A small writing blog dedicated to SKZ and my OC II ✨ certified moron ✨ II 23 II any pronouns II open the BIO for more info II zehina is my side/personal blog (might talk to you with that!)
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Requests: OPEN (but slow to write)
Number of requests in my askbox: 9
Feel free to say hi to me in my askbox regardless of the request status, I'm always open to chat about my fics or anything else!
My side/personal blog is @zehina so don't be alarmed if I interact with you with that blog, instead of this one! ^-^
Reader insert blog is @ihatedtoadmit, go there for more content if you'd like.
Haiiiii!!! Ik im on anon rn but idk if you guys even remember me lolz. I see that a lot of you guys are still in contact so it just made me miss you guys. It’s been literal years since I’ve interacted with any of you. I mis yall!!
-☹️
It is hard to remember someone who hides behind anonimity.
What's in the air that so many people from the past are returning suddenly?
idk why i js really like leaving stuff in your inbox on tumblr! so yes haha sometimes I'll leave you some stuff here. its fun 😼
i missed everything from april and may so i was talking abt that fic btw, i was kind of shocked at how i missed it and wasn't following you and whatnot but that's okay.
im looking forward to your upcoming works! no rush.
-your sunshine
I'll tell you a secret: I love hoarding cute messages like this in my inbox. I can look back at them easily like this, haha.
Also, I'm planning things and hopefully I'll be able to execute them soon enough! What am I planning? Well... Let's just say there's a reason I haven't posted a new Unfamiliarity chapter yet despite my activeness here.
I'm in my experimenting era, so I have a question (and once again, I am not making it a poll because I want people who actually follow me to give me an answer, not people who will never come to my blog again after voting).
Should I try to write a few romantic pieces here and there between Dal and another member?
I'm in my experimenting era, so I have a question (and once again, I am not making it a poll because I want people who actually follow me to give me an answer, not people who will never come to my blog again after voting).
Should I try to write a few romantic pieces here and there between Dal and another member?
summary: In a world of fantasy, not everything is as easy as in those fairy tales. Especially not when the weight of the entire world is on a single person's shoulder.
a/n: This is a thank you post for me reaching 200+ followers here. Truly, I am forever grateful. I'm aware that in the long past this wasn't the genre that had been voted, but you might find some comfort in there if you squint hard enough? Or in a part 2, if enough people are interested in that, as I have ideas on how to continue this. But, either way, I am grateful for everyone who is still here and supporting me. I lock each comment, ask and reblog I get into my heart, don't ever doubt that.
Back to the masterlist
Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!
!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!
!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!
Even as the Sun shone down on Dal's small form, fair skin almost glistening under the warm rays, he could feel the hold that eternal chill had on him. The way it sunk its claws deeper and deeper with each passing minute, forever there, forever aching. Like a wound that refused to fully heal, festering in silence and leaving him alienated.
Because nobody else felt like this, now did they?
No.
None.
Not a single other child within the entire city felt the same aching way as he did, much less the ones roaming the endless halls of this castle they called their home. He'd learnt that early on, sealing his lips and forcing him to suffer in silence. This frost was his to bear, and only his.
“What got you to think so hard?” – came a familiar voice, their warm hand breaking him out of his stupor – “Your brows are furrowed in that same way you get whenever something's on your mind. So, what happened?”
The sight of cerulean roses, endless and precious as they glinted like gems under the unreachable Sun, disappeared as he gazed at his friend. His only friend. The only person who could make him feel warm in this cruel world, no matter how his blood chilled or his fingers ached.
“I was wondering if you'd get caught by your teacher today as well.”
At his reply, the prince immediately started to pout, even though the boy was older than him. He never pouted, but alas. Chan only had so many years to act so childish before the burden of the crown would befall his tiny shoulders, and who was he to get in the way of that? Besides, the prince looked charmingly adorable like this—not that he would ever admit that.
“Hey, I told you that was an accident! Had Hannah not snitched on me, I would have gotten away with it too!” – when he simply smiled, silent, Chan only fumed harder – “I'm telling the truth! See for yourself if you don't believe me.”
With that, off they were, his hand cold and slightly numb in the prince's. He relished in it, the way he was clung to, tiny legs doing their best to keep up with Chan's high energy levels.
Despite the chill he could feel in his very bones, he smiled, the sound of their laughter echoing within the palace walls.
-.-.-.-.-.-
As years passed and their bodies matured, so did their responsibilities. Their time spent together dwindled with each week, their duties binding them to different paths. Dal wasn't royalty, unlike his friend, and he wasn't a fool to envy it either. He saw the way it killed the child he'd played with not so long ago, how Chan's childhood was gone, how each smile was used as a political weapon instead of a sign of joy.
His own duties bound him as the next leader of the healing wing, a position his father upheld as of now. It wasn't as ungrateful of a duty as Chan's, but it sapped away at all the little strength he had left. Each day he returned to his quarters, dead tired, only to collapse into bed and repeat the cycle all over again.
Had his body been different, he would have enjoyed learning about the intricacies healing brought with itself; he would have gone above and beyond to become the best healer there ever was, to ensure Chan wouldn't suffer.
He couldn't, however.
Not when he sat under the biting shade of a willow tree, having snuck away for a brief moment, all because his joints ached and refused to move properly.
It was peaceful out here. Nature thrived under the touch of the Sun, always shining, always there, kind and warm to everyone but him. He watched the rays dance across his skin between the leaves, yet he felt nothing, no matter how he moved his fingers—no warmth, no gentleness, not anything.
They felt just as stiff as ever.
Before he could have marvelled at the intricate lines of frost on the back of his hand, a figure approached. It was familiar, achingly so, tiny shoulders now broader yet still so frail. The moment the prince sat down, he leaned closer to his friend despite himself, the action invisible to anyone but them.
Chan smiled and knocked their shoulders together before silence enveloped their lounging forms.
He'd missed this. Too much so, but he wasn't about to say that. That wasn't who he was, and Chan knew that very well. His friend instead stayed close, drinking in the silence, allowing them to bask in each other's silence for just a few minutes.
Just until they would be forced back within the constricting walls of the palace.
“Has nothing changed?” – came the question, so vague nobody but him could have ever understood it.
Yet, he had, and so came his reply.
“None.”
A worried pair of eyes landed on him at that, and before he could have done anything, before a single word of reassurance could have left him, it was too late. Hands enveloped his own, lukewarm compared to his freezing skin. Surprise flashed across Chan's face before the pressure increased, locking his fingers into place.
It seemed that he wouldn't be able to hide the severity of his state from Chan further.
“Dal, this, this is so much worse than before. Since when has it been like this? Tell me.” – when he turned his head away, unwilling to answer, more words followed and desperate enough to break him – “It's as if I'm touching ice, Dal. And it's not melting. Please, answer me. Don't you trust me?”
That was a stupid question. Of course he did. Chan was the only person he'd told besides his family about this condition of his, and only his friend had taken him seriously. His family, as loving as they were and as much as he adored them, had only looked at him in disbelief. As if he'd sprouted a second head. All because a simple checkup failed to show there was something wrong with him.
“It's been getting worse ever since I came into this world, Chan hyung. I don't know how much longer I can keep acting as if nothing's wrong when in reality, I feel as if my marrow itself is freezing over in agony.”
He paused for a moment, then he looked back at his friend and smiled.
“But it's okay, I'll do my best, just like you do. Then when you're the king, you can help me, just like how I will help you.”
But that promise wouldn't be fulfilled. Not for long, long years, each one more painful than the last.
There was a day, a morning, when the mere chill he'd lived with turned into something bone-deep and unavoidable, freezing Dal in a way he hadn't felt before. Joints locked into place and air turned into icy mist right before his very eyes, as if he'd become the icy tundras of the wilderness itself. Every inhale hurt, lodging minuscule shards of ice into his lungs, cutting him up from the inside, like the minced meat he was.
The air itself was stolen from him, leaving him with nothing but a darkened vision and ringing ears.
It was amidst this moment of torture where his own body had trapped him as its prisoner, that everything clicked into place. He could only catch bits and pieces, on the verge of passing out and freezing his environment itself, but those words, uttered by the King, cut into him deeper than any shard of ice ever could.
“He's been blessed by Sol—… is the Oracle.”
Him? Blessed? To become the Oracle of the legends, fated to live for eternity and serve the kingdom tirelessly?
What a cruel joke.
-.-.-.-
Years must have passed since his true duty's revelation, yet Dal could not tell. Not in the room they'd locked him into, sealed away to ensure everyone's safety. His powers, as sought-after and vital as they were, their strength exceeded everything else. No matter how hard he tried, to this day he couldn't wrangle them under his control.
Thus, everywhere he went, everything he touched, turned into a land of ice. Crystals of frost covered each inch of their surface, tiny flowers made of ice sprouting, as if mocking him. He couldn't go outside anymore, to gaze at the garden. He couldn't sit there and wait for his friend, just so they could watch the ocean of gem roses and firefly lanterns glisten under the sky.
Sometimes he wondered what it meant that he was forever tortured by this frost—ah, no, that was false. Wondering was all he could do, in this prison of his, deprived of everything except for his most basic needs. Yet, even the food was given to him without human touch, unable to connect to anyone as if he was nothing but an outcast. So, he wondered day and night, letting his imagination take him away. Why was ice and the future connected? Why was he the chosen one, and why now of all times? Why not a different century, far from when he was alive?
In the end, he never got anywhere closer to an answer. His powers tormented him day and night, shredding him up from the inside, only to heal it slowly. Immortality was endless, yes, but not painless.
No matter how he wished for it to be.
It was on an aching day like that, where he laid on the floor, joints frozen stiff and eyes much too dry to shed more tears, when the door opened. At first, he'd chalked it up to hallucinations. Surely nobody would allow anyone to visit him, when he couldn't control his powers any better than when he'd been locked in here. If anything, they'd gotten worse, seemingly having gained strength with the revelation of their existence—it was how no matter how the frost hurt him, it healed it all the same.
“Hey.”
It was a simple greeting, a single word, yet it had shaken him to his very core. Like a tiny wisp of flame it appeared in his world, melting the ice that had sunken so deep into his flesh. His head whipped to the side and when his eyes finally focused on the figure, his breath got stolen all over again.
There his friend was, all dimple-smiled and bright, yet so different his eyes watered. Time had slipped from his grasp more than he'd imagined, leaving behind that young boy and giving someone different in return. Someone familiar, yes, but… not the same. Broader shoulders. Taller posture. A stance that told of experience, not of childish playfulness. A voice so much deeper and refined he felt himself shrivel up and die.
Yet, he was revived by that gentle touch, as lukewarm as it felt to his frozen skin.
“Hey, long time no see.”
But he couldn't answer, he couldn't look into those warm eyes. All he was capable of was to lean into that careful touch—careful for him. Not of him. Never that.
“It hurts, Hyung. It hurts.” – the words left him in a quiet whisper, barely louder than the gentle breeze outside.
“I know, dear. I know.”
That was all Chan said, and he didn't need to hear more. It was enough. More than enough. This warm presence he was given, briefly no doubt, could soothe his aching soul for now. Just for a few minutes.
Just enough for him to feel his blood flow again and the air return to his lungs.
-.-.-
The relief Dal had been granted never lasted long, if at all. Chan was always called away after a few minutes, forced out of the room by guards equipped by rune-bound weapons.
The exact same ones that protected everyone else from him, right in this prison of his.
It only hurt him so because of that damn bittersweet smile his hyung always sported, as if it hurt Chan more than it hurt him to be separated. To see him like this, locked away for everyone's sake.
Here, time existed not, he'd realised. Not when his mind was eaten by agony, by unbelievable visions he refused to share or believe. They'd arrived as mere glances into the future, at first, only to come back as elaborate nightmares that left his head pounding and his heart screaming out in pain. Each one was worse than the last, telling of wars against the heavens themselves. Of bloodshed enough to drown the entire world and him along with it.
Sometimes he wondered if the pain, the ice and wounds he endlessly harboured, were there to train him for the visions of the future. To ensure he could endure them, or if they had a different purpose.
He wouldn't know.
Not now, and perhaps not ever.
Between Chan's brief visits he ached for more with each passing day, he roamed the ancient books he'd been left with whenever his body allowed. Each movement of the page hurt, frozen veins splintering, only to be mended within that same agonising breath. The same breath that was nothing but mist before him, clouding his sight for a mere second.
Spells of forgotten eras hid behind the chilled puffs of air, written in a language nobody knew—all except for him.
No doubt the work of the god had cursed him into this duty, who this kingdom worshiped while his hatred festered in silence. Whose symbol was everywhere, within and outside these accursed walls. Who Chan was supposed to devote his life to, who he was meant to serve, except…
No, he didn't want to remember those terrifying visions right now.
Book after book covered his desk as he read through them, only for them to start piling on the floor once he had no room left. Whenever Chan visited, the male always brought more with himself, yet their brief conversations were never about what they hid. His friend, the prince—or rather, the king, made sure to never talk about such matters.
It still felt as if they'd never been separated, and for that, he was eternally grateful. It was what kept him going, what gave him strength to get out of bed when his bones froze stiff and his skin broke open in icy ravines.
When he finally found something, a ray of hope amidst this endless suffering, of ice and a future too disturbing to even imagine, he didn't hesitate. There was nothing that could stop him from finally breaking free, albeit for a moment, he stopped.
What would happen to Chan?
It was a question foolish to ask: he knew already. He'd seen it countless times, this particular vision haunting him, as if a warning.
So, he waited. Just for a bit longer, just to enjoy Chan's undisturbed presence that much longer. Just so he could etch their chats into the folds of his brain. Just so he could see those dimpled smiles once more, accompanied by a laughter he'd long to hear for eternity.
He had to.
Just for a little while longer.
He was selfish like that.
-.-.-
It was hard to exist like this. To provide what the future was bound to be to the person he was fated doom. To the person who led an entire kingdom into its death. Just for him. Just because of his selfish actions.
All because he was too weak to bear the pain, the mental strain, the cruelty of it all.
Why had their god chosen him? Was it all to show him the consequences of his actions sooner? To torment him? Or was it His revenge for what was to come?
He didn't know, and he wouldn't find out either. Not in this lifetime, and not in the next.
All he knew was that soon, after his lips fell closed and the glowing of the spellbook stopped, a familiar figure would burst through the door. Worried. Shocked. Crestfallen.
Broken.
The future he'd seen so many times slowly became reality as he finished the spell, the enormous amount of chilled mana he housed settling around him like a vice. Something had been cut inside him as it settled, permanently disconnected from him at last.
He couldn't even feel relieved anymore, the spell's effect now binding him forever.
Just like he'd predicted, the door fell open and in stormed Chan, rushing up to him in worry. Books were pushed aside to make way, as his room had been consumed by them. Perhaps he'd been too desperate to search for his answer, but he'd gotten it, and that was all that mattered.
“Dal! What happened? Are you okay? We felt the entire castle shake. What did you do?” – the questions fell from Chan's lips, warm hands leading his shoulders so their eyes could meet.
The smile that stretched his lips was genuine, yet the emotion that should have created it was missing from his chest.
“It doesn't hurt anymore.”
Shock painted Chan's features at his answer, the same one he'd seen so many times. It was soon washed away by confusion, desperation, warm fingers cradling his frost-kissed face now.
He wanted to lean into them, but even their warmth felt different now.
Hollow.
“It, it doesn't hurt? But how? What happened?” – there was hope in Chan's voice, he could hear it, the male clinging to it.
He would soon shatter it into tiny pieces.
“I found a spell. It took away the pain.”
“The pain? Dal, Dal no, no no nonono. Don't tell me you—Oh Sol. Tell me you didn't. You know those are ancient spells, asking for more than they give.” – Chan's voice wavered, yet the chest he was hugged to held strong – “What else did it take? Tell me.”
Should he say it? Try to fight against the fate he'd seen so many times, dooming not just this kingdom but his precious hyung along with it? Was there even a point in trying to prevent it?
No.
There was none, and so his lips opened, skin crackling as it splintered open.
“Everything.”
It was strange, to remain there, hugged and cradled close, unable to cry or feel sad while the dearest person in his life fell apart. There was nothing left for him to feel, all emotions taken by the spell he'd performed willingly. Gone were his days filled with misery, being a misformed tool of the gods thrown aside all because they could.
In return, he'd doom them, cursing this entire world.
The cold touch of the Moon swapped the warm rays of the Sun as they remained there, the ruler of a doomed kingdom losing hope with each tear he shed. Dal took each and every single one, letting them soak into him, branding his frozen skin with crystalline droplets that looked nothing more than minuscule gems. They glistened under the soon-godless sky, determining their hopeless fate with each one that joined the others.
And as Chan's sobs withered away, vengeful determination bursting forth instead of hopelessness, the last nail was hammered into their coffin.
“Look down upon us, Sol, from your throne of gold. Look at your poor subjects who you'd betrayed, who you'd abandoned. Look down upon us for as long as you can, until the day my hatred dims the Sun itself.”
No matter how tightly he was grasped, there was nothing but hollowness within his chest. A bittersweet nothingness as he watched Chan wage war against the very foundation of their world, bathed in tears and hatred deep enough to curse them both.
All just to avenge the fate he'd been dealt in this life.
I'm going to sob, thank you my dear 〒▽〒 Honestly I was starting to think that you guys didn't like the genre with how little of you interacted with this fic, and that worried me since I looove fantasy. Especially with angst! Also, I love exploring new aspects of Dal (since he lives in my head rent free), and it makes me very happy that you liked it! Even if it's very different.
stays (esp on twt) get so defensive and protective of jype whenever someone questions whether ai was used for skz stuff while literally almost all of the recent skz mvs, trailers, mashups, etc had ai in it so lmao
btw the team that worked on face swapping for the t&t trailer confirmed that they used different tools 2d, 3d, cgi, vfx AND ai. now they didn't specify which ai (gen or not) and how much of it they used but some of them have 'ai artist' and 'open ai' in their bios sooooo 🙂
Hey so, I needed a pick-me-up and I just went through a lot of posts on this artist's blog. There is something very calming about this soft art style and I, well, I just adore it. Please go check them out. I didn't want to spam the artist with reblogging nearly all their art, but trust me, my blog would be filled with it.
summary: In a world of fantasy, not everything is as easy as in those fairy tales. Especially not when the weight of the entire world is on a single person's shoulder.
a/n: This is a thank you post for me reaching 200+ followers here. Truly, I am forever grateful. I'm aware that in the long past this wasn't the genre that had been voted, but you might find some comfort in there if you squint hard enough? Or in a part 2, if enough people are interested in that, as I have ideas on how to continue this. But, either way, I am grateful for everyone who is still here and supporting me. I lock each comment, ask and reblog I get into my heart, don't ever doubt that.
Back to the masterlist
Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!
!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!
!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!
Even as the Sun shone down on Dal's small form, fair skin almost glistening under the warm rays, he could feel the hold that eternal chill had on him. The way it sunk its claws deeper and deeper with each passing minute, forever there, forever aching. Like a wound that refused to fully heal, festering in silence and leaving him alienated.
Because nobody else felt like this, now did they?
No.
None.
Not a single other child within the entire city felt the same aching way as he did, much less the ones roaming the endless halls of this castle they called their home. He'd learnt that early on, sealing his lips and forcing him to suffer in silence. This frost was his to bear, and only his.
“What got you to think so hard?” – came a familiar voice, their warm hand breaking him out of his stupor – “Your brows are furrowed in that same way you get whenever something's on your mind. So, what happened?”
The sight of cerulean roses, endless and precious as they glinted like gems under the unreachable Sun, disappeared as he gazed at his friend. His only friend. The only person who could make him feel warm in this cruel world, no matter how his blood chilled or his fingers ached.
“I was wondering if you'd get caught by your teacher today as well.”
At his reply, the prince immediately started to pout, even though the boy was older than him. He never pouted, but alas. Chan only had so many years to act so childish before the burden of the crown would befall his tiny shoulders, and who was he to get in the way of that? Besides, the prince looked charmingly adorable like this—not that he would ever admit that.
“Hey, I told you that was an accident! Had Hannah not snitched on me, I would have gotten away with it too!” – when he simply smiled, silent, Chan only fumed harder – “I'm telling the truth! See for yourself if you don't believe me.”
With that, off they were, his hand cold and slightly numb in the prince's. He relished in it, the way he was clung to, tiny legs doing their best to keep up with Chan's high energy levels.
Despite the chill he could feel in his very bones, he smiled, the sound of their laughter echoing within the palace walls.
-.-.-.-.-.-
As years passed and their bodies matured, so did their responsibilities. Their time spent together dwindled with each week, their duties binding them to different paths. Dal wasn't royalty, unlike his friend, and he wasn't a fool to envy it either. He saw the way it killed the child he'd played with not so long ago, how Chan's childhood was gone, how each smile was used as a political weapon instead of a sign of joy.
His own duties bound him as the next leader of the healing wing, a position his father upheld as of now. It wasn't as ungrateful of a duty as Chan's, but it sapped away at all the little strength he had left. Each day he returned to his quarters, dead tired, only to collapse into bed and repeat the cycle all over again.
Had his body been different, he would have enjoyed learning about the intricacies healing brought with itself; he would have gone above and beyond to become the best healer there ever was, to ensure Chan wouldn't suffer.
He couldn't, however.
Not when he sat under the biting shade of a willow tree, having snuck away for a brief moment, all because his joints ached and refused to move properly.
It was peaceful out here. Nature thrived under the touch of the Sun, always shining, always there, kind and warm to everyone but him. He watched the rays dance across his skin between the leaves, yet he felt nothing, no matter how he moved his fingers—no warmth, no gentleness, not anything.
They felt just as stiff as ever.
Before he could have marvelled at the intricate lines of frost on the back of his hand, a figure approached. It was familiar, achingly so, tiny shoulders now broader yet still so frail. The moment the prince sat down, he leaned closer to his friend despite himself, the action invisible to anyone but them.
Chan smiled and knocked their shoulders together before silence enveloped their lounging forms.
He'd missed this. Too much so, but he wasn't about to say that. That wasn't who he was, and Chan knew that very well. His friend instead stayed close, drinking in the silence, allowing them to bask in each other's silence for just a few minutes.
Just until they would be forced back within the constricting walls of the palace.
“Has nothing changed?” – came the question, so vague nobody but him could have ever understood it.
Yet, he had, and so came his reply.
“None.”
A worried pair of eyes landed on him at that, and before he could have done anything, before a single word of reassurance could have left him, it was too late. Hands enveloped his own, lukewarm compared to his freezing skin. Surprise flashed across Chan's face before the pressure increased, locking his fingers into place.
It seemed that he wouldn't be able to hide the severity of his state from Chan further.
“Dal, this, this is so much worse than before. Since when has it been like this? Tell me.” – when he turned his head away, unwilling to answer, more words followed and desperate enough to break him – “It's as if I'm touching ice, Dal. And it's not melting. Please, answer me. Don't you trust me?”
That was a stupid question. Of course he did. Chan was the only person he'd told besides his family about this condition of his, and only his friend had taken him seriously. His family, as loving as they were and as much as he adored them, had only looked at him in disbelief. As if he'd sprouted a second head. All because a simple checkup failed to show there was something wrong with him.
“It's been getting worse ever since I came into this world, Chan hyung. I don't know how much longer I can keep acting as if nothing's wrong when in reality, I feel as if my marrow itself is freezing over in agony.”
He paused for a moment, then he looked back at his friend and smiled.
“But it's okay, I'll do my best, just like you do. Then when you're the king, you can help me, just like how I will help you.”
But that promise wouldn't be fulfilled. Not for long, long years, each one more painful than the last.
There was a day, a morning, when the mere chill he'd lived with turned into something bone-deep and unavoidable, freezing Dal in a way he hadn't felt before. Joints locked into place and air turned into icy mist right before his very eyes, as if he'd become the icy tundras of the wilderness itself. Every inhale hurt, lodging minuscule shards of ice into his lungs, cutting him up from the inside, like the minced meat he was.
The air itself was stolen from him, leaving him with nothing but a darkened vision and ringing ears.
It was amidst this moment of torture where his own body had trapped him as its prisoner, that everything clicked into place. He could only catch bits and pieces, on the verge of passing out and freezing his environment itself, but those words, uttered by the King, cut into him deeper than any shard of ice ever could.
“He's been blessed by Sol—… is the Oracle.”
Him? Blessed? To become the Oracle of the legends, fated to live for eternity and serve the kingdom tirelessly?
What a cruel joke.
-.-.-.-
Years must have passed since his true duty's revelation, yet Dal could not tell. Not in the room they'd locked him into, sealed away to ensure everyone's safety. His powers, as sought-after and vital as they were, their strength exceeded everything else. No matter how hard he tried, to this day he couldn't wrangle them under his control.
Thus, everywhere he went, everything he touched, turned into a land of ice. Crystals of frost covered each inch of their surface, tiny flowers made of ice sprouting, as if mocking him. He couldn't go outside anymore, to gaze at the garden. He couldn't sit there and wait for his friend, just so they could watch the ocean of gem roses and firefly lanterns glisten under the sky.
Sometimes he wondered what it meant that he was forever tortured by this frost—ah, no, that was false. Wondering was all he could do, in this prison of his, deprived of everything except for his most basic needs. Yet, even the food was given to him without human touch, unable to connect to anyone as if he was nothing but an outcast. So, he wondered day and night, letting his imagination take him away. Why was ice and the future connected? Why was he the chosen one, and why now of all times? Why not a different century, far from when he was alive?
In the end, he never got anywhere closer to an answer. His powers tormented him day and night, shredding him up from the inside, only to heal it slowly. Immortality was endless, yes, but not painless.
No matter how he wished for it to be.
It was on an aching day like that, where he laid on the floor, joints frozen stiff and eyes much too dry to shed more tears, when the door opened. At first, he'd chalked it up to hallucinations. Surely nobody would allow anyone to visit him, when he couldn't control his powers any better than when he'd been locked in here. If anything, they'd gotten worse, seemingly having gained strength with the revelation of their existence—it was how no matter how the frost hurt him, it healed it all the same.
“Hey.”
It was a simple greeting, a single word, yet it had shaken him to his very core. Like a tiny wisp of flame it appeared in his world, melting the ice that had sunken so deep into his flesh. His head whipped to the side and when his eyes finally focused on the figure, his breath got stolen all over again.
There his friend was, all dimple-smiled and bright, yet so different his eyes watered. Time had slipped from his grasp more than he'd imagined, leaving behind that young boy and giving someone different in return. Someone familiar, yes, but… not the same. Broader shoulders. Taller posture. A stance that told of experience, not of childish playfulness. A voice so much deeper and refined he felt himself shrivel up and die.
Yet, he was revived by that gentle touch, as lukewarm as it felt to his frozen skin.
“Hey, long time no see.”
But he couldn't answer, he couldn't look into those warm eyes. All he was capable of was to lean into that careful touch—careful for him. Not of him. Never that.
“It hurts, Hyung. It hurts.” – the words left him in a quiet whisper, barely louder than the gentle breeze outside.
“I know, dear. I know.”
That was all Chan said, and he didn't need to hear more. It was enough. More than enough. This warm presence he was given, briefly no doubt, could soothe his aching soul for now. Just for a few minutes.
Just enough for him to feel his blood flow again and the air return to his lungs.
-.-.-
The relief Dal had been granted never lasted long, if at all. Chan was always called away after a few minutes, forced out of the room by guards equipped by rune-bound weapons.
The exact same ones that protected everyone else from him, right in this prison of his.
It only hurt him so because of that damn bittersweet smile his hyung always sported, as if it hurt Chan more than it hurt him to be separated. To see him like this, locked away for everyone's sake.
Here, time existed not, he'd realised. Not when his mind was eaten by agony, by unbelievable visions he refused to share or believe. They'd arrived as mere glances into the future, at first, only to come back as elaborate nightmares that left his head pounding and his heart screaming out in pain. Each one was worse than the last, telling of wars against the heavens themselves. Of bloodshed enough to drown the entire world and him along with it.
Sometimes he wondered if the pain, the ice and wounds he endlessly harboured, were there to train him for the visions of the future. To ensure he could endure them, or if they had a different purpose.
He wouldn't know.
Not now, and perhaps not ever.
Between Chan's brief visits he ached for more with each passing day, he roamed the ancient books he'd been left with whenever his body allowed. Each movement of the page hurt, frozen veins splintering, only to be mended within that same agonising breath. The same breath that was nothing but mist before him, clouding his sight for a mere second.
Spells of forgotten eras hid behind the chilled puffs of air, written in a language nobody knew—all except for him.
No doubt the work of the god had cursed him into this duty, who this kingdom worshiped while his hatred festered in silence. Whose symbol was everywhere, within and outside these accursed walls. Who Chan was supposed to devote his life to, who he was meant to serve, except…
No, he didn't want to remember those terrifying visions right now.
Book after book covered his desk as he read through them, only for them to start piling on the floor once he had no room left. Whenever Chan visited, the male always brought more with himself, yet their brief conversations were never about what they hid. His friend, the prince—or rather, the king, made sure to never talk about such matters.
It still felt as if they'd never been separated, and for that, he was eternally grateful. It was what kept him going, what gave him strength to get out of bed when his bones froze stiff and his skin broke open in icy ravines.
When he finally found something, a ray of hope amidst this endless suffering, of ice and a future too disturbing to even imagine, he didn't hesitate. There was nothing that could stop him from finally breaking free, albeit for a moment, he stopped.
What would happen to Chan?
It was a question foolish to ask: he knew already. He'd seen it countless times, this particular vision haunting him, as if a warning.
So, he waited. Just for a bit longer, just to enjoy Chan's undisturbed presence that much longer. Just so he could etch their chats into the folds of his brain. Just so he could see those dimpled smiles once more, accompanied by a laughter he'd long to hear for eternity.
He had to.
Just for a little while longer.
He was selfish like that.
-.-.-
It was hard to exist like this. To provide what the future was bound to be to the person he was fated doom. To the person who led an entire kingdom into its death. Just for him. Just because of his selfish actions.
All because he was too weak to bear the pain, the mental strain, the cruelty of it all.
Why had their god chosen him? Was it all to show him the consequences of his actions sooner? To torment him? Or was it His revenge for what was to come?
He didn't know, and he wouldn't find out either. Not in this lifetime, and not in the next.
All he knew was that soon, after his lips fell closed and the glowing of the spellbook stopped, a familiar figure would burst through the door. Worried. Shocked. Crestfallen.
Broken.
The future he'd seen so many times slowly became reality as he finished the spell, the enormous amount of chilled mana he housed settling around him like a vice. Something had been cut inside him as it settled, permanently disconnected from him at last.
He couldn't even feel relieved anymore, the spell's effect now binding him forever.
Just like he'd predicted, the door fell open and in stormed Chan, rushing up to him in worry. Books were pushed aside to make way, as his room had been consumed by them. Perhaps he'd been too desperate to search for his answer, but he'd gotten it, and that was all that mattered.
“Dal! What happened? Are you okay? We felt the entire castle shake. What did you do?” – the questions fell from Chan's lips, warm hands leading his shoulders so their eyes could meet.
The smile that stretched his lips was genuine, yet the emotion that should have created it was missing from his chest.
“It doesn't hurt anymore.”
Shock painted Chan's features at his answer, the same one he'd seen so many times. It was soon washed away by confusion, desperation, warm fingers cradling his frost-kissed face now.
He wanted to lean into them, but even their warmth felt different now.
Hollow.
“It, it doesn't hurt? But how? What happened?” – there was hope in Chan's voice, he could hear it, the male clinging to it.
He would soon shatter it into tiny pieces.
“I found a spell. It took away the pain.”
“The pain? Dal, Dal no, no no nonono. Don't tell me you—Oh Sol. Tell me you didn't. You know those are ancient spells, asking for more than they give.” – Chan's voice wavered, yet the chest he was hugged to held strong – “What else did it take? Tell me.”
Should he say it? Try to fight against the fate he'd seen so many times, dooming not just this kingdom but his precious hyung along with it? Was there even a point in trying to prevent it?
No.
There was none, and so his lips opened, skin crackling as it splintered open.
“Everything.”
It was strange, to remain there, hugged and cradled close, unable to cry or feel sad while the dearest person in his life fell apart. There was nothing left for him to feel, all emotions taken by the spell he'd performed willingly. Gone were his days filled with misery, being a misformed tool of the gods thrown aside all because they could.
In return, he'd doom them, cursing this entire world.
The cold touch of the Moon swapped the warm rays of the Sun as they remained there, the ruler of a doomed kingdom losing hope with each tear he shed. Dal took each and every single one, letting them soak into him, branding his frozen skin with crystalline droplets that looked nothing more than minuscule gems. They glistened under the soon-godless sky, determining their hopeless fate with each one that joined the others.
And as Chan's sobs withered away, vengeful determination bursting forth instead of hopelessness, the last nail was hammered into their coffin.
“Look down upon us, Sol, from your throne of gold. Look at your poor subjects who you'd betrayed, who you'd abandoned. Look down upon us for as long as you can, until the day my hatred dims the Sun itself.”
No matter how tightly he was grasped, there was nothing but hollowness within his chest. A bittersweet nothingness as he watched Chan wage war against the very foundation of their world, bathed in tears and hatred deep enough to curse them both.
All just to avenge the fate he'd been dealt in this life.
summary: In a world of fantasy, not everything is as easy as in those fairy tales. Especially not when the weight of the entire world is on a single person's shoulder.
a/n: This is a thank you post for me reaching 200+ followers here. Truly, I am forever grateful. I'm aware that in the long past this wasn't the genre that had been voted, but you might find some comfort in there if you squint hard enough? Or in a part 2, if enough people are interested in that, as I have ideas on how to continue this. But, either way, I am grateful for everyone who is still here and supporting me. I lock each comment, ask and reblog I get into my heart, don't ever doubt that.
Back to the masterlist
Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!
!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!
!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!
Even as the Sun shone down on Dal's small form, fair skin almost glistening under the warm rays, he could feel the hold that eternal chill had on him. The way it sunk its claws deeper and deeper with each passing minute, forever there, forever aching. Like a wound that refused to fully heal, festering in silence and leaving him alienated.
Because nobody else felt like this, now did they?
No.
None.
Not a single other child within the entire city felt the same aching way as he did, much less the ones roaming the endless halls of this castle they called their home. He'd learnt that early on, sealing his lips and forcing him to suffer in silence. This frost was his to bear, and only his.
“What got you to think so hard?” – came a familiar voice, their warm hand breaking him out of his stupor – “Your brows are furrowed in that same way you get whenever something's on your mind. So, what happened?”
The sight of cerulean roses, endless and precious as they glinted like gems under the unreachable Sun, disappeared as he gazed at his friend. His only friend. The only person who could make him feel warm in this cruel world, no matter how his blood chilled or his fingers ached.
“I was wondering if you'd get caught by your teacher today as well.”
At his reply, the prince immediately started to pout, even though the boy was older than him. He never pouted, but alas. Chan only had so many years to act so childish before the burden of the crown would befall his tiny shoulders, and who was he to get in the way of that? Besides, the prince looked charmingly adorable like this—not that he would ever admit that.
“Hey, I told you that was an accident! Had Hannah not snitched on me, I would have gotten away with it too!” – when he simply smiled, silent, Chan only fumed harder – “I'm telling the truth! See for yourself if you don't believe me.”
With that, off they were, his hand cold and slightly numb in the prince's. He relished in it, the way he was clung to, tiny legs doing their best to keep up with Chan's high energy levels.
Despite the chill he could feel in his very bones, he smiled, the sound of their laughter echoing within the palace walls.
-.-.-.-.-.-
As years passed and their bodies matured, so did their responsibilities. Their time spent together dwindled with each week, their duties binding them to different paths. Dal wasn't royalty, unlike his friend, and he wasn't a fool to envy it either. He saw the way it killed the child he'd played with not so long ago, how Chan's childhood was gone, how each smile was used as a political weapon instead of a sign of joy.
His own duties bound him as the next leader of the healing wing, a position his father upheld as of now. It wasn't as ungrateful of a duty as Chan's, but it sapped away at all the little strength he had left. Each day he returned to his quarters, dead tired, only to collapse into bed and repeat the cycle all over again.
Had his body been different, he would have enjoyed learning about the intricacies healing brought with itself; he would have gone above and beyond to become the best healer there ever was, to ensure Chan wouldn't suffer.
He couldn't, however.
Not when he sat under the biting shade of a willow tree, having snuck away for a brief moment, all because his joints ached and refused to move properly.
It was peaceful out here. Nature thrived under the touch of the Sun, always shining, always there, kind and warm to everyone but him. He watched the rays dance across his skin between the leaves, yet he felt nothing, no matter how he moved his fingers—no warmth, no gentleness, not anything.
They felt just as stiff as ever.
Before he could have marvelled at the intricate lines of frost on the back of his hand, a figure approached. It was familiar, achingly so, tiny shoulders now broader yet still so frail. The moment the prince sat down, he leaned closer to his friend despite himself, the action invisible to anyone but them.
Chan smiled and knocked their shoulders together before silence enveloped their lounging forms.
He'd missed this. Too much so, but he wasn't about to say that. That wasn't who he was, and Chan knew that very well. His friend instead stayed close, drinking in the silence, allowing them to bask in each other's silence for just a few minutes.
Just until they would be forced back within the constricting walls of the palace.
“Has nothing changed?” – came the question, so vague nobody but him could have ever understood it.
Yet, he had, and so came his reply.
“None.”
A worried pair of eyes landed on him at that, and before he could have done anything, before a single word of reassurance could have left him, it was too late. Hands enveloped his own, lukewarm compared to his freezing skin. Surprise flashed across Chan's face before the pressure increased, locking his fingers into place.
It seemed that he wouldn't be able to hide the severity of his state from Chan further.
“Dal, this, this is so much worse than before. Since when has it been like this? Tell me.” – when he turned his head away, unwilling to answer, more words followed and desperate enough to break him – “It's as if I'm touching ice, Dal. And it's not melting. Please, answer me. Don't you trust me?”
That was a stupid question. Of course he did. Chan was the only person he'd told besides his family about this condition of his, and only his friend had taken him seriously. His family, as loving as they were and as much as he adored them, had only looked at him in disbelief. As if he'd sprouted a second head. All because a simple checkup failed to show there was something wrong with him.
“It's been getting worse ever since I came into this world, Chan hyung. I don't know how much longer I can keep acting as if nothing's wrong when in reality, I feel as if my marrow itself is freezing over in agony.”
He paused for a moment, then he looked back at his friend and smiled.
“But it's okay, I'll do my best, just like you do. Then when you're the king, you can help me, just like how I will help you.”
But that promise wouldn't be fulfilled. Not for long, long years, each one more painful than the last.
There was a day, a morning, when the mere chill he'd lived with turned into something bone-deep and unavoidable, freezing Dal in a way he hadn't felt before. Joints locked into place and air turned into icy mist right before his very eyes, as if he'd become the icy tundras of the wilderness itself. Every inhale hurt, lodging minuscule shards of ice into his lungs, cutting him up from the inside, like the minced meat he was.
The air itself was stolen from him, leaving him with nothing but a darkened vision and ringing ears.
It was amidst this moment of torture where his own body had trapped him as its prisoner, that everything clicked into place. He could only catch bits and pieces, on the verge of passing out and freezing his environment itself, but those words, uttered by the King, cut into him deeper than any shard of ice ever could.
“He's been blessed by Sol—… is the Oracle.”
Him? Blessed? To become the Oracle of the legends, fated to live for eternity and serve the kingdom tirelessly?
What a cruel joke.
-.-.-.-
Years must have passed since his true duty's revelation, yet Dal could not tell. Not in the room they'd locked him into, sealed away to ensure everyone's safety. His powers, as sought-after and vital as they were, their strength exceeded everything else. No matter how hard he tried, to this day he couldn't wrangle them under his control.
Thus, everywhere he went, everything he touched, turned into a land of ice. Crystals of frost covered each inch of their surface, tiny flowers made of ice sprouting, as if mocking him. He couldn't go outside anymore, to gaze at the garden. He couldn't sit there and wait for his friend, just so they could watch the ocean of gem roses and firefly lanterns glisten under the sky.
Sometimes he wondered what it meant that he was forever tortured by this frost—ah, no, that was false. Wondering was all he could do, in this prison of his, deprived of everything except for his most basic needs. Yet, even the food was given to him without human touch, unable to connect to anyone as if he was nothing but an outcast. So, he wondered day and night, letting his imagination take him away. Why was ice and the future connected? Why was he the chosen one, and why now of all times? Why not a different century, far from when he was alive?
In the end, he never got anywhere closer to an answer. His powers tormented him day and night, shredding him up from the inside, only to heal it slowly. Immortality was endless, yes, but not painless.
No matter how he wished for it to be.
It was on an aching day like that, where he laid on the floor, joints frozen stiff and eyes much too dry to shed more tears, when the door opened. At first, he'd chalked it up to hallucinations. Surely nobody would allow anyone to visit him, when he couldn't control his powers any better than when he'd been locked in here. If anything, they'd gotten worse, seemingly having gained strength with the revelation of their existence—it was how no matter how the frost hurt him, it healed it all the same.
“Hey.”
It was a simple greeting, a single word, yet it had shaken him to his very core. Like a tiny wisp of flame it appeared in his world, melting the ice that had sunken so deep into his flesh. His head whipped to the side and when his eyes finally focused on the figure, his breath got stolen all over again.
There his friend was, all dimple-smiled and bright, yet so different his eyes watered. Time had slipped from his grasp more than he'd imagined, leaving behind that young boy and giving someone different in return. Someone familiar, yes, but… not the same. Broader shoulders. Taller posture. A stance that told of experience, not of childish playfulness. A voice so much deeper and refined he felt himself shrivel up and die.
Yet, he was revived by that gentle touch, as lukewarm as it felt to his frozen skin.
“Hey, long time no see.”
But he couldn't answer, he couldn't look into those warm eyes. All he was capable of was to lean into that careful touch—careful for him. Not of him. Never that.
“It hurts, Hyung. It hurts.” – the words left him in a quiet whisper, barely louder than the gentle breeze outside.
“I know, dear. I know.”
That was all Chan said, and he didn't need to hear more. It was enough. More than enough. This warm presence he was given, briefly no doubt, could soothe his aching soul for now. Just for a few minutes.
Just enough for him to feel his blood flow again and the air return to his lungs.
-.-.-
The relief Dal had been granted never lasted long, if at all. Chan was always called away after a few minutes, forced out of the room by guards equipped by rune-bound weapons.
The exact same ones that protected everyone else from him, right in this prison of his.
It only hurt him so because of that damn bittersweet smile his hyung always sported, as if it hurt Chan more than it hurt him to be separated. To see him like this, locked away for everyone's sake.
Here, time existed not, he'd realised. Not when his mind was eaten by agony, by unbelievable visions he refused to share or believe. They'd arrived as mere glances into the future, at first, only to come back as elaborate nightmares that left his head pounding and his heart screaming out in pain. Each one was worse than the last, telling of wars against the heavens themselves. Of bloodshed enough to drown the entire world and him along with it.
Sometimes he wondered if the pain, the ice and wounds he endlessly harboured, were there to train him for the visions of the future. To ensure he could endure them, or if they had a different purpose.
He wouldn't know.
Not now, and perhaps not ever.
Between Chan's brief visits he ached for more with each passing day, he roamed the ancient books he'd been left with whenever his body allowed. Each movement of the page hurt, frozen veins splintering, only to be mended within that same agonising breath. The same breath that was nothing but mist before him, clouding his sight for a mere second.
Spells of forgotten eras hid behind the chilled puffs of air, written in a language nobody knew—all except for him.
No doubt the work of the god had cursed him into this duty, who this kingdom worshiped while his hatred festered in silence. Whose symbol was everywhere, within and outside these accursed walls. Who Chan was supposed to devote his life to, who he was meant to serve, except…
No, he didn't want to remember those terrifying visions right now.
Book after book covered his desk as he read through them, only for them to start piling on the floor once he had no room left. Whenever Chan visited, the male always brought more with himself, yet their brief conversations were never about what they hid. His friend, the prince—or rather, the king, made sure to never talk about such matters.
It still felt as if they'd never been separated, and for that, he was eternally grateful. It was what kept him going, what gave him strength to get out of bed when his bones froze stiff and his skin broke open in icy ravines.
When he finally found something, a ray of hope amidst this endless suffering, of ice and a future too disturbing to even imagine, he didn't hesitate. There was nothing that could stop him from finally breaking free, albeit for a moment, he stopped.
What would happen to Chan?
It was a question foolish to ask: he knew already. He'd seen it countless times, this particular vision haunting him, as if a warning.
So, he waited. Just for a bit longer, just to enjoy Chan's undisturbed presence that much longer. Just so he could etch their chats into the folds of his brain. Just so he could see those dimpled smiles once more, accompanied by a laughter he'd long to hear for eternity.
He had to.
Just for a little while longer.
He was selfish like that.
-.-.-
It was hard to exist like this. To provide what the future was bound to be to the person he was fated doom. To the person who led an entire kingdom into its death. Just for him. Just because of his selfish actions.
All because he was too weak to bear the pain, the mental strain, the cruelty of it all.
Why had their god chosen him? Was it all to show him the consequences of his actions sooner? To torment him? Or was it His revenge for what was to come?
He didn't know, and he wouldn't find out either. Not in this lifetime, and not in the next.
All he knew was that soon, after his lips fell closed and the glowing of the spellbook stopped, a familiar figure would burst through the door. Worried. Shocked. Crestfallen.
Broken.
The future he'd seen so many times slowly became reality as he finished the spell, the enormous amount of chilled mana he housed settling around him like a vice. Something had been cut inside him as it settled, permanently disconnected from him at last.
He couldn't even feel relieved anymore, the spell's effect now binding him forever.
Just like he'd predicted, the door fell open and in stormed Chan, rushing up to him in worry. Books were pushed aside to make way, as his room had been consumed by them. Perhaps he'd been too desperate to search for his answer, but he'd gotten it, and that was all that mattered.
“Dal! What happened? Are you okay? We felt the entire castle shake. What did you do?” – the questions fell from Chan's lips, warm hands leading his shoulders so their eyes could meet.
The smile that stretched his lips was genuine, yet the emotion that should have created it was missing from his chest.
“It doesn't hurt anymore.”
Shock painted Chan's features at his answer, the same one he'd seen so many times. It was soon washed away by confusion, desperation, warm fingers cradling his frost-kissed face now.
He wanted to lean into them, but even their warmth felt different now.
Hollow.
“It, it doesn't hurt? But how? What happened?” – there was hope in Chan's voice, he could hear it, the male clinging to it.
He would soon shatter it into tiny pieces.
“I found a spell. It took away the pain.”
“The pain? Dal, Dal no, no no nonono. Don't tell me you—Oh Sol. Tell me you didn't. You know those are ancient spells, asking for more than they give.” – Chan's voice wavered, yet the chest he was hugged to held strong – “What else did it take? Tell me.”
Should he say it? Try to fight against the fate he'd seen so many times, dooming not just this kingdom but his precious hyung along with it? Was there even a point in trying to prevent it?
No.
There was none, and so his lips opened, skin crackling as it splintered open.
“Everything.”
It was strange, to remain there, hugged and cradled close, unable to cry or feel sad while the dearest person in his life fell apart. There was nothing left for him to feel, all emotions taken by the spell he'd performed willingly. Gone were his days filled with misery, being a misformed tool of the gods thrown aside all because they could.
In return, he'd doom them, cursing this entire world.
The cold touch of the Moon swapped the warm rays of the Sun as they remained there, the ruler of a doomed kingdom losing hope with each tear he shed. Dal took each and every single one, letting them soak into him, branding his frozen skin with crystalline droplets that looked nothing more than minuscule gems. They glistened under the soon-godless sky, determining their hopeless fate with each one that joined the others.
And as Chan's sobs withered away, vengeful determination bursting forth instead of hopelessness, the last nail was hammered into their coffin.
“Look down upon us, Sol, from your throne of gold. Look at your poor subjects who you'd betrayed, who you'd abandoned. Look down upon us for as long as you can, until the day my hatred dims the Sun itself.”
No matter how tightly he was grasped, there was nothing but hollowness within his chest. A bittersweet nothingness as he watched Chan wage war against the very foundation of their world, bathed in tears and hatred deep enough to curse them both.
All just to avenge the fate he'd been dealt in this life.
Back to business, I had to crash out but I had enough time to think about what I should do as I was forced into bed rest. If that werewolf fic I have been writing keeps growing, I will turn it into a long series. If not, well, then you guys will get it faster in 2-3 pieces. Depends on how big I want the chapters to be.
