#Royal Guard Namjoon

[riphobisbraces]

The Lucky Seven | BTS ot7 x reader

Hybrid/Royal AU

~ chapter 3 + lore ~

[word count: 3650+]

❀ genre: dark royal core, hybrid au, royalty au, hybrids/knights!ot7 x human/ princess!reader, afab (she/her) reader, polyamory (mostly ot7 × reader), strangers to lovers, daddy dom, smut and sexual sometimes. tiny bits of horror

❀ warnings: smut, swearing, murder, death (not the reader or ot7 though, l'm not evil), mentions of inbreeding (not between reader or ot7) some unsettling horror depictions, it won't be every chapter though or the whole story, just little bits here and there. (I'm willing to re write chapters for you to read if you can't do horror but still wanna follow along, just ask! 🖤 )

——— summary ———

In a world of hybrids and humans, following each other closely to extinction, you are one of the last full humans, Princess y/l/n of the emerald nation. humans are essential for the survival of hybrids so why are assailants hunting you and your family down? because of this, the court has decided it’d be best for you to be guarded at all times by the nations strongest knights, you’ve only ever heard of them but have never seen their faces. What will happen once you come face to face with the infamous “lucky seven”?

[ chapter 3 + lore ]

You swallowed loudly, Namjoon’s words ringing through your head. Stood before you were seven knights, as attractive as they were intimidating. They were clad in dark iron armour, long swords strapped to their sides.

“Princess, I introduce to you, the lucky seven.” Your father promptly stated, therefore queuing the men to kneel before you. “Your highness” they all spoke in unison whilst looking down in respect. This made your heart slightly jump at the sudden submission from the domineering looking men.

Standing up, the men turned their sight to your father as he continued “the lucky seven are our nation's most powerful and capable knights. They are of full hybrid, all seven being a pack.” Taking in your father's words, their pack name finally rang a bell. You’ve heard of them before. You’ve heard from whispers of servants that the pack is strong enough to take out dozens of assailants at once.

You had no idea that the two men that had saved you the night before were part of the infamous pack. With Namjoon’s kind and gentle smile you could have never imagined that he was apart of such a daunting pack. “Now. These men are to guard you in and out the palace at all times. You are required to have at least three knights by your side in the palace, all seven if you wish you leave the palace.” Your father ordered.

“Sir Kim Seokjin” he called. The man from the far left stepping forward, “My lord” he replied. “This here, is Sir Kim Seokjin, the pack’s oldest. He is a hamster hybrid.” your father declared gesturing to the man.

A hamster? He was tall and had broad shoulders, contrasting a small waist. You would’ve never guess that the tall and muscular looking man was a hamster hybrid. He was staring forward, head held up high.

Examining his face, you took note of his lips immediately. They were strikingly plump and glossy. Making your way up his face, his eyes were the colour of chocolate, the same as his hair. You found yourself in awe of the man’s attractiveness, you’ve never seen anyone so radiant, other than the two hybrids you had just met last night of course.

Without warning, the man’s glance turned from your father to you. Startled, you glanced away, embarrassed. Looking down, you closed your hands together and started to fidget with your thumbs. The man smiled at this. ‘how cute’ he thought to himself before turning his glance to your father once again.

“Sir Min Yoongi” your father called, saving you from your embarrassment. “My lord” answered the man, stepping forward. You looked back up to see the knight.

This man was shorter than the others, almost petite, with long black hair swept over the top of his head. He was just as ravishing as the hybrid before him, feline-like eyes and a downturned mouth. His jawline was less sharp than the others, giving him a soft look.

“Sir Min Yoongi here, is the second oldest of the pack. He is a cat-hybrid” your father spoke. ‘Of course’ you thought to yourself, even in his human forum he resembles a feline. You nodded to your father to continue.

“and I’m sure you’ve already been acquainted with Sir Kim Namjoon and Sir Jung Hoseok.” the two stepped forward, “my lord” they replied in unison before both turned their sights to you, making you unconsciously clear your throat. “Sir Kim Namjoon is the third oldest of the seven, a wolf hybrid as you may already be aware of. He is the pack’s leader.” stated your father, looking to Namjoon causing the knight to smile proudly, dimples displayed while straightening his posture somehow even more so.

Your fathers eyes then moved to whom you knew as Hobi. “And Sir Jung Hoseok is the pack’s fourth oldest. A dog-hybrid, specifically of the golden retriever species” your father gestured to the man. So he’s a golden retriever? You can’t help but smile at the thought, it suits him. His smile was wide and bright, truly like a golden retriever.

“And now I want to introduce the pack’s three youngest” decreed your father, resulting in the last of the three to step forward “my lord” they replied in unison, just like Hobi and Namjoon did. “Starting from the left, this is Sir Park Jimin, the third youngest. His hybrid animal is also a feline like Sir Min Yoongi” you turned your sight to aforementioned the man.

‘Woah’ you thought to yourself. He was a pretty man, face adorned with plump and pillowy lips like the hamster hybrid before him. His eyes were feline-like, almost seductive. The man was smaller than the others, a slim waist also like the hamster hybrid’s but you could tell that he had a strong figure.

“The middle knight is Sir Kim Taehyung, second youngest and a lion hybrid” your father motioned to the knight. This knight was equally as attractive as the rest of his pack, having an alluring look. The man having thick brows, making him look serious.

Upon further examination, you took note of his facial moles, one being above his lip and another on top of his nose. He also had both a monolid and a double lid. The knight had a structured face paired with a sculpted body, much like his other pack mates, only difference being his hands, as they were a bit larger than the others.

“And last but certainly not least, the pack’s youngest, Sir Jeon Jungkook, a bunny hybrid.” spoke your father. The last and youngest knight was ironically the second tallest of his pack. You could see that he was also most likely the most buff, coming to a close tie with Namjoon.

Contrasting his bulky frame, was an innocent appearing face. His eyes were wide, doe like, accompanied by lips with a sharp cupids bow. The combination was very charming. Enticed by the man before you, you also took notice of a little scar across his left cheek.

Your father cleared his throat, taking you out of your mesmerization “you are dismissed until dinner” he declared. You curtsied your father before turning to walk out the room. Followed behind you were multiple steps pattered against the floor, causing you to turn around, the steps to coming to a halt.

Behind you, stood the seven knights ready to escort you. “Oh, you meant starting now?” your voice rang through the courtroom.

-

The sounds of numerous footsteps clacked against the marble floor behind you as you made your way through the corridor back to your chamber. You couldn’t help but feel uneasy with the amount of eyes you felt on your back. The men were in a line, taking up the whole hallway while following closely behind you.

Each step you took, felt calculated, as if you would trip from the burning stares. You decide to stop, the footsteps behind you also stopping, mirroring yours. Acknowledging this, you started walking once again, footsteps following suit.

You stopped one more time, the steps halting once more. This is when you turned to face the men “can you guys at least walk beside or in front of me, you’re all making me very nervous.” you stated whilst rubbing your wrist. You were used of a servant or two following you around from time to time but certainly not 7 very attractive men.

“Why are you nervous? We’re your guards, we are supposed to protect you after all.” The knight named Jin spoke with a sly manner while moving to stand in front of you. The man bent down to match his height with yours, cocking his head with a smile. This made your stomach do all sorts of flips.

Startled, you took a step back and swallowed dryly. You weren’t used to such close eye contact, especially with a man who wasn’t your servant. You could feel the sweat beads quickly forming behind your neck when Namjoon stepped forward, wrapping his hand around Jin’s shoulder.

“Alright hyung, be mindful of the princess. Remember, she’s never been around anyone other than her parents and servants until the night before..” the wolf hybrid reminded the hamster hybrid. Jin clicked his tongue against his teeth “I guess you’re right…” he reluctantly admitted. “so? can you guys please walk in front of me….” you spoke quietly, causing the men to turn their attention back to you.

They could all feel their hearts warm at your timidness. Hoseok abruptly spoke up, stepping forward “Namjoon and I will walk beside you, the rest will walk behind you” he happily volunteered, much to the other hybrids chagrin. They wanted you walk beside you.

“okay.. thank you..” you breathed out. Namjoon and Hoseok walked up to your sides, the wolf-hybrid taking your left and the golden retriever-hybrid your right. The rest of the knights lined up behind you.

“better?” Asked Namjoon looking down at you. You looked up the at the wolf-hybrid, feeling a bit more comfortable than you did before. “Yes.” You replied and with that, you continued making your way to your room, the hybrid knights by your side and behind, following closely along.

-

As you finally made it to the oh so familiar tall white doors of your chamber, you couldn’t help but notice the gasps and whispers that came from your servants and maids as you were walking through the palace. Usually you’re kindly greeted and approached in the palace by your servants but with the intimidating looking pack that followed you, they all seemed to scatter away. It was as if they were avoiding you or more accurately, the pack.

This saddened you a bit as you already don’t have any friends. As pathetic as it may sound, your servants were the closest things you had to friends. Sighing, you were about to open your doors when you were cut off by a pair large arms.

“Please, allow us. Wait here.” Contended Hoseok. He turned the knobs, opening the doors as he and Namjoon stepped inside while the others waited outside with you. After the two deemed the room safe, they called out to their fellow pack members.

“it’s clear” signalling for you and the rest to walk in. ‘Is it going to be like this every single time I walk into a room?’ you questioned to yourself.

-

The sound of your clock filled the silent room, with the occasional turn of a book page from Namjoon who was reading by the seat near your windowsill. You were sitting in front of your vanity, braiding your hair while the men were scattered across your room. When your father said they were to be by your side at all times, you didn’t think he meant it literally.

Swinging your head back and groaning in frustration, you started to mentally berate yourself. If you hadn’t snuck out, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. 'You should’ve just stayed home' you thought to yourself.

Suddenly a light bulb went off in your head. Would the attack even still have happened if you weren’t there? How did the assailants even know that you were the princess? Was it the same way Hoseok did? Did they know you would be there that night? And if so, how?

Millions of questions ran rapid through your head. Your head started to feel heavy and sore. With sudden pangs of pain shooting through your mind, you decide to put your head down on your vanity, arms wrapped around underneath for cushion.

You shut your eyes and tried to do the same with your mind. You inhaled through your nose deeply before exhaling slowly through your mouth, as though if you controlled your breathing, your mind would soon follow suit. Much to your surprise, it did. Your mind slowly started to go blank, instead, focusing on the ticking of your room’s clock.

tick..tock..tick..tock..tick..tock.. you find yourself start to yawn as your body began to sunk even more into your vanity, relaxation running through your body. With the recent events that had transpired, you would think you wouldn’t be able to get a blink of sleep out of fear or paranoia.

Instead you felt safe. Knowing deep down, it is because of the hybrids that currently reside in your room. The ticking of your clock is getting quieter and quieter, before you succumb to your inevitable slumber.

-

It doesn’t take very long before the youngest hybrid notices that you had fallen asleep. Cautiously, he began walking towards your sleeping figure on the chair. You were facing down on your vanity table, head wrapped around with your arms.

Unexpectedly, you moved your arm to scratch your head, placing it back down away from your face. Jungkook slowly bent down and moved toward you to examine your face. Upon closer inspection, the hybrid noticed a little bit of drool on the corner of your mouth. This made him chuckle in endearment.

Slowly backing up, he cleared his throat “Guys? I think the princess has fallen asleep” he whispered with a smile. Quickly, the men turned from whatever they were doing and fixed their sights upon you. Their faces softening as they took in the sight before them.

Your hair was half braided, baby hairs sticking to your forehead from sweat. Mouth slightly parted as you breathed in and out. “She looks so… peaceful.” Jimin spoke. “You’re right” Taehyung agreed.

They all continued to stare at you in silence whilst you slept, only the clock ticking and your soft breaths filling the silent room. What after seemed like an eternity, Namjoon finally spoke up. “We should get the princess into her bed.” The men uttered courses of agreement before Jungkook quickly offered “I’ll do it!” while standing up.

Everyone nodded and made their ways back to their spots, secretly a bit jealous that they didn’t think of Jungkook’s offer first. Quietly, the youngest made his way to your sleeping body, carefully picking you up out of your seat as to not wake you. Lifting you up, he laid your head on his shoulder, causing you to unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck, the action warming his heart.

He then wrapped your legs around his waist one by one. Cautiously, he started walking, making his way to your bed careful not to drop you. Slowly, he began to put you down on your bed but much to his surprise, you wouldn’t let go, your legs and arms still wrapped around his body.

“Um, Hyungs….” Jungkook quietly spoke. The rest of the pack turned their attention to their youngest, eyes widening at the sight. Jungkook wasn’t even holding onto you, yet, you were wrapped around him like a spider monkey.

“She won’t let me go…” Jungkook continued. The sight made them envy the youngest. Jin stood up “are you sure? try leaning down on the bed” ordered the hamster hybrid. Jungkook nodded and did what he was told.

You were still holding on tight but now you were whining. Your whines tugged at the men’s heart strings. “shit…” Namjoon said, holding his chin while thinking. “Well… just let her sleep on you.”

Jungkook’s heart raced. He swallowed dryly “ar-are you sure?” asked the youngest. “yes, I’m sure” affirmed the leader. Namjoon couldn’t lie, he was envious of the youngest but your safety and well being came first, that included your sleep. So alas, he would just have to deal with his jealousy.

Slightly shaking, Jungkook softly sat down on the bed before putting his legs up and laying down on his back with you still wrapped on him. ‘The princess of the emerald nation is wrapped around me’ he thought. Looking straight up to the ceiling, he was nervous.

He didn’t want to make any wrong move so he just laid there, stiff, not even breathing. Suddenly you yawned and your grip on him became even tighter. This turned his gaze to you. You looked so comfortable. This subconsciously made him follow suit, his body relaxing at the sight and finally breathing.

Once he inhaled, he caught your scent. You smelt of vanilla and shea butter, causing him to decompress even more. He looked over your face and noticed your baby hairs, still stuck to your forehead. Slowly, he raised his hand toward your head, lightly moving them to the side. This made you sigh in content, the sound making the hybrid’s cheeks heat up.

'You were really cute' he thought to himself. The hybrid laid his head back down, closing his eyes. Your scent, the sound of your breaths and the weight of your body, all combining together to create a deadly melatonin for the bunny-hybrid. He soon followed suit you, falling into a slumber.

-

Night time quickly fell. The hybrids stared at Jungkook and you, begrudgingly. You were for sure going to be scented by the bunny hybrid by the time you woke up, and they all each wanted to be the first one to do so. You looked like a little pup compared to Jungkook’s large frame.

Although envious, they enjoyed the sight in front of them, their pack mate and their princess looking so comfy sleeping together. A knock brought them to their senses followed by a door creak. “Your highness?” spoke a servant.

They all immediately shushed the servant, startling him and almost causing him to jump. Looking around, he noticed that they were all sat around your bed, you still being wrapped around Jungkook. The servant nervously cleared his throat “apologies but uhhh, is princess y/l/n going to make it to dinner?” He questioned in a hushed voice.

“I don’t think so” answered Jin while turning to look at your sleeping figure on Jungkook, in a complete dead sleep. “okay well just so you’re aware, only three of you need to be here over-night so if the four of you wanna go back to your den then you ca-“ “no.” Namjoon abruptly cut the servant off. “we’re okay here.” The wolf hybrid affirmed, looking back to you.

“thank you, that will be all” finished the leader, turning back to give the servant a courteous, but fake, smile. “oh okay. I’ll be off then.” replied the servant before he made his exit, the sound of the doors shutting gently behind him. “So how are we gonna do this?” Asked Hobi.

“I guess the two of us can try and fit on the bed with Jungkook and y/n while the others can sleep on the floor” answered Namjoon. Jimin immediately stood up “I am not sleeping on the floor” making his way to the bed, laying down beside jungkook and you.

Jimin stretched his arms and yawned. “So who’s sleeping with us? There’s one more spot” questioned the feline. Suddenly a body jumped onto the edge of the bed, causing it to slightly shake. The pack members angrily shushed in unison. “sorry, I couldn’t help it” Hobi smiled, making himself comfortable on the bed. Namjoon sighed “I guess it’s you guys and I on the floor tonight, huh?” he concluded to Jin, Yoongi and Taehyung, nudging the youngest one.

“aishhhh.” Yoongi exclaimed while throwing his head back. “alright whatever” the lion-hybrid defeatedly said throwing his hands up before he started to make his way to what he assumed was your closet, looking for any sort of extra blankets. Taehyung wanted to sleep with you but he guesses that his three pack members will do for tonight.

-

-

[ LORE ]

Hybrids:

Hybrids are a humanoid species who can shape shift. They require the blood of humans in order to survive. Without it, they can lose the ability to shape shift back into humans. If hybrids stay in their animal form for too long, they can lose their humanity and minds before ultimately, dying as a rabid animals. Not all animals in this world are rabid, just hybrids who lose their humanity. This becomes a problem as humans become more scarce and classism rises in the nations. Needing twice as much as blood from a half human then you would a full human. Poor or small hybrid villages are often overlooked, deemed unfit for survival.

Humans:

Humans. What can we say about humans.. except everything. They are seen as gods, saviours, supreme beings and everything in between. Their yearly blood sacrifices that nourished their hybrid minds and bodies were seen as the most noble act. For this, they were and are forever in their debts. Human blood wasn’t seen as something to have to regulate or worry about since there were so many humans. Before the disaster that is. There was a huge unknown catastrophe hundreds of years ago that wiped out only and nearly all humans. Since then, humans and their blood have been regulated, only the richest villages in the nations being sub-stained while others, perished, turning into rabid animals forever before finally succumbing and dying. The fall of a hybrid village is something no one should ever witness. The scent of a human can also help a hybrid thrive and become stronger, kind of like a boost.

Emerald nation:

This nation was formed hundreds of years ago along with dozens of other nations following the catastrophic disaster that took almost all humans. The fateful surviving human families of that day were sent over all the nations, one family for each one. Over the years the nations capital villages that the human families resided in soon turned into kingdoms, the families also turning into what we know as royal. The humans served and provided for their respective kingdoms alongside hybrids alike. The humans also courted fellow humans from other nations royal families to keep the human blood line going but as time went on, there were no more other humans to court. This caused a proposal, a proposal for selected hybrids to court and mate with royal family members. This went on for years, resulting in half hybrids and quarter hybrids before only one full blooded human family remained. Your family.

a/n; hello again everyone! it’s currently almost 7am where I live. I stayed up to finish and proof read the chapter and I’m soooo tired but I really wanted to finish and share with you guys :)) anyways I’m gonna try and sleep for a bit. I’ll start a bit of chapter four tomorrow but I’ll be sure to have it finished and posted by Wednesday night or Thursday morning (my time zone is EDT) thank you for reading! 🥰

[tag list🖤🖤🖤: @strxwbloody @exfolitae @thebisexualonesworld @skyys-universe ]

*tag list is open, just ask 🖤*

previous chapter:

[btsfests]

𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔣𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil: for these stories art with us. Let our prophets share their written word with you, and may you find yourself peeking into Heaven or Hell!

Fables coming your way January - February

♡ Title: After Dark ♡ Pairing: Ceberus! Maknae Line x Demon! Reader ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Fantasy, Drama/Angst, Smut ♡ Summary: Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin are your guard dogs, willing to do anything for you. You run an elite casino within the human world, disguised as a human, but you can only get in if you've been invited. Seokjin and Hoseok have been thorns in your side for years, witches hellbent on sending you back to the afterlife.

As scripted by @jmvore

♡ Title: Carry It With You ♡ Pairing: Human!Taehyung x Guardian Angel!Jimin ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health, Angst, Smut, Fluff ♡ Summary: Broken beyond repair, Taehyung is convinced that the Heavens have forsaken him. It’s Jimin’s responsibility to show Taehyung that there really is someone out there who cares.

As scripted by @gimmethatagustd

♡ Title: Celestial Ruin ♡ Pairing: Fallen Angel!Yoongi x Angel!(f)reader x Angel!Namjoon ♡ Rating: 18+ | Dead Dove ♡ Genre: Fantasy, Supernatural, Angels and Demons, Angst, Smut, Corruption ♡ Summary: Just being in his proximity made my skin crawl. As if his tainted wings were contagious and I was putting myself at risk just being near him. Yoongi was corruption incarnate. Once revered upon his throne and now cast aside for the sins he committed. Inky wings replacing the beautiful gold they used to be. The sign of the Fallen. And the way he looked at me said he wouldn't be sinking alone.

As scripted by @remedyx

Read Now

♡ Title: Cursed ♡ Pairing: Demon reader x new demon Namjoon ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: supernatural, crack, smut ♡ Summary: You manage to royally piss off demon lord Seokjin and he punishes you by giving you the assignment no one wants - shaping hapless IT guy Kim Namjoon into a freaky deaky demon.

As scripted by @hamsterclaw

♡ Title: Did It Hurt? ♡ Pairing: FallenAngel!Taehyung x LostSoul!f.Reader ♡ Rating: MA ♡ Genre: Fallen Angel AU | Angst, Smut, Mild Fluff ♡ Summary: Cast from the Heavens and forced onto the mortal plane for breaking his Oath of Holy Divinity, Taehyung only has one way to regain his wings after his exile is up or forever be cast into the 9th Circle—save a lost soul seeking absolution. As his one-hundredth year in exile approaches, his desire to return starts to wane and the kiss of Hellfire grows nearer.

As scripted by @colormepurplex2

Read Now

♡ Title: Fall from Grace ♡ Pairing: Demon!Seokjin x Angel!Jimin ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Romance, Smut, betrayal ♡ Summary: The rules for angels and demons are simple and straightforward and can be summed up as don’t interact. It’s not Jin’s fault that he’s mistaken for an angel.

As scripted by @downbad4yoongi

Read Now

♡ Title: Help! An Angel has Fallen and She Can't Get Back Up! ♡ Pairing: Human!Namjoon x Angel!Reader ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Idiots to lovers, angel summoning, fluff, humor, smut, crack ♡ Summary: Namjoon is satisfied with his life. He has great friends, a promising career, and feels confident he can face any challenge the future may bring. However, when he accidentally summons an angel while doing his dishes, he realizes he might be in over his head.

As scripted by @blog-name-idk

♡ Title: Lead Us Into Temptation ♡ Pairing: Demon!Hoseok x Human!Reader ♡ Rating: 21+ ♡ Genre: established relationship, demon possession, corruption, speculative horror, fluff, angst, smut ♡ Summary: Hoseok is as devout in his faith as he is dedicated to you, and the two of you live by a moral code of remaining pure and perfect – free from sin and temptation. But after Hoseok is stricken with a strange illness that changes him entirely, you wonder if the life you had before is truly the life you desire.

As scripted by @theharrowing

♡ Title: Mist of Chaos ♡ Pairing: Demon!Yoongi / Angel!Taehyung x f! Reader ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Supernatural, Demons, Angels, Angst, Smut. ♡ Summary: The tales told in the night, that 'it is hard to find the light'. You learn that what you see isn't always quite right. You find yourself soul-torn in a mystic valley after an unexpected incident. Alone, however, you were not as an angel and demon cling your shoulders.

As scripted by @taegicity

♡ Title: Reborn In Sin ♡ Pairing: demon!jimin x fem!reader ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: dark, supernatural, fantasy, angst, smut ♡ Summary: for years jimin was your constant and loyal companion in the church, he was a shining example of humility and compassion. but when he was tragically taken from the world before he could experience life, his heart was filled with anger and resentment. and so, in a moment of weakness, he struck a deal with the devil, trading his soul for a second chance at life. but when he returned, he was no longer your kind and devoted boy you once knew.

As scripted by @hoseokshobagi

♡ Title: Shadow of Mine ♡ Pairing: Demon!Taehyung x f. Reader ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Supernatural, Angels and Demons, Angst, Smut ♡ Summary: As one of the few humans in the world without a guardian angel to protect you, you’ve learned to take care of yourself - until you realize that perhaps you haven’t been as alone as you always thought.

As scripted by @sailoryooons

♡ Title: Talk to My Angels ♡ Pairing: human!taehyung and angel!reader, platonic ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Fantasy, humor i hope?, angst ♡ Summary: What should Taehyung pick for breakfast? Which shoes should he wear today? Should he accept the job or look for something better? No matter the significance, Taehyung always turns to his angels for answers. So when he finds you - a real-life angel - the surprise isn't that he can see you or that he accepts your existence. The surprise is that he makes it his mission to send you back where you belong.

As scripted by @daechwitatamic

♡ Title: The End Of All Things ♡ Pairing: Fallen Angel!Jungkook x Human!Namjoon, (Past Taekook) ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Fantasy, Alternate Universe — Angels & Demons, Slow Burn ♡ Summary: He moved with a silent sort of rage that could be felt in the air. There was no mistaking what he was at this moment, entirely unearthly and terrifying. It wouldn't surprise Namjoon if the very ground broke under his feet, Jungkook's very being screaming, look at what I've become, look what you have made me.

He made his way through the crowd, cutting down his foes with precision because he did not move in unblinded rage, — it was grief.

or a story about what it really means to be human.

As scripted by @jknoah

♡ Title: Touch of Hell ♡ Pairing: Devils son!Jimin x m!reader ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Fantasy, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort ♡ Summary: Finding himself exiled to the human world by his own father — the Devil himself, Jimin is stuck in a dilemma. Will the boy who stole his heart love him forever, or will he push him away after he finds out the monster he is ?

As scripted by @leohatter

♡ Title: Wish ♡ Pairing: Angel!Jungkook x Human!Reader; background Angel!Jin x Demon!Jimin ♡ Rating: PG-13 ♡ Genre: Fantasy, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn ♡ Summary: When Jungkook's mentor goes missing, he travels to earth in search of him and when he gets into a spot of trouble, a kind human helps him out. Determined to pay them back Jungkook insists on granting a wish but…

How do you grant a wish for someone who doesn't have one?

As scripted by @madbutgloriouspond

[colormepurplex2]

Beneath The Boughs | A Kiss Hello

↳ Namjoon x f.Reader ⤜ Robinhood Retelling, Strangers to Lovers/Soulmates, Ruined Arranged Marriage AU ⤜ Rating: MA🔞 ⤜ WC: 8,752 ⚠️ crass language, mentions of parental illness, melancholy feelings, crude innuendos, light descriptions of smut/v. sex

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

Namjoon

“This is madness. A terrible idea. What’s wrong with you?”

Namjoon tunes out Hoseok’s constant string of uncertainty. No matter the risk or how reckless it might be, he can’t let this opportunity slip between his fingers.

“If you have a better one, let’s hear it,” Namjoon grumbles as he adjusts the strap of his bow across his back.

Hoseok sighs, glancing Jungkook’s way. “Why are you so silent on this? You can’t possibly think this is a good idea either.”

There is a moment of silence as the trio trudges through the thick underbrush of Sherwood Forest. Jungkook finally breaks the silence, saying, “I think this idea is better than not taking action at all. If what Friar Park provided to Namjoon is indeed true, then this is fate guiding us. Who are we to question that?”

“Never been much of one for trusting fate,” Hoseok huffs, dragging a thumb over the scar that angles along the side of his jaw and down his throat, courtesy of The Sheriff of Nottingham. Yoongi is the reason Hoseok disappeared into the Woods all those years ago, bloody and nearly frozen to death in nothing but his underthings. It was dead of winter, and he was lucky that Namjoon had found him before the wolves could.

The history between Hoseok and Yoongi is nearly as thick with tension as the one between Jungkook and Seokjin. Namjoon glances between his two closest friends, wondering not for the first time whether or not he’s leading them to their demise. They both escaped the crown’s wrath once; there is no guarantee of a second time.

Namjoon knows Hoseok is right; traveling to Nottingham in an effort to participate in the Royal Games is absolutely nonsensical. But on the chance that Namjoon might once again lay his eyes on the ones that tracked him with hawk-like grace nearly a week ago, it’s a risk he’s willing to take.

“You’re both welcome to stay behind,” he reminds them. “I can do this on my own. It’s my risk to take.”

“No,” comes Hoseok’s terse reply. Despite his woes, Namjoon knows there is no way Hoseok would abandon him to do this alone.

“As someone with experience in these Royal Games, I can say that you, in fact, could not do this on your own. They wouldn’t allow you to compete without at least a squire or attendant by your side. Even the low-born must bring a partner. It’s simply the rules,” Jungkook explains. His easy stride is so full of assurance that it is as if walking into the place he was exiled from is just a casual stroll through a meadow.

Namjoon just grunts his acknowledgement. Because, once again, one of his friends is right. He knows, without a doubt, he’d be lost without them both and is tremendously grateful for their company. He tells them as much before a comfortable, if anxious, silence befalls the group as the stone walls of the city come into view.

“Name?” the gruff guard asks before hawking a glob of phlegm into the dirt beside Namjoon’s leather-boot-clad feet.

“Haejoon of House Lee,” Namjoon says, pointedly ignoring the ill-manners of the guard. Best not to draw more attention than necessary by commenting.

“That a local house name?”

“No. We’ve traveled from—”

“Don’t care. How many?” The guard barrels over Namjoon’s carefully constructed story that he guesses is not actually needed.

Taking a shallow breath to keep his head, Namjoon answers, “Just one, with two escorts.”

“Specialty?”

“Archery.”

The word is barely out of Namjoon’s mouth when the guard jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Stable seven. Next!”

Jungkook grabs Namjoon’s elbow and hauls him forward around the guard before he can say anything further, the guard having already moved on to the next person in line.

“Best to move on,” Jungkook mutters. “We can provide names that aren’t our own, but our faces will always be the same.”

A pang of guilt twinges in Namjoon’s chest. It’s very likely that the gate guard worked under Jungkook before his knighthood was extinguished. There is still a sour bitterness that coats Namjoon’s tongue whenever he thinks about his friend’s topple from the highest ranks.

There is a dark underbelly to this city, controlled by a man who prefers slithering through shadows and dabbling in the darker arts. Jungkook’s future changed the moment he was discovered to have overheard the Prince’s mage, Taehyung, divulging his nefarious courtly plans to Seokjin. According to Jungkook, King Seokjoong is on crusades under completely false pretenses thanks to Taehyung’s dark magick and trickery.

Of course, no one in the city believed Jungkook thanks to those same dark methods. There was nothing he could do to prevent it. The only thing that kept Jungkook from the gallow ropes was his pristine reputation and the fact there would have certainly been a mutiny of the masses.

The story that circulated through the public after his exile was a web of lies concerning Jungkook’s moral compass and supposed salacious dealings. These were all falsities but better than the truth…which would have found the Prince and his mage at the mercy of the King. Well, better for them, at least. Indeed, if King Seokjoong knew what his brother and Taehyung were up to, he’d ride post-haste from the frontlines to reclaim his throne.

All of the stables are open, giving a grand view of the competition field beyond. A dozen other participants, all with bows of varying quality, dot the straw-covered space. Hushed conversation filters through the air, eyes on swivels casting cursory looks their way before sliding away once more.

Namjoon has never attended one of these competitions, much less participated. So, all he has to go on is the little Jungkook was able to impart to him as they journeyed through Sherwood Forest.

“Look there,” Hoseok whispers, nodding to somewhere off in the distance. “The dais.”

Even from so far away, you steal the breath from Namjoon’s lungs. He’s frozen, paralyzed in his admiration of the regal figure you cut against the crimson backdrop of the dais. The deep plum-colored gown hugging your body shows Namjoon all the places his hands itch to trace.

A throat clearing snaps Namjoon out of his reverie. “Can you feel it?” Jungkook mutters, catching Namjoon’s eye.

By it, Namjoon knows Jungkook refers to the pull described in Prophetia Somniorum. The book provided many details, some more vague than others, as the experience can vary from person to person. However, one thing was sure with each storied account: the subtle echo of another heartbeat alongside your own.

Namjoon can feel it now, that soft lub-dub that he knows is the match to his own heartbeat. It’s right there. He presses a gloved hand over where that rhythm thumps in his chest. “I can,” he finally replies, words low and full of awe. “With every glance, it grows stronger.”

Just to prove to himself he’s right about that, he chances another look in your direction. If it weren’t for the grip Hoseok has on his shoulder, Namjoon would be on his knees in the dusty stable. You’re looking right at him. Can you feel him? Do you know he’s here? He has to know—

“Whoa, hey, not so fast.” Jungkook and Hoseok both have a hold on him now, and Namjoon realizes he has taken a few steps forward. “All in due time, my friend. You can’t just go approaching the dais. You’ll earn a sword to the belly before you make it five feet before her. Best to do this the way we planned.”

“By winning,” Namjoon sighs, resigned.

His friends echo murmured agreements, “By winning.”

🍂🍂🍂

You can feel it. Him—he’s out there somewhere. Your best guess is between stables five and nine. It’s impossible to tell precisely, considering your view is obstructed by the hundreds of bodies packed into the staging stables. However, you can feel it all the same: the same sensation that carried you away on foreign currents that fateful night nearly a week gone. 

What you once thought was a soft hum in your chest, you can now tell is actually a heartbeat. Though it is separate from your own, it is a subtle echo that you know, without a doubt, belongs to the mysterious man from the road. How you know that, you’re not sure, but you know it is the truth nonetheless.

It started shortly after your first encounter, once the adrenaline had subsided and you had a moment to reflect. Each thready pulse is stronger than the last. You swear the longer you let your eyes drift between stables five and nine. The intensity increases until it almost seems like you have your ear pressed directly to a chest—one you’ve become intimately familiar with, if only in your dreams.

The hours tick by, filled with shouts from the jeering crowd and the scuffle of the first few games. You watch, bored and barely able to keep your seat without fidgeting, as faceless men are paraded before you. They all smile and bow, hats tipped off their heads and pressed to their chests as they scrape and beg favor. You do your best to smile and nod, maintaining a polite facade, all the while screaming in your head.

You almost miss him in the monotony of it all. The moment he strides across the field before the dais, your eyes slide right over him. It’s not until you feel your heart leap into a gallop in your chest that your eyes scramble backward and alight on his formidable figure. The heart knows, even if the eyes are unsure; something your mother once told you and that you can now attest to be true.

He cuts a regal form against the dark wood of the stable, his height putting him above many of the other participants, though he’s of a similar size to one of his attendants, the other slimmer and almost as familiar as the man himself. The brown rough-spun wool garb and worn leather boots from the road have been replaced with sleek riding leathers and shiny, new boots with brass buckles, though the dark green cloaks are the same.

Thick, inky hair peeks out from the hood, feathering across the man’s forehead as his eyes scan the crowd on the dais before landing on you. All the air in your lungs heaves out in a strangled gasp. Those dark depths beckon you, will you to come closer and fall into their endless beauty and intrigue.

You’re out of your seat before a vice-like grip on your arm tugs you back into your chair. “Are you well, My Lady?” Prince Seokjin’s pleasant, though terse, voice carries to you, drawing your focus away from the mystery man on the field and to the one sitting by your side.

Prince Seokjin’s focus is on the field, but you can tell by his rigid posture that he’s displeased by you. You clear your throat, settling back into your seat and carefully rolling your shoulder as a means to dislodge his grip on your upper arm.

“I’m well, Your Majesty. I was just trying to adjust my seat, that is all.”

“Do you desire more cushion?” Before you have a chance to respond, he barks, “Yoongi! More cushions for my beloved. Now.” As if Yoongi needs the emphasis, Seokjin snaps his fingers several times as he speaks.

By the time two more cushions have been added to your chair and you’re finally settled back down, the man is just a dot on the horizon. All of the archers are milling about in the distance, just specks against the steel-grey sky, and the dozen targets they’ll be aiming for are lined up right in front of the dais. You have a front-row seat to their marksmanship skill display.

Each participant is announced as they take aim and loose their arrows in an effort to impress. Many find their targets, while others fall short. But there is only one that genuinely draws awe from the crowd and the dais. A singular arrow that splits the wooden shaft of another arrow. A round of applause follows the feat, the game crier announcing the participant as a representative from House Lee.

“House Lee?” Duckie mutters softly beside you. “Must be from the east.”

Somehow, you know it’s him, but something tells you that’s not his proper name. Clearly, a highwayman—though you hate to think of him like that anymore—would not be able to enter into the Royal Games without providing some sort of alias. It makes you wonder about his attendants; who they are to him because surely they would have to have a fierce loyalty towards him to risk being here.

Though, that thought has a thrill all its own inching its way down your spine. You don’t want to be presumptive, but you can’t help thinking he’s here to see you, to be near you…that he’s here for you.

Your thoughts are spinning, your mind trying to devise a scenario where you can abscond away into your highwayman’s arms. Forget being a princess, forget the titles and the money…the power. You couldn’t care less about those things, not when what you truly want is right there…walking across the field—towards you!

“Haejoon of House Lee, Your Majesty, My Lady,” the game crier announces, addressing Seokjin and then you.

Prince Seokjin stands, flicking an impatient hand your way. You lurch to your feet, closing the distance from your seat to the railing guard of the dais. Everything narrows to a singular point of focus; the world could end, and you’d be none the wiser with as consumed as you are by that mahogany stare.

“Impressive shot, splitting another’s arrow. I believe that feat alone has earned you the fair maiden's favor,” Prince Seokjin announces as if he’s doing you both a service. “Please, come claim your prize, Haejoon of House Lee.” He adds a flourish with a begemmed hand in your direction.

Duckie tucks a square of embroidered cloth into your hand from behind. “For the competitor, My Lady,” she whispers.

You glance down at the handkerchief, noting the soft purple thread forming your initials on one corner and the white rose denoting your status as a maiden on another. Lace frills line the edges of the dainty fabric.

The railing digs into your belly, but you don’t care as you press forward and lean out over it. He’s so close, inching up on his toes, arm extended. You silently plead for a breeze to flutter through, your body craving just a small taste of his scent. If only to add another piece to the puzzle that is this mystery man of your dreams.

“I know you,” you whisper. “I’ve dreamt of you.”

The sound of his breath is audible as he exhales, a warm smile cutting across his handsome face. “I was worried you wouldn’t recognize me. There is so much I need to tell you. Where can—”

“Kim Namjoon!” Court Mage Taehyung’s hiss cuts off whatever it is he was about to say. “Guards, seize this criminal! Ah! A fool you are, Jeon Jungkook, to dare step foot back in this city! Guards, his attendants, too!”

“Wait, no!” you cry as a mass of red and gold figures descend on him—Namjoon. “Please!”

The handkerchief in your hand is snatched away, crumpled and lost in the fray of bodies. Chaos erupts around you as the two men who were standing as Namjoon’s attendants spring into action, producing blades from under their cloaks.

“Come away from the railing, My Lady!” Duckie tugs on your arm, but you refuse to be moved.

It’s a quick, fierce battle that somehow sees the two men escaping through the thick crowd. Part of you is angry at them for leaving Namjoon behind, but another part of you knows it would have been a futile attempt to disengage him from the guards surrounding him. Your heart aches, but you try to remain hopeful that perhaps they’ll return with help. Though, what kind of help would be needed to free him from Prince Seokjin’s clutches now…well, you’d rather not think about that now.

Maybe…just maybe, you can do something.

“Come on, Duckie,” you mutter, finally tearing your eyes away from the anguish shining back at you from Namjoon’s. Glancing at Seokjin, you want nothing more than to wipe the smug look off his face but instead ask, “Permission to retire, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, yes, as you will.” He barely pays you any mind, dismissing you in favor of barking orders at the guards to have Namjoon taken to the dungeon to await the gallows with the rising sun.

That gives you a timeline, one that your heart beats frantically against. You glance at the sky, judging how many more hours there are until nightfall. That’s when the real testament of time will begin. Under the guise of darkness, you must find a way to free Namjoon, lest he become a man only in your dreams.

🍂🍂🍂

Namjoon

The stench of hopelessness nearly overwhelms the stink of death and decay that Namjoon knows is soaked into the weathered stone of the dungeon cell he was tossed into.

There are half a dozen other limp bodies clumped into the small cell. It’s hard to tell if any of them are even breathing, but the occasional hacking cough and groan tells Namjoon that there is at least one other pitiful soul with him in the darkness.

“Ye ought be askin’ for a last words wi’the priest, ach,” a gravelly voice cuts through the dank air. Namjoon squints into the darkness, trying to find the source of the voice. “Tha’s right, I be talkin’ to ye.” Movement sounds from the far side of the cell. There are a few muttered curses, the shuffling of feet, and the rattle of chains, but slowly, a figure materializes out of the dark.

“Who are you?” Namjoon asks tentatively.

Namjoon barely makes out the wave of something—a hand, maybe—in the air before him. “It is not me ye should be worryin’ ‘bout, ach. It be yer head fittin’ for the gallows wit the sun. I ‘eard all about ye, the guards like ta talk. Ye best ask after a priest for yer forsaken soul…or wha’er else might be in tha skull o’yers.”

Believing he’s picking up on what the man is insinuating, Namjoon slowly nods. “Right. A priest. For my last words.” A plan begins to form in Namjoon’s mind almost instantly.

Shoving to his feet, he shuffles around the man, glimpsing a gnarled face and scraggly grey beard, until he’s close to the large, iron-clad wooden door. All it takes is a few pounding knocks on the door with his fists to draw the attention of the guard stationed outside the cell.

“Fuck off with that noise!” the guard snarls. His pock-marked face appears suddenly in the small barred window in the door. “Sit back down before I come in there after you!”

“A priest,” Namjoon says. “I’m owed my last words. I need a priest, as is my right. I must—I need to see a priest.” The guard’s eyes narrow. “For my soul,” Namjoon tacks on. “For absolution.”

Namjoon watches as the guard absently fingers the crude iron chain with an even cruder cross dangling from it around his neck. The guard tucks away the chain when he realizes what he’s doing, but not before giving Namjoon a gruff nod.

The guard turns away, taking a sliver of Namjoon’s hope with him. Just in case the guard disregards the request or decides better of it, Namjoon needs to come up with something else, another plan that might could see him released from this cell without the immediate meeting of the gallows.

Night set in a few hours ago. Even though he can’t see the outside world, Namjoon’s internal clock has always been reasonably accurate. If he had to wager, the moon would be approaching its apex sooner rather than later.

There is still no sign of a priest, not so much as a whisper from beyond the cell. That sliver of hope the guard took with him has festered into a gaping wound of anxiety at this point. Namjoon’s eyes grow heavy, and he’s fighting sleep when whispers carry to him from outside the cell door.

“Open the door at once.”

“Listen, Brother, we have rules—”

“I said open the door!” Friar Park’s voice echoes, rousing a few of the slumped bodies pressed in close to Namjoon.

He perks up, fatigue quickly washing away at hearing his dear friend's voice.

The guard grumbles, “Pompous arse.” But not a second later, the telltale sound of metal grating against metal screeches through the air before the door heaves open. Weak torchlight floods the space, illuminating countless dirty faces and even grimier bodies.

“Namjoon,” Jimin’s voice greets him. “Please, come kneel with me, and let us pray.”

The iron circling Namjoon’s wrists chafes, but the cool air in the hall outside the cell is a welcomed inhale into his lungs as he moves around the guard who is half-blocking the doorway.

“Make it quick, Brother. This one has a courtship set with the hangman. Just as soon as the sun kisses the sky, he’ll be kissing this life goodbye.”

The guard makes an obscene, wet smacking noise before falling into a fit of phlegmy laughter. He slams the cell door and turns his back on Namjoon and Jimin, returning to a small table set off to the side where a discarded, worn deck of playing cards sits half-shuffled.

There is a small alcove near the entrance to the dungeons, created for just this very thing. Namjoon kneels beside Jimin, barely registering how the rough stone digs into his knees.

“Friar Park, there is something that I need—”

“Bow your head. We’ll start with a prayer to—”

Namjoon knows he’s being uncouth in his approach, but there is only so much time left, and if Jimin agrees to this, he’ll need every minute that can be spared. “Jimin, please. I’m sorry, but this can’t wait. I swear to you that I’ll say as many prayers as you wish upon me once I get out of here…but only if I get out of here.”

Jimin’s frown vanishes, his eyes growing round. “Get out of here?” he mumbles as if the words are odd to him. “Right, of course,” he says a little more assuredly.

“Please. If you’ve ever considered yourself my friend…”

It’s there in Jimin’s eyes, the memories of their shared history on the streets and all the ways Namjoon sacrificed in order to see to it that Jimin never met the same fate as Namjoon.

Namjoon can see when Jimin makes up his mind, a small, private smile tipping up the corner of his mouth before he says, “Tell me what you need from me.”

🍂🍂🍂

It’s impossible to sleep. You’ve tossed and turned for hours now, all to no avail. Not that you want to sleep anyway, not when you know what the sun will bring with it in the early hours of the morning. Something you refuse to allow to happen, only haven’t figured out how to prevent from happening. All the ideas you’ve managed to come up with have been blunders, things that simply would only lead to disaster.

So, here you are, lying in your bed and wishing you were anywhere but. The pillows aren’t as soft, and the goosedown mattress might as well be lumped with stones with as much comfort as you find in it now. All you can think about is cold, damp stone floors and the greasy air from the fat-burning torches they use in the dungeons.

You’ve only been to the dungeons below the castle once. The stench of unwashed bodies and wet-moldy rot lingered long after Seokjin allowed you to escape back up the stairs. You know he’s down there…the man who has breathed life back into your existence despite being a total stranger.

Kim Namjoon.

His name tastes as sweet on your tongue as it feels saying it in your mind. You whisper it to the silk canopy hanging over your bed, “Kim Namjoon.”

“Did you say something, My Lady?” Duckie’s voice startles you. She peeks her head through the door that connects her small servant's room to your bedchamber. The bonnet on her head sits askew as if mused from sleep, the loose silver curls of her hair hanging around her robe-covered shoulders. “Trouble sleeping?”

“It’s been a dreadful day,” you inform her with a restless sigh.

You know she doesn’t understand your true meaning, so it doesn’t surprise you when she says, “Terrible criminals ruining the day, trying to steal a Lady’s favor.” Her slippered feet shuffle over the rugs covering your floor as she draws closer, the light from her candle sending long shadows dancing across the tapestry-covered walls. “I could send down for some warm milk. That used to help you sleep as a child.”

“No, Duckie, that’s quite alri—”

Knock, knock, knock.

The soft but succinct rap on your door cuts through your dismissal, drawing your and Duckie’s attention.

“Whoever could that be this late? Nonsense, a day full of nonsense dragging into the night,” she titters a string of comments as she swiftly approaches the door, clearly ready to throttle whoever is on the other side.

The one thing you were not expecting was to find a frazzled and out-of-breath Friar standing in the hall, a large green book clutched to his chest. 

“I beg your pardon, My Lady. May I come in?” He’s pushing past Duckie before you can even respond. “I have something very important to show you. This isn’t proper, I know, me showing up like this, but it could not possibly wait.”

The Brother bustles through your rooms, making a beeline for the small sitting area near the balcony doors. “Friar, what could possibly be so important you must burst in here like a madman? My Lady is in naught but her shift, at least give me a moment to see that she’s properly dressed!” Duckie squawks after him, flapping her hand, which is not holding the candle, as if she could shoo him from the room like she would a fly.

Bewildered eyes swing around the room and land on your maid, the Brother startling like he’s only just now realizing she’s also in the room. “What? No. This cannot wait, I’m sorry, Good Ma’am, but a man’s life is at stake.”

“A man’s life?” you ask eagerly. You tumble from your bed, quickly snatching up your overcoat and shrugging into it. You’re across the room by the time you’ve got the belt hastily tied around your waist. “You bring word of Namjoon?”

If the Friar is at all surprised that you know that name, he doesn’t show it. “Yes, that’s exactly right, My Lady. But we must hurry, there is much I need to tell you and our time is running quite short. Please, please, sit…sit and listen.”

It all makes so much sense now—the feelings, the heartbeat echoing in your chest—soulmates. Something you once believed could only be found in fairytales and fables. You can’t help but think back to how your mother reacted when you asked about the dreams you had, how wistful and lost in her thoughts she seemed, her whimsical words about always daring to dream.

Part of you wants to take a moment to write to her and tell her what Jimin just explained to you. Maybe even show her the book, Prophetia Somniorum, the prophecy of dreams. It explains the connection that goes beyond someone’s heart, right to their very soul.

“So, you see, it’s inevitable. He is to be your future,” Jimin reiterates, closing the thick tome with a whispered thump of finality. “If he falls with the rising sun…well, I’m afraid the repercussions would be devastating.”

Yes. Something else the book provided grave details concerning. Because a soulmate's match is one of the soul, once the bond has begun to form, the life forces of all those involved are irrevocably tethered together. If something untoward happens to one, the other would be grievously depleted, even to the point of perishing.

This whole time, Duckie has paced behind your chair, an unusual quietness in her demeanor. So when she speaks, you’re unsure what you expect to hear. “And you believe this, Friar Park? A man of your faith…you’re certain?”

Jimin—Friar Park—picks at a loose woolen string snagged in the knee of his rough-spun brown robes. He’s quiet for a moment before finally looking up and catching the clinical gaze of your ladymaid. A beautiful smile graces his face as he says, “With all my heart, Verna. With all my heart.”

“It’s settled then,” Duckie announces. She sets her nearly burnt-out candle off on a side table and quickly disappears into your attached dressing chamber. “You’ll need to dress warmly,” she says, reappearing a moment later with a thick velvet and wool garment draped over her arm. “A few minutes, please, Friar Park. I’ll have her ready to flounce into the night in no time.”

“Really?” you laugh softly, bewildered by her proclamation.

“Don’t just sit there, My Lady!” Duckie pipes up, successfully shooing Jimin away this time. He disappears into the hall with a promise to wait while your maid hastily strips you of your nightwear and trusses you into a warm and, most importantly, practical dress.

You’re shoving wisps of your hair beneath a bonnet that’s tied under your chin as you slip from the room. The supple leather gloves on your hands are meant for riding, but they’re warm enough and not nearly as fumbly as the velvet ones Duckie tried to press on you as you laced up your boots.

“You’ve brought friends,” you note, taking in the two cloaked forms framing either side of Jimin.

Duckie stays behind just in case someone checks in on you during the night. It’s for the best, you think, as much as you will miss her motherly presence and charm. She refused to let her tears fall, but the emotion was there in her whispered words of luck and hope.

“A man must need to know when to ask for help. Tonight is very much one of those times, My Lady.”

One of the figures steps forward, the cowl of his hood slipping back as he brushes a gloved hand across his forehead, allowing you a small glimpse of his face. “Name’s Hoseok, My Lady. It’s a pleasure.”

“Pleasantries can wait. We need to move,” the other figure states gruffly. He’s larger than his counterpart. Even with his bulk covered in the dingy green of his cloak, it does little to hide the breadth of his shoulders. “We only have a few minutes at most before they blow the hole.”

“Blow the hole?” you question.

Hoseok gestures with one of his hands for you to follow after the other man, who is now striding down the dimly lit hall. Jimin falls into step behind you. “Don’t mind him, that’s Jeon Jungkook. He might seem prickly, but he’s harmless…mostly.” The name is familiar to you—everyone knows the exiled Jeon Knight. You’re just not certain many have realized that he is now part of the band of highwaymen that had been harrying the King's Road. Hoseok continues before you can give it much more thought than that, “But, to give you the short of it, My Lady, we need a distraction if we’re to get into the dungeon and get out with little issue. The eastern wall of the coffer holdings has a few minor weak spots, and we plan to exploit them.”

That explanation is vague but provides enough information that you can piece together some semblance of what might be coming. Mere seconds later, the stones beneath your feet shudder, and you catch the distant sound of thunder. Only, as the floor continues to quake and rumble, you’re certain that’s not thunder at all.

“Are they using dynamite?” Jimin sputters from behind you. “Those fools will bring down the whole city!”

That earns a chuckle from Hoseok, who shrugs before urging you to continue. “We had to use what we could on such short notice, Brother. Surely, even you can admire that.”

There is no reply from Jimin, not when Jungkook increases his pace, leaving your group solely focusing on breathing and putting one foot in front of the other. It’s not exactly pleasant running in the low-heeled boots you’re wearing, but they were the only somewhat sensible footwear you had with you here at the palace.

Not a single guard is in the hall as you careen around corners and shuffle down sets of stairs. It would seem that every man-at-arms in the palace has been called to whatever distraction is still rocking the far side of the palace.

“How many…holes…are they…blowing?” you huff out the words between puffing breaths that cloud in front of you. The farther down you go in the palace, the deeper the chill that’s hanging in the air.

“As many as it takes,” Hoseok offers, his words far less broken than yours. He lopes at your side with ease, the falls of his feet a mere whisper compared to your ground-pounding steps. It’s apparent these men are used to being light on their feet, all the better for being shadows in Sherwood Forest, you suppose.

The stairwell to the dungeon looms ahead like a gaping maw of darkness waiting to swallow you whole. You don’t give it a second thought, barreling down the stairs after Jungkook, hoping your feet find their way with each step. The last thing anyone needs right now is a tumble to the bottom.

You wind left and left and left some more, spiraling right into the belly of the palace. It’s a dizzying and disorienting experience, hurtling down the steps in the dark. But, eventually, you catch the faintest glow of guttering torchlight in the distance.

It draws you like a beacon, your feet moving impossibly faster. Your stride barely changes as you hit the bottom. Jungkook is sprinting ahead of you, his green cloak billowing wildly. You glance to your right at Hoseok, who still keeps pace beside you. There is a manic smile cutting across his handsome face, and you can’t help but smile, too.

That echoing thump in your chest has been growing, increasing with every step closer to its source. It’s like an erratic war drum now, beating so heavily you can feel every pulse all the way down to your fingertips and toes.

Another blast rocks through the palace, rumbling the ceiling over your head and causing a few loose rocks and dust to tumble from the weaker joist points. Shouts sound from up ahead, gnarled fingers jutting from between the bars in several doors.

“Help us!”

“Let us out!”

“The ceilin’ is comin’ down on ��or heads!”

“Jungkook, is that you? Hoseok?”

The man in question abruptly skids to a stop in front of one of the cell doors. You nearly collide right into the solid muscle of his back, only stopping just short of him thanks to Hoseok hauling back on your arm.

“Namjoon!” Hoseok shouts. “Stand back, as far away from the door as you can.”

“Please don’t tell me you brought dynamite down here, too,” Jimin pants from behind you. “You’ll kill us all on top of bringing down the whole city.”

Hoseok laughs softly, moving to stand beside Jungkook. “Don’t be silly, Brother. We would never waste dynamite where simpler tools can be of use.” He pulls a slender, wrapped bundle from the small of his back.

Simple iron tools are displayed in a row as Hoseok unfurls the roll. Jungkook pulls several small implements from it and goes to work, setting pins against the hinges. With a few quick smacks of a rounded hammer, there are iron pins sticking out from all of the hinge joints.

“Door’s coming down, Namjoon! In three, two…” Jungkook and Hoseok both heave themselves against the solid wooden door. “One!”

The crash is so loud that you slap your hands over your ears. Dust hits your nose a second before the stench of unwashed bodies spills from the gaping doorway. Your heart thuds hard against your ribs as a tall figure lurches into the hallway, shackles hanging from his wrists clinking loudly. Several gnarled and frail bodies follow until the hallway is filled with wheezing and half-starved men.

“We don’t have time to open all the doors,” Hoseok mutters. “Hard to tell who belongs here and doesn’t.”

“Ach, this be the only door ye want open. The rests ‘er full o’murderers and scoundrels alike,” a gravely voice hacks into the silence, answering Hoseok’s question though you’re sure it was rhetorical.

“Shall we be on our way, then?” Jimin asks into the silence that follows.

As if to punctuate his query, the ceiling rumbles once more.

Jungkook swivels on his heel and presses through the gaggle of disoriented men. “Gladly. Those cuffs will have to wait. Let’s go.”

You get your first real glimpse of Namjoon as he steps through the crowd. His gaze immediately lands on you, and time seems to stop. He’s so close; all you have to do is reach out, and you can touch him. You are touching him. Your hands cradle the sides of his face, thumbs tracing over the smooth contours of his jaw.

One moment, you’re standing there, awestruck at having your hands on him, and the next, you’re using that grip to pull him to you. You push up onto your toes and slant your mouth over his. Your eyes slide shut, stars bursting behind your lids, lighting up like bursts of luminous effervescence. Namjoon’s lips are soft, pliable, and welcoming against yours.

A throat clearing draws you back, and you suck in a stilted breath, feeling light and giddy. 

“Hi,” you breathe, blinking up at his wide eyes. You’re far too full of bliss to be embarrassed.

“You’re so beautiful,” is his reply. “I can’t believe you’re here…you’re real. I thought I had dreamt you.”

“I am—”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but we really do need to get out of here. You love birds can sing to one another more later,” Hoseok says, breaking through your bubble.

Reality bounces back around you, and you’re instantly aware of dozens of pairs of eyes looking at you and Namjoon. Your cheeks heat now, and you drop your hands from his face. Only for him to slide one of his shackled hands into yours at your side.

Nothing further is said as you and Namjoon jog down the hallway back towards the spiraling staircase. Already, there are several of the escaped men scrambling their way up the steep steps.

You can’t help stealing glances at Namjoon every few steps. Even in the pitch black of the stairwell, you find yourself glancing over. His presence alone is reassuring, the ever-consistent warmth of his palm pressed tightly to yours.

There is a giddiness that’s bubbling inside of you, itching for a way to get out. Adrenaline is pumping, coursing through your veins, and you want nothing more than to throw your head back and laugh out loud in delight. You don’t, though. Not yet, at least.

Jungkook is a brown and green streak through the night. He seems intimately familiar with the grounds. As a former knight, you expect no less from him. It’s almost too easy how quickly he leads your small band out of the palace grounds. The dark, moss-colored leaves of Sherwood Forest are overhead before you realize it.

A few of the escapees follow behind, sharing low words amongst themselves, only to be hushed several times by Jimin. You’re surprised the Friar is still with you. Though, the fact he helped Namjoon—and you—to begin with, gives you an inkling of his connection to these men—this band of merry men, as you’d like to think of them now, highwaymen no longer.

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon urges, pulling you to a gentle stop. Everyone else continues on. Hoseok is the only one casting a curious look back, but Namjoon just waves for him to keep going.

“What is it?” you ask. You’re not sure, but you can’t imagine you’ve made it all that far into the forest. If you stay here, you could get caught. Undoubtedly, the guards are in pursuit by now. You glance around anxiously.

Namjoon loosens his grip from your hand to cup your face. The chain connecting his shackled wrists brushes against the column of your throat. “I couldn’t go another moment without doing this…again.”

The word is barely out of his mouth before he kisses you this time. It’s brief but no less fierce. Fire ignites deep in your belly, and the echoing heartbeat in your chest thunders into a pounding rhythm.

The whisper of your name on Namjoon’s lips is like the most beautiful sonnet. It breathes life into you. He says it again, fervently as he searches your face. “This is truly real, isn’t it?”

“It’s real,” you confirm with a smile.

“I’ll spend all of my days learning every beat of your heart,” Namjoon swears. “If you’ll have me.”

“You are mine, as I am yours. I’ll follow you wherever you go. Take me into your world.”

Sherwood Forest stills for a moment as if the entire wood is holding its breath and waiting. And as Namjoon nods, slipping his hand back into yours, and you disappear with him beneath the boughs, the forest exhales a sigh of relief, coming to life once more.

6 Months Later, Sherwood Forest in the Spring

Life in the little city suspended in the treetops of Sherwood Forest has been more than you could ever have imagined. At first, you were intimidated and anxious, traversing the wood and rope bridges between the platforms. But you grew in confidence and now are pretty sure you could walk from one end of the community to the other with your eyes closed. You’ve yet to test that, though, of course. You might have given up your station as a Lady, but you’ve still got your wits.

You’d be remiss in saying you haven’t had a single worry since stealing away into the night with Namjoon and his band of merry men. In the beginning, you entertained many worries. All of which have since been eased.

For weeks, you jumped at every little sound and brush of the breeze thinking it Yoongi and Taehyung come to steal you back to Seokjin. Jimin assured you after a month had gone by that your name had practically been erased from any and all stories. 

It’s like you never even existed, a runaway, lost to the world. When you asked him about your parents, he told you that they’ve gone through a mourning period, but there hasn’t been much else said about it. You love your parents dearly, but perhaps it’s for the best this way. Luckily, Duckie and all her motherly energy joined you shortly after you were whisked away. She insisted and pestered Jimin so much that he had no choice but to show her the way through the Sherwood Forest.

For a while there, you also weren’t sure how you would be welcomed among Namjoon’s community. Nor where your place would be exactly. Sure, you’d be by Namjoon’s side. But you wanted more in your life than just that; you needed purpose, some way to contribute.

So, you decided to offer your services and knowledge to help Namjoon. Now, you work closely with Jungkook and help secure the goods and services needed. You’ve been so successful in this endeavor that a small team of masons has even come in to begin excavating and renovating the stone ruins.

By this time next year, there should be enough rooms prepared so that some of the families can move down out of the treetops. It will especially be suitable for the elderly, who have had limited mobility so high up.

“Flower for your thoughts?” Namjoon asks. You blink away your drifting thoughts, focusing on the brilliant purple petals in front of your face. You nod, and with delicate fingers, Namjoon weaves the flower into your hair just above your ear.

“I was just thinking about my time here.”

Namjoon’s steps don’t falter as he continues to lead you through the stone ruins that spread out a short distance from his humble community in the treetops. The flowing cream-colored gown you’re wearing swishes around your feet with every step, the lacy train held tight in your hand to keep it from snagging. Your other hand is clasped steadfast in Namjoon’s.

You haven’t let go of his hand since Jimin tied them together with a length of velvety ribbon and pronounced you as one. It’s been a magical day so far. One that you’re sure will only grow more so if the grin on Namjoon’s face is any indication.

“A marvelous time it’s been. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. I wonder how Seokjin fares,” Namjoon laughs with the last part, giving you a charming, coy smile.

There was one last thing you wanted to accomplish before genuinely giving your life over to your own wants and desires, which was to see Prince Seokjin and his cronies put into their proper places.

The courier you sent last month should have well and truly reached King Seokjoong by now. You were able to provide him with an extensive account of everything nefarious that Seokjin and Taehyung have orchestrated. Having once been a Lady has its perks.

“I’m sure there will be plenty of correspondence about it with our next bushel of goods from Jimin,” you trail off, frowning as Namjoon winds you further and further through the ruins. “Where are we going?” you ask.

Namjoon leads you through a few more turns, past half-constructed scaffolding and piles of building supplies. The masons have taken a few days off, the whole settlement in jovial celebration for this special day.

“We are….” Namjoon sing-songs the words, drawing them out as he pulls you around a corner. “Going right here.”

You blink slowly, momentarily struck with astonishment.

Before you is a romantic dreamscape with blossoming spring flowers and mounds of silky pillows. A tinkling spring cascades in a series of small waterfalls coming off a slick cliff face that forms one wall of the sprawling space. Ivy-covered stones make up the other walls, and the doorway you’re standing in is cut into one of them. The floor is polished marble, swept free of debris and litter. Alcove windows mark the two far walls, and clay pots of blossoming purple flowers cover the elegant sills.

In the center of the open space, there is a large platform bed covered in a mountain of pillows and downy blankets. A washing basin and pitcher sit on a small wooden table in the corner by the waterfall. Riverstones are stacked about three paces high, creating a small retaining wall that keeps the water from the falls contained and from flooding into the room.

“What is this place?” you ask in wonder, gazing up at the thick panels of stained glass overhead that allow in a cascade of colorful late-day sun rays.

“The histories I’ve managed to find indicate that this part of the ruins was where the royal family resided. They used the natural falls as a life source, drinking the crisp water to ensure their health and longevity. Now, it’s yours…if you want it.” Namjoon gives you a sheepish look. “I asked the masons to restore this area first. They’ve been working in secret for weeks to make sure it was safe.”

You move within the room, your fingers slipping from Namjoon’s as you make a slow turn to take in the whole space. “This is for me?” you ask, finally facing him once more. “Truly?”

He answers you with a kiss, closing the distance you created between the two of you and wrapping you up in his arms.

“Truly,” Namjoon murmurs against your lips before deepening the kiss until you’re breathless and your lips are swollen and wet.

The smart brown and green doublet Namjoon donned today slips easily from his shoulders under the insistence of your trembling fingers. The fashionable shoes, hose, and underthings Hoseok pressed upon him go next. You welcome the press of his body against yours, moaning into his kiss as his hands disrobe you with just as much ease.

The fragrance from the lavender plants in the pots and the running jasmine that mingles with the ivy is a heady attribute to the spicy cinnamon and clove scent of Namjoon. You like to tease him about the amount of spiced tea he consumes. But, when it makes his lips taste like fire and his skin smell like warmth and comfort, you bless the merchants who introduced the drink to him.

Namjoon follows you down onto the soft mound of pillows, his bulk fitting into the clasp of your thighs. The heft between his legs sits heavy against your belly, leaking wetness every time he presses his hips against yours. You writhe beneath him, digging your heels against the small of his back, silently begging him to give you what you both so desperately want.

“I love you,” you whisper, lips finally breaking from Namjoon’s.

Those dark-honeyed eyes with their endless depths bore into yours as Namjoon shifts over you, using one of his hands to ready himself against your entrance. “And I you, my love…my soulmate.”

Your lips part, a silted gasp-turned-moan escaping as he gently presses forward, sliding into your body. He’s gentle, staying his hips to let you adjust before pressing even deeper until he’s finally sheathed to the hilt, and you’re both gasping.

The light coming in through the stained glass overhead bathes Namjoon in a myriad of tones that shift and darken as the sun sinks lower in the sky. It feels like he touches your soul as his hands move over your body, his lips plucking and drawing out each and every pliant moan and shudder.

You are finite and yet infinite all at once. Every breath you take is spelled with triumph and disaster, a coalescing of the cosmos that you know could rip apart the universe with its power. Your body breaks against his over and over again like a tempest against a neverending shore. Only this shore is full of life and light, drowning out all your worries and leaving nothing but beauty and decadence in its place.

With one final, desperate cry, Namjoon gives himself over to you. His liquid heat floods your body, and you welcome it with a languid smile, luxuriating in the bliss you’re sharing. Namjoon cradles you to him, stroking the glistening beads of perspiration from your skin.

“Are you happy?” you ask him after some time. The sun has long since slunk beneath the horizon, its bright light and warmth replaced by the calm serenity of the moon. It hangs full and silvery overhead, creating its own beautiful tapestry of colors through the stained glass.

Namjoon turns over onto his back, draping an arm around your waist and pulling you close to his side. His hand absently brushes over the lush curve of your waist as he stares up at the night sky.

“Mm. How many stars do you think are up there?” he asks.

You cast a glance in the direction he’s looking, letting your eyes sweep over the endless number of sparkling facets spreading as far as you can see. “Too many to count.”

“Well, then, the amount of happiness I have right now rivals the amount of stars in the sky.”

He smiles, those eyes twinkling with the reflection of his joy. “Tell me about it,” you urge, your voice low and sultry as you push up and slide a knee over his hips. “Tell me of what your heart speaks.”

His words come whispered and fevered, full of truth and passion, punctuated by the sounds of your bodies coming together as one. It echoes through the forest, a proclamation to nature and the heavens above, a love sparked and forever kindled beneath the boughs.

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[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

📖 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱

𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐚𝐧

Home Invasion Series - Yoongi / Jungkook / Namjoon / Hobi / Jin / Jimin / Taehyung (semi hiatus)

Ex boyfriend series - Namjoon

Yoongi's birthday fluff

playing Animal Crossing with you (OT7)

𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝑺𝒐𝒐𝒃𝒊𝒏

Cursed Prince Soobin

vacation with Soobin

girl dad Soobin

Soobin late to his baby's birth

apple picking with Soobin

dad!Soobin + baby hands

𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒋𝒖𝒏

Yeonjun suggestive fluff

mafia-dad Yeonjun

Yeonjun determined to be a girl dad

Yeonjun - on camera, off camera

protecting mafia boss Yeonjun (e2l)

girl dad Yeonjun

ex-boyfriend Yeonjun voicemail

new dad Yeonjun

royal reader x nobleman Yeonjun

Bound - princess reader x royal guard Yeonjun

Three Cursed Princes (Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Kai)

wild fae boy finds you in the snow forest

𝑩𝒆𝒐𝒎𝒈𝒚𝒖

Between the Pages (prince Beomgyu)

yandere!Beomgyu

med student Beomgyu x coma patient reader

Boy dad Beomgyu / more

Beomgyu aquarium meet-cute

Beomgyu + your parents

werewolf Beomgyu x kitsune reader thought

Moulin Rouge Beomgyu (suggestive)

Three Cursed Princes (Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Kai)

𝑻𝒂𝒆𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏

witch reader x witch hunter taehyun

royal stablehand Taehyun

famous soccer player Taehyun

Raven Prince

Taehyun who sees visions of the future

Taehyun as Pokemon

Cursed Prince Taehyun

𝑯𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑲𝒂𝒊

boyfriend Huening Kai + plushies

betrothed Prince Kai

prince!huening kai

Three Cursed Princes (Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Kai)

𝒂𝒍𝒍/𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔

Playing Animal Crossing

tucking you in before they leave for a night schedule

hybrid!txt protecting their human partner

husband!txt trying to be a handy man

taking you to Build-a-Bear

when you’re sick

hybrid!txt when you smell like someone else

dad!txt + Christmas

toxic ex-husband txt

"don't marry him"

when he thought he'd moved on

university Taebin love triangle

hybrid ot5 thoughts

Txt x vampire reader

Three Cursed Princes (Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Kai)

Txt in the Hunger Games

Txt as Animal Crossing villagers

Sci-fi/fantasy one-shot series: Bound (Yeonjun) / Salvaged (Kai) / Smuggled (Beomgyu) / Changed (Taehyun) / Shouldered (Soobin) in progress

𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦

[minisugakoobies]

ME AND NAMJOON AND HIM PINNING ME AGAINST THE WALL PLS 👀👀👀🙈

I combined these requests because they worked so perfectly together! Hope y'all don't mind 💕

Title: A Dangerous Game Pairing: Royal Advisor!Namjoon x Queen!Reader Genre: smut, forbidden romance, Royalty!AU Rating: M(18+) Warnings: groping, making out, a little light fingering, infidelity (reader has been forced into marriage with a horrible King)

"Quiet, love, or they'll hear you."

A shudder rolls through you as Namjoon whispers in your ear. He's right, of course. If you're any louder, the guards standing outside your chambers will hear and come investigate. They'll barge right through that door, swords swinging, not knowing that the tiny whimpers falling from your lips are cries of pleasure, not pain.

They won't care, either, if you're caught with the king's most trusted advisor's hands beneath your gown. It's a dangerous game the two of you are playing right now. And Namjoon appears to be winning, given the way he smirks at you while his dancing hands caress your breasts, thumbs flicking over your pert nipples.

"That's better," he sighs in relief when you fall silent. "Now, my Queen, tell me what you want."

What you want is for him to tear the nightgown from your body, throw you on your bed, and have his unholy way with you. That's not just what you want, it's what you need. But a lifetime of holding your tongue and doing as you're told, not as you please, makes it difficult to voice these desires.

"I - I want…" you begin, but falter when his palm skims over the swell of your bare belly. It's so wrong, the way he's touching you as if he has any right, any claim to your body. You belong to the King, that miserable old wretch who keeps you locked away in this room day and night, only ever allowing you to leave to perform your royal duties.

Fuck the King, a quiet voice in your mind hisses.

"Come, love, no need to be shy," Namjoon purrs. You love the way he looks at you. While the King views you as a duty to be done, no matter how much he repels you, Namjoon sees you as a person - and one to be treasured, at that. He's told you often enough that your presence in this palace and this realm is a gift - and now, as he smiles at you, you know he means it.

He steps closer, backing you towards the wall, trapping you against it. He dares to lower his lips to your bare neck, hot kisses blazing against your cold skin. Your room is always chilly this time of morning, but you don't care, basking in the heat of Namjoon's strong body as he leans into you.

"Do you wish to hear what I want?" he asks, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles, one by one. Relieved, you nod. "I want to explore your body… if you'll let me."

Despite your firmly pressed lips, another whine escapes you. Swiftly, he kisses you, hastily swallowing your noises. You fall into him, eyes closing, lost in the sensation of his wet tongue as it glides along yours. His left hand is still drifting lower, lower….

With a gasp, you break the kiss and glance down, watching as his hand disappears between your legs. He traces a finger through your sodden folds, back and forth, and you can't stop your hips from canting forward, seeking more of his touch.

"It appears that you want this too, my Queen. But I need to hear you say it." You're so distracted by his left hand that you don't even notice the right one is gripping your chin until he tips your head, forcing you to meet his gaze. His dragon eyes smolder as he licks his lips. "Words, love. I need to hear you say the words."

"T-take me. Namjoon." His expression darkens. It ignites a fire within you. "Now."

"As my Queen demands."

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[thedoctorsthings]

Power to the King teaser

summary: in the capital city of a small Nordic kingdom in the 10th century the king is slowly descending into madness. His wife recently died and he remarries. His sons Yoongi and Jungkook desperately try to keep his destructive tendencies in control while dealing with their own destructive romances.

featuring: crown prince Yoongi, second born prince Jungkook, royal guards Hoseok and Namjoon, druids Taehyung and Seokjin and farmer boy Jimin.

this series will be 7 parts divided into chapters. One part for each member. We'll follow them into their journey of meeting the love of their lives in a 10th century viking settlement. beneath you'll find the trope of each story

Jungkook: Prince x chambermaid (forbidden romance)

Taehyung: Druid x forest nymph (friends to lovers)

Jimin: farmer boy x princess (forbidden romance)

Namjoon: royal guard x barmaid (no idea what trope this is except for king being a destructive dick)

Hoseok: royals guard x druid's apprentice (promised to another)

Yoongi: Crown prince x noble girl (forced marriage/enemies to lovers)

Seokjin: Druid x king's wife (forbidden love, my personal favourite)

disclaimers: angst, smut but only implied never explicitly described, historical inaccuracies (i'm not an expert and i don't have time to do excessive research), lot's of dramatic typical period drama stuff, people getting wounded, war, yearning etc

coming somewhere in february probably cuz i got exams now

[bonny-kookoo]

if your doing drabble for Lacrymariaolor i was wondering if you could perhaps write one where someone tried to take/kidnap the mc and jungkook saves her<3 i luv u

We love drama

As he walks back into the throne room, where you're supposed to be still waiting for him on the comfortable and royally decorated spot where you sleep most of the time, it's empty.

But what makes his mind spiral instantly, is the faint smell, and the sight of drops of blood on the marbled floor in front of him. You've been taken.

Someone's a snake.

Jungkook immediately opens the main doors, finding the nearest guards to pull closer- but both who were supposed to be on duty are gone, not found as he looks around the halls.

But it doesn't matter.

He doesn't need any help to find you.

Running down the halls and out of the back gardens, he spots you being carried like nothing but a lump of flesh over the shoulder of someone he doesn't know- the man turning, before he realizes he's been caught red handed.

But even as he starts to run, there's no chance of him getting away. There was never a hunt to begin with.

The man let's you slip off his shoulder, having you fall harshly to the ground and earning nothing but heightened anger and growing aggression from the king now openly charging at him. He doesn't need a sword, or any other weapon other than his own body to attack- blind rage not even letting him ask why he did what he did, or who he is, or who he did this for.

All he knows is that he's got his hand around the man's throat, grabbing harshly before he lets go for just a second.

The scene is gruesome just moments after, both the anger ebbing down slowly and the exhaustion of his body after ruining every bone and muscle of the body underneath his boot catching up to him as Jungkook turns to see you still unmoving on the ground, large dark birds equal to those having tried to enter your bedroom many nights before curiously circling around you, hopping closer and closer the more time you're staying there without anyone else around.

It angers him. You're not dead. You're not ready to be taken yet.

And it seems as if they know, because the first step Jungkook takes towards you forces all to scramble away in haste, leaving you alone for him to lean down and turn you over.

There's a wound on the side of your face. Scratches, and as he touches your head, he notices the warm dark red liquid staining your hair and his hand.

But you're not dead. And you won't be.

He will fight death until it tries to take him as well.

He will look after you from now on, making sure you don't lose anymore blood, and won't ever be left out of sight again. There is just no way he will let anyone take you from him.

He carries you in his arms into the palace again, walking past a very concerned Namjoon who tries eagerly to help him with you- but he ends up just silently following, well aware that Jungkook won't be able to properly listen for a good moment or two anyways.

Without much regard for your blood staining the white sheets and blankets in your shared bed, he lays you down, curls up his body around you. It doesn't matter much to him what Namjoon is doing while he holds you. All that matters is that he does hold you.

So he doesn't notice the way your wounds are treated, skin cleaned and inspected before Namjoon leaves to fetch more supplies.

And when you wake up, you feel pretty miserable- but alive.

"Jungkook.?" You wonder quietly, and he just holds you a but tighter, nose running from side to side in the back of your neck as he quietly holds you.

"He's a bit out of it at the moment. It will take a bit for him to be more aware again." Namjoon quietly explains, sitting across from the bed on a chair. "You've been knocked down, have taken a bit of a hit to the head, and lost some blood. I believe he doesn't know that you gain it back over time."

"Doesn't.. don't you?" You wonder, your voice making Jungkook behind you squeeze you a bit tighter.

"Not the same as a human body. You make it out of nothing it seems like, while our bodies need specialized help to replenish our blood." Namjoon explains. "More as to.. well, we don't really have blood. It's similar, but not the same. But to make it simple to explain, we'll just keep it at that."

You adjust your position a bit, and Jungkook behind you moves one of his legs over yours as if to stubbornly keep you close.

"He'll be fine." Namjoon reassures. "And you'll be too. He has to learn first that your body is stronger than he believes." He chuckles, before he leaves the room. "Though, I doubt that once he does, he will protect you less." He jokes on his way out.

All before you decide to simply turn around in Jungkook's arms to hold onto him as well-

And sleep where it's safe.

[foxymoxynoona]

To Kill A King (Chapter 15)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

Summary: What’s more charming than Prince Seokjin? Nothing, obviously. Except maybe the rotating palace guests who each smile and bow and charm in an attempt to hide their true motives. Fortunately Seokjin has a close circle of friends (well, servants) who watch his back and endure his humor and help him navigate the tumultuous seas of heartbreak, love, and an arranged marriage, not necessarily in that order. If only they had helped him keep a closer eye on his bride-to-be’s handmaiden, who arrives with her own agenda… or maybe it would have been better if he had noticed her less? One thing is certain as this royal drama of the heart plays out: there are many people competing to kill a king.

Main Pairing: Prince Seokjin x Female OC Genre: Historical Fantasy World, political conspiracy, romance Rating: 18+ Content Warnings & story tags: includes explicit sex (mxf, fxf), possibly graphic violence/injury later, love and sex triangles or uh quadrangles?, sort of e 2 l, sort of bodyguard trope, sort of arranged marriage, a lot of plotting murder (it’s literally in the title), maybe character death, grief, pining, angst, love, oral (f & m receiving), public sex, I don’t know everything yet as the story is long and still being written

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NOTE: check out the Character & Setting Cheat Sheet for a refresher on who’s who

Nasimyu stopped beneath the towering archway built of dark-eyed yellow sunbursts woven together. It was magnificent. Actually as lovely as Seokjin had made it out to be –which he seemed to read from her face as her hand in his elbow forced him to stop too. He only glanced briefly up at the arch and then gave her a close-lipped smile that made his cheeks puff up. He looked ridiculous, like a child, not like her soon-to-be-husband of a future king. 

She drew in a deep breath and looked away from him. She needed to stop letting her mind run away with annoyance over stupid stuff. Everything was going as planned and Seokjin, she was beginning to suspect, might not be the selfish villain her father had led her to believe, and now silver threads shot through the fabric of her future. Things were looking less bleak. Seokjin might look and behave ridiculously, but he was good in bed, and he was potentially willing to just let her do the ruling she wanted to, and the day was bright and hot and only a little humid, just the way she liked it. And everything was so yellow, golden, perfect. 

Behind them, their guards stopped. The entourage of servants stopped. Mindeulle and Namjoon –whom Nasimiyu was icily tolerating for the day– stopped. 

King Dong-gun did not. He stepped around them, striding through the arch as if it had been set up specifically to welcome the royals (perhaps it had), his beaming face turned up as he waved at the townspeople who cheered for him. They tossed petals down from upper stories of the buildings, a hailstorm of clumps of yellow petals that made her laugh. It was a romantic idea, at least.

Obviously they must put the folks who licked the boots of the monarchy at the front. Nasimiyu was shocked to see so many pretending to adore the sight of the king. A woman fanned herself when King Donggun bobbed his head in her direction. Two men guffawed and shared a grin after the king slapped them on the shoulders as he passed. Hands reached for him until his guard nudged him safely to the center of the road and they carried forward through the shower.

“They love him?” Nasimiyu murmured to herself, baffled. It was a pretense. Most people in the kingdom, she knew for a fact, despised him. King Donggun and his excesses, his complacency, his casual cruelty.

“They don’t see him often,” Seokjin said as he gently tugged her forward. “He rarely leaves the palace these days, unless it’s to hunt in the caves. Brings the fun to himself usually but for this he comes out. I suspect he’s rather… pickled.”

“Pickled?”

“Er, drunk,” he clarified.

“Right now?! It’s mid-morning!” There, that seemed more in-line with what she expected of the King. 

No, this wasn’t the time nor place. She quickly adjusted her expression from scowl to instead a broad, open smile. People were watching her and Seokjin. This was, after all, their first public outing together.

It was very important she impress her people.

She waved and almost missed Seokjin’s explanation, “Well, it’s my mother’s birthday tomorrow.”

“Shouldn’t you smile and wave?” she whispered back. “People are seeing us together for the first time.”

“Oh right.” His face, thoughtful for a moment, shifted quickly into a broad grin. It was inspirational how quickly he dropped the obviously sad topic. She recalled vaguely the Sunflower Festival was something his mother had loved but forgotten it under the stress of this first outing. She’d had a special gown made for this, and woven sunflowers into a crown across her hair, and was appeased now to see she had not overestimated and overdressed.

Music murmured in the distance, louder as they traveled down the main street. Temporary stalls had sprung up, townfolk selling flowers and roasted nuts and sausages on a stick and glass pendants and leather satchels and anything else you could think of. Side streets showed similar, branching away from this main thoroughfare. And everywhere, sunflowers. Everywhere. They reached a square and the fountain in the center was absolutely buried, the water nothing but a pool of sunflowers rippling as small children grabbed at them. 

Nasimiyu felt the eyes on her and loved it. She held her chin high and the prince close, sporting the soft smile of a benefactor, eager for everyone to see how compatible she was with the royal family. Seokjin certainly played his part, pointing out things to her as if she didn’t have eyes of her own to notice, but at least it gave the impression of a man eager to please his adored. She nodded encouragement –yes she saw the man playing the accordion (a little grating, shouldn’t he go down a side street?), yes the children in their frocks were adorable, yes the dog wearing a giant fabric sunflower around his face was so funny. Seokjin laughed, delighted at it and leaned forward, trying to coax the dog close. The owner was beside himself at this attention and practically melted at Seokjin’s feet while Seokjin laid his praise of the dog on so thick Nasimiyu thought the man would realize how fake he was. It had to be fake. No one was that enamored by a dog in a costume…

“Do you want a sausage?” Seokjin asked and at first Nasimiyu thought he meant the dog. But he rose quickly and touched her arm and his whole face glowed with joy. “Or roasted peanuts? Or do you like candy floss more?”

Nasimiyu realized with shock that Seokjin was offering to get her food from one of the roadside stands. Anything could be in that food! The meat could be undercooked or the peanuts could be infested with bugs, you wouldn’t even know. It wasn’t that they didn’t have street vendors in Marvono but she certainly wasn’t eating from them.

But he looked so hopeful about it she almost felt bad to crush his enthusiasm with, “I don’t think I do. Thank you.”

Behind him, Namjoon let out a sigh, “Ah the fried chicken is back, I can smell it. Where is it?”

“Is that the only reason you came?” Mindeulle tittered.

“If you’re going right to the candy floss, have someone take you– no, just wait, we’ll get that first and then go find the chicken,” Namjoon said.

Seokjin craned his neck before nodding, “It’s over there. I think it’s the same family as last year.”

“Do I get a beer first and let it get warm while I get chicken, or get chicken and then it’s cooled off by the time I get a beer?” Namjoon sighed. 

Seokjin looked pensive and then dubious –playfully so, mouth twisted into a pucker, eyes narrowed– and then sighed with a smile of surrender, “If you have an idea just say it. Don’t play like a flirt around me.”

“I’ll get beers if you get the chicken.”

“Don’t you have people who can… fetch these things for you?” Nasimiyu pointed out, gaze sliding to their servants standing uselessly behind them. Her own maid might not be very knowledgeable here but surely that Jimin could figure it out. 

“It’s good for the people to see us among them,” Seokjin countered. She didn’t think that had to mean waiting in line like a nobody. He gestured across the square where, to her utter disbelief, King Donggun stood in line for a mead barrel, hands resting on his belly, fingers twitching impatiently.

“Impossible,” Nasimiyu gasped, giving Seokjin her look of disbelief.

It was Mindeulle who giggled, “Isn’t it crazy to see the king standing in line? But it’s because of the Queen, isn’t it?”

“Yes, he loved my mother so much he was willing to stand in lines,” Seokjin laughed, then elaborated, “This whole festival was for my mother. She loved sunflowers and she missed being…” He searched for the word before suggesting, “Ordinary.”

“She was never ordinary. She was a noble from birth,” Namjoon countered. “From Rinsk.”

“Yes but she was raised very simply,” Seokjin said. “Riding horses, gardening, camping for fun. She had to make her own bed once a week –my grandmother insisted on it, that it was the foundation of being a good queen.”

“And did that get passed on to you?” Nasimiyu tried to tease.

Seokjin nodded, “Oh yes, I’m very good at making a bed. Clean sheets are one of the greatest feelings in the world. Don’t you think that?”

“Well… yes. I think so too,” she admitted. Couldn’t argue with that. At home servants would fan the bed so when she’d slip into it naked at the end of a long hot day, it felt like the coolest caress across every inch of her skin. 

King Donggun let out a happy laugh that reached them across the square as he found himself at the front of the line for mead.

She pressed, “Does he really pretend to be a commoner for the day?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Seokjin laughed. “You see his clothing and his entourage. He’ll have patience for exactly three lines, I bet. It was more when he had my mother to stand in line with. They’d go around all day eating the food, drinking mead and beer, listening to music… I got to run wild for the day too. My brother and I were nearly street urchins for eight hours except for our pockets full of silvers. We ate ourselves sick.” He sighed at fond memories she did not poke at. 

“You could be the kind of king who does this all the time,” Mindeulle pointed out and Seokjin gave her such a fond smile that Nasimiyu almost felt jealous of it.

“I suspect I’ll be too busy once I’m king… but who says I don’t lead a secret double life as a commoner already?”

Namjoon sighed dramatically and teased, “Do you really still spend all your time reading those picture-books? That’s who you mean, isn’t it?”

“Kalamouche?” Mindeulle asked. “They’re charming. I’m glad you still find moments of joy, Prince Seokjin. Nasimiyu will need to as well, though I don’t think it’s the food here for her. Why don’t you go get your chicken and beer, we’ll find something else to do.”

Nasimiyu hesitated. The whole point was to look besotted with Seokjin, to exude an air of calm and benevolence and wisdom as a future ruler. No one would think oh look at our future queen, we’re so relieved if she was just running around with Mindeulle.

But now Seokjin and Namjoon were making a gentleman’s agreement to divide and conquer –apparently Seokjin could tolerate Namjoon after all, once there was food involved– and in short order they and their entourage were gone, and Nasimiyu had only Mindeulle and her own entourage for company.

“It’s all right not to trust the food,” Mindeulle assured her. “Though some of it is very good. I usually let my brother be the tester before I try anything but let’s go that way and we can look at the flower statues. Maybe you’ll see a pastry that catches your eye.”

“Is it a competition?” Nasimiyu guessed as they wandered down a side street. Statues of dancing women and galloping horses and curly seashells lined one side of the road, all carefully constructed of beautiful blue and pink and white blooms. It felt oddly off-theme considering the sunflowers everywhere else but pretty all the same. Where did they even get these spring-looking blooms at this time of year?

“These come in from Therepin. The summers are cooler there so the blooms last longer, especially far to the south.”

“Not near the border,” Nasimiyu murmured, thinking of marching soldiers crushing the buds underfoot.

“They’re the most beautiful there, I hear. I’ve never been anywhere close of course. I’m sure these are very expensive to bring here but no expense is spared for the Sunflower Festival.”

“I can see that.”

“It’s romantic, isn’t it?” Mindeulle pressed. “I think for one day, the King tries to pretend that his queen is still here, maybe just down another side street…” They both stopped to look over their shoulders because Mindeulle had a wistfulness in her voice. The pause let Nasimiyu realize that her guard were doing such a marvelous job at keeping a perimeter around her that it let her forget just how bustling the streets were. No ghosts of queens, just hundreds of townfolk gawking at her as they passed around her bubble of space

“People sure do stare,” she pointed out. “I don’t have anything between my teeth, do I?”

She knew she didn’t, and Mindeulle only beamed at her, “I think they’re surprised at how beautiful you are.”

“You don’t need to flatter me,” Nasimiyu said, instinctively insulted by such a compliment from the lovely Mindeulle. Her long, shiny black hair caught the light, cascading around her shoulders and down her back, all dark ink instead of the warm hues hidden in Dulce’s long waves. Her heart-shaped face was without flaw or blemish save for one beauty spot beside her nose that managed to be the loveliest imperfection. Nasimiyu had no doubts about her own beauty, but felt suddenly self conscious if Mindeulle felt like Nasimiyu needed comforting.

Mindeulle actually covered her mouth and laughed, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you with a compliment! I only meant that you look especially goddess-like when you have sunflowers in your hair, their color against your skin and hair is just… breath-taking, that’s all I meant,” she rushed out. “You already look like a queen.”

“Without the prince by my side, no one knows who I am.”

“I think they know,” Mindeulle insisted, then nudged Nasimiyu up the street with a gasp of, “Oh, but you should try those. Will you?”

“Will I try what?”

Mindeulle cheeks dimpled on either side of her smile as she leaned around the line at a stall that smelled so strongly of sugar that Nasimiyu wrinkled her nose. She was not big on sweets, even when the sweets weren’t hawked on a street corner like spoons or boots or whatever it was people typically bought from street vendors. But Mindeulle practically vibrated in place as she dug coins out of the purse at her waist and purchased four skewers of candied fruit.

“Grapes or strawberries?” she asked as they stepped aside. Nasimiyu glanced over her shoulder at her guards who looked stoic and alert and maybe like she was stupid for coming here. Her maid watched with open curiosity, as Nasimiyu’s food preferences were well known among her staff. Mindeulle must know she didn’t prefer sweets, she thought she must have said so before, but had clearly forgotten in her own enthusiasm.

“I suppose… strawberries,” Nasimiyu chose, only to correct, “No, grapes.” Sometimes grapes were sour and that was a little better than the cloying sweetness. She could pretend like she was drinking sweet wine maybe. No, she didn’t even like sweet wine.

“Have one of each,” Mindeulle insisted, handing her two sticks, like she had planned this all along. She took hold of a candied grape between her teeth and slid it right off the stick. Nasimiyu’s eyebrows raised. Wasn’t Mindeulle usually so proper and careful? Surely Namjoon would have something to say about his little sister biting and sliding fruit just right there on the street. 

By Mindeulle’s grin, Nasimiyu wondered if she had the same thought. There was something to her smile as she chewed, giggling,

“Listen, you can hear the sugar crack.” She opened her mouth and bit down. The sugar did audibly crack, and juice flooded Mindeulle’s mouth, and Nasimiyu couldn’t hide her shocked laughter.

“Mindeulle!”

“Don’t scold me like my mother,” she tittered. “Try it.”

Nasimiyu did, goaded into it by Mindeulle’s brazenness. She tried a strawberry first, trying to be a little less salacious as she bit the fruit off the thin stick. The sticky sweetness in her mouth made her lips pucker and her cheeks suck in. 

“That’s… very sweet,” she admitted.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” 

Why was she eating this? But Mindeulle’s enthusiasm convinced Nasimiyu to try a grape too and agree with Mindeulle they were really something remarkable. 

Just as Nasimiyu was trying to figure out how to subtly chuck the fruit away, a familiar voice called, “Princess Nasimiyu!” Lidmila floated to her side, admitted there by the guards at a nod of Nasimiyu’s that was probably not necessary. “Oh, I love those.”

“Try them,” Nasimiyu quickly said and thrust them into Lidmila’s hands. A loud street band wandered past so she couldn’t hear whatever Lidmila or Mindeulle shouted next, but Lidmila quickly popped the remaining fruits into her mouth and Mindeulle didn’t even seem to notice. Nasimiyu needed something to wash her mouth free of that sugar –solved when another divine intervention sent Seokjin and Namjoon their way, each holding fried chicken on a stick and a mug of beer.

“Is all the food on sticks?” Nasimiyu asked, followed immediately by, “May I have a sip of your beer, Seokjin?”

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry I didn’t get you one. Do you… like beer?” he asked. She did not particularly, and after only a sip wondered if the fruit hadn’t been the better lingering taste. He chuckled as she handed it quickly back and instead held the skewer out. “Chicken?”

“No thank you, I’m quite full.”

“Oh let’s walk down that way and see if there’s a play on,” Mindeulle suggested.

Namjoon snickered and teased his sister, “A puppet show?”

“Or a comedy.”

“The comedies won’t start until later, it’s only puppet shows right now.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s not even noon yet.”

“There’s one way to settle this,” Seokjin suggested and forged ahead. Namjoon and Mindeulle followed, and Nasimiyu found herself shockingly left behind with Lidmila.

“Did he just forget me?” Nasimiyu gasped.

“No, he looked back for you!” Lidmila assured her. “He sees you’re with me. Probably he’s trying to keep Namjoon from bothering you.” 

This placated Nasimiyu, who didn’t mind walking with Lidmila anyway. 

“Do you want me to suggest something else to eat?” Lidmila asked. “I think you don’t like candied fruit much or beer.”

“I don’t but I don’t think I’m brave enough yet for anything else.”

The crowds spread out further as they returned to a main street, walking vaguely in the wake of the others. They passed a balcony with a woman singing opera, which surprised Nasimiyu; she hadn’t considered there was any opera to be had here. She asked Lidmila about what the theater was like, what was popular here, and Lidmila enthusiastically explained all the entertainment to be found here.

“We can attend any of it you like,” Lidmila assured her. “I wonder if it’s very different in Marvono?”

“We shall find out. Oh, Lidmila, before I forget and while I have you alone…”

Lidmila’s face turned up to her, very open and curious, almost fearfully so, as she pressed, “Yes? What is it?”

“I wonder if I might ask for a favor.”

“Of course you may.”

“I would like to see the letters that Namjoon allegedly sent to Çiğdem.”

“Oh.” Lidmila’s eyes widened. 

“I’m familiar with Namjoon’s hand from letters he’s written to the King which were shown to me. I’m curious if a simple comparison might tell us whether it’s a match or not,” Nasimiyu explained.

Lidmila pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, adorably suspicious, and asked, “Did Mindeulle put you up to this?”

“I act on my own accord,” Nasimiyu assured her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you! Only I know Mindeulle has doubts which you didn’t share about the truth of his character, seeing as what happened with...” She didn’t need to say it. Your maid.

“Yes well I’m trying to understand what exactly did happen with my maid, and what Lord Namjoon Kim’s character is, seeing as he proves difficult for the Prince to shake.” They came into view of the stage and a seated audience of almost entirely children, and standing behind all the children were Seokjin, Namjoon, and Mindeulle, all three equally enraptured by the puppet show. 

Lidmila only glanced at the puppets before admitting, “She may not wish to part with them. Çiğdem, I mean.”

“Will you try? For me?”

“Yes, I can at least try. Hopefully I can do better than try. I’ll see if I can get at least one,” Lidmila assured her.

“Thank you, it means a great deal to me to have your help.”

Lidmila positively glowed, her wispy brown curls framing her face so sweetly that it struck Nasimiyu what a blessing it was that Lidmila was so good-hearted. Such an innocent face would be hard to say no to. She could do wonders with it, if she were someone with a sharper mind or harder heart. But then she wouldn’t be gentle, bubbling Lidmila.

“It’s a story about King Donggun and Queen So-yeon,” Lidmila told her after a loud noise from the stage made them both glance over. “He loved her so much he made this whole festival for her.”

“So I hear. How tragic that she died.”

“I wonder what Prince Seokjin will do to show his love for you?”

“Whatever it is, I intend to be around much longer to enjoy it,” Nasimiyu said without thinking that it might sound crass. 

Before she could correct herself, Lidmila agreed, “You will be. And don’t worry, I’ll make suggestions if it seems like the Prince needs some… proper good ideas.” Nasimiyu smiled at her appreciatively, she did seem quite adept at managing things. Her confidence that Nasimiyu would live a long time was also sweet, though arguably unfounded based on how long women seemed to last in the royal family –Zselyke notwithstanding. Which was, perhaps, curious and suspicious. She wondered what Dulce would think of that question–

If only she could ask Dulce, who could no doubt make sure she lived a long, safe life here, if she cared to. She trusted no one more with her safety. It was unfortunate Dulce could no longer be trusted with her confidence, or her intimacy, or… was it her heart? No, that would be pathetic.

She glanced back at her maid who was not Dulce, and her guards who were also not Dulce. A backdrop of sunflowers loomed behind them. Really, Dulce ought to have come to this, even if they were mad at each other right now. As beautiful as Mindeulle and Lidmila both looked around the blossoms, as beautiful as Nasimiyu looked with them in her hair, she was aware these were the flower for Dulce. Something about them… 

“Nasimiyu,” Seokjin greeted, suddenly by her arm. “I found you a seat. Come watch the show.”

“The puppet show?”

“It’s got romance and tragedy, and the puppet for my father looks shockingly accurate. Come on,” he insisted, practically dragging her along.

Nasimiyu decided she was probably going to develop a headache soon. Maybe. She kind of liked it here too, although maybe not watching a puppet show for children. Well, she supposed it was a good look though for her and Seokjin to watch an unobjectionable performance together. She perched on the bench he had claimed for her with Mindeulle and Lidmila on either side, and tried to look queenly with her chin high and shoulders, Seokjin stood behind her, hand pressed to her shoulder. Eventually he dropped his hand and she was glad.

“Do you like puppets?” Mindeulle leaned in and whispered.

“No,” Nasimiyu whispered back, and both girls giggled as if she, like the puppets on stage, was doing something remarkably romantic by being here. Instead she let her mind wander. How long were she and Dulce going to be angry with each other? Would Dulce have liked the candied fruit? Would she have slid the grape off with her teeth like Mindeulle had? 

Namjoon’s chuckle reminded Nasimiyu he was there and she felt her heart harden again. It was good Dulce wasn’t enjoying the festival. Hopefully she was enjoying doing the laundry instead.

What few footsteps remained seemed to echo around the palace, a combination of clipped, angry steps by those annoyed not to be off at the Sunflower Festival and slow, heavy slides of those who did not feel intrinsically compelled to get their tasks done quickly.

Dulce tried to make no sound at all as she moved through the near-empty halls, a load of laundry perched in her arms and an oversized canvas bag looped over her shoulder with feathers and lightweight wooden rods poking out, and secretly a lantern. To any casual observer, it would hopefully look like a bag full of hat-making things –not that Dulce knew the first thing about making hats, but the bulky decorations were the best disguise she could envision for what would soon hopefully be several stolen paintings. She didn’t plan on being seen afterwards, but you still had to think through these things.

Already she’d had to reroute twice and was just about to make up her mind that she should take the long way out back and down the mountain to the external entrance hidden behind the ivy after all. It would waste time though, was the problem. She had a lot to do in a short amount of time. King Donggun had left the palace, which she understood to happen only for hunts, but his reason for leaving was to attend the Sunflower Fest in honor of his late wife whose birthday was tomorrow. She might not understand their relationship but she fully expected him to visit the Queen’s rooms in the near future, possibly even today, and she needed to be long finished by then. 

The only obstacle was fucking Hoseok, that damn nosy tutor to the prince! Despite his loud enthusiasm about the festival for the past week, he sure seemed unbothered to be one of those left behind to tend to matters around the palace. He strode along as if it were any other day, delivering letters and notes around the palace, checking that the throne room was clean, and even apparently doing a headcount of the guards! The palace had both a castellan and butlers supposed to be doing those things, but no one seemed surprised to see Hoseok doing it instead. They just scurried to dust the corner he’d looked twice at or rushed to reassure that the new table linens were on the way and would be pressed and laid out before dinner. Perhaps he was the sort of work-dedicated person who cherished a well-run palace even more than a festival.

His diligence was going to cause a problem for Dulce though because she was not the sort of work-dedicated person one would expect to see passionately going about her tasks without Nasimiyu around. Everyone knew Nasimiyu was pissed at her. They’d all probably heard Mirta shrieking at her about the laundry she hadn’t done when she’d gone to sit on the seawall and enjoy the sunset instead. With the Prince.

The problem about Hoseok wasn’t only that he was busybodying around the palace, but also that repeatedly seeing her would embed her in his memory. When someone eventually discovered the Queen’s rooms were ransacked, Hoseok would run through the list of people he knew were in the palace and Dulce would top that list if he saw her so many times. 

It led her to doing suspicious things like darting out of the hallway every time she heard footsteps in case they were his –and she hated doing suspicious things. 

One more try she decided, and balanced her linens and the canvas bag and set off for the Queen’s wing with a determined step. Her whole body was on alert listening for anyone who might see even just a glimpse of her, listening for the obnoxious click of Hoseok’s books on the tile floor, hell even the skitter skitter of an escaped pet of the Prince’s.

But nothing came, and the guards in the wing were ambling down the hall and around the corner at just the right time so without even a heartbeat of hesitation Dulce opened the door and slid quickly inside. 

For a moment she stood there with her back to it, waiting as she had last time to make sure no one had noticed after all. She was met with only silence. This time too she made a brisk survey of all the rooms, checking the wardrobe to make sure no one followed Taehyung’s tricks. How mortifying to have been caught that way. She was no smarter than the man who’d been killed in the inn and suddenly realizing the hypocrisy of her judgment at his lapse made her feel even stupider.

Well she wasn’t here to self-reflect, even though something about the preserved rooms made it feel like the time to do so. Now that she was sure she was alone, she set the linens and bag near the door hidden in the back of the closet and walked more thoughtfully through the rooms. Her plan was set –trash the rooms, take the painting and a few other things, make it look like a burglary– and yet when it came time to execute, she felt an unfamiliar hesitation.

Maybe it had to do with Seokjin’s mother staring down at her from the wall. She stared back up at her and noticed once again how much Seokjin looked like her. He had her cheeks, which was not something she’d ever considered a son inheriting from his mother before. He had her eyes too and her nose, her faceshape… did he actually have anything at all from King Donggun? Her hair was lighter, there was that. Maybe his eyebrows were more like his father… She tilted her head–

No, this wasn’t what she was here for. She needed to get the job done and go. 

She reached for the painting and hesitated again.

Seokjin was going to be sad about her wrecking his mother’s room. There was no way around that. She hadn’t let herself think about that part of her agreement with Taehyung. King Donggun was treating Taehyung unfairly by not letting him have even a copy of the painting, but Seokjin hadn’t done anything to deserve the destruction of this shrine to his mother. 

Would Taehyung tell Seokjin? Why hadn’t Taehyung gone to Seokjin with this request since they were so close? Why hadn’t Seokjin helped him? She regretted now not having asked Taehyung before why Seokjin wasn’t in on this. Plausible deniability with the king? She liked having the full picture but it was too late to ask for more now. 

She wouldn’t destroy anything though, and anything she took could make its way back someday, either once Taehyung got a copy of his painting made or enough time passed that the one missing painting wouldn’t be suspicious. 

Carefully she lifted the painting with Taehyung’s mother down, and two others beside it from the wall in the bedroom and carried them to the closet to wrap in linens and tuck into the canvas bag after setting the lantern to the side. They were so much bigger up close and just barely fit into the bag, she wouldn’t be able to take as many as she had planned. She took several off the walls in the painting parlor and set them down so it would look like she’d been planning to take them too and been interrupted. 

Then she braced herself and pushed over the easels. The paints had long ago solidified but scattered across the floor with the brushes, one of the easels collapsed on itself while the others rested awkwardly, legs in the air. It looked silly. It wasn’t truly careless or destructive the way a thief would be as she cleaned out the place. 

She tried to do better in the bedroom. She pulled the blankets off the bed as if she’d been digging for jewels and pulled the drawers out of the nightstands. It wouldn’t make sense for someone to steal paintings but not the jewels, so she swiped several pairs of earrings, a necklace, a bracelet and a tiara, avoiding the reflection of herself in the mirror. Her insides twisted as she slid the things into her bag. She had no way of knowing if any of these were sentimental, if Seokjin would be gutted for them to go missing. He liked pets and flowers and books, he seemed sentimental enough to be attached to specific jewelry. 

Did she have to take everything of value? She paused and looked at the vanity and closet, stuffed with riches. A proper thief would take as much as they could carry, pearls and rubies streaming from their pockets and shoes and hat. A proper thief would certainly take the most valuable things, and jewelry was a better prize than paintings, more valuable, easier to fence. If she was truly trying to stage a burglary, she should do the same, drag away as much as she could, prioritize the small and easy to smuggle things. But she thought of Seokjin entering the room, looking around with horror at what had been done to his mother’s rooms, and felt like someone was physically holding her back.

The painting of the family, of Seokjin and the late prince Seok-ho as boys, caught her eye through the mirror’s reflection. She turned and looked, wondering if the family had been happy. It was a complicated question to answer. Happy? Or at least happier when they weren’t half of a whole? She didn’t know how much Seokjin came in here. Did he come in here and look at the painting and pretend? 

She tugged the locket out from where it nestled deep in her bodice. The intricate floral pattern embossed on the front was nearly worn smooth by years brushed under her thumb. She opened it and tried to remember the portraits that had once hidden in the hollows. She would never have considered herself a sentimental person. She wasn’t. If she needed to shed the locket –and on several occasions she nearly had– she would. But looking up at the painting of young Prince Seokjin, she knew she had to leave that particular painting, even though part of her wanted it. For why? It wasn’t like she could put it anywhere. She already wasn’t sure where Taehyung was going to keep the big painting of his mother. It was over half her height, he couldn’t stow it in the bunkhouse where the yard boys slept!

Taking too long, she scolded herself and promptly swiped everything from the vanity onto the floor. Not every thief would destroy the room as she went but she wanted it to look like someone careless or thoughtless or even possibly hateful of the royal family. These things would divert suspicion from both her and Taehyung. She was none of those things, a truth that clinched in her belly as she flinched when the late queen’s combs and cheek powder and lip stain hit the floor. The ornate flowers popped off a particularly beautiful comb that Dulce regretted not taking for her own personal stash, if she was someone who could be so selfish and collect stolen things. The queen was wearing it in one of the paintings. It was beautiful and now it was broken and shame made Dulce sweaty.

Had she done enough damage to move on? She slipped into the queen’s closet and found herself stunned once again. The volume of clothing and jewelry here was overwhelming, even beyond Nasimiyu’s closet in Marvono. By comparison, Nasimiyu was practically impoverished with how few gowns she had here, fewer than two dozen until her new ones were made. Dulce had three sets of clothing to her name, not including the shift she slept in.

She took a couple pieces of jewelry –two rings and a bracelet– and slid them into her pocket, then simply tugged clothing from the hangers, again to look like she had meant to take things, or pilfered through for secret valuables. Even though she was leaving many valuables just sitting right in the open. Hopefully no one would find these things too odd but even if they did, at the very least it wouldn’t point to her. 

Dulce surveyed her work. It didn’t seem like enough but she couldn’t bring herself to do more. There wasn’t anything personal for her in destroying this sanctuary, though she suspected Taehyung might have done significant damage. Or maybe not, since the Queen had been kind to him. But now these were the King’s rooms, not hers. 

Hoisting the canvas bag was significantly more cumbersome now. Dulce, on the small side, had to clumsily shuffle along with it in front of her, the straps digging into her wrists so it wouldn’t drag on the ground, the lantern wedged in at the top. Wrangling the secret door open and closed behind her was a feat, though a sense of relief came over her once it was closed and she was alone in the pitch black. There, it was done, she hadn’t done too much harm, and she was out.

Dulce was used to moving through the dark, but this dark was so total it made it hard to breathe. She should have lit the lamp before closing the door but her gut had said to hurry, that she was going to be late or caught. She dug the flint and steel from her pocket and made sure her back was to the paintings before she struck it. It took a few minutes of feeling around before she could send a spark in the right direction, and the whole time drawing steady, measured breaths to keep her mind from drifting away from her in this total void. She hadn’t known it was possible to drown in darkness. 

The wick lit and her shoulders released. 

As tempting as it was to leave the things right by the ivy door, she had to expect that the first thing the King would do was charge down the secret passageway to see if the thief had entered that way. Instead Taehyung had drawn her a map to get to a particular hidden spot in the caves where he would retrieve the paintings and from there supposedly take them to a secret and trustworthy painter who would make his copies. That was beyond Dulce’s job.

The map was difficult to follow in the dark with the lantern and the canvas bag and Taehyung’s unskilled linework. Several times she took wrong turns, felt it in her gut, and had to backtrack to make sure. The caves were a maze, and the first time she accidentally stepped into one of the massive caverns gave her a scare like nothing ever did before. It felt like a death sentence to be down here alone. Trapped. By and large helpless. Weighed down with stolen goods. The dark creeping close behind.

She paused to let her body acclimate to the rush of fear and gazed up at the fake starry sky for what comfort it could give. It was beautiful, like nothing she had ever seen, somehow so like and yet so alien to the actual night sky. Personally she thought Paloma’s broad open blanket of night was even more beautiful but maybe that was because it reminded her of freedom and eternity all the time she had slept beneath it and this here was oppression. To never be able to leave this, to always amble through the dark for generations, to not even know you were missing the sun…

Hell might look like this. Dulce followed none of the minor religions that had taken root in Yeonhalbi and yet she thought hell might look just like this.

At last she felt certain she’d found the spot. Instead of wondering how much time Taehyung had spent here to notice and even map this spot, she quickly unburdened herself of the paintings, after fishing the jewels out of the bottom of the bag and shoving them into her pockets. The tiara wouldn’t fit and she held it awkwardly in her hands, not sure what to do about it. 

Noise behind her made her dive for shelter behind the stones hiding the paintings, tiara clutched to her chest, preventing her from dragging out the blade instinct told her too. Likely just an animal, but still she waited, crouched, breath steady and quiet.

Footsteps padded closer, paused, then shuffled closer again, then another pause. She glimpsed a blue directional light bouncing off the wall against the yellow glow of her lantern and realized it was a person. Shit. She had hoped not to cross paths with any of the gamekeepers down here; she didn’t know how many there were or what habits they kept, but Taehyung said there were only a few and not to worry about it. 

Well she was worrying about it now as she listened to the crunch of slow, careful footsteps. Obviously footsteps now. Inspecting the light she had foolishly relied on. She’d been caught, shit! 

She fished the dagger out from her thigh, annoyed still that she’d lost the one Nasimiyu gave her, usually easier to grab from her boot. Then she crouched, waiting, ready to pounce if the person did indeed discover her.

The figure stopped. She could only make out the rounded shadow moving closer to her abandoned lantern. Nothing else was left out there, she was sure of it –but then why did the figure pause so long beside the lantern and crouch down? Damnit, she should have extinguished and hidden the lantern as soon as she had light to see by. These were the sort of mistakes that got you killed.

“It’s dangerous being in the caves alone,” the man said, a weak and aged voice that evaporated in the heavy atmosphere as soon as the words were spoken. “To get out from here, put your right hand on the wall and take every turn you meet, never take your hand off. May the gods have mercy on your soul.”

With that he ambled away, his blue light rocking with his steps. Dulce remained tucked away until she was sure he was gone and only then slid out from the cramped space. Gingerly she picked up the lantern and looked around for any sign of who it was or any evidence of what he might have been looking at. Was it just the lantern? There was nothing else she could see. He was gone, her lamp left where she’d set it.

May the gods have mercy on your soul. Was it a threat? A warning? Sympathy? Did he know who she was or what she’d done, or was this how he handled anyone who wandered into the caves? It had sounded like Master Boutros, the game master she had met in these caves on the hunt so many weeks ago, but she couldn’t say for sure. Maybe everyone sounded like that when you made them live in an underground cave. 

She took the tiara and tossed it as far into the cavern as she could. It disappeared quickly over the lip of the cliff she didn’t go anywhere near; she’d turned her back before that and let her right hand lead her out, just like he had said. She had no reason to believe it wasn’t a trap except her own gut at this point. She let some of the jewelry fall from her pockets on the way. Not to the ivy door though, to a different one she learned as she stepped through it, this one further down the mountain path than they had gone for the hunt. Just how turned around had she been in there?

Aware she had been gone a long time and that her thieving may already have been discovered, Dulce hurried back up the path to the palace, slowing when she neared the yard so she could make sure no one was in view before sliding through the gate. Her heavy pockets tugged with every step so she held them down and continued her steady gait through the yard, into the palace, through quiet halls until she reached Nasimiyu’s room. If anyone saw her at this point, she didn’t care; her scowl likely put them off. 

She only grabbed a parasol from Nasimiyu’s wardrobe so she’d have a reason to make her way to the Sunflower Festival and meet up with Nasimiyu, –or rather with Taehyung, who was supposed to make sure he was visible to all and easy to find. From Nasimiyu’s window she tossed several of the jewels into the bushes far below, then set off again. On the way she took a detour through the hallway that ran near Prince Seokjin’s room and let one of his mother’s rings fall from the window into his courtyard. A bracelet joined it from another window. It wouldn’t make any sense why a thief would drop the jewelry there, but obviously Seokjin wouldn’t have taken it. Confusing was ok. Better than making a mistake while trying too obviously to throw people off your scent.

There were only a few things still in her pockets now and for a moment she contemplated hiding them in Mirta’s bed. But no, Dulce wasn’t someone who sought petty revenge on her own account. Instead she took a walk through the Queen’s garden to reach the front of the palace, and along the way pressed a ring and a bracelet into the dirt beneath a sweet statue of a little dancing girl.

The empty pockets should have left her feeling light as she set off for the Sunflower Fest, but she still felt weighed down. She’d tried to not take anything too sentimental looking but what did she know? No way was that tiara ever getting found. Once the things in Seokjin’s courtyard were found they’d probably scour the palace and find some of it but maybe not the things in the cave, which Master Boutros would probably find and thrift. Who would think to look under the statue in the garden?  

Shit, what was wrong with her though? As if the royal family actually needed so many jewels, or specific jewels. How fortunate was it to own things at all? She’d barely made a dent in the queen’s rooms. There was so much there, if she hadn’t made a mess they might not have even noticed anything but the paintings were gone. If all of this was in service of Taehyung getting the painting of his mother, then so be it. The King and Prince could cry into their remaining riches.

The strong scent of wilting sunflowers had snuck up on her, the noise of the festive town kept back by her thoughts until she reached the main road and its bright yellow glow. She paused to stare up at an arch made completely of flowers reaching far over her head. Probably it had been beautiful hours ago but now the leaves were curling, the petals starting to tumble from the heavy, sagging stalks. 

People crowded the main roads so densely it was difficult to move through, their feet trampling any flower that broke free from where they’d been tied to every surface, strung up rootless for the spectacle. So many of them it almost hurt to look at, second only in awe to actually walking through a field of living, growing sunflowers. Actually, pushing her way through people was not that different than stalks, trying not to trip on the children who darted past like energetic rabbits, avoiding the bumps and tugs of folks nudging past on their way to food or music or spectacles. A man juggled flaming torches, one of which landed too far and crushed a statue of flowers, impossible to tell what it had been, while the crowd shouted and laughed. Musicians tried to get a group to dance but there wasn’t space. A baby in her mother’s arms reached out a hand and poked delicately at the center of a flower, enraptured until a man jumped around it and shouted to scare the child, who promptly burst into tears while her mother scolded the man. 

But Dulce couldn’t appreciate these little moments because it was too busy, too crowded, and she had somewhere to be. She wound her way through the maze of townsfolk, following the main roads as she suspected Nasimiyu would. She kept her eyes peeled for Nasimiyu’s tall dark head, or the uniformed guards, or a wave of people who might be circling around the King. Would Naimiyu and Prince Seokjin stay near his father or wander off on their own? Taehyung had promised to be near Nasimiyu and Nasimiyu would be…

Dulce had no idea. She’d never been to this sort of thing with Nasimiyu. She didn’t know what Nasimiyu would be drawn to. Nothing, was her guess.

So where would the Prince go? Food. But food was everywhere. Maybe music, which he seemed to like even though he claimed not to like dancing. But music was everywhere too. It seemed to usher forth from the flowers themselves, there was so much of it. Everything was so loud and bright and everyone was so happy and Dulce wondered if she had always been different or if life had made her different, to feel so incapable of joining this outpouring of community.

She moved away from the nearest knot of musicians. She wished she could find that cafe the Prince had shown her and hide in there but they were in the wrong part of town. Her stomach rumbled at the scent of delicious food but there wasn’t time. She needed to tell Taehyung the job was done so she could wash her hands of this and forget she’d been involved at all. Maybe she’d bum some coins off him and get something to eat.

A curtain of sunflowers swung across the walkway and somehow not been torn down yet. She walked through to see the fountain too overflowed with them, and children crowded around poking at them –except for a young woman who sat on the edge, and a man knelt before her, asking a question that made her shriek and throw her arms around him, and someone nearby grabbed a flower and ripped the petals off and made them rain down on the couples’ heads as they kissed.

Dulce couldn’t decide if the Festival was tragic or beautiful. Part of her envied the folks who could afford to bring whatever they wanted in the world right to their doorstep, and part of her despised the ruin of something when the flowers could have been left where they were instead of brought here to die, and part of her didn’t care at all. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered –flowers or jewels or tiaras or nice dresses. All these people who would enjoy the fair today and then back to lives of lonely drudgery tomorrow. The food they would eat and shit out, the beer they’d vomit up, whatever cheap goods they were scammed into buying. At best the children would remember the day as magical and then someday find themselves chasing an impossible joy before confronting the reality that it was only the glow of childhood that had made reality seem so lovely.

She didn’t regret that this was not something she could connect with, that’s just how it was. 

On a whim she reached for the chain of her locket. The locket was the stupidest, most sentimental thing about her. She’d nearly tossed it many times to prove a point, only to keep it after all. It was a weakness, finding comfort in rubbing her thumb over the embossed face, she knew that. She would never risk her life over a piece of jewelry, and yet she still had it–

Had. 

It was gone.

“Nothing matters,” she quickly, defensively reminded herself. A woman’s scream interrupted her, timed in such a way she thought it was in her head. Still, she instinctively spun as people suddenly bolted, and in the cleared space not two yards away, she watched a man leave his knife in Seokjin’s chest.

It hadn’t occurred to Seokjin until just now what a terrible meeting place the fountain was. It was right there, right in the middle of everything, and everyone was watching him, every step he took. He’d noticed it the second they walked through the sunflower arch, him with his bride-to-be on his arm. He knew the people would be curious about their future queen, but he hadn’t expected them to stare at him so much. He was just the same ol’! Did they think he was undergoing a transformation now that he had a fiance and was only weeks away from being a husband?

August now. November 1st they would marry and the woman loosely holding his arm would become his wife for the rest of his life.

Seokjin turned his attention to thinking about what food he might like to eat today. The smells flooded his senses, leading him by the nose along the street. He wanted to see all his options and choose carefully; he also wanted to buy everything that appealed to him and eat until he had to be rolled home, like he hadn’t since he was a child. 

It would not endear him to Nasimiyu, that was for sure. He didn’t think she’d eaten a single thing since they arrived, certainly none of the things he had offered. It almost left him glad that Namjoon was hungry and eager to trawl the food vendors, just so he wouldn’t do it alone. Not that he minded being alone, but sometimes it was fun to do something not alone, even if just to discuss whether that peppered fruit had been spicy or if the chicken skewers were too chewy or if the takoyaki had too strong a flavor. Not that he really cared whether Namjoon enjoyed the food or not but it was something. Dulce would have understood and appreciated the food, he was sure of it. He didn’t think she would agree with him on everything but it would have been fun to learn. He wished he knew her well enough to predict.

Was he just going to think things like that now and pretend like it was normal? Maybe. He didn’t feel in the mood to be scolded right now.

“Do you want to wander that way?” Nasimiyu asked. She didn’t want to sit still for any of the shows or eat any of the food and yet she seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself and he couldn’t figure out why. He couldn’t decide whether to take it at face value or accept it was faked and play along.

But Seokjin couldn’t wander that way because he needed to meet with “K.” She hadn’t given him a time, only told him to meet her by the clock tower, which loomed down over him now from the nearest corner of the square. He also didn’t know what “K” looked like, only that she was someone who had known his brother closely –close enough to know that Seok-ho had broken a vase when they were children for which Seokjin had been blamed. Not just any vase, but one their father’s mother had made with her own hands. The men in their family were nothing if not sentimental. Seok-ho had let him take the blame, and though he didn’t make a habit of that sort of thing it had always lingered with Seokjin, that early lesson that his blessed, beloved brother could be selfish too.  

He glanced around, expecting someone to approach, but probably K realized the difficulty as well, that it would be impossible to get him alone for any sort of private conversation. 

Nasimiyu still eyed him expectantly and he felt he had no choice to nod and follow. Lidmila and Mindeulle wound around them and though he reached for Nasimiyu’s hand, she didn’t seem to notice and strode ahead, confident he would follow. It was nice to see her forming such good friendships with the other women, even if it felt strange to see her so close with Mindeulle. He wouldn’t have expected that. But hey, great! Wonderful. Probably Nasimiyu would want Mindeulle to stay and Namjoon would use it as an excuse to stay and Seokjin would never be rid of him. 

He watched her duck under a curtain of sunflowers to follow Nasimiyu and was struck by the realization that any special fondness he’d ever held for Mindeulle had settled so peacefully into brotherly affection that it was hard to recall if any actually had existed or if his father had only put that thought there. He wouldn’t have even called it a crush, but whatever it was, it was snuffed out entirely; at most maybe it had been a distant affection of childhood. Had Nasimiyu entering his life really taken over his senses so profoundly?

Music suddenly struck up behind him, making him startle and spin. Marks and Jungkook were close on either side and remained stoic but Jimin grinned and Seokjin pretended not to know why. There was something familiar about the band though, and it took him a moment and a few steps forward to recognize them. It was the band that had played for the wedding he and Dulce wandered through that day in the city, when he’d almost asked her to dance, he was sure of it. It amused him to think about what she would have done if he had. Her agreement at the ball had surprised him, so maybe she would have surprised him that day too, but he thought it more likely she would have stared at him with those wide dark eyes –the same color as the center of a sunflower. Or maybe it was more like her hair, with that hint of reddish glow. 

No wonder it felt like she was everywhere today despite being nowhere. If she’d come to the festival at all, he sure hadn’t seen her. Nasimiyu had brought other attendants. He’d seen Yoongi drinking a beer earlier and Taehyung was lurking nearby, pretending not to be visible, but since Dulce wasn’t with either of them, he thought that meant she hadn’t come. Or she was avoiding him. Probably it was for the best either way.

“Why are you grinning like that?” Jimin asked, sidling up to him. “Is the scent of the flowers going to your head?” He reached up to fix Seokjin’s collar and the braided trim looping from his shoulders. Wouldn’t it be a lot more fun here if he hadn’t needed to dress up? But Hoseok and Jimin insisted, and Nasimiyu would have been disappointed if he’d stepped out with her for the first time in a vest with no jacket. Still, he was just waiting for someone to spill something on his white trousers.

“Hmm yes, it’s that,” Seokjin joked, wafting the air towards his nose only to playfully cough. “Yes, still smells like Priva under there.”

“Did you mean to let the Princess leave you behind?”

“Ah, no… oops,” Seokjin admitted.

Jimin circled him, as if checking that nothing else was amiss with his outfit or maybe enjoying the clear ring of space the bodyguards maintained for him.

“You seem distracted today. What’s got into your head?” Jimin pressed.

“What do you mean? It’s the Sunflower Festival! Which means there’s absolutely nothing going on up there,” Seokjin assured him. He couldn’t understand why Jimin eyed him so suspiciously, even leaned close to peer into his face.

“You didn’t sit up all night reading, did you?” Jimin guessed.

Seokjin laughed –guiltily, truth be told– and cried, “What do you scold me, is that your place? Where’s Hoseok or Master Jung, that’s their job, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know where he is so I’m taking it over today. Where do you want to go now? Chin up, shoulders back, look your best.”

“Don’t speak so familiarly to me in public,” Seokjin teased. “People will think I’m a lenient prince. Where’s my fiance? Take me to her now!”

To Seokjin’s confusion, Jimin paused for a moment and looked at him in a way that felt pointed, or curious, or suspicious. Something that wasn’t the normal way Jimin would look at him and it made Seokjin self conscious. He wiped at his face in case there was something there but felt nothing.

“Is that what you’re worried about? I don’t know, you don’t tell me what you’re thinking these days, so how can I serve you? All right, I will take you to your princess,” Jimin said, suddenly animated again. He turned towards the curtain through which Nasimiyu had passed now some time ago and Seokjin took a step after him.

“Excuse me, do you want your fortune read?”

The voice reached him across the space and general noise of the festival, cut right through as if his ear marked it familiar, though it wasn’t. Seokjin turned to see the woman who had approached to address him, though no closer than Marks would allow. 

“Your fortune read, Your Royal Highness?” The woman looked vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite recall where he’d seen her before. Her long face was pretty, though her dress was simple, her dark blond hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She reached up to touch her face and then tugged at the neckline of her shirt, where a heavy ring hung on a string, her only adornment. A moment longer than he would have admitted it, he realized the ring was a signet ring –his brothers, most likely, and that this woman might be, must be “K.” 

“You’re a fortune teller?” he asked, wondering if that was true. He worried now he might be falling prey to a scam, or maybe this woman believed in whatever warning she read from the cards he didn’t believe in– but how had she got his brother’s ring?

“I have my tent only here,” she said and motioned behind her. It was almost a tent. Barely one. A couple heavy dark curtains were tied up, creating a small private space right beside a bustling side street.

Seokjin could feel the distrust rolling off Marks as the bodyguard nudged her back and tried to move Seokjin along, but he simply stepped around the bodyguard and agreed, “Yes, let’s see what my palm has to say.” 

“Wha–” Jimin began but Seokjin ignored him and reached for the tent. He could see Marks thought this was absurd but he had no right to tell Seokjin no, and only motioned for the woman to wait as he stepped into the tent first, clearly with intention to stay.

“I’ll get my fortune told alone,” Seokjin announced. “You can all wait outside.”

“But Your Highness–”

“But Ser–”

“Do you think she’s going to slip poison into my mouth from across the table?” Seokjin demanded, gesturing to her as she waited at the opening. 

“It’s not safe for you to be out of sight and alone,” Marks insisted.

Seokjin knew he was wasting time and decided, “Fine, Jungkook can come in with me. I guess I’ll be less embarrassed for him to hear if I’ve got a rotten fortune.” Anyone could have seen Jimin was hurt by this exclusion, so Seokjin pointed out, “It’s too small and Jungkook’s the bodyguard. I’ll tell you anything juicy over snacks tonight.” He didn’t wait for an answer but slid through the opening of the sheets after Marks had stepped out and Jungkook in. The woman came in last and tugged the curtain closed, then sat on one of two stools in the cramped space. There was a small table, but no cards or anything, only a single candle that put off an outrageous amount of heat as it burned low.

By it Seokjin saw her glancing warily at Jungkook, so he started in a quiet voice, “Are you K? You may speak freely in front of him, he’s both a bodyguard and a trusted friend.”

“I… if you say so…”

Jungkook’s brow scrunched in confusion and he opened his mouth to ask something but Seokjin tapped his lips with his finger and Jungkook stayed his tongue.

“We won’t have much time without seeming suspicious,” Seokjin told her, sitting on the stool and leaning close. He was already beginning to sweat in the trapped heat. The drapes did an eerily good job of muting both light and sound from outside but for all he knew Marks and Jimin were listening close and while he trusted at least Jimin, it was clear the woman was nervous.

Suddenly it struck him where he’d seen her before and he asked, “How are your children?”

“Oh. You do remember me?”

“Yes, it was you with your sons. Is he all right, the one who was hurt?”

“Yes, he’s all right. They’re with my mother right now.”

“So you can work? You’re a… fortune teller?”

“I’m not actually. Is this really so convincing? It’s the only way I could think to get time to speak with you.”

Impressed, Seokjin studied her concerned expression and asked, “What is it you want to talk to me about? Is that why you came to court that day? And why do you have my brother’s ring? Who were you to my brother?”

“His wife,” she breathed out, the word so airy and impossible that Seokjin thought he must have misheard.

“Pardon?”

“I am the wife of Seok-ho,” she said again, a little clearer. 

“Um…”

“And those children you saw are his,” she added. 

“That’s not possible,” Seokjin said as he racked his mind to see if it could be.

“I wish I had time to tell you everything, to tell you our entire love story,” she said. “It distressed him not to tell you but of course, I was secret. It wasn’t you he didn’t trust but everyone else.”

“How could he have a secret wife and children?” Seokjin argued. “It’s not possible.”

“We met here in the city. He used to visit the tavern I worked in–”

“My brother didn’t visit taverns.”

“He did,” she insisted. “In secret. I didn’t know who he was, he was always dressed as a commoner –handsome though. So very handsome.” Seokjin couldn’t say anything. It was impossible. It didn’t sound like his brother at all. “We fell in love. He bought us a house outside the city we met at sometimes, other times we stole time together in secret here. We married and I had our children and then… then he went on a military campaign he never returned from.”

Seokjin didn’t hide the confusion from his face. How else should he look when meeting a woman who insisted that his brother the royal prince had led a secret double life?!

She tugged the string over her head and handed him the ring.

“He gave me this and told me that if anything ever happened to him, I could contact you if I felt in trouble. He was certain you would understand and help his wife and children.”

“Yes of course I would but…” Seokjin looked at her, looked for any hint in her face she was crazy or lying. But she looked sincere, and the ring was real, and her story, as outlandish as it was… well, there was a flicker of belief among the doubt. He had always suspected his brother had a secret affair but he’d been thinking penpal, not commoner wife in the country. “But what did he think was going to happen? What did you think? He was going to have to marry as king.” 

“I don’t know, to be honest. It’s not that I liked the secret life but a barmaid can’t become a queen and he was afraid for my safety if I was known. Your father never would have let him marry me. Sometimes he thought he would run away with me but he didn’t want to leave the crown to you.”

“Astonishing faith in me.”

“I meant– he said because you didn’t want it, and he wanted to protect you from the expectations and let you be free,” she corrected. “I didn’t explain it well. I don’t come from money or nobility or education or anything like that. But I loved your brother with everything I had, and he loved me back. I knew it every day, whether we were together or not. I would have lived my entire life his secret if I had to. We both knew something might have to change as the boys got older. My older one looks so much like him but he died before anyone could notice.”

Did he? Seokjin couldn’t remember at all, he hadn’t been paying attention except to the injured one. He certainly hadn’t been looking for traces of his brother. 

“Why did you come to court if you wanted to stay hidden?”

“Your father knows about me,” she said. “And the boys. I don’t know how, but Seok-ho was certain and after that day in court, I’m positive as well. I think he even recognized me before I spoke. His whole face changed when he saw me and then my elder son. It wasn’t until my younger wandered up to the throne that he… well.”

“He’s sentimental about the chair that belonged to my mother.”

“I understand but you see, the reason I risked it, I had sent him a letter and I wasn’t sure he received it, or if he dismissed it. I think my life and that of my children is in danger.”

Seokjin didn’t dance around the truth and admitted, “If anyone knows about you, that’s probably true.” He paused, then added, “Technically your sons are in line ahead of me for the throne.”

“I don’t want that for them. That’s not why I sent you or your father notes,” she insisted. “The complete opposite. I just want to go far away and raise them in safety.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Money,” she said. “That’s the simple truth. Seok-ho meant to leave us with everything we would ever need, but the account he set up for me was suddenly empty one day and the bank wouldn’t tell me why. I wanted to know if your father emptied it. I can only think of a few people who would have the authority.”

“Who besides my father? We can’t just demand a bank account be turned over to us,” Seokjin argued. “And besides I don’t know why my father would do that.”

“I sent him a letter… I told you that. I’m sorry, I’m so nervous,” she admitted and only now did he realize her hands were trembling on the table. He reached forward and covered one with his own. Did he believe her or not? He didn’t want to. He wanted to remain suspicious. And yet he found himself believing her more with each word she spoke. If he accepted that he hadn’t known his brother very well at all –which was honestly, very true– then maybe this all sounded exactly like something his brother could and would pull off. It was why he would have made a good king. He knew what he wanted and made it happen. He couldn’t be swayed or coerced. He could do the impossible.

“I understand but you’re the safest you’ve ever been right now,” he found himself reassuring her. “Nothing gets past Jungkook.” The space was so cramped, it was more true than ever; Jungkook was practically resting on his back, hanging on to every word is disbelief, no doubt.

“Good. That’s good, that’s very good because I think you’re in danger too– sorry, I should say first, I don’t think Seok-ho’s death was an accident.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t, he was the king’s son in a war.”

“No, I mean– I mean I think he wasn’t killed in the battle, I think he was killed because of what he saw,” she said. 

Seokjin was so heated by this point he thought he might faint but kept his hand on hers and asked, “What did he see?”

“I don’t know except that it had something to do with your uncle. He sent me a letter within a letter and asked me to make sure it was delivered to your father. The letter to me only said not to read it and that your uncle needed to be held accountable, that he had seen things he wasn’t meant to see, and that if anything happened to him, it would be even more important the letter reach your father.”

What was in the letter?! The need to know was going to drive Seokjin crazy but unlike Dulce, this woman seemed to not read other people’s letters. 

“You really don’t know what was in the letter?”

“I wish. I wish I did. I should have read it… I did what he asked and brought it to the palace and put it right into the hands of… I don’t know his name but he’s always by the king. Dark hair, big nose, always dressed very nicely–” 

“Could be anyone,” Seokjin muttered.

“Maybe Master Jung,” Jungkook murmured and Seokjin thought that could be true. 

“If so it would have reached my father, that’s as close as you could have got.”

“I should have insisted on handing it to your father myself but… but I was so afraid of him, and I didn’t know how to get to him anyway, and I was very tired with child… so many excuses now!”

“You did the best you could. You did what my brother asked,” Seokjin tried to comfort her. She pulled her hands away to brush her hair back, though it was all still in place. 

“I waited for another letter but none ever came. I had our second son. Hoya never saw him. I learned he’d died alongside everyone else in the city when it was announced.” She covered her face and drew a deep breath, shoulders shuddering.

“Everything all right in here?” Jimin asked, head suddenly poking through the flap.

“Ah, my fate is so tragic, it’s moving her to tears!” Seokjin called back. “Leave us be, it’s a rather good story.”

Jimin sighed and let the flap closed, but Seokjin heard him mutter to Marks, “It’s too hot in there, he’s going to faint and you’ll have to carry him home.”

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin said. “I… I wish I had something better to say.”

“Your uncle did something and Seokho wanted your father to know and he died for it. But what can I do about it? If I’m found out, he’ll kill me and our children too.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook thoughtlessly said and Seokjin tried to subtly elbow him. He needed to be less wrapped up in this tale and more alert to any danger.

She didn’t seem to have heard him anyway and continued, “Maybe your father wants us gone too, I don’t know. These are his grandchildren but– is it true, what you said? That they could have a claim on the throne?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t want that! But it makes it more dangerous for them, doesn’t it? If someone thinks that’s what we want?”

From me, Seokjin almost pointed out. He was the one whose claim was threatened by their existence and she had come right to him. And yet he would never have risked even a hair on one of their heads over the throne. His brother must have known that, too. Seokjin felt embarrassed with pride that his brother would put so much confidence in him. If only Seok-ho had ever seemed to think so highly of him while he lived, their relationship could have been so different…

“It does and you can’t help that,” Seokjin assured her. “I can give you all the money you need to disappear. That’s easy. I can give you enough for your journey and send notes ahead to wait for you and I won’t tell anyone in the world where you are –only I will know. If you need more help you can send me a letter.”

“That’s… thank you. It feels wrong to ask…”

“It’s not wrong,” Seokjin said. “We’re family. As for what my brother saw and my uncle… my father…” He sighed and gave a sharp shake of his head. “I don’t know what to do about that.”

“Do you believe me?”

“That my uncle is doing something nefarious and killed my brother to cover it up? I don’t doubt it at all. I wish I knew more. The best I can do is ask my father but I’ll have to figure out how to do it without making him suspicious I’ve met you… I’ll figure it out,” he assured her, sounding more confident than he felt.

If his brother had been murdered by his uncle, there was justice to demand. But Seokjin had never been very demanding, and didn’t know how to start now. How was he supposed to investigate, or convince his father there was anything to investigate? Did his father really know about Seok-ho’s secret wife? If so, was he protecting her or ignoring or, or did he not know after all? Sentimental about his grandchildren or ignorant? He’d adored Seok-ho, surely he wouldn’t let his murder go if he had suspicions. His father and uncle disagreed politically all the time, but his father didn’t replace him which said a lot. He didn’t think his father would be involved in the same business but… but what did he know? Nothing. Seokjin Kim knew nothing about anything. 

He handed the ring back to her and said, “Go to Paloma. Go to the biggest town in Paloma. Here, I’ll give you all the money I have –Jungkook, give me all your money.”

“What? Hyung,” Jungkook complained, forgetting himself and being familiar. 

“Oh, no, it’s–” the woman tried, but Seokjin insisted, “Money is one thing neither of us is short on. Take this. If you tell me where you’re staying, I’ll send Jungkook with more and then you should set out right away, as soon as you can hire transport.”

“Paloma?”

“The biggest town,” Seokjin said again, because he did not actually know which one that was.

“And you’ll find out what happened to Seok-ho?” she asked, naked hope in her eyes. “It feels wrong for his death to be swept away like that. He wanted to fix something and… and I don’t even know if my letter got to your father.” 

“I’m sure it did and he just didn’t know what to do about it or whether it was really my brother, but I’ll lend my doubts to Seok-ho’s and find out the truth,” Seokjin assured her. Realizing he hadn’t asked, he did so now, “What’s your name?”

“Kanna,” the woman answered.

“And my nephews?” The words sounded fake. He had nephews? He felt hungry for family in that moment, for more than just his depressed, eccentric father and cruel uncle and Taehyung who seemed to taunt death constantly so that Seokjin was afraid to love him too much.

“Masao and Yori.”

He repeated the names and wished there was a way to meet them. There wasn’t that he could see, not that wouldn’t endanger them and their mother. Seok-ho had loved this woman. His dead brother had trusted Seokjin to take care of them after he was gone, and that touched Seokjin deeply.

“Why did you wait so long to contact me?” Seokjin asked.

“I… I didn’t think you’d believe me. I didn’t want to risk our safety but it’s getting hard without the money, and I can’t sleep at night worrying that I failed Hoya. It’s just been weighing on my chest that he was murdered and I didn’t do anything.”

“There’s nothing else you can do,” Seokjin insisted. “Will you take on my uncle all by yourself? You’ve told me and now I’ll take care of it.”

“Maybe I’ve put you in danger by telling you, but maybe you’re already in danger. Your brother worried so much about you. He spoke about you all the time.”

“Flattering things, I’m sure,” Seokjin snorted.

“He said you were the most admirable and infuriating person he’d ever met,” she told him. “He said you were too good to be king, that only someone as selfish as him could handle it but that… that because he was selfish, he couldn’t give me up either… He spoke so unkindly of himself like that sometimes. He was so haunted by letting you take the blame for breaking that blue vase!” she laughed.

Seokjin found himself laughing too, “He told you about that.”

“He said if I told you about it, you would know I was telling you the truth because I’m the only one he ever admitted to that he broke the vase.”

Seokjin shook his head and sighed and blinked back the tears as he muttered, “Damn him.” His brother had loved him so much after all? Seokjin had known him so little after all. And now he was dead and they would never get to share their love stories or let their children run wild together at the Sunflower Fest or watch their wives… do whatever it was sisters-in-law did together, he didn’t actually know.

“Your Majesty,” Marks called from the flap and Seokjin understood he had lingered too long now. 

He took Kanna’s hand to squeeze as they both stood and insisted, “I’ll send you the money later tonight and the bank notes will be waiting in Paloma. Promise me you’ll go quickly.”

“I will. I feel much better having told you, having met you. I’m sorry we couldn’t know each other more.”

There was nothing to do but agree with that, and then let Jungkook lead him out of the tent where Marks stood alert. Jimin had grown bored and wandered over to join Taehyung and flirt with some pretty girls, but they both came over as soon as Seokjin was clear of the tent. He felt like he’d sweat out a tenth of his body weight.

“You look…” Jimin trailed off and looked around for something to fan him with.

“You were getting your fortune read?” Taehyung asked. “I want mine read.”

“Not here you don’t. It didn’t exactly seem… legitimate,” Seokjin said quickly, as if he didn’t want Kanna to hear. “Good for a laugh but I’m not sure she actually knows what she’s talking about. I’m supposed to get stomped by a horse before the next full moon, so mind you keep those beasts away from me. Ah, there’s Nasimiyu,” he said as she strode back through the sunflower curtain with a determined look on her face, clearly looking for him.

“And Namjoon,” Jimin added as he made a beeline for them at the same time.

“Well I know which of those two I’d rather talk to,” Seokjin laughed. “Taehyung, go.” He used the moment of everyone shifting around to lean close to Jungkook and whisper, “Stay here for a moment and make sure no one bothers her.”

“You got it,” Jungkook said and took a step back as Nasimiyu reached him.

“Where were you? I thought you were right behind us,” she accused.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted. I’ll follow you anywhere now,” he promised. He did not point out she had left him behind some time ago. Had she only noticed?

“There was a little dancing monkey,” Mindeulle gushed, all giggles with Lidmila. 

“Oh you saw the monkey?” Seokjin asked, before adding, “He’s here every year.”

“He was very polite,” Nasimiyu grinned. “Shook my hand.”

“You… like monkeys?”

“Yes, I like monkeys, if they’re clever or funny. Some of them are rather mischievous…”

Seokjin would never have expected this. It left him speechless, and unfortunately open to Namjoon successfully reaching them.

“Seokjin, your father is uh– I think he could use you right now,” Namjoon told him, leaning in but doing a poor job of lowering his voice.

Seokjin’s suspicion was immediate as he argued, “What could he possibly need me for? He doesn’t need me.”

“Just come on.” Namjoon beckoned. Seokjin knew exactly what his father would be up to today –running around like the most cheerful man on earth until he’d drunk enough for it to turn into longing for his dead wife, at which point he’d sink into despair and his guard would foist him away to the palace. No Seokjin needed. He felt no inclination to go now. He had a lot to think through. His was going to get indigestion.

But Nasimiyu followed Namjoon, which left Seokjin in the awkward position of having to follow as well. He did make one pitiful effort to distract her by pointing out a nearby shop with jewelry if she’d like him to buy her something nice instead of forging ahead to see whatever embarrassing thing his father might be doing. Not that Seokjin was embarrassed by his father in general, nor did he embarrass easily, but that was exactly it, that whatever his father was doing that Namjoon found so inappropriate Seokjin needed to rush to his side was in fact just the way his father was. 

“He was right here…” Namjoon said, stopping short and looking around. They’d stopped beside a tavern that had set up tables and several beer kegs on the sidewalk to let the celebration spill over. Namjoon craned his neck looking around while Seokjin counted his blessings and turned to Nasimiyu to suggest they wander like she’d said. He had a lot of trying of things bouncing around his mind and it would be better to just walk dumbly beside her for a while until he could reconcile the fact that he had a sister-in-law and two nephews who he would never see again. That his brother had hidden this from him, but also known he could count on Seokjin when needed, without explanation. 

“Oh there he is,” Nasimiyu said –or maybe it was actually Lidmila, but Seokjin wasn’t paying attention until Nasimiyu nudged his arm and Namjoon gestured for him to lead the way.

Confused, Seokjin pointed out, “He’s fine.” In fact his father the king seemed more than fine, one arm thrown out while he laughed around a deep mug of beer.

“He was on the verge of something just a minute ago,” Namjoon insisted. 

“On the verge of what?” Nasimiyu pressed and Seokjin found himself fond with gratefulness that she was taking his side. Not that there were sides between him and Namjoon in this but kind of there were.

“He was waving his sword around and beer in the other, shouting about love and death,” Namjoon said. Seokjin was not sure he believed him. His father’s sword was safely tucked away in its scabbard, not even a hand on the pommel, and he seemed perfectly in control of his emotions.

Until he saw Seokjin and let out a shockingly cheerful shout, “Ah, my boy!” Maybe that was a little suspicious, for his father to be so openly cheered by the sight of him. “Let me tell you, my son could never hold his alcohol, but this boy can!” the king added to the folks nearest him around the kegs. Seokjin suppressed a sigh. Was he proud or backhanded? He shouldn’t be calling Seokjin this boy to the people he would rule someday.

“Let’s escort him home?” Nasimiyu suggested. “We can come back.”

Seokjin gave her a look. As if he could escort his father anywhere. What an absurd idea. King Donggun would go where he wanted, when he wanted.

“Seokjin, Namjoon, come drink with me,” he shouted. “Nasimiyu, will you drink? I will gather the ducklings just like your mother would have wanted. Mindeulle, who are you here with, my son and other ladies? Time you met someone…”

Mindeulle inhaled sharply enough that Seokjin did step forward, interrupting, “Father, what, you want a drink with me? I’ll drink you under the table, old man. Your men there will have to carry you home.”

“You brat, I’ve been drinking beer since before you were a tickle in my balls.” 

“You should have stopped before you tickled, old man, I’ll unseat you,” Seokjin countered, and tried first to take the beer out of his father’s hand before simply accepting the one someone else handed him. He was trying to end this, not join the drink. 

“What other ducklings have we got around here? Everyone’s mothers are dead, isn’t that a joke of the heavens? Why is that? It’s not right. Our worlds revolve around them even after death, but they would forget us. Little Lidmila, I see you hiding there, your mother is still alive,” he called. “And can drink with the best of them!”

Lidmila looked like she wanted to slip beneath a table and evaporate. She practically dove behind Nasimiyu.

“Stableboy, I see you. Have a drink on me!” the king called and Seokjin didn’t know if it was paternal, or taunting, or if he was so drunk he’d forgotten about his own progeny.

“Why do you want to drink with the children?” Seokjin asked. “Where are your own friends, father?”

“Damn them to hell, I don’t know. Sleeping late I should think, or hiding from me. What’s wrong with them on a day like this, eh? It’s beautiful, beautiful, your mother will love it,” he said. 

Will.

“Yes, the flowers are beautiful,” Seokjin said and his father’s head lolled to the side and he grinned and sighed.

“They are. They are beautiful today. They’ll be gone by tomorrow. Their beauty never lasts.” He trailed off as he said it and for a moment Seokjin feared he was slipping into one of his stupors, which would make him nearly impossible to move home. Then he realized his father had forgotten himself and stared at Taehyung. Likely it wasn’t only the queen his father mourned today, but Seokjin wasn’t worried his father would let something like that slip. After all these years, King Donggun hadn’t drunkenly tattled on his own affair.

“They’d go running around together here, those girls,” King Donggun sighed. “Both of ‘em pretending to be commoners for the day. Sukdheep thought it was horrifying but she’d humor her, humor her anything. Are you as full of humor as your mother, Little Lidmila?”

“...Yes, sir?” Lidmila guessed, clearly not sure what to say.

“Where’s your mother today?” the king asked. “I was never as close to her… but I look around and everyone is gone but the two of us. Just me and the ducklings left. I’m the last one who should be left with all the baby birds. Two clumsy hands, I’ve got!” He waved the mug of beer and some sloshed over his hand and splashed onto Seokjin’s shoes and across the trousers of one of the king’s guards, who stepped back in surprise. “What’s wrong, afraid of a little beer, you coward?” King Donggun laughed and flung the rest of the beer directly onto the guard.

“Father, that’s rude even for you,” Seokjin scolded, trying not to sound shocked in case it just egged him on further. The guard stepped back, stoic but whole body stiff with obvious anger. Seokjin didn’t even know the man’s name, he must be on the newer side and maybe hadn’t understand what he was signing up for.

“Who do you think you are?” Donggun demanded, then suddenly softened as he looked at Seokjin and admitted, “You look so much like her, it makes me love and hate you.”

“Is that so?” Seokjin said. He’d meant to say something funny but his mind had betrayed him. He didn’t want to be near his father anymore, not today. His father was just drunk and vacillating between bitter and nostalgic. Seokjin and Nasimiyu didn’t need to be here to witness it. His father had taken care of himself for this long and didn’t need an loved-but-hated son tidying him up. Namjoon knew that by now, Seokjin didn’t see why he’d been fetched, unless Namjoon felt like Seokjin should be up for some emotional torment –not that this was much of anything. It barely registered. Hadn’t his father just said he loved him? That was nice.

“Her eyes were always laughing too but she was kinder about it,” Donggun said just as Seokjin began to turn, to lead Nasimiyu off to something more fun than this. The complaint made Seokjin hesitate –his father could be painfully, cleverly cruel when drunk, but his voice sounded almost hurt. 

“Wha? I’m unkind? What can–” you possibly mean by that Seokjin had begun to say, turning back after all to demand his answer, just as a man slid into the space left by the guard who’d turned to dab the beer off his suit. Just as this man raised the knife. 

It wasn’t that he thought about whether to act or not. Honestly, it was stupid of him, wasn’t it? How embarrassing, that despite nearly twenty-five years of training, Seokjin’s instinct was not to disarm or even attack the man. He did in fact grab the man’s wrist as he dove between his father and the assailant, but failed to shove the weapon safely away. Instead he noticed how surprised the man looked as the blade sank into Seokjin’s chest, sliding in his left side with little resistance until the blade scraped against bone. Seokjin didn’t know a blade could skewer a body that gently. He had never dreamed how obvious the scrape of blade against his bone would be.

Things happened very quickly but they felt slow to Seokjin. Someone screamed. Multiple people screamed. Someone knocked the assailant away and Seokjin looked down at the knife protruding from his body when there wasn’t supposed to be something sticking out of him like that. Someone grabbed his shoulders and spun him around and his father shouted at him,

“Are you stupid?!”

“I think so,” Seokjin mumbled as more people grabbed his arms, he wasn’t even sure who, but it felt like he was falling. Nasimiyu looked worried, that was nice. Where had Dulce come from? Had she always been here? He was falling –no, he was being eased back onto something. Someone reached for the blade, or their hand was close, and he shouted because everything in his body told him that something wasn’t supposed to be there and it burned but it would be worse if it wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t want anyone touching it. He didn’t want anyone touching him either but Jungkook’s face was over his and he could hear Jimin’s voice shouting for people to get back. At least he thought that’s what the urgency meant.

Seokjin shouted as it felt like he was thrown into the air but he was only lifted. The board was hard beneath him and didn’t let his body curl in around the pain the way he wanted to. Without meaning to he reached for the blade, maybe it needed to come out after all, but a hand grabbed his arm and pressed it down to his side.

“Don’t let him take it out.” He recognized Dulce’s voice, or maybe she’d said that before, everything was all out of order right now. It was Nasimiyu’s hand holding his arm down. Jimin held the other arm down. He didn’t like being held down like that and complained but no one seemed to care, or maybe he wasn’t quite saying words. It didn’t hurt the way he’d expected it to but it was impossible to breathe or move. Maybe that had more to do without everyone moving so quickly around him than the injury. It was just a small knife. Wasn’t it not a big deal? It went in so easily, it could come out so easily too.

“Hey, hey,” he called to any of them that would listen. It didn’t feel right to be lying on his back on a plank as Jungkook and Marks carried him. “Don’t you know I have an image to uphold? I’m not dead, let me walk!” Everyone was being way too serious and it scared him. Was it worse than he thought? 

“Stay still,” Jimin scolded.

“At least carry me on your shoulders like a king, let me sit up.”

“Just be quiet right now, hyung,” Jungkook said. “You’ll be ok. You’ll be fine. Just let us get you all to safety. You won’t die.”

“Yah, why don’t you sound sure?” Seokjin laughed, then winced. He didn’t want the people around him to panic but damn. Something was wrong. It was suddenly so cold, and wasn’t that someone thought right before they died? What if the blade had gone right into his heart and he was bleeding out…

“Ok fine run faster, I’m tired from doing heroics,” he said, wincing as the board jostled.

“What?” Nasimiyu asked, then, “What did he say? He’s so quiet…” He appreciated that she sounded worried. She did, didn’t she? That was good, for his future wife to be worried about him when he got stabbed in the chest. But where was she? She wasn’t holding his arm anymore, Taehyung was, and Nasimiyu was gone, and Dulce was staring down into his face –no, it was sunflowers overhead as the board was loaded into the back of a wagon. So many people were shouting still and Seokjin only just realized it because it hadn’t stopped so he’d tuned it out. 

He cried out as the wagon jolted into action, and beside him Jimin rubbed his hair and soothed, “It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. You can’t die yet so you won’t, everything will be fine.”

“I’m not going to die,” Seokjin agreed. “This doesn’t seem like a good day for dying. I just need to lay down for a while.”

“You’re already laying down. Seokjin? Seokjin?”

Nasimiyu couldn’t bear to be next to Seokjin in the wagon –not that his guards wanted her there anyway. His manservant Jimin practically bodied her away as the wagon began to roll, but when King Donggun called for a horse, she echoed his demand, and so the two rode in the dust of the wagon with half their guards mounted around them, half running alongside to shout people away from the path. It was panic and chaos, between the people who didn’t know what was happening except it was something terrible, Lidmila and Mindeulle who both fluttered around like trapped moths as she left them behind, even in her own heart that couldn’t believe what she had just seen and didn’t know what it meant. Seokjin couldn’t die yet. This wasn’t her doing. Neither of them were supposed to die until she was securely married, so who had done this?! He must be in so much pain.

She reached the palace yard and let the horses be taken control of and didn’t spare a second thought about it. They were slowly lowering Seokjin from the wagon to carry inside but he wasn’t making any noise and she didn’t know what that meant. If he’d been stabbed in the heart, he would already be dead. She couldn’t tell. Even though she saw the knife slide into him again each time she closed her eyes, she wasn’t sure where it hit, and she found herself too afraid to draw close. Instead she looked around, trying to figure out who did this, and whether she was in danger too. She took steps towards Seokjin, then back towards the yard to look for Dulce, then towards the palace because Dulce would tell her to get somewhere safe, right? That’s what she should do. Where was safe when she didn’t know who had just attacked the King and Seokjin, or why, or if she was next?

“Go to your room,” a voice commanded, as clear to her ear as if it had been whispered there. She looked back as Dulce appeared on a horse behind Mindeulle, Lidmila and her mother on others, Namjoon as well. Apparently more houses could be found after all, and in a way Nasimiyu felt like the true guard had just rolled in. They were in the palace and these people would keep her safe. 

Dulce slid from behind Mindeulle –what a place for Nasimiyu’s maid to ride! She wondered how that had come about but was too frazzled to ask. Instead she waited for Dulce to approach, and urge again,

“Go to your room with your guards in with you until we know what happened. Unless you already know?”

“I don’t know,” Nasimiyu insisted. “This wasn’t…”

“So go,” Dulce said again. They both watched as Lidmila’s mother went racing into the palace, where Seokjin and the King had already gone. Dulce looked like she planned to run after them.

Nasimiyu grabbed her arm, “Come with me too. Please.”

“I’ll come with you,” Lidmila said, leaping from her horse to Nasimiyu’s side in no more than three steps. Mindeulle and Namjoon were arguing in hushed whispers several yards away as the stablehands ran around shouting about whose fucking horses were these? As if that mattered right now. 

“Yes, both of you,” Dulce agreed. “Go. I’ll find out what’s going on.”

“No, come with us,” Nasimiyu argued. “What if there’s someone…”

“There’s no one–” Dulce began but was cut off by a woman’s shriek from within the palace. It was not the direction the others had gone. Nasimiyu’s instinct was to jump back onto the horse and ride far away but Dulce dashed without hesitation in the direction of the scream. Mindeulle and Namjoon ran after Dulce, and Nasimiyu’s feet carried her after them without meaning to. Lidmila grabbed her arm to hold her back but Nasimiyu felt tethered to Dulce and Mindeulle and Namjoon; she took Lidmila’s hand and pulled her along, too. Nowhere was safe but these people she was following were probably the ones who could protect them best. Everything Dulce had taught her about self defense had left her mind.

It wasn’t clear who had shrieked, but the why would never be forgotten. Seokjin’s bodyguard –the young one, not Jungkook but the other young one whose name Nasimiyu didn’t know– hung by the neck from the balcony, his bloody body swaying at the end of a velvet sash. A piece of paper was pinned to his chest though no one could read it from below.

“Don’t cut him down!” Dulce shouted at the servants rushing around the balcony. “Pull him up gently.”

“She’s right! Don’t disturb anything that could be on his clothes!” Namjoon yelled. “Don’t do anything until I’m there!” To those close, he muttered, “For all we know they’re fucking in on it. Nobody can be trusted right now– All of you get to Nasimiyu’s room and stay there with the guards– Dulce, you go with them.”

“I need to–”

“You need to get your mistress and these ladies to safety,” Namjoon ordered. “I’ll deal with this. Go!”

“I’ll help,” Mindeulle offered her brother.

“No I can’t keep arguing with you, all of you go and hole up until we know who’s doing this.” He gave Mindeulle a rough shove towards Nasimiyu and set off at a run for the stairs, shouting again at the servants not to do anything until he was there. 

Dulce looked furious, conflicted, but not afraid and Nasimiyu wanted to wrap around her. In the chaos, of course Dulce would be calm and sure of what to do. Nothing would get past Dulce. If Nasimiyu hadn’t sent Dulce away, maybe Dulce would have even stopped the blade before it got to Seokjin. Nasimiyu was sure of it.

“Dulce,” she called, reaching for her, accidentally bumping Lidmila, who had her hands over her eyes. 

“Go to your room. I’ll be there after I see what’s happening with the prince.”

“But Namjoon said–”

“He doesn’t give me orders and neither do you. All three of you go now, I’ll be there soon, you know my knock.”

That order given, Dulce took off. If Mindeulle and Lidmila were shocked by this behavior between the two of them, they said nothing, just looked to Nasimiyu for the first step forward. Nasimiyu tried to pull herself together despite the sick feeling of helplessness. 

“All right, both of you with me. Guards, follow close. We’ll set up a safe space in my room for now.” Her voice sounded shockingly stable as she led the way, fists balled to hide the shaking of her hands. This was no time to fall apart. Just because someone was hunting the royals and their guards for sport, didn’t mean she was next. She wasn’t part of this royal family. Yet. 

Why the fuck wasn’t Dulce with her?

The palace was in chaos but they cut through it, not slowing their steps until all three women and several extra of Nasimiyu’s trusted guards and a couple of her maids were inside her room.

“Brace the door,” she ordered. “No matter what, don’t let those doors open until I say.”

“What do we do? My mother is out there!” Lidmila cried.

“I think she went to be with the King and Seokjin so she’ll be surrounded by guards. For now we… wait,” Nasimiyu said, looking around at those sheltering with her.

“For what?” the maid Bab whispered to Eula.

“Until I say so,” Nasimiyu said, loftily. Unwilling to say the real answer: For Dulce. 

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[persphonesorchid]

Mark Of The Arcane || Chapter Five ||

↣ Summary; Centuries before, in the times of the ancient Kings, a prophecy was heard. When the three kingdoms of Valerem fall to ruins, their saviour would come in blinding starlight. Who is this saviour, you may ask? None other than Min Yoongi, who was too busy being late to work to realize he definitely wasn’t on earth anymore.

↣ Part: Chapter Five: Yoongi vs The Force

↣Word count: 7.4k

↣Warnings: Namjoon scares the shit out of everyone, Seokjin is uh...mean...(but he'll get better soon!) Mention of off-screen character death. I think that's all! :)

Chapter Archive | Masterlist

Notes: Okay so this took forever, i'm so sorry! But I'm back with a new chapter! Lots happening here! And Tae's here :)) I hope you guys enjoy it despite the wait! Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think!! Love yall ❤️

You follow behind your father’s guard, watching the way his cloak sways with his steps. You’re a little worried about leaving Yoongi with Seokjin, you’re aware that he isn’t very fond of him, whatever his reasons for that are. You just hope they’d get along well and long enough for you to meet with your father and return. 

“Do you know why my father sent for me?” You ask, your voice bouncing along the walls as you enter a stairwell. The guard’s steps are soundless as he takes them, and it reminds you of the skill it must take for them to protect the king. 

The guard glances back at you as he places his palm on a mahogany door and pushes, letting you go through it first. “I don’t, Highness. Though, it may have something to do with the festival.” 

You smile at the lisp in his words, the edge taken off him and softens his visage to you. The King’s guards are known for their stoicism and the fierceness in which they protect the king, but there are little things that remind you that they’re just people.

You nod as he resumes his pace in front of you. “Would your mother be attending?” 

“She never misses it, Highness.” You could see the lift of his cheeks under his mask and the way his eyes squished, his gaze soft in the morning light. 

You’re surprised your father hadn’t called on you earlier to discuss the festival, with it being your turn this year to do the rites. The Arcane Awakening Festival was an annual celebration of the royal family’s heritage and The First of their wielding, Incra. There was so much to do in the coming weeks, but so much has been happening beyond the walls of your kingdom you’ve hardly been able to focus on it. You hardly think it’s time to have a celebration in the first place. 

The buzz may have died down about the siege of Daasir, folks moving on as though people hadn’t been killed and had their livelihoods disrupted, but you remember. You suppose, because it has nothing to do with them, it was easy to let it slip from their minds. Daasir was a good day away, but regardless, on the doorstep of your kingdom. They deserve as much courtesy as any other folk that reside in the capital. 

Your father knew of it, and you’re pretty certain the other kingdoms know of it as well. Something was brewing and it wasn’t at all a good thing. 

You enter the King’s Hall, tapestries of navy blue and silver line the walls and run along the floor in a thick rug. Your escort stops at the entrance, opening the door for you one last time. 

“Thank you, Yeosang.” You say politely, dipping your head in a little nod, which he returns quietly. The door shuts behind you and you walk quickly up the hall towards your father’s chambers. You remember as a child you would chase the sun spots here, they shine down through the windows in the high walls, bright and warm. 

Your father’s quarters were on the opposite side of the castle, an unnecessary way away from the throne room in the main part of the castle, and as you’ve complained as a child, too far from yours. Sometimes, you could go days without ever seeing your father’s face, as when he’s too busy, he would take his meals in his chambers. Most of his official business happens in the Court of Houses, where he handles the political things that come with running a kingdom. When he’s not too busy, you would sometimes have breakfast with him in the private dining hall.

The last time you saw him was the night you had dinner in the hall and told him of Yoongi.

You stop at his door and knock gently and only enter when his voice calls. 

Your father looks tired. There’s a darkness under his eyes that wasn’t there the last time you saw him, and you’re pretty certain he’s gone more grey in his beard and the streaks of his hair. 

The King’s quarters consists of three rooms. The main room in the entrance, which acts as an office when meeting with official people unofficially. The large window directly behind him sprinkles his visage in a soft morning glow, the sun isn’t yet on that side of the castle to let the light in. There are shelves of books and tomes and things he’s never let you get close to, and the large table he keeps his things on in a state of organized chaos. 

Behind a door between the bookshelves are his bedroom, and beyond that, a room you’ve never been allowed to enter. Your father barely looks up from what he’s reading, a feathered quill in his left hand as he scribbles away onto another piece of parchment. 

You would like to think that the shadows of his face come from thinking too hard, looking for solutions to stop the war that is likely brewing on your doorstep. Of course, crime isn’t non-existent, it happens, it’s always no more than a man avoiding his taxes or something miniscule. Never on that scale, never something like that. 

Yoongi’s arrival should have spurred some kind of worry in your father at least, but when you told him how he’d ended up here and his arcane, he’d simply stared at you blankly, like he was suddenly somewhere else.

You stand quietly and wait until he’s done, eyes roaming over the portrait of your mother that’s hung on the wall. Despite its position and years of taking in the sun, the colours remain vibrant: the blue of her dress and the accents of it in her jewelry, the gentle smile on her lips. A much younger version of your father stands next to her, a hand on her shoulder and the other behind his back, dressed in his regency. He stands tall and the worries of a king had not yet seeped into his visage.

The King finally raises his olive eyes to meet yours, a gentle smile lifting his bearded cheeks. 

“Ah, Dearest.” He pushes back his chair to stand, rounding the table to take your hand and give it a light squeeze. “Have you had breakfast?” 

Admittedly, you hadn’t. Too excited to meet with Yoongi and show him around this morning, so you shake your head and your father frowns a bit. “That won’t do, little gale.”

You smile fondly at the nickname, and your father links his arm with yours and leads you out of his quarters and back down the hall. Yeosang opens the door before you both reach it, letting you both pass through before bowing at the waist in greeting. Back down the short twirl of stairs and up the hall towards the main part of the castle.

You cast a glance back down the hall where you’d left Yoongi and Seokjin earlier, but follow on towards the private dining room with your father.

“How is the boy?” 

The question startles you, not expecting anything but talk of the festival from him.

“He’s alright. Adjusting.” You answer and your father hums and says nothing more of it. He releases your arm to push the door open, a hand against your back gently ushering you in. The table is already laden with food and drink, and you take a seat as your father pulls a chair out for you. It’s quiet as you both set your plates, you help yourself to scrambled eggs and crispy toast glazed in honey and two sweet eclipse berry tarts – ignoring the disapproving look from your father.

Your father fills his plate with sandwiches, thickly sliced meat spilling out of it, and you giggle softly at the boyish way he stuffs nearly half of it into his mouth. He chews slowly and you wonder if he’s getting it all with the big bite he took, he passes you a meat pie and a steaming cup of tea.

You couldn’t nearly have a go at everything on the table, even if the spread today looks to be most of your favorites. At least, you know that it wouldn’t be wasted, anything uneaten would go back to the kitchens and be divided among the servants if they wanted it. You eat quietly, and you’re licking honey glaze off your finger when your father clears his throat and sets his tea down.

“Y/n, we have quite a bit to discuss.” He purses his lips at you trying to catch the honey sliding into your palm from the toast and you’re reminded of yourself and set the toast down. He narrows his eyes just a bit, though you could see the amusement in his eyes. “The festival approaches, you’re preparing to do the rites this year, aren’t you?”

“Yes Father.”

Your father nods sagely, and you know secretly he’s happy he doesn’t have to do it.

Preparing for the rites is mostly you meeting with the elder scholars and going over what must be said and how it must be said on the night of the festival, as well as learning a special stepped dance that you must do before saying anything at all. It’s quite tedious.

 “There is a chance that Lady Aurelia would be here as well – small chance – but we should be prepared for it nonetheless.” You nod along, dusting the flakes of the tart off your fingers, “Lumina is far away, if she does come for the festival , she would likely be here a day or two before it.”

Everyone is usually invited to the festival, though, you’ve never seen the Queen of the pixies in attendance.

As the King goes off into listing protocols for the day, you cut him off as politely as you can. As much as you’d love to sit and discuss it, the festival is some good weeks away, near a month, and there are more pressing things that could be talked about right now. “Father...”

“Yes?” He pauses, brows raised.

“About what happened at Daasir...”

Your father’s eyes darken, “What happened isn’t any concern of yours.”

“Father, it’s my concern as much as it is any one else’s. They’re my people too.” You fire back and watch as all your father’s patience drain out of him with the sigh he lets out. The hand on the table visible to you curls around the thumb, and he looks away, staring off into space for a moment. With him quiet, you continue on.

“I don’t understand why you’re trying to sweep it under the rug and act like it never happened. People have died, the prophecy is unfolding and you’re worried about the festival --!”

 “Y/n!” Your father’s fist comes down on the table, rattling the dishes and rendering you silent. “Enough.”

A muscle under your eye twitches, and you fight the urge to defy him. So you sit and stew in your anger, holding his hardened gaze with your own.

“It does not concern you. I will not be having this conversation again.” He stares you down until you break his gaze, turning your head to stare across the room. “Continue your preparations for the festival. Am I understood?” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” You say softly, and it’s quiet for a moment. You know he hates it when you use his title, but you’re angry at the way it’s so easy for him to toss urgent matters aside. “Am I dismissed?” 

He doesn’t answer and when you turn he’s already staring at you, looking fed up with your antics for the morning, but there’s something sad in his eyes that you’ll feel guilty for later. Perhaps when you’re older you’ll understand his plight as a King and father, but for now, you repeat your question and he sighs, waving a hand at you. You push your chair back, not bothering to tuck it back under the table before walking swiftly out of the room.

You walk down the hallway, grumbling to yourself all the way until you get through the little walkway that leads to the training courtyard. You go past the giant – ancient – oak tree near the entrance and round the wall just in time to Seokjin toss Yoongi over his shoulder. 

“Do you know how to hold a sword?” Seokjin asks as Yoongi follows him out into the blinding sunlight in the open courtyard. It seems to be a private training ground with nothing but the thick cobblestone wall that runs along the perimeter of the castle.

A large oak tree sits at the center, it’s really an odd thing and Yoongi wasn’t expecting to see it there, the dirt it’s raised in is surrounded by large stones that have funny markings etched into them. Some roots peak out of the dirt, rising above the ground before it dips back under, and Yoongi wonders how far and deep they run. In the ground around it, there are cracks and little blades of grass prevailing through the stone. 

On one far side of the courtyard is a weapons rack, they look to be for training purposes only, made out of wood, some of which are freshly polished and some are worn by use. They ranged from long swords to short blades, staffs that lean in a bundle against the wall, lances and shields. 

The other is a space split into two, one with dummies made of straw and wood, battered and bruised by the weather and use. The other is a space marked out by painted lines that – to Yoongi – looks like a Pokémon battlefield. There are stone benches against the fall facing it, which are probably for spectating. 

Seokjin unclasps his cloak, the material loosening from his shoulders with a little click, and Yoongi feels something like fear shoot up from his legs. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, taking a half step back from the other man. 

Seokjin smiles in a way that doesn’t actually ease Yoongi, but sends a nervous laugh bubbling up his throat in response. 

Instead of answering his question, Seokjin folds his cloak neatly and sets it on one of the benches, and unstraps the buckle that holds his sword to his hip. “Can you hold a sword?”

“No?” While Yoongi can hold a knife, he can bet it’s an entirely different story holding a sword. 

Seokjin nods, a look that shows that he expected that, but at the same time is unimpressed by Yoongi’s lack of defensive capability. Yoongi feels slightly offended.

“You can throw a punch then, right?” Seokjin rolls the sleeves of his tunic up his arms, “Know how to defend yourself?”

Yoongi nods and before he could confirm with his voice, Seokjin is moving faster than he could see him. He stumbles a couple of steps back as Seokjin closes in, barely lifting his arm to block the swing of the other man’s fist. The force and surprise of it has Yoongi tripping over his own feet and falling back on his ass with a grunt.

Seokjin sighs, looking down his nose at him.

Yoongi glares, “The hell’s your problem?” His arm throbs, and no doubt it will bruise later.

“Do you think that because your being here was foretold, someone would be around to protect you?” Seokjin tilts his head, and the little flicker of hope that Yoongi had this morning that he could possibly be civil with the guy smoked out. “You know what your prophecy says, don’t you?”

Slowly, Yoongi gets to his feet, still glaring, jaw clenched as he nods.

“Good, then you know that things are less than ideal. Learning the workings of your arcane isn’t the only thing you need to learn.” Seokjin takes a couple of steps back, “Your arcane is volatile,  you need to learn how to protect yourself without it until you learn how to control it. Her Highness asked me to help you in that regard, so I need to assess you.” 

Yoongi knows he’s right, there are ways to do things, though. Like maybe telling him all that before he charges at him like a madman. 

“You’re quick to block, so that’s good.” Seokjin widens his stance and then waves a hand at Yoongi, “Hit me.” 

“Huh?” 

“You said you can throw a punch; hit me.” 

Yoongi’s no professional fighter, but he can hold his own if he needs to – not that he ever had the reason to. Seokjin is intimidating standing as he is, clearly more knowledgeable than he is in the art of defense and offense. Yoongi tries not to let it show that he knows he’s going to be getting his ass handed to him wrapped and tied with a bow every time, as he copies Seokjin’s stance. Legs shoulder width apart, one foot just slightly in front of the other, arms up. He doesn’t miss the quick glance Seokjin gives or the near quiet huff of a laugh through his nose. 

He swings a fist, and realizes his mistake afterwards, when all Seokjin has to do is lean slightly to the side with more grace than Yoongi believes he’d ever possess, and jab a swift hand at his ribs. It wasn’t hard enough to bruise, but it aches nonetheless, and Yoongi still staggers back.

Seokjin rights himself as Yoongi does, humming softly to himself in secret assessment. “Again.” 

Yoongi tries again, after getting a moment to remove his cloak, too, and the result is the same, and despite the little chuckle that feels condescending, Seokjin seems to be taking his task seriously. This goes on for a while, with Yoongi throwing punches and Seokjin expertly avoiding them, while no doubt making mental notes, and Yoongi is quickly growing frustrated.

By the time Yoongi’s had it up to here with being on the defense, he’s panting and the tunic he wears is sticking to his back uncomfortably. Seokjin hasn’t broken a sweat, looking like the definition of put together and composed and that’s entirely unfair. 

“Are you sure you know how to throw a punch? You’re not even standing correctly.” Seokjin points a slightly crooked finger at Yoongi’s feet.

Seokjin might as well be training Yoongi to consider him his enemy because when he looks down, Seokjin darts forward again. Yoongi dodges and swings, and Seokjin easily counters by grabbing his arm and using his momentum against him.

There’s a rush of wind in Yoongi’s ears, the world blurs and then he’s staring at the blue sky. He lays there, catching his breath that was knocked out of him – trying not to pass out – and there’s a small sound from across the yard.

“Seokjin!” You rush over and Yoongi could see Seokjin roll his eyes, your form blocks out the sun that’s climbed higher in the sky and it makes you glow. The light weaves its way through your hair and dances along the outline of you, and Yoongi feels like he could reach out and grab it.

“Are you okay?” You ask, and Yoongi’s sure he’s red in the cheeks and he could only offer a thumbs up. 

You straighten up, turning to Seokjin fiercely, “Jin what is wrong with y—”

“I was assessing his skill!” Seokjin defends quickly and you swat at his arm. 

“That’s not what I saw!”

“Why would I just attack him?” Seokjin points a whole hand at Yoongi, who now was just laying on the ground, staring up at the sky like his soul is minutes from leaving this plane. “I was clearly on the defense!”

Yeah, right...

Yoongi sits up and dusts off his hands and he tries not to glare at Seokjin when the man offers a hand to help him stand. In your presence, Seokjin’s mood made a full one-eighty, suddenly acting as what Yoongi assumes is his usual self.

Seokjin gives him a once over, “Regardless, when I’m done you won’t have to worry.”

Yoongi isn’t excited to know what that means.

Later, Yoongi sits on the stone bench, feeling the coolness of the stone seep through his trousers as he leans back against the wall behind him. The shade of the oak tree offers him a small refuge from the midday sun, the dappled light casting shifting patterns across his lap. A gentle breeze stirs the branches above, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and leaves, but even this moment of calm can’t fully ease the tension coiling in his chest.

“Sorry about Jin,” you murmur, sounding almost sheepish on Seokjin’s behalf. “He can be… intense.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker toward you, his expression neutral, though inside, his thoughts churn. Intense barely scratches the surface. But instead of voicing his unease, he only nods. “It’s alright,” he says, his voice low and steady. He tells himself this is necessary. Seokjin is right, after all. If push comes to shove, he’d be helpless because he has no idea how to control his arcane. 

“I have to learn,” he adds quietly, almost as if he’s convincing himself.

You frown, your concern evident in the small crease between your brows. “Yes, but he doesn’t have to be such a brute about it,” you mutter, shaking your head. The irritation in your voice is clear, but Yoongi senses there’s more beneath your frustration. Your eyes flicker with something unspoken, but he doesn’t ask. He wonders what burdens weigh so heavily on a princess’s mind, but this isn’t the time for such questions.

Before the silence can stretch, Seokjin strides over, his cloak settled back over his broad shoulders, the fabric swaying with each step. He hands Yoongi his own cloak without a word, the gesture curt but not unkind.

The quiet is broken by the creak of the courtyard door opening, the sound echoing across the stone. A guard enters, his boots clicking sharply as he approaches. He stops a few paces away, bowing deeply at the waist.

“Your Highness, Prince Namjoon of Kadïr has arrived.”

Yoongi notices your brow furrow, the glance you share with Seokjin loaded with meaning, though it’s a conversation Yoongi is clearly not meant to understand. The door opens once more, and this time, another figure steps through.

The man who approaches exudes a calm, easy confidence. His steps are unhurried, yet there’s something purposeful in the way he carries himself. He’s dressed in deep shades of indigo and pearl white. His hair, dark and tousled, catches slightly in the breeze. There’s a smile playing on his lips—dimples forming as he greets you and Seokjin with familiarity; hugging you both.

Namjoon’s eyes turn to Yoongi and his smile falters, something flickering in his eyes.

“This is Namjoon,” You say softly, introducing him formally, “Prince of Kadïr.” 

“Don’t bow.” Namjoon says, raising a hand, his eyes crescent, and Yoongi hesitates, mid-motion, before straightening. Namjoon extends his hand instead, the same easy warmth returning to his expression. The breeze stirs again, warmer now, ruffling Namjoon’s hair as he waits for Yoongi to accept the handshake.

When Yoongi takes his hand, Namjoon’s grip is firm—steady, but as the handshake lingers, something shifts. The grip tightens, growing stronger, and then uncomfortably tight.

Yoongi frowns, instinctively pulling back, but Namjoon’s hand doesn’t let go. It’s as if the prince’s body has locked into place. Namjoon’s gaze, once focused and sharp, has gone distant. His eyes, a warm brown just moments ago, begin to cloud over, a milky hue spreading across his irises.

Namjoon’s grip was like iron. He isn’t sure what was happening—whether it was magic, or something far worse—but every second stretched unbearably. The warmth from the sun faded, the air around them growing thick. 

Yoongi’s heart pounds. Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Seokjin greeted the prince like an old friend, and you—you seemed comfortable enough. So why are you both just standing there?

A sharp whistle pierced the air, so loud it sent a ring through Yoongi’s ears, momentarily pulling his focus from Namjoon’s vice-like hold. Seokjin moves swiftly behind Namjoon wrapping an arm around his shoulders, supporting his weight just as his eyes roll back. Yoongi watched in horror as Namjoon’s body seemed to go slack, but his hand—God, his hand remained locked around Yoongi’s like a lifeline.

The sudden limpness of Namjoon’s body made Yoongi feel as though he were gripping a corpse. The eerie calm of the courtyard, once peaceful under the shade of the oak, now felt suffocating, almost mocking. Even the leaves overhead seemed to still, as if nature itself was holding its breath.

Yoongi’s gaze flicked over to you. Your expression is a mix of concern and fear that made his stomach twist. Whatever this was, it wasn’t normal.

Seokjin’s voice broke through the haze. “Yoongi, try to keep him upright,” he commanded, his voice steady but strained.

His legs felt weak as he shifted to try and help steady Namjoon, his hand still trapped in the prince’s vice-like grip. 

The prince’s eyes twitch behind his lids, his chest heaving in shallow breaths. Namjoon’s lips parted, but no sound escaped, only faint gasps, like he was drowning in air. Yoongi’s breath quickened in time with Namjoon’s, panic rising with each passing second. 

Suddenly, a dark figure swooped low across the courtyard—a flash of black feathers cutting through the tension. 

“Get Hoseok.” Seokjin calls, and his crow circles once, cawing before it darts off toward the castle, disappearing as it flies upwards and makes a sharp turn. 

“Hoseok will be here soon. Just hold him steady,” He mutters, as if the command would somehow ground Yoongi in this surreal moment.

Yoongi’s mind was a storm. He doesn’t know Namjoon, but the sight of him like this, slack and unresponsive, made his heart pound painfully in his chest. The world around him began to blur, the only sharp detail being the cold sweat forming on the back of his neck and the death grip on his hand.

“What’s wrong with him?” Yoongi finally found his voice, but it was shaky, laced with a fear he hadn’t intended to reveal.

“He’s having a vision, but…” Your voice was softer, edged with a confusion that only deepened Yoongi’s unease. “I’ve never seen it happen like this.”

Yoongi glanced at you, and the worry etched into your features struck him. You weren’t just concerned—you were frightened. That made it worse.

Time felt like it stretched on forever, the weight of Namjoon’s body growing heavier, his grip unwavering. Yoongi’s fingers began to tingle, and his palm was growing numb under the pressure. Then, finally—after what felt like an eternity—Namjoon’s hand slackened.

Yoongi almost falls backward, stumbling to catch himself as his hand is suddenly released, staring at the prince who now slumped entirely in Seokjin’s arms. Namjoon’s chest still rose and fell, but his face was ashen, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his brow.

With a bit of effort, Seokjin moves him to the bench. 

“Namjoon?” you whispered, kneeling down beside him, your hand hovering over his pale face as if afraid to touch him. But Namjoon remained still, unconscious, his expression twisted as though whatever he’d seen was still gripping him, haunting him.

Yoongi rubs his sore hand, his heart still racing. He couldn’t shake the image of Namjoon’s clouded eyes, the way they’d rolled back, as if something had ripped him away from the present and hurled him into some nightmarish vision.

Hoseok comes barging through the doors not long after, white cloak billowing behind him with his hurried steps. 

“What happened?” He kneels beside the bench, checking over Namjoon with a calmness only a healer could manage. 

“Not sure, he was fine one minute, shook Yoongi’s hand the next and went rigid.” Seokjin explains. 

Hoseok nods quietly and reaches for a leather pouch at his hip. He rummages for a bit, and pulls out a small bottle with a wooden stopper. “Jin, hold him, please.” 

Seokjin gently shifts you out of the way, and you move to stand next to Yoongi, wringing your hands in bouts of worry. Seokjin puts his arm over Namjoon’s chest, and the stopper comes out with an audible pop. It must be some sort of smelling salts, because Namjoon’s eyes immediately pop open when Hoseok holds it under his nose. 

They’re brown again. 

Seokjin’s arms over his chest stopped him from springing up too wildly. He takes a deep breath and pats Seokjin’s hand before he sits up slowly. 

“Thank you, Hobi.” He says, and he waves a hand when you ask if he’s alright. “Fine, I’m fine.” 

He looks around, as though he’s not quite certain where he is and then sighs. Everyone is looking at him with the same tense, worried expressions. 

“I’m alright.” His eyes find Yoongi’s and he looks away, “Waking Vision.” 

“Has it ever happened before?” Hoseok asks, as he puts the stopper back into the bottle. “The entire servant’s quarters heard Igni cawing a storm.” 

From somewhere above in the oak tree, Seokjin’s crow let out what can only be described as an offended caw. 

Namjoon shakes his head, “No, this is the first. I don’t...” he falls silent and then shakes his head as if to rid it of thoughts. “Sorry about that, I must’ve scared you all.” 

“Namjoon is a seer.” You say softly to Yoongi, and then, gently take the hand that Namjoon had been holding tight to, “Does it hurt much?” 

“Not really.” Yoongi’s lying, he’s fairly certain something’s broken, if not badly bruised. There’s worry on your brow again, “I’m okay.” 

Namjoon shuffles a bit, pulling a small book and a pencil from the pocket of his trousers. Hoseok comes over to check Yoongi’s hand and tells him he’s fine, and you go back to berating Seokjin for earlier ⁠— much to his chagrin — and the air is a little easier to breathe. 

After a while, Namjoon is led away to his room, and Seokjin to his duties and then it’s just you and him. 

You’re telling him about the upcoming festival, walking beside him as he goes back to his room. You don’t seem all too excited about it, even as you’re smiling, it barely reaches your eyes. 

“I’ll tell Seokjin to take it easy on you.” You pat his arm, and then clap your hands together, stopping. “Oh! Esther would like to start by this afternoon if you’re feeling well enough.” 

Yoongi just faintly remembers the motherly older woman. He hasn’t had a headache all day, so he supposes he’s okay for now. 

“I unfortunately... wouldn’t be able to be there...” You say, but grumble something else under your breath, shaking your head, “but you shouldn’t have to worry with Esther.” 

Yoongi nods, and looks down at his hands. He can only hope that it would be an easy thing to learn. He imagines that it’s easy for children here, as they are gifted from birth. It’s like being taken off the streets and put into a classroom with no prior education. 

“Okay.” 

After lunch, when the sun was at it’s peak, and Yoongi had just finished filling his tummy with braised fish, white rice and some sort of sweet fruit, Esther came knocking. 

She leads him down to the servant’s quarters and then through a door that leads to the back of the castle. It’s a wide open space, off to one side is a couple of posts with lines strung between them, a young man throwing white cotton sheets onto them. A gaggle of children kick around a ball, darting between the clotheslines and other adults. One of the boys laughs mischievously, and out of his hands spews an arch of water, the other children squeal as they avoid it. 

Within a fenced area, two women kneel, one with her hands in soft, upturned soil, and the other grinding something in a mortar. They chat softly, laughing to themselves. There’s sprouts of different vegetables, and small herb plants coming out of the dirt. 

Under the shade a small pergola, two older men teach a small group of kids how to weave a basket. They show them a simple way that their little hands can manage, and Yoongi’s heart goes out to the little girl who looks like a fish out of water. 

Everyone greets Esther as she passes by. 

They go through a wooden gate and beyond the wall is a field of wild grass and a forest edge in the distance. There’s a well trodden path that Yoongi follows Esther down, letting the tall grass slide through his fingers. 

There’s a clearing, barely any grass in the spot, and Esther tells Yoongi to sit. He sits cross legged and she does the same, smiling gently at him. 

“Her Highness told me your circumstances, so firstly, we’ll focus on feeling your arcane first.” Esther says, “Close your eyes and take a deep breath in.” 

Yoongi does as he’s told, letting the air expand in his chest, he listens carefully to what Esther says. 

“Our arcane magic is deeply rooted in nature, it is in us as much as it is around us. Feel that magic. Feel it in the air, the dirt beneath you, the warmth of the sun.” 

For a moment, Yoongi doesn’t feel what she’s talking about. He simply sits there, breathing, listening to her words. Listening to the wind rolling over the grass, the strange and somewhat familiar call of birds somewhere far off. The breeze that blows is a lot cooler than the sun’s rays, it sends goosebumps rippling up his arms when it dances by. The dirt beneath him is warm. 

And Yoongi will spend a lot of time this way. In the mornings he meets with Seokjin for combat training, and in the afternoons, Esther for glorified yoga. 

Neither of which is going well for him. Granted, Seokjin doesn’t randomly attack him to gauge his skill and for now focuses on his defensive fighting. Outside of his training, Seokjin is slowly becoming easier to be around. Yoongi would go as far as to say he was being nice most of the time. 

Esther assured him that the process of beginning to learn anything about controlling his arcane isn’t an easy one. The only result he’d seen since starting with her was that his headaches stopped completely and he didn’t need to see Hoseok anymore. 

It’s a week later when he starts improving. He’s sitting in the clearing, breathing the air, feeling the dirt, envisions himself as a filter as Esther had suggested one rainy afternoon. The magic around him flows in when he breathes, and circulates constantly. He has his ‘Lord of the Rings’ moment when he feels a slight tingle in his fingers.

“Esther?” Yoongi calls, eyes closed, and a furrow between his brow. His fingers are still a little sticky with honey residue from his earlier snack that Esther brought. He presses the tips of his fingers together, and then stretches them outward. “My fingers are tingling.” 

Esther is too silent, and Yoongi feels anxious enough that he peeks an eye open. He looks down at his hand and then excitedly back up at Esther. There, on the tips of his fingers are the tiniest specks of white light. They’re faint, barely there, but glowing. 

Esther claps her hands, the corners of her eyes crinkling with a proud smile. 

When Yoongi isn’t with Esther or Seokjin, he’s with you, in the library. 

The library was just as grand as he expected it to be; large glass windows and towering shelves filled with books. Although there isn’t much on his arcane, there’s a lot on arcanes in general. The books on ‘The Academic Study Of Arcana’ are huge dusty tomes that Yoongi is certain no one’s touched in a lifetime. 

The pages are delicate and he had a hard time trying to figure out how to turn them without damage. It took him days to get through the first section of the first book, which covers the ‘Historical Origins of Arcanes’ and he’s only scratched the surface of it. Necessary water he has to cross to further understand himself and this world he’s been apart of for the better half of a month.

You would sit next to him, silent as he studies, but would break things down for him in simple terms. He’s grateful for that. You’re away more than you’re present, stuck in your duties preparing for the festival. You would only be around for two hours if that many before you sadly slink away. But you’ve tried your best to be involved in Yoongi’s training. 

He’s met Taehyung officially, who is as eccentric as he is quiet. 

Through the tomes, Yoongi learned of Volatile Arcanes. Taehyung has the rare case of his magic intake is too much for his body to handle, and so, he wears a limiter. It’s a bracelet that sits snug on his wrist, made of silver and amethyst and imbued with pixie magic. Unfortunately, it only pulls some of the excess magic into itself, and it doesn’t stop Taehyung from being sick. 

Taehyung does have his good days, when he would sit and chat with Yoongi. He accidentally shocked him by poking his side to get his attention one day. Yoongi learned that day that Taehyung also wields a pure arcane. 

One day, the rain is pouring outside, pelting against the glass like bullets. The library looks dim, save for the lamps scattered around the place. 

Yoongi is sitting at the table, the tome he is reading is still open next to his hand, but he only feels sleep fogging his mind the longer it rains. You’re sitting next to him, cutting an apple into slices, and putting them onto a little plate, and Taehyung is having one of his better days. He looks brighter than Yoongi has seen him in a while, there’s colour to his cheeks as he talks animatedly. 

“Taehyung, you didn’t come see me this morning.” Hoseok’s voice travels from one section of the library, amongst the medical books. Yoongi can hear the frown. 

Taehyung sinks into his chair as though Hoseok could see him and he’s trying to disappear. Like a child scolded he mutters: “I was feeling okay today.” 

“Doesn’t mean you can skip your check-up.” Hoseok walks out from between the bookshelves. He sets the book he’s carrying down on the table, adding it to a growing pile. “Did you tell Jin the gems are cracking?” 

“I didn’t want to bother him...Daasir is really far, you know.” Taehyung grumbles. 

You slide the plate of apples over to him and  Yoongi shares a look with you as Hoseok looks stern. Taehyung clearly uses the apples as an excuse to not look at him, picking up a couple of slices to shove into his mouth with an over exaggerated hum.

“Taehyung...” He sighs, and then looks resigned, “I’ll let him know, and you can come see me later.” 

Taehyung hums non-committedly, and Hoseok purses his lips. He gathers up his books and says a curt goodbye, waddling out the library. 

You chuckle to yourself, “You know he’s scary when he gets mad, Tae.” 

Taehyung picks up another apple slice, nibbling into one corner with a shrug, his smile is adorably boxy, “He can’t stay mad at me, anyways.” 

The rain has finally held up, though it persists in soft, rhythmic drips from the ends of leaves and the sloped roofs of houses. The downpour has turned dirt paths into thick, clinging mud, and Ingrid carefully makes her way through Daasir, the sharp scent of wet earth and damp wood filling her nose.

She pauses on the edge of the dense forest, scanning for a path but finding none. Jimin is notoriously difficult to find. The forest itself seems to bend to his will, twisting and shifting to keep him hidden when he doesn’t want to be found. Even the trees appear to lean closer, their bark darkened with rain, their leaves trembling.

With a soft sigh, Ingrid steps over a large root. The forest’s chill seeps through her boots, and the overcast sky casts shadowed hues of green and gray, making it feel more like evening than midday. Daasir has yet to reclaim its luster, even though weeks have passed since the attack. The once-bustling town feels hollow; fewer merchants line the roads, and most businesses remain closed, their wooden signs hanging askew, darkened by rain.

It takes her a while to find the path—a fleeting trail that seems to vanish if she looks away for too long. Each step further blurs the sounds of Daasir behind her until all she can hear is the soft crunch of leaves, the squish of wet dirt beneath her boots and the occasional rustling of branches in the damp, dense air.

When she finally finds the elusive clearing, Jimin is there, his back turned as he tends to a patch of luminous blue plants that pulse faintly with magic. He doesn’t look surprised to see her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as she approaches.

“Hello, Ingrid,” he greets, his voice light. She bows respectfully, noticing the slight twitch in his brow as he watches her. “How do you always find me so quickly?”

Ingrid chuckles softly, though a slight weariness lingers in her tone. “I’ve lived long enough; I know all of your tricks.”

Jimin hums, straightening and brushing dirt from his hands. The earthy smell clings to him, mingling with a faint sweetness—a fragrance of wild herbs and honey. He gestures toward the door, and she follows him inside. This time, there’s a warmth in the air, the faint crackle of logs in a hearth she suspects he’s neglected for hours.

He glides forward, pulling the door that leads to his workshop closed. She watches as he opens it again, the staircase within curling upward instead of down, an enchantment only he could manage. She follows, feeling the cool draft shift to warmth as they ascend, the wood beneath their feet creaking in a way that makes it feel alive.

“You’re like a witch out in this forest, Jimin,” she remarks, watching his wings twitch slightly, casting faint shadows on the walls. He laughs, the sound carrying a brightness that feels out of place in the dim space.

Once at the top, Ingrid slips off her shoes, unwilling to track the wet forest into a space that looks so intentionally tidy yet oddly untouched. She notices an armchair in the corner with its messily folded blanket and an empty one inches away against the wall.

Jimin’s wings buzz faintly as he moves into the kitchen, busying himself with washing his hands and then setting a kettle on a heating stone. The light scent of tea leaves fills the air as he pulls some confectioneries from a cupboard, each preserved with magic and glistening faintly with the spell’s residue.

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here for idle chat,” he murmurs, setting the kettle to boil. He places the small, glistening sweets on a plate and slides it across the counter, though he doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

Ingrid takes a seat in the armchair against the wall, feeling its warmth seep into her as if the forest chill has no place here. “Perceptive,” she says, watching him closely. “This is important.”

Jimin’s light-hearted expression dims, his gaze drifting to the window, where the leaves outside tremble in a gentle breeze. The whistle of the kettle cuts through the quiet as he moves to pour the tea, his movements slowing as she speaks.

“You know Rowan was killed in the attack,” she continues, each word drawing his attention, his jaw tightening. “And you know what they were looking for. The records are safer in Lumina, and you’re the only one who can—”

“Ingrid, I’ve told you before. I’m not going back.” Jimin’s voice cuts in, and he sets the cups down with a soft but unmistakable edge. His eyes flash, revealing a rare vulnerability.

“This is a matter of life and death, Jimin.” Ingrid’s voice lowers, her gaze unyielding. “You know they’re too valuable to leave in Kadïr. You’d be helping more people than you realize.” She leans forward, her eyes steady, as though daring him to meet her gaze.

He clenches his jaw, staring down at the tea, the scent now oddly bitter. Outside, the wind stirs the leaves, casting shifting shadows over his face. She can see the conflict in his eyes.

He walks over and places the steaming cup in her hands with a finality, the warmth of it contrasting with the coolness that settles between them. Whatever his reasons – he’s never told her, Jimin must understand. There are way bigger things afoot than his little game of runaway prince. 

Jimin swallows, his voice tight. “…Fine. I can have it arranged. But that’s as much as I will do.”

[Bold: can't tag]

Series tag: @mssukeyna @purest-expressionofgrief @i-dont-give-a-fok @xyahrinx @3sriracha @loveyoongles @studiosakuras @amon-rei @freyawreya

[runariya]

Those 2 fics you discontinued… would you be able to give us an idea or little summary of how you intended to end them? For us to get a little bit closure? 🥺

Sure, I don’t mind at all. Storylines below the cut~

MBV

In Ch8, Jin and OC go to the club La Rose, where they see Jennie with her mobster husband. Jin forces OC to kill Jennie with poison bc Jennie’s husband had Jin’s wife killed (eye for an eye). Meanwhile, Jungkook goes to Tae to find out what OC’s role is with Jin, and Tae shows him the footage from the night her parents were murdered. When OC comes home and tells Tae she killed Jennie, he loses it, moves out and turns his back on her. Jungkook was actually a fighter for Jin but stopped after he’d saved up enough money for his family. He was a hypocrite for reacting as he did bc the fights were often to the death, and since he’s still alive, it means he’s taken many innocent lives to earn that money.

After that, OC finally wants to take revenge on the mayor, but when she reaches his penthouse, he’s already tied to a chair. Looking around, she notices Pulse/Jungkook in the shadows, his gift and apology for how he reacted. OC kills the mayor with a timer set to last as long as it took him to kill her parents. When she’s finished, it’s like the darkness is draining out of her, and she suddenly realises what she’s been doing all along, has a panic attack, and as soon as Jungkook hears the police approaching, he forces her to escape. OC collapses on a rooftop in the rain as the last of the darkness leaves her.

Ch9 is Jungkook looking after OC as she keeps fading in and out of consciousness from withdrawing from her dark side, and how they slowly reconnect.

Ch10 is sort of the epilogue, their wedding, with Tae back in their lives, though their relationship is no longer what it used to be.

The Tribute

Ch2 is about the training preparation for the arena, where OC struggles massively but keeps getting back up. Jungkook never takes his eyes off her from the stands. There’s also the press conference where all the tributes are presented, and OC, as an act of rebellion, makes the Bangtan symbol. The night before the games begin, Jungkook has her brought to a tree in his royal garden, where he bites the side of her chest. This not only hides the mark from others (which is strictly forbidden bc it’s an advantage) but also allows him to speak to her in her thoughts, tho it doesn’t work the other way around.

In Ch3, the Hunger Games begin, and OC is solely focused on surviving at all costs, watching as one tribute after another dies. The audience can send gifts to the tributes, but these can also be poisoned. Jungkook helps her by warning her if a gift she receives is deadly or not. After several days, when she’s at the end of her strength, a tribute tries to kill her, but Jungkook helps her again, and she survives, just barely.

In Ch4, only three tributes, including OC, are left, and it becomes increasingly difficult for her to hold on. She eventually breaks down and indirectly calls out for Jungkook’s help (“please help me” style without mentioning his name). Then the dome explodes, and Namjoon rescues her. They flee far away, where Jungkook is waiting for her.

In Ch5, Jungkook and OC, along with Namjoon, and Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jimin as council members, and Seokjin and Taehyung as royal guard leaders, begin to plot a revolution. Their goal is to kill the king, bring peace to Earth, and end the Hunger Games once and for all.

Ch6 is the revolution itself, leading to a new reign with Jungkook as king and OC as his queen.

Not as satisfying as reading the fics, but this is honestly all I can manage atm…hope it’s still enough 💕

[riphobisbraces]

The Lucky Seven | BTS ot7 x reader

Hybrid/Royal AU

~ chapter 2 ~

[ word count: 3400+ ]

❀ genre: dark royal core, hybrid au, royalty au, hybrids/knights!ot7 x human/princess!reader, afab (she/her) reader, polyamory (mostly ot7 x reader), strangers to lovers, daddy dom, smut and sexual sometimes. tiny bits of horror

❀ warnings: smut, swearing, murder, death (not the reader or ot7 though, I'm not evil), mentions of inbreeding (not between reader or ot7) some unsettling horror depictions, it won't be every chapter though or the whole story, just little bits here and there. (I'm willing to re write chapters for you to read if you can't do horror but still wanna follow along, just ask! 🖤)

——— summary ———

In a world of hybrids and humans, following each other closely to extinction, you are one of the last full humans, Princess y/l/n of the emerald nation. humans are essential for the survival of hybrids so why are assailants hunting you and your family down? because of this, the court has decided it’d be best for you to be guarded at all times by the nations strongest knights, you’ve only ever heard of them but have never seen their faces. What will happen once you come face to face with the infamous “lucky seven”?

[ chapter 2 ]

chapter content warnings: possible emetophobia warning: mentions of needing to throw up (character doesn’t actually throw up though) and unintentional self-harm.

The cold night’s air trickled between Namjoon’s thick fur. Millions of thoughts ran through his mind, faster than the paws carrying him and the princess. What was the princess doing outside? Why did she look so familiar and most of all, are his pack mates okay?

Growling out of frustration whilst running into the night, he shakes those thoughts out. For now he has only one thing he needs to focus on. Getting you to safety and he knows exactly where you’ll be safe.

-

Multiple hurried footsteps and panicked screams filled the room. It was chaos. What was a joyful and merry evening turned into absolute havoc.

The once golden room suddenly having turned cold and blue, its warmth having completely washed away. Hobi quickly ran and tried to push through the crowd looking for any of his pack mates. It seemed impossible with the sea of people engulfing him.

Just as Hobi started to feel hopeless, he found two of his pack members, Jin and Jimin, spotting them from across the room. Hobi used his hands to cup around his face before yelling desperately “JIN! JIMIN-AH! “ The two instantly recognized that voice.

They both quickly snapped their heads into the direction of where it came from, spotting their fellow pack mate trying to make his way through the wave of people. What after seemed like forever, they all finally reached each other, Jin grabbing onto Hoseok’s hands.

“Where are the others” Jin quickly questioned. “I don’t know, you’re the first two that I found” replied Hoseok. Jimin starts glancing around, running his hand through his hair as he pondered.

“Well wherever they are, they can handle themselves. For now we have to neutralize the threat.” Jimin asserts before turning to his fellow knight and pack member, Hoseok. “Hobi, you were the one who alerted that the princess was being attacked, where did the arrow come from?” Questioned the knight.

Hobi doesn’t waste time in answering, “Follow me, I know what direction it came from. Possibly even the shooting location” briskly, Hobi starts making his way to where he suspects it came from, with Jin and Jimin following closely and quickly behind.

-

The temperature around your body is warm. You feel snug and drowsy. Hearing the crackle of fire wood just makes you want to fall back even deeper into your slumber.

The smell of cedar filling your nostrils, comforting you furthermore. Shifting around and moving your legs, you start to feel the softness of blankets underneath, gliding against your skin as you moved. You start to wonder when was the last time you felt this pleasant..

Alas the sudden realization of what had just transpired abruptly started streaming back into your head. Quickly, you sat up, instinctively backing up and grabbing onto whatever was underneath you which happened to be the same blanket that had just brought you so much comfort.

“Your highness, you’re awake” a deep voice suddenly declared, making you shoot your head into the direction it came from. Letting go of the blanket in defense you realized it was the same man from before, the wolf hybrid. He was sitting beside your bedside in a wooden chair.

You didn’t get to have a good look at him before due to the havoc but now that you are, you realized that he’s a gorgeous man. He had tan skin and dark siren-like eyes. His hair was dark, adorned with an undercut.

You found yourself studying his features, they were soft and welcoming. As you sat in silence, taking in the man before you, the same voice suddenly interrupted your admiration. “your highness? are you alright?” his face contorted into worry.

How embarrassing. “y-yes, I am alright.” You answered before quickly looking down to avoid the man you had just been in awe of. Feeling his gaze burn into you, you can’t help but look back up, taking in your surroundings instead, trying to ignore the man obviously examining you with his eyes.

The room was lit with an orange hue from the fire, the room being much smaller than any you’ve ever been in before. Instead of the white walls and golden accents you were accustomed to, you were surrounded by walls of bark.

The walls simply decorated with some little paintings here and there. Looking around some more you noticed this room had no windows, how peculiar you thought to yourself. You noticed some bookshelves hung on the wall above the fireplace across from you, filled with old and torn books much like your own books.

Once you felt you’ve taken in enough of your surroundings and felt more at ease about the man that was studying you, you looked back down. Examining the sheets you were covered in, you realized they were a maroon shade. the colour was dull but you could tell it had been a vivid maroon at some point, or even red.

You decide to finally ask the questions that had been on your mind since you woke up. “Where am I? Are my parents okay?” you asked feebly, ashamed and feeling as though these circumstances were all your fault. Still looking down, you grip onto the sheets once again awaiting his answer.

“You’re at my pack’s den. Kings orders were to get you away from the chaos until it was deemed safe. Unfortunately I don’t know about the well being of your parents but as you might know, your mother didn’t attend the ball, just your father. Last I heard, he was being led to safety.” He replied with a gentle voice, as to not stress you out anymore than you already are. Sighing you let go of your grip to hold your face. covering your eyes, you just sit there, not wanting to cry in front of a stranger especially as princess.

You were to be queen one day and queens cannot show weakness, especially to their subjects. Your heart filled with rue, you decide to let go of your face. Turning to the man once again. “Your name…. It’s sir Namjoon.. right?” you inquired. His eyes widening from the sudden question and the fact that you knew his name.

You must of heard it when Hoseok was talking to him. His face quickly turns from surprise to a gentle smile “yes your highness, my name is Namjoon. Sir Kim Namjoon.” he confirmed.

He then got up from his seat to bow, before gently grabbing your hand with both of his. Softly, he brought it to his lips, you could feel his breath against your hand before he bestowed a kiss of respect upon it, his lips ever so slightly brushing against it. You’re used of servants bobbing you a curtsy or kissing your hand out of respect but this feels different.

You could feel your face start to get hot at the contact, stomach contorting into a ball of what feels like butterflies trying to fight their way out. Taking your hand back, you glance back at the man, met with the same warm smile you had been examining before.

Scratching the back of your neck, you quickly turn your head to face the other way, an attempt at looking at anything but the beautiful man in front of you. You knew your face was probably the colour of crimson so this was as an attempt of hiding that. Glancing around, you remembered how there were no windows, what time was it?

The last thing you remembered was riding away from the palace on top of the wolf hybrid. Had you fallen asleep? You looked for a clock in vain before briskly turning back to face the very man you were just trying to avoid eye contact with. “Ummm… how long was I sleeping for? What time is it?” You questioned, fidgeting with your hands, a bit embarrassed that you had fallen asleep on the hybrid.

“Oh! I apologize, it is the next day. it’s….” he looked down at his watch “09:37” looking back up at you he continued “speaking of, my pack should be back soon, along with your servants and a carriage to escort you back to the palace” he smiled. It’s the next day? You slept for so long, and he had to watch you the whole time.

Your guilt growing, you look down at your hands. Your chest weighing you down, you uttered “I’m… I’m sorry.. I fell asleep on you...” you sniffled. Surprised by your own unexpected moment of weakness, you really didn’t want to cry but you just couldn’t fight the tears.

Oblivious to the man’s sudden worried expression, you continued “and you had to watch me… all night… it’s all my fault, I-I put your pack in d- danger-“ you tried to continue as the lump in your throat fought to take over. But before it could, abruptly, your vision is covered.

Large arms are wrapped around you. They feel warm and comforting. You’re being gently pressed against a broad chest before you realize, he’s hugging you. His scent and warmth instantly calming you down.

Your muscles relaxed and you went loose while you breathed in his scent, closing your eyes. Slowly breathing in and out to calm yourself down, you just sat on the bed, letting yourself be embraced by the man. The embrace is cut short by the realization of what Namjoon had just done.

Gently pulling away, “Y-your highness…” he stammered, clearly embarrassed and quite frankly, scared of what he had just done. Standing up straight, he explained “please forgive me, that was out of line. it’s just… you looked so sad..I felt…” he continued, letting go of your arms to run his hands through his hair but before he could finish, the sound of horses and footsteps cut him off, making the both of you stand up.

-

“thank you once again sir Namjoon, to you and your pack for keeping the princess safe and your services” Your father’s servant said to Namjoon, bowing gratefully to the wolf hybrid. “ it’s really no problem, we are glad to be of service to the king” the hybrid replied, returning the bow.

Your fathers leading officers and servants had come to pick you up from Sir Namjoon’s and his pack’s den. Sitting in the carriage, you stared at the man who had saved you the night before. Pondering of what had transpired just before your father’s men had arrived.

You’ve never been held before by anyone before but your parents and governess. It felt nice. the different body type holding you, way bigger than your parents or governess’ body. It made you feel at ease and protected.

Suddenly your stare is met with his, his head turning to face you. He flashes you a smile before you quickly look down in embarrassment, fiddling with your hands. How rude of you, this man had just saved your life and you repay him by staring?

Footsteps interrupt your mental self beating, realizing they belong to the wolf hybrid that had saved you the night before. He’s coming this way, why do you feel so nervous? “Your highness?” he inquires.

“yes?” You answer with a small smile. “Im very sorry about… what happened in the den. I was out of line and I can only hope you and your father could forgive me for crossing such boundaries” all he did was hug you. You knew it was only a problem because you were the princess but what if you weren’t… would he….

You cut your own thoughts off. You can’t be thinking like that. “oh.. yeah.. please pay it no mind, I really didn’t mind… I actually.. quite enjoyed it.” You admit, mentally slapping yourself as soon as you said so.

A flush quickly took over his face, heart skipping a beat before he started smiling widely. “well.. me too.. you’re highness.” he also admits. You’re both looking at each other, smiling in silence.

Rubbing your hands together nervously, no one’s ever looked at you for this long before and neither have you ever looked at someone for so long. You didn’t want to admit it but for some reason, you wanted to be held by him again, to have his arms around your body, keeping it in a cocoon of safety and maybe… maybe even love-

“WE’RE OFF IN TWO MINUTES” the sound of your fathers men startled you from your thoughts, maybe for good reason too. “well, I guess I’m off.” The hybrid proclaimed with a half smile. “Me too I guess” you responded.

He then reached into the carriage to grab your hand, gently brushing a kiss against it once more just like he did inside, making your heart flutter. He then bowed and said “goodbye Princess. I hope our paths cross again one day” he smiled. You felt your stomach do flips as you looked down.

You uttered a shy “goodbye sir Namjoon… so do I” before looking back up. Looking into each others eyes, you smiled at each other one last time, the hybrid giving you a nod before reluctantly turning away. “MEN, WE’RE OFF” and just like that, the carriage started to move, finding that your eyes never left the man and the direction he was going.

While watching him, you notice his figure was suddenly accompanied by 6 other ones, all walking into the den you had just vacated in. Who were they? Looking back into the front of the carriage, reality started to sink in and your circumstances.

Realizing your parents were waiting for you back home, a sinking feeling settles in. You are in so much trouble.

-

Sitting in the plush chair in your room, you can’t help but think about the men from last night. Hobi, was it? And Namjoon. They were both very attractive yes but truth is, that wasn’t the only reason you kept thinking about them.

Who were they? What were they doing at the ball and why did they seem to know you? Sitting back on the chair, you brought your legs up, holding them against your chest.

Most importantly, how did Hobi know you were the princess? Sure he said you smelt of human but don’t other human hybrids do too? You are a full human though you thought to yourself. Maybe that’s it. You were missing the hybrid scent and perhaps he put two and two together, you and your parents are the last full humans in the nations after all.

Groaning, you slightly swung your head back in frustration. You need to see them again, you thought to yourself. You need answers. Knocking brings you out of your rumination, “your highness?” A voice spoke behind your doors.

“yes?” You replied. “your presence is requested in the courtroom by your Father” Shit. You knew your father would be livid about all of this but the courtroom?

What was he up to? Was he going to send you away? All of these worries ran through your head before you stood up. Turning toward the door, you croaked out a pathetic “I’ll be there in five minutes”.

-

Your steps echoed the hallways, shoes clacking against the marble. Hugging yourself while walking, you can’t help but tighten your grip around your arms the closer you get to the courtroom. Your eyes trailing the passing paintings hung alongside the hallway, a feeble attempt to keep your mind calm.

Alas it’s futile as your thoughts keep running your mind rapid. What if father sends me to a nunnery you think, you’ve never been away from your parents your whole life so this frightens you. Or worse, what if he decides to keep you locked up in one of the dungeons for the rest of your life.

You find your nails starting to dig into your skin, you need to throw up. You stop and kneel. Coughing as you hold on to your stomach. Nothing is coming out.

You can’t throw up but you need to. Tears started beaming through your eyes before you quickly got up. You dusted yourself off and wiped your tears. You need to do this. You need to get it over with.

As you continue your way down. The doors of the courtroom finally come into sight, making your heart drop. ‘This is it’ you think to yourself. You feel as though you’re not in control, you just want to run away but your body is calmly walking toward the doors with no hesitation.

Reaching for the handle, you gently turn it, using your weight to push it open. Why can’t you run, you just want to turn back. Entering the room, the discussion within it instantaneously became quiet. All eyes turned to face you.

A large L shaped table sat in the middle of the room, your Father at the end of the L. The courtroom had high ceilings and tall windows, velvet red curtains draped over them. You cleared your throat, ignoring the eyes on you, you held your head up high and calmly began to make your way to the end of the table, where your father was.

The once clamorous room, was now filled with nothing but the clacking of your shoes against marble. All you could feel were dozens upon dozens of burning gazes, almost making you trip as you walk. Once you made it to the end, you looked at your father.

Meeting eyes with his, his face is filled with sadness but somehow also solace. Without warning, something overtakes you. You thought you could do it but your Fathers’ face had made you weak. You were guilty.

You sank to the floor almost mimicking the way your heart felt. Kneeling down, you placed your forehead to the ground, hands placed side by side. Gasps and muttering quickly filling the courtroom at the spectacle, silencing as fast as they started at the wave of your Father’s hand. His sight never leaving you, “Father…” you weakly whispered.

“Please, forgive me… I can’t-“ you were about to finish when you heard a chair being pushed back. You looked up, your father was walking briskly toward you. You were scared but then you noticed his eyes were glossy.

He quickly picked you up from off the floor, embracing you like he never had before. “Daughter…” you hear your father choke out. your eyes were wide when they suddenly filled with tears at the realization and relief.

Feeling safe, you quickly wrapped your arms around him. Oh how you loved your father. After a few minutes, your father pulls away from the hug, wiping your tears. “a future queen should never cry in public” he reminded you, smiling.

You chuckled at the joke “yes father” looking down as he pushes your hair behind your ears. He was so glad that you were safe, he didn’t even care about the disobedience. One thing was made clear to him though, he could not stop you. So if he couldn’t stop you, you would just have to be protected at all times.

“Daughter, I know I cannot stop your desires to leave the palace, I can see that clearly now..” he admits shamefully while looking down. “and because of last nights threat, you will have to be guarded at all times, even more so than before” your heart began to palpitate in excitement. Wait… does this mean.. you can leave the palace?

Looking into your fathers eyes with anticipation, you spoke up “what are you saying father?”. Your father sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose “you may leave the palace from time to time, but you must be guarded by all seven while doing so.”

all seven? You cocked your head in confusion before your father registered your questioning look, clearing his throat before continuing “because of last nights threat, the court and I have decided you need to be guarded at all times” guarded? Like, a babysitter? “by whom?” You inquired.

Your father snaps his fingers, signalling to one of his servants to bring whoever it is, in. Hurriedly, the servant runs to the other door connecting to the next room, opening it. The men who came waltzing in, made your breath hitch.

It was seven handsome knights, two of them being the same men from the night before, Hobi and Namjoon. After quickly scanning them, your eyes met with Namjoon’s. A smirk appearing on his face. “I bet you didn’t think our paths would cross again so soon, your highness.”

A/N: OOOOOOOO cliffhanger! I know I said we would meet the boys this chapter but I didn’t want to rush things, howeverr I PROMISE we will meet the rest of them in the upcoming chapter :) anyway what did you think of the chapter? Any notes are deeply appreciated, especially comments. It makes me so happy that people are actually reading this, I promise I’ll do my best to deliver! Have a good rest of your day/night everyone, I’m gonna get started on chapter three once I wake up tomorrow ☺️

P.s I was asked about a tag list, so if anyone is interested, just ask! I’ll be putting the tag list on the next chapter xx

Next chapter:

[explicit-tae]

Pride & Gluttony

Pride; a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements. Gluttony; over-indulgence and over-consumption of food, drink, or wealth items, particularly as status symbols. Upper level demon Seokjin - known as the deadly sin of Gluttony - follows alongside Namjoon - known as the deadly sin of Pride- returns to Earth 50 years after their demonic counterparts to wreck havoc on a new generation of sinners.

Lust - Envy - Wrath & Greed - Sloth

Warning: voyeurism, threesome, oral (m receiving), degradation,

Word Count: 1,427

Alternate Universe

Time passes through realms differently. Earth was fairly slow compared to Heaven and Hell. Time doesn’t necessarily exist outside of Earth, so it’s safe to safe that when nearly 50 Earth years passed, it was as though a few hours had passed through Hell. The scenery has changed much - especially the castle Namjoon visited with his counterparts. The castle appeared much higher than before and expanded a few hundred miles out. Next to the castle stood the cemetery grounds where the former rulers laid to rest - majority of them in Hell where he resided.

Namjoon’s eyes and ears expanded throughout the land - the townspeople complaining of their lives living within such a place. The tax skyrocket year after year and the pay was less and less each few months. The townspeople often complained about the way they lived - working to fund a lifestyle of the non-working class (the royal family) while their own family barely made it day by day.

“My roof is collapsing.” Murmurs a man as he takes a bite of his sandwich served on moldy bread - yet that was all he could afford.

“You’d think the amount of taxes we pay they’d fix our homes.” Says another man - not too loud enough for the guards to hear, they had eyes and ears everywhere.

The words of the people caused Seokjin to snicker. The former Queen had fought long and hard to regain the trust of the townspeople - even killing her own sister who was ruling in order to do so. All of her work had long went down the drain. People adored the former Queen right up until her timely death. However, her daughter - the eldest child - has ruined her mothers good deed. She didn’t take after her mother but instead her aunt, a women she never met. Maybe greed was in their blood.

The current Queen, Y/N, wasn’t as diabolical as her aunt. Did the townspeople hate her? Sure - yet she had a lifestyle to live by and guards and knights to pay. Her castle needed renovating and the cost to open new business around the land wasn’t cheap. Her mother wouldn’t be proud of her for doing what she does, but her mother’s disapproval no longer lingered ove her head. She was proud of herself, after all. She stepped up after her mother’s death and did what was needed to be done. She brought extra reinforcements in from outside sources to assist in building multiple warehouses and storefronts.

You sit with your arms crossed. The throne chair was tall, even towering over your figure and nearing the ceiling. Your sister sat besides you, eyes scanning the crowd before her with such lack of interest. It was unbearable to sit alongside the Queen and pretend to be interested in whatever politics was spewed out.

“This is my kingdom!” You hissed, nails digging into your thrown chair and you uncrossed your legs. Your eyes squinted at the rowdy crowd yelling and spewing out their hatred for the Kingdom.

“You all will bow to my word or…” you shrug, leaning back into your throne chair. “…burn.”

Gasps erupt through the Kingdom; along with several murmurs. “You all will do as I say or die.”

You hear your sister snicker then sigh. She leans back into her chair further and turns to the side to look at someone.

The scene freezes, the shouts of protests coming from townspeople emerges to a complete silence. Seokjin raises a brow while Namjoon hums. Yoongi shakes his head as the three figures shine before their eyes.

Humility shakes their head.

Temperance grimaces.

Diligence wrinkles their nose at the scene.

“Obviously,” Seokjin crosses both arms. “you’ve requested our presence for this reason.”

It wasn’t taboo for the sins to meet their opposites, capital virtues, nor was it taboo for them to join forces for, as their opposites put it, “the greater good”.

“We’ve been dealing with this problem for years.”

“50 to be exact.” Temperance shakes their head. “And we believe-“

“For the greater good we eliminate the sinners.” Yoongi murmurs word for word - the same words he’s heard time and time again; for centuries.

Diligence scoffs.

“You know,” Namjoon hums. “for beings that are supposedly high, mighty and virtuous…you sure need our assistance with eliminating those who you deem unworthy.”

It’s no secret that those who resided in Heaven are not against asking those who reside in Hell for assistance. They’ve asked countless times before and would even after this situation. However, it didn’t come without a price.

“What do we do? Drag them to Hell with us?” Namjoon glances to the frozen face of the Queen.

“We’d have to ensure the rest of the Kingdom is in mint condition before we do anything.” Humility insists.

“If we handle this problem,” Seokjin waves his hand to the frozen Queen and Princess. “The bloodline will be wiped out.”

“And this Kingdom will fall.” Yoongi hums, yet he couldn’t are less.

Temperance tilts their head, defeated.

“Unless,” Namjoon snaps a finger. Below them, a large portal opens and fire engulfs.

Temperance, Diligence and Humility stammer back with wide eyes. “What in Gods name-“

“Wrath.” Namjoon nods. “Hobi.”

“I was busy.” Hoseok rolls his eyes and snarls at the three heavenly figures.

“Lemme guess, you need our help? Again.”

You scream at the top lungs, arms thrashing to side to side while your legs kicked. The pain was excruciating - until it wasn’t. Your ears rang in realization that you were the only sound you could hear - no longer the equal screams of your sister; nor the shouts of the townspeople.

Your eyes snap open, unsure where to focus on. You begin to tremble with the realization that you weren’t alone - and you weren’t clothed. Your arms go to wrap around your body the best you could.

“You’re finally with us.” A voice calls. “That means the townspeople have killed you.”

Your voice gets caught in your throat. The last memory you had was the townspeople rioting. A few glimpses of breaking out and the pain you felt when the flames hit you - yet everything remains fuzzy.

“W-Where’s my-“

“Dead.” Another voice says - but your eyes can only stare straight head at the sea of people - creatures to be exact. “Welcome to Hell.”

Your reaction doesn’t come. Not because you weren’t utterly shocked by the mans words - but because you’re unsure how long you’ve been with said men (and the crowd of creatures). Hours? Days? Years? It was as though time didn’t exist in this realm. One moment you were greeted to Hell - and the next, possibly an eternity afterwards, you’re entangled with both men.

They were beautiful, you note. You can make out their appearance even with blurry eyes. Tall, dark hair with piercing dark eyes to match. Lips plump and flushed pink and facial features sculptured by Gods - but these weren’t godly men.

You cough when Seokjin releases himself from your lips. You gag, air finally reaching your throat.

“Once a prideful Queen, now a whore for the Underworld to see.” Namjoon snickers.

Your mind swirls, but you’re remained uncertain just how much time has past until the faces of the creatures are blurry; unrecognizable. Your fear turns to excitement and now you’re more than willing to be used by these men; to be fucked for however long they’ve desired.

When Namjoon ordered you to be for him; you did, nearly crying for him to make you cum.

When Seokjin told you to swallow all of his cum he shot into your mouth, you complied without a second thought.

You gladly complied riding Seokjin all the while Namjoon watched, calling you degrading names; but you enjoyed each second of it.

You’re covered in cum - the question (you stopped wondering) was how long you’ve been on Hell, but you no longer care. Centuries could have past and here you laid complacent in utter bliss.

Seokjin hums, tilting his head. “It’s been 20 earth years. When are we taking her out of hypnosis?”

Namjoon shrugs. He watches the way your body jerks on the crowd, eyes rolling in pleasure - pleasure you’re not receiving, but in your hypnosis state of delirium, you believe you are. “This is her punishment, after all.”

Your punishment indeed, to break you down and make you - a once gluttonous and prideful being, now completely torn down and complacent for the very demons that made you his way.

@juju-227592 @silversparkles11 @iheartsvt @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632

Next

[cherrysoulth]

ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2: ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ʙʀᴇᴇᴢᴇ

💕Pairings: Female reader X Daechwita! King AgustD-1 // Female reader X Daechwita! AgustD-2

📝Summary: When the sound of Daechwita vibrates in the internal battle between the royal family twins. A king and a lover. Lust, Love and Betrayal are on rampage. You need to make a choice- Love or saving the trust. And your choices will have consequences...

✏️Genre: angst and fluff 

✏️Rating: PG-18

📝Word count: 3493

⚠️Warnings: Mentions of sex, violence, cheating/affairs

Hii! Welcome to my work. I'm new in this platform but been posting my writing for four years now in AO3. English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

Big thanks to @moonleeai 💚

<<<𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1 | 𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3>>>

The hot breeze makes its way through again as you fan yourself, and you take a shallow breath, already done with the weather. Although the shade of the trees next to the lake protects you from the sun's merciless rays, the heat is in the air like a furnace. Inside the palace's walls, the rooms are more chill and there's barely anyone outside who knows any better but you find yourself coming here every day, today too, regardless of the temperature, looking at the water's reflection mirage. The same your memories have seemed to turn into.

One of your ladies-in-waiting comes over with a servant to take the task, apologetically, having missed your leave, now that you can roam around almost freely. She's genuine, new, but growing fond of you by the day. The other ladies, full grown women, and some already married, seem to find her endearing, although they scold her into learning the manners of her status. You know the oldest, the prime minister's wife, has to have sent her after you when she went to the sewing room without you.

A little scrunch marks your nose as you give her a naughty expression and she looks at you with her doe eyes. She definitely takes after her brother and you can't avoid smiling at the thought. Far too early to tell but you are sure she'll have lots of suitors when she comes of age. Boys already look at her, taken by her beauty.

Unable to stand the heat any longer, despite the servant's efforts to make wind around you, you stand, startling the youngster slightly. The image of the water had her captivated as much as it did you; just for very different reasons.

You motherly caress your slightly swollen tummy over the white and red hanbok again, uneasy now that you are on your feet. But it's starting to become a common thing as the days go by. This pregnancy feels different, you feel like your belly has started to swell too early. Everything feels odd around it but you can't really place why.

The walk back to the centre of the palace is quiet, as servants surround you to cover your head with an umbrella and fan you from different directions. You enter the rectangular patio leading to the throne room and walk inside as the guards on sight open the door for you.

Yoonsuk raises his eyes from the scripts and stands at your sight, your two boys run to you from their place next to him where they are being taught some of their ancestor's history by their tutor. Although you know they are smart, Yoonguk, who is only three, is probably not learning much in this class. However, Yoonhyung, at the age of six is already able to write in Hangul the simplicity of thoughts he can have at his age. You are proud of them, such good and well-behaved kids deserve it.

"How is the little one behaving?" Yoonsuk wonders, approaching as you do, leaving your ladies at the other side of the open door, as they to the kong. "Ladies, you may retire, thank you. Kim Namjoon-nim, you shall continue the lessons in the library. The Queen and I have matters to attend." he orders as you stand from hugging your sons and the tutor politely bows to the both of you before leaving with the two beautiful boys. The guards close the door and you hear the metallic sound of their spears as they get in front of it.

The King hugs you from behind, breathing on your neck. "I've been sweating a little bit, dear husband. You may not wish to do that," you warn him, caressing his hands over your stomach.

"Nonsense," he says, kissing at the crook of your neck, leaving a soft bite that makes you turn around. "Guards! Make sure we are not disturbed!" he orders before pushing you by the same shoulder down; a nonverbal order you know way too well now. He seems to get off on the fact that you do it in this room, somehow. You reach into his pants to free his shaft, stroking him when it springs out. "I don't fancy you doing that now, get on your back," he says, grabbing your wrist and not letting it go as he gets on his knees, kissing you as you obey.

His hand sneaks under the hem of your skirt until he places it over your stomach, able to see the little swelling on your belly. He caresses the area that he can only watch with pride. "This is the last time I'll ask you to do this here. It has been fun but I owe you the comfort of our bed now that you carry for me again," he says as he lowers the fabric creating a cushioned form covering your stomach before his thumb circles on your bud. "You've been so obedient these last couple of months … Being my beloved wife, my queen… my lover… my concubine… So obedient, yes." The rubbing is the only one to blame for the way you start to get wet since the words only imply his ratification of his ownership over you. "My love," he whispers as he leans over, fingers working into sliding slowly into your depths.

You remembered that was exactly how you conceived the new crown prince or princess. Just like this, he leaned with his body over yours pulling out his fingers and pushing himself slowly in, as he had the habit of. It was never a warranty of him being soft or gentle, just that he didn't want to hurt you.

When he slid in, you wrapped your legs around his waist raising your hips as he thrust in you carefully, you felt his weight and warmth. That time he leaned over your body completely, now he’s careful and uses his elbows to make sure he doesn’t crush you. He feels good inside of you and although you had been stepping away from him emotionally before your affair was broken, now you feel even more conflicted than before.

He ignored you for the length of seven weeks, or mostly so since he would still sit down to eat with you. The bedroom was your prison, feeling the coldness of the bedsheets as he wouldn’t even step foot inside the four walls.

He spoke to you in short sentences and didn’t share any information with you as he used to. You felt for the first time, despite how he had been so sexually inactive months before, how it must have felt to be in an arranged marriage in which your husband didn’t want you. Missing the comfort of Yoongi’s words and love, drove you insane. You had never felt so lonely, even with the company of your ladies.

After that period, when the doctor corroborated that there was no pregnancy since you had bled twice. He had shooed your ladies out of the room, he had ripped your clothes and fed with your body his lust.

He made you moan and cry in all the ways he had learnt to love you for the previous seven years. All, while muttering all the changes that would be made in your lives to sort whatever had been breaking your marriage in the first place. Followed by a death threat on any chance you could take to have a lover again, right after he had spurted his seed inside of you, with the first lights of the sun turning the sky purple.

Since then, and without chances to know if Yoongi was alright or even breathing, you adapted and assumed your destiny. Yoonsuk is right, you are the perfect wife, even if you miss Yoongi. Even on the nights, you don’t share a bed with your husband, you cry in silence for the sorrow of losing him.

“Your Majesty!” shouts one of the servants at the other side of the door when Yoonsuk tries to angle better and starts hitting your sweet spot, making you moan against his collarbone, at the same time eliciting a grunt from him.

“How do you dare to disturb me!” growls Yoonsuk, before rising on his thighs and putting your knees against his chest, closing your legs and angling in a way that makes you have to muffle your sounds with your sleeve.

“Your Majesty, it’s important!” says the servant with a cracked voice.

“Speak!” Yoonsuk growls as you get closer to your orgasm. He forgets your knees raising you by the hips, still thrusting, raising your lower back from the floor.

“Your Majesty. There’s a group of bandits making their way down to the capital… But… But they-” the servant doubts to speak.

“They- what?” he growls once more giving the last thrust that sends you over the edge with the muffled sound of a scream against his palm.

“They are raising a rebellion, Your Majesty…” the man says and you can hear the tremble of his voice through the sense of your own body shattering, making it stop suddenly.

You feel Yoonsuk start to soften while he clenches his jaw, eyes locked on the door. He lets you down carefully and arranges your skirt before putting his wet member back inside his slacks. He stands and helps you up gently before holding you in a hug, kissing your forehead and you surround his well-formed abdomen with your arms.

"Tell the councillors to come here. We'll discuss this," orders Yoonsuk. "Take a seat with me, my queen," he offers, pointing with his hand to his throne where there's another one slightly lower for you.

You walk your way to it while correcting your hanbok, and as you sit down you feel your own drip staining the inner layer of it. Which makes you shift in your seat a second enough for Yoonsuk to guess why and smirk at you as he sits too.

“I’m not done-” he says facing the other extreme of the room but side eyeing you.

“I know. After this, in my room?” you question, tilting your head his way, but then he tilts his to look at you.

“My room. Tonight,” he says and you suddenly feel a weight lift from your chest, although you hadn’t realised it was there at all.

Being truthful to yourself and stopping to excuse his behaviour, he’s been truly using you when it comes to that matter. He has been taking you anywhere, any time, for the last three months, like a haunt does a bitch and you have let him. Yoonsuk is a generous lover and sleeping with him isn't a sacrifice, but the humiliation of being treated like that has probably been something you’ve taken for the sake of repaying for his damaged pride. Maybe because you know the consequences of your transgressions, your betrayal, should have ended with your two sons being motherless. Instead, your husband whom everyone, including you, thought crazy; gave you a second chance and has used your body to show you where you belong; at his side, like it always was. You feel like even if your inner self has wanted to tell him otherwise at the beginning, your acceptance has made things easier for everyone.

Those two sentences, what he’s said right before taking you on the floor of the room that represents his power, means he’s finally moved past your punishment and you two are one again. The image of Yoongi looking at you with his smile hits you for a moment and you have to push him away once more, not without your feelings betraying you in the form of a tear falling over your left cheek.

“Does that make you happy?” wonders Yoonsuk, tilting his head to look at you again as the guards open the door and you dry off the tear.

“Thank you,” you whisper and you feel the bile rise in your throat, from your lie. You don’t feel thankful, that's not it. Internally, you still wish you could get out and find your way back to Yoongi but there’s simply nothing you can do to change your circumstances. You see he’s raised his eyebrows in surprise and presents you a gummy smile, a second after, when you look at him from your position. Something in his smile makes your stomach bubble and you feel the butterflies of the love you thought lost.

Maybe you should really, truly, accept that this is your life now. That you can still love the man you used to, even if he’s a monster. What else is there for you to do?

When the ministers and counsellors take their places, some look at you, though just a second. You know it's a second guess to having seen you as they entered, probably surprised.

Your affair was shut down to anyone who had knowledge of what was going on that night. The fear of the king is bigger than their need to gossip. But the lack of your presence in the throne chambers and the lack of either of you visiting your sleeping ones soon raised discomfort.

What in the past was looked forward to; the king losing interest in you (in order to gain favour through their daughters becoming the king's concubines), was now feared.

Taehyung, the prime minister and long-time friend, had openly asked his wife about the matter. She dared then to translate the discomfort everyone who was highborn had with the events, but you were unable to answer. Feeling shame for the first time.

However, the king waited, not taking anyone publicly to his bed. The idea he could mortified you so much, that you dared to speak it out loud during one dinner, where you ate alone.

Aware of your appetite's lack of appearance while the matter rounded your head, the king spoke: "Is that all you are going to eat?" his eyes were on you like daggers. Four weeks into his distancing could mean this was the first sign of you carrying what he was sure would be his brother’s child, not his. Although he had slept with you too. "Not feeling your appetite I see," he mentioned taking a sip of his drink, "feeling nauseous maybe?" The vile raised in his throat as much as it did in yours.

"I have things on my mind. That is all," you said, not daring to keep your eyes on him longer than to acknowledge what he was starting at.

"And what is that then?" he questioned, placing the cup over the table with a clang. If he thought you were missing or even thinking about Yoongi his blood would boil immediately.

You dared to stare at him longer, after watching the motion and he raised an eyebrow, "what do you care?" you hissed. The solitude was finally weighing on you and your well-hidden resentment towards your husband decided to show.

"What do I care?" he chuckled humourlessly. "What about my wife, the mother of my children, who I have loved dearly, yet decided to betray me but still has her head? What about that?" he pointed, slamming his palm over the table, standing.

"How fair is that when you can go around court sleeping, unpunished, with everyone's daughters or wives?" you muttered, vile in your words. "And I, just the wife, have to look away."

His eyes were bulged and his lips parted too, then his face composed as he gripped one edge of the table. His eyes showed lust. "Is that jealousy?" he asked with what seemed like a purr, you got flustered. "So it is true. You did it because..." his eyes bulged again, "you thought I was sleeping with another," he instinctively surrounded the table when you looked away. There was a partial truth to it, just as you confesed the night you got caught, though you don't know if it was just what gave you the courage. Would you have done that if you never suspected him? Or was it truly because he was making you grow distant in the heart through his actions? Or both? He kneeled next to you and grabbed your chin for you to look at him. "As I already told you, I never did. Not once." His face was the one of the man you bowed to spend your eternity with, sincere but also hurt, staring at you, the woman he loved and a tear rolled down to soon be followed.

His lips were on yours, forgiving, loving, intense, and soon your back was against the cushions you were sitting in. He was feeling you against his body differently, unguided by lust but tenderness, yet you could feel him hard against your thigh.

Soon the kiss escalated and he was breathlessly trying to remove his clothes and yours, unorganised, a knot from you, then his, a naked shoulder, a raised layer of your skirt, then he seemed to look at the moon through the window and think, stopping abruptly. He then separated from you and put everything in your clothes back into place, doing the same with his before going back to his seat to eat in silence. Leaving you completely stunned. You didn't, however, dare to ask why and somewhere between hurt and horny, you stood to leave the room. He didn't say a thing or looked at you.

He kept even more distance after that and with that prospect, you were sure he would never take you back as his wife. That you had even given him the idea of taking concubines to hurt you, which froze any hopes you had to have at least some sort of comfort at his side.

Then a second period came and the doctor discreetly notified you and him that would ensure there wasn’t a baby to be expected. Yoonsuk nodded and dismissed him.

He then grabbed your head softly and planted a kiss on your forehead, "Thank the goods," he whispered and then walked out of the room. In the days following, you caught him staring at you constantly when you shared the same rooms or came across at the patios. So did the whole court, like the prime minister confided in his wife.

After that week, in the afternoon, before the sunset, your husband, the king, walked his way to your rooms with his servants at his talons. With everyone at court that day seeing it. Then you got to know and understand the truth.

He placed a hand over your belly in his bliss and pronounced, "I'm sure my seeds will flourish soon," with a smile as he looked at the moon again, almost full, and you could only stare at him. "It has worked twice," he added, kissing your forehead. Your eyes bulged as he looked at you from above. "If I had slept with you the other day, a month ago… I wouldn't have trusted anything growing in you," he muttered, sincerely.

Your new baby was indeed conceived in that moment although you hoped it didn’t. Not after the things he had muttered between growls.

"I'll kill any man who dares be less than two feet away from you."

The voices around you seem to quite abruptly and your husband's hand on your arm sends you back to reality. You realise everyone is looking at you, and meet his eyes.

"Are you feeling unwell?" he asks, worried in his tone.

"Uh? Oh, no, no, I'm all right. What were you asking?" you respond, having overheard the punishment for following the bandits should be thirty whips at the centre of the traitor's town, to make an example.

"I asked if you needed anything?" He keeps his tone low, only for you to hear and the others keep their respectful silence. "The prime minister eloquently pointed out that you look affected by the heat. Do you need something to drink or eat?"

"Just a fan and some water." he gestured for one of the servants waiting against one of the columns to approach and gave the order.

"Let's continue."

"If I may," asked Chancellor Jung Hoseok. The King nodded for him to speak. "I know maybe now won't be the best time but reducing the taxes and making things a little less tight has always worked to keep the people content and loyal… Maybe we can prom-"

"Your Majesty," interrupted the chancellor's words as Captain Kim Seokjin rushed into the room and bowed humbly.

"What is it, Seokjin-ssi?" Yoonsuk speaks with more patience than he shows to any of the others.

"I have news of who is leading the rebellion." You can automatically tell Seokjin doesn't want to say it, that it's going to anger the king.

"Go on."

"It's the traitor, Min Yoongi, Your Majesty," Seokjin says, looking at the floor instead of the monarch, probably as scared as anyone else.

The whole room gasps, including you, and you can feel the eyes of your sovereign on you.

Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I would really appreciate if you let me know if you liked it, either with a kudo or a comment. It encourages me to keep writing!

[star-my]

born as a tiger

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Mad King) x OFC (Lee Hoyeon)

Rating: T | WC: 5.8k | Ao3 | My Fics Masterlist | Masterlist |

AU: Daechwita AU, Arranged Marriage AU, Historical AU, Royal AU

CW: implied unhealthy/abusive parental relationship, OFC has Trust Issues & implied C-PTSD, Yoongi & Yoonji star in this fic, Namjoon cameo, Jackson Wang shows up (does not throw a party but is cause for one), Jackson goes by Gayi, empty threats of violence but as a love language, sword fighting but friendly, I think that's it, lmk if I should update this

Summary:

Lee Hoyeon trembled at all the thoughts flashing through her head as her carriage pulled up in front of the infamous Changdeokgung palace. Peering out through the window, she was unsettled to see how clean the stone courtyard was, the cool taupe a far cry from the dripping red she’d half-expected after tormenting herself with thoughts of her fiance’s atrocities. All the gossip she’d heard from the maids and guards back home in Dongjak Kingdom was now front and centre in her mind.  The carriage slowed to a gentle stop and the door opened, courtesy of the footman. Hoyeon took his hand, hoping hers wasn’t trembling too noticeably, and took her first step on the grounds she would be empress of in three weeks.

A/N: - this idea lay dormant for a year and a half and suddenly resurrected in the middle of reading a webtoon at 10 pm so here I am answering the author’s call of nature 😭 (*spongebob voice* fOuR mOnThS lAtEr: bless the ATZ hyperfixation for me wanting to get something out of my brain to make more room for the ot8 brainrot and this WIP was the sacrifice it chose)

I did some research for this fic, such as the Changdeokgung palace truly existing (of which I used in my moodboard), the chrysanthemum tea vs plum tea debate, and Yoongi’s sword apparently being called a hwando, etc. Any inaccuracies are mine and I apologize. Please feel free to point them out :)

There was supposed to be some smut but the muses refused. I may add it in the future or post it in a second chapter.

Thanks to the lovely @lunarelles for betaing! Any remaining mistakes are my own <3 Enjoy! 

D-22

Emperor Min Yoongi of the Dalseogu Empire was a force to be reckoned with. His subjects trembled in fear when he was whispered about–even his fellow rulers kept a wide berth around him when they met at diplomatic events. He’s a monster, they said. His reign was written with the blood of his subjects. He was nicknamed the Mad King for a reason–not that anyone would say his unofficial title to his face.

The day after the seventh emperor of the Dalseogu empire was crowned, he killed half of his court. Only a select few officials remained unscathed from the Mad King’s bloodbath. Even the families of the officials he killed were not all exempt – wives, concubines, and children being wiped out by his sword. The Dowager Empress and the Second, Third, and Fourth Prince had all died that day, making it the second most bloody day the Empire had seen since its inception.

Lee Hoyeon trembled at all the thoughts flashing through her head as her carriage pulled up in front of the infamous Changdeokgung palace. Peering out through the window, she was unsettled to see how clean the stone courtyard was, the cool taupe a far cry from the dripping red she’d half-expected after tormenting herself with thoughts of her fiance’s atrocities.

All the gossip she’d heard from the maids and guards back home in Dongjak Kingdom was now front and centre in her mind. 

The carriage slowed to a gentle stop and the door opened, courtesy of the footman. Hoyeon took his hand, hoping hers wasn’t trembling too noticeably, and took her first step on the grounds she would be empress of in three weeks. 

A contingency of guards marched out from the front gates of Changdeokgung, a swish of brightly-coloured silk in their midst. Bowing to Hoyeon, they stepped aside, revealing the silk as the crown princess, the Mad King’s twin sister, Min Yoonji.

“I’m glad you made it here safely, Princess Hoyeon,” greeted Crown Princess Yoonji familiarly, as if this was their hundredth meeting and not their first. “The emperor was out often the past couple weeks ensuring the bandits would not attack the carriages. I imagine you’re rather thirsty and tired. Would you like some tea?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you, Crown Princess.”

“Please, call me unnie, we are to be sisters in a few weeks.”

“As you wish, Crown Princess.” Hoyeon followed the princess to the quarters prepared for her stay before she wed the emperor. 

This whole situation was most bizarre. The crown princess had been rumoured to be a fierce warrior–much like her brother, the maids had gasped as Hoyeon eavesdropped. Yet here she was, dressed in silks like any other respectable lady of the court and pouring the fragrant tea with a natural elegance Hoyeon had practiced for days to attain.

“So, are you excited for the wedding?” asked Yoonji, refilling their cups with the most delicious blend of tea Hoyeon had ever drunk.

Hoyeon nibbled on her lip, debating how much would be prudent to tell the crown princess. She was lovely and welcoming, but she was also the emperor’s sister. How was she supposed to say she was scared out of her wits and had been for the past several days, since her father had announced her engagement to the Mad King at a state dinner with no warning whatsoever. That she’d tried to learn what she could about her new empire and husband-to-be, but all she had gleaned was that she would be lucky to survive six months as the empress? What could she say, I almost looked forward to this when my father first announced this, so that I had a chance to finally be free from his tyranny, but now I wish I was back with the devil I know?

Deciding the last train of thought had the most truth she could pluck from and spin into a plausible half-truth, she replied, “I was surprised when my father mentioned the alliance to me, but I am pleased to be able to support my kingdom in this way. I will do my best to be a good empress to Dalseogu. I noticed the absolutely beautiful scenery as I made my way here, and it is a lovely empire.” Just ruled by not-so-lovely people, she thought, then ignored the stab of guilt at the mental insult to Yoonji, who’d been rather good so far at calming her nerves.

Yoonji smiled at the compliment to her empire. “I’m so glad you think so! I know it can be a bit…sparse, to some, but I think there’s a wild beauty to the land.”

One of her maids stepped forward to whisper in her ear. Yoonji looked at Hoyeon apologetically. 

“Duty calls, I’m afraid. I’ll leave you to rest now. I know my brother was looking forward to greeting you, but something came up that he couldn’t ignore. He’d like you to join him for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

“Of course, I will be there. Thank you, Crown Princess…unnie.”

Yoonji’s glare softened at the casual honorific. “Lovely! Rest well, Princess Hoyeon.”

The crown princess and her entourage left, leaving only Hoyeon and her maid, Jina. 

“That seemed to go well, Miss,” offered Jina as she began to unpack and brush out Hoyeon’s nightclothes.

Hoyeon groaned, collapsing onto her bed with her hand flung over her eyes. “Appearances can be deceiving, Jina. I can’t afford to trust anyone here, no matter how nice they are–especially the emperor’s sister!”

“I hope she can be a true friend to you here, Miss.”

“Thank you, Jina.”

D-21

“It’s a pleasure to serve you, Princess Hoyeon,” bowed the maid provided by the palace, named Sora. 

“Thank you. I’m sure Jina will appreciate your help in navigating the palace until she becomes accustomed to our new accommodations.”

“I’ll do my best, Princess.”

Sora and Jina chattered away, becoming fast friends, as Hoyeon chewed anxiously on her thumbnail in the corner. 

She learned that Sora had a younger sister, Soha, whom she was very proud of for having recently become a full-fledged palace maid. The head maid was tough but caring once a maid proved herself, and Sora was sure Jina would win her over in no time. There were a couple guards who were insufferable flirts, but they were still respectful. Jina’s best course of action would be to ignore any flirtations and not respond to the provocations. 

Hoyeon finally jumped up from her seat, startling the maids from their conversation. “What time should I be prepared to go for tea with the emperor?”

“If we start now, you should arrive just after the emperor’s meeting finishes, Princess,” replied Sora. 

The maids did their best to dress Hoyeon up in her favourite hanbok, pinning her hair with a gold hairpin the emperor had gifted her via her father, and using cosmetics to accentuate her features.

“You’re a little pale,” commented Jina as she patted some pink onto Hoyeon’s cheeks. 

“Do you blame me?” she retorted. “Sora, is there anything I need to be aware of when I greet the emperor?”

Sora paused from folding a discarded robe. “I don’t think so. Emperor Min doesn’t insist on many formalities if it’s not a formal event. I believe Soha will be serving the tea, so if you need anything, you can ask her to find me, Princess.”

“Thank you, Sora.”

Jina and Sora fell in behind her, Sora quietly directing her through the maze of corridors to the room the emperor was waiting in for her.

She smiled at the guards outside the doors. “Is the emperor available?”

“Unnie!”

Hoyeon turned to see a girl bearing a tea tray. She bowed to her before turning to Sora.

“Unnie, the emperor is still occupied.”

“Do you think he will be long?”

“I don’t think you will wait long,” reported the girl, who Hoyeon assumed was Soha. “Princess,” she bowed again before entering the room.

A loud voice escaped the open door, followed by the distinctive sound of a slap.

A minute later she ran out, tears flowing down her face as she passed Hoyeon and her maids.

Hoyeon stared in trepidation at the girl. What had happened to make the emperor slap her? She’d barely had time to do anything. This didn’t bode well for her.

“Show Princess Lee in,” called a voice. The guards opened the door.

Hoyeon took a deep breath and stepped forward, keeping her eyes on the next step she was taking.

She paused when she reached a low tea table, droplets of tea scattered across its surface. She could see the emperor’s robes across from her and a tea set shattered on the floor to her right.

So that was why Soha had run out. Why was it broken?

“Your Majesty,” she bowed, hoping it was low enough.

“Your Highness,” he greeted in response. “You may stand.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Her eyes flicked up to his face quickly, then back down to hide her surprise.

He had a scar across his right eye, from his eyebrow to his cheek. She’d thought the rumours were just that–rumours. Who had ever heard of a king with a scar?

She supposed with a reputation like his, he didn’t have to worry about naysayers attempting to depose him.

She’d been so surprised at the scar and hadn’t wanted to be caught staring that she barely remembered his other features.

She chanced another glance and found him staring at her.

“You can look at me, Princess Hoyeon.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She peeked up under her lashes.

Was it possible for a scar to heighten his appeal? He had shockingly blond hair pulled back into the typical sangtu, thick brows, a nose that she couldn’t believe the first adjective she thought of was ‘cute’, and pouty lips. Overall, he was rather attractive. 

The benefit to marrying a young emperor was that he was surprisingly handsome, but it also meant he was less likely to die soon. In all honesty, Hoyeon expected him to outlive her.  

She hadn’t met his eyes–his look had been far too calculating. If there was one thing she knew about court politics, it was to never show your fear when someone was around. 

“You arrived much quicker than I expected, Princess Hoyeon. I hope your travels were smooth.”

“Yes, thank you. We had no trouble at all. My father said it was better to arrive sooner lest we be waylaid and made late.” He was just thrilled he could finally get some use out of his useless only child.

“Crown Princess Yoonji said that you were an interesting companion at her tea yesterday.”

I knew she’d tell him about me.

“As was she, Your Majesty. I look forward to getting to know her–and you–better.”

“Good,” said the emperor, clearly pleased. “The crown princess is pleased to be able to help you become accustomed to the Dalseogu Empire. I will be busy with all the things that must be finished before the wedding, so I imagine you will be seeing her often.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, Your Majesty. May I ask you a question?” Better to find out now how lenient he will be towards my impertinence.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you approach the Dongjak kingdom for an alliance?” Why me?

“It is advantageous for both our lands to have the trade deals this alliance will forge. Dongjak and Dalseogu have not always been at peace, so this was a good way to cement it.”

Slightly surprised that the emperor had actually given her an answer, she nodded. She hadn’t had the slightest shred of hope that he would give her some secretly romantic explanation, such as he’d seen her at some event and been so taken by her that he had to have her. All she was good for was strengthening her kingdom’s ties as one of its most important representatives. 

The guards opened the door and let in Sora, carrying the replacement tea set.

She poured the tea quietly and served their cups to them, then retreated to the side, assuming an at-ease position.

“Please sit,” directed the emperor, settling himself on his cushion. Hoyeon followed his example, making herself as comfortable as she could sitting opposite an unknown volatile man no one could rebuke.

The tea was delicious, stronger than what she was used to back in Dongjak, but she found its tart flavour pleasant. 

“This is exquisite tea, Your Majesty.”

He inclined his head. “It is plum tea. I believe Dongjak more commonly uses the chrysanthemum flowers for their tea.”

“You are correct, Your Majesty.”

Tea with the emperor went fairly well, although Hoyeon caught his considering gaze upon her several times. It unnerved her, wondering why he was taking so much interest in his political bride. 

She didn’t like it.

D-20

Hoyeon giggled, finally somewhat relaxed around the crown princess as the older girl spilled stories about her maids’ and guards’ dramatic dynamics and relationships. 

“Don’t tell the head maid I told you this,” Yoonji leaned forward, finger to her lips. 

Hoyeon’s eyes widened as she bit her lower lip, nodding quickly in agreement. She knew that the maids were one of the biggest and best ally teams she could have on her side in the palace, and she wouldn’t dare do anything to harm her chances of gaining connections.

“So, what do you think of my brother, after your tea with him yesterday?” Yoonji relaxed onto her cushion, pouring herself another cup of what Hoyeon wasn’t completely convinced was just plum tea. 

Her teeth dug further into her lip as she considered how to answer. The siblings appeared fairly close for being possible throne rivals–especially considering that Yoonji had survived the Mad King’s bloody beginning–and she couldn’t speak freely. The princess was a skilled politician, however, and would surely catch on if she lied and began praising the man.

“I find His Majesty…intimidating,” she said slowly, gauging how Yoonji took that ambivalent opening.

Yoonji nodded, motioning to continue with her finger. “He certainly knows how to make himself understood.”

Understatement of the dynasty, thought Hoyeon. 

“He’s…rather good looking. I was surprised,” she mused. Realising Yoonji had raised her eyebrow at her, she went on hastily. “Just that I hadn’t heard anyone speak about that when they discussed the emperor! I had very little information on His Majesty to go off of. I suppose the men that met the emperor were more focused on his character than his countenance,” she snorted, a little self-deprecatingly, glancing up to see if Yoonji would take the bait and either consider her a little simple and romantically-minded or expound upon her open-ended question to know more about her fiance’s personality. 

“Well, I suppose I agree that my brother is rather good-looking,” Yoonji mused, sipping her tea. “I’ve been told often that we appear quite similar.”

“Indeed, that was one of the first things I noticed. You’re both attractive and there’s certainly a family resemblance between you two. By the way, is there anyone you think is good-looking, unnie?” she asked curiously, hoping she wasn’t overstepping.

Yoonji shook her head. “There are several tolerably handsome ministers and princes around, but their personalit-”

A knock sounded at the door to the crown princess’s tea room. Yoonji nodded at Hoyeon in apology, excusing herself to speak quietly with the maid waiting at the door, bringing a message from the emperor. 

Yoonji’s brow furrowed slightly, then smoothed as she turned back to Hoyeon. “The emperor has requested an audience with me, and he wishes to see you after my visit. Would you like to come with me now?”

Hoyeon nodded, setting her tea down and getting to her feet. She still wasn’t entirely sure she had the palace layout memorised, and Jina was currently being interviewed by the head maid, leaving Hoyeon friendless and ally-less if Yoonji also left her behind. 

“I’d be honoured to join you, Your Highness.”

The two young women headed as briskly as nobles could to the emperor’s throne room, where he remained after a meeting with his ministers earlier. 

The guards saw the duo’s approach and opened the tall doors in anticipation of Yoonji’s entrance. Hoyeon chose to remain outside, though the doors remained open, giving the siblings privacy and taking advantage of the moment to prepare her nerves to see her fiance again. She’d relaxed in Yoonji’s quiet company, but reverted to her stiff princess behaviour on their walk here. 

Shaking her head at her rapid closeness with the princess, she straightened her skirts anxiously. For all she knew, the siblings were in there right now discussing her pathetic surface-level attraction to the Mad King and how quickly she’d come to confide in the princess.

Shifting on her feet, she cursed her father once again for removing anyone who’d appeared close to her, making her a prime target for spilling her innermost thoughts when she met someone who appeared to listen. Reminding herself it had only been two days and Yoonji had not yet proved if it was safe to trust her, Hoyeon twisted the jade ring on her finger as she waited.

A loud cry came from Yoonji, giving her deja vu. With an inner sigh, she inched forward, straining her ear to make out what the siblings were arguing about. 

Silently, she watched Yoonji, who appeared unafraid to talk back to the emperor. Was it because she was his sister? He wouldn’t retaliate? Something else? She needed to know everything she could.

“I’m getting married?!” cried Yoonji, clearly. “In two weeks?! Without you telling me first?!”

Hoyeon froze. Her newest ally and possible future friend would be leaving the palace? Was it because they were becoming close? Had Yoonji done something warranting being sent away? No, it was probably just another business transaction, like her marriage was to be. 

Calming her anxious thoughts, Hoyeon shuffled a little closer, wondering who the groom was.

“No, you are leaving Dalseogu in two weeks. You are getting married in a week to Emperor Wang Gayi.”

“You arranged a marriage for me? With the Wang Emperor?!”

“Yes, I did, and you will marry him. That’s an emperor’s order, Min Yoonji.”

“You gave me no choice? I’m so mad that you interfered with my relationships,” Yoonji said flatly, turning and exiting via the hall behind the throne area. 

“Your groom will be here by tomorrow morning,” the emperor informed her, barely raising his voice. Facing forward once again, he motioned Hoyeon to approach him. 

“Good afternoon, Princess.”

She bowed. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

“Good afternoon, Your Highness. Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you. I just came from having some with the crown princess. I suppose she will be busy now with her wedding preparations, so I am grateful that I could have these past few days to get to know my sister-in-law.”

“I apologize if you feel that my sister’s wedding takes precedence over ours,” the emperor said, surprising Hoyeon. “I wished her to wed soon and thought that now would be best since most of the preparations for ours are already complete and can transfer to theirs. Emperor Wang has to return to Kowloon soon and I wanted him to take Yoonji with him.”

“I am not slighted at all, Your Majesty. I wish the royal couple all happiness and longevity. May I ask why you requested to see me after the crown princess, Your Majesty?”

He stretched languidly, rising to his feet and sauntering down the steps to his throne. “Am I not allowed to wish to see my fiancee?” he asked, approaching Hoyeon. 

“Y-you are, Your Majesty.” Biting her lip, she forced herself to remain standing tall and not move back.

He paused two arm lengths away from her. “I would like to see you every day before our wedding, if you are available.”

“I believe I will be, if that is what you wish.”

He tilted his head, scanning her head to toe. She lowered her gaze to his feet, hoping she hadn’t mussed her clothing since Jina left her at Yoonji’s tea room. 

“You seem rather nervous.”

Who wouldn’t be, being the focus of one of the continent’s most dangerous men?! Hoyeon shrieked internally. Well, it appeared the emperor was more perceptive than her father, so lying was off the table. “I suppose I am. We have only met once, and I am unchaperoned. I do not wish to cause any damage to either of your kingdoms if there were negative repercussions from this event, Your Majesty.”

He hummed, taking a step back so that his black-clad feet were no longer in her vision. “The doors are open and there are plenty of guards and other staff around, Princess. But, if it would make you feel better–Chief Advisor Kim!”

Barely repressing the flinch at his sudden shout, Hoyeon turned to see who the emperor had just summoned. A tall, handsome man rushed in, arms full of scrolls and books, a pair of spectacles sliding down his nose. He pushed them up, a scroll fluttering from its precarious spot under his elbow. 

Hoyeon stooped without thinking, catching the runaway parchment and handing it back to the man, who flashed a thankful smile at her, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Princess Hoyeon, this is my most trusted advisor, Kim Namjoon. He will be our chaperone,” the emperor said shortly. 

“I’m honoured to meet you, Princess. Congratulations on the wedding.”

“Thank you,” she nodded at him and turned back to her fiance, not wanting to spend his patience with her over another man. Still, his behaviour was unlike anything she was used to. The Mad King was her enigma, and she only hoped it wouldn’t take too long to figure him out. 

D-17

The sound of metal hitting metal drew Hoyeon’s attention from the flowery bushes she was admiring, turning towards the walled courtyard ahead of her.

Jina stopped by her side, both somewhat behind one of the pillars by the entrance, watching the two men in front of them slash at each other, silver swords glinting in the sunlight.

The emperor’s distinctive blond hair gave his identity away, and Hoyeon watched his graceful power with an open mouth, seeing first-hand her fiance’s prowess with a blade.

The other man was about the same height, with short brown hair and a slimmer sword than Yoongi’s. He held it with a careless ease that belied years of training, evenly matched with his opponent. 

Their blades clashed, sun rays reflecting off their entwined blades and blinding Hoyeon. She sneezed unexpectedly, interrupting the men’s moment. They bowed to each other, sheathing their blades and walking in different directions–Yoongi towards her and the other man towards Yoonji, whom Hoyeon just noticed was standing at the other side. 

Hoyeon bowed, greeting the emperor. He nodded back at her, taking the damp cloth his attendant held out to him and wiping his face and neck down. The neckline of his black robe gaped a little, affording Hoyeon a glimpse of smooth pale skin and subtly defined musculature. She blushed red, glancing away quickly to watch Yoonji, who had attained her own sword. 

The emperor followed her gaze, leaning his hand carelessly on his hwando pommel. “That’s Emperor Wang,” he confirmed her suspicion carelessly. “Would you like to make a bet with me?”

“A bet, Your Majesty?” Hoyeon flicked her gaze to him in confusion.

He nodded towards the couple. “On who will win their spar, Yoonji or Gayi.”

“They will spar?” Crown princess versus emperor, fiancee versus fiance?

The two moved towards the now-open sparring area in the middle of the yard, raising their blades to the opening position. 

“They have both trained for years. I’m curious myself about the outcome. So, what do you say, Princess?” The emperor leaned towards her, breath brushing her cheek. “Will you bet with me?”

“Very well, Your Majesty. What are your terms?”

He leaned back, studying her in mild surprise. “Hm…you must answer three questions I ask of you fully and truthfully, when I wish.”

That’s all? Like I could lie to you anyways. “Alright. I will hold the same terms, for the sake of fairness. I bet that the emperor will win.”

Hoyeon felt the weight of his gaze on her. “Not my sister?”

She shook her head. “I saw some of the emperor’s prowess when you two were fighting. I have not seen the princess fight, and the emperor surely has more experience, being on the battlefield.”

“But he will be tired since we were fighting before this,” Yoongi pointed out. “And I have fought with the princess. So, our bet. We each bet three complete, truthful answers about any topic we are asked about by the other if they win–you if Emperor Gayi wins, myself if Crown Princess Yoonji wins.”

“I agree to your terms.” Hoyeon shook the emperor’s hand, feeling his long fingers and calloused palms against her bare skin for the first time. He was warmer than she had expected; somehow she’d anticipated a cold-blooded, rigid man. 

He let go of her hand and she swiftly tucked her hands into her sleeves, feeling the ghost of his palm against hers. Focusing on the duo facing off in front of her, she did her best to ignore the warm presence brushing against her side. 

Yoonji was better than Hoyeon had expected, never having seen a female warrior before. Some of her moves looked similar to the emperor’s, but some were distinctively hers. She seemed to be having fun, however, a large gummy smile forming on her face as she parried the emperor’s strikes and danced into his space, making it more difficult for him to evade her attacks. 

Her opponent also seemed to be having fun, a smile growing on his face as they sparred. 

Hoyeon was glad the two were getting along, albeit in a more violent way than she was used to. Given what she knew of the crown princess’s personality, she was curious how the couple’s relationship would progress.

“The princess is quite good,” she said without thinking.

The emperor hummed in agreement. “I trained with her often. She is one of my best generals.”

Hoyeon whipped around in surprise. “The crown princess is your general?”

He nodded, dragging his eyes from the fight to her face. 

“Then why–” Hoyeon bit her lip, realizing her curiosity could be taken as insolence.

“Continue,” the emperor prompted her curiously. 

“Then why are you marrying your general off to the Kowloon Empire?” she asked quietly. He still appeared to have heard her, as he replied.

“The emperor and my sister have been in love for a while now. I will be saddened by my best general, advisor, and companion’s absence, but it is beyond time for her to have her happiness.”

Hoyeon blinked. Was the emperor…sentimental? And what was that about the marriage argument the other day?

“But…I understood the princess was against the marriage?”

“Not at all, she was being sarcastic. ‘How dare you marry me to the love of my life? Alas, I am ordered to spend time with the only man who makes me happy.’ Like that.”

“Oh.”

“Are you slandering me behind my back, Your Majesty?” Yoonji approached the two, her fiance behind her, carrying their swords.

“Is it slander if it’s true?” he retorted. “It seems my bride has not yet grown accustomed to your strange sense of humour. Now tell me, who won? I have a bet on the line, here.”

Realizing she’d been too distracted by the emperor to see who won, Hoyeon looked to Yoonji, who had what she now realised was a faux-betrayed look on her face. 

“You had better have bet on me, brother.”

“Of course I did,” he replied smugly. “So, I won the bet?”

Yoonji’s fiance spoke up. “No, your lovely fiancee did. Congratulations, Princess.”

“Damn, I should have bet on Gayi.”

Yoonji smacked her brother’s arm for his comment. “You are lucky I’m leaving the palace, Your Majesty.”

Hoyeon watched the siblings banter with wide eyes. The emperor was so relaxed and unlike his Mad King persona today. Which was the real one?

“It’s okay, Princess,” commiserated Emperor Gayi. “No one understands these two’s strange relationship, either.”

“I can behead you, you know,” threatened Yoongi. 

“You better give me his empire if you do,” Yoonji poked his stomach.

“Not if you keep touching me, I won’t!”

“OR,” interrupted Gayi, “you can not behead me and Yoonji can begin her reign over my empire peacefully as my empress!”

“But then I’d still have to hear you talk about my sister,” pointed out Yoongi. “It would be a lot quieter if your head was removed from your shoulders.”

“Say something!” Gayi looked at Yoonji, who sighed.

“Yoongi, don’t kill my fiance. It wouldn’t be a lot quieter because you’d then have to hear your sister talk about how much she missed her dead fiance instead…and your fiancee wouldn’t like you to kill her new ally, I guess.”

Yoongi looked at the bewildered Hoyeon. “Hm. It’s better to remove two nuisances at once, I suppose. I shall endure this next week for the princess’s sake, I suppose, since she won our bet.”

“How generous, Your Majesty,” Gayi and Yoonji bowed formally after the emperor, who left with an eye roll at their antics. 

Yoonji straightened once he was gone and turned to Hoyeon with a smile. “Do you want me to show you to the archery range?”

D-13

The wedding of the Emperor of Kowloon and the Crown Princess of Dalseogu went off without a hitch, which relieved some of Hoyeon’s worries. It was exactly the same as it would be for her and Yoongi, so she had a chance to mentally prepare. There wasn’t too much that could go wrong, thankfully, so as long as she didn’t faint next week, she should be in the clear.

Spending time with her fiance the past week and a half, as well as with his sister and her fiance, helped relax Hoyeon. He was courteous, surprisingly soft-spoken in private, and less menacing than she had been prepared for. Slowly, she began to wonder if the rumours had been exaggerated, as royal rumours tended to be, and if she might in fact be safe in the Dalseogu empire. 

Then came the day of her wedding, and all Hoyeon’s nerves returned full-force. Yoonji had left for Kowloon with Gayi, unable to stay for the wedding, and only Jina was there as someone she could rely on.

Her father had sent a witness to his only child’s wedding, too concerned over possible attacks to come himself. Hoyeon snorted as she read the letter his delegate had handed to her, dropping the paper to the table carelessly.

So he could send his daughter to live in the empire, but couldn’t come in person to celebrate her nuptials, the entire reason he would be safe visiting? Well, it wasn’t like she’d expected anything from him, but it still pinched in her heart. 

Jina brushed her robes out smoothly, stepping back and giving her a reassuring nod. “It’s time, Your Highness.”

D-Day

The entire ceremony was a blur, Hoyeon too focused on not making a mistake to take in anything else. She had the vague sense that the atmosphere was overcast, but nothing more than that.

The celebration feast was similarly unfocused, for slightly differing reasons. Yoongi, her new husband (what a strange thought), was right beside her at the head table, paying rather unnerving attention to her. 

Small bites were all she could choke down under his scrutiny, though he did his best to keep her dishes full. Hoyeon was a little confused when he kept adding delicious-smelling dishes to her immediate reach. Any other day, she’d be happy to try the new and intriguing dishes, but with the nerves in her stomach and the eyes on her chopsticks, she couldn’t choke down more than a few bites, something she bemoaned.

Toasts and cheers were continually offered by the celebrating ministers and nobles filling the hall, gallons of alcohol flowing freely. 

Hoyeon grabbed her goblet, draining the dregs in a couple gulps, coughing a little at the afterburn. Yoongi’s scrutiny became heavier, his warmth overwhelming her as he leaned even closer to whisper in her ear. “Are you alright, Your Majesty?”

Hoyeon hiccuped. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. Just thirsty.”

His expression told her he didn’t fully believe her, but he leaned back, letting her breathe easily again. She turned away, patting her burning cheeks with the back of her hand. 

It really should be illegal for someone to look that handsome up close. She considered her previous fears that he would behead her within six months and revised it to worry that she’d be overcome by his beauty within six months instead. 

A sudden weight on her hand made her look down from picking up individual grains of rice with her chopsticks.

Yoongi’s hand rested on hers, his thumb caressing her pulse point. Her heart skipped a beat at the simple touch. He didn’t look at her anymore, thankfully, but his hand stayed on hers the rest of the feast.

Her eyes darted between his profile and her chopsticks several times. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being his empress. 

General taglist (open): @bangtanwritershq @kayleefriedchicken @otome-wandering + (@moni-logues you seemed intrigued when we sprinted so I hope this is okay :] )

Divider by @bunnysrph | Moodboard photos from Pinterest/Google, edit is mine :]

[thedoctorsthings]

Power to the king | Seokjin Ch. 1

here is the first, short introductory chapter of Seokjin's story in the power to the king universe. I fear that for the next chapter you will have to wait a while; I'm a camp counselor and almost all of July is taken up by that, so you might have to wait until begin August, i'm sorry.

wc: 1K

warnings: forced marriage, awkward people, one (1) swearword

It’s a hot summer day, but you’re trembling anyways. You’re sitting on your bed, and you’d do anything to never have to move from this position.  Getting up and stepping out that door would mean stepping into his life, into the life of the most feared man in the kingdom. A month ago, the king had decided to remarry. His wife had died two years ago, and he decided it was time. You had been at the wrong place at the wrong moment. Your father was one of the king’s advisors and he had taken you to an event at the castle. The king had let his eye fall on you and made his decision without a second thought. You had been sent a letter saying you were to marry in a month. That was that. The king was a man, and the most powerful one in the kingdom at that. You were a woman and would do as you were told. Your father had barely batted an eye, but your mother was devastated. You were too young to be taken away from her to a place where she could not protect you. At night, when you closed your eyes, you could still hear her cries after she had gotten the news.

At first you had been confused. Why did the king have to remarry? He had two healthy heirs; he didn’t need another child. However, once you arrived at the castle hours before your wedding, a friendly guard named Namjoon explained it to you. The king of the neighboring kingdom had just produced a daughter, and rumour went around that the queen would no longer be able to conceive. It had taken the royal couple years to have this one daughter. The king hoped to produce another son soon so he could marry him off to the neighboring queen to be. This way his son would inherit the crown.

Now you were sitting frozen in the room where they had helped you get into your wedding dress. The dress was beautiful. The atmosphere at this castle was horrible. Every servant seemed docile and scared at all times. The guard that led you to this room seemed to be filled with dread and compassion for you. The servants that helped you get dressed behaved the same way. They were overly nice and careful with you. When they left, one of them said she would pray for you with something that looked like tears in her eyes.

There was a knock at your door. “Come in”, you said. The door opened slowly, and a beautiful head appeared, careful not to make too much noise. She smiled at you and then entered the room gracefully. You knew who this was, everyone did. The queen to be, and the crown prince’s wife was known far beyond the borders of this kingdom for her grace and beauty. “Your highness”, you hastily stood up and took a clumsy bow. “Oh, leave that. In less than an hour you will be married to the king, making you higher in rank than me”. The young woman, who already exuded the aura of a queen, took your hand in hers. It was cold. “I wanted to come here to wish you luck, but more importantly to tell you that you will always have an ally within these walls”. All you could do was nod with a watery smile. If you had spoken surely your voice would have trembled.

You were married. It was your wedding day and you had never felt worse in your life. The whole ceremony had gone by in a haze. You barely remembered any of it, except for the exchange of family swords. The king had taken yours from your hands to roughly and it cut your hand. Something told you that this was an omen for the rest of this marriage. You also remembered the look in the king’s eyes. There was certain craze in his gaze. The man was bewildered. While you were walking down the aisle you saw the princess. She was a beacon of light in between the other wedding guests, who had all seemed exceptionally gloomy for a wedding. She seemed to be the only one who had not allowed the king to steal the light surrounding her. When you passed her, you could have sworn you received a wink from the princess. Such a gesture was extremely inappropriate, but the princess had a reputation of interpreting rules and laws more as guidelines.

Now you were sitting on your bed, alone and waiting. Dinner had passed and you had barely eaten anything. It was time for your wedding night, and because the sole purpose of this marriage was to produce an heir you were now waiting for the head druid. They told you you would be visited by him often. He had to ensure you got pregnant quickly, by closely monitoring your physical state.

This time, when the knock on your door came, you stood up to open it yourself. There stood maybe the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Both of you seemed to freeze for a moment. He looked into your eyes, astonished, but just for a moment. “Your highness”, he bowed: “I’m here for your check-up”. “Uhm yes, come in”, you stuttered while ushering him in. He seemed incredibly flustered while explaining what he was going to do, and you were only listening with half an ear. You were sweating for some reason, although the heat had long left the city. In this kingdom it never stayed warm for long.

First Seokjin asked you a couple questions about your general health. Then he nervously said he had to feel around your belly area to know how ready you were for a child. He looked bright red when he clarified: “You can stay fully clothed, don’t worry”. You smiled reassuringly although you were nervous too. He gestured for you to lay down and after you did, he got to work. His touch was incredibly soft yet firm. You could sense that he knew what he was doing. You could feel through the thin cloth of your wedding dress that his hands were warm and calloused from many years of fiddling with all sorts of herbs. The druid seemed to be void of words. Many times, it looked like he was about to say something, but he always swallowed whatever it was. This was strange. You didn’t know the man personally, but he was famous among the people, and you had seen him perform the ritual every year at the festival. He always seemed to have something to say, and he was known for his witty personality. You also knew that he could hardly ever be thrown off his balance. Two years ago, at the festival, the sudden outburst of black flames had only left him surprised for mere seconds. You remember vividly how he collected himself almost immediately, and calmly instructed the royal family to come back with him to the palace. Since that moment you had admired him.

When the druid named Seokjin left, you felt a bit shaky. Why had he been able to make you so nervous?

When Seokjin shut the door of your chambers behind him, he stood still for a moment and uttered one word: “Shit”.

Taehyung was sitting at his desk in the druid’s hut. A few years ago, he became a full-time apprentice and moved in with Seokjin, druid respected in every corner of the kingdom. He was working on a new recipe when the door swung open, and an incredibly puzzled looking Seokjin walked into the hut. “What’s up with you?”, Taehyung asked. “Odin hates me”, was the short answer he got before Seokjin slammed the door of his room behind him. Being used to his master’s antics and sudden outbursts, Taehyung merely lifted and eyebrow and got back to work.

@lifeless-firefly @emerald-notes @viankiss @jjkwifestyle @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs