Chapter Text
The walls of hell were not so cold as Kyungsoo thought they would be. Against his back the stone felt warm. Dare he say, alive. He knew that nothing in hell could truly have a beating heart — that everything that seemed to live had already long-passed its time — but the walls breathed. It was fascinating just as much as it was terrifying. Like the plants he used to care for back at home, it gave him the sense that he wasn’t alone. Except in this case, the thought was less than comforting.
Kyungsoo hugged his knees to his chest and leaned his head on his arms. The room he was in was excessively lavish, with ornate carpeting and gold-plated designs on the deep, red walls. Beside him, the bed was draped with expensive silk sheets and encased in a canopy adorned with a million tiny jewels. There was a fireplace in front of him that flickered every once in a while in different, odd colors, and on top of it, a few vases and a single statue of a dragon that, if you watched it for long enough, turned its head and let out a puff of smoke. The balcony was to his right, obscured by the bed. Kyungsoo hadn’t bothered to go out there. There was no point, given that its railing was enchanted with a barrier that kept him from leaving.
That’s right. He was a prisoner here. Even though he didn’t wear shackles, and he was fed well and taken care of by maids, even though he was given this room and enough clothes to cover an entire nation, even still, he was not allowed to leave, and so he was a prisoner. Kyungsoo wasn’t naïve. None of what he was given here was a gift so much as it was an order. Be compliant, or your stay here will be much more unpleasant. Not only that, but what was his wasn’t his at all. They all belonged to the king of hell. As did he.
By his foot laid his wreath, a sad thing against the dark colors of the carpet beneath him. He touched it with the tips of his fingers, pinching one of the leaves before gently transferring his essence to its body. A soft glow traced the veins until the entire thing was alight. When Kyungsoo drew his hand away, life had returned to the dying green.
This wreath had been a gift from his mother. I’m sorry, my son. My beautiful son. I wish I could give you more than this, but I didn’t want them taking my gift away.
Kyungsoo played with it for a bit before holding it up against the blue of the fireplace. It was a simple thing. There was no magic infused in it aside from the one he used to keep it alive, and it was nothing special aside from the fact that it was handmade by the queen of life herself. Still, Kyungsoo had kept it with him since the beginning. It was his final memory of home. He didn’t resent his family for sending him here. But he did miss them. He missed even more the freedom that he’d lost that had been replaced with this: a sullen landscape and unfamiliar faces, and nightmares that kept him up every single night.
A sharp knock to his left made him jump. Warily, Kyungsoo turned to the large, obsidian doors and watched them open.
“Your Highness, His Majesty calls for your presence.”
Kyungsoo stood obediently. He thought to bring his wreath, but decided against it, laying it on the nightstand beside the bed. He didn’t try to leave the room. The order to come, he knew, meant that he needed to be dolled up for presentation. As expected, a line of maids entered and immediately removed his clothes. They bathed him and dressed him, then neatened his appearance before relinquishing him to the guards who stood waiting by the door. Then they walked. The corridors of the palace were just as unwelcoming as his room. High ceilings gave way for paintings of people Kyungsoo didn’t recognize, as well as grotesque depictions of death. The floors were a Stygian red and the walls dark gray. Golden statues of demons guarded every turn. Most unsettling were the servants that milled about the hallways, who stared at him as he passed. He didn’t blame them. In every way, it was clear he didn’t belong here. Besides, he was the prince of life. An infamous prize given to the king of death.
By the time they stood at the king’s doors, Kyungsoo’s legs were aching. He hadn’t moved much since his arrival. Still, he didn’t dare rest. The anxiety that he’d ignored up until now buzzed in his hands, and he gripped the bottom of his sweater tightly to keep them from shaking. Not since the first day had he seen the king. In the seven days since the king’s official coronation, Kyungsoo had only seen him once: when he was being presented to him as life’s coronation gift. It had been terrifying. Kyungsoo could still remember his cold fingers under his chin, could still remember those piercing gray eyes staring into his own. He still remembered his voice. “So you’re the one they’ve given to be my plaything” before he was taken away from the welcoming hall, unable to even look at his parents for the last time.
Kyungsoo closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He would survive. He would survive, because he was the prince of life, and because he refused to let death be an option. All he had to do was be useful to the king. If he was useful, he was sparable.
The guard to his right rapped on the door twice. Then he opened the door and nodded at Kyungsoo to enter.
This room, Kyungsoo quickly realized, was the king’s bedroom. It had similar decorations to Kyungsoo’s room, but was larger and impossibly more extravagant. He was alone. Timidly, Kyungsoo stepped on the soft carpet and looked around. There was a bowl beside the bed with small, white capsules, as well as a gold cup. On the walls were a few paintings of skulls. The fireplace had a dragon like his, except this one was a dragon of bone that was considerably more animated. Its tail swished back and forth and it even tried to nip Kyungsoo when he attempted to touch it. Kyungsoo held his hand to his chest and moved on. There were paintings on the floor, leaning against the wall. One faced outward and the other inward to hide its art. The one that Kyungsoo could see was an oddly ill-fitting painting of a field of flowers on a sunny day. Even the frame looked like it didn’t belong — instead of a cold gold, it was a simple wood. The other one…
Kyungsoo knelt to see, but before he could look, a hand gripped his shoulder firmly.
Gasping, Kyungsoo turned. The instant he saw who it was, he dropped onto his hands and knees and stuttered, “Your Majesty, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. You were just gone, and I-”
“Get up.”
Kyungsoo shut his mouth immediately. Slowly, on shaking limbs, he stood. With his eyes lowered, he saw only the king’s chest, and the silk robe that brushed the floor. His heart pounded as his eyes followed the king moving past him to stand in front of the painting he tried to see.
“There’s no need to be afraid. You wanted to see this, right? It’s nothing important.” Suddenly, the king kicked the frame. Kyungsoo flinched as it clattered on the floor. “Look. What’s the matter?” and his voice turned frigid. “Look.”
Trembling, Kyungsoo did. It was a portrait. A few of the faces Kyungsoo could recognize, and it only took him a moment to realize what he was looking at. It was a royal portrait. A portrait of the king’s family… before he was king.
There were five people in the portrait. At least, that’s what Kyungsoo could tell from the little that he could see. The portrait was torn horrifically. It was as if an animal had gotten its way with it, leaving the thing in a state of disrepair. And in places Kyungsoo could make out spots of red. Was it blood?
“What are they saying about me?” the king asked, watching Kyungsoo. “You must have heard things before you came here.”
“N- nothing, Your Majesty.”
A strong grip took his jaw, forcing him to meet the king’s pale irises. “You haven’t been taught to lie,” the king observed offhandedly. “Try again.”
Kyungsoo’s heart pounded. Was he asking him to lie to him again? Or was this a test? “I don’t understand, Your Majesty.”
“You wanted to lie. I won’t stop you. But you’ll have to be more convincing than that.”
They stared at each other. “They said you killed everyone,” Kyungsoo said finally. His voice was small. “And that you took the throne out of spite.”
For a moment, all that Kyungsoo was aware of was his heart pounding in his ears. Then the king burst out laughing. He released Kyungsoo’s face, wiping at his eyes although there were no tears. “How interesting. I told you to lie, and you told the truth. Is that what they said? And did you believe it?”
“... No, Your Majesty.”
“You should.” The king sobered in a second. He faced his back to Kyungsoo and looked at the family portrait he’d kicked to the floor. Then he lifted his foot and stepped on it, right on the previous king’s face. “It’s the truth.”
Kyungsoo didn’t know what to say. He stood in silence, holding his breath.
“My father pleaded with me, you know.” Like this, Kyungsoo couldn’t see his expression, but his voice was chillingly callous. “I killed him right here. In this room.” The king grinded his shoe into the painting, growing more and more aggressive the more he spoke. “He told me he’d give me whatever I wanted. Money, a domain of my own. But I didn’t want that. I wanted the crown.” Finally, he stopped and turned around. His gaze dragged over Kyungsoo in a way that made him shiver. He stepped closer. “When I told him that, he called me crazy. Crazy. Can you believe that? A father, calling his own son a lunatic.” The king sneered. Kyungsoo’s back hit the edge of the fireplace. Unknowingly, he’d backed away. “I was going to do it anyway, but that sealed the deal for me. I killed him. Everyone. Even my poor, poor mother.” Kyungsoo flinched when he placed his hand on his cheek, stroking his face. “What do you think? It’s okay, you can call me a monster. I won’t be hurt.”
Kyungsoo shook his head.
“You care about your mother, don’t you? I saw her crying when you left.”
At the mention of his mother, Kyungsoo tensed. The king’s eyes flashed with amusement.
“I killed mine. I gutted her like an animal. She was crying when I did it. Pleading with me. But I didn’t care. I killed her just like I killed the rest of them. Aren’t I a monster? Come on, say it. Tell me I’m a monster.”
Neither of them moved for a moment. Then, voice shaking, tears welling in his eyes, Kyungsoo whispered, “Monster.”
The king’s hand moved from his cheek downward, until it rested comfortably at Kyungsoo’s neck. Rather than squeezing, he leaned in so that their lips were nearly touching. “That’s right,” he purred. “My pretty little gift. Let me tell you a secret. Those people in the portrait? None of them are me.” Tightening his grip just enough to make Kyungsoo’s breathing shallow, he said, “The queen wasn’t my mother. No one knew my name. Do you want to know my name?”
Kyungsoo couldn’t speak. He gasped in a breath and nodded his head instead.
“Baekhyun," the king said. "My name is Baekhyun."