#I don't know why the graphic looks so tiny and crappy :

[hardly-an-escape]

uneasy is the head that wears a crown

Square: B4 - Secretly Royal Rating: G Word Count: 1680 Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Tags: secretly royal, Ruritanian romance, slightly cracky, call it crack-adjacent, royal Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling throughout history Summary: In which Dream learns something new about Hob's past. Read on AO3 | fill for @dreamlingbingo

“Hob.”

“Mm?”

“A question.”

“Mm.”

“Why do you have a crown?”

They were in Hob’s storage unit – the nice one, the luxurious, secretive climate-controlled one that was paid for by an equally luxurious and secretive Swiss bank account. It was nearly time for him to disappear again, to choose a new name and a new story and a new home, and he was kneeling in front of several banker’s boxes’ worth of documents and financial statements, gathering what he’d need. Not without a tinge of sadness, as always; no matter how many lifetimes he lived, Hob always found it bittersweet to cross that bridge, leave one life behind and start the next.

This time was different, though. This time, Dream would be waiting for him on the other side. This time, whoever Hob Gadling was about to become would not be alone. He would have a partner. A husband.

Hob looked up at that husband now. Dream was holding open a velveteen case, revealing an unprepossessing circle of beaten gold, somewhat tarnished, embellished with rivets and crosses of silver.

“Ah,” he said. “That crown. Well. I have it because it’s mine.”

“And how came you by it?”

“That depends on who you ask,” said Hob, sitting back. Dream settled on the floor beside him, jewel case on his lap, ready for a story. “I was told it was the divine right of kings. But there’s also a strong argument to be made for simple nepotism.”

Dream raised one elegant eyebrow, the universal shorthand for do go on.

“Okay. You remember when we first met,” said Hob, “in the White Horse?”

“1389. How could I forget?”

The smokey interior. The smell of livestock and weak ale. It’s almost as real to Hob now as it was back then, despite the intervening centuries.

“What did you think I was, back then? Who did you think I was?”

“A soldier. A peasant. Perhaps a fool,” said Dream, a fond note to his voice.

“Well. What if I told you that I… was… actually the crown prince of the kingdom of Ruritania?” said Hob in a rush.

“Ruritania,” echoed Dream. “And what, exactly, was the crown prince of said kingdom doing in the White Horse?”

“An excellent question. Today they’d probably call it something like a rumspringa, I suppose,” said Hob. “A couple of years away from my family and my duties. To grow as a person, learn a new language and something about the wider world.”

There was a bit of a pause.

“You are… not joking,” said Dream finally.

“I am not. You haven’t heard of Ruritania? Not that surprising, I suppose,” said Hob. “It was very small, and it didn’t exist for very long, all things considered. But it was technically a kingdom… and I was, technically, heir to the throne.”

“Perhaps you had better begin at the beginning.”

So Hob did.

He explained how his great-grandfather had been the ruler of a tiny little duchy nestled between Germany and the Netherlands. How his grandfather, taking advantage of a temporary power vacuum in the region, had declared himself king, and how the burgeoning kingdom was so very tiny that nobody had really cared. How his father had been sent abroad as a young man to experience the world, and sent his son abroad in turn as well.

Young Prince Hrodebert had fallen in with a band of soldiers and made his way to England, in disguise as a common mercenary, relying on his wits and his sword for the first time in his life and having a marvelous time.

“Ah, those were the days. Everything was so exciting, so free,” recalled Hob, somewhat mistily. “And it’s not even that things had been that restrictive back home, you know, we were so small that the pomp and circumstance of court wasn’t all that pompous – hell, I’ve taught in lecture halls that were bigger than our great hall. But it really was different, living out among people. Made me think about the world differently.”

“Do you expect me to believe. That the boastful bandit I met in 1389 was actually a prince in disguise?”

“Sounds like something out of a fairy tale, doesn’t it?” Hob grinned. “But… yeah? Is that so hard to accept?”

“It is not that it is hard to accept. Merely surprising. But if I have learned anything in the past two centuries,” said Dream, “it is that the limits of human ingenuity are nearly infinite.”

“That’s certainly true enough.”

Hob continued his tale, of a prince’s last year of freedom and his return to country and duty; of, later, a father’s death, and a coronation, and a settling into the small measure of power a small kingdom allowed. How he’d tried to be a good king, as good as he knew how to be; how he’d done his best to apply his experiences among the more common folk. He had been, if not beloved, at least well-regarded.

And then – how the whispers had started. The rumors; the murmurs in quiet corners. That the king didn’t seem to be aging – had you noticed? Not a new grey hair on him since he came back from his travels. How people had started to suggest, ever so quietly, that Prince Hrodebert had, perhaps, made a deal with some English demon, or otherwise, somehow, come back wrong.

“So, yeah. Ended up filling my pockets from the treasury and scarpering from my own bloody kingdom in the middle of the night. I think my cousin Irminhart took the throne after I left – or was it Irminheri? Fat lot of good it did him, either way. The whole kingdom didn’t last much longer.”

“And you? What did you do?” asked Dream, uninterested in the fates of European micronations.

“Well, I realized pretty quickly that they’d had a point, about the not aging thing. That was when I remembered this posh, poncy fella I’d met in a pub in London who’d said something about never dying. So I made my way back to England, maybe ten years after the turn of the century, and met him again, and here we are.”

“Hmm.”

Hob tsked, leaned over, and ran the backs of his knuckles gently down the line of Dream’s jaw.

“Oh, now, I know that hmm. What is it, love?”

“I am perturbed. To think that I have been unaware of such an important part of your past,” admitted Dream. “And perhaps… upset. That you have not shared it with me before now.”

“Important? I suppose it was,” said Hob thoughtfully. “It’s funny, you’d think after almost 700 years it’d be easier to tell what was important – but I think it’s harder. Who’s to say that ruling Ruritania was more important than… I dunno, than working for Caxton? Than what I learned after being in the slave trade?”

He settled back against the shelf behind him and picked up Dream’s hand, idly lacing their fingers together.

“I guess eventually I figured out that it’s all important. At different times, for different reasons. And of course if everything’s important, then nothing is important,” he laughed. “But that’s beautiful too, I think.”

He brought Dream’s hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss on his pale knuckles.

“I hope you’re not too cross that I didn’t tell you. Honestly, by the time we met again in 1489, I’d almost forgotten all about it myself,” he said. “The world was so full of brilliant new things, the stodgy old kingdom of my father and grandfather was just… boring.”

“Still,” said Dream. “You might have mentioned you were of royal blood. To brag. If nothing else.”

“And bargained my throne away to a fairy, maybe? Not on your life. You forget, darling, just how woefully uninformed I was at that point. For all I knew, my immortality was contingent on me being a simple English peasant. And I wasn’t about to endanger that,” Hob winked, “not when my meetings with such a handsome stranger could have been on the line.”

“You stray from your tale. The crown?” said Dream pointedly.

“Yes,” said Hob. “My crown.”

The crown, he explained, had vanished into antiquity for centuries. After the ill-fated cousin had cast his lot with the wrong side in one of the interminable European skirmishes of the 15th century, Ruritania had been absorbed into a series of small Germanic principalities, and her peoples and her resources, including the royal treasures, had been totted up and divided amongst new rulers.

“I found the crown again in 1890 or ‘91, somewhere thereabouts,” said Hob. “I think it was a museum in Berlin, or maybe it was Bremen – but I recognized it as soon as I saw it. It took a sizeable donation to convince them to part with it, but I was pretty good at the ‘wealthy and eccentric English gent’ bit by then. They thought I was crazy, it was worthless as a piece of history – no provenance, no way to authenticate it. But I just… had to have it.”

He’d been in a bit of a nostalgic phase, back then, very reflective on the past. On what had made him the man he was, on his missteps and mistakes.

“Because of me? Our parting, a few years prior?”

“Partly, yes. But it’s also good, for a man to take that kind of stock of himself every once in a while.”

“Did you consider giving up your crown to be a mistake?”

“No,” said Hob instantly. “No, never. Even apart from the immortality, it has never occurred to me that I would have preferred to live out my life as the king of Ruritania.”

“I am strangely glad to hear that.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. It does not… fit. With who I know you to be.”

“Or maybe you’re just jealous,” said Hob teasingly.

He wound an arm around Dream’s shoulder and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Maybe,” he murmured in his husband’s ear, “the Prince of Stories is a little miffed that technically, he’s the the one who married up.”

green = complete, orange = WIP

[bt5bby]

Hello 👋🏻

I will spare you the long reason why this story took me forever… but I finally got it into the editing website I use which was my biggest hurdle for 2 months. 😅 (sorry if it’s a bit disjointed too)

Anyway, here is Namjoonie’s story… Lonely.

Warning ⚠️ - Graphic child birth, Mpreg, mentions of rape and sexual slavery(kinda), mention of threats/violence, sick children.

————————————————————————

Namjoon heaved against the bed posts. His body was ready to give in and pass out, but he knew he couldn't. He had to continue to work hard, holding his legs in the correct position and using all his strength.

Oh, how he wished he had someone else here. He didn't want to do this alone. He wanted someone holding his hand, encouraging him, telling him how well he was doing and that it was nearly over. He wished he didn't have to do this in his crappy apartment, hours away from anyone he knew.

He wanted to be at a hospital, safe and secure. People tell him what to do and how to do it. He wanted to ensure everything would be ok, but he wasn't at a hospital. He didn't have anyone around him to help, and he didn't know if everything was ok. He was alone, giving birth to his baby in a dank apartment in a city far away from his home.

He screamed again, feeling the pain of a contraction. He had been at it for hours, pushing as hard as he could but not finding any real progress. When the pain stopped, he laid his head back again, struggling to catch his breath between sobs.

All he could do was cry. Cry and wait for the next contraction, which wasn't far away, and then start pushing again. The pain was worse than he imagined, but he was determined to do this. He chose to keep his baby, and now he would bring it to life, even if it killed him.

He pleaded with it internally as if the baby could hear him while in his body. 'Please come out. I can't take much more!' He screamed again, the next contraction clenching his muscles to push the baby out of his body.

Before he was in the mid stages of his labour, he walked around the house, thinking just how lucky he was that his baby was tiny. The nurse he saw last told him that he was a bit underweight.

Namjoon regretted doing all he could to ensure his baby was born at an average weight for those last two months. He was sure that the baby must have grown into a bowling ball or something because as he felt the head starting to push his hole open, he swore he nearly tore it in half.

The scream that left his mouth was so shrill he was sure it had set off the dog 10 blocks over. Namjoon was just thankful that the place he lived in was so poor that none cared enough to call the police. They would all just ignore him.

With the next push, Namjoon felt his hole stretch around the broadest part of the baby's head. He must be so close to crowning. Namjoon was sure he could feel the top of the baby's head on the next push. He wept more, hearing another ding from his phone beside him.

He had turned off all GPS and signals, routing the location to a different place every few days to make it look like he was constantly moving, but he kept it on. He had never changed his number, just in case he needed something. Just in case he decided to go back.

The noise drew his attention away momentarily, and he looked at the phone. As much as he had it, he didn't really use it. In fact, it had been several weeks since he unlocked it. He didn't need to do everything he could on his phone; he could do it on his laptop, which was much harder to track. He looked at the phone screen light up, seeing a message from another of his old band members.

They had been piling up for a long time, showing all on the notifications board on his phone. Six individual chats pinging away over time. He had read each one and never replied, but he read them all. They made his heart hurt every time, but he wouldn't stop. He liked to torture himself. He cried a little harder reading the message from his friends.

"I still don't even know if you are reading these, but it makes me feel better." The text read. "I don't know what happened, and I don't know why, but know that wherever you are, I'm always here, right where you left me."

Namjoon screamed again, the next contraction ripping through his body again. He sent a hand down to feel between his legs, the baby's head was now sticking out slightly, and he could feel the hair on its head. "I miss you, and wherever you are, I hope you're safe and happy." He finished.

Namjoon hiccuped his sobs from his chest. He tried so hard to calm his breathing, but now the added stress of the message really made him feel lightheaded. Just thinking about the boy made Namjoon's heart flutter.

He was at a loss for words, but that could have been the intense pain making him numb to all thinking. He mentally replied to the message, pouring his heart out until the next contraction came. This time Namjoon pushed his very hardest. He felt slightly more determined to get his baby out.

The boys had always strengthened him, even when they weren't there. With the force of the push, he managed to get most of the head out. He felt a tear as the baby reached the widest part of its skull, but he powered through it. It didn't even hurt, not compared to the rest of it. He doubled down, his contractions seeming much quicker after such a hard push, the pressure coming again.

Namjoon felt the baby's nose pop out, pushing past his tight rim. He was also relieved that the baby hadn't inherited his chin. He barely felt it pop out. Once the whole head was out, Namjoon gave himself a rest. He had seen many birth videos online, and most of them got the mother to wait after pushing the head out, not pushing in that contraction, but god, was it hard.

Every fibre in his body pleaded with him to get the big intrusion out of his body. "Ok, just a few more." He cheered to himself out loud.

He breathed through the first contraction, struggling to keep his pushes at bay, but he did it. Now it was time for the baby to get the fuck out. He pushed as hard as he could. He gently turned the baby, angling the shoulders to not hurt the arms.

Namjoon had been mortified when he saw some babies come out with dislocated shoulders. He couldn't let that happen. He would keep his baby safe.

The final contractions really hit hard for the once-great leader. He screamed for the next three, pushing as hard as possible. He felt the small baby slide out of his body, and a loud wail erupted from the tiny creature.

Namjoon sobbed a little harder, hearing his baby. He wasn't sure if it was relief or just his emotional outlet, but when he reached forward and picked the blood-covered thing up, he and it just sat for a few minutes, crying.

The new father took a few deep breaths to calm himself down and started to rock his baby. He still wasn't finished yet, and he knew it. He had to push the placenta out, cut the umbilical cord and make sure he wasn't bleeding to death all before he could stay with his baby, but calming them down for a few seconds wouldn't hurt.

He waited until the crying died and then sat the small thing to his side on a towel he had placed beforehand. He wrapped them up, so they were warm and then went back to pushing the placenta out. It took him another few minutes, but once he was sure it was mostly out, he used the cord to pull the rest, letting out a tiny wail once it left his body. He was so sore. Everything ached, and he was so tired.

All he wanted to do was cry. Cry and hug his baby and have someone hug him. God, he missed his friends and his family. He didn't want to be alone, but he had to. The baby let out another whimper, and he quickly picked it back up. He'd come to realise he was never alone.

Finally, he could have a good look at his little bundle. He looked down at the baby, cooing instantly. The small little nose, soft lips, and puffy eyes were all adorable to him. He moved the towel to get a good look at the baby.

He had never found out the gender when he got his scan. He felt bad for neglecting the health problems of not checking the baby properly, but he couldn't risk going to the hospital more than once.

They would report him if they picked up on who he really was. He would have to go back, and he couldn't. So now was the first time he would know his baby's gender. He took a deep breath, trying not to think about how creepy it felt to look at his baby's privates purposefully and look.

He let out a happy cry seeing his baby girl. He had a little girl. He moved her closer to his chest, making sure she remained warm. "Hello, baby." He chuckled wetly. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm your Appa."

He didn't know whether to call himself an Appa, but he couldn't see himself as anything else. This wasn't supposed to be his life, but with his little girl in his arms, he couldn't regret it.

-

It took Namjoon a few days to get used to life with a baby now. It was hard for him because he was doing it alone.

He was sleep deprived, hungry from not having time or energy to go out to get food for himself, and a bit grotty because nipping off to shower couldn't happen, but he was trying his best. He had been sore the first two days, just staying around his room, looking after the baby and laying in bed.

He couldn't really do much anyways because he couldn't leave. He barely kept the two alive for the first week, but things felt better for the second week.

He set the little girl down for a sleep on the seventh day and quickly nipped in for a shower. The feeling of water on his skin was amazing but short-lived, as he had to get back out before she woke up. He ordered groceries online and delivered them to the apartment, and once he managed all that, he got a good night's sleep. His little girl had been wonderful the whole time.

He was so happy with her until the third week arrived. It started off on the Tuesday night of the third week. The little thing seemed fussy throughout her dinner, making Namjoon anxious.

She didn't have much, and then she was quiet until the two had been asleep for about 35 minutes. A loud wail emitted from her tiny lungs, alerting her Appa.

Namjoon shot awake, bolting to the baby. "Hey, honey, what's wrong?" He cooed, picking her up. He checked her nappy, seeing if it needed to be changed. No, so he figured she was hungry again. She hadn't eaten before, so he tried to feed her, but she didn't take to that either. He frowned. Maybe she needed to burp again?

He laid her over his shoulder, patting her back, but again nothing came up. Finally, he figured she just wanted some soothing. He began to rock her back and forth, swaying his hips to keep her calm. "Shhhh baby, Appa's got you." He said sweetly.

She continued to wail until she was exhausted, pretty much passing out. Namjoon sighed and laid her down in the crib. He wondered what must have been wrong, but he figured maybe she was just fussy tonight. Maybe something disagreed with her. He noted to keep an eye on her the next day and then went back to sleep.

Namjoon started to panic on the third day of this. For the second day, she seemed to be mostly fine like the day before, just a bit whiny. On the third day, however, she really started to fuss.

Right from the moment she awoke at 5 in the morning, she started wailing. Namjoon rushed to her side, quick to soothe her, offering food and cuddles. The baby quieted but never really stopped her whining.

Every little thing seemed to set her off, and she would scream loudly, ensuring everyone on the whole level could hear her.

Namjoon was starting to become stressed and worried. Was there something wrong with his baby? Had he hurt her in some way? He thought he was doing well. He tried his hardest not to become upset but lost the battle.

He managed to get her down for a small nap in the middle of the day, probably out of exhaustion again, allowing him time to calm himself, but it hit its peak at around 6 in the night.

She screamed and screamed, crying and wriggling around in his arms. Her little face was scrunched up, with tears running down her red face. He felt like he had hit a wall, his emotions bursting as he cried. "I'm sorry! I don't know what you need." He sobbed along with her.

He was rocking back and forth again, trying to soothe her with a dummy, but she kept spitting it out.

"I've tried everything." Namjoon pleaded with the baby. He was beyond worried about his little one, the stress eating him inside. The final straw was a loud thumping on the wall beside his bedroom. "Shut that fucking baby up, or I'll come and shut it up for you!" A person yelled. Namjoon only cried harder along with his baby.

Great, even the druggies think he's a bad parent.

He had to do something for her. She was clearly suffering for some reason, and he couldn't fix it alone. He had avoided the hospital at all costs, but now he had to take the risk. He couldn't lose his baby.

Namjoon packed a bag of overnight things for him and the baby and then strapped her into a carrier. He pulled out his phone, which he had turned off for several days, and called for an Uber. He ignored the pings on his phone as he quickly ordered the car to take him to the hospital and then went to the curb to wait.

It was now in the middle of winter, so he wrapped the baby in two blankets while dressing her in a thick onesie, a beanie, little mittens and some thick socks. He pulled the cover-up over the carrier, ensuring no wind blew into her face.

He had an old jacket on. It was a bit tight as he still had a lot of baby fat, but he didn't care about himself. He would take his jacket off if his baby needed more cover.

Thankfully, the man quickly arrived, helping Namjoon strap the car seat in and start to drive. The car was warm inside, so Namjoon pulled the blankets down to try and calm the baby again. Her cries were still loud but not as bad as before.

"Is she ok?" The driver asked worriedly. Namjoon sniffled. "I don't know. I'm gonna take her to the hospital." He admitted. The man nodded, telling Namjoon he would get them there quickly but safely.

Namjoon greatly appreciated it and then went back to comforting his girl. The man kept true to his word, and they were at the hospital no less than 20 minutes later.

Namjoon thanked the man, giving him a nice tip for being so helpful and then rushed into the ICU. He moved to the reception and placed the carrier on the desk. "Hello, how may I help you?" The lady asked.

Namjoon looked at her with a red face and teary eyes. "Hi, I need someone to check up on my baby. She has been crying nonstop all day, and I don't know what she needs. She won't eat as much, only sleeps if she's worn out completely, and she just doesn't stop crying." He rushed, feeling very agitated. He wanted her looked after right now.

"Can you tell me how old she is?" The lady asked, standing up to look in at the small baby, crying in the carrier. "She's just under four weeks old," Namjoon said. "And was she born ok? Early or anything?"

Namjoon didn't know, but he was sure she was born around when she was supposed to be. "She was born around 37 weeks." He admitted. The lady said that was fine.

She looked over at the little one, not seeing anything wrong, but she could tell that the crying wasn't just a hungry or tired cry.

"Alright, have you been to this hospital before?" Namjoon stilled. He would have to give their information. "No, I haven't." He said.

The lady nodded. "Ok, I'll need you to fill out some forms and get some information about your previous consultant so we can cross-check for a better diagnosis, but I have put you through to the NICU, and they will look after her immediately."

Namjoon nodded thankfully to the lady. He grabbed the board with the forms on it and then followed her to the NICU. A nurse approached them once they entered the wing and took Namjoon's baby from him.

"Follow me, sweetie. I'll check on her." The lady smiled at Namjoon. He did as told and moved into the room, sitting on a chair anxiously as the lady began to assess the baby. "You fill out those forms, and I'll do a quick exam of this little one." She smiled down at the little girl.

Namjoon nodded and hesitantly began to fill the forms out. He knew he would have to show ID, so lying was pointless. He really just wanted his baby to be ok. He filled the form out quickly and then placed it to the side, moving to stand by his child.

"She seemed to have shallow breathing. Did you say she was born early?" The lady asked. Namjoon shook his head. "I'm fairly sure she was born around 37 weeks." The lady frowned. "And you said that she hasn't been feeding right either?" Namjoon nodded.

"She'll take for a little while and then stop. She's only had like 3 feeds in the last day." Namjoon worried. The nurse nodded and looked back down, putting on her stethoscope and listening to the baby's breathing. "How long has she been like this?" She asked.

Namjoon sighed. "She started to fuss two days ago, but only today has she been really bad. She ate fine most of the time, maybe briefly, but then stopped today."

The nurse took a mental note and then stood up. "It seems like she's got some respiratory problems. I'll need to take an X-ray of her chest to make sure nothing is stuck. I'll start her on some oxygen to keep her breathing normal. I'll need to ask some questions about your birth and history." The lady said.

Namjoon felt anxious, but he had to find out what was wrong. He would give all the information he needed to get his baby girl healthy again. The nurse left to set up the oxygen machine and hand in the forms Namjoon had filled out.

-

The nurse in reception filled out the information in the system. She looked over the previous physician's list and found it empty. She frowned, wondering why he would have left it empty. "I'm going back in now. Can you page me when the X-ray is available?" The other nurse said. The lady nodded and went back to her job.

-

Namjoon watched as the lady taped a breathing tube onto his baby's face, keeping the tube in her nose. "This will help. Then we can discover the main problem once she's back to normal breathing." The nurse smiled calmly at Namjoon, making him feel better. He thanked her, relieved.

"So, I have some questions about what might be wrong." Namjoon nodded and looked at the lady. "The birth, was it problematic in any way?" Namjoon hung his head.

"Yes, it was quite stressful." He admitted. The lady nodded. "Was there anything wrong with her at the time? No breathing problems. The cord wasn't around her throat?"

"No, she was fine when she was born." The lady scrunched her nose, thinking for a moment. "What did the doctor say at her first check-up?" She asked. Namjoon awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his girl.

"She hasn't gone for a check-up. This is her first one." He knew it sounded bad, but they had been doing well... The lady looked at him concerned.

"She was supposed to have a check at 3-5 days? Didn't your previous doctor tell you that when you got released after the birth?" Namjoon shook his head. "I had her at my house. T-there wasn't a nurse there." He made his tone soft, nearly a whisper.

"What?" She asked, a bit surprised at what she thought she had heard. "I had her by myself at my house. I couldn't make it to a doctor." The nurse was stunned. She wondered how the man had managed all by himself and why he hadn't taken the baby to a hospital sooner.

"I can't really afford it." He lied. He could afford it but didn't want to get turned in.

The nurse gave him a sympathetic look and then repeated the questions. "So would you say it was a hard birth? Sometimes a stressful birth can cause problems." The lady said. Namjoon shrugged shamefully.

He had never given birth before, so he didn't know if it was hard. "I'm sorry, I'm still new to all of this." He felt bad for not being more of a help.

The lady shook her head. "It's alright. The X-rays will give me a good hint at what is going on." She smiled. Namjoon nodded and relaxed, the lady leaving him until she had to come back for the X-rays.

He moved over to the seat by his baby, looking at her now calm little face. She was fast asleep, probably tired from being up for so long. He, too, decided to get some shut-eye, dozing off in the chair.

About half an hour later, the lady returned to the room, waking Namjoon up to go for the test. He stayed with his little girl the whole way, ensuring she was ok.

The lady was very happy with her behaviour throughout the procedure, giving her a little stuffed toy to sleep with. Namjoon smiled happily as his little girl was just about the same size as the teddy bear she was given.

"It will take a little while for the results to check them over. You can both return to the room. I'm sure you'll want a rest." Namjoon thanked the nurse again, returning to the room for more sleep.

He fed his little girl just before putting her to sleep again and then dozed himself. They managed a good two hours before the nurse came to get him.

"Thankfully, we have found nothing serious. I let you guys have a bit longer to sleep, knowing that you might need it." She smiled. Namjoon was incredibly thankful.

"She has asthma. It's not a bad case, either. It is probably just worse because of the cold. She will get prescribed a puffer and spacer. I'll teach you how to use it if you don't know. Give her one to two puffs when you think her breathing is getting shallow, and she should be good."

Namjoon sighed in relief. He could cry hearing the news. In fact, he did. Fat tears started to spill out of his eyes.

"She's not dying." He breathed heavily, burying his face into his hands with a relieved chuckle. The lady moved closer and touched his back, reassuringly rubbing it.

"No, your baby girl is just fine. In fact, apart from asthma, she's very healthy. She could be much worse from what you said about the birth." Namjoon looked up at the lady. "You're doing a great job at taking care of her." She smiled, and Namjoon couldn't hold the need to hug the girl back. He jumped off the bed and wrapped her in a hug.

The nurse chuckled and patted his back again. "Thank you so much." He sniffled, moving away once he realised how inappropriate he was being.

"It's ok. I assume it's stressful to be a new parent, especially a single one." She said with a soft smile. Namjoon nodded, slightly ashamed, but he knew she wasn't judging him. "Once I fill out the prescription, you both can go home." She smiled.

Namjoon was beyond ready to head back to his house. He was so happy that the lady was so nice, but he didn't want to risk being out in public more than necessary.

About an hour later, Namjoon said goodbye to the nurses and took his baby home. The kind lady smiled and waved him off before turning back to the other nurse at the desk.

"So we just send his reference to the outpatients." She said. The nurse nodded and brought up his file. Her face fell slightly, and she looked back to the nurse. "Wait, is that his name?" She asked.

"Yeah, Namjoon. Why?" She furrowed her brow at the weird reaction. "He's part of a missing persons case. We have an alert to look out for him." The nurse looked back out the glass windows after Namjoon. She felt bad for the guy. She didn't know the reasons for his life. Maybe he was kidnapped, maybe he was raped or domestically assaulted.

"We have mandatory reporting." The other lady said, looking sad as well. Both ladies sighed, knowing there was nothing they could do. It was law, and they had families to look after.

-

Namjoon had been having a much easier time with his little girl now. Just before she went to sleep, he would give her two puffs of the inhaler and ensure she was snuggled up in warm blankets. He bought an air humidifier to help with the cold air as soon as possible.

His little girl had been doing fine. He managed another week by himself with no problems until the crying returned. He worked through the first night, rocking her gently and calming her down.

He decided to sleep in the chair beside her cot that night, knowing she always slept better when he was around. He wondered whether she could sense his presence. Maybe she just needed to be with her daddy.

However, his idea was spoiled the next night when she wouldn't calm down, even when he held her. "No, please don't start this again. Appa is trying his hardest." Namjoon sighed, feeling his own emotion bubbling again.

He rocked, changed, fed, and gave her her puffer, yet she still wouldn't stop crying. "I'm sorry I'm not a good parent. I'm sorry I can't fix this." He cried again. He couldn't stop the thoughts if only he had help.

-

"Are you sure this was the address?" Jin asked, eyeing the building. It was run down and creepy looking. They had already heard 3 different sirens going off in the last 10 minutes, indicating how bad the neighbourhood was.

"Yes, this is where the investigator said he was." Yoongi sighed. The six boys all gave each other a nervous look and then headed into the stairwell to go up the floors.

"There isn't even an elevator? What type of place is this?" Taehyung whined as they approached the second set of stairs. Jungkook rolled his eyes at his lazy Hyung, joking about the older wanting the others to carry him up the stairs.

"Don't tempt me." Tae quipped back as they started onto the third set of stairs.

"God, Namjoon Hyung had to do this every day?" Jimin questioned as they topped the third. The others all shrugged, finding it not hard, just annoying.

"We still don't know this is him," Yoongi said cautiously. He didn't want to be a downer but wouldn't get his hopes up. They had been looking for Namjoon for the last 5 months. It had been a rough time, and hope could only last them so long. "Let's not hold our breath." He warned, finally coming to the top of the fourth stairs.

He looked around at the fifth floor they were now on. It was dinky and smelt of cigarettes and piss. He couldn't believe that their leader would live in a place like this. They all took a deep breath and then moved to the 5th apartment.

This was the address the investigator had given him, and as much as this place was horrible, he fucking hoped it was right. Only so many times can you tell yourself that it doesn't hurt.

They approached the door, silence among them. "I'm sorry I'm not a good parent. I'm sorry I can't fix this." A voice echoed through the paper-thin door. They could hear the sound of a loud baby crying, but they all were only focused on Namjoon.

"T-that voice... it's familiar." Hoseok whispered just loud enough that they all heard. The others all agreed, which made them all even more anxious. "There's nothing I can do! I'm failing." The voice called again with loud hiccups and sobs.

"Joon-!" Jungkook tried to call, but Jin put his hand over his mouth. "Shhh, don't yell. You'll scare him away." They remained quiet momentarily, hoping they hadn't given themselves away.

"God, I think I'm going crazy." A chuckle came from inside the apartment. "I can hear them. Your uncles. They always come to me when I need them." The boys' hearts ached to hear their leader talk about them.

"I miss them with all my heart." He said. "And I'm sorry you won't ever know how much they would have loved you." He sniffled again. "You would have been the light of their lives like mine."

All the boys had the exact same thought at that moment. Jimin, closest to the door, rushed forward and gripped the handle. He was surprised when the door opened, making a mental note to scold Namjoon about locking the doors later.

All six rushed in, finding the big leader looking up stunned in the middle of the floor.

The apartment Namjoon rented wasn't very big. It was a small studio apartment, but that's all he needed. He was trying to save money for the baby's later life, so the small room was enough for a single parent.

He had been crying on the floor with his baby in his arms when he heard his door burst open. He gasped and looked up, expecting to find a bunch of robbers or maybe busy police doing a search of the building. He did not expect to see the six boys he was talking about.

His eyes were so wide he was sure they would pop out of his head. Everything froze, and his little girl must have sensed a change in the room because she had stopped crying.

"Joonie?" Jin asked, looking at the tall boy on the floor with a baby in his arms.

Namjoon didn't want to move, scared that anything he might do would be wrong. He wholeheartedly wanted this to be his friends, his favourite people coming to find him, but he knew this wasn't good. This would make things so much worse.

"It's us, Namjoon-ah," Yoongi said softly, putting his arms out to show he meant no harm. Namjoon didn't need to swallow to feel the lump in his throat. It was so big that he almost thought it was blocking his breathing, but he knew that wasn't true. He was blocking his own breathing. "You can't be here." He choked out after more silence. The six boys looked at him cautiously.

"But we are. We are here for you." Jimin smiled, trying to show Namjoon their love, but the leader shook his head. He felt his tears returning, and he was positive he couldn't stop them. His whole body began to shake as he looked at the six.

"You have to leave. You have to leave." He chanted a few times with a fragile voice. "Please go away." He turned back down to his baby and held her closer.

"Hey Joon, it's ok. We aren't going to judge you." Hoseok reassured the boy, thinking he was nervous over the baby, but Namjoon kept rocking himself, telling them to go away. He pulled the small baby to his chest and tried to curl in on himself.

"If I close my eyes, you'll go away." He mumbled. The boys were concerned that he wasn't as mentally stable as once.

"Namjoonie, we aren't going anywhere. We just found you again." Jin said, trying to keep his voice happy and hopeful.

"Please, Hyung," Jungkook said. "We can go home now." Namjoon shot his head up, looking at the youngest.

"I can't go home. I can never go home." He said, his voice very clear and low.

Everyone was a bit stunned by the sudden firmness in his voice. "Why not Joon-ah?" Yoongi asked. He made the first attempt to get closer to the boy. He crouched down and went to rest a hand on Namjoon's shoulder, but the boy flinched away.

"Somebody did this to you, didn't they?" Taehyung asked, watching the leader intensely. It seemed obvious that Namjoon had been forced into something he didn't want. "Who did this? We can help you." Tae encouraged, joining Yoongi by the leader.

Namjoon shook his head and held his baby tighter. She fussed slightly at the tight grip, so Namjoon quickly let go again.

"Who hurt you, Namjoon? We will find them and make them pay." Jimin's face was stone cold. His voice was laced with venom. He was ready to beat whoever hurt his leader, friend, and brother.

"No, no, I can't. He said he'd hurt you if I did." Namjoon choked on another sob, starting to work himself up again.

"He can't hurt us, Hyung. We will find him and make him pay for hurting you." Jungkook held a fist up, showing that he meant to use it. There was silence for a moment, waiting for Namjoon to answer. "We are going to help you, Joonie. We will fix this. I'll take a DNA test of that baby to fix this if I have to." Jin said. Once again, Namjoon hugged the baby closer, thinking about his baby being used against him.

"Tell us who did this." Yoongi finally managed to touch the boy without him flinching away. He held his chin, lifting his face to look into his eyes.

"It started last year." He said, looking straight into Yoongi's eyes, though the rapper could tell he wasn't focused.

"Mr Lee approached me after dance and said I was falling behind." Namjoon's voice shook as he told his friends his biggest secret. "He offered me extra time to dance, and I wanted to be better for you all." He blinked a few times, trying to keep his tears away. "It didn't happen until the fourth time I stayed back." He could feel the tension from the rest of the group, so he kept his eyes on Yoongi. "I went to the bathroom after I finished the extra practice when he came in. I freaked out at him, telling him he was a weirdo for barging in when he knew I was there, but he just laughed at me. He pushed me against the wall of the cubical and started to touch me." Namjoon's voice broke the more he spoke. "I tried hard to fight back but was tired after all the practices. He had been making me stay back so he could wear me out, and then he struck when I was weakest." Namjoon took a moment, collecting his thoughts before he continued again. "After he raped me, he took pictures of me and said if I told anyone, he would leak them. I was so scared, so I didn't do anything." Namjoon felt ashamed. His pride had gotten him into this mess. "Eventually, I told him that I didn't care anymore. I wouldn't put up with this, but then Tae fell down the stairs, Jin Hyung nearly got hit with the sandbag on stage, and Hobi got the knife in the mail." The boys' eyes all widened, looking at Namjoon. "He said he would hurt you all if I told anyone." Finally breaking eye contact with Yoongi, Namjoon hung his head, looking down at his daughter. "Then, on the 5th of May, I found out I was pregnant. I told him I would get rid of the baby, but he told me not to. He said he would hurt everyone if I got rid of the baby, and then he told me to run away. He wanted me gone." Namjoon felt a hand on his shoulder but didn't look up.

"Joonie, you didn't have to protect us," Jin said, his voice weak.

"He got into our house once, he left death threats for Jimin, but I got them first. I couldn't risk letting you all get hurt." Namjoon sniffled, seeing how sad his friends looked at his sacrifice for them. "He could have done anything to us when we slept when we weren't home. I couldn't risk it." Namjoon looked up. "Not once I had my baby."

The others all gathered around him close. They hadn't forgotten the seriousness of the conversation, but they knew not to push too hard. Taehyung got down on his knees, looking at the small girl. "What's her name?" He asked with a kind smile. He touched her foot, giving it a cute little shake.

Namjoon frowned and looked down at her. "I...I haven't named her yet." He admitted.

"What? Why not?" Jimin furrowed his brows at the father. The baby must have been a few weeks old by then, and she still didn't have a name.

"I don't know. I couldn't think of a name for her. They all made me sad. Wondering if I was picking the right one for her to have her whole life."

Namjoon looked at her soft little face. She had finally drifted off to sleep, calm from the people surrounding her. "I didn't have anyone to tell me whether it was a good name." The leader shrugged. There was silence again for a moment until the youngest spoke.

"What about Sook-sun?" Namjoon looked to Jungkook, contemplating the name. "It means pureness for Sook and goodness for Sun. It would be pure goodness." The suggestion warmed Namjoon's heart.

He thought about it for a while, looking back at his baby. He gave a small chuckle when her nose wiggled in her sleep. "Sook-sun. I love it." He smiled brightly. Jungkook grinned at the two, happy to be able to help.

"It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl," Jin said, placing a hand on Namjoon's shoulder. "She is pure goodness to us all," Tae added.

Namjoon felt his heart soar. His friends were amazing. Not even knowing about the little baby for more than an hour, they all looked down at her with endless love.

"You're an amazing parent Joon-ah." Hoseok admired the leader's skill. "She's such an amazing little human already." He added, happy to be able to make Namjoon smile wider. "We won't let her be alone again, and neither will you," Jimin said strongly.

The tone of the voice made shivers run down Namjoon's back. "We are going to sue that man for everything he's worth. You're coming home with us, and we aren't accepting no." Yoongi insisted, crossing his arms, so they knew he really meant it.

"H-how can I go back?" Namjoon asked quietly. "I can't be in the band with a baby. Not to mention I've lost all talent I had. I'll be right back at square one." Namjoon sighed, but the others scoffed.

"Lost your talent? As if you ever could." Hoseok chuckled at the stupid words of the leader. "Joon-ah, you have more talent in your little finger than anyone else could." Namjoon looked up with sparkling eyes. He hated that he wanted to cry once again, but his hormones were still a mess. "Nothing could stop us from wanting you to come back, Hyung. We will all help you with Sunni." Namjoon smiled at his baby's nickname already.

"We will work everything out." Taehyung looked at the others, seeing them all agreeing with him. They would bring Namjoon home...

Because they would never leave him behind. They found him now, and he wasn't going anywhere again. They were always 7.

[emospritelet]

Dark Heart: past prompt "Don't call this number again."

Also prompted by anonymous

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Part 24]

AO3 link

Fifteen months earlier

Belle groaned as she saw that the elevator in her building was out of order for the fourth time in two months.  At seven months pregnant, the last thing she felt like doing was climbing three flights of stairs to her apartment.  A note was stuck to the doors, claiming that a call had been placed and that someone was due to come out that afternoon, and so she made a decision.  She set down the bag of groceries she had bought, pulling out her phone to call Emma.

“Hey,” said Emma.  “What’s up?”

“I can’t face the stairs right now,” said Belle.  “Are you anywhere nearby?  I could use a hot drink and someone to bitch about this elevator with.”

“It’s out again?” said Emma, and sighed.  “Look, give me ten minutes.  I have to take Henry to chess club and then I’m all yours.”

“Corner diner?”

“On my way.”

Belle slipped her phone back into her pocket, shouldering her bag of books and picking up the groceries, and traipsed along the street to where the diner squatted, bright lights shining out onto the wet, gleaming sidewalk.  The early March rain spattered against her face beneath her cloche hat, and Belle hunched her shoulders a little, shivering as the wind tried to get through her coat.  The diner was warm and humid, and she slid into a chair at an empty table with a sigh of relief.

She ordered a hot chocolate, pulling out a book to read as she waited for Emma to arrive.  Belle was relieved to have made a friend who understood what she was going through, and who could offer good advice.  It had been Emma that had given her most of her son’s baby things, including a crib and stroller that Belle would never have been able to afford.  Henry was almost nine, a bright, pleasant boy with his father’s dark eyes and brown hair. Emma’s husband Neal worked as a clerk in a firm of accountants, while studying for his own qualifications in the evening.  They scraped by on his wages while Emma was in college, all three of them crammed into a tiny two-bed apartment, but they were happy, and devoted to each other.  It gave Belle comfort to see that love could find a way, despite everything that life had thrown at them.

The beaming waitress set down her hot chocolate, and Belle sent her a tired smile, laying down her book and cupping the mug in her hands as she breathed in the promising scent of sugar, rich chocolate and cream.  She was still studying, and while the bone-weary exhaustion of the early months of her pregnancy had gone, she still got into bed each night feeling as though she had been running miles while carrying lead weights.  Her nausea had gone, at least; she had lost weight in the early months, and had struggled to gain it back.  The baby was healthy, though.  She had regular check-ups to ensure that.  She was due in early May, and while she had mostly gotten everything she needed for when the baby arrived, she was scared witless.  Emma had soothed some of her nerves, explaining in graphic detail what it was like to give birth and how she would likely feel in the early days.

Belle sipped at her chocolate, letting its sweet warmth run through her as she gazed out of the diner window.  The sky had darkened, and the rain was heavier, dancing on the sidewalk and streaking the window with silver.  People hurried by, umbrellas sending a shower of water to left and right or chins pushed into their collars as though that would keep them dry.  She wondered if the storm would push north, up to Maine.  She wondered if it was raining in Storybrooke.

Emma arrived just as she had finished her hot chocolate, a slim figure in a beanie hat and padded waterproof coat.  She hurried into the diner, muttering under her breath about the weather, and pulled off her hat and scarf, shaking out her long blonde curls.

“Wow, this day blows,” she remarked.  “Chocolate, huh?  Wouldn’t say no.  You want to split a brownie?”

“Sounds good.”

Emma gave the waitress their order, sliding into the chair opposite Belle and grinning at her.

“How’s it going?” she asked, and Belle pulled a face.

“Okay,” she admitted.  “I have a mass of research to do before next week, so it could mean some late nights at the library.  You up for being my study buddy?”

“Yeah, I could do with hitting the books too,” said Emma.  “This criminology paper is kicking my ass.  How about you come over for dinner, and we’ll head to the library when we’re done?”

“Count me in.”

Belle sat back with a sigh, rolling her shoulders, and Emma put her head to the side.

“Still no word from your dad?” she asked carefully.

“Well, I sent him a birthday present,” said Belle dryly.  “Nothing.  It’s like he’s pretending I don’t exist.  I don’t know if he’ll ever want to even see the baby.”

Emma pulled a face.

“I know he’s your dad, honey, but - look, I gotta say it.  He’s being a dick.”

“I know,” sighed Belle.  “I haven’t really forgiven him for what he said to me when I told him, it’s just - he’s the only family I’ve got.”

She chewed her lip, feeling overwhelmed and anxious, and Emma reached out to squeeze her hand.

“And - and your ex?” she said gently.  “I know things ended badly between you, but - but remember what Neal said last week?  About not getting to see his son, about not being there for us?  He still feels guilty about that, Belle, even now.”

“I know,” sighed Belle.  “I know he thinks I should tell Alex, and I know he’s only trying to help, but my situation and yours just aren’t the same.  You guys were separated because Neal was in prison, but there was never a question of you not getting back together.  Neal wanted to be with you, and he wanted Henry.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know how your ex would feel,” said Emma.  “He has a kid on the way, and he doesn’t even know it.  Maybe he’d help.”

“I don’t want his help,” said Belle automatically.  “I can do this myself.”

“Yeah, but maybe you don’t have to,” said Emma.  “You could at least get some child support out of him.”

Belle ducked her head, feeling guilty and somehow mutinous, and Emma sighed.

“I don’t know much of what went on between you two,” she said.  “But take it from someone who’s been there.  Bearing a kid alone, raising it alone… it’s hard.  The hardest thing I ever did, and Neal was only in jail for the first eighteen months of Henry’s life.  I’ve had him to help out since then.”

“He doesn’t want me,” said Belle obstinately. “He made that very clear.”

“But maybe he wants this kid,” said Emma patiently.  “How do you know unless you tell him?”

Belle tugged at her lip with her teeth, anxiety rising up within her as she voiced a fear she had been hiding since she learned that she was carrying his child.

“What if he does want the baby?” she whispered.  “What if - what if he takes it away from me?”

Emma’s mouth fell open.

“You think he’d try to do that?” she said softly, and Belle shrugged.

“I think he takes what he wants,” she said bitterly.  “I think he has money, power, influence, and probably a shit-hot team of lawyers.  What chance does a single mother with a crappy apartment and no steady job stand?”

Emma squeezed her hand a little more.

“That won’t happen,” she said firmly.  “You’re not spending your days taking crystal meth and banging half of Boston.  You’re a good person, studying hard, with a respectable career in your future.”

“Which I’m having to put on hold,” said Belle gloomily.

“Which you might be able to pick up again more quickly if you just ask for his help,” said Emma.  “Just - just tell him, Belle.”

Belle stared at the phone sitting on the tiny coffee table in front of her, a sleek black slug squatting by the flat pad of paper on which she had jotted some random thoughts, which she was hoping would act as prompts.  We need to talk.  I’m in Boston.  I should have called.  I was afraid.  And then, at the bottom of the page, in an uneven scrawl that had been underlined with a shaking hand: I’m pregnant.  She ran a hand over the curve of her belly where his child was growing inside her, chewing her lip.  Her heart was thumping in her chest, and she tried to calm herself.  Raising her blood pressure was a bad idea.  For the hundredth time she wondered why she had left it this long, and could come up with no decent answer but her own fear.

He has a right to know, just bloody well call him, will you?

Fingers trembling, she reached for the phone.  It would have been easier to pretend that she couldn’t remember his number, but that would have been yet another lie she told herself.  It was seared into her brain along with the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands on her and the taste of him on her tongue.  She dialled the number, listening to the ringtone and bouncing nervously on her toes.  The phone clicked as someone picked up.

“Hello?”

The sound of his voice made her throat close up.  She remembered how it had flowed over her like smooth silk as he whispered filthy things to her in the dark of the night, his mouth by her ear as he moved inside her.  It had been different when she left: harsh and bitter, strident with pain.  His accent thickened when he was angry, just as it did when he was aroused.  It made her abdomen clench to remember it.

“Hello?”

He was impatient now, and she could understand it.  This had been the third silent call she had made to him, after all.  The third call in which an evil entity had slithered into her throat and stolen her voice, made her mute with fear and pain and unrequited love.  She squeezed her eyes shut, tears pricking at them, and heard him sigh.

“Look, who is this?” he demanded.  “Might I say that this silent treatment is extremely tedious?  Any stalker worth their salt would at least try some fucking heavy breathing, or something.”

Belle pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob, her other hand tightening on the phone.  There was silence for a moment, and then his voice, a whisper so quiet she could barely hear it.

“Belle?”

She tried to speak the words that were swirling in her brain, clamouring to be let out.  I miss you, I love you, I need you.  I’m carrying your child and I’m so, so scared.  Her breath hitched, the words caught in her throat, hard and painful.

“I’ve made a note of the number that comes up on my phone,” he said coldly.  “I don’t know why the hell you’re calling me, but this appears to be a waste of both my time, and yours.  If I have any further calls from you, I’ll be forced to contact the police.  Don’t call this number again.”

The phone clicked, and there was silence, terrible and deafening.  Belle put down the phone, her lower lip trembling as tears welled in her eyes.  Her courage had failed her.  She couldn’t tell him the truth.  She wouldn’t.  Whatever hardships the birth of her child would bring, she would face them alone.