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The Sword & The Sun

Summary:

Donghyuck sets out to uphold his family's proud legacy of being a hero('s bag carrier). Johnny falls through a faerie ring while trying to get to Advertising 101. Neither of them are prepared to deal with what a true quest might entail.

Notes:

I made up a name for Donghyuck's brother because I didn't want to use any real ones.

Chapter 1: Once Upon a Time

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Lee Donghyuck grew up listening to stories his family told about the five swords hanging on the walls in the entryway of their house, three on the left and two on the right. As a young child he was entranced by the weapons and how the gleamed enticingly, as if asking to be picked up and put to the test.

“They all belonged to great adventurers,” his mother would say, “Heroes that slew powerful beasts and rescued fair maidens and were beloved the country over”. His father’s eyes would shine with pride every time he pointed to a long sword with a golden hilt, the guard of which was engraved with a roaring lion loose on a field.

“That man was one of the bravest I ever knew,” his father said, “Noble, ambitious and strong. He protected the weak and fought for what he believed in.” 

Whenever his father would get on one of these particular tangents Donghyuck wisely never pointed out that this supposedly noble, upstanding hero never bothered to send a letter to their house aside from the yearly holiday notes that were likely sent out in mass, and even then Donghyuck’s family probably only received one because the hero’s wife reminded him to write down their address on the mailing list.

Donghyuck’s family, truth be told, was not one that produced champions and warriors. They did not go out into the world with the intent of slaying monsters or challenging tyrant rulers to duels. Hell, they didn’t even really use any of the swords on the wall, unless you counted his grandparents occasionally getting one down to show the kids or the times Donghyuck secretly pulled a sword off its display to cut a slice off of a particularly stubborn ham.

No, their family had a lengthy legacy of aiding heroes. Their pride stemmed from being the guiding voice, the backup, the general comedic relief of a heroes journey. And yes, also to carry the bags. Reality was a lot more unattractive than the glamorous quests his family told him about.

“Do I really have to do that?” Donghyuck had once asked. The thought of becoming a glorified pack mule had never appealed to him, no matter what kind of fantastical journey his parents promised he would experience. His father had become angry at the very question and launched into a tirade about how he’d gone on gone his quest like his father before him, and his father before him, and- well, Donghyuck tuned out about three generations into the rant. Suffice to say, he wasn’t squirming out of the family business.

 


 

So there Donghyuck was, twenty years of age, waiting for his epic quest to begin. Well, waiting for someone else’s epic quest to begin so he could tag along like an annoying gnat buzzing around the head of a majestic stallion.

He’d tried in the past to ask his parents whether he could start an apprenticeship with some of the local businesses while he was waiting. Plenty of other children his age in their town had already started learning skills they would need to go into trading, blacksmithing, butchery and the like, so honestly Donghyuck was a good pace behind if he ever wanted a profession that wasn’t just ‘heroic leech’. His parents had, of course, refused almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

“What if you need to go on a quest? What if there’s a prophecy?” His father had said, “You need to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice!”

“I thought you could buy prophecies at the market for ten silver pieces,” Donghyuck said. He’d seen the local diviner wrapped in an array of purple and red robes every time he accompanied his mother to the town market. Needless to say Donghyuck was not impressed by the short, squirrelly man who reeked of dried fish and old incense and tried to hawk his predictions to anyone who so much as made eye contact with him.

His father had just shaken his head, “No, no, that diviner is washed up. His prophecies don’t track further than tomorrow’s forecast.” He ruffled Donghyuck’s hair, which Donghyuck usually hated, but allowed for the time being. “Just wait. Eventually an oracle will come here and we’ll get you a better prophecy.”

And so Donghyuck had waited as the other kids around him settled into their respective professions and trades. Every time he went into town, the locals at the market who recognized him would ask if he had a quest yet and every time he would have to force a smile and say ‘No, not yet’ and they would all click their tongues and shake their heads and assure him that he would find a prophecy sooner or later, as if prophecies grew on trees as abundantly as leaves did. Every night Donghyuck would beg any higher power that might be listening to send someone, anyone, to hurry fate or destiny or whatever was out there along so he could just leave town already, oh my god why is this so hard??

His prayers were answered one day when his younger brother burst into the house, throwing open the front door so hard that it banged against the back wall. Donghyuck’s mother shot his younger brother a look from where she was in the kitchen. “Lee Jinwoo!”

“Sorry!” his brother said, not sounding sorry at all. “But there’s news!”

“Oh, news,” Donghyuck deadpanned, not looking up from the potato he was peeling for his mother for dinner.

“Be nice to your brother,” his mother chided from the sink, shaking a dishrag in Donghyuck’s direction. His father grunted in agreement from where he was looking over papers at the dining table.

“Yes, news!” his brother reiterated, not deterred in the slightest, “And you should be happy, Donghyuck! They say that an oracle’s coming to town next week.” At that, the potato fell from Donghyuck’s hand to land in the bucket of peelings with a muted thunk.

His head shot up to look at his brother, his eyes wide with barely restrained hope. “You better not be joking.”

“No joke!” his brother said, placing a hand over his heart in mock solemnity. “I heard from Miss Anita at the fabric shop! Apparently her friend’s husband’s brother was doing trade a town over, and he met an oracle there who said he was heading this direction soon! He should be here in four days or so.” Donghyuck felt his heart leap into his throat. He’d been waiting for this moment for so long that now that the moment was here he wasn’t sure how to feel. He was dizzy with a combination of joy, fear, and anticipation. He set the potato peeler down on the dining table before he dropped that as well before fishing in the bucket of peelings for the half peeled potato. His mind was churning faster than a spinner’s loom trying to process the announcement.

“That’s fantastic news,” Donghyuck’s grandfather called from an armchair common area, snapping Donghyuck out of his thoughts.

His grandmother nodded from the couch. “Indeed. Hyuck’s been waiting so long…”

“Too long,” his father said, putting down his quill pen. His eyes shone with the kind of warmth Donghyuck usually only saw when his father was recounting one of the stories from his own time spent questing. “As soon as the oracle gets in, I’ll take Donghyuck to go buy a prophecy.”

“Oh, I should come too,” Donghyuck’s mother said, looking wistful. “I can’t miss my baby’s first prophecy.”

“I wish I could go,” his grandmother sighed. She looked at Donghyuck regretfully. “Be sure to come right home afterwards! I want you to read it for the first time with all of us.”

“Of course,” Donghyuck said. He was already itching to jump up and run out the door, even though he knew logically that the oracle wouldn’t be in town for days.

When he turned to his mother, she just gave him a small smile with a hint of sadness, as if Donghyuck was already leaving that evening. “We should start making sure you have everything before the oracle arrives.”

 


 

The oracle was not what Donghyuck expected- not that he had much prior exposure to go by, but still. The stories always made oracles sound dark and mysterious, moving in shadows with indistinguishable features hidden by oversized black robes. The oracle, or Ten as he apparently insisted he be called, was nothing like that.

Ten was almost unnervingly normal. He did wear a traveling cloak, but it was a dark green instead of black. The clothes under it were plain, none of the sumptuous velvet or rich silks that more prominent oracles from royal courts wore. He had short black hair that was held out of his face with a neutral smelling oil, and he didn’t reek of incense or dried herbs. Donghyuck was mildly disappointed.

He and his family had found Ten at the market where the other had set up a small blanket next to the woman who sold beaded bracelets and hair clips. Ten’s blanket was as unassuming as his own appearance, its once vivid colors now faded by the sun and time. A few of the other people in the market shot Ten awed or suspicious looks, but no one approached him. 

“Is this really the guy?” Donghyuck whispered.

“Of course,” his brother whispered back, “He’s supposed to be like… super good.” Donghyuck remained dubious.

Ten’s blanket had a variety of rolled up scrolls on it with tiny price range cards set in front of them. The cheaper ones on the left were made of fragile rice paper and tied with twine while the more expensive scrolls on the right were made of a more durable parchment tied with a silk ribbon. Some of the pricier ones even bore a red wax seal with a crest Donghyuck didn’t recognize but assumed was Ten’s standard.

“Hello!” Ten said, cheerily waving at the family, “You’ve come for a prophecy, right?”

Donghyuck’s brother gasped, “How did you know?”

“Probably because it’s the only thing he sells,” Donghyuck muttered, raising an eyebrow. His brother flushed slightly, elbowing Donghyuck in the ribs.

Ten laughed. “I sell other things! I have good luck charms, if you want one as well.” He pointed to a pile of polished rocks with runes etched into them. One rune Donghyuck recognized as a protection rune that matched the rune carved into the wood over the front door of his house.

“We’ll just be taking a prophecy,” Donghyuck’s father said, “A good one. It’s his first time.” Donghyuck felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment as Ten gave him a once over.

“Dad!” he hissed.

“I see,” Ten said, smiling, “Well, feel free to browse. Unfortunately, I can't let you open them. I’m sure you’re aware that once you open a prophecy it becomes fate.”

“Of course,” Donghyuck’s father said.

“Then I won’t waste your time explaining it to you,” Ten said, making a grand sweeping gesture to his scrolls, “The more expensive ones are more time consuming. The cheaper ones are fairly mild if you just want him to have a brief quest.” He met Donghyuck’s eyes again and for an instant Donghyuck had the unsettling feeling that Ten was looking straight into his thoughts, “But I think you’re the kind to take a risk, hm?”

“Don’t be scared,” Donghyuck’s mother said, misreading Donghyuck’s apprehension toward Ten as fear, “Just pick one you’re drawn to.”

Donghyuck looked down at the neat line of scrolls. Before they’d left home, his father had told him that price wasn’t an issue and that Donghyuck was free to choose whatever prophecy he wanted, but the amount listed on the most expensive scroll made Donghyuck feel a bit ill. Who had that much gold to blow on a prophecy? He was sure that if he picked that one his family would be eating leaner for the next few months.

The cheaper scrolls wouldn’t do either. His father would think he was chickening out and he’d never hear the end of it from his younger brother. That left only the mid-range scrolls. Donghyuck scanned them carefully, ignoring his brother next to him that was shifting from foot to foot as they waited.

One of the scrolls Donghyuck immediately ruled out. He wasn’t sure why, but it just gave off majorly bad energy. Clearly that one was not meant for him. He was pretty sure Ten snickered at the face he made just looking at it. That left only three other scrolls remaining. One was bound with a red silk ribbon while the other two had black. Donghyuck wondered if it was bad etiquette to pick a prophecy with ‘eenie meenie miney mo’.

After a few seconds of internal debate Donghyuck selected the prophecy with the red ribbon. It was expensive enough to satisfy his dad, but hopefully not so intense that he wound up charbroiled in a dragon’s lair. “I’ll take this one.”

“A good choice!” Ten declared with a grin that was frustratingly unreadable. Donghyuck’s father and Ten negotiated the price for a few minutes as Donghyuck picked up the scroll. He trailed a finger down the smooth parchment, noting how uncomfortably warm the paper grew under his touch. The knot of the silk ribbon seemed to taunt him with how easily it could be unraveled.

Ten minutes later, Donghyuck’s father had handed over the gold and the family set out back to their home as Ten waved to them. “Come back any time!” the oracle called, giving Donghyuck one last knowing wink. Donghyuck flinched as the paper in his hand abruptly flashed ice cold.

 


 

“Read it, read it!” Donghyuck’s brother said as soon as they made it inside their house.

“Slow down, Jinwoo,” his mother said, placing a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, “We have to get Grandma and Grandpa.”

Donghyuck’s grandparents were already awake and waiting in the common room, his grandmother on the couch with a blanket laid over her legs and his grandfather in his usual armchair by the fire. Donghyuck’s father took his own spot in an armchair on the opposite side of the fire while Donghyuck sat on the couch next to his grandmother. His mother and brother joined him on the couch soon after.

“Oh, this is nice,” his grandmother said, tapping the parchment as Donghyuck pulled the prophecy out, “Good quality.”

Donghyuck’s grandfather snorted. “Back in my day we had to memorize prophecies.” Donghyuck valiantly did not roll his eyes at that.

“Well, I guess it’s time then,” his mother said, giving Donghyuck an encouraging smile, “Are you ready, Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck looked down at the prophecy in his hand, feeling a bit out of his depth knowing that this piece of paper would decide the next course of action his life took. “I. Yes. I think so.” He took a deep breath and steeled his resolve, internally reasoning that if he didn’t do this, his life would just go back to the dreary monotony he’d always lived with.

He lifted a hand and tugged on one end of the silk ribbon. It unraveled with barely a whisper. The parchment unrolled slightly to give Donghyuck a glimpse of spiky black letters. Oh gods, Donghyuck thought, it’s really happening. He barely remembered unrolling the parchment. It was as if he was watching someone else do it. For a split second the words on the page swam before him, hardly making sense to his own eyes, before rearranging into proper phrases. 

 

Donghyuck licked his lips before reading aloud to his family: 

 

Hope sleeps where the light hits the overgrown,

Anger resides where darkness touches the unknown,

Fear hides under stone and fire’s embrace,

Happiness dances through the water’s resting place,

 

Hunger bends low where the Sun meets the sands,

Reason speaks loud where knowledge changes hands,

Strength lies weary where fields flame red,

Music is silenced by a tight woven thread,

 

Death attempts thrice to undo a wrong,

The Sun burns bright and accepts all along

 

What the fuck,’ Donghyuck thought.

“Oh that’s so wonderful!” Donghyuck’s mother said aloud, “How poetic!”

“Nicer than the one your grandfather had,” his grandmother tittered. His grandfather barked a laugh in agreement.

Donghyuck’s father nodded. “A proper prophecy. Leaves a lot to think about, hm?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck replied weakly. ‘Kind of wish it was a little more obvious though,’ he thought, ‘Why can’t prophecies just be something like get this gem to this temple and be done with it? Why all the mystery and metaphors?’

“I don’t get it,” Jinwoo said, leaning over Donghyuck’s arm to try and squint at the prophecy. Donghyuck shoved his brother off before the other could wrinkle the paper.

“You’re not supposed to ‘get it’, idiot,” Donghyuck said, far more confidently than he felt.

“Don’t call your brother an idiot,” his mother scolded.

“Sorry,” Donghyuck said to his brother in the blandest voice he could muster.

Jinwoo rolled his eyes. “Well, when are you supposed to get started on this anyway? Is there some kind of deadline? Is the world gonna end if you don’t hurry?”

“Most prophecies don’t have deadlines,” his father said, “This one sounds pretty open ended to me.”

“The first line is about hope,” his mother pointed out, tapping a finger on the first phrase, “I bet that’s whoever your hero is.”

At that Donghyuck was immediately brought back down to earth. Right, he thought bitterly, this prophecy wasn’t about him. He was meant to present this prophecy to the actual hero, who would then proceed to go find anger or strength or whatever, and afterwards, once they had a castle and land and a happily ever after, they’d barely even remember to write Donghyuck a thank you letter.

“Can’t wait to meet them,” Donghyuck said dryly, rolling the scroll back up and tying the ribbon back on with a little more force than was necessary.

 


 

Johnny Seo was running on a Monster Energy, two coffees and determination to just get through the next hour. He’d spent the last forty eight hours working all day and night on his stupid term paper for Advertising 101 (and honestly, he didn’t see the need for a research paper in a class that everyone was just taking as a Communication elective), and now all he had to do was go to the classroom and turn it in. The paper probably could’ve used another once over, but Johnny had been staring blankly at his laptop for hours on end. If he had to revise it one more time he was going to end up throwing his laptop out the window to smack some unsuspecting freshman in the head.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Johnny thought, pulling his freshly printed paper off the tray and very carefully stapling it and placing it in a folder so it wouldn’t get wrinkled in his bag. ‘I’ll just go to class, turn the paper in, and then go back to my apartment and sleep until dinner.’

With that plan in mind, Johnny put the folder away in his bag and left the computer room to start the long walk across campus to his classroom. His university was fairly large, and had a good amount of greenery in it to liven up the area. Students were supposed to stick to the paved walkways, but that day Johnny just cut through the trees to ensure he would make it to the classroom on time.

Any other day Johnny would’ve appreciated the sun shining overhead through the branches, but at that moment he was already daydreaming about his bed waiting for him back at his apartment and the leftover two day old Chinese takeout in the fridge that he planned on having for dinner. He was so distracted, in fact, that Johnny didn’t notice that he was cutting through a ring of mushrooms, and found himself tripping on a rock halfway through the circle.

He flailed, unable to regain his balance, and landed heavily on his side, vision temporarily going dark. When his eyes refocused once more, Johnny saw the trees above him had suddenly seemed to grow much taller, their branches now towering over his head, and the forest around him much thicker than he recalled it being. In fact, he couldn’t see any of the college buildings anymore through the tree trunks.

Johnny quickly sat up looking for anything familiar, but all he could see was more trees and bushes. Panic started building in his gut as nothing looked like the familiar college campus. He struggled to his feet, clutching his bag strap tighter to him like it was a lifeline. Where was he? Surely a simple fall couldn’t disorient him that much?

When he spun to his right, his eyes widened in surprise. There was a boy standing there in weirdly out of place clothes that looked like something straight out of a Renaissance fair (did his university have a LARPing group?), complete with a stout, white horse that was looking a bit past its prime and laden with saddlebags.

The boy gave Johnny an unimpressed look. “Are you a hero?” he asked.

“What?” Johnny said, not quite sure how to respond to that, “I’m Johnny?”

“Johnny,” the boy repeated, as if testing out the name, before grimacing, “The bards are gonna have a hard time writing that into a ballad.”

Notes:

Ten, five drinks in and hunched over a prophecy at 2AM: What rhymes with overgrown?