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Like Wind In A Meadow

Summary:

Stumbling upon and falling in love with an Elf-king's son while on his quest to pay his betrothed's bride price, Mark, a mere mortal Man, throws caution to the wind and embarks on a perilous journey to win said Elf's hand and navigate the dark forces pressing in on both the world of Man and Elf.

Notes:

Hey, so this is the fairy romance and melting pot of lore that we got at home...

Slight WARNING/NOTES:
In case of discomfort: Taeyong/Ten/Winwin are referred to as 'Mother', if that is not up your alley, I 100% understand.

If the dialogue and things read annoying, I'm really sorry, it's such a mishmash, but I tried to just stay with language I was comfortable using and that was easy to understand. I watched The VVitch. I know what it's like to be getting my ass kicked by dialogue I was not understanding so lmk if it's doing too much.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Beginnings

Chapter Text

The boy was the first Elf Mark had ever seen.

Had he had time to, Mark would have questioned his smaller stature and sun kissed skin, that was so unlike the elves he’d read about. As it was though, Mark was enraptured by the dancing boy in the meadow below him. So captivating was he, that Mark had even overlooked investigating one of the most obvious things his mind was screaming at him to notice: the music.

Reed pipes, or a lute - Mark wasn't sure, having never taken to instruments as he did to poetry and writing - filled the area, the melody from the instrument seeming to float around the boy, an invisible partner in the graceful, flowing dance he was doing. He’s not sure when he inched closer, or when he left the safety of the large tree behind, but Mark finds himself closer to the Elf than he’d ever dreamed possible. Being sent out to search for their lost king amongst the Elves all but guaranteed that he’d face them one day, but up to now the creatures of the forest had been elusive. All except this one.

The boy continued his dance, their eyes locking for a brief moment when he breezes past him. Mark holds his breath, expecting him to run off, but he continues his dance, the hem of his blue dress sending autumn leaves flying into the air with every twirl and leap. One such leaf dances on the wind all the way to Mark's feet. For a long moment he stares down at it, stupidly admiring the shimmering bits on it that must have lifted off of the boy’s dress. In that single moment of distraction, one of the boy's companions spots Mark.

The other Elf makes a strange noise, and Mark and the boy’s heads shoot up. Further away, beyond the knee-length grasses they found themselves in, a whole group of Elflings sat. It had been the fair haired one that had seen him first, his eyes alert and face frozen in fear even now. The entire group turns to Mark, the dancing boy frozen in his spot not far from him. Mark recognizes the command to run, and in the second it takes Mark to blink, they’re all gone, save for the dancer that had bewitched him.

Mark’s eyes track the blue of his gown as he makes for the trees, and then the faint shimmer of his adornments that settle on everything he passes like sugar on holiday treats. Belatedly he realizes he should be following him.

It takes a few more moments for his brain and legs to catch up with each other and come to an agreement, but then he’s taking off as fast as he can behind them, shouting after the boy to wait. Mark reaches the tree line and scales up the hillside, eyes scanning here and there over the meadow that lay beyond, but no trace is left behind that the elves had been there. Even the traces the boy’s gown had left had disappeared on the evening wind.

Mark spends the rest of the night combing through the surrounding flowers and underbrush bordering the meadow in the hope of finding tracks. No such luck befalls him.

Tired, and annoyed at himself for being so hooked on the dancing boy that he’d missed his chance to speak to the Elves, he returns back to the tree he’d left his belongings in and goes about finding a spot to rest his eyes for a few hours. Now that he's seen them, he feels more confident than ever about finishing his quest.

Unbeknownst to Mark, he had come close to encountering that same group of elves more than once throughout his search for them. In a tree above the carpet of catsear he’d been searching, Jaemin - the instrumentalist - had been hidden, concealed from sight only by the barest of leaves still stubbornly clinging to their branches. Renjun had been laying amongst clovers as Mark brushed through them, Chenle pressed tightly to his side, neither daring to breathe when the Man had come close enough to brush against their legs in his search. And that dancer Mark had been so enraptured with had been closest of all.

Donghyuck, inquisitive by nature, had ditched his gown and all his shiny adornments and followed the stranger - the Man - on foot, much to the chagrin of his companions. Renjun had tried to subtly signal him to a hiding place, but Donghyuck had ignored him in favor of seeing the Man up close. He’d performed a quick spell to soften his steps, using what he had available around him, and then left his friends behind when the Man had turned back, following quietly behind him. Donghyuck walked normally, but due to the elementary spell he’d learned years ago, his movement appeared as nothing but the rustle of the wind in the trees to the Man’s ears, who knew nothing of their magics.

Donghyuck watched him retrieve his pack and then followed him further into the forest, to a cave carved into the side of one of the surrounding mountains. When he was well asleep and hidden behind the cover of the foliage that grew along the cave’s mouth, Donghyuck crept forward again, intrigued by this creature that was so like himself, but lacking considerably.

He’d never crossed into the realms of Men or seen any one of them besides his father, who to Donghyuck’s eyes didn’t look or develop any differently from the Elves around him, so perhaps that didn’t count. Donghyuck’s father didn’t grow old as men were supposed to, nor was he dwarfed by the elves around him, so this Man was definitely different.

The Elf wondered if all Men looked like him, if this would be what his father's true form was without the Valar’s blessing and his mother’s magics. The man wore his hair short, unlike elvish fashion, and traveled light. His pack contained no more than two extra sets of clothes, as plain as the ones he was currently wearing, a few strange slabs of… something, and a few other small trinkets Donghyuck could not identify. Curious, he’d smelled the dark slab and then thinking it safe, licked it, but had found himself violently recoiling from it, unhappy with the salty taste.

His curiosity with the Man’s things was satisfied after that experience, and he instead turned back to his initial object of interest. The Man had remained asleep while he meddled with his things, and even now as Donghyuck stretched out beside him on his bedroll. Watching him and taking his time tracing the lines of his face, Donghyuck felt his own eyelids get heavy, and would have fallen asleep had Renjun not found them and made a scene.

“Donghyuck! What awful thing are you doing now? We have to leave, immediately,” Renjun cried out, not nearly as quiet as he thought he was being.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, still facing the Man. Renjun wasn’t that scary, and if he wanted to spend his time here, he very well could. “Why? This is my parents' wood, am I forbidden from being here? From going where I please?” Renjun's reddening face is all Donghyuck needs to know his childish response is well and truly getting under the other Elf's skin.

"Wish that you were, we’d get into less trouble,” Renjun grumbles, hand reaching out to encircle Donghyuck’s ankle. He’d pull him out if he has to - and Donghyuck knew better than to doubt that. “Your father will have that creature’s head if he found you two like this. Do you wish to dishonor yourself in front of everyone?”

Donghyuck groans in annoyance. This, again. He doesn’t realize how loud he’s being though, and freezes up when the Man’s eyes shoot open. The identical looks he and Renjun are sporting would have made Donghyuck laugh in any other moment. Without waiting for anyone else to make the first move (fearing both that the Man may hurt them, and that Donghyuck may do something stupid), Renjun yanks Donghyuck towards him and claps. The sound echoes in the cave and the Man falls back with a loud thud, body awkwardly lying half-off his sleep mat. Through his panic the spell must have been strengthened, because even Donghyuck's head lolls forward as he herds him out of the cave.

***

He remembers shuffling out of the cave, Renjun's tiny self half-dragging him, but it all gets hazy from there.

He wakes up several hours later in his own bed, his eyes heavy with sleep. His mother sits beside his bed, humming a familiar tune under his breath, which meant he wasn't angry, but his very presence spelled bad things for Donghyuck. The younger Elf keeps his eyes closed, hoping that he could tire his mother out by stalling.

”I know you’re awake, Hyuck-ah.” Donghyuck curses in his mind. He remains still, hoping to keep up the pretense for as long as he can. His instinct for being able to tell when he's in trouble has never failed him before, and this time doesn't seem any different. “Care to tell me why Renjun put you under a spell? Or why you showed up here dirty and reeking like you’d been rolling around in the mud for weeks?”

Donghyuck remains quiet, but cracks an eye open to assess the situation better. His mother’s voice never betrayed his feelings, but Donghyuck has gotten really good at reading his face over the years. Everyone had tells, and Taeyong's were always in his eyes.

His large, round eyes are trained down on the sweet potato he's peeling, ever soft, and Donghyuck can't tell if it's because of him or his mother's favorite treat.

Taeyong pinches his thigh, tired of him wasting time. “Have I borrowed your favorite thing and not returned it? Did we lie with each other last night?”

”Hm?” Donghyuck can’t say he’s following the conversation. Even if he hadn’t just woken up, he doubts he’d understand his mother’s strange sayings. They were from very different times.

”What have I done to be ignored? Are you so afraid of punishment you can't even acknowledge me?”

”Perhaps. Will you confine me to my rooms if I'm truthful? Make me write lines like I’m of an age with Jisung?”

Taeyong lets out a sharp laugh, reminiscent of the improper sounds Donghyuck’s tutors have been trying to train out of him for years. “Is what you’ve done so bad? And don’t try it, I’ve long since realised you enjoy your rooms far too much for it to be a worthy punishment.”

”I don’t think it’s that bad, though Renjun might say differently.”

”Certainly, why else would he put you under a sleeping spell?”

Donghyuck takes a deep breath and decides that if anyone can understand his curiosity, it's his mother. “I saw a Man.”

”A man? There are many men here, what makes this one so special?” Taeyong asks, bringing the sweet potato to his lips.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, but opens his mouth to take a bite. To anyone else, the action would have seemed disrespectful, but this was just the type of relationship he shared with his mother. “Not an ordinary man, a Man.

”And where did you see this man?” Taeyong asks, amusement evident in his voice as he draws his hand back and consumes the rest of the sweet potato.

”Mother!" Donghyuck huffs out, pushing himself to sit up. "I’m not telling tales, ask Renjun, he'll tell you.”

”I know, Sweetheart” Taeyong says. Donghyuck watches him wipe his hands off on his robes before they come up to pat his hair down.

“So Renjun has already told you? Why would you act as if I was losing my wits then?”

Taeyong’s lips remain curled in amusement. “Not Renjun, no. You carry his scent - which means you must have been close,” Taeyong looks up at him from under his bangs, drops his head again to fiddle with Donghyuck's blanket, “and I had a dream. A moon cycle has passed since it happened, but I still remember it as if it was moments ago.”

To Donghyuck’s credit, he doesn’t blush at the mildly accusing tone. He sits forward, eager to hear what vision his mother’s dreams had brought him. Taeyong was blessed by the Valar, as close to a Maia as any Elf could come without being birthed or sired by one. “And?”

“And... I still haven’t decided how much of it I’ll share with you. Fate does this funny thing of working out anyway even without us having any foresight.”

“Seriously? Why bring it up then?” Donghyuck whines.

“Slip of the tongue,” Taeyong teases, leaning their foreheads against each other. Donghyuck remains quiet and carefully still as his mother searches his face as he is wont to do. Like his mother, Donghyuck has his own tells, but they're not in his eyes.

By the time Donghyuck is wringing his hands in his sleep shirt, Taeyong pulls away, satisfied with his inspection.“Will you be careful? I don't know where your way goes but the world is becoming dark again, and I cannot curb what fate has laid out for you.”

“You would ask that of me? Honestly, are you sure you're my mother?” The little laugh he gets out of his mother is enough for Donghyuck to relax back into his pillows. He didn't like when things became so grave and serious, but he stomachs it when his mother warns him and demands his obedience again.

Before he leaves his room, his mother stops at the door. Donghyuck quirks an eyebrow at the pale finger pointing at him. “Just because I won't confine you to your rooms doesn't mean you're not going to be punished. Doyoung needs help this afternoon, and you're expected to be there. Your father will be made aware of this punishement, and if you want me to keep quiet about everything else, I suggest you not be a minute late.”

Donghyuck groans, but not too much. There were worse things his mother could do to him, and besides, his unsaid promise to keep quiet about the Man and his demand that Donghyuck be cautious was as much permission to do what he wanted as Donghyuck was ever going to get.

***

Donghyuck sneaks back into the Man’s camp the next day, and continues to do so every day thereafter. Sometimes he'd leave gifts, inconsequential trinkets that wouldn't seem to out of place like pretty stones and the growth of tea leaves, if only to see the Man's reactions. He moved his camp every few days, but Donghyuck always managed to find him no matter how deeply he went into the woods or how far he climbed up the mountain. Donghyuck still only visited him when he was asleep, content to quietly observe him from afar when he wasn’t. The few times he walked his dreams with him, Donghyuck had clung to the edges, fascinated with the illusions his mind came up with.

More than once the Man returns to the meadow he’d watched Donghyuck dance in, and every time Donghyuck remains hidden, watching him. Some nights he just sits down and waits, and other nights he searches the area, intent on finding some trace of the Elves he was certain couldn't have gone far.
Jaemin catches him one night while scouting, but true to his relaxed nature, he simply sat down beside Donghyuck, observing the Man expelling his energy on uselessly scouting the area.

It is he who Donghyuck blames for Chenle and Jisung's new game. The two had taken to leaving tracks in the meadow to lead the Man on a hopeless chase he had no chance of winning. Other days they would make use of the hiding spells they'd been learning, stealing the essence of plants and trees to lure and hide from him when he catches up to them. Donghyuck puts his foot down when Jaemin thinks to join them, threatening each of them with a secret. After that, he's left to his watching again, although the absence of Chenle and Jisung's games makes the days significantly more boring.

Feeling sorry for his hopeless search, but not wanting to be the one to betray the location of his parents kingdom, Donghyuck sings to him while he sleeps and charms the lands he spends most of his time around. If Mark notices more game in the area and less predators to fend off, he doesn’t think much of it, except that maybe he was drawing closer to the Elf kingdom.

But every day and every night he goes off searching, he can’t find traces of anyone else being around, except himself. He’d nearly driven himself mad those first weeks, following tracks in circles only to come to the realization that it was he himself making them. Mark tries not to be too hard on himself though, he wasn’t a tracker, had barely hunted on his own before he’d been assigned this quest. Mark had no idea that being offered the hand of a princess would have led him to this impossible road. Still, he would do his best, would sleep on the hard ground for a million more nights if it meant his family would be taken care of.

Despite his mostly unsuccessful search, Mark finds excitement in his dreams. Every time he closed his eyes, the beautiful Elf boy danced across his lids, beckoning Mark into a dance he’d never be graceful enough to perform. Real Mark would no doubt have stepped his toes off, but Dream Mark kept up with him like they'd been dancing together for ages. He’d never learned any Elven tongue, but somehow he knew without a doubt that the songs that accompanied their frolicking were in some Elvish dialect.

Time passed, seasons changed, and Mark remained where he was, no closer to completing his mission than he had been at the start of it. He had wanted to pack up and return home several times over the course of his assignment, wanted to return to his parents' little farm, to his mother’s arms and the light-hearted japes of his brother. His father would welcome him with open arms, Mark knows this, but he can’t stomach the thought of them going back to struggling. Drought had destroyed their crop, and before he left all the spring lambs had taken ill and died in a matter of weeks. As long as he stayed away, stayed on his path (no matter how futile), his family would be taken care of and remain in the king's favor. That much his betrothed had promised him, a favor for a favor.

His dreams continued, and Mark found comfort in that at least, albeit with much shame. Guilt sent him to his prayers more frequently - for the lust he felt for a boy he had seen once, and for the betrayal against his people and his betrothed. He may not have strong feelings for her, but the Mother always preached about faithfulness to one's promised. Besides that, the Elves of the woodlands had committed heinous acts against Men for ages, had kept them under their heels and out of their bountiful realms while they starved and were beset with famine and drought, and here Mark's very fantasies revolved around one of them.

That love had bloomed for the dream boy isn’t something Mark will admit to, especially not when he’d never felt this way about the woman he was supposed to be marrying.

***

“Where is Hyuck?” Johnny asks at breakfast, his hand trailing down his husband’s back. He smiles lovingly when Taeyong turns to him and presses a soft kiss to the crook of his elbow.

“Out.”

“Out?” Johnny quirks an eyebrow at Taeyong’s nonchalant answer. “I’m surprised you’re not fussing about him missing a meal.”

“Hyuck knows how to take care of himself, it’s Jisung I’m worried about.” Taeyong sighs dramatically.

Johnny laughs at that, chancing a glance across the table to where his youngest son is being hand fed fruits by Chenle, a visiting prince from a nearby kingdom. His parents had sent him along with Renjun to be wards of Johnny and Taeyong, believing that a more trusting alliance could be forged between their kingdoms by having the younger generation grow up to become friends. From where Johnny's sitting, their children bypassed that stage, even if they themselves have not realized it yet. That a betrothal would be on the table in the near future wasn't something Johnny doubted.

“I hope you’re not matchmaking in that head of yours again.”

“They’ve done all the work for me. Jisung will no doubt start officially courting Chenle before he returns home.”

“Marriage can wait. They’re young and have barely seen the world. Are you so eager to see our children leaving us?”

“Would they have to leave? With halls as big as ours, there’s plenty of space for more than a few generations of little Suhs to run around.”

Taeyong smiles into his cup, sipping at his spiced wine. If Johnny only knew that was precisely the gift his favorite child would bring him soon.

***

Donghyuck is caught by two guards before he can slip out of the caves and into the forest. They walk him to his father’s high hall and then sternly give him directions to meet with Doyoung for his lessons. The guards were unrivaled, and a few of them even legends from the first war against the Dark One, but where they always failed was in sending rookies to handle Donghyuck.

A pout here, a widening of his eyes there, and they all became pliant little dolls for him to play with. Donghyuck’s manipulations didn't speak to anybody’s weakness though, considering his own father still fell for them after all these years too.

The Elf boy obediently marches through the corridors, ensuring at least a few people see him. Just as he’s timing his escape out through one of the secret passageways behind a tapestry, a large hand wraps around his arm.

“Hyuck, where are you going? Doyoung is waiting for you in the library.”

Donghyuck turns his head, biting his tongue as his plan is thwarted. “Father,” Donghyuck says, voice level. “I was so lost in thought I didn’t see where I was going.”

”What is bothering you, my sweet? Tell me, let your father set your mind at ease.”

Donghyuck feels slightly guilty about exploiting his father’s trusting nature, but he presses on anyway. He hadn’t been able to go see the Man for three days now, and Donghyuck was feeling antsy for some reason. “I’ve been feeling so faint as of late, Father. I think it’s the stuffiness of the halls, all the hustle and bustle going on in preparation of the Qian’s visit. I haven't had any time to dance, to breath fresh air.”

Donghyuck knows he’s won by the specific look on his father's face. His eyes go wide and apologetic and his mouth turns down at the corners. “Have you been cooped up inside all this time? My poor babe. Come, I’ll have someone read-”

Donghyuck plants his heels into the carpet, his hand coming to rest over his father’s that is still encircled around his arms. “There’s no need, Father. I don’t want to keep anyone from their tasks, I’m sure you’re busy as well.”

“Not too busy to see to my son’s happiness,” Johnny stresses, drawing Donghyuck into one of his signature hugs. Few things made it more clear that his father didn’t grow up at court than his overly affectionate behavior in public.

Donghyuck snuggles into his father’s chest, tempted to remain home and sweet talk him into spending the day with him. He’s been so busy that Donghyuck rarely sees him unless he sleeps in his parents’ bedchambers, but that was partly his own fault. He hadn’t really been around much and shucked off his duties on his brothers every chance he got.

Donghyuck pulls out of the hug before guilt or something silly like longing can completely consume him, and pulls himself up by his father’s shoulders. He kisses him on the cheek, reassuring his father that he’ll be fine on his own and won’t return too late.

***

The calls and cries of the night creatures is as welcoming to Donghyuck as the soft earth beneath his feet and the cool wind snaking between the trees. He starts whistling along to the song of some bird, and unconsciously finds himself singing as he goes in search of his new favorite.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d told his father he missed dancing, but Donghyuck found himself more and more dispirited with it for some reason. Dancing in his father’s halls brought him praise, and so did his singing, especially when accompanied by Jaemin’s high harp or flute, but it was never anything he hadn’t heard before. Truthfully, Donghyuck was bored.

Admirers flocked to praise him, his friends and family always requested a song or dance from him, but Donghyuck didn’t feel appreciated. He loved the attention and the praise, but no two dances of his were the same, and he dedicated a lot of time to constantly perfecting his singing, so receiving the same standard praise was no longer cutting it for him. He needed something more. He needed the Man's eyes on him again. He'd been almost reverent watching Donghyuck dance that evening, that that look alone had inspired several dances of their own.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he hadn’t realised his feet had carried him to the river that ran from high up in the mountains. Confused, Donghyuck looks around, trying to sniff the air for what might have brought him here. And then he smells it: blood.

At first he jumps back behind a tree, careful to conceal himself. He had been in such a rush to leave that he hadn’t brought any weapons with him.

He remains hidden for a long while, but when he picks up no movement or scents, it gives him enough time to realize that the blood smells old. The cut was fresh at the time he shed it, yes, but the person or thing had bled here days ago.

Cautiously, he left his hiding spot, tracking the blood. By the riverbed, a great pool of blood had mixed in with the soil, and Donghyuck desperately wants to believe it was from some animal that had been hunted. He lived in reality however, and the smell of it undoubtedly belonged to the Man.

His heart lurches, and Donghyuck runs off in search of all the Man’s hidey-holes. He’s not in the great, hollowed out tree nearby, nor is he hunkered down in the shelter of wood he had made for himself during the Winter. Instead, Donghyuck finds him in his mountain cave, as far away from the river as any of his shelters were.

The Man was lying prone on his bedroll, now dirty with blood and soil, and was shivering despite the warm night air. He was paler than Donghyuck had ever seen him, and even in sleep his face was screwed up in pain.

When Donghyuck turns him over, the scraps of his shirt nearly fall apart, held together only by a few threads. Deep, bloody gashes run from his shoulder to his navel, and another set down the length of his thigh. It is in seeing the extent of his injuries that Donghyuck realizes he cannot heal him, not without his mother's help. The man had clearly been lying here for some time, infection taking root within his feeble body as wounds tried to heal themselves in vain. Leaving him behind was not an option.

Donghyuck half drags and carries him through the forest. When he gets to the bridge that spans the river that acts as a natural defense for the entrance to his parent's hidden kingdom, the Elf props the Man up against his side, now slightly conscious and groaning in pain. If he can just get to the side of the cave’s mouth undetected, he could take a passage into the castle and seek out his mother’s study.

It’s no easy feat with the heavier than expected mortal hanging onto his side, but Donghyuck makes it, only slightly worried about the blood the Man was dripping everywhere. Donghyuck fishes out flower from the many hidden pockets in his robe, and clutches it between his teeth while he speaks to the river and asks it to wash the blood and the scent away. It takes a promise to leave the frogs alone for the spirit to agree, and once Donghyuck sees the water creeping up the woo and stone, he turns back to the Man lying prone in the tunnel to drag him through the castle.

In his mother’s study, he lays him down in the corner bed, and ransacks his poultices and potions for something to tide the Man over until he can get his mother.

He puts together a healing potion - watered down considerably for fear that the human’s weaker being succumbs to the medicine rather than heals from it, - takes his head into his hands and tips the bottle back, guiding him to swallow down the tonic. The Man does so, groaning all the while, but he doesn’t become violent or resitant with Donghyuck even when his eyes open and seem to register his presence.

Donghyuck leaves him sleeping while he hurries off to find his mother, dressed in old work clothes of his after abandoning his bloody robes. Taeyong is in the eastern great hall directing the setup of a dais when Donghyuck grabs his arm and all but drags him away. Before he can get a word in he picks up the scent of blood on his son, and abandoning all other thought, follows him with hurried steps.

Relief floods him for all of two seconds when he registers that the blood does not belong to Donghyuck, but to the mortal haphazardly tossed onto his sick bed. He immediately springs into action, gasping when he sees the claw marks that had torn at his skin.

Taeyong had dreamed of two tigers clashing just days before, had even shared it with Johnny while they were in bed after he had awoken from it. While the one tiger was grievously injured and savaged by the other, it was still he who prevailed in the end and skinned the other, presenting his kill to a young pudu. Taeyong had not understood what it meant then, thinking some family or the other would be embroiled in a civil war over a mate, but it became clear to him that he’d been wrong. The Valar had not sent him a warning of war, but rather an announcement of blooming love. They had deemed his son and this mortal ready, and had sent the Man his first trial.

***

That the Man had some Valar rooting for him could not be denied; three days he sweated and shivered through a fever he’d already been suffering from for who knows how long, but he held on, almost willing himself to get better. Worried, Taeyong had even tried to forbid his son from the room several times, seeing the Man’s spirit wane and weaken as the hours stretched on. Death was certainly hovering close by, but his son would hear nothing of it.

Keeping their secret had become difficult as well, Taeyong having no excuse for skipping out on his duties, and Donghyuck permanently absent from meals and other gatherings. He’d even found himself crossing words with Johnny in front of several subjects, when Taeyong had once again attempted to steal away to his study in the middle of the day. Johnny had harshly accused him of being lax in his duties, and Taeyong had bristled at the treatment, days of sleeplessness weighing him down.

So here he was now, changing soiled bandages, a dying Man stinking up his study, an ignorant son hanging on to him in a very unhealthy way, and an angry husband breathing down his back every chance he got. To say Taeyong was worn thin was an understatement.

Hyuck’s voice fills the room as Taeyong starts cleaning up. He glances over to the pair to find the Man’s head in his son’s lap, the pained expression on his face being replaced by awe as he all but hangs off of Donghyuck’s lips.

Looking at them, Taeyong’s reminded of a different pair and a different time. He returns to his bedchamber, braids his hair back, dons his jewel crown and nothing else, and sends for his husband