Chapter Text
❄◌✴︎˚Chan｡✴︎◌❄
All his life, Prince Chan has been told how beautiful he is with his ebony hair, his plump lips as red as a rose, and his skin as white as snow.
But even so there are more important things to concern himself with. He does his best to be a good person and cultivate his interests, knowing that beauty can only take you so far. Plus, regardless of others’ praise, Chan trusts his family above all, and his stepmother is always willing to point out his flaws. By age 26, Chan’s father has been gone for over ten years, and he is sure that most compliments he receives are a result of his status as future king rather than his appearance.
One day, he’s called to the stable and runs into the famed Huntsman. While he tends to be away from court for long periods at a time, he’s always made time for the prince. Chan has always loved to hear about the adventures he goes on, hunting for unique and mysterious game. So, when the man invites him on a stroll through the woods, Chan is more than happy to accompany him, as he has many times before. Once the palace walls are out of sight, the Huntsman quiets and turns to him.
Chan smiles up at him, about to ask why they were stopping, when the man roughly grabs him by the throat and thrusts him back against the trunk of a tree. Chan struggles as he’s lifted off his feet; he scratches at the hand holding him in a futile attempt to loosen the grip. The Huntsman’s other fist raises, a large hunting knife in hand.
“Please!” Chan barely chokes out. Tears streaming down his face, he uses what little air he has left to beg for his life. “D-don’t kill me!”
The Huntsman stares down at him, and Chan thinks he might see a hint of empathy in his eyes, though his sight is already starting to darken.
This is it, Chan resigns himself to this fate. He lets his arms fall, his legs go still. He knows this isn’t something the Huntsman decided to do on his own. He has no reason to. It’s not his fault. With the last of his strength, Chan meets the Huntsman’s eyes and gives him a watery smile.
In the next second, Chan’s feet hit the ground. Unable to hold his own weight, he folds in on himself. The Huntsman kneels beside him, actually rubbing his back as Chan gulps in breath after breath.
After a few moments, he realizes the other man is speaking. “I’m so sorry, my Prince. The Queen, she said I had to do it! But you don’t deserve to die like this, not by my hand.”
Chan tries to raise his head and is helped along by the Huntsman, who shifts to face him fully. The hands that were poised to kill him, mere moments ago, cup his cheeks delicately.
The Queen? No, he thinks, not just the Queen, but my stepmother. My stepmother tried to have me killed. How could she do such a thing? Why? What have I done to deserve this?
“How could I harm such a beautiful man?” The Huntsman nearly sobs. His thumbs gently swipe the tears still falling from Chan’s eyes. “A man so kind as to offer me a smile as I take the life from him. I cannot. You must flee. The Queen will not stop until you are gone. I will tell her I finished the job, but you must go and never return.”
Chan finally starts to feel like himself again, no more stars swimming in his vision. He looks at this man, his would-be killer, and all he can feel is thankful. He clearly was more than capable of killing Chan, and he chose not to. He’s offering him the chance at a life that his stepmother would deny him. He swallows, and immediately regrets the sting of it in his damaged throat.
“Thank you,” he rasps. “Thank you for sparing me.”
He allows the Huntsman to help him to his feet. He only wobbles a bit before trying to take a step back, forgetting the tree at his back.
“I do not deserve your thanks,” the Huntsman murmurs, head dipping low. “Go now. Find the spring to the east and follow it a ways until you’re a good distance from the palace. I’ll do what I can for you there.”
Chan simply nods in return and stumbles in the direction the man indicates. When he’s been walking a few minutes, he hears the squeal of a boar, likely taken down by his would-be executioner. He shudders.
He also realizes that if he runs into a wild boar, the Huntsman’s kindness could be all for naught. The beasts are dangerous and territorial. Chan speeds up the best he can in hopes of finding somewhere to hide and camp for the night soon.
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Shelter is harder to find than Chan had hoped. He ends up climbing a tree beside the river in hopes of avoiding any nighttime predators. Sleep has never come easily to Chan, not since before his father died. Feeling as he does, he doesn’t even pretend to try to sleep. He sits on his branch, alert and listening for any sign of pursuit or wild animals.
The Huntsman told him that he would cover for him, but what if the man had another change of heart? Or if the Queen didn’t believe him with no body to show for it? It’s not worth the risk of letting his guard down.
Come morning, Chan is exhausted. He climbs down the tree just after first light and rinses his face in the chilly water. He continues his trek, unsure of what he’ll do if he can’t find shelter tonight.
Luckily, Chan enjoys exercising, so his walk through the woods is less uncomfortable than it could be. After a while, he begins singing to himself to pass the time, glad that being choked doesn’t seem to have caused any lasting damage. He picks up an audience when he takes a break around midday. A few birds, a squirrel, and even a bunny all stop, seeming to just enjoy his song. On the next, the birds accompany him, harmonizing and adding a melody to support his lyrics.
He loves it.
Soon, though, he realizes he should get moving again, especially considering the growling of his stomach. He turns to the animals, nodding to each, including the fox, chipmunks, and deer that seem to have joined the party as well. “Goodbye, friends. I’ve so enjoyed your company, but I need to keep walking now. I must find food and somewhere safe to sleep.”
There’s a buzz amongst them, almost as if the animals are communicating with each other. When Chan stands to get on his way, the deer moves into his path, and he’s pretty sure she shakes her head ‘no.’ He’s befuddled, unsure if he should try to side-step the doe, or wait until she’s ready to move. A few squirrels run up to him next, their little arms full of a few nuts and berries. They hold them out like an offering to him, before setting them at his feet.
Profoundly confused now, Chan sinks down to sit on the ground once more. “These are for me?” he asks the critters, and this time he’s positive that the doe nods her head in assent. He reaches out tentatively and takes the food. Tears welling in his eyes, he offers them all a radiant smile. “Thank you! This is so kind.”
He recognizes the berries, thankfully, and is sure they’re safe to eat. He struggles to shell the nuts, and one of the chipmunks appears, taking one and chewing until the gap is big enough to pry it open. Chan sheepishly trades him for the nut in his hand, so he can eat the open one. The other chipmunks join the first so that they can prepare the rest for him.
Once his meager meal is done, Chan looks around at all his woodland friends. He thanks them again, and asks, “You don’t know of a nice cave or abandoned hut in the area that I could sleep in tonight, do you?”
Glances are exchanged among the animals, and a fox comes to stand in front of Chan. He throws his head toward the right and turns around. He takes two steps before looking back at Chan.
“Oh!” Chan scrambles to his feet and looks around. “I’m supposed to follow you, right?”
The fox yips softly and starts to walk. Chan watches long enough for the doe to get impatient; she nudges him in the back with her head as if to say ‘yes, dummy, now hop to it!’
So Chan follows. Some of the animals follow along with him while others scurry off to do whatever else they planned to do with their days. Chan sings another song, hoping that his new friends will accept it as payment for their help. The birds continue to sing along, and after an hour or so, they come upon a cottage.
Chan knocks on the door, but receives no answer. An encouraging look from the fox leads him to turn the door handle. With a small bow of his head, the fox trots off, and Chan enters the house.
The interior looks well lived in, if a bit messy. Chan wanders through the house in search of any occupants and finds none. It's larger than he'd expect for a house out in the middle of the nowhere. He decides to wait for them to return and ask if he can stay until he figures out his next move. The nearest kingdom is a ways away, and he doubts he could just keep walking until he gets there, even with the help of the forest’s fauna.
So he waits.
And waits.
And waits.
Come nightfall, Chan is incredibly bored. He’s spent so much of the day sitting and taking in the cottage with it's ample seating and plenty of knick knacks. His stomach is rumbling, and he has no idea if anyone actually lives here at present. There is some dust on the shelves, and while it doesn’t seem like it has been long since people had been here, that doesn’t mean they intend to return. That in mind, he decides that looking around is not so much snooping as it is investigating his environment.
He starts in the living room, looking for anything that might indicate a date. When he doesn’t find anything, he heads to the kitchen. The dishes in the sink don’t seem that old, but they don’t smell great and neither does the full trash. The cabinets are well stocked, and nothing appears to be spoiled. Seeing that makes Chan’s stomach twist in hunger again.
He glances at the door then at the quickly dwindling daylight out the window and makes a decision. He takes out a small a bit of bread, and a few pieces of dried meat. After his lunch of nuts and berries, it feels like a feast. He takes his plate over to the sink and decides to do all of the dishes to thank the homeowners for sharing their food, especially since he didn’t give them the chance to offer or decline.
After the dishes, he takes out the trash, finding where they put it outside fairly easily despite the dark. Then while he’s at it, he decides to straighten up a bit; there are utensils, spices, and other kitchen paraphernalia strewn about the room all willy nilly, and Chan can’t help but want to put everything right. Those instincts lead him to straightening things up in the living room as well, and before he knows it, the whole lower level of the cottage is in much better shape than when he found it.
Chan finds that he’s tired, both in body and mind. It may not be wise to sleep in an unknown person’s home, but he trusts that the fox brought him here for a good reason and that the owner will appreciate the work he did.
So, Chan lays down on the couch. Despite the exhaustion, he doesn’t actually think he’ll sleep anyway. His thoughts are consumed with the woman who’d raised him since his father died, albeit she’d never been particularly affectionate, or even particularly nice to him. Still, she was his only family, and she’d arranged to have him murdered. He doesn’t even understand why. He agreed to let her lead as regent until at least his 30th birthday, and even then, they were to do so in tandem, as she taught him the things you can only know by doing. Did she hate him that much? Why?
These questions and more swirl around his head, yet somehow he manages to drift off just a few minutes after laying down.
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