Chapter Text
On one of the coldest nights of the year, the winter deities had blessed the prestigious Eom family with an heir. A boy with pale snow skin, rosy lips and eyes the color of ice. But there was something else- the child was frail, too frail. Like he'd perish before the morning came. The most esteemed healers were summoned at once, as they tried their best. However, none could figure out his condition.
So the child's mother had prayed to all the gods hoping for her boy to live through the night. Her desperate prayers were answered and the child lived to see the light of day.
Once the sun came out, he was immediately handed over to the priests to preordain his fate.
Seonghyeon was born under the weight of a prophecy that would shake the very foundation of the clan. It was the day the leaders had decided he was to be monitored closely.
Ever since then, the boy grew up in a gilded cage, a leash around his neck, silences biting into his skin. His survival became intertwined with appearances. He never dared to take a breath longer than necessary and became a ghost striding through the uptight halls.
Every minute of his life had been suffocating yet he upheld his kind smile and gentle demeanour. Every move of his was dictated by the leaders and orders spoken coldly but he never complained. Public appearances were forbidden to him and like a bird with its wings clipped off, he was trapped. The rumours always circulated about him: how his presence was like a long-lasting winter and how he'd been cursed with an eternal cold.
He'd been attended by servants carefully, like he was something dangerous and tainted. The other members of his family looked down on him- with disgust, fear, even envy.
Seonghyeon stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the Eoms, who were all nobles dripping gold, with their heavy swords and powerful sigil. A name feared amongst the city of Hermis, with tales of their conquests renowned. On the other hand, he was not suited to battle at all because of his condition, as carrying a sword put too much physical strain on him.
Instead, while the other children were out training, he was cooped up inside, going through his daily tutoring sessions.
The only outings allowed to him were the weekly church visits. The head priest always kept a soft spot for him, accompanying him around and occasionally cracking a joke or two.
Though in the luxurious marbles and vain riches, his only source of comfort was his mother. A caring and loving woman, who never demanded anything from life. But fate had a cruel sense of humour and she'd been ill for ages. It was slow and agonising and every day Seonghyeon prayed to god to ease her pain.
She passed away when he was only fourteen, leaving him all alone surrounded by vicious wolves waiting to pounce on him. The moment she left his life turned upside down. Because now the clan had more power over his existence.
In meetings, Seonghyeon was expected to only obey- never to speak up. By now even his weekly church visits were limited to once a month. Slowly he was crumbling from the inside, the loneliness eating away at him. Servants were ordered to maintain their distance.
And then the final nail had struck him when the clan elders had decided on his marriage when he'd just turned seventeen with none other than Eom Yeonsik.
Eom Yeonsik was one of his older cousins and Seonghyeon couldn't stand him one bit. His presence was infuriating as he was too arrogant and prideful, boasting every chance he got about his accomplishments namely- looking down on the common civilians and slaughtering innocents in conquests.
Not to mention that the man just never wanted to be denied anything. During clan meetings, he'd sit next to Seonghyeon who gave a half hearted, uncomfortable smile and after meetings he'd follow him.
Naturally Seonghyeon wanted to get away from him as far as possible, but Yeonsik had other plans. He'd eye him up and down and it made his own skin crawl. Yeonsik would impose himself on him and it made him want to throw up. He didn't want his life tied to the other like that. And so he had no other choice.
…
The slums are hustling and bustling as usual, with people scattered like moths on the streets. Beggars lined up for a penny, with dirt splayed across their clothes and the scent of desperation clinging to their rags. Small merchants, with their items laid out in even smaller stands. Children footless running around to enjoy some semblance of fun.
Keonho is taking his daily stroll- scouting potential targets to steal from in broad daylight. But this was the slums and no one would do anything about it because it is common practice to cut pockets for a living. Not that anyone could catch him anyways.
Because when you've been doing it since the age of eleven, at one point you're bound to master the art of stealth.
Spotting a stranger in the distance, Keonho decides to reach for her pouch. As he makes his way hurriedly, he bumps into someone.
The lady is already gone by now, as Keonho is annoyed. He turns to look at the person he accidentally crashed into.
The stranger stumbles and before he can think about it, Keonho's hands move on their own accord. He grabs the other's arm and steadies him, providing support.
The figure's shawl slips to reveal a boy around his own age. His complexion is pale, like the moon on a full night and his eyes are like a fox’s and a striking icy blue. His cheekbones are soft and round carved like a snow doll. He's dressed in shimmery robes. Ones that Keonho has seen dancers from the red town district's entertainment houses wear.
Keonho is momentarily stunned by the boy's looks, finding the right words to address him. But before he can get in a word, the other speaks up.
“Oh my apologies!”, he blurts out.
Still entrapped in his mind, he quickly shakes his thoughts away.
The boy gives a small apologetic bow and raises his head, awaiting for an answer. Taken aback by his genuineness it takes Keonho a moment to respond.
“I-its okay”, he answers.
The hell. He never stutters. Ahn Keonho never stutters.
The boy however blinks observing him closely as if Keonho is someone straight out of a legend. It makes the annoyance in him flare yet he keeps his mouth shut.
His outer appearance makes it clear that the other is a common slum dancer. But miniscule details about him contradict this fact. Like how the boy's posture is elegant and graceful, that stands out in a place like the slums. And how his cloak is made of fine silk with intricate embroidery, which is certainly not in common possession of someone from around. And not the expensive looking bracelet with fine craftsmanship; details too precise for a commoner.
“Are you from around here?”
Keonho observes the other's reaction closely, who suddenly looks flustered.
“Huh? Wh-what do you mean?”, he says confused.
Finding his cue, he leans in near the boy's ear and whispers, “you don't look from around here do you? Not with that finely embroidered cloak nor the bracelet adorned on your wrist?”
It clearly invokes a reaction from the other who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.
“Wh-what do you want?”, the boy asks nervously and his eyes betray a hint of the fear he feels.
Keonho chuckles.
“Relax, I'm just pointing out the obvious. You don't seem like you belong here. You look like you were made for silk beds and exquisite courts.”
The comment makes the boy stiffen slightly. He's lean and his frame is smaller than Keonho's own. His suspicions are now confirmed as the boy is definitely somewhat noble with his dialect and mannerisms. The words that spilled out of him were delicately pronounced- each syllable spoken perfectly, while his own speech is mostly slurred and grunted.
“That's not true”, the boy mumbles. “I'm actually heading back from work.”
Raising a brow, Keonho is almost amused at the boy's insistence. So he changes his approach instead.
“Well then, let me drop you home”, he offers.
The boy looks up with wide eyes and he has to bite back a grin that threatens to play on his lips.
“No, there's no need”, he says almost too quickly.
By now, Keonho is just messing with him for fun. “Why not? I know every crook and corner of this place. We'll be at your place in no time.”
Finally, the smaller sighs.
“I- I don't have a place to return to”, he admits somewhat embarrassed.
Keonho doesn't berate him. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair.
“I can't believe it. I suggest you tag along, snowflake. The others here aren't as generous as me.”
Saying that, Keonho walks ahead making sure the other follows behind him. They move through the streets and to not attract any unwanted attention, he leads through the back alleys. Once they arrive at the place, Keonho turns to him with his hands in his pockets.
“We're here”, and he takes the boy inside the hideout.
…
Seonghyeon stares in awe at the hideout. It is a place of ruins mostly, yet he looks like he's seen one of the noble houses around Hermis city. Though what lays in front is an abandoned floor of one of the entertainment pubs in the slums. The walls are chipped and worn out, the wooden floor is dusty and creaking with every step. It is a stark contrast to the lavish halls and marble statues in his clan estate, almost like a different world itself.
There are no windows but rather a small balcony from where there is a view of the outside town. Seonghyeon looks around observing the signs of inhabitation by the other boy. There were some belongings set aside on an old shelf, its handles rusting. At one corner, a mattress was set with a bunch of thin blankets.
Seonghyeon tenses as he hears the heavy footsteps behind him.
“It's not much, but at least it's something”, the other declares, shrugging.
He nods before letting his gaze trail over the stranger. He's dressed in a simple leather outfit with leather straps adjusted carefully around his frame and matching worn out leather shoes. The robes were simple and plain, a dark shade of brown.
The boy looks to be Seonghyeon's age, yet he's rough and outgoing around the edges, his posture confident, and his eyes seem to burn with a passionate fire. His build is definitely noticeable, with broad shoulders and defined arms unlike his own fragile figure.
Seonghyeon's own robes are made from the finest silk in town, a light blue color with detailed embroidery patterns incorporated in it. It makes him self-conscious, highlighting his status as nobility. He fiddles with the hem of his sleeve subconsciously.
“Stop doing that”, the other's voice comes out and his hands drop immediately.
The taller boy turns to face him and takes a few steps forward. Seonghyeon stays rooted to his place even though his shoulders drop slightly.
“So snowflake, tell me why did you decide to wander out the slums like an ignorant child?”he asks, voice a smooth baritone.
Seonghyeon struggles to find a suitable answer. His mind is conflicted whether he should give the truth or not.
“I wasn't wandering around”, he says quickly and sees the stranger pick up on it.
The other lets out a sound of disbelief.
“Really? Well snowflake bad news but you can't fool me. I can sense you aren't from around here. You look quite… delicate”, Keonho drawls.
Somehow the condescending tone makes Seonghyeon almost roll his eyes in disbelief yet he holds back. Courtesy of growing up in a controlled environment.
“I assure you I'm not. I was heading back from work”, he explains, lips twitching into a forced smile.
Keonho shakes his head and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.
“Look here snowflake, this isn't the time for games. You're lucky I found you first. These streets will swallow you whole and spit you out totally unrecognizable. There are men out there who would slit your pretty throat just to take off those bracelets strapped on your wrist”, he says with a solemn face.
Seonghyeon gulps imagining the horrors. Sure, he'd escaped hell but this boy is right, he's on the brink of walking into another. Or maybe he already has. He understands the gravity of the situation but he can't walk back now. Because just thinking about the way he'd be welcomed into the clan makes his insides churn.
“I-I can't go back”, he says in a small voice. The air instantly changes as the other doesn't push forward instead sighing.
“I don't know what or who you're running from, but I can assure you there's nothing worse than-”, but he is interrupted.
“There is”, Seonghyeon says with a calm that makes him freeze.
A beat passes and neither of them says anything.
Then-
“Fine. You can stay here”, the stranger offers.
The words take the winter kissed boy with surprise before his lips fall into a soft smile like the falling of the first snow.
“Thank you um..”
“Keonho.”
“Thank you Keonho. Oh and I'm Seonghyeon”, he adds in an effort to make an introduction.
Keonho rolls his eyes.
“Isn't it a bit too long?” He says feigning annoyance.
“It is certainly not”, Seonghyeon blurts, offended.
The taller one just shakes his head.
“Whatever, I'll just call you snow.”
And on a night longer than most, the universe is already in play as things begin to shift and fate takes on a different turn, to fulfill a certain prophecy written in the stars.
…
The slums of Hermis city are usually quiet during the day. Most of the business thrives at night so that explains the empty streets in the morning. It's one thing about it Keonho hates, since he prefers to be out at the slightest sign of the sun.
Usually, he wakes early and stays inside his humble shelter, sometimes accompanied with a cup of morning tea on rare occasions. Though right now, there is another figure curled up in a corner, inside the shreds of a blanket.
Keonho watches the sleeping figure intensely, eyes tracing the curve of his lips, the way his chest arises with each breath, his pale skin. Something about the boy almost feels unreal, like he's a creature of myth and magic from one of those children's tales.
Not to mention, Seonghyeon is all skin and bones. Even thinner than himself; almost as if he's suffering from some sort of illness. He also catches sight of carefully hidden bruises along the boy's wrist and feet.
Keonho sighs, shaking his thoughts away.
He'd never been one to meddle in others affairs, however much attention they required. And it certainly isn't going to change now.
By noon, Seonghyeon awakens from his deep slumber, only to find Keonho already going about the day. He apologizes for resting too long which is followed by a raised brow from Keonho who certainly thinks that is odd behaviour for someone like Seonghyeon.
The rest of their time is spent in silence and eventually Seonghyeon's curiosity gets the better of him.
“Why is your finger crooked?”he asks, brimming with curiosity Keonho couldn't help but sate.
“I broke it”, he answers vaguely and Seonghyeon finds himself nodding along.
There is a tension in the air that lingers, when two unfamiliar people are held across from each other. Keonho notices that the fox eyed boy is nervous, clutching to his robes, fingers drumming against his knees and almost hesitant.
For some reason, it bothers him that the other probably is not as comfortable in his company.
“Why are you here in the slums? Pretending to be a dancer just for the sake of fun? Or is there something else you're hiding?”, he asks, visibly expecting an answer from Seonghyeon.
The question is voiced after careful consideration of Seonghyeon's situation. Because somehow Keonho cannot fathom why a noble that probably enjoys all the luxuries offered to him by the city, would want to abandon it for a worthless life in a place as undesirable as the slums.
He observes carefully- hoping for a sign or tell visible from the other. But all he gets in return is a thoughtful expression wrapped in a sheath of silence.
Seonghyeon doesn't meet his gaze. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the cracked floor. Before he can answer, Keonho interrupts him.
“Whatever, just forget it snow. You can keep your secrets for now. But I can't guarantee they'll stay hidden forever”, he mumbles.
That makes Seonghyeon freeze before his lips fall into a small twitch- the faintest hint of a smile. Yet those icy blue eyes say it all. And Keonho, who has never once read gazes, wholeheartedly learns this one; a lesson carved into memory.
…
By the time the sun disappears and the moon rises, the slums are in a rush; all sorts of people heading to the red town district. An entertainment district where livelihood differs from dancers, mistresses, and servants, or business thrives in all forms such as trafficking, thievery, even sorcery. Then after all, where there is a penny to be made, all sorts of trickery inevitably follows.
The reputation of the place is well earned after all it's the area which never sleeps. The night hid the district's secrets- wrapped in silk and lies, all the more reason for men to head out.
Seonghyeon slips on his cloak, a futile attempt to hide his clothes beneath. The red gown underneath, would be noticed by anyone who looked too carefully. For now, this is sufficient, he supposes.
Lining his eyes with a black eyeliner and smoothing over some cheap powder over his features, he observes his reflection in the small pocket mirror embellished with fancy ornaments and tucks it in his pouch.
Pulling the cloak over his head, he's about to head out before a voice calls him out from behind.
“You're already heading out snow?”Keonho questions, arms crossed in front and a brow raised.
Seonghyeon turns behind, still adjusting the hood and nods politely. He feels Keonho's gaze focused on him, cutting through like a blade.
Slowly lifting his own blue orbs, he meets the other's eyes. He can see how Keonho dissects him with amusement and a hint of something else, he can't quite decipher.
“You're quite dressed for the occasion”, he blurts out uncontrolled, and Seonghyeon almost sees a flicker of something burning in his eyes.
“It's a standard requirement. Anyways, I better get going…”, he mutters, stuffing his feet into the pair of brown sandals. By now, they were worn out and dirty yet he had to make do because his pouch is considerably less heavier than when he first left the estate.
But before he can leave, Keonho sighs from the other side.
“Wait, I'll take you there.”
Seonghyeon is slightly taken aback at the offer. The taller one is escorting him. Noticing the question he holds, Keonho quickly explains.
“You're going to the red district right, I'm heading there too. And it'll be safer this way”, he says shrugging off the wall.
He steps out first and Seonghyeon follows close behind.
It is true that he certainly feels more assured with the other by his side. Wait, what? The irony hits him that he considers himself more protected with a stranger than he'd ever felt around his own family.
Though he's certain Keonho isn't going to hurt him.
It's an indescribable feeling, yet Seonghyeon can sense that his soul is more at peace and rest with the stranger. Adjusting the ornament in between the strands of his hair, he smiles discreetly to himself.
On their way, Keonho repeatedly looks over his shoulder to see if Seonghyeon is following along. Soon enough, they reach the red district. The streets are filled with courtesans, dressed in flattering robes and faces dabbed with enough powder and paint to last for a lifetime. And then there were the men, with their rough hands and lustful gazes who pretended to be saints during the day and when night befell came in the town's notorious entertainment district.
Seonghyeon spots the house he works in and stops expectantly. He's not sure why, but the thought of Keonho seeing that place did not sit well with him.
“Um I'll head off to the place now”, he mutters nervously.
Keonho, who stands there with his hands in his pocket, notices the dancer's unease before turning away.
“Alright snow, but better be back before the sun rises”, he says and disappears down the crowd of people swarming the streets.
Seonghyeon double checks before quickly rattling his fist against the compound door of the house and when it opens, he enters inside.
…
The moonlight spills in through the balcony as Keonho sits on the dusty floor, resting an arm on his knee. His mind is still tangled with the thoughts of Seonghyeon.
He didn't understand why he is so drawn to the other. Was it because of his appearance? Or because he held secrets that Keonho couldn't help but be curious about.
Just then, the sound of the door creaking echoes as hesitantly Seonghyeon enters, his cloak drawn over. Keonho is somewhat relieved to see the smaller boy. His eyes scan over the other's figure taking in anything out of the ordinary.
Seonghyeon walks over, careful not to let out any noise and settles on the floor beside him. His cloak wears off and drops down to his shoulders. Keonho finds the action slightly unsettling. For some reason, the way the moonlight illuminates the other's pale skin makes him uneasy.
However, the shorter boy catches him staring and tilts his head in confusion, expecting an answer. Snapping out of it, he averts his gaze hurriedly. Keonho's fingers find the inside of his robes and pull out a cloth. He holds it out to Seonghyeon reluctantly.
“Here, it's meatballs”, he says with a matter of fact tone.
Perplexed, the fox eyed boy looks at the cloth bundled in Keonho's fist. His hand is larger than Seonghyeon's, whose eyes light up and he accepts the meatballs.
His soft fingers work diligently, untying the knot carefully and placing the cloth on his lap like a napkin and then taking a small bite. His lips curve into a satisfied smile. He finishes the meatballs before turning to the taller.
“They were surely delectable”, Seonghyeon says gently.
Keonho perks up at the compliment.
“Well of course, I bought them from the most notable place in town. You must've tried them once even as a noble”, he explains, stretching out his arms. He doesn't mention the effort he made to steal enough money for a decent meal. Some part of him is hesitant to share his deeds with the other, who looks like he barely knows this world.
At his comment, Seonghyeon shakes his head sullenly. It piques his interest.
Straightening, he looks up at the blue eyed boy.
“What? Don't tell me you've never had meatballs from the Tochin house?”, to which he earns another shake of the head. Keonho's eyes widen in surprise.
“Actually, I haven't been to that part of town before”, Seonghyeon explains quietly. There's a melancholy to his tone, Keonho can't quite place.
His response makes him wonder what kind of sheltered life Seonghyeon must have lived before to not even go around town. It certainly explains why the other always seems so lost in the surroundings, taking in things with a newfound interest because the snow-kissed boy had never seen it before.
Before he can think it through, his mind conjures up a solution.
“Tell you what, we should take a stroll tomorrow, make sure you get an idea of the places in town”, he offers, awaiting the dancer's response.
A flicker of surprise follows Seonghyeon's eyes before his expression quickly shifts to contentment.
“Well I suppose I shouldn't risk disappointing you”, he answers calmly.