, head tilting before he turns to look at the Prince. “Pardon?”

“I’m right here and we have nothing but time, so enlighten me. Maybe I can do something about it.”

“I went to your father once,” Minseok starts, this time waiting for the Prince to make it to his side before he continues walking. “I wanted to warn him that the gem mines in the southern mountains were too deep. I’d been there myself, and without the proper magic bolsters embedded in the thin tunnel walls, they are going to break through to another plane soon and everyone inside will either be sucked in, or chaos is going to spill out. Your father could not see past his own ego, and he had me dismissed.”

“That certainly sounds like my father,” the Prince responds. “But we need those gems; they are how we pay to keep the people protected and fed. Those gems fund new homes and villages, allow us to create more farms.”

“At the expense of everyone’s lives,” Minseok interjects. “How can you believe that’s an acceptable risk?”

“It’s what the people need.”

“They need a world that isn’t about to be torn apart!”

“You don’t understand,” the Prince accuses, his lip curled. “You mages don’t know how to run a country.”

“From what I’ve seen, neither do you.”

“That one’s going to leave a mark,” comes a small voice that belongs to neither Minseok nor the Prince.

Minseok’s eyes narrow. “Is there an imp in your pocket?”

“Maybe,” comes the small voice before Baekhyun’s head pops out from the small pocket on the front of the Prince’s shirt. “I needed somewhere safer to go and he keeps me company.”

“Why would you choose him?” Minseok inquires. “Of all people, why him?”

“There’s enough lingering magic on this princely creature to keep me satisfied for years,” Baekhyun purrs.

The Prince grins down at the imp, patting him lightly on the head. Minseok shakes his own head and continues walking, picking up the pace. It isn’t until later, after they’ve sat down under the shade of the trees and had a silent lunch, that he realizes the implications of Baekhyun’s words. There aren’t many beings in this world who could leave behind enough residual magic on someone or something else that it would last for years.

That narrows his list of suspects, but also renders his knowledge useless. He doesn’t know specifically of any beings that powerful other than the gods and the ancient dragons that have all mostly turned to stone. Yifan is the only active one that he knows of and Yifan hasn’t moved from his perch atop Ragnok Peak in the northern mountains for centuries. Minseok can’t go to the other mages either; he doesn’t know who to trust. He’s going to have to figure this out on his own.

It puzzles Minseok, keeps his brain cycling through all the information he’s gleaned over the years, searching for some hint of a creature powerful enough for this. He’s mumbling to himself, sorting through what he remembers of the Mishandled Prophecies collection when the Prince interrupts his train of thought.

“I can’t go any further,” the man proclaims.

Minseok is prepared to scold him for his laziness, but in his concentration, he’s failed to notice that it’s already dark. The world has gone to sleep around them, and Minseok doesn’t protest when the Prince flops on the ground to rest. It’s unusual that the residents of these forests haven’t sought Minseok out, but it’s not surprising. The presence of the Prince has probably caused them to flee. Mages are the only humans that the fae folk entreat with, but only when they’re alone.

They make camp hidden in the trees, Minseok’s spells around them to keep intruders from stumbling upon them unawares. The Prince curls himself on top of the carpet, almost instantly falling asleep after filling his belly. Minseok watches him for a while, still chewing on his own meal as he rests against the trunk of an old tree. He wonders what it is about this man that’s important enough for him to be woven into such an intricate scheme.

Nothing adds up and Minseok is more lost than ever.




Breakfast is a silent matter. Minseok woke the Prince just after the sun rose, and he’s still scowling, occasionally grumbling in a low voice that Minseok can’t hear. He can only presume that he’s speaking to Baekhyun because he can hear Baekhyun’s laughter follow.

The Prince complains when Minseok begins packing everything away inside his robes, preparing to begin the day’s journey. Minseok sends him a glare, but he knows how the Prince feels. Minseok’s body is protesting the strain. Even when he walks from village to village, town to town to do a little upkeep, he breaks often. This is different and far more grueling without a clear path in front of them.

Minseok leads them onward, still chewing on the current problem of not knowing if he should even be taking the Prince back toward his castle. He’s right about the kidnapper potentially sweeping the Prince away again, but he can’t not take him home either. He’s trying to clear his name, not add to the crimes he’s been accused of. He’s been hoping the culprit for all this will make an appearance, but it doesn’t seem his luck is that fortunate.

Luck does, however, lead them to a river. They stop at the bank, the water flowing pleasantly enough that they’ll be able to cross without a problem. “We should break on the other side,” Minseok suggests. “We could both use a bath.”

The Prince seems to agree, immediately launching himself into the river, clothing and all. Minseok, who had begun disrobing, pauses when he hears the splash. A mop of wet hair pops up from the surface, covering most of the Prince’s face save for his broad grin. “It’s great!” he exclaims, turning and diving back under.

Minseok tries not to be amused, folding his robes carefully and spelling them to be waterproof as he begins wading into the water, his shoes tucked safely inside his robes. The thin clothing he’d had on under his robes soon soaks through, sticking to his skin unpleasantly. The river reaches his neck at the deepest point, and the water is warm. He reaches the other side, pulling himself up the bank to place his robes beneath the shade of the closest tree. It’s within eyesight of the river and Minseok spells them to be untouchable to all save himself before leaving for the water again.

He’s eager to clean the itch of dirt from himself, shrugging off his top to leave behind. Minseok can’t entirely let his guard down; leaving behind his robe is a necessary risk. Yet he does enjoy the freedom of sinking below the surface. He comes up refreshed, shaking his head and running his fingers through dark strands of hair to keep them out of his face.

When he opens his eyes, the Prince isn’t far from him. Some time between Minseok storing his robes and then diving in, the Prince has shed his clothing. They lay in a sopping wet pile on the bank and Minseok can’t help looking at the broad, bare torso in his view. Minseok will be the first to admit that he doesn’t care for company which has led to him being alone for most of his life. That must be why he can’t stop stealing glances, sometimes finding his eyes glued dangerously low on the Prince’s stomach when he moves into the shallower water.

He’s only curious. The flush that threatens to crawl up the back of Minseok’s neck is doused in the water and he quickly rinses himself as clean as he can. As much as he’d like to take his time, they shouldn’t dawdle. They still have a long journey ahead of them and they’re only going to get dirty again.

Minseok reluctantly leaves the water, dripping on the grass around him as he takes a moment to appreciate the sun on his skin and the peacefulness of the atmosphere. Any other day and he’d stop here to simply take it all in, uncaring of anything else. It’s relaxing and some of the stress that’s piled on his shoulders since this whole thing began starts to melt away. There’s a connection between him and nature, between him and the magic that runs through every living thing and Minseok taps into it, breathing it in to revitalize himself.

“You’re glowing.”

Minseok inhales sharply, peace interrupted by the Prince’s deep voice. When he turns to snap at the Prince, he finds his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. The Prince is standing near him, water dripping from his hair and down his bare chest, then further still. He’s not wearing anything and he looks completely at ease about it. Minseok can see why.

The anger is forgotten, and Minseok just blinks at him. “You need new clothing.”

The Prince casts a glance at his torn, stained clothes that are still in a pile before nodding. “I do.”

“Let me see what I can do.”

Minseok can’t seem to get the image of the naked Prince out of his head, even when he’s focused on finding the right pocket in his robes. He always keeps spare clothing with him, although anything he has will be too small for the Prince. He’s so broad. And tall. And rather handsome when he isn’t covered in dirt.

Minseok grumbles at that thought, relieved when he finds the right pocket. He pulls two pairs of paints and two shirts from his robes, holding them up triumphantly. They’re not special like the Prince’s usual wardrobe, but they’re all Minseok’s ever needed. He holds one set of clothing in his right hand, urging the magic in his fingers to adjust the size so they’re better suited for the Prince.

“Thank you,” the Prince says when he takes the clothing from Minseok. Minseok is determined not to stare at the muscles that flex in the Prince’s arms or how sturdy his thighs appear to be when he slips on the pants. He pulls his gaze away, shaking his head to rid himself of pesky thoughts that will do him no good. He’s here to untangle this knot of a mess, not drool over a well built - very well built and tall and broad - Prince.

“I never did learn your name.”

Minseok sweeps wet hair from his face, standing and peering at the Prince. He’s not wearing the shirt, but the pants seem long enough to reach his ankles. “Minseok.”

“Minseok,” he repeats, smiling. “I’m Chanyeol.”

There’s no Prince tacked onto the introduction, no regal stare that demands Minseok lower to his knee to pay fealty. The Prince - Chanyeol - runs long fingers through his wet hair, shaking the strands and making a pleased sound.

“Now that I’m clean, it’s not so bad out here,” the Prince begins, staring up at the clear sky. “I could get used to this.” There are purpling bruises around the Prince’s wrists and Minseok reaches out without thinking, rubbing his thumb over the injury. The Prince jerks a little, hissing through his teeth.

“I should have something to help with this.” Minseok goes back to his robes, quickly finding a medicinal balm that he keeps for minor injuries. He twists off the cap, and when he turns, Chanyeol is watching him with such intent that his stomach twists uncomfortably. “This should take the pain away and help speed the healing,” he explains, ignoring the warmth of the Prince’s skin against his fingers when he smooths the balm over the bruises.

His fingers linger, rubbing in circles over Chanyeol’s wrists until Minseok realizes what he’s doing and pulls back, taking a step away. “We should get moving. I still don’t know who is responsible for this, but you have a home to get back to.”

“You know,” the Prince begins, finally pulling the shirt on over his head. “You’re not as awful as I thought.”

Minseok sighs at the familiar weight of his robe on his shoulders, taking comfort in the safety that comes with it. He ties it closed and gives Chanyeol a soft smile. “None of us really are.”

He has to siphon all the water he can from Chanyeol’s boots before they leave, heading further away from the trees. Perhaps Minseok has been going about it wrong. He wants to get caught by the kidnapper; keeping hidden in the forest is counter-productive.

A wriggling in Minseok’s pocket has him looking down, unimpressed as Baekhyun pokes his head out from inside his robe. “Are we away from the water yet?” he inquires, his tail swaying in time with Minseok’s steps.

“We are.”

“Oh, how delightful!” Baekhyun puffs away in a small cloud of deep purple smoke only to reappear on Chanyeol’s shoulder. He takes stock of Chanyeol’s new attire before skittering down the cloth to take up residence in the pocket of his pants.

“I was thinking,” Chanyeol begins, keeping himself at Minseok’s side as they walk. “Maybe you’re right about the gem mine thing.”

Minseok lets out a surprised noise, mostly because it’s a miracle that a royal has expressed anything that implies they weren’t absolutely right.

“I’m right too,” the Prince adds. “We need the mines. But the risks, if they’re as bad as you say, aren’t worth it.”

“Those mines delve deep into the ground, and they’re rich in precious gems because of their proximity to another plane. There’s a weak point between us and another world, and your people dig closer to it every day. If it’s pierced, the best case scenario is that our worlds blend together as one, but many will die.”

“So how do you propose we fix it?”

Minseok peers over at the Prince; he may be in plain clothing, his hair beginning to frizz at the ends where it’s drying, but he still holds a regal bearing. He’s not mocking Minseok or making light of his claims. He’s taking them to heart and that’s more than Minseok ever expected. “The weak spot needs bolstering. It would take more than one mage to accomplish such a thing, and even with all of us, I don’t know for sure that it would be enough.”

“Would all of you do it?” Chanyeol scrapes his teeth over his lower lip, almost appearing unsure of himself. “If I asked it of you, as the Crown Prince, would you do it?”

“We would.”

“Now I’m asking,” Chanyeol stops walking, reaching out to stop Minseok too, a hand on his arm. “Will you and your fellow mages keep us from disaster?”

Something swells in Minseok’s chest, pressing tight against his ribs. This Prince is so earnest, so determined and willing to do what no other royal has before. “Yes,” he answers. “We will.”

The Prince tightens his grip on Minseok’s arm before letting his hand fall. “Thank you.”

“But first we must unravel our current mystery and get you home.”

“You said the kidnapper set you up,” the Prince comments as they begin walking again.

The grass rustles around Minseok’s robe and the sun has him squinting to see ahead. “My face is on the Wanted Posters,” Minseok tells him. “And one of your guards recognized me when I popped in to borrow one of your crowns.”

Minseok looks over at the Prince, blinking at his head. “Your crown.”

“At the bottom of the river.” He doesn’t look remorseful in the least. The crown is probably lost for good, carried off on a current; after it landed on the Prince’s head, the spell was complete so it won’t be chasing after them. Chanyeol ruffles his hair sheepishly, staring at the ground.

“You look better without it,” Minseok comments offhandedly before he can catch himself. He’s not anticipating the warm smile that follows, and he returns the smile without thinking.

There isn’t much that a mage and a prince could have in common, but Minseok learns, as the day wears on and they continue their journey, that they both know what it’s like to be alone. There aren’t many children in the world with an affinity for magic and even fewer who have what it takes to get through the challenges of the Tower, to become a full mage. Minseok had spent most of his teenage years alone with his studies; his only company had been the older mages who were there to push him to his limits.

Like Minseok, Chanyeol spent his youth sequestered from outside influences, tutored by those hand-picked by his father to teach him what he wanted his son to know. He tells Minseok of days spent surrounded only by maps and books on battle strategy, afternoons filled with combat training until he was bleeding and dirty and unable to lift himself from the ground.

They both understand loneliness and the push to strive for being the best because anything less is unacceptable. Minseok finds a new appreciation for Chanyeol; he’s managed to keep his own mind through it all when so many others would have been lost to the conditioning. Minseok’s seen the damaged, broken minds that are the consequence of not being able to hold on to oneself. It’s an impressive feat, and even if Chanyeol’s challenges weren’t magic in nature, they were no less brutal.

They share pieces of themselves as they walk, Minseok opening up with a little prodding. Chanyeol tells him of the first time he’d met a mage; he’d been thrown from his horse as a boy, breaking both his legs in several places. The physicians had told him and his father that Chanyeol would never walk again. The King had called on the mages to help and one answered.

“Mending bone is a painful process,” Minseok comments and Chanyeol nods.

“The worst pain I’ve ever felt, but it changed how I saw your kind,” Chanyeol tells him with a note of nostalgia. “My tutors all spoke of mages as selfish and uncaring for the people in the world they live in. But this mage, with his gentle hands and kind words, wasn’t anything like that.”

Minseok’s chest compresses when he realizes Chanyeol is talking about his mage.

“I knew then that I couldn’t blindly believe everything that I was taught.”

“It’s important to know yourself and to stick to it even when others seek to tear you down.”

“What of you?”

Minseok chews the inside of his cheek thoughtfully before answering. “The Tower requires you to give all of yourself. The trick is to give yourself over, but also to take yourself back. We are taught that all life is to be valued - human, fae, plant. It’s all part of a delicate cycle. Without one, the world would be thrown into chaos.” Minseok pauses to take a breath, looking over to meet Chanyeol’s gaze. “That’s what mages strive to protect. We are only seen as selfish because we don’t heed the petty demands of the greedy and seek to better the world instead.”

Chanyeol offers Minseok a nod of understanding, releasing his lower lip from his teeth before speaking. “My father is convinced that mages are responsible for the ancient dragons disappearing, and that you’re hiding the treasure hoards for yourselves.”

Minseok’s eyes grow wide and the indignation claws its way through him. “That is a lie!” he exclaims. “The dragons are our friends.”

“Hey,” Chanyeol says softly, pausing as he rests his hand on Minseok’s arm. “I didn’t mean that I believe it.”

Somehow, that calms Minseok, and he deflates, taking comfort in Chanyeol’s touch. “I know.”

They stand there, staring at each other. Minseok sees the strength in Chanyeol, all the potential for him to learn and become a better ruler than any of his predecessors. His eyes are warm and gentle, his demeanor calming instead of imposing now that his regality has been stripped from him. It’s a striking difference from how he’d found him, hiding behind his station because he was frightened.

Minseok can’t fully let his guard down - not when he’s still waiting for the kidnapper to make an appearance - but he does relax more now that Chanyeol fills the silence with his soothing voice. It’s easy to fall into conversation when it’s just the two of them; there’s no title or prejudice. It’s simply two men traveling together, making a path through the fields as they share pieces of their lives.

The temperature drops with the sun, leaving the air chilled without the cover of trees to block it. They stop for the day with nothing around them save for empty space filled with flowers and the small animals that live in the grass. Minseok pulls the one sleeping bag he has from his robe pocket, but it’s the only one he has and it’s not enough.

“You can use it,” Minseok offers, laying the sleeping bag on the carpet so it’s more cushioned. “I can spell my robes to keep me warm.”

Chanyeol gives Minseok this odd look. “Not everything needs a magical solution,” he comments. “We can share the sleeping bag and our natural body heat will keep us plenty warm.”

Minseok is skeptical, especially when he sees Chanyeol already pulling off his shirt to toss to the side. He’s suddenly feeling parched, ready to assure Chanyeol that he’ll be fine, but Chanyeol doesn’t give him the chance.

“Come on,” he urges. “If you want to keep me safe from magical kidnappers, you’re going to have to stick close.”

It’s a childish taunt, followed by Chanyeol grinning as he slides effortlessly into the sleeping bag. He holds open the side in invitation and Minseok really doesn’t think this is a good idea, but he does it anyway. He shrugs off his robes, leaving them within reach beside him before laying next to Chanyeol. He stops breathing when Chanyeol leans over him, zipping the side of the sleeping bag all the way to the top.

There isn’t much space between them at all and Minseok gasps when he feels something poking at his thigh.

“Well this is cozy,” Baekhyun comments, climbing the rest of the way out of Chanyeol’s pocket, knocking against Minseok’s thigh on his way up. The imp looks amused as his gaze flicks between Chanyeol and Minseok. “I’ll be sleeping in your robe,” Baekhyun informs Minseok before prancing over to disappear inside one of the pockets.

Minseok rolls to face away from Chanyeol, his heart in his throat as he calms himself. It’s just sleep.

The weight of Chanyeol’s arm slides around Minseok’s waist, pulling him back. Minseok startles and Chanyeol has the nerve to chuckle. “I’m just getting warm.”

Chanyeol soon falls asleep, his breathing even and breath warm as it puffs against the back of Minseok’s neck. Minseok stays up later, his heart beating too quickly to let him fully relax. It takes a while for him to finally melt against Chanyeol, finally letting his eyes close, warm and comfortable and content.




Minseok is agitated.

It has nothing to do with the man striding alongside him, but everything to do with the quiet peacefulness of the day. It shouldn’t be peaceful. He’s still no closer to finding who took Chanyeol from his home, and they’re getting closer to the castle with each passing hour. There should have been some sort of confrontation by now. It has Minseok on edge, senses on high alert.

Chanyeol, however, is thriving in the outdoors. There’s a healthy glow to his skin, a constant smile on his lips as he takes to rolling in the grass or darting ahead, arms stretched wide. Minseok tries not to be taken in, but it’s a lesson in futility. Chanyeol is a beacon of light, warm and bright, and Minseok is drawn in as a moth is to a flame.

His mood is infectious, and even if it doesn’t lower all Minseok’s defenses, it does have him smiling, sometimes giving chase to Chanyeol to keep him in his sights.

They make it to a village, the first signs of life, near midday. It’s a good thing too because Minseok’s rations are nearly depleted. He hadn’t planned on it taking so long to sort this mess out. Chanyeol nearly barges in without thought, but Minseok has to pull him back, scolding him for being reckless.

“In case you’ve forgotten, my face is plastered all over the kingdom and you’re the Prince,” he hisses under his breath. “We can’t be out in the open without disguises.”

Chanyeol scrunches his nose and gives Minseok a shrug. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “I got carried away.”

Minseok sighs, irritation evaporating. “Just let me give us new faces, and we can go find some place to eat.”

It only takes a minute, Minseok trying not to stare too intently at Chanyeol’s face as he casts the spell that will make them both appear as nondescript, ordinary citizens. As soon as he’s finished, Chanyeol’s fingers are around Minseok’s wrist, tugging them toward the village with a skip in his step. It’s not a large town and it’s easy to weave their way through the streets to a building where the wafting scent of freshly baked bread is tantalizing their mouths.

“Greetings, and welcome,” greets a young man behind the counter. “What may I get for you today?” As he speaks, the young man’s eyes travel to Chanyeol, lingering on his tall figure, eyes resting, finally, on Chanyeol’s face.

Chanyeol is licking his lips as he scans over all the freshly baked goods on the shelves. Minseok is focused on Chanyeol, watching as he finally picks out several muffins and a small loaf of bread for them to share. The resulting gawking stare that Chanyeol gets from the shop boy is enough to have Minseok nearly in tears from trying to hold back his laughter. Minseok slips the boy the coins for their purchase, shaking and trying to keep from bursting as the boy hands the items to Chanyeol with wide eyes and his mouth still agape.

“What’s going on?” Chanyeol whispers in Minseok’s ear once they’ve left the shop. He’s tearing the loaf of bread in half, offering the larger portion to Minseok.

“Good day sir,” a passerby greets, the man nodding at them both. “And lady,” he adds once he gets a look at Chanyeol.

“Lady!” Chanyeol says, stopping in his tracks.

Minseok can’t help it; the laughter just spills from him, and he grabs Chanyeol by the arm to pull him toward a more secluded area. It’s with great difficulty that Minseok explains to Chanyeol that the spell only changed their outward appearance. So Chanyeol now looks like a very tall woman, but when he speaks, it’s with his real voice which explains the shopkeeper’s reaction.

“You made me a woman,” Chanyeol deadpans.

“I gave you the appearance of a woman,” Minseok corrects.

“You could have warned me. I probably shocked that poor bakery boy into a stupor.”

“That wouldn’t have been any fun.”

Chanyeol shakes his head, knocking his shoulder against Minseok’s before wandering off, leaving Minseok to follow. They take more time than they should in the village, loitering until late afternoon. Minseok finds himself feeling carefree, his spirits lifted as they finally leave the buildings behind. There’s another expanse of open land before them, but with this first village, Minseok knows it won’t be long before they reach their destination.

It’s that line of thinking that pulls his mouth into a frown, brushing off Chanyeol’s inquiries as to why he looks so somber. They stay the night under the open sky, Minseok wide awake as Chanyeol sleeps beside him. It’s warm in the sleeping bag; Chanyeol is warmer, his arm keeping Minseok from rolling away from him. Minseok thinks about everything that’s led him here and wonders how it’s all going to end. Even if he gets the Prince back to his castle, it won’t end until he discovers how it all began.

Chanyeol’s mood matches Minseok’s when they wake, quietly packing everything away and beginning their journey to the next village. Minseok catches Chanyeol staring at him a few times, always wanting to question him about it, but he can never push the words off his tongue. He just offers Chanyeol a smile and drops his eyes to the ground.

They’re properly disguised behind Minseok’s magic when they enter outskirts of another village. It’s close to dusk, and there are small children laughing and running through the buildings. They’re carrying crudely designed fireworks, holding them out as the ends sparkle bright white. Chanyeol is watching them with a fond look on his face and Minseok’s stomach clenches.

It only takes a simple wave of his hand, the magic pouring from his easily, for the sparklers to turn from white to multicolored, popping to life as the children shriek in happiness. Minseok is pleased at the smile he’s put on Chanyeol’s face, the beam that’s wider than any of the children.

“What?” Minseok asks when Chanyeol reaches over to squeeze his hand.

“Nothing.”

They don’t go into the village proper, hovering around the edges because it’s too risky to stay there overnight. Chanyeol is more subdued as they make their way around and past the buildings. Minseok doesn’t ask. This adventure has probably taken a lot out of him.

They stop for the night by a stream, Minseok deciding to forego the shield tonight. There’s no point if nothing is going to happen. He sighs as he stares up at the sky, counting the stars until they begin to blur in his vision. He doesn’t know if Chanyeol has fallen asleep or not, and he doesn’t look, curling his toes in the sleeping bag.

“We should make it to the castle tomorrow,” Minseok sighs. There’s a sadness that comes with that knowledge; he doesn’t know why. He’s been so ready to have this quest finished since it began.

“Yeah,” comes a sighed response from beside him. Minseok turns his head to look at Chanyeol, surprised that he doesn’t look happier about the news. The soft sound of snoring comes from Chanyeol’s discarded shirt. Baekhyun has been mostly out of sight, but he’s still with them, living off Minseok’s magic and the residual magic that still clings to Chanyeol.

Chanyeol shifts beside Minseok, rolling onto his side to look at him. Minseok mimics the action, watching as several emotions play out over Chanyeol’s face. “I’m going to miss this,” Chanyeol finally whispers.

A longing takes hold of Minseok, but he forces it down. He wants to reach out and brush the hair from Chanyeol’s face, reassure him that it’ll all be fine, and this will fade into a distant memory soon enough. But he doesn’t.

“I don’t want to go back,” Chanyeol confesses.

Minseok lets out a surprised huff of laughter. “It’s your home.”

“I’m happier out here. I’ve never had this freedom before.”

Minseok gives him a sad smile. “You have a responsibility -”

“I know,” Chanyeol says, cutting him off. “I know.”

“I’m not talking about your studies or your father,” Minseok clarifies. “I mean you have a responsibility to your people. You can do so much good in this world. The people need you.”

“What about you?” Chanyeol asks.

Minseok swallows, nervous under the intensity of Chanyeol’s gaze. “I suppose I’ll miss you,” Minseok says softly. “A little.”

There’s a pregnant silence between them, Minseok unable to pull his gaze away from Chanyeol. There’s more that he wants to say, but he doesn’t even know what the words would be. They’re all jumbled up in his throat, keeping him silent. It’s Chanyeol who moves first, Minseok sucking in a sharp breath just as Chanyeol’s lips press against his.

Minseok freezes, eyes wide open as the sensation sweeps through him. Chanyeol is warm and inviting, his presence one that Minseok now enjoys instead of tolerates. His heart begins racing, his eyes closing as Minseok realizes what it is he’s been feeling. He finally kisses Chanyeol back, looping an arm around Chanyeol’s neck to drag him closer.

His head goes fuzzy, his lips parting as Chanyeol rolls him onto his back, his body pressing Minseok into the sleeping bag. Minseok’s hands roam over the expanse of Chanyeol’s bare back, groaning at the tug of Chanyeol’s fingers in his hair. Chanyeol seems intent on stealing his breath, and Minseok lets him, falling into this dizzying affection willingly. He hasn’t cared for many people in his life thus far; maybe it’s time he let someone in.

They kiss until Minseok can’t feel his lips, and they fall asleep wrapped around one another, content for this moment in time.

Morning comes too soon. Minseok doesn’t want to drag himself out of Chanyeol’s embrace, but they must finish this. He must see that Chanyeol is returned home, and his name is cleared. It feels like such a hollow victory now. Not only does he not know who set him on this path, but he’s going to lose the one thing he’s grown to want.

Chanyeol brushes his hand against Minseok’s, letting their fingers slide together before Minseok takes his hand and holds it firmly. If this is all he can get, he’s going to take it. There isn’t much left to be said as they begin their walk. Perhaps their steps are a little slower, their pauses stretched a bit longer. Minseok feels like there’s a vice around his throat every time he tries to speak, so he remains quiet.

Neither of them say a word until the top most turrets of the castle come into view on the horizon. Minseok feels the way Chanyeol’s fingers tighten, and he lets out a soft noise of surprise when Chanyeol tugs him back.

“Stay with me,” Chanyeol begs, his eyes pleading and words sincere. “You can be there in case my abductor comes back. You can protect me. Just please, don’t leave me.”

The idea of staying on with a royal is insulting, but this isn’t the King. This isn’t some power hungry, money mongering ruler with a greedy appetite. This is i>Chanyeol, and he’s the furthest thing from his father.

“With the two of us together, we could set this kingdom right.”

Minseok startles when Baekhyun pops out of Chanyeol’s pants pocket. The imp scurries up to Chanyeol’s shoulder to sit. “You should listen to the big guy,” the imp says.

Minseok tries to flick Baekhyun, but he disappears too quickly. He ends up on Chanyeol’s other shoulder, looking quite smug for someone so tiny.

“The imp has a point.”

Minseok startles again, spinning because that voice had come from behind him. For the third time in all his life, Minseok finds himself standing before his god. Xiumin is still in the guise of Minseok, this time with blonde hair instead of the mauve. There’s another figure beside him, a kittenish grin on his face. Baekhyun leaps from Chanyeol’s shoulder and onto the second figure, nuzzling against his face.

“Chen,” Baekhyun purrs, attaching himself to the god.

“You’re the one who took me,” Chanyeol accuses, finger pointing at Chen.

Minseok’s eyes dart between the two gods before settling on Xiumin. “You set this all up.”

“That’s what gods do,” Xiumin replies with a shrug. “I needed a way to get that pesky weak spot between the planes fortified and you, Minseok, needed a little push to break out of your shell.”

“They’re gods?” Chanyeol whispers in Minseok’s ear.

Minseok squeezes Chanyeol’s hand. “Nosy gods,” he answer. “But gods.”

“Why does he look like you?”

Xiumin grins. “It’s quite the handsome body, don’t you think?” Xiumin spins once, grinning. “Don’t answer that,” he adds, a smirk directed at Chanyeol. “I already know what you think about it.”

“Hey!” Minseok interjects, feeling oddly jealous that his god is flirting with Chanyeol while wearing his face.

Xiumin merely laughs, already beginning to back away from them. “Don’t forget to fix that weak spot. I’ll be around.” And then he’s gone, Chen and Baekhyun with him. It occurs to Minseok that Baekhyun was probably sent as a spy. Minseok grits his teeth in frustration.

Chanyeol turns to Minseok. “So about that offer to stay with me.”

“Well it doesn’t look like you’ll need my protection anymore,” Minseok gripes.

“Not from this threat, maybe,” Chanyeol begins. “But what about all the young suitors that are bound to come knocking at my door? How am I to resist when you aren’t there to remind me that my heart belongs to you?”

Minseok doesn’t know if he wants to hit Chanyeol or kiss him. “I don’t know why I like you.”

“I do,” Chanyeol beams. He kisses Minseok again, thoroughly refreshing his memory as Minseok stands on his toes to keep from breaking apart.

There could be advantages to staying with Chanyeol in the castle. There’s Chanyeol, for one. And there’s a guaranteed plush bed that he’ll be able to sleep on at night.

But the best part, by far, is more Chanyeol, he thinks, just before kissing him one more time. After all, they have yet to complete their journey and there are many more adventures to be had.