Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13039044.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      방탄소년단_|_Bangtan_Boys_|_BTS
  Relationship:
      Jeon_Jungkook/Kim_Taehyung_|_V, Jeon_Jungkook/Park_Jimin, Jeon_Jungkook/
      Kim_Seokjin_|_Jin, Kim_Taehyung_|_V/Park_Jimin, Kim_Seokjin_|_Jin/Kim
      Taehyung_|_V, Kim_Seokjin_|_Jin/Park_Jimin, Jeon_Jungkook/Min_Yoongi_|
      Suga
  Character:
      Jeon_Jungkook, Kim_Taehyung_|_V, Park_Jimin_(BTS), Kim_Namjoon_|_Rap
      Monster, Jung_Hoseok_|_J-Hope, Min_Yoongi_|_Suga, Kim_Seokjin_|_Jin, Jeon
      Jungkook's_Father, Kim_Hyuna, Hong_Jisoo_|_Joshua, Lee_Seokmin_|_DK, Kwon
      Soonyoung_|_Hoshi, Lee_Chan_|_Dino, Boo_Seungkwan, Choi_Hansol_|_Vernon,
      Jeon_Wonwoo, Kim_Mingyu, Ahn_Hyojin_|_LE, Park_Junghwa, EXO_Ensemble,
      SEVENTEEN_Ensemble, Kim_Minseok_|_Xiumin, EXID_Ensemble
  Additional Tags:
      kings_-_Freeform, King_BTS, king_AU, Eventual_Relationships, Eventual
      Smut, Slow_Burn, Slow_Build, Mentioned_SEVENTEEN_Ensemble, Mute_Jeon
      Jungkook, Mute_-_Freeform, Alternate_Universe_-_Royalty, Royalty, It_Gets
      Worse, Unhealthy_Relationships, Mentioned_EXO, Drunk_Sex, Mildly_Dubious
      Consent, Light_Dom/sub, Smut, Fluff_and_Smut, Polyamory, Polygamy,
      Polyfidelity, Implied/Referenced_Homophobia
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-17 Updated: 2018-03-03 Chapters: 11/? Words: 74805
****** White Knuckles ******
by Hour_of_Blue
Summary
     Prince Jungkook has only known isolation and coldness his entire
     life. Forced mute from fear of his father, he remained shut inside
     his oppressive palace, watching the warmth and light of his forest
     kingdom beyond his window. When a stranger appears the night before
     his coronation, Jungkook is encouraged to change, be the progressive
     king his people have always deserved. However, as the other kings
     come to meet, Jungkook is thrown out of his depth and abruptly into
     danger. His only choice, being so young and naive from lack of
     socialization and extreme trauma, is to trust the other kings
     blindly. Once he does so, however, he finds that maybe everything
     isn't as it seems. Everyone seems to be conspiring against him, a
     twisted web of deception and ill intent, and he's fallen right into
     it. But King Seokjin is right. Seokjin will protect him. Seokjin
     would never lie. Seokjin will guide him to the light.
***** King of the King Warm Pine *****
Chapter Notes
     Hello, I have a few things to say and warn you about before you get
     to reading, so let's get to it!
     1. The tags and relationships are incomplete as of right now, I will
     add more as I write more. Might be OT7, if I can manage it... Might
     be a sequel with Jungkook/the other half of BTS he wasn't with in
     this one.
     2. Weekly updates, every weekend (hopefully... yell at me if I
     forget).
     3. If you find any western names... oops. This was originally going
     to be for a different fandom. But BTS happened instead. Just let me
     know if any names make you stop and be like "wait... what."
     4. Story and chapter title are from a song called White Knuckles by
     Holly Henry, which was the first seed of inspiration for this, and
     then I made it spiral out of control and, well, here we are, a year
     later, and I finally finalized the plan. I work very hard, honestly.
     That's it for now, hope I didn't forget anything important.
His hand, next to the dark leaves of the blooming rose bushes, trembles with
his weariness. He continues despite it, boots dragging in the pine needles
heaped on the forest floor. Streams of light cast odd, shifting shadows on the
stone walls, the rock jagged and crumbling with time and weathering. His eyes
lose focus for a moment as the leaves of the trees above blow in the wind,
allowing a shard of sunlight into his eyes, but he can't find the will or
strength to lift his other arm and block it. If he's honest, he doesn't really
want to, anyways. He'd spent so long in the snow trodden mountains that he
missed the feel of the sun in his eyes, and the clinging humidity of the green
forests at the base.
Jungkook's not surprised when his knees finally give out. It's a slow descent
to the ground, his pants immediately moistened by the dew glazing the earth. He
shifts, letting himself lean against the wall. His cheek finds a bare spot, and
the stone is cool. His neck is tickled by the rosebuds, his sleeve gripped by
the thorns. The waning light of day is warm, especially in his heavy cloak, but
the sweat forming on his skin beneath his clothes isn't so bad. Laying here,
it's peaceful, almost. He missed all of this. For months, his heart pined for
these woods, the earthen smell of them, these patches of light, this aged
palace wall he rests upon.
But now his heart pines for what he left behind in the mountains, too. Not the
cold, though. Certainly not the snow, though it could be pretty at times. Not
the aggressive wildlife. Not the bitter winds. Not the villages, or their
merchants. He really only misses one thing. One... person.
Even thinking about him, Jungkook's lips twitch, but he can't be bothered to
smile in his lax position. What they had... it was awful. A damn mess, and they
knew it all too well. Yet, it was more than Jungkook had ever had before.
Jungkook, the orphan. Jungkook, the outcast. Jungkook, the silenced. The king
who closed himself off, who lost his voice for years, who watched as his
people, protected by his private dealings, remained ignorant to what he did for
them. They hated him. They had no idea that he was the protector of their good
souls and strong hearts. What more could an orphan expect from others, though?
He's never been recognized. He's never been wanted. Not until him. Not until
King Seokjin.
He's allowed to say his name casually, he knows that. It's what he's always
called the other man since they were first introduced. Cold, decisive,
dictating ruler Seokjin, offering Jungkook his name, his palace, his
companionship. He wanted a friend. He wanted Jungkook.
I was so foolish, Jungkook reminisces, but not with remorse. No matter how he
looks at it, even now, Seokjin truly did want him.
Jungkook finally finds the strength to smile, small at first, until it
stretches into a grin. That grin turns into a chuckle, interrupted briefly by a
feeble cough that wracks Jungkook's body, the thorns shifting and scraping his
bicep. It's grounding, for a moment, where his happiness fades into a grim
expression, eyes closing, not wanting to look at the darkening sky any more.
But it returns, and soon enough, he's laughing. Fully. Freely. As if he never
has before. Which... he hasn't. Not like this.
It's humorous just how completely, terribly, not funny his situation is and was
and always has been and probably always will be.
Well, he thinks, chest spasming with the force of his laughter, at least
'always will be' isn't much longer.
He tilts his head back, eyes squinting open, the wall a towering number of
stories. The sky is painted, from blue to purple to pink to orange to a blazing
yellow resting on the horizon, barely visible through the expanse of trees. He
thinks maybe this was all worth it. It was better than before, wasn't it? The
misery this castle used to bring... and now I die against it, finally on the
other side of the walls, content at the very least.
He wonders if Seokjin's thinking of him. He wonders if anyone, anywhere, is
thinking of him.
He takes comfort in deciding, no, no one in this world is thinking of me right
now. I could slip away... like I did before, all those years ago... and once
again, no one would care... no one would mind... no one would know what I did
for them...
He's glad to feel his face smiling in his last moments of consciousness. If
anyone finds him, they'll remember him as truly happy. All that matters once
he's gone is how people will remember him. He'll be remembered as happy.
Just... happy.
His hand, fully shaking now, pats the ground, grips the flowers on the wall,
reaches painstakingly up to his head, gripping his crown. With the last bits of
him, he throws it as far as he can, hearing it thump lamely on the ground.
Good.
He never liked it anyways.
Being king.
Being Jungkook.
***** A Page Torn from the Story I'm Living *****
Chapter Notes
     Updates will be every weekend from now on :) again, please notify me
     if any errors slipped through my editing.
     My SEVENTEEN ensemble comes in to play already, so that's fun,
     hopefully.
     Title is from Dynasty by MIIA. Maybe I'll make a playlist of what I
     listen to while I write this, because songs are honestly my biggest
     inspirations.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Everything in the castle had always had such a cold, harsh hue to it. Muted
blue curtains. Stark white marble floors and pillars. Faded, minty wallpapers.
Pale, polished wooden furnishings. Cream couches and chairs. High, arched
ceilings with murals of God's blinding kingdom, heavenly angels with jagged
wings, cherubs with wicked arrows. Silver framed paintings of the Jeon crowned
kings. Never the queens.
These were all things Jeon Jungkook, next heir to the throne, was taught about
from a young age. He was taught to be like the palace: cold, sharp, muted,
harsh at times, withstanding at others. His people were like the forest beyond
the castle walls: warm, vulnerable to external forces, full of life, full of
growth, full of prosperity. All Jungkook had to do when he became king, he was
told, was aid the forest in growing and work at the roots, beneath all their
noses, to keep them prospering.
He was taught to wholeheartedly believe in God. He never had to pray- in fact,
praying was for the people, helpless creatures who needed someone to help them.
Jungkook was to never pray. He would give thanks to the angels every day for
his forest and his people and his palace, though. His father would show him the
portraits of his relatives and ancestors, saying, "They all got into heaven. So
will I. So will you, if you do as I teach you."
He was taught that queens were nothing. The women of the forest, they were
wonderful, bringing more life and order and energy to the land. Queens became a
different breed of woman when they were crowned. The angels transform them, his
father said, taking their true soul to heaven then, and leaving the body to the
king. They were to be shown off at the grand wedding ceremony. They were to be
implanted with the seed to bear the next heir that night. They were to carry
the heir, birth the heir, and care for the heir until it grew enough to be
passed along to the father- the king- for proper raising. That was when the
queen's body was released, able to rest with its soul.
Jungkook could never remember his father's queen, and he was punished the one
time he asked. A hard slap as an effective mechanism so he would never make the
mistake of asking again. Eventually, he learned that not speaking at all was
the best way around punishment, and his father was content with it as long as
he practiced his language skills by himself.
He was doing just that one night, around the age of nine, reciting poetry from
books to himself. One poem had him faltering- one about a woman. Fair-skinned
maiden. Born of the breath of nature. Her hair curated from the dark soil after
fresh rain showers. Her eyes a reflection of a creek, brown in hue from the
smooth rocks distorted beneath the rippling surface. Her voice, the favorite
song of all birds, who sang back to her at first light. A woman, personified as
a ray of sunshine.
He touched the word, sunshine, and an image of his mother flashed through his
mind. He felt longing for a brief moment. He felt... a hole. Like the space
next to him was far too empty for any child his age. What was this?
He slammed his book shut, heart racing, and glanced around quickly. He was in
his bedroom, alone, but he felt as though there were suddenly a thousand
feminine ghosts in this expansive palace. He stowed the book in his clothes
trunk, beneath everything. He couldn't read that poem again. Queens were
nothing. Soulless. Meant for kings' use only.
He started to wonder, though. When the queens married, did their souls
willingly go with the angels? Did they know they were giving themselves for the
kingdom? Was it what they wanted?
So many questions- yet he dared not ask any of them. How could he? He hadn't
received punishment in years, and the thought of tainting his streak of
perfect, kingly behavior left a freezing feeling in the pit of his stomach that
he didn't like one bit.
Year after year, Jungkook stayed the silent, perfect heir for his father. His
mind was straying, though. He could no longer walk down the hallway of
portraits without wondering if any of them had such questions and moral
conflicts. Looking at their faces as they were depicted, he felt like, no, they
hadn't. He was abnormal. He was alone. Their eyes judged him as he passed,
reading his thoughts, being appalled by how they deviated.
Wrong is the word he felt welling up in him every time he sat quietly with the
king. Though, by age sixteen, he wasn't sure whether he was the wrong one, or
if his father was.
It came to a point where Jungkook could no longer look at the king, or the
murals, or the portraits. He could no longer give thanks to the angels, fearing
that if he drew attention to himself by addressing them, they'd figure him out
like an easy jigsaw and he'd never get into heaven.
Jungkook's anxiety grew every day. He'd spend hours, wringing his hands
together, staring at the warm toned greens and browns and yellows of the forest
kingdom, certain that he, by staying silent, was failing them as future heir to
the throne. Didn't they deserve more than the cold, distant rulers that address
their issues with no more than selfish regards?
Jungkook truly believed they did. But it had been years, the Jeon way already
established and deeply rooted in the system of the forest people. Jungkook
could never just change everything, turn their world upside down like that,
even if it would eventually be better off. It seemed like too much, too sudden.
He feared they'd call him crazy and abandon the kingdom his ancestors worked so
hard to help grow and prosper.
He knew his duty. He knew how it had to be. He'd be that silent, all powerful
king they expected. A seamless shift from his father to him, as if no new king
had been put in place, just a carbon copy of the previous one. As it always had
been. As Jungkook knew it always had to be.
So cruel, he thought, looking out the window one of those days. So cruel that
the angels give us humans free will to think, but not free will to act.
The sun was just dipping below the mountains in the distance when Jungkook got
word that his father wanted to see him. He was guided to the throne room by a
royal servant. It was sad. He didn't even know the servants' names, even if he
did vaguely recognize them. This one, a man with a thin, crooked figure,
Jungkook remembered his father was close to, but that was about all he knew. He
was attractive, Jungkook thought, suddenly, and nearly tripped as he walked
behind the man because of the unexpected realization. It hadn't taken long for
Jungkook to roll his shoulders and relax again, though. Another thing for him
to hide and figure out himself. It practically meant nothing to him by that
point.
The servant opened the door for him, and he went through, trying not to look as
he was bowed to. He never did like that very much. He did catch a glimpse of
the man's face as he did it, though. Eyes closed, lashes dark and long. His
lips were full only on the bottom, lilted in a gracious little smirk. High
cheekbones. Sculpted jaw. He looked away too fast to let himself think about
it, instead meeting his father's eyes across the room. Jungkook looked away
from him, too, fated to look at the floor.
The king was sat on his silver throne, dressed in layered black fabric that
fell gracefully around his body. Jungkook was very similar to his father- in
appearance, that is. The crooked shoulders, angular hips, strong stature. Same
brown eyes, dark hair, youthful face. The king had lighter skin, though, still
a warm color compared to castle background, but unnatural from lightening
products. Jungkook could never wrap his mind around why he would do that to the
lovely, golden skin of the Jeon family.
"Prince," his father greeted him, voice harsh, quite unlike Jungkook's own.
He'd never been called son, or even by his name. Always prince.
"King," Jungkook returned quietly. That was the only word Jungkook had ever
spoken to his father for years. When Jungkook had once only greeted him by a
bow of his head, the king was furious, telling him that he could keep his mouth
shut every other second of the day, but he must always greet his father as
king. That earned a punishment. He learned from it, as he always did, very
quickly.
The king's chin went up, and he scratched it as he scrutinized his son. "Your
hair is growing fast," the older man noted, blank faced. "Cut it." Jungkook
nodded immediately, and his father seemed content for the moment. "I received
some news today," he continued, looking off to the side. His eyes brushed over
the ornate table next to the throne, where a document sat. His expression never
changed. Jungkook was anxious, a bad feeling cultivated in his chest as he
waited in silence for this news. "I am ill."
A pregnant pause ensued. Jungkook noticed, mutedly, that it was raining outside
the tall windows behind his father. He was not saddened by the rain, or the
news, but he let a small frown show anyways. More of a questioning expression.
"I'll be fairly able for the next few months, maybe even the rest of the year."
It was already August at the time. "It's not something that will get better,
however." Ah, Jungkook thought, brows furrowing. He's not just ill. He's dying.
This, too, didn't sadden Jungkook as much as he knew it should have. It struck
fear in him, though. A selfish fear. A fear of his own future, not his
father's. He knew his father would get into heaven. He had no reason to feel
sad for him. "You still have so much to learn, prince, before you can ever take
my place." Jungkook felt his heart squeezed by a cold grasp. It took all his
power not to shiver. "We start a more vigorous course of training today. I know
your lessons with your teacher have ended for the day already, and she has
earned her rest. That is why I will be teaching you in the evenings from now
on, for as long as I still can."
Jungkook's eyebrows shot up, then, but only briefly. He schooled his expression
quickly as the king looked at him then. It was alarming. Jungkook had never
spent more than an hour at a time with his father since he was eleven.
"Look happy," the king ordered, but his voice was not angry. It almost
sounded... sad. Jungkook forced the tiniest of smiles. The king was not content
with this, but he let it go.
Jungkook's father stood, robes sweeping down to the floor. He nodded towards
the door before moving past Jungkook, who was expected to follow. He did. There
was an uncomfortable lump in his throat that made it difficult to breathe.
They went down the hall of portraits, where Jungkook kept his head down,
following the feet of his father just in the top of his vision. There was a
time when he was caught bowing his head in the portrait hallway, and he was
frozen, awaiting punishment. Instead, his father had praised him for showing
such respect. This time, however, his father stopped him in the middle of the
hall, and grabbed his chin with a strong grip. It made Jungkook flinch despite
his efforts not to. The king looked at him silently for a moment, mouth a hard
line. "You'll be king in a matter of years. You raise your head with pride
walking down this hall."
Jungkook nodded, swallowing the lump, and his father let go and turned, walking
at a brisk pace. Jungkook took long strides to keep up, and was confused to
discover them coming upon the ballroom.
"King?" He inflected questioningly, but his father didn't turn, just entered
the large, commodious room and ordered the door be shut behind them. The same
servant who had led Jungkook to the throne room was there, neatly placing an
array of... weapons... on a table off to the side. Outside the wall long,
floor-to-ceiling windows, the sky was dark, and Jungkook could see his own
reflection looking small and uncertain. He turned away.
His father faced him, then, holding out a long, black leather scabbard, waiting
for Jungkook to take it. Jungkook was hesitant, thought. He had never wielded a
weapon before. His father had never so much as mentioned that he'd ever have
to.
"Take it, prince," the king urged, his face stony as usual once again. It was
oddly comforting to Jungkook, who gingerly took the scabbard and held it
awkwardly in his hands.
It came with a belt, the straps of which hung untied, with a sturdy silver
buckle at the end of one. He looked up, and copied his father, who was
attaching a similar scabbard to his own waist. His father also removed his
cloak, which the handsome servant took and carefully folded on the table.
Jungkook's eyes lingered on his graceful, practiced movements for only a moment
before he was ordered to draw his sword.
When he did, he was surprised that the weight was not lessened much at all
without the scabbard, but it didn't feel uncomfortably heavy in his hands. His
father held his with only one hand, but advised, "Use both if you must.
Eventually you will get used to it, and I will give you a shield."
Jungkook thought he'd prefer not to have the shield; he knew enough about sword
fighting from books to know there are adequate ways to block with just a sword.
Shield seemed bothersome.
It took days of training just to learn the basics, but by the time he was able
to spar with his father, he had decided for certain that he would not do well
with a shield. He was surprised to find himself preferring the offensive, and
when he did need go on defense, he would use his lithe body and speed to dart
away, or duck under his father's elbow to make his own attack from behind.
Fortunately, the king didn't push for him to learn with the shield, having also
noticed Jungkook's particular tactics.
Two months went by, and he was almost evenly matched with his father, who
admits he'd gotten out of practice. As well as that, the king's body was
already weakening. He would need frequent breathers, and when his sword would
clash with Jungkook's, his arm would quake. With his skill, he would usually
manage to maneuver it in his favor. By four months, though, Jungkook had
learned ways to press harder and make it benefit him instead.
After a particularly grueling session, the king, with his hands behind his
head, doubled over in a chair, commanded his servant start sparring with
Jungkook from then on.
"Yes, King Jeon," the man obliged graciously, bowing as he was handed the
king's scabbard, which he tied around himself with deft movements. Pulling the
sword out, the man studied it for a moment, holding it vertically to his face
and running a white gloved hand down the flat part of the blade. He let out a
breath. Jungkook hadn't noticed the man had been holding it. "What a lovely
weapon, my lord."
"It was handed down to me," the king explained, straightening out despite his
breath still coming sharply.
"I am honored to use it."
Jungkook drew his own sword again, wiping the sweat from his brow with his free
hand. The brace over his forearm scratched his forehead, but he ignored the
slight sting, taking his stance. Body low, feet apart, sword up. The servant
did the same, but there was more grace in it. There were years of practice
behind the way he held himself and his tall, crooked body. Jungkook only just
noticed why he looked so crooked. One arm was stiffer, specifically at the
shoulder, which was slightly lower than the other. Jungkook only had a moment
to wonder what happened before the king called the match to begin.
Jungkook was put immediately on the defensive, parrying a blatant beginning
attack from the servant. It threw him off guard for a moment, until he
realized, right. Royal servants. They're all trained to protect the king. Even
this crooked man.
Jungkook attempted a counterattack, but his hand was knocked all too easily to
the side, leaving his body wide open as the servant quickly readjusted to
strike at him. Jungkook still had his swift footwork, however, and pivoted just
in time to miss the brute of it, only his retreating arm getting grazed.
The servant was also quick, it seemed, for Jungkook had only just moved when he
was already being come at again. This time, he met the blow with his own sword
in a ringing clang. Jungkook didn't particularly like that noise- it often hurt
his ears or threw him off- but against this opponent, it was satisfying. Their
swords met a few more times, but Jungkook was steadily being pushed back. When
the servant went for a wide swing, Jungkook tried to do as he would to his
father, duck and dart past him, but the servant had been watching closely over
their training sessions. Instead of shifting his weight to turn towards
Jungkook as would be instinct, he continued his motion and spun the other way,
and used his sword almost like a bat to swing the flat of it right against
Jungkook's armored stomach. It was effective despite the protection, forcing
Jungkook to fall and wheeze for the air that was knocked abruptly from him. The
servant raised his sword, and brought it down. For a terrifying moment,
Jungkook thought it would go clean through his neck, but the servant stopped it
just before it touched his skin.
Jungkook took rugged, gasping breaths as he looked up, still on his hands and
knees, at the man standing over him. The servant's face was alight with joy, to
Jungkook's surprise, and he was also breathing hard.
The servant lowered his sword, his usual quirked lips growing into a grin. He
reached a hand for Jungkook, who accepted it and was pulled to his feet, still
dumbfounded. His legs were wobbly, but he didn't go for a chair. Instead, he
returned the servant's grin with a small smirk of his own.
"You did well, prince," the king interrupted Jungkook's dazed staring, and he
quickly turned his gaze to the floor, nodding a thank you towards his father.
He probably would have been blushing, but his face was already flushed from his
training. "One day, you will be able to hold your own against Jisoo." Ah.
Jisoo, Jungkook repeated in his mind, glancing briefly at the servant again.
"His right arm was damaged while training with the cavalry, which is why he is
now a servant instead of part of the forest army, but he is still the strongest
swordsman I've met." He turned to Jisoo, then. "I know you will teach him
well." Jisoo bowed, then moved to the table to put away his scabbard and sword.
"Prince, you and I will begin lessons in politics before each of these sessions
now that you've grown enough to defeat me. You are also allowed to call on
Jisoo whenever you wish to train with him. Ask him anything."
Jungkook nodded once, and handed over his armor and weapon when Jisoo offered
to take them. He was distracted. He could see his father's unhealthy pallor,
worsened by the bright lights of the ballroom. He'd be on a steady decline from
then on. Jungkook was an adult by then, his birthday having been two months
previous in September, but he didn't feel like one. He felt like a child about
to try to rule the land. He was intelligent, sure, but what did he know about
politics or military or resources? All he hoped was that his father could teach
him in the amount of time he had left.
Before Jungkook knew it, nearly another year had passed. He watched each day as
his father grew weaker, until he was officially bedridden in July. From there,
there wasn't much left for him. It was September, and Jungkook was turning
nineteen, but just like the year before, he still felt like he wasn't ready to
be king. He felt like he would never be ready to be king. He'd talked to
himself, and himself alone, for nine years. How would he speak to his people?
How would they speak to him? How would he know what's best for them?
September passed, and as October settled in, the air started getting cooler.
The king was always too hot in his room and would order Jungkook to open his
windows for him, but the chill in the air only made his joints achy and stiff,
and the palace doctor scolded the prince for listening to his father.
He still visited the king every evening for lessons on running the kingdom, but
as November started creeping up, the king found himself shorter and shorter of
breath. Jungkook was patient, though, and listened through his father's choppy
sentences.
His training with Jisoo had continued, as well. Every day, after lessons with
his father, he would have the closest servant run a note to call him to the
ballroom, until he didn't have to any more. Jisoo would simply wait there, even
as his lessons grew longer because of his father's inability to speak well.
They would practice for hours. Time meant nothing in the ballroom- unless the
sun started to rise through the wall of glass, when Jisoo would advise they
stop. He learned how to sword fight, how to wield battle axes, how to hold his
own in hand-to-hand, and discovered he had a knack for shooting arrows. He knew
it was partially his favorite because Jisoo would take him outside for hours
practicing on targets set up around the forest behind the castle, and there was
nothing Jungkook enjoyed more than the woods.
One particularly cold night in December, it started snowing while they were out
there. It was the first snow in decades, and Jungkook was enthralled by it. It
would catch in Jisoo's hair, a stark contrast with his brown locks. Snow was
beautiful to Jungkook.
Curiously, he gestured to Jisoo, and together they went to the front of the
palace, right up to the front gate. Jungkook had never been beyond the gate,
and he knew Jisoo wouldn't let him then, either, but he peered out between the
bars at the town beyond. The palace was on a hill within the forest, a small
dip in the terrain leading to the houses among the trees. From his distance,
Jungkook couldn't see the people, but chimneys were releasing black boughs of
smoke, and rooftops were being dusted in white. The bars of the gate froze
Jungkook's fingers when he gripped them tight, but he didn't care.
"You could be different, you know," Jisoo murmured, coming up to hold the bars
next to Jungkook. Jungkook looked at him, but the servant was looking
thoughtfully at the town. His cold lips were a rich pink, and his skin looked
almost pale in the odd lighting of the cloudy night sky. "They would welcome
it."
Jungkook searched his face for another moment before looking back at the town.
At the people. His people. Just like that, he was nervous again. He noticed his
hands trembling, and tightened his grip on the bars even more, until his
knuckles turned white. They hurt, but he held on for dear life.
"What will you do, King Jungkook?" Jisoo asked softly, making Jungkook's breath
catch. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. He let go of the bars and turned on his
heel, boots leaving prints in the fine powder on the stone path. Jisoo followed
quickly, speaking fast before they could enter the palace. "I know you want the
kingdom to change."
Jungkook's hand hit hard when he whirled on Jisoo, the servant's head turning
with the force. It stung his frozen fingers, but he wanted to do it again. He
tried to- but Jisoo caught his wrist. Jungkook was fuming, breathing harshly
through his nose, the snowy air sending sharp pains to his sinuses. Jisoo kept
his gaze averted as he recuperated.
"I'm sorry, prince," he said remorsefully after a long moment, the guilt and
regret evident in his tone. Jungkook almost felt bad for hitting him. Almost.
Something about it- he couldn't shake the anger and fear he felt when Jisoo
called him king. "I never-"
When Jungkook moved the hand Jisoo clutched, he let him, voice fading. The
prince brought it to the servant's cheek again, gently this time, covering the
reddening skin. An apology. The best he could give without opening his mouth.
He could speak. Could utter a sorry. But he feared he'd mess up, somehow, even
on something so simple.
How will I ever be king? He asked himself.
"It's cold," Jisoo eventually stated, and stepped back, letting Jungkook's hand
fall. "We should go inside."
Jungkook shook his head, though, and started walking towards the backyard
again, picking up his bow that he abandoned on the way to the gate. Jisoo
chuckled behind him, retrieving his own bow. They continued their training
until the snow piled too high and they got headaches from peering into the
dark.
It was early February when Jungkook's father slipped into a sleep that lasted
for days. Jungkook visited him every night, for an hour at a time, half
expecting the king to wake up suddenly and berate Jungkook for letting him fall
asleep during a lesson.
He never did wake up.
It was surreal, watching his father die. It had been so gradual that it seemed
right for him to just slip away like he had. The only reason Jungkook even
realized he was dead was because he dared touch his father's hand, and found it
cold as the snow that had came and went too quickly that one day in December.
He didn't call for the doctor straight away. He felt like that would be wrong
of him as a son, not to try and mourn. He didn't want to, though.
Jungkook never wanted his father to die. He wasn't horrible. Harsh, but not
horrible. He didn't deserve the slow, grueling illness he got.
Jungkook still wasn't sad- not quite. At least, he didn't think so. Even if he
did feel sad, it translated into anger, which was easier to be pent up inside
himself and taken out later, when he was alone.
He was angry that his father left him. He was angry that he was now king- the
thought made him feel like throwing up. He was angry he only had a week for the
wake and funeral before his coronation. He was furious that the other kingdoms
asked to meet the new king just another short week after that.
He took a deep breath.
He exited the room, handed a note to the servant guarding the door, and went to
the ballroom. Jisoo was there, as usual, standing next to the weapons table. It
was the first time in Jungkook's life that he'd wanted to touch someone so bad.
He refrained.
They trained as usual, sparring with swords. Every clash and slide jarred
Jungkook, and every hit Jisoo got on him seemed to strike him twice as hard. It
got to a point where Jisoo was able to hit Jungkook with such force, he fell on
his back and remained there, looking dazedly at the high ceiling. He hadn't
looked up at ceilings since he was a kid. The angels were looking down on him.
Disappointed. Mocking him as he laid there and they flew high above him with
their wings. It made Jungkook feel sick for a moment, before he had a
realization.
His father was in heaven. All Jungkook had to do was be as his father was, and
he, too, would get into heaven. Simple enough, right? I can do this, he told
himself, blinking away his dizziness. Take it one day at a time. Breathe.
Jisoo came into his line of sight, features turned in a look of concern. Right.
He had Jisoo, too, who knew his father for years.
"He's dead, isn't he?" Jisoo guessed in that smooth, soft voice of his.
Jungkook nodded, hair shifting against the smooth white floor. It felt nice and
cool against his exercised muscles. He had become so much stronger in a matter
of two and a half years. He was no longer just skin and bones. His arms and
stomach and legs had tone to them, now. Slim, but noticeable. He had
accomplished so much. He had become prepared for this.
Instead of offering a hand, Jisoo got down and laid next to Jungkook, letting
out a long breath as he settled on the floor. "Can I ask now?"
Jungkook turned his head toward the man, eyes questioning at what he meant.
"What will you do... King Jungkook?"
Jungkook turned his head back to the ceiling, not angry at the question like he
had been before. It had become a reality. A question he truly had to be asked.
Something he should have asked himself before Jisoo had ever prompted it.
He had no idea how to answer. So he made his uncertainty into his answer.
"Seek help," he mumbled, voice hoarse from disuse.
He attended his father's wake. He saw the forest people for the first time in
his life- up close, at least. They greeted him like an old friend, lining up to
hold his hand, whisper condolences, share their confidence in him, some even
hugged him. They were all so warm.
The throne room filled with these warm people, and for just a few hours,
Jungkook felt happy in his palace. An odd feeling to have at a funeral, but he
wasn't about to let that stop him from feeling it. He held on tight, and let it
give him the courage to smile for those who smiled at him, and nod in thanks to
those who gave their regards. He didn't realize how tired he'd become until the
wake ended, and the forest people left in steady streams. He took his place by
the door despite his weariness, and he received and gave gestures of farewell.
He caught Jisoo's eye from across the room as he did so. The servant was
smiling approvingly, and he gave Jungkook a discreet nod. That propelled the
prince through the rest of the goodbyes, and as the last person left through
the castle gates, Jungkook nearly collapsed against the wall. Servants were
already bustling around the room. He'd never seen so many in one area. He
didn't even know they had this many.
Jisoo approached him, and leant against the wall with him. "Do you want time
alone with the casket?" The man asked out of courtesy. He already knew the
answer, but Jungkook shook his head and confirmed it for him. He'd done his
grieving. Kind of. It never sunk in. Ever. It just... happened, and Jungkook
pushed right past it, as he did with everything that happened to him.
He supposed he couldn't do that any more, with him becoming king. The thought
had stopped panicking him so much. He had a shaky plan in place, but it was his
own reminders that he'd survive that truly comforted him.
Jisoo accompanied Jungkook back to his room that night. The servant was
obviously worried about Jungkook on top of his own grieving for the king, but
he kept a strong face. Probably for the prince's sake. Jungkook didn't want
that, though.
Without thinking, Jungkook invited Jisoo into his bedroom. Jungkook usually
never let servants into his private space, but he felt Jisoo needed someone.
Him and the king were good friends. So were him and Jungkook, which was why he
knew he had to be there for his servant.
Jungkook sat on his bed, and pat the space next to him. Jisoo sat cautiously,
body tensed. Both of them were on edge. Jungkook was sheltered, sure, but he
knew the implications of inviting someone into his private space. He is
attractive, Jungkook couldn't help thinking, and it must have been for the
hundredth time by that point. He shook it off, though. He wasn't sure just how
much older Jisoo was than him, but even besides that, Jungkook has grown up
learning that what he wanted was wrong. He doubted any thought other than a
platonic one had ever crossed Jisoo's mind about Jungkook, anyways.
It was quiet for a long time, but despite Jungkook's wandering mind and Jisoo's
stiff muscles, it wasn't awkward. It was grievous. Jungkook was still afraid of
his mouth, too much so to ask Jisoo any of the many questions he had, starting
with are you okay?
"Your hair is growing," Jisoo commented lightly, voice breaking a little.
Jungkook reached up and ran his hand through it, nodding slowly. His father
hadn't been awake to order him to cut it again. "It looks good. You look
older."
Jungkook froze, unsure of himself suddenly. Unsure of where he stood. He
thought he was past his confusion. Of course Jisoo would be the one to make it
return. He nodded in a thank you.
Jisoo hesitated, taking a moment, but eventually said, "You don't have to be
afraid to talk around me."
Jungkook nodded again. Jisoo stared at him for a long moment, before his
shoulders slumped and he looked around Jungkook's room instead. It was a
spacious area, the bed tucked in a corner beneath a curtained window. On the
other side of the room was his desk, loose paper and pencils across it, stacks
of books on the floor next to it even though he had a large bookshelf. His
trunk of clothing was at the foot of the bed. The entire room had been the same
since he was a child. A monochrome them. The only color came from the outside
if the curtains were drawn back, which they only were during the day.
He wished Jisoo would talk. Tell him how he felt. But he knew the servant was
waiting for Jungkook to ask. So, he accepted that they'd just be sitting in
silence, and flopped back to lay horizontally across the bed to at least be
comfortable. It seemed Jisoo also accepted it, as he laid back as well.
Jungkook remembered, just yesterday, them doing the same on the ballroom floor.
The mood was the same, but it still felt different. Like they were closer. It
was odd, because the twenty-four hours hadn't changed much between their
relationship. He supposed with the death of the king, he was the next closest
to Jisoo. Even so, there was something else to the atmosphere.
Jisoo folded his arms behind his head, and Jungkook folded his hands over his
stomach. He noticed a blemish on the ceiling, and it took a moment for him to
realize when it was from. His twelfth birthday. A year of struggle for
Jungkook, especially within himself, and obviously his body, his hormones. He
couldn't remember what he was angry about exactly, he just recalled it being
stupid. Jungkook had kept it in all day, but when he got to his room that
night, he nearly wrecked the place. It was a candle that made the mark.
Jungkook had slammed a fist so hard on his desk, the leg collapsed and it sent
a candle flying. It shattered against the ceiling, and left a tiny scorch mark
before landing on his bed, nearly setting it alight. Luckily, the force of the
air on the way down caused the candle to go out. Jungkook only had to change
his waxy sheets.
"Are you interested in your meeting with the other kingdoms?" Jisoo asked
Jungkook just then. The prince felt idiotic. Jisoo probably didn't feel like
talking about the death. Of course. Just because Jungkook wasn't hit as hard
didn't mean Jisoo wasn't.
Jungkook shrugged. He honestly didn't know. He hadn't let himself think about
it, knowing it would have only given him anxiety about it.
"You know that to ask for help, you have to actually speak to them?" Jungkook
sighed, and shoved at Jisoo's side playfully. Glancing over, he noticed the
servant grinning. "So mean to me, prince. I'm just making sure you know."
"I'll be fine," Jungkook assured him in nearly a whisper.
Jisoo shifted, and Jungkook felt his eyes on him. He expected the servant to
look away after a moment, but the staring continued until Jungkook looked as
well. Their eyes met, and Jungkook felt his heart skip a beat before it started
racing. He hadn't truly looked someone in the eyes since... well, ever, he
thought. It was terrifying. He felt like Jisoo could see into his soul. He
might have been able to see into Jisoo's, too, but he was too busy panicking,
worrying if the castle was shaking with the pounding of his heart.
Jungkook licked his lips, his mouth feeling dry, but when Jisoo's eyes flicked
down to catch the movement, it just got worse. He could tell his breathing was
off. He wondered if Jisoo could tell by it that he was freaking out. Yet, he
couldn't look away. They were too close- there was nowhere else to look, unless
he, too, took a glance at Jisoo's mouth, but- no, that would have been an awful
idea.
They were at a stalemate. Jungkook wouldn't do anything- not unless Jisoo did
something. The thing about that was Jungkook knew Jisoo would never do anything
unless Jungkook did something first. Jungkook was so uncertain, though. He'd
been by himself his entire life. He'd never had friends, let alone a stupid
little crush like this. He'd read about love or whatever in his books, but it
was always so simple. How did they know it was right? How did they know it was
mutual?
He knew what was supposed to happen in this scenario. Laying on his bed, eyes
locked, not wanting to talk. He knew what it meant.
His mind was racing too much- it was making him dizzy. He tried to take a
mental step back, calm down, think with a level head, but it just wasn't
possible being so close to someone. It was almost uncomfortable. He felt like
he couldn't breathe, which was bad, because he was panicking and needed to
breathe more than ever.
"Prince?" Jisoo questioned, voice breathy and uncertain.
Jungkook's lips twitched, and he sat up suddenly, holding his head in his hands
and staring at the floor, eyes wide. The bed compressed beside him as Jisoo
followed. All Jungkook could see of him were his hands, gripping the edge of
the mattress.
"Prince," Jisoo said again, regretfully this time.
"Don't," Jungkook breathed, closing his eyes tightly. He felt his face and neck
burning. Good, he thought remorsefully. Just set me on fire.
He felt a warm hand under his chin, holding it gently, so unlike the many times
his father would grab him there forcefully. It cautiously guided his face to
the side. Now Jungkook's heart was really in his throat. He didn't dare open
his eyes. He could feel the calculating gaze on his face. He probably looked
like a mess.
"I... won't kiss you, prince," Jisoo told him blatantly. Jungkook nodded ever
so slightly. "You're going to be king in less than a week. And I will remain a
servant." Jungkook nodded again. "You have a duty to fulfill." Jungkook nodded
a third time, forceful enough to make Jisoo's hand drop.
Jungkook finally opened his eyes again, finding his view was the floor again.
He expected more, but Jisoo got up and left, and Jungkook was grateful. He went
straight to bed, turning off his lights and cocooning himself in his bedsheets
and blankets. He knew it had to be this way. He had to find a queen. Someone
who could carry the heir, be his shell. A woman.
Jungkook dreaded meeting the other kings.
Chapter End Notes
     So, a little explanation on Jungkook's muteness. He is not medically
     mute. He can speak if he feels so compelled. It was a result of his
     father's treatment. And... that's all there is to it.
     Also, I'm a sucker for flirty cross-shipping, but I promise there
     isn't too much of that (unless feedback begs for more).
     ~MC (ps, I like reading and writing author notes, you don't have to
     keep reading them if they don't interest you, but the beginning ones
     are sometimes important and may hold warnings in the future)
***** Remember My Name *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The funeral felt no different than the wake. Jungkook was too distracted with
all the people and the coronation days away and meeting the other kings. His
head was swimming with the stress of it all.
He collapsed into bed the night before the coronation, and found himself once
again staring at the small scorch mark on his otherwise spotlessly white
ceiling. All he wanted to do was sleep- he was exhausted- but he knew that the
sooner he fell asleep, the sooner the next morning would seem to come, and he
wasn't ready to face his coronation day.
The forest people were all so kind to him, giving him soft and caring
expressions. Below that, though, there was a division among what they expected
from him. Some looked at him like he was his father. Hard, dutiful eyes that
bore into him. Others looked at him like a new hope. Bright eyed, determined
gazes that nearly overwhelmed Jungkook. He knew he couldn't be what everyone
expected- the hard part was choosing who to please.
He felt, as the times had been changing, it was no longer a matter of simply
disappointing half his people. What he would have were uprisings on his hands-
his father, before he died, told him of recent petitioners and angry groups
forming. There were the conservatives, and there were the revolutionaries.
There was no way to appease them both.
Jungkook knew it was unfair to him. Jungkook also knew that both groups didn't
see just how unfair it was to him. Not that it would stop them. In fact, it was
their one chance. In their lifetimes, at least.
He wondered just how long he'd have after his coronation before he'd be forced
to choose a side. That, or before both sides grew tired of waiting and tried to
take over the whole government and-
Jungkook flipped onto his stomach and pressed his face into his pillow. The
thought of suffocation flit briefly through his mind, but it was shaken away
almost immediately. That would be the most selfish thing he could do at a time
like that. With a move like that, he'd be down the drain to hell. Not to
mention that death was terrifying to him. Even with the thought of a heaven and
hell in his faith, he had been doubtful for years.
What am I thinking? Jungkook berated himself. This blasphemy on the religion my
father taught me?
But that's all it was, wasn't it? Something his father taught him. An accepted
concept with no real evidence.
You're falling apart, Jungkook.
He couldn't help it.
He dragged himself out of bed, weary to the core but mind racing too much to
sleep. He peered out his door, and found the hallway empty. It didn't matter if
he was caught, really- the castle was all his. He was an adult. He was about to
be king. Still, he didn't want to be bothered. He didn't want to be found at
the moment.
He crept his way to the ballroom, not being seen out of pure luck. There had
been a few close calls, but he quietly shut the large double doors behind
himself and was blissfully alone. He didn't dare turn on the lights- the
moonlight coming from the wall of windows was enough to see by. Seemed it was
almost a full moon.
Jungkook grabbed his bow from the closet and strapped on a quiver of arrows
before making his way outside. There were no targets set up, so he used other
markers. He'd hit a bump on a tree, or lodge an arrow between two loose stones
in the castle wall. He was aiming for a patch of moss on a tree trunk inside
the castle wall when he caught movement just to the left of it, and released
before he was quite ready. He dropped his bow to his side, quirking his lips in
disappointment when he saw it was stuck in another tree, this one just outside
the walls.
He saw more movement, and cocked his head. He knew it was probably just an
animal, but all of a sudden, he couldn't shake the paranoia that it was a
person lurking in the dark. He casually made his way to the wall, and slung his
bow across his body before looking up. It was pretty tall...
Jungkook shook his head and stretched his fingers, then grabbed a stone and
began precariously climbing. If Jungkook had been in any worse shape, he
wouldn't have made it, but he heaved himself on top of the thick wall in a
matter of minutes, drawing heavy breaths. His eyes scanned the dark forest
beyond, but even the bright moonlight wasn't enough to fully break through the
growth and light the heavily wooded area.
Jungkook shook his head a second time, and retrieved his arrow from the tree.
Upon inspection, it wasn't too damaged, and could be used again. He put it in
his quiver and turned, about to climb back down the wall when he took a pause.
Sitting atop the wall, he could see far over the castle grounds. He spotted a
servant through one of the windows, conversing with a maid in what looked like
a heated discussion. Interesting.
Jungkook allowed himself to sit down cross-legged and watch his castle servants
passing through rooms. It made him realize just how alone he was in that
castle. All the servants knew each other, but his father advised not getting
close to any of them. The only person Jungkook truly knew was Jisoo, and it had
been days since they talked. Ever since... in Jungkook's bedroom...
A tree made a small snapping noise behind him, and he whirled, at a crouch in a
second. He froze, wide-eyed, watching another figure, just as frozen, and just
as wide-eyed, perched on a thick tree branch.
"Hi," the stranger spoke, casually. It made the prince jump, though, alarmed.
The stranger shot his hand out, quick as lightning, grabbing Jungkook's arm
before he could move back. "Hey, don't fall, I just met you! That would be
rude."
Rude? Jungkook wondered, bewildered, before snatching his arm back.
The other man tilted his head. Jungkook noticed he had very distinct, handsome
features. It was all he could focus on. "What, nothing?"
Oh. Oh, Jungkook realized, and had the decency to look sheepish. He wants me to
speak. He shook his head, and touched his lips indicatively, hoping the
stranger understood.
The man's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What? The prince doesn't speak? How
will you run a kingdom!" Jungkook felt his confidence drop like a weight to his
gut. "I mean- Sorry, I don't actually... You'll be fine!"
Jungkook was so used to the people around him accommodating to his silent
responses that he was nearly affronted by how this stranger spoke. He wanted to
ask who he was, why he was here, why he had such strange dialect- Jungkook had
a myriad of questions.
A silence spanned out for a minute, the stranger just studying Jungkook in
interest as the prince's expression grew more and more annoyed until the man
came to his senses. "Oh! You're probably wondering who on Earth I am, and why
I'm creeping on you in the middle of the night." Jungkook gave him a
patronizing look. "I'm Taehyung." The odd man stuck out a hand, and Jungkook
shook it gingerly. "I'm what some may call a bandit." Jungkook yanked his arm
back, but the man only chuckled. "Don't worry. I'd never steal from a prince.
Besides, I'm over my bandit phase."
Taehyung looked around briefly, face going into the moonlight for just a
moment. Jungkook still couldn't make out too much of his face except his lax
eyes and his nose. Wow, Jungkook couldn't help but think. He was like some sort
of flower boy, he was so pretty.
A gust of wind swept through the area, rustling the trees and making the pretty
bandit shiver on his perch. Jungkook noticed he was only wearing a thin, dark
green cotton shirt, black pants, and ankle boots. He must be cold, Jungkook
registered, and without really thinking, took off his bow and quiver to unclip
his winter cloak and cautiously wrap it around Taehyung's notedly thin
shoulders. The man looked at him, eyebrows raised, but pulled the warm material
tighter around himself nonetheless.
"You're very strange, forest prince," Taehyung murmured, eyed narrowing, but
just then, he grinned, big and boxy. He didn't say thank you, but Jungkook felt
the air of gratitude.
Jungkook glanced behind him as he put his bow and quiver back over his body,
and scanned the many windows of the palace. None of the servants had noticed
him outside yet. He doubted they would.
With this confidence, he stood and shifted over on the wall, offering Taehyung
a hand. Taehyung didn't even hesitate before taking it, using it to help him
safely step across to stand on the stones with Jungkook. Jungkook nodded
towards inside the walls, at the palace's backyard, before he lowered himself
to start climbing down.
"You're just full of surprises," Taehyung remarked in delight, and started
following. Only when they were safely on the ground did Jungkook think of just
how bad an idea what he was doing was.
He led Taehyung to the back door, fingers picking at one another, antsy. He
knew he had to do something before he allowed the stranger in. He turned,
making Taehyung stop and stare at him quizzically. "Why are you here?"
"Huh. The prince does speak."
"Answer," Jungkook ordered simply, trying to keep his voice strong.
"I was cold... None of your people seemed to trust me. I was going to sneak
over the castle walls and see if there was a shed or closed off room I could
get into, just for the night," Taehyung replied, sounding earnest. But what
would Jungkook know? He had no reason to trust the man, especially if all of
his forest people hadn't. But he pitied the shivering bandit, whose cheeks were
flushed in the wind and whose hands gripped Jungkook's cloak close to himself
tightly.
"One night," Jungkook finally relented sternly, letting his shoulders relax. He
turned and opened the back door a sliver, looking into the room before being
sure it was clear. As he made his way through the castle- stopping by the
ballroom to put away his bow- he felt the need to constantly look over his
shoulder. Taehyung was light on his feet, it seemed, so silent that Jungkook
was paranoid he'd snuck off on him. Taehyung remained faithfully behind him,
though, and in no time, they were at Jungkook's bedroom door.
Jungkook nearly sighed with relief. Once again, there had been close calls with
a few wandering servants, but they managed to duck around corners and weave
through the halls without getting caught. Like when Jungkook was sneaking out,
he knew he didn't really have to hide his actions. It was his castle. He would
be crowned king the next day. Still. Habit.
Jungkook opened his door and ushered Taehyung inside, closing and locking it
behind them. When he turned to face his room, he stopped dead, heart
stuttering, finding Taehyung in a stare off with none other than Jisoo, sitting
patiently on Jungkook's bed.
This. This is another reason why I snuck around.
"Prince, who is this man?" Jisoo asked, voice cold and emotionless.
Jungkook didn't dare speak.
Taehyung seemed to understand this, and cleared his throat. "Um, I'm Taehyung.
Nice to meet you?"
Jisoo stood abruptly, hand going to his waist where Jungkook knew the servant
kept a dagger. Jungkook stepped forward quickly, but Jisoo held up a hand.
"That's the satoori of a rat." Jungkook's eyebrows furrowed, and Jisoo quickly
explained, "Someone who dwells between the kingdoms, refusing to be ruled over
by a monarchy. Infamous as being petty thieves and masters of trickery."
"I'll admit," Taehyung defended himself quickly, "I was a rat once, but I swear
I'm not any more."
"I'm sure," Jisoo answered coolly, surprising Jungkook with how condescending
he sounded. The servant drew his blade and stepped forward again, but Jungkook
grabbed Taehyung's wrist and stood between them, eyes darkening. Jisoo stopped,
mouth twisted in a frown. "Your Highness," he snapped, surprised, and the
prince's hand tightened into a fist.
"He is telling the truth," Jungkook insisted, and his heart picked up as he
spoke. He was taking a huge risk for this man, and he had no idea why. Speaking
so much- he could mess up at any moment.
"He's just fooled you, prince, you can't believe him. You wouldn't know because
you've been sheltered your whole life, but-"
"Don't," Jungkook snapped, voice ringing louder than he'd ever dared raise it
before. "I am not a child."
Jisoo pressed his lips together, looking annoyed, and it only fueled Jungkook's
anger. He was so sick of being treated like he knew nothing, as if he was
stupid.
"You don't know this rat, he could be dangerous. You'll get yourself killed.
It's the day before your coronation, you think this is a coincidence?" Jisoo
huffed, about to reach out to move Jungkook aside, but Jungkook backed up, now
pressed against Taehyung.
"I've been seeing him for months," Jungkook blurted out, panicked. He just
hoped it wasn't audible in his voice. "I've been sneaking out since last
November."
Jungkook could have heard a pin drop.
"But- just a few days ago, you-"
"No, Jisoo." Jungkook swallowed hard. "You did. You almost kissed me."
Another loud silence. It was suffocating. Jisoo sheathed his dagger, the noise
of metal sliding on leather the only sound in the room. Jisoo stood
scrutinizing Jungkook and, behind him, Taehyung for another moment before
promptly brushing past them, closing the door harder than necessary behind him.
Jungkook let out a long, tempered breath, body sagging with the release of air.
He turned slowly, and finally got a good look at Taehyung. Just as Jungkook
thought, the man had a pretty, symmetrical face. Big eyes, a dark whiskey
color. It reminded Jungkook of the forest. Tan skin, so warm. His hair was wild
from the wind, but looked feathery and soft. They were roughly the same height.
Lanky limbs, but, as he shed Jungkook's cloak and offered it back to him, the
prince noticed his muscles were fairly toned and shoulders surprisingly broad
for his stature.
Well, Jungkook thought, accepting the cloak back and moving away to tuck it
into his trunk. Another man I find attractive. Great.
"Listen... prince-?" Jungkook shook his head, and Taehyung seemed pleasantly
surprised.
"Jungkook. Just Jungkook," Jungkook whispered, losing his voice with his waning
adrenaline, moving and taking his time folding the cloak as he put it away to
stall looking back at the man.
"I'm sorry for making that all happen. I really am telling the truth. So... I
guess, thank you for believing in me." Jungkook could hear the smile in
Taehyung's deep voice. He hid his blush.
Jungkook shook his head, like saying it was no problem. Out of the corner of
his eye, he saw Taehyung looking around in wonder. Jungkook finished up,
closing his trunk and going to sit on his bed, openly watching Taehyung. He
tensed when the man went towards his desk, where papers were hidden under
books, but Taehyung didn't touch. Only brushed everything with his gaze.
"So," Taehyung mused, making his way to a window. Jungkook's room was at a
corner of the castle, meaning he got two windows- one next to his bed, the
other on a mostly empty wall across from the door. "Is it true? You almost
kissed that guy?"
Jungkook didn't answer, looking down at his worrying hands that twisted
together and apart. When he glanced up, Taehyung was smirking knowingly.
"Do you... like him?" He teased, voice going higher and biting his lip.
Jungkook shook his head adamantly, and Taehyung giggled. It was true. He didn't
like Jisoo in that way. He realized how stupid he was being after the accident.
Jisoo was right. He was like a kid. Thinking just because it was new and makes
him feel weird that it was love or something equally as absurd. It was simple
attraction. Like, he admitted, my simple attraction for this stranger.
Taehyung.
"But you did almost kiss him?" Taehyung kept pressing, and Jungkook nodded,
huffing out a breath. So this guy's a stubborn one.
Jungkook was a little pleased. Despite speaking for Taehyung not minutes ago,
he didn't ask Jungkook to speak again to converse with him. He, like others,
accommodated. Jungkook appreciated it a lot.
Taehyung asked him little random questions while he explored the room, and
Jungkook laid on his bed, staring at the scorch mark, giving either a nod,
shrug, or shake of the head- even a playful, secretive smile at one point. He
didn't feel uncomfortable with this stranger, which was a wild concept, because
Jungkook felt uncomfortable with nearly everyone. Even Jisoo, but that was only
after the whole accident. Which, Jungkook realized, he hadn't called it the
accident before. Well, that's what it was. He'd call it as such.
Eventually, Taehyung also made his way to the bed. Luckily, it was large, and
the other man could flop down with a comfortable amount of room between him and
Jungkook. Not that he looked like he even minded. Taehyung snorted, pointing at
the scorch mark. "How the heck did that happen?" Taehyung laughed, filling up
the silence that would have followed the question had an answer been expected.
It was so odd to Jungkook, still. He'd only ever been ordered to do things-
he'd never had a real conversation. Only arguments- mostly one-sided. The
prospect that someone actually wanted to converse with a man who didn't
speak... Taehyung was such an oddity.
Taehyung rambled on for a while longer about nothing in particular. Jungkook
thought he started talking about giraffes at one point, but his voice was
slowly fading out. Or maybe Jungkook was just fading out, eyes closed, drifting
to sleep to the sound of another person's voice. It was... nice. Really nice.
Jungkook knew he couldn't get used to it, but in the moment, he let it engulf
him in warmth until he slipped into a dream.
When Jungkook woke up, the lights in his room were out. He didn't remember
that. The sun was rising, casting everything in long shadows haloed by gold.
There was a weight on his side, and gentle breaths on his neck. Somehow, in the
night, Taehyung had gravitated into Jungkook's space, and their limbs had
tangled among the sheets as he had clung to the prince like a koala. He didn't
make any move to get away. He didn't want to. It was not often that Jungkook
actually did what he wanted.
He stayed enveloped in Taehyung's body heat and the sunbeams for a long time-
so long that the sun had fully risen above the horizon. What motivated him to
finally move was the grumbling of Taehyung's stomach while he slept. If he was
honestly just a cold, tired traveler, Jungkook figured he must have been
starving.
He carefully extracted himself from the man's long, strong limbs. With the way
he was sleeping, though, Jungkook bet he could have thrown him out a window and
he wouldn't have even stirred.
Jungkook slipped from his room, hoping Taehyung slept until he returned. It
didn't take long to retrieve a plate of breakfast from the kitchens- he didn't
dare ask for two. He figured he'd be feasting at his coronation banquet later
anyways. He ran into no trouble on the way back, and when he entered the room,
Taehyung was sitting up in bed. He looked soft and warm in the sunlight,
stretching his arms above his head dramatically. Jungkook was practically
infatuated with the man and his glowing tanned skin and dark brown hair-
sticking up absolutely everywhere after his deep sleep.
Jungkook smiled when Taehyung spotted him, and carried the plate of food to the
bed, offering it with an outstretched hand.
"For me?" Taehyung asked, sounding genuinely touched, and his eyes went wide.
Jungkook nodded, setting it down in the man's lap and passing him silverware.
"What about you?" Jungkook made a flippant gesture with his hand, but Taehyung
insisted, "No, no, come on, you've got to eat, too! Who would I be if I let the
prince starve."
Jungkook was still reluctant, but Taehyung grabbed his arm and pulled him onto
the bed, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth. Jungkook let out a quiet laugh,
and Taehyung looked at him in wonder for a second before turning back to the
plate of food, smiling.
They shared the plate in silence, Jungkook taking his time on the piece of
toast he was given to make sure Taehyung got the majority of the food. It was
peaceful, being in someone else's company so early, still sleepy and rumpled.
Jungkook almost forgot what the rest of the day had in store. In fact, he did
allow himself to forget for awhile.
After eating, Jungkook and Taehyung laid back down, same distance they'd
started at the night before. They digested while the morning crept along,
sunbathing and enjoying being close to someone. Jungkook usually never left his
curtains open while he slept, but it had completely escaped his mind when going
to bed. Nor had Jungkook ever been able to sleep in anything but utter
darkness, yet the lights were on when he had drifted off. Taehyung brought many
firsts for the prince with his arrival.
He wondered... fleetingly... No, it's out of the question, he cogitated, and
rolled onto his stomach, shoving his face in his pillow. It's stupid. He didn't
want to ruin the good thing he had going with Taehyung. It would only be
lasting a short while longer anyways. Jungkook would have to start preparing
for his coronation by noon, be in the throne room by two, and by then, Taehyung
would either have to be among the crowd or gone from the palace grounds.
Jungkook wished it would have been acceptable to ask Taehyung to stay, but fact
was, the man was still a stranger, and a bandit had no place in the castle for
more than a night- not by society's rules, not by his deceased father's rules,
not even by Jisoo's rules. He wanted to be more than all their expectations. He
wanted to be himself, live by his own rules. He really did. But despite having
been able to let go for a while with Taehyung, he was still the same old scared
and scrambling and confused prince. And today, he'd become the same old scared
and scrambling and confused king.
"I feel like I know you a lot better than I really do," Taehyung admitted,
voice soft. Jungkook liked the way his strange speech changed each word, made
it prettier to his ears somehow. "I feel like I've known you for a year, not a
day. Less than that."
Jungkook understood- he felt that way about Taehyung as well. He just wondered
how Taehyung had come to feel that way about Jungkook. He never spoke- except
to Jisoo in defense of Taehyung. He didn't tell his story until Taehyung fell
asleep like he did for Jungkook. He didn't do much at all except share his bed
and give him breakfast.
"I know I'll have to leave soon. Don't want to overstay my welcome, especially
on a day like this, but... thank you, Jungkook." Taehyung sat up, and Jungkook
followed. Taehyung gave him a genuine smile that made his nose crinkle at the
bridge and his eyes go soft. There was something else- a flicker, a micro
expression, but it flit across his face too fast for Jungkook to catch. Regret?
He couldn't tell. "I should probably be going soon, right...?"
Jungkook looked down, eyebrows drawing together, and nodded. He probably looked
pathetic. He didn't care any more. He had hours before he'd be crowned king and
thrown into a world much more complicated than he's ever had to deal with
before.
"Don't want... um, Jihoon...? Jaesoo...?" Taehyung struggled for a moment.
"Jisoo," Jungkook muttered without really thinking, and Taehyung blinked,
surprised.
"Yeah. Don't want Jisoo being even more suspicious of me." Taehyung licked his
lips, almost nervously. He seemed to be holding back, and from the little
Jungkook had gained about him, it didn't seem characteristic of him. "Can you-
" He started, but cut himself off, shaking his head. "I don't want to overstep
any boundaries, I just..."
Jungkook cocked his head, and Taehyung huffed something of a laugh, but it
seemed more sheepish and embarrassed than humorous.
"Can you... say my name like that? Just once. Before I go." Jungkook's mouth
dropped open a little, and Taehyung hurried to compensate. "I mean, you don't
have to. That might have sounded weird. You just have a nice voice, and I don't
know if I'll see you again, and..." Taehyung's hands moved listlessly in the
air before dropping, defeated. "Sorry."
"I'll say your name," Jungkook spoke softly. "But I get a request, too."
Taehyung's face alighted, eyes sparkling. "Anything!"
Jungkook took his time, shifting more comfortably and setting the breakfast
plate on his bedside table. He wondered if Taehyung noticed his shaking hands.
Maybe he could have even heard the wild beating of his heart. He couldn't hold
back now, though. Hours, he reminded himself. I have mere hours left as a
young, rash prince.
Jungkook moved closer in small increments, carefully placing a supportive hand
on the bed as he leaned his body gradually forward. At first, he kept his eyes
on the bed sheets. Then he figured, fuck it, right? and looked Taehyung
straight in the eyes. Those bright, honey eyes. Jungkook didn't know brown eyes
could be such a beautiful color, have so many intermingling tones and shades.
He asked sotto voice, "Can I kiss you?"
They were already so close, there may as well have been no point in asking.
Taehyung had allowed Jungkook far into his personal space, their heads tilted
just so they didn't brush noses.
"Say my name," Taehyung teased, angling his chin closer, sliding his hand up
Jungkook's arm, then down his side. Jungkook had never felt so sensual a
moment. It scared him half to death.
"Taehyung," he practically purred, and shivered as the man's fingers brushed a
strip of skin exposed by the hem of Jungkook's shirt. He had goosebumps. He
felt like he'd either freeze over or melt entirely. He was so cold. Taehyung
was so warm.
"Say it again," Taehyung implored, leaving a chaste kiss on the corner
Jungkook's lips, so close, before drawing back to his dizzyingly close
proximity.
"T-Taehyung," Jungkook stuttered this time, voice forced a little louder. His
eyes were closed. He feared if he kept them open, his heart would burst.
"Jungkook," Taehyung returned to him, moving in once again. Jungkook wouldn't
just let him leave that time, his trembling hands grabbing Taehyung's shirt.
Taehyung kept his touching to a minimal, just that hand on Jungkook's bare
skin, driving him crazy, and a gentle cradle for the back of his head. He
kissed with hesitation at first, but Jungkook was pliant to Taehyung's will,
not wanting to do too much yet not wanting to do too little. It was terrifying.
Exhilarating.
They took it slow, and Taehyung was so gentle. Jungkook sucked in a sharp
breath as a tongue pleaded at his bottom lip. He was conscious of Taehyung's
fingers pressing to Jungkook's neck, feeling his racing pulse. He flushed,
partially embarrassed, but he felt Taehyung's smile. They parted for a moment,
and Jungkook thought it was over and opened his mouth for a breath, but
Taehyung dipped back in, taking the opportunity to lick his way past his
parting lips.
Taehyung's hand slid behind Jungkook's back, drawing his body closer as the
kiss deepened. Jungkook was practically trembling, unused to being touched let
alone so intimately. They separated, and collided back together. Their breaths
became panting. Jungkook could finally ease his grip on Taehyung's shirt, and
instead folded them around his neck. They kept each other close between each
heated, languid kiss. Jungkook wondered if they'd ever stop- didn't care if
they never did. Honestly, he was on the verge of arousal, which scared the shit
out of him. He knew nothing more would happen- he was too conflicted with
himself to make any decision like that with a clear head.
Taehyung suddenly leaned into Jungkook, but followed it by pulling himself
away. Jungkook was half suspended, only held up by Taehyung's hands behind him.
He was slowly brought up again, eyes locked on Taehyung's, whose pupils were
blown. The man breathed hard, and had a feral sort of look to him until he
closed his eyes, took in a few deep inhales, and seemed to relax.
"Sorry," he murmured, which confused Jungkook. He had absolutely nothing to be
sorry for. "Had to stop before I allowed myself too much of what you were
offering." Taehyung raised his gaze, and Jungkook was smiling softly. He must
have looked a mess, judging by how he saw Taehyung- dark eyes, reddened lips,
rumpled shirt.
"Don't be sorry," Jungkook decided to tell him, voice ever the gentle, soft
tone. "Was I... okay?" Concern darted through his mind, but then Taehyung gave
that sly grin of his.
"You're a natural."
Jungkook let out a relieved little laugh, and tightened his arms behind
Taehyung's neck, liking the way it felt to hold onto someone. "You speak so
oddly."
Taehyung shrugged, wearing an easy expression. "Nah, you hear a few people with
similar dialect around the towns."
Jungkook bit his lip, and slid his hands to Taehyung's shoulders. "You've
traveled a lot, then."
"I've been all over- except for the mountains. You can't really just wander
around there. Too dangerous, with the unpredictable weather and Kim's tight
kingdom security. If someone like me even got close to his domain..." Taehyung
pretends to shiver violently, and the motion finally shakes the hold the two
had on each other. Taehyung leant back against the headboard, folding his arms,
a dark look crossing his face. "Who knows?"
Jungkook had heard little of the other kings, just where the borders of their
kingdoms were. He knew that his own kingdom was the largest since the Jeons
claimed the entirety of the forest, but he had the fewest citizens- even less
than the mountain king- King Kim Seokjin, who had the smallest territory,
technically, but his peoples' homes were merged into the mountainside, some of
them even beneath the earth in what Jungkook remembered were called the
inverted apartments. The thought of those always seemed dangerous and slightly
terrifying to him. To the west of both his and King Kim's kingdoms, along the
cliffs on the edge of the large island continent they all shared as rulers, the
Jung and Gim kingdoms were split. The cliffs were more like two large cities
while Jungkook and King Kim had towns and villages scattered throughout their
terrain. There was hardly a distinction between King Jung Hoseok's and King Gim
Namjoon's territories, just a mile or so of uninhabited plains that they called
the Grey. They were friendly with each other, so the Grey was kind of their
mutual space. Where the island ended to the east was officially Jeon land,
where the forest sloped downwards and gave way to a thin strip of beach, where
a tribe Jungkook's family had trouble with lived.
"Have you never been outside of your kingdom?" Taehyung asked after watching
him for a while, eating his breakfast again quietly.
"Not even outside the palace walls," Jungkook answered honestly, making
Taehyung blanch.
"What?! The king never took you along for business?" Jungkook shook his head.
"Or just for vacation?" Jungkook shook his head again. "Or to visit your
people, for God's sake?!"
Jungkook sighed, and felt his anger towards his father well up in him again. He
swallowed it. "No. I wasn't allowed."
"Wasn't allowed?!" Taehyung sat up straighter, in actual outrage. "That's just
insane! Your father seemed like a reasonable ruler."
"The way a king rules does not necessarily reflect his personality. My father
taught me that from a young age. But..." Jungkook noticed Taehyung's expression
growing more absurd and quieted himself.
"That's it. I'm showing you the world. Maybe not today, maybe not soon, but one
day," Taehyung said with a fierce determination that made Jungkook's chest well
up with something unfamiliar. "Got it?"
"Got it," is all Jungkook could reply with, grinning too hard. A knock on the
door made it fade, however. Jungkook hefted himself from the bed and opened the
door, any trace of happiness being quelled by a nervousness when he saw Jisoo.
The servant had a schooled expression, and, looking past Jungkook, regarded
Taehyung with something like distaste.
"Prince. Please escort your... guest from the palace and begin preparing for
your coronation."
Oh, how Jungkook wished he could tell him I'll do whatever I god damn please-
but that was inappropriate, especially using the lord's name in such a way.
Jungkook was beginning to feel really trapped in his life.
He gave a nod, waiting for Jisoo to walk away. Once he was gone, Jungkook
closed his door again, and rested his forehead on the cool wood. He didn't hear
Taehyung approach, footsteps probably featherlight out of habit from his rat
days, so Jungkook jolted when there was suddenly a warm, soothing hand rubbing
circles at the base of his spine. He relaxed quickly, though, the motion
releasing his tension. He let out an audible sigh of content, making Taehyung
huff a tiny laugh.
"My mum used to do this for me whenever I was stressed or anxious. Helps,
doesn't it?" Taehyung asked casually, but it struck at Jungkook's heartstrings.
With his messed up life, he forgot that having a mother was normal. He wondered
what it was like, besides reassuring back rubs.
"Thank you," Jungkook whispered, finding the strength to stand up straight
again. Taehyung went for the door, but Jungkook stopped him and moved towards
his clothes trunk, retrieving a spare winter cloak. Taehyung stood, silently
waiting in confusion, until Jungkook wrapped it around his shoulders much like
he had the night before.
"Jungkook, I- you don't need to give me this," Taehyung insisted, trying to
take it off and return it, but Jungkook grabbed his hand gently. Looking the
other man in the eyes, he conveyed a silent command. Keep it. Taehyung
swallowed, lips quivering before they formed into a grateful smile. "Thank
you."
They left the room together, walking much closer to each other than the
paranoid space Jungkook had left between them the previous night. Their
shoulders bumped companionably, and Jungkook enjoyed it. They came upon the
front gates far too soon.
The guards in their towers cranked open the gates for them, but Taehyung
hesitated. He turned, facing Jungkook, and took hold of his hands. Jungkook
tilted his head, puzzled by Taehyung's urgent expression. "Jungkook..."
Jungkook waited for something more, but Taehyung only stood there, lips parted,
not speaking.
"Taehyung?" Jungkook questioned, and the small utter of the man's name seemed
to have made him relax.
"Be careful," is all Taehyung said, cheeks flushed. He then looked around
before giving Jungkook a quick kiss on the lips, immediately bounding off
afterwards. Jungkook couldn't help the grin that pushed at the corners of his
mouth, and covered it with his hands, which were cold against his face. He
remembered Taehyung's warmth, though, and felt it lingering inside him from the
morning spent close together with the man.
I'm so totally screwed, Jungkook thought.
~~~
Who knew a royal coronation would bore Jungkook out of his mind. The anxiety he
had felt prior grew to such a crescendo as he was sitting upon the throne,
waiting as important noblemen and cabinet members filed in, that it made him
numb. He was buzzing with it all, yes, and there was a dull ringing in his ears
that drowned out the chatter of the guests, but he couldn't actually feel
anything. His heart was calm, his hands were steady- but he's pretty sure
that's just because they fell asleep and were filled with pins and needles. As
the ceremony actually started, Jungkook was mostly unconcerned. He vaguely felt
the delicate crown placed on his head. Then- he was gestured to stand, and
handed a scepter.
This was where things got difficult for him.
He couldn't read lips. He was supposed to repeat the words of the man before
him- his military commander, Mingyu, Jungkook recognized. But, how was he
supposed to do that when his ears were ringing above everything else?
Also, by standing, his blood felt weird in his body, and he feared he might
pass out. That would be bad, he thought, but his inner voice seemed small and
far away. He stared at the commander, eyes unfocused so much that he saw two
heads on the man instead of one. That meant two sets of lips to read when the
time came to repeat after him- and Jungkook knew it would be any minute. Has a
king ever actually died during his own coronation? Perhaps I'll be the first,
Jungkook thought.
Funny, he also mused. I thought that in this moment, it would be the prospect
of having to speak that would terrify me. But no. Now I fear dying. Just
falling over dead for no good reason.
"King Jeon Jungkook," he heard the commander as if through incredibly thick
glass. Jungkook felt sweat on his forehead and hoped it wasn't noticeable to
the people watching. He hoped he didn't look as ill as he felt. "We will now
recite your promise of fulfillment of your royal duties in your years to come.
Repeat after me. I-"
~~~
Jungkook came to about six hours later, sitting in a warm bath he didn't
remember filling, holding his crown he didn't remember removing. He looked down
into the water, and felt discouraged to find he was still clothed in his green
and gold coronation apparel, and had apparently forgotten to strip. Everything
previous to that moment, sitting in the bath, was a hazy blur. He had no idea
what he had done during his promise of fulfillment, or the ceremonies
afterwards, or the grand feast- and that was highly concerning to him
considering he was sitting in a hot bath fully dressed. Even his boots were
still on.
He placed his crown carefully on the ground beside the bath, and shamefully
removed his clothing, tossing them to the floor where they landed with wet
slaps. Once he was fully naked, he closed his eyes and held his breath, sinking
below the surface of the water. It was a bit too hot on his sensitive face and
neck, but he didn't let that stop him. He reopened his eyes underwater, and
watched as he released a long line of bubbles from his parted mouth, rippling
the already distorted surface above him. He remained under the water until he
ran out of air, and then some, but eventually forced himself up and took deep
breaths, coughing a little.
So. He was king.
It was... lackluster, really. He knew he should have thought better, but he
still half expected to feel like some sort of new, sophisticated, sensible man
once he gained the hefty title. Instead, he felt like a kid again, trying to
fit in his father's large boots and stumbling around, bumping into tables and
hurting himself until someone had to help him. It was fun back then, humorous
even. That playful bond was such a short period in his life, his father seeming
to have cut off so harshly and strictly once he reached six years of age, and
he'd always cherished the better times. But in the present, it was the worst
feeling in the world to Jungkook. Would the other kings, who were visiting in
just a few short days, see him as his father had back then? As a stupid,
laughable toddler trying to fill shoes much too large for him? Would they pin
him as weak and immature, and try to take over his kingdom? Would they turn his
own cabinet against him and make them deem him unworthy of his title, and have
it passed along to an unrelated duke or court member for the first time in the
Jeon history?
All these thoughts spun like a maddening, endless top in Jungkook's mind, until
he once again sank under the water and repeated his release of bubbles, holding
his breath, counting how long he could do it in his head just to occupy it with
anything else. The burning it caused in his lungs felt good to him in the
moment. The longest he could go was one minute and thirty seconds. He'd
resurface, gasping and coughing until his throat hurt, but he'd keep doing it.
He was pretty sure he remembered reading about some form of torture method that
was similar to what he was doing to himself- except he didn't quite go long
enough to nearly black out or inhale water. Despite his enormous fears, he did
not wish to die or harm himself.
After a while of his mini torture on himself, and he sat panting in the
lukewarm baths, he focused on the rapid pace of his struggling heart and told
himself, one day at a time. Take it one day at a time for now. Then start
planning your future as king.
He rolled his shoulders, letting them relax. He reached for his soaps and
shampoos, washing his hair and body quickly, wanting to get out. He'd started
to feel a little suffocated and uncomfortable. It felt nice to be out, his damp
skin making the air feel cool. He let himself lean against a wall for an
extended moment, regaining all the breath he'd lost, before calmly wrapping a
towel around his waist and exiting the baths, walking quickly to his room
nearby.
He laid on his bed, not in the mood to dress, reading that book he'd discarded
to the bottom of his trunk so many years ago. It was written in Latin, which he
had become a little rough on having focused more on fighting and politics in
the months leading to his father's death, but it wasn't hard to recall since
he'd been learning it since he was a child. He found the page with the poem
that made him hide it away, and touched the word sunshine.
I can be the sunlight in this palace, he thought, letting his eyes close,
imagining it. I can take away the cold.
~~~
Jungkook's first week as king was hectic, to say the least. He realized he was
inconveniencing the castle servants by going where he pleased, and forced
himself to sit on his throne for hours every day. There was nothing major going
on in the kingdom, which meant there were no really important matters, but
Jungkook had made it public that he would allow letters be sent to him with
issues or requests, and he was almost immediately flooded with them. They
slowed after the first three days, but he still had many to read. He could only
skim them if he wanted any time in the day for himself, but he did read them
all, and took notes of highly requested changes and things he was interested in
doing for people. He considered himself lucky that his kingdom wasn't huge,
which made reading all the letters sent to him possible.
He still had yet to speak. He only spoke once, during his coronation- or, so he
was told. That was around the part where his mind blinked out for a while.
There weren't many complaints about it, though, since he appointed what he
dubbed the court Hermes, a man he hired named Seokmin, who basically became the
official messenger and public announcer.
Jungkook also had yet to make hard-hitting decisions. He'd been giving some
advice on growing for his kingdom's farmers, since he'd read a lot about plants
growing up. They'd always made him feel more a part of the forest. But giving
that advice gave him an idea- one he was hesitant to express.
The forest people had never been the most educated out of all the kingdoms. The
entire Jeon line instilled in them that it was mostly a king's job to be
educated, and schooling stopped at the sixth grade for common folk. Jungkook
wanted more for them. He grew up loving learning, and he wanted his people to
love it, too. He wanted to give them a choice to continue their education. He
wanted to build a library, as a start.
It was practically controversial in the forest kingdom- but that's only because
the previous kings forced it to be so. He wanted to consult someone about it,
and it was moments like that when he wished he still trusted Jisoo enough to
share his thoughts. It was so dreadfully lonely. Then again, he supposed it had
always been like that, it was just Taehyung's brief presence that had changed
it all. He hadn't really let himself stop and pine for the man. It was better
that way, he knew.
Two days before the meeting between kingdoms, and Jungkook knew he had to do
something. Everything he'd done all week was little, almost insignificant, and
he knew the kings would only treat him like his father if he didn't choose a
side, do something that mattered, something big. That was where the library
came in. He was battling with himself, though, almost frantically. He'd ordered
the court Hermes to the throne room a half hour ago, and he stood waiting
patiently while Jungkook held his head, mind racing.
"King Jeon?"
Jungkook hated that. Jungkook hated that a lot.
"He prefers King Jungkook," the Hermes corrects the speaker.
"Er, right... King Jungkook?"
Jungkook dragged his head up, blinking weariness from his eyes, and was
confused to find a strange woman in front of him. Bandages covered a good
majority of her face, and her bowed head and long black hair kept her eyes
hidden. Jungkook could only make out her lips, a gentle shape, and her
uncovered left cheek, beautifully bronzy. Jungkook shared a look with the
Hermes, and he nodded, understanding Jungkook's puzzlement.
"State your name and purpose, miss," the Hermes ordered.
"My name is Hyuna, and I am sent from the West City," she stated. That means-
"King Hoseok entrusted me with informing you that he can no longer attend the
meeting between kingdoms, for he is ill."
Jungkook stiffened, and his hand unconsciously squeezed the arm of the throne.
"Thank you, Miss Hyuna, send your Highness the forest's best regards-"
"Will he recover?" Jungkook spoke suddenly, eyes downcast, cutting off the
Hermes, whose mouth slowly closed in surprise. He noticed Hyuna also jolted a
bit.
"Yes," she assured him, and he could see a hint of a smile on her mouth. "It is
minor, but his fatigue will prevent him from traveling."
"Of course. Thank you. Tell him I wish him well," Jungkook said sincerely, and
watched as the woman turned and left, her small body consumed by beautiful blue
fabric. Once she had left, Jungkook looked at the Hermes. Normally, he would
write down a direct order- but the damage is already done for today, he
figures. "I'm going to build a public library."
Chapter End Notes
     Of course I had to add Hyuna, I love Hyuna, fight me on it.
     Also, taekook. You're welcome.
     Title from Fame by Mree :)
     ~MC
***** I've Spent Too Long Blind *****
Chapter Notes
     Merry Christmas :)
     I finished a chapter last night, putting me even farther ahead of my
     work, so have this gift.
     If you're anything like me, you'll be reading fanfiction instead of
     socializing with your relatives.
     Happy holidays, whatever you celebrate, if anything!
     Title from Bare by Wildes.
     ~MC
See the end of the chapter for more notes
"Situations are as dire as we thought," the man reported, clutching his cloak
close to himself in the cold.
The leader, with thin, graceful draping clothing and seeming unfazed, nodded
and rubbed his face, clearly stressed. "How much time?" No answer. "How much
time do we have?" He snapped again, and the woman struggled to come up with an
answer.
"Until the kings leave, I imagine. Maybe a few days afterwards, but-"
"We shouldn't risk it," the man puts in.
The leader was silent for a long moment. "Alright. We need another
intervention. We need the kings to stay as long as possible. Gim won't make a
move, right?"
"No. He wants to, he just- King Hoseok advised him not to. You know how they
are," the woman answered.
"That's fine. I'd prefer it be Seokjin- or, King Kim." The leader shook his
head, brushing off the mistake. "Return quickly and tell me what I have to work
with."
The woman nodded, and began untying her horse from its tree. They all paused as
they heard the clattering of many more horses approaching.
"King Hoseok- it must be-"
"Hurry. Go."
"What about me?" The man asked in panic, habitually moving away from the source
of the sound.
"Stay with me for now. We'll set up camp a few kilometers from the palace." He
looked to the woman, who was on her horse. "Find us. Now go."
She nodded curtly, and took off at a canter as the man and his leader
disappeared further into the forest kingdom.
~~~
King Gim arrived long before King Kim did, which Jungkook found... odd,
considering the forest lied just at the base of the mountain kingdom. On clear
days, Jungkook could spot King Kim's palace, or at least a portion of it,
resting on the peaks.
King Gim- "Namjoon," he had insisted upon meeting, was quite obviously wary of
Jungkook. But he'd held out a hand, and Jungkook nodded, shaking it.
"He also prefers his first name," the Hermes supplied for him. For the first
time in his life, Jungkook was embarrassed by his lack of speech, but in such a
situation, it was still too risky to allow himself to talk. He knew it was
making Namjoon even more suspicious, but Jungkook thought he might throw up if
he tried to say anything. The inconvenience of him not speaking was far better
than creating a mess with his words, he thought. He did smile, though, which
Namjoon regarded strangely, making it fall just as fast.
To save himself a terrible silence, he gestured towards Namjoon vaguely to the
Hermes, who called on one of the castle staff by the edge of the room to lead
the King of the East to his room. Traveling between the forest and city
kingdoms was quite the trip, especially since part of the small mountain range
cut through the forest, and made a sort of semicircular barrier around the
general area of Jungkook's palace. Because of this, King Kim sent out a letter
suggesting they stay overnight, and Jungkook felt like he had no choice but to
agree.
Jungkook sort of wished there were more than just four kings on the island,
especially since King Jung was unable to go. He knew at least him and Namjoon
got along, but things were always tedious between the the cities and the other
two kingdoms. He didn't know what to expect from the night's welcoming feast.
It would be the three of them, sat at one end with Jungkook at the head, and
any soldiers or companions they'd decided to bring. It would be awkward. Tense,
even.
Jungkook slumped in his throne a little. To be honest, he'd grown pretty fond
of the large silver chair. The blue material on the seat of it was comfortable,
and it was big enough that Jungkook could take nearly any position and still
fit nicely. He tried not to lay across it with his legs over the arm too often,
but in truth, it was the best position to be in. He sat normally at the moment,
though, chin on his hand, looking around at the strange art his father had put
up. There were depictions of bones underwater, light-skinned women working with
animals, a tall painting of a tree. Just a tree. As if there weren't a myriad
outside.
Footsteps rushing towards the throne platform made Jungkook turn his gaze away
from the paintings, and he found the young lady from the day before back again,
Hyuna. She was flushed and breathing heavily, but still kept her head down. Her
bandages were falling from her face a little, but not enough to reveal any more
skin. "King Jungkook, I have more recent word from King Hoseok. His fever has
gone and he's decided to make the journey, but he won't make it until late
tonight, so he wants to ask you- apologetically- if you would extend your
hospitality a second night so you all have plenty of time to talk," she panted,
sounding sheepish.
Well, Jungkook thought, another full day of awkwardness. What was he to do to
entertain two kings who, from what he'd been told, seemed to have no common
interests?
The Hermes was looking at him, and once again, he felt aggravatingly obligated
to say yes. He knew his father never would have stood for it and given a
blatant no, but Jungkook had come to terms with the fact that he didn't have to
be like his father as king. Jungkook nodded once, and the Hermes relayed the
approval aloud. A few moments after Hyuna had left, Namjoon reentered the
throne room, this time taking a look around as he strolled slowly towards the
throne. Jungkook noticed he was wearing very plain clothes- still with a royal
touch, but surprisingly simple. A dark grey shirt, long-sleeved for the colder
months, though it was warm in the castle so he'd left his cloak in his room
probably. Black trousers. Tall boots with silver buckles at the top. He wore
his crown, which shocked Jungkook a little. He knew that crowns were just a
symbol, and that if it was stolen it meant nothing for the person who obtained
it (though Jungkook supposed they could sell it). Still, Jungkook's father had
never worn the forest crown. Even now, Jungkook sat with a bare head.
"So," Namjoon started, coming to a stop at the foot of the steps leading to
Jungkook, done with surveying the room. The king had dark, neat hair, parted
tastefully to keep his face clear. His eyes, while seeming inquisitive and
wise, were unconcerned. "Word is you're building a public library. The first
recreational structure the forest has seen since the start of the Jeon line."
Jungkook's heart was pounding a little with nervousness, but Namjoon was
nodding his head in approval. Jungkook shrugged noncommittally, as if it was no
big deal. It was. They both knew it was.
"I hope this means a progressive era for the kingdom," Namjoon continued
sincerely, clasping his hands behind his back. "It's needed it for a long time
now." Jungkook nodded slowly, eyebrows drawing together. The silence was
terrifying. Namjoon sighed, eyeing the Hermes briefly before going up a few
steps. "Listen, I know this was sudden and you're probably a bit nervous about
how your people will react to you. That's why we wanted to come meet you. To
guide you. You'll always have help, from me at least."
Jungkook raised his eyes, cautious, but Namjoon's expression held utter truth
to it. He caught the Hermes about to speak, but held his palm towards him,
stopping him. Instead, he reached towards Namjoon, who reached back, and
clasped his hand tightly for a moment. They each gave a small smile, Namjoon's
being surprisingly sweet and dimpled, and released each other.
Namjoon cleared his throat, trying to wipe away his grin. "Well, do I get a
grand tour, or...?"
Jungkook rolled his eyes playfully, already feeling oddly at ease with Namjoon.
The man's words had sated him, and he was grateful. He rose from his throne,
walking down the steps past Namjoon, beckoning vaguely with his hand. He showed
him all the places he loved, like the dazzling ballroom and the library and the
courtyard with planted rosebushes that he himself used to care for when he was
younger with more free time. He showed him all the places he hated, too- but
didn't express that to him. The hall of portraits, his father's office which
was technically Jungkook's by then, the meeting room where the royal court
judged him while the Hermes spoke for him.
As for the tour, the Hermes had stayed behind in case King Kim arrived while
they were gone, so they were simply walking around the palace in a comfortable
silence. Namjoon would compliment something every now and then, or make a joke
about the decorating. He also found some of the paintings to be a bit weird. By
the time they reached the throne room again, the Hermes was nowhere in sight,
but King Kim was traipsing around alone, making their steps falter.
Jungkook glanced around, brain assuming the absolute worst- murder? Already?
But the Hermes returned not a second later, smiling apologetically. "Ah, sorry,
King Jungkook. I was sending someone to look for you, but you seem to have
returned on your own. King Kim has arrived, and his bags have been taken to his
room," he reported, and Jungkook dismissed him with a grateful nod.
King Kim, who was tracing the arm of Jungkook's throne curiously, finally
turned and looked at the other two kings. His red cloak swept around him
dramatically, and the man was the spitting image of classic royalty. Adorned in
reds, blacks, and cream colors, neat brown hair, plush pink lips, calculative
brown eyes- they were immediately more unnerving than Jungkook's father's had
ever been, and that was a feat. A soft yet regal expression graced the man's
features. He was broad-shouldered and tall, yet elegant in an inexplicable way-
perhaps by how he carried himself or his angular body, but Jungkook couldn't
truly pin it.
He smiled, and it sent a shiver down Jungkook's spine that he had to repress.
There was something missing in that close-lipped smirk. Something vacant. "Ah,"
he spoke, "King Gim. Pleasure to see you again." His gaze shifted to Jungkook,
who felt almost exposed under the intensity of it. King Kim nodded towards him.
"King Jeon."
"Come on, now," Namjoon played along with the mountain king's cool act, "we're
all royalty here, we should be on a first name basis, Jin."
King Kim's jaw set, but his otherwise passive and collected face remained
stony. "If you insist, then please at least have the respect to call me my full
name, Namjoon," he spit the eastern king's name back at him, but Namjoon seemed
only pleased by it.
"Of course, Seokjin."
There was a drawn out silence. Namjoon and... Seokjin, Jungkook supposed he
could call him, were in a stare off of sorts. The Hermes cleared his throat,
and the two turned their heads, Seokjin raising a high arching eyebrow. It was
almost impressive to Jungkook.
"King Jung has requested you both stay an extra night, for he will be delayed
and not arrive until very late. You are open to use the baths, and feel free to
ask me personally if you need extra clothes. Servants will be around if you
need anything else, as well."
The other kings stared silently for a moment, until Namjoon shrugged. Seokjin's
expression twisted in slight annoyance, but he said, with his air of
properness, "Very well. I'll have to write to my temporary supervisor."
"That will be no problem. Let any one of us know when, and we will make sure to
provide you with materials and a messenger."
Seokjin didn't give a thank you, but tilted his head in acknowledgement.
Jungkook was so intrigued by the man. While his father had mostly been strict
with airs of politeness, Seokjin's is stern with airs of... not rudeness,
really, but something more like free will. He'd do what he wanted to do,
nothing more and nothing less.
And Namjoon- Namjoon was entirely different from his father and King Seokjin.
He was lenient and seemed to have pride in being genuinely himself, even as a
king, who was usually expected to be guarded and have only the personality the
people expected from him.
Jungkook could only imagine what King Jung would be like. He'd heard from
mutterings between palace maids that he had dyed hair. Not only was that odd
for common folk, but practically- no, definitely unheard of for a king. He
wondered what color it was...
Seokjin snapped him out of his reverie, having spoken once the Hermes had
shuffled off at the request of an architect- presumably for the library.
"So," Seokjin mused, going down a few steps, but keeping himself above Jungkook
and Namjoon. An obvious power play, but the mountain king didn't seem to care
if he was being upfront with it. "It's true, then. The forest king is a mute."
Jungkook frowned. He's been called mute before, and it was never a teasing
accusation- not even from Seokjin- but the Hermes had always been there to make
excuses for him. Now he stood before Seokjin and Namjoon, who was also
interested even if he was trying to hide it, and all he could do was shake his
head.
Seokjin raised an eyebrow once again, but, to Jungkook's surprise, didn't ask
him to speak for him. He relaxed a little at this. Just like Namjoon, he
accepted it and let it go after addressing it once. Even Namjoon seemed a
little shocked by Seokjin's response, giving the man an incredulous look. It
was pointed, and accusing, as if he expected Seokjin to have some ulterior
motive. Jungkook didn't care for the moment. He was just... tired, he supposed,
and at least relieved he didn't have to try to explain himself.
"He's still better conversation than you," Namjoon muttered under his breath,
almost making Jungkook let slip a grin. Seokjin obviously heard, but pretended
not to. Jungkook thought for a second that things wouldn't be so bad.
~~~
Dinner was surprisingly okay.
The food tasted amazing, of course- Jungkook's always appreciated his kitchen
staff's talent, and that night was no exception. They had a large banquet with
marinated steaks, chicken, delicious breads, rice, vegetables. The few soldiers
Namjoon and Seokjin had brought, as well as the two men themselves, muttered
their approval of the meal. So, in actuality, dinner was good- it was the
atmosphere was just okay.
Jungkook had been trying to keep an open mind about Seokjin, just to give him
the benefit of the doubt, even though he knew there some unconventional...
"things" he did that put him in tensions with the cliffs. Turned out, the man
wasn't much of the monster he was made out to be. Not at all, really. He was
proper and stoic when speaking to them all day, but as he allowed himself to
get comfortable with the palace and enjoy a nice meal (as well as get some wine
in his belly), he became someone almost entirely different.
There was still the guardedness about him, and Jungkook sometimes felt Namjoon
was walking on eggshells trying to make lighthearted conversation, but the
three kings ended up laughing over a story Seokjin's head knight told-
Chaeyoung, an extremely charismatic woman who had some wild experiences up her
sleeve. Seokjin even told a story of his own, from when he first became king at
the age of twenty-one. Apparently he was nervous and drank a bit too much of
the celebratory champagne at the coronation feast and almost proposed to a
complete stranger because he used to think kingdoms were nothing without a
queen.
That bit made Jungkook's stomach drop a little, considering the Jeon line
treated queens like nothing but machines, expendable and with only one purpose,
but he didn't let that dampen the mood. He just reminded himself, I can be
different. It was doubtful, but hopeful, so he didn't dwell on the thought. So
he laughed.
He was the most surprised by Namjoon, completely losing it, nearly falling to
tears in his laughter. He did have quite a bit of alcohol in him, though.
Still, it was comforting to Jungkook to see Namjoon, who previously said he did
not get along with Seokjin very well, laughing with the other man. Jungkook
kept his faith in Seokjin for that.
When the dessert came out, Namjoon groaned. "Jungkook, you're going to make me
fat," he complained with an easy grin, but reached for a cut piece of pie
anyways. "Hoseok's missing out."
"Perhaps he'll make it before dessert is over," Seokjin suggested, shrugging
like he didn't care either way. He went for all chocolate dishes, which
Jungkook approved of. The man certainly knew how to eat.
Hoseok did not, in fact, make it before dessert was over. The others ate well,
though, and lounged together in one of Jungkook's personal favorite sitting
rooms. A large fireplace kept them warm and made them drowsy, adding to their
impending food comas, but Jungkook was determined to greet his final guest once
he arrived. The Hermes let Namjoon and Seokjin know they could go off to bed,
but both declined. While Namjoon half dozed in a large, black leather armchair,
Jungkook and Seokjin sat on opposite ends of a long matching couch, too sleepy
for the silence to be awkward or uncomfortable.
"Your palace is beautiful," the mountain king commented, his prim speech from
before more loose and conversational.
Jungkook could only shrug in response. It was, that could not be denied, but
Jungkook still loathed it a little. Even beauty could be hated. Especially
beauty could be hated.
"It's odd, though, all the blues and whites. A stark contrast from the rest of
your kingdom," he also noted, and Jungkook lifted his head a bit at that,
nodding in agreement. So, he noticed. "Mine is similar- it contrasts the
environment. It favors the color red, and has softer lighting." Jungkook
allowed a small, acknowledging smile, and Seokjin caught it. "I think you'd
like my palace." Then, with a tilt of his head, as if he was shocking himself
by saying, "You should visit sometime."
Jungkook's eyebrows shot up, incredulous eyes glued to Seokjin's profile. The
other king didn't look at him, though. His gaze remained on the fire, lighting
his features with that soft, warm glow that Jungkook's so fond of. It caught in
Seokjin's hair and eyes, an ever-shifting dance of light and shadow.
Enrapturing. Jungkook tore his eyes away, and looked into the fire as well. He
gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, but he knew Seokjin saw it in his
peripheral.
Part of Jungkook feared he was being naïve, after all he'd heard about Seokjin.
The other part of him believed in second chances, and was sated enough that
Jungkook was conscious and weary about it. And one teeny, tiny remaining part
of him was thinking, maybe Seokjin just needs someone who believes in him.
He closed his eyes, and basked in the warm room for a moment. Except,
apparently a moment had become an hour, and he was woken. It was alarming,
blinking his eyes open to a pair of chocolaty irises. He sucked in a breath,
and sat up a little too quickly, almost knocking right into Seokjin, who put a
stabilizing hand on his shoulder.
"King Jungkook," he addressed him formerly, probably having also gotten a shock
from his abrupt reaction. For the first time, Seokjin seemed to stumble over
his words a little. "I, uh- King Jung will be delayed for about another two
hours. Namjoon has already gone to bed." Jungkook's gaze shifted past Seokjin,
to the armchair where Namjoon had been snoring in gently seemingly not long
ago. It was empty, the imprint of a body in the soft leather still slowly
lifting out. "I figured you'd also want to get to bed before it got too late."
Jungkook looked back at Seokjin, and found his face carefully neutral. Jungkook
nodded, trying to stifle a yawn but failing, and Seokjin's lips twitched. The
other king backed off, and seeming to think, held out his hand. Jungkook
couldn't help but stare at it for a moment. It was a big hand, with long,
nimble fingers. Rugged lines crossed his palm, and Jungkook caught a glimpse of
a scar disappearing into his sleeve. He took the offered hand, and felt immense
strength behind it as Seokjin pulled him to his feet. Jungkook wobbled a bit,
legs not yet as awake as his brain, but released Seokjin's hand before it got
weird.
"Are you okay?" The man asked, cracking a tiny glimmer of a smirk. Huh,
Jungkook thought. Well isn't that something. Seokjin nodded towards the door,
but waited for Jungkook to walk with him. "Come on. Did you have too much
wine?"
Jungkook shrugged, shook his head. He put his thumb and forefinger close
together. He hadn't drank much at all, only half a glass maybe. Jungkook never
really liked alcohol. He would sip it for guests, but it just wasn't for him,
so he'd never even bothered to try anything harder.
"Not a fan?" Seokjin guessed, taking a second to judge his expression before
beginning the walk to their rooms. "Me neither, after that whole proposal
incident, though I'll drink a glass to be polite. Namjoon, on the other
hand..." Seokjin trailed off, pressing his mouth into a semi-amused line.
Jungkook let out a soft chuckle, mostly just breath, but it caught Seokjin's
attention. He tilted his head at the young king, but didn't comment. Once
again, Jungkook was very grateful he didn't touch the subject of his silence
like so many others tried to do.
They climbed two flights of stairs in silence, until they reached the hallway
with all the guest rooms. Seokjin stopped, realizing where they'd gotten. "Oh."
He cleared his throat, eyebrows furrowing a little. "You didn't have to... walk
me here."
Jungkook parted his lips slightly, and no look of disappointment crossed
Seokjin's face when he closed them again. Alright, he thought, and gestured for
the man to follow him down the hall. Faith has been kept so far.
They went to the very end, past all the guest doors, where there was one set of
double doors on the adjacent wall. He took a key from his pocket and opened
them, walking in backwards and watching Seokjin's reaction as he followed
Jungkook into the room, looking around with unabated curiosity. "The king's
bedroom is in the guest corridor?" Seokjin queried, and immediately found
himself to Jungkook's bookshelves, which were in reaching distance of his desk.
Jungkook moved with him, sliding his hand over a stack of papers on the desk to
hide the notes and ideas he'd made for his kingdom. He still couldn't judge how
Seokjin would feel about his, as Namjoon said, "progressive" plans. That was,
if Jungkook had the courage to try them.
"You're a reader," Seokjin commented, more of a statement than a question.
Judging by the amounts of books that were on his shelves and every other
available surface of the room, it was a valid- and correct- assumption, even if
he had been falling behind his usual reading as of late. He nodded, and Seokjin
picked a book at random- a Latin poetry book. Catullus. Jungkook got a dry
mouth upon remembering the first time he'd read some particular poems of his.
For an Ancient Roman, Catullus had quite a... colorful vocabulary. "And you
know multiple languages," was all Seokjin said to it, though, eyes scanning the
titles Jungkook had in Korean, English, French, German, Latin. He sent a smile
over his shoulder at Jungkook. "Je suis impressionné."
Jungkook was grateful Seokjin had turned back around quickly, because he felt
his cheeks flare up a little. He'd always loved French- all the Romance
languages, really. For some reason, though, French in particular reminded him
of his mother. Perhaps she had taught him the beginnings of the language when
he was still a developing toddler- he had no idea. He'd liked the way it
sounded coming from his soft spoken teacher's mouth, with her high and gentle
voice. Jungkook admitted it sounded twice as nice from the voice of the
mountain king.
"It's kind of odd." Seokjin put the Catullus book back, and plucked out another
one. "The king's room is with the guests?"
Oh, how Jungkook wished he could explain easily. It would be simple if he had
the courage to speak.
"Unless- is this technically a room for the prince?" Seokjin inquired, figuring
it out and letting Jungkook feel satisfied. He nodded when Seokjin turned for
confirmation. "Ah. Well, I can see why you'd want to remain in it." Seokjin's
eyes traveled the room once more, lingering on Jungkook's plush bed under the
window at the far end, and the trunk at the foot of it. "Anyways, may I borrow
this for my stay here?" Jungkook looked at the book he held up, and-
His heart caught in his throat. It was a book he'd thought he'd hidden well
among the shelves, to keep it from his father. Was this purposeful on Seokjin's
part? Jungkook suddenly doubted his faith in the man. He doesn't... know, does
he? He thought, panicking silently, all in the span of a second.
Jungkook nodded quickly, and took a step aside, very obviously clearing the way
of the doors. Seokjin got the message, and took a step towards the hall, but
paused. He tilted his head. "Have you read this one?" Jungkook considered
lying. He didn't. He nodded once, subtly. "Perhaps you can recommend me
something like it when I finish. It's hard to find classic books of such...
theme."
Seokjin left calmly, and as soon as he was a good ways down the hallway,
Jungkook closed his doors and leaned against them, holding his breath. How does
he know? His mind was racing, frantic. Does Namjoon know? Did they discuss it
while I slept? Is that why he left Seokjin to deal with me?
He pushed himself off the door to instead pace the length of his room. His
room, where he'd read classic books of such theme. His room, where he almost
kissed Jisoo. His room, where he actually kissed Taehyung. His room, where King
Seokjin casually borrowed a book that blatantly focused on homosexual
characters.
The word guilty floated through his brain. He could be the man everyone
expected- he liked women, he really did, but he also... liked men. It was
practically unheard of in the forest, though. Besides, a man couldn't provide
an heir. But Jungkook still couldn't deny that he did, in fact, stray towards
males.
His face felt hot, too hot, not the nice sleepy warmth he'd felt just minutes
before. He briskly walked to his bed, crawling across it on his hands and knees
to throw open the window. Half his body leaned out of it, teetering dangerously
until he put his hands on the frame. He took in deep, satisfying lungfuls of
fresh air. It must have been raining earlier in the day. He could smell it, the
life in the soil and trees. It calmed him.
He practically fell back in through the window, flopping on his side in bed,
curled up tight enough so he could still see the stars up in the night sky. He
knew sleep would be hard to come after both that interaction and his short nap.
He felt an itching need to busy himself, or do something remotely productive.
Just take a bath, he told himself, hand on his chest, waiting for it to fall
regularly. He'd always gone and taken baths when he was upset, usually just so
he could have time alone, but then it became a habit.
When his legs felt less like gelatin, he rolled to stand on them. Wobbly, but
mostly solid. He left the room, closing his doors as quietly as possible. He
didn't see what room Seokjin disappeared into, and he had no idea which one
Namjoon was in, so he had to be careful.
He passed Jisoo on a flight of stairs. Jungkook realized it was kind of sad,
how they didn't so much as acknowledge each other any more. Jisoo was never at
fault. If anything, Jungkook was, and he knew that. Yet he couldn't bring
himself to fix it. How could he without uttering a word? Speaking made him ruin
everything in the first place.
When he got to the baths, they were empty- not a surprise at this time at
night. Jungkook had his own personal bathing room, technically, above the
King's quarters, but he'd used the guest baths his whole life. He was the only
one who really used them anyways- his father never had guests, and the servants
had their own bathroom as well. Jungkook was taught that baths were a social
thing, like in Ancient Rome, so even if there were guests using the baths, he
wasn't entirely unused to it. They had a room called the Royal Baths, half
exposed to the outside, where the King would discuss whatever with his court
members in a soothing atmosphere. Jungkook personally didn't hold meetings that
way, but it was normal.
He stripped himself naked slowly, letting himself relax in the warm air of the
room in contrast with the cool, smooth stone beneath his feet. The palace was
not modern by any means, but they'd always liked it that way. All the Kings
seemed to have a taste for the classic feel of a castle.
He gingerly stepped into the hot bath, and knelt in it so he could fold his
arms and rest his head on the edge. He let the tactile sensations flood him and
take over his brain. He had a song stuck in his head, a pretty instrumental of
violins, cellos, pianos, combining into a melancholy melody. He had a lot of
simple instrumental songs on records, but he hadn't actually played them in a
long time. His father, who always seemed to have a headache as king, hated the
turntable.
Jungkook decided, just then, that he'd bring music back into the everyday noise
of the palace. Even as a person who didn't speak, he enjoyed constant, soft
music or the conversations of others around him. He never sang or got too
involved in the conversations, but he just found it pleasant to focus on other
sounds instead of his own internal monologues. So, he allowed himself to be
content with the song in his head and closed his eyes.
He'd always had a bad habit of falling asleep in the bath, which his father and
Jisoo would scold him for, telling him it was dangerous. That, he understood,
but the comforting, pulsing water flowing by means of gentle jets under the
surface, lapping at his skin, was too soothing not to drift off to. And that's
what happened. He drifted off, stone probably making marks on his cheek as he
did, but he was too relaxed to care.
It didn't feel like long, but he had no perception of the passing of time when
he was woken rather abruptly by the doors of the baths opening. He rolled his
head so his chin rested on the edge of the bath instead of his cheek, expecting
Jisoo to have come in to drag him to bed, and was surprised to see a stranger.
His head jerked up. When the man in the doorway was less blurry to Jungkook's
sleepy eyes, he was able to process the wide-eyes and opening-closing mouth of
the stranger with strawberry blonde hair, who seemed to struggle for words.
"I, uh, shit- I mean, hi! King Jeon! Am I...? Am I intruding?"
Jungkook, eyebrows furrowed, looked at him blankly for a moment.
"Oh!" The strange man snapped his fingers, then put his hands on his graceful
hips. "Right. We haven't- I'm Hoseok. King Hoseok. Well, King Jung. But you can
just call me Hoseok."
Oh, Jungkook thought, and allowed a small smile for the man. Of course. Dyed
hair. The western king. He would probably want a bath after his long travel in
the night. He gestured for Hoseok to enter the room, which he did, closing the
doors behind himself. Hoseok seemed to be feeling a bit odd in Jungkook's
presence, but he could tell the man was making an effort to feel at ease.
Jungkook felt bad. He wanted Hoseok to be able to relax, and tried to convey a
casual, sleepy vibe, and Hoseok's forced smile eventually softened into
something more genuine.
Jungkook knew bathing wasn't as social a thing in the cities as it was in the
forest- and he wasn't sure about the mountains- but he also knew Namjoon had
done it very comfortably with his father before, but he never expected Hoseok
to be so immediately lax with it. Even as someone accustomed to the presence of
naked bodies, he was surprised as Hoseok stripped unabashedly.
"Namjoon warned me about this," Hoseok said suddenly, as if that explained his
comfort. "Though I must say, I didn't expect this to be how I met you for the
first time." Hoseok smirked, and Jungkook had to turn away as casually as
possible, feigning ease. "I also heard you weren't much for conversation, but I
don't know, this is good enough for me."
Jungkook felt a little conflicted about that. It was good enough for him? He
honestly didn't know exactly what that meant, or how to take it, but when the
other king slipped into the bath with him, keeping a comfortable distance, and
started talking like an old friend... he decided he was glad that it was good
enough for Hoseok.
"Sorry I was so late, by the way," he'd apologized, hands grazing the surface
of the steaming water. He had long, slim hands, worn by an active lifestyle.
Jungkook couldn't help but look at his own hands against the stone. Delicate,
soft, tender. He'd always worn gloves to protect his palms while arching and
horseback riding, and the only scrapes he received were paper cuts from novels.
"There was this... really weird incident that slowed me down."
Jungkook held up his palm, a gesture saying it was alright. He didn't expect
Hoseok until late, anyways.
"No, I mean really weird. As in, maybe cause for suspicion." Jungkook turned
his head, eyebrows furrowing, and Hoseok held his gaze in earnest. "I don't
think it was too concerning, but... I, uh, ran into three strange travelers.
One of them was from the Seaside Domain. He had markings on his face and chest-
he must be someone important. Do you know why they'd be meeting in your
forest?"
Jungkook frowned, and shook his head, opting to look up out the high windows.
His father never told him of relations with the Seaside Domain, and besides
that, he'd had no reason to believe they'd ever have relations. The Seaside
Domain was the result of an uprising on the forest's ocean front two
generations before him, meaning his grandfather's reign. The kingdom and the
domain had never really been friendly thereafter.
"Well, I'm glad I told you then, at least." Jungkook gave him a minuscule,
appreciative smile at the sincerity in his voice. "And," Hoseok added with a
nervous tone, "I'm technically not supposed to offer you this without
discussing with my court, but I have a good feeling about you, like you'll do
great things for the forest. So, if there's ever any issues, the Western City
has its faith and support for you. Namjoon's a good guy, so you don't have to
worry about him, but I don't know Seokjin as well, and I certainly don't know
the Seaside Domain's leader."
Jungkook bit his lip, eyebrows still drawn, and tried to convey his growing
unease. Hoseok quickly held out his hands in a sating gesture.
"That's not to say they're bad people! I honestly don't know, so just be
cautious. Namjoon says Seokjin's not a problem, and Seaside seems to like
living in peace on the borders. And," Hoseok repeats with the same pause and
trepidation, "I'm also not supposed to be telling you this, but it feels wrong
to me even if my court doesn't advise it. I know that some members, including
the leader, of the Seaside Domain have been seen entering and exiting the
Mountain Kingdom. Which, they might just be trading, most likely, but like I
said. It felt wrong to keep from you since you're right next to his territory
and you were the one with the problem with Seaside in the first place."
Jungkook nodded slowly, allowing himself a few measured breaths to let the
information soak into his brain. He wasn't used to being told things like this
yet, and the fact that Hoseok had felt obligated made it that much stranger to
Jungkook. It was easy to forget that he was a king among kings, an equal to the
men who were visiting.
He decided that the two days in which the others were staying was not the time
to be worrying about Seaside, or much else except keeping up the façade that he
could be a functioning adult around them. And setting up guidelines for the
library. Dammit, Jungkook thought, and slid down in the bath so the water
lapped his collarbones and dribbled from their divots. Digging myself towards
panic, here.
"Hey, King Jeon...?"
Jungkook startled, and shook his head abruptly at the name, taking Hoseok
aback. It's what he'd called Jungkook earlier, and it had made his skin crawl.
"Um... King Jungkook?" Jungkook shook his head slower this time. "Just
Jungkook, then?" Jungkook nodded, chest depressing with the release of a sigh.
"Are you okay?"
The sigh caught. It wasn't something he was asked often, not any more at least.
He closed his eyes, and nodded. He needed to stay okay for those few days.
Chapter End Notes
     P.S. Sorry if the French is wrong lol
***** The Coming of a Winter Storm *****
Chapter Notes
     And the madness begins.
     Title from The Forest by Mirah.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Jungkook didn't get much sleep. He sat and waited in the dining room,
periodically dipping his teabag into his mug of hot water until it was both
oversaturated and going cold. He didn't blame the other kings for not being
awake and joining him- it didn't really make a difference anyways. Jungkook was
used to eating alone, after his father's death. Even before, he got his meals
brought to his room to eat at his writing desk. He was acclimating too quickly,
having enjoyed the humorous stories of Namjoon, the charming intelligence of
Seokjin, and the casual ramblings from Hoseok. Jungkook hadn't forgotten his
interaction with Seokjin from the night before, however it didn't seem as Earth
shattering in the light of day. He'd heard... homosexuality was normal in the
other kingdoms. It blew Jungkook's mind a little, but also made sense.
In fact, Seokjin was the first down to sit with him, and there were no
implications of what Jungkook had feared. Seokjin had actually brought the book
to breakfast with him, and after a obligatory "good morning," read it silently
as he ate. This, Jungkook liked. Company in silence. He did enjoy the other
kings' ways of talking with him, but Jungkook thought of mornings as the time
for quiet. He liked to listen to the birds outside the large windows, and watch
the flowers in the garden tilt in the breeze. It was drizzling. The sky looked
like billowing grey silk. It was a beautiful day already.
At some point, he remembered a thought from the night before, and stood
quietly. Seokjin remained undisturbed by his movement, but Jungkook cleared his
throat a bit from where he stood in the corner of the room. Seokjin looked up,
and Jungkook gestured questioningly towards the turntable. The other king
tilted his head, seeming a little surprised, but said, "Go ahead."
Jungkook smiled appreciatively, and selected a custom record of pleasing piano
ballads to play very quietly. When he sat back down, a servant offered him
fresh, hot tea, which he traded his other cup for. He drank it this time,
feeling much more relaxed with company and music. He was able to rest his head
against his high-backed chair and gaze thoughtfully out the window, eyes half-
closed, feeling soft and warm inside the castle as the storm outside grew
colder and wetter. For a long time, he didn't notice that Seokjin had set his
book aside, and instead had his big, wise eyes trained on Jungkook. When he did
notice, he was too pleasantly drowsy to react much more than avoid the look and
he felt his cheeks redden. He caught Seokjin's small smirk at his flushing
skin.
Yet, he was almost disappointed when he heard footsteps approaching, and Hoseok
walked in, led by Jisoo. Seokjin only briefly glanced at the other man before
returning to Jungkook, who took the opportunity to put his attention on Hoseok.
"Good morning," the Western King greeted, sounding as tired as he looked. He
must still have been exhausted from his sickness and his travel. He sat down
with them and ate plenty, however, and Namjoon came not much longer after
Hoseok. He didn't eat, only accepting a black coffee. Seokjin- who had finally
stopped staring at Jungkook- raised an eyebrow at Namjoon.
"I am not a morning person," the Eastern King replied, a heavy sigh underlying
his words. Jungkook couldn't help but be a little amused at his hooded eyes and
mussed hair. "And the thought of eating this early makes my stomach churn."
"It's already nine, though," Hoseok said, and Namjoon shrugged.
"Still too damn early for an old king."
Hoseok snorted, bumping shoulders with Namjoon, who spoke as if he was elderly.
Even Jungkook let out an amused breath.
"Did you all sleep well, at least?" Seokjin asked, clearly noticing the tired
eyes around him. Jungkook pursed his lips, knowing the question was also for
him. "The guest rooms were quite comfortable."
"Well, I got in late, so I probably needed more hours than I got. Not bad,
though," Hoseok explained, nodding.
"Well, when you're an old king like me-"
"Namjoon, please," Hoseok scolded, but he was on the verge of giggles again.
"I'm older than you. Seokjin's older than you."
"Yeah, yeah, it was fine. Like I said, I'm just not a morning person." Namjoon
took a pointedly large gulp of his coffee, but his tone was joking. Then all
eyes were on Jungkook, who was a little taken aback.
"Well? It's your own palace, yet you seem the most exhausted," Seokjin noted,
and Jungkook couldn't help but wonder if that was all the other man was
thinking when he was staring earlier. He did see Namjoon send Seokjin a warning
look. All Jungkook could do in response was shrug, though. He startled a little
when Jisoo spoke from behind him, and tensed.
"King Jungkook never sleeps well. Not when he's supposed to, at least."
Namjoon chuckled fondly, and Hoseok grinned. Jungkook did not appreciate the
teasing lilt of Jisoo's voice. It was Seokjin who came to Jungkook's defense.
"He's a King, he is not supposed to do anything if he doesn't want to." By
then, everyone had been shocked into silence. Jungkook kept his chin up, not
looking behind him at Jisoo or at anyone really. He didn't think he could bear
to see their expressions. "I understand King Jungkook's lenient relationships
with his servants, but there is clearly an atmosphere of... distaste here,
caused solely by you. Respect Your Highness."
Jungkook could practically feel the hardening line of Jisoo's mouth, but the
servant did not leave shamefully or cower. Instead, Jungkook heard him take a
step back, not speaking another word.
"Well?" Seokjin asked harshly. "You are head servant, aren't you? What are you
doing supervising breakfast all morning?"
"I don't take orders from you," the servant spoke calmly, and Jungkook's face
hardened as he finally stood, causing the silverware at the table to rattle. He
turned sharply, making Jisoo take another wary step back.
"You do from me," Jungkook snapped, voice soft but projected, filled with
irritation. "To your duties, Jisoo. Now."
Jisoo looked at him levelly for a moment, lips twitching. Jungkook knew of the
information Jisoo possessed, and all he could say to humiliate him, but he
would not back down to that. He was sick of being afraid of words and speech.
Maybe he couldn't help trying to contain his own, but he would not let others'
get to him.
"Now," he repeated firmly, stepping away from his chair threateningly, making
Jisoo's face twist into scorn as he turned and left. The heavy double doors
closed harshly behind him. Jungkook fell back into his chair hard, and was met
with wide eyes from Hoseok and Namjoon, and approval from Seokjin.
"Interesting," is all Namjoon said under his breath, eyebrows raised, taking
another long sip of coffee. Hoseok looked a bit awed that Jungkook even spoke.
Seokjin was back to staring at him. Jungkook was back to staring out the
window. The morning progressed.
~~~
The leader and the commander gave each other a firm handshake upon the latter's
arrival, the woman in tow.
"I didn't think you would come. And you..." the leader sighed, looking past the
commander to the woman. She looked sheepish enough that he immediately forgave
her.
"She lost her way," the commander explained. "Lucky I bumped into her, right?"
The woman nodded graciously, and moved further in the tent to sit with the man
in the back. "We have much to discuss in a short time. It's just past noon. I'm
sure their meeting is already in session."
The leader nodded, and led the commander to a map detailing the layout of the
castle- or, what they'd gained in passing and from the man and woman. The
rough, uncertain lines weren't reassuring, but they planned with what they had.
"So, tonight at midnight?" The commander reaffirmed.
"Yes. The tides call for a new moon, so we'll be under the ideal darkness of
the night."
They shook hands again, and the commander pulled up the hood of his cloak
before ducking back out into the rain.
~~~
"I think it's appropriate to finally say congratulations, and we welcome you as
king," Namjoon started, seeming to have gotten over whatever happened at
breakfast. "And the East Cliff Kingdom officially extends its help if you need
it. It's a bit too early to talk alliances, but we'll see in the years to
come."
"The West offers the same," Hoseok added, smiling at Jungkook cheerfully.
Jungkook nodded appreciatively, and couldn't help it when he looked to Seokjin,
a little too much expectation in him. He was afraid for a moment that Seokjin
was not here for help and peace.
"Your father always hated me," Seokjin started pensively, and Jungkook's
tension only grew. "The Forest and Mountain Kingdoms were at odds more often
than not." Jungkook nodded his head once. He knew this. His father would often
growl over the Mountain King in meetings, and Jungkook always wondered why,
what they had done. "I'm more than willing to turn my cheek. I can already tell
that you are not your father. But, it's up to you if you, too, will look past
all that I'm sure you've heard from your father."
Jungkook nodded for the third time, slower, and hesitantly extended his hand.
Seokjin's lips twitched up at the corners, and they shook.
"Good. Now, it's time to discuss what your father has done, and what you will
decide to do," Namjoon continued. "It's not our place to tell you what to do
for your kingdom, but if you'll accept it, we'd like to offer our advice and
opinions."
Jungkook gestured, opening the floor to them. Hoseok was the first to speak.
"To be honest, I thought the future of the forest kingdom would be as
unchanging as it always has been- no offense. But then I heard that you ordered
the construction of the first public library. After talking to your- what do
you call him, Hermes? He said you also plan to have temporary learning centers
within the library while you plan for a formal education system."
"Which is- that's great, Jungkook. Your people deserve that, and I'm sure you
see everything else they deserve, too."
Namjoon obviously held a subtle grudge against his father, Jungkook could tell,
but he didn't mind. He'd been brainwashed and puppeteered by his father too
long. His death, as hard as it was to lose the only parent he'd had since he
was four, was like breaking free of a mold he didn't quite fit.
"What else do you plan?" Seokjin asked boldly, maybe expecting a spoken answer,
maybe expecting one of the guards around the room to speak for him.
Jungkook opened the folder he'd had before him, and presented several messy
papers detailing ideas he'd been sleeping on. Bulleted points explaining
structures to build, laws to order, laws to nullify, programs to start. He'd
even sketched some architecture on the sides, and mapped locations. Seokjin
slid them towards himself, angling the papers so the others could try to read
them, too. He started nodding, increasingly impressed, something close to pride
in his tiny grin.
"You seem quite aware of your problem areas, and have the right idea in moving
forward. Good. Consider us all more than willing to help you with any aspect of
your projects," Seokjin concluded, glancing at the others to make sure they
nodded in agreement.
They spent the rest of the hour discussing the projects- or, rather, the three
other kings bouncing ideas and necessities from their personal experiences off
of Jungkook, and Jungkook taking notes in the margins of the work he already
had. By the time Jisoo returned with servants from the kitchens to clean their
tea cups and snacks that they'd collected over time, Jungkook felt a lot more
comfortable in his plans. It was a big step. Not only that, but a big risk. The
fear he'd always had of his people abandoning him or overthrowing him for
changing their traditional ways, how they'd lived for so many generations,
still lingered and made him nervous. He'd gotten over that cowardice in him,
though. He was a scared teenager when he'd first really thought about making a
change, but as he grew older, he knew it had to be done.
The Hermes entered the room as it was being cleaned, announcing, "If you would
all like to join King Jungkook for a social bath, the water is prepared."
Seokjin sighed, and Jungkook glanced at him curiously. "I remember social baths
with your father," he explained without prompting, before turning his twisted
expression into a more pleasant smile. "I'm sure ones with you will be much
more enjoyable."
It was an odd comment, but Jungkook knew it was a compliment of some sort.
Hoseok clapped his hands together. "Oh good, this again. Last night was really
nice."
They started walking, being led by the Hermes, and Namjoon raised an eyebrow.
"Last night? Already got a head start on bonding with Jungkook?"
"Yup, had him all to himself in all our naked glory. I wonder how nude baths
became a political custom here."
"Actually," the Hermes spoke up, and the three kings listened in rapt attention
as Jungkook tried to hide his amused expression. It was a good story, and he
knew it well. "It happened completely by accident. King Jungkook's great great
great... great grandfather was bathing the night after his coronation, and
unbeknownst to him, there was a group of three assassins out for him from the
Seaside Revolution. When the assassins found him, naked and bathing, they were
a bit... shocked, as you can probably imagine. The new king, obviously not
wanting to be murdered in the bath so soon after being crowned, invited the
assassins to join him and talk out their differences. Tensions were still high,
but after a few drinks, they let loose a little and settled on an agreement-
they take the land by the sea as their own, and they never speak again."
"So, you mean to say, a great Jeon of the past evaded assassins by... getting
naked with them?" Namjoon's dimples started to show. Jungkook really liked
them.
"Yes, and it continues to be a peaceful tradition."
"Don't worry, Jungkook, we probably won't assassinate you," Hoseok joked.
"Probably?" The Hermes asked, half out of obligation to protect his king, half
facetious.
"Well, we definitely won't after a bath," Namjoon added, and Seokjin snorted,
covering his mouth with his hand.
The social bath was down a set of stairs and through a set of doors, opening up
to somewhat of a basement to the palace, except it was earth and grass and a
stone-lined pit in the ground with fresh spring water and natural filtration
plants. The surface steamed gently, and Jungkook was relaxed just by the sight
of it. As the Hermes left, he undid his cloak and folded it on a wooden bench
against the wall, far from the potential splash zone. When he glanced behind
himself, the others were fidgeting with uncertainty, but it was Hoseok who
finally sighed and started undressing beside Jungkook, making himself a
separate clothes pile. It wasn't long before they were all lined up near the
bench, undoing their shirts and belts and boots and trousers.
Jungkook was the first in, and he watched in amusement as Hoseok got tangled in
his pants, forcing Namjoon to begrudgingly help him. Seokjin rolled his eyes at
the two, folding his last article of clothing before joining Jungkook, who
didn't allow his gaze to linger long on the other man's body. Seokjin was fit,
though, he had noticed. Wide shouldered and narrow waisted with a soft, healthy
stomach and muscled arms and legs. He slipped comfortably into the water near
Jungkook, leaving room for Namjoon and Hoseok. Below the water was a smooth
stone bench lining the pool to sit on, and a deeper drop-off to accommodate
their legs. Seokjin rested his elbows outside the bath, and tilted his head
back, closing his eyes and clearly enjoying it warm water. Once again, Jungkook
noticed the scar on his arm, finding it ran much farther up Seokjin's elbow
than Jungkook had originally thought.
When Hoseok and Namjoon finally joined them, they all took a moment, like
Seokjin, to bask in the feeling of the bath. Jungkook, perhaps to reassure
himself after giving Seokjin a once-over, subtly noted Namjoon's lean, long-
limbed body and Hoseok's lithe, strong figure- like a dancer. He wondered if
looking at them was wrong, but it's not like they all didn't take curious peeks
at each other. Oh, the woes of fragile masculinity. Except, Seokjin seemed to
have had no qualms about looking. Seokjin was simply a bold, unbothered
individual, though.
After a few calm minutes, Jungkook started to get antsy. There'd been something
he'd wanted to discuss since the night before- since Hoseok first told him of a
Seaside member being on his land. He nudged Hoseok, sitting next to him, under
the water with his knee, and the Western King looked at him questioningly.
Jungkook bit his lip. How was he to explain...?
The setting must have triggered Hoseok's memory, too, however, as he prompted
hesitantly, "You look concerned. Is it about what I told you last night?"
Namjoon and Seokjin perked up, listening in at the sudden sound of Hoseok's
voice. Jungkook nodded, and gestured vaguely at the other two kings. "Ah, would
you like me to tell them?" Jungkook nodded again.
Seokjin tilted his head, eyes darting between Jungkook and Hoseok. "Is
something wrong?"
"I think Jungkook just wants to talk about something I saw last night. On my
way here, a member of the Seaside tribe was here talking with two others I
didn't recognize, a man and a woman," Hoseok explained, and Jungkook saw the
way he glanced to Seokjin suspiciously. Seokjin looked calm about it.
"From the Seaside Domain? Perhaps they were on their way to my trading post at
the base of the mountain," he suggested, shrugging.
Hoseok's eyebrows furrowed, and he shook his head. "They were really far West,
far past the curl of your mountain. They seemed to have some sort of tent set
up." That was news to Jungkook, who sat up straighter. "I... forgot to mention
that, didn't I?"
"You should have told us sooner," Namjoon insisted, running a wet hand through
his hair. "This could be a problem, not only for Jungkook, but for all of us.
Isn't it a little convenient that they came during the first meeting between
all the kings after Jungkook's coronation?"
Jungkook shifted nervously, and felt his heart start to hammer in his chest.
Last night, when all was sleepy and Hoseok seemed so laid back, it didn't seem
like such a big deal, but both Namjoon and Seokjin- and Hoseok, too, by then-
seemed distressed by it.
Seokjin pursed his lips. "Well, Jungkook has guards on watch." Guards that I
myself was able to sneak Taehyung past... Jungkook thought worriedly, and
suddenly wondered if his guards were purposely slacking because they were part
of some scheme with the Seaside Domain. If, maybe, even Taehyung was part of
it... No. Taehyung was genuine. He had to be, he seemed clueless. "We'll have
to alert all our soldiers, though, just as extra precaution."
Namjoon narrowed his eyes at Seokjin. "And you're sure you know nothing? How do
we know you have no part in this?"
"Namjoon..." Hoseok murmured cautiously.
"Seokjin's caused problems before. Not to this scale, in another's territory,
but I wouldn't put it past him," Namjoon responded coldly. Jungkook opened his
mouth, but nothing came out, of course. He closed it and swallowed.
Seokjin's gaze hardened into a glare. "Just because our kingdoms' ways are
different doesn't mean I'm some savage," he spit out the last word.
Namjoon scoffed. "Then what do you call your 'justice' system?"
"If someone dares commit a crime, they get the punishment they very well
deserve. It's called setting an example. How's crime in your precious city
been, Gim?"
"It's been low because people respect me and my kingdom instead of fear me."
The two fumed silently at each other, and Jungkook turned to Hoseok
desperately, but from the way the older man was looking at Namjoon, it was
hopeless to diffuse either of them. Instead, Hoseok said sternly, "There are
bigger problems than our differences. We have no choice but to take Seokjin's
word for his innocence in the matter for now. Not only are you scaring our
young new royal, Jungkook, but you're also causing unnecessary disturbance in
his presence when he graciously let us stay here. Can we get back to acting
like adults and figuring out this problem with Seaside now?"
Namjoon bristled, but didn't say a word. Seokjin took a breath, flexing his jaw
before he relaxed again. Jungkook expected the two to give each other the
silent treatment or something, but Seokjin shocked them all, saying, "You're
right, Hoseok. I'm sorry my kingdom's system offends you, Namjoon, but it works
and I personally believe it's right." He looked to Jungkook next, whose eyes
widened. "And Jungkook, I'm sorry for that petty arguing. We'll help protect
you and your kingdom if something is to come out of this Seaside sighting. At
least, my soldiers and I will help you."
Namjoon looked like he wanted to make a biting remark at Seokjin's superior
tone, but bit his tongue. Hoseok, still struggling for peace, said, "Us, too,
of course. For now... ten more minutes to relax?"
"Please, make it twenty," Seokjin sighed, sinking lower and leaning his head
back again, eyelids fluttering closed. "I have a headache."
Hoseok checked for Jungkook to nod in confirmation before leaning back himself.
Jungkook couldn't help flitting his gaze to Namjoon briefly. Out of all the
kings, Jungkook least expected problems from him. Accusing Seokjin outright
like that, when the man had been much more kind and amiable than Jungkook
expected from the rumors? He was a little floored.
Whatever they have going on, just stay out of it, Jungkook reminded himself,
looking away before Namjoon could catch him.
~~~
"They're on high alert," the leader growled in frustration. He whirled on the
man, who threw his hands up in a gesture of innocence. "Did you tell him?"
"No! I already told you I didn't. I promise," he insisted, eyes big.
The leader shook his head, turning away, peering through the opening of the
tent. “Fuck,’ he murmured. Then, louder, a bite of anger tinging his words, “I
knew those two would back out.”
“King Seokjin won’t,” the man offered.
“Of course not. That’s why I trusted him for this. The question is if he’ll be
smart enough to get it done.”
“He is,” the woman said assuredly. “Even so, there’s nothing we can actively do
about it. We have no choice but to have faith in him.”
The leader grunted in acknowledgement. “Time?”
“About two hours before sunset.”
“I’ll be leaving, then. Send for your friend, tell him to await the king. He
knows where to find him.”
The leader pushed past the flap of the entrance, but paused at the man’s voice.
“Be careful, hyung.”
The leader looked over her shoulder, face drawn. “I’m not your hyung.”
The man gave a cheeky smile, even as the woman hit him for being so lax around
the leader. “You’ll come around one day, Yoongi-ssi.”
The leader rolled his eyes, exiting the tent and calling over his shoulder,
“Keep dreaming, Taehyung.”
~~~
“That man you were meeting with has to have some sort of part in this,” Jisoo
told Jungkook as he served the king afternoon tea. The sky outside the library
windows was slowly turning from a blazing horizon into soft pastels of peach,
purple, and blue. Jungkook tried to ignore Jisoo. He knew it was a possibility.
He really didn’t want it to be true. “He was a rat, notorious for making
sketchy deals with the Seaside Domain.”
Jungkook wrapped his hands around the teacup Jisoo handed him, watching as the
flowers bent in the harsh winds outside. The storm had only worsened as the day
wore on. Jungkook liked the background noise of the beat of raindrops on stone.
“Are you listening?” Jisoo shifted to stand further in Jungkook’s peripheral,
arms folding across his chest. He winced as he did it, and Jungkook caught the
flash of pain, turning his head and raising an eyebrow at it. Jisoo met his
stare levelly. He’d grown even colder towards Jungkook since breakfast.
Jungkook supposed it was only natural. “Why are you staring?” Jisoo asked, and
Jungkook shook his head of his thoughts and gestured to Jisoo’s injured arm.
Jisoo grabbed his own shoulder defensively, backing away. “It’s fine. Don’t
worry. I can still carry out your orders.”
Jungkook scoffed, tucking his face down so his mouth and nose hovered over the
tea, letting the minty steam fill his airways soothingly. He took a measured
sip before putting it down and standing. Jisoo took another step back to
accommodate, but Jungkook gently unfurled his arms from around himself and held
the injured one. He pressed curiously at the wrist, the forearm, the elbow, the
bicep, before finding the area of the shoulder that made Jisoo flinch and grit
his teeth. Jungkook glanced up at Jisoo’s face, but the servant was stubbornly
staying stony. I should just drop it. He says he’s fine, Jungkook thought, but
dismissed it. Jisoo wouldn’t admit his pain even if he was dying. They were at
odds, but Jungkook didn’t hate him. It was Jungkook’s own aggression that led
to them being so distant.
Jungkook pursed his lips, letting go of Jisoo in favor of plucking the man’s
tiny notepad from his breast pocket, the pen alongside it. The first piece of
paper had various chores and scheduling details scrawled on it in Jisoo’s
pretty penmanship. He carefully folded it back and wrote see the castle doctor
now. He handed it back, staring resolutely past Jisoo’s shoulder.
“Jung… King, are you sure?” Jisoo’s voice and posture was softened. He was like
the same old caring Jisoo that Jungkook had came to trust after his father’s
death. “I should stay near you at all times at a time like this. You ordered
everyone to be vigilant.”
Jungkook held out his hand. Jisoo only hesitated for a split second before
giving the notepad back. Under his previous note, Jungkook wrote this is an
order. When Jisoo received and read it, his face creased with worry. “Yes, Your
Highness.” He bowed, but paused before going. “I’ll call for a personal guard
to stand in my place. Just while I get checked, though.”
Jungkook shooed the servant away, and felt a little more at ease after the
exchange. Jisoo knew, once more, that Jungkook cared for him- had never stopped
caring.
The king shook his head, smiling, and began traipsing the lower level of the
library. Thousands of books, some he’d already read, some he wanted to read,
but most he didn’t think he or his family would ever read. He tilted his head
up towards the upper level. Maybe, if I make a large donation of books to the
forest’s first public library, I can repurpose the upper floor. Something fun?
He stopped when he saw Seokjin. The older man was descending the staircase from
the upper level, reading from a thick book as he went. Jungkook’s first
instinct was to sink into the shadows and leave the other king to himself, but
then realized how foolish it was. It was his own palace, his own home. This was
not his father, about to catch Jungkook sneaking out of bed again to read by
faint candlelight. This was not a random nobleman, who would pressure Jungkook
to speak until he ran away. This was not even a servant, who would bow and look
at him expectantly for a moment, only to realize that Jungkook had no spoken
orders to give and scurry off. This was Seokjin, the mountain king, an equal to
Jungkook who had been nothing but supportive and kind and warm to Jungkook.
Jungkook emerged into the open, coming to a halt at the bottom of the steps.
Seokjin was slowly approaching, having not yet noticed Jungkook, who waited
patiently. However, on the third step from the bottom, the heel of Seokjin’s
boot caught the edge of a step and he stumbled, gasping sharply in surprise as
he quickly fell.
“Ah!” Jungkook yelped, and leapt forwards, closing his eyes and bracing
himself, hands raised to catch Seokjin in any way he could. Jungkook guessed he
could hold Seokjin’s weight easily any other time, but the unexpected nature of
the incident had them both crashing to the ground, Seokjin protected by
Jungkook’s body beneath his. Jungkook grunted when his back and head slammed
into the ground. Had the staircase and a square of the floor at the bottom of
it not been carpeted, Jungkook may have had serious injuries, but he got away
with just being mildly dizzy and winded.
Seokjin immediately stabilized his hands on the ground beside Jungkook’s head
and pushed himself up. His eyes darted across Jungkook’s face in alarm,
Jungkook only managing to blink blearily up at him. “Are you okay?” Seokjin
breathed, also breathless, and the worry in his voice surprised Jungkook a
little. He nodded, but winced when it sent a sharp pain through his skull. A
headache slowly overtook him. Seokjin shifted his weight to one arm, and let
his free hand cup the side of Jungkook’s slightly lolling head. “Really?
Because I’m not so convinced.”
Jungkook, despite the whole situation, blushed. Seokjin sat up, and gripped
Jungkook’s biceps to bring him up as well. Jungkook’s head fell forward, and he
hissed a breath. Seokjin held Jungkook’s face in both of his hands, then,
helping support his head so the younger king could look at him. Seokjin
frowned.
“Your eyes are a little unfocused. Are you seeing doubles?”
Jungkook shook his head. Which was honest, because he wasn’t seeing doubles; he
was seeing triples. Is this karma for forcing Jisoo to go to the infirmary?
I’ll have to follow and meet him there now? He asked himself ruefully.
“Still, you might have a concussion. Let’s wait another fifteen minutes, and if
you’re still out of it, we’re going straight to your doctor,” Seokjin ordered
mindlessly, then seemed to realize who he was talking to again. He blinked, and
gauged Jungkook’s expression, biting his plush bottom lip. “Normally I would
let you do whatever you want, as this is your home you’ve invited me into and
you are a grown man, but… well, I’m worried for you.” He offered a lopsided
smile, and Jungkook felt his face heat more, but he waved a hand flippantly.
He held tight to Seokjin’s broad shoulders as the other king helped him to his
feet. He stumbled when he let go, so Seokjin caught him around his waist with
an arm and assisted him back to where he had sat with his tea. He leaned
heavily on the table, and squeezed his eyes shut. The headache was hitting him
hard. Even the light was too much for him. He was beginning to panic.
Calm down, it’s not that bad, he tried to tell himself, but he was honestly
scared. Had he really hit the ground that hard?
“I feel awful, Jungkook. You didn’t have to catch me. It was my own mistake,”
Seokjin murmured, sounding stressed about it. Once again, Jungkook passively
waved his hand. It was trembling. “Your shaking…” Seokjin took his wrist
gently, and inspected his vibrating fingers. Jungkook focused on the feel of
the other man’s warmth. It was a minute comfort to him. “Let me take you to the
infirmary.” Jungkook shook his head, thinking of the awful, bright white lights
and white walls and white floors down there. “At least to your room, then?” He
nodded. His mind was racing with the words bed and dark and sleep. Seokjin
helped him back up, and the room spun before Jungkook’s eyes. He wondered
vaguely if he would throw up, and hoped not. Seokjin’s face grew more
concerned. “What to do with you?” He tsked jokingly.
“‘M fine,” Jungkook muttered, fingers digging into Seokjin’s arm with a death
grip.
Seokjin huffed. “You’re speaking, clearly you’re not.” Jungkook couldn’t help
smirk at that, and rolled his eyes. Bad idea. He tried to take a step, but
suddenly his feet weren’t below him. He panicked for a moment, hands scrabbling
against Seokjin’s chest and shoulder until he realized what had happened.
Seokjin’s arm was tucked under Jungkook’s knees, the other behind his back.
This is probably really embarrassing.
By the time Seokjin had carried him to the guest hallway, Jungkook’s head had
cleared a little, enough to start feeling awkward being held bridal style by
another king. Seokjin didn’t seem too bothered by it, though, so Jungkook
didn’t make any indication of his discomfort. He helped Seokjin open the door,
and the mountain king kicked it shut behind himself before going and placing
Jungkook carefully on his bed. There was something extremely intimate in being
put to bed as such that had Jungkook’s heart foolishly beating in his throat as
he looked up at Seokjin’s handsome face.
"Are you sure you'll be okay? Should I call your doctor or a guard?" Seokjin
fretted, but Jungkook shook his head. Seokjin looked doubtful, but agreed
anyways.
Jungkook struggled to sit up properly, but once he did, he felt a little less
flustered. He opened his mouth, and Seokjin raised an eyebrow, but Jungkook had
nothing to say.
They heard a crash.
Seokjin shot to his feet, eyes landing on the door. "Was that a window
shattering?" Jungkook tried to get out of bed, but Seokjin placed a hand on his
chest. "You shouldn't be up just yet. I'll go look."
Jungkook watched him go, eyes wide. Was it the other kings? Why on the third
story? He waited in tense silence, no other noises coming from the hallway and
the door remaining snugly shut. Seconds pass. Then a minute. Then several.
Jungkook shook his head to clear it and staggered to his feet. What am I doing?
This is my castle. He knew very well that it may have been happening. He may
have been under siege, whether it was by Seaside or not. He knew how to fight,
yes, but in that moment he was dizzy and walking like a drunk. He took his bow
from where it was tucked between the bookshelf and the wall anyways, and took
caution not to let it make a noise as he slung the arrows over uis back and
held one at the ready. The tension on the bowstring made his arm tremble
pathetically. He'd be no match against the stealthy warriors of the Seaside
Domain. They were a tribe of lithe little fighters, mostly, having always been
on their guard in case the forest tried to go after them. They could probably
cut him down easily, even if he hadn't just smacked his head against the stone
beneath a thin carpet.
He had only just approached the door when it swung open, nearly dragging him
with it, and Seokjin barreled into him for the second time that night- except
that time, he caught Jungkook.
"Jung-" Seokjin was saying, but was cut off with a small choking noise. "Your-
Your arrow," he gasped, and Jungkook jerked backwards, expecting the worst.
Seokjin's plain black shirt had a new tear near his lower left side, a strip of
golden skin and a thin red line seen under it. Jungkook winced, but Seokjin
paid it no mind. The mountain king glanced back to the hallway behind him
before shutting the door and grabbing Jungkook's arm, pulling him close. "There
are attackers in the castle," he hissed in Jungkook's ear. Jungkook shivered, a
feeling like ice water dribbling down his spine. "I just killed one that came
in through Hoseok's guest room window- him and Namjoon are already gone, I
don't know where, but we have to go now."
Jungkook was looking all over in paranoia- at his own windows, at the door
behind Seokjin, even at his closet- until Seokjin took a gentle, firm hold of
his bicep and their eyes met. Jungkook's brain felt like gelatin, but the
gravity of the situation forced his thoughts into gear. He nodded once, a
gesture of I know what to do, and slid his arm until Seokjin was holding his
wrist tightly.
He put his bow over his body and returned his arrow to the quiver, opting to
lead them through the hallways with his sword bared instead, taking the
innermost corridors and stairways. As far from windows as possible. Jungkook
had a futile little hope that he wouldn't have to meet an enemy, but it was
inevitable. When four women rounded the corner at the end of the hall they were
on- the hall with Jungkook's old lesson rooms and leisure areas- he immediately
thought it was over. Seokjin quietly pulled him into a study room, though, and
they held their breaths, tucked beside the door, as the footsteps approached at
a swift, purposeful pace. His back was flush against Seokjin's chest.
Jungkook hadn't recognized any of the women, so he was at least a little
relieved it wasn't his own people in a Coup.
"It's definitely Seaside," Seokjin whispers, lips at Jungkook's ear. Even so,
he sounded far away with how low he spoke. "Did you see their paint?" Jungkook
had. The girls wore sharp, curving lines in dark blues and black, framing their
eyes like a mask and curling the lines of their cheekbones in a deadly contour.
Three of them had some sort of dye in their hair- a highlighted blonde, a flat
blonde, a redhead, and natural black. They wore clothing that looked like
extravagant material, but in no certain fashion other than draped and pinned
into rompers, also in blue tones and black. The three attributes were a sure
sign of Seaside.
The footsteps passed by them.
"-if we find them?" One with an odd, pleasantly low voice asked her companions.
"We'll have to surrender," another answered, this one with a higher, smoother
voice.
"I don't like the thought of that..." A third voice.
"There's no dishonor in it if it's faked." The fourth.
"Do you think..."
Their footsteps eventually ebbed as the women left the hallway. Jungkook turned
to Seokjin in confusion at the conversation they'd overheard, but Seokjin was
already focused on their task again and scoped out the hallway before giving
the clear. They slipped from the classroom and walked as fast as silent feet
could go.
Down the hall, then another. Down stairs. Another hallway. Cut across a
recreation room. Another hall, more stairs, servants' quarters. Another rec
room, and finally, stairs to the basement.
"The basement?" Seokjin inquired lowly, but allowed himself to be rushed down
the steps anyways. There were two entrances to the basement level- the one in
the grand foyer, which led to the infirmary, and the one tucked in the corner
of the servants' rec room, which lead to the servants' baths.
Jungkook's father had no idea about this. Actually, the only person who did was
Jisoo, after he and the forest commander decided to make plans for an escape
route from the castle. It was easier if Jungkook's father never found out,
since he would have scoffed at the idea of ever being "weak" enough to use it.
However, Jisoo told and showed Jungkook, so he could at least have shown his
father if ever in an emergency without Jisoo around.
Seokjin looked alarmed when Jungkook, without hesitating, jumped into the bath
water. Unlike the other baths in the palace, the servants' was more like a
pool, getting deeper the farther one went instead of having benches and a
deeper center. The servants' baths went so deep, one could swim comfortably in
them.
It was when Jungkook was treading water at the far end of the room that he
circled his body around to find Seokjin was still at the stone edge of the
bath.
"Jungkook, I never wanted to try and force you to speak, but you must tell
me... what are we doing?" Seokjin pleaded. Jungkook puffed his cheeks with air
before slowly letting it out. He was beginning to feel woozy again, and working
his arms and legs wasn't helping.
"Secret passage," Jungkook's voice crackled, and he cleared his throat. He
couldn't help the amount of times he looked over Seokjin's shoulder, expecting
someone to appear from the dark stairwell. "Please hurry."
Seokjin looked like it was the last thing he wanted to do, but he waded in and
swam to Jungkook anyways. Then Jungkook dove. He hoped Seokjin followed as he
kicked and swam deep to a hole in the wall just big enough to slide through
with ease. When he emerged on the other side, taking a gasping breath of air,
the room beyond was dark and dank. He panicked for a second, eyes struggling to
penetrate the water, darkened in the dimness of the windowless room.
Eventually, the surface bubbled and Seokjin appeared, hair plastered to his
forehead and eyes blinking rapidly to rid the water from his eyelashes. He
coughed and spluttered, but seemed to relax a little when he saw Jungkook only
a few feet away.
"I-" Seokjin rasped, and cleared his throat. "I'm not the strongest swimmer."
Jungkook drew his brows together apologetically, and swam over to help guide
Seokjin to the shore. Between his dizzied state and the breath he just had to
hold, Jungkook was feeling pretty unsteady as he climbed from the water onto
stone. Seokjin was up in seconds, catching Jungkook's wavering form by the
shoulders.
"Where to now?"
Jungkook tried to lead the way, stumbling a step forward, but Seokjin gripped
him tight. He ended up pointing to a dark passage hidden in shadow, and Seokjin
guided him down it quickly. It was long, and became a small incline at one
point, but they eventually came to the end where there was a wooden hatch
above, pieces of straw sticking through around the edges. Seokjin regarded it
questioningly, but Jungkook simply pulled down a retraced metal ladder and
began to climb the few short steps it took for him to push up on the hatch.
Hay rained down on them, and pale moonlight filtered in from somewhere distant
in the room above. With a hand under Jungkook's thigh to spot him, both men
made it up into the room and closed the hatch behind them.
They had winded up in the stables, which was a good distance behind the castle.
The hatch had been covered by hay, and Jungkook quickly hid it again before
crouching in front of the wooden door of the paddock. Seokjin huddled behind
him, waiting with bated breath as Jungkook slowly cracked the door open and
peered out. There were no sounds around them other than the shuffling of
horses' hooves and the occasional noise of their mouths. When Jungkook deemed
the stables clear, he remained crouched as he darted out and across the way to
another paddock, slipping in with Seokjin hot on his heels.
Jungkook stood, then gripped his head as it spun and was forced down again.
Seokjin gripped the younger king's shoulder tightly, and whispered, "Jungkook?"
Jungkook squinted his eyes open and gestured to the tacking on the wall with a
hopeful and questioning look. Seokjin eyed all the items, and nodded once,
rising to his feet to saddle the horse. He prepared the horse, adjusting
stirrups for his own needs, and secured the bit and the reins before adding a
carrier to both sides. He fluttered around the small enclosure, careful not to
step behind the horse, packing water, treats, and blankets. When he finished,
he dragged a step stool over to the horse and gently took Jungkook's elbow,
helping him rise and swing his leg onto the tall, dark horse. When he was
secure, Seokjin gave him the reins and opened the paddock to lead the horse out
of the barn. As soon as the door was opened, Seokjin pulled himself onto the
horse to sit in front of Jungkook, got his boots in the stirrups, and waited
for Jungkook's arms to fit around him snugly before sliding his left leg up and
immediately taking off in a canter.
Jungkook buried his face in Seokjin's shoulder as the wind bit at his face. He
didn't question where they were going, how long they'd wait to return, if
anyone was going to meet up with them. All he could really do as his castle was
under siege and his guards fought the Seaside Tribe was trust Seokjin. There
was no question a silent man could simply ask anyways. He was afraid to anger
Seokjin if the other king thought Jungkook was doubting him. No, Seokjin had
been kind and helpful to Jungkook, even when the others had been weary of the
new king. They had all been kind and helpful. Jungkook thought, as he hugged
tight to Seokjin's narrow waist, that he would have trusted any of them in this
moment. But a part of him was almost glad it was Seokjin, somehow.
Jungkook kind of zoned out for the rest of their ride through the dark. He was
in a weird dream state where reality was distorted. Instead of fleeing from his
castle taken by Seaside with Seokjin, he was fleeing from his father with the
mother he'd never met. It was only when they slowed to a trot and Jungkook
began bouncing uncomfortably on the back of the horse that the feeling of
Seokjin's fit body beneath his hands grounded him again. He sat up straighter,
knowing his cheek must be creased with lines from being pressed against the
hood of Seokjin's cloak, and had to blink a few times to regain his sense of
awareness. When his hands squeezed in the fabric of Seokjin's shirt, Seokjin
glanced over his shoulder, noticing Jungkook's wide, searching eyes taking in
the trees that surrounded them, the Earth sloping upwards.
"How are feeling, Jungkook?" Seokjin asked gently, and Jungkook just shrugged a
little helplessly. "I figured I'd take you back to my kingdom until we got word
from the other kings or your commander. We're at the base of the mountain now."
Jungkook nodded, but he felt uneasy. He knew he had to be protected, but he
felt useless. His palace men were back there... Jisoo was back there... Had the
other kings even made it out alive? They didn't even know if Seaside was there
with the intent to kill. They knew nothing. They just ran. "Jungkook?" Seokjin
looked back at him again, catching his gaze. Jungkook stared back, eyebrows
drawn in concern. Seokjin softened, and turned back front to draw the horse
into a walk. "Don't worry, Jungkook. I believe they'll be okay."
Jungkook slumped against Seokjin's back again, having had no other choice but
to take the man's word for the moment. He watched the scenery pass instead of
letting the worry catch him, the moonlight flickering between the wet leaves of
the trees. It had stopped raining some time ago, fortunately, but the air was
beginning to nip at his cheeks. He almost wished for snow, simply as a reminder
of the week before. Even then had been an easier time.
He didn’t drift back off, the air turning too frigid to do much more than
shiver and wallow in his fear and melancholy. He was exhausted, though, from
hardly sleeping the night before to now being awake so late, all the events in
between. Seokjin seemed weary as well, and eventually stopped them. Jungkook
lifted his head to find, surprisingly, the mouth of a tiny cave that could be
no more than four feet tall and maybe ten feet deep. Seokjin slid off, and
offered Jungkook a hand. Jungkook, for all that his head felt better, didn’t
trust himself not to fall upon getting off the horse. Seokjin said nothing when
Jungkook then bypassed his hand to grip his shoulders, simply took hold of
Jungkook around the middle and eased him to the ground. Seokjin didn’t
immediately let go, taking his time to secure Jungkook’s cloak closer to his
body before smiling ever so softly. It was an odd expression to see in a time
like this. Jungkook wanted to let it put him to ease. The prospect was both
alluring and difficult.
“Come. We’ll have to get a little close, but at least we’ll be sheltered from
the weather.” Seokjin released him, expecting Jungkook to follow as he went for
the cave, and Jungkook dutifully did so. He was too sleepy to care when he was
pressed flush against Seokjin’s side- he even welcomed it. Seokjin looked down
at Jungkook for a moment, thoughtfully, then arranged them so Jungkook was
between Seokjin’s legs, back against the older king’s chest. “Try to sleep. You
had a rough night. We’ll be to my castle by late morning and you’ll be safe, I
promise.”
Jungkook settled down, and as he’d done so often, he trusted Seokjin for some
reason. He slipped back into unconsciousness, vaguely feeling the ghost of
fingers through his hair, but he was too far gone to tell.
Chapter End Notes
     Let me know your thoughts on the direction this is going!
     ~MC
***** Desire is a Gift in Life *****
Chapter Notes
     Make sure to read the end note!
     Title from Kingdom of Welcome Addiction by IAMX.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Jungkook woke long before the dawn. Seokjin was still awake, but drowsy, so he
silently urged him to sleep while Jungkook took watch.
This is my life now, Jungkook mentally sighed, this is my night. He never
thought he would have to stay awake to keep watch for any reason, especially
not for his own safety. It was an agonizing night, to say the least. While
Seokjin slept restlessly behind his back, held close, Jungkook stared into the
darkness and held his breath at every push of the breeze through the leaves,
every snap of a twig underfoot an animal. The horse nearby didn’t help. She
made odd little noises as she slept standing, nearly giving Jungkook a heart
attack every other minute. His sheltered heart could hardly bear the anxiety
coursing through him. His legs bounced with adrenaline until they ached from
the action. The darkness of night only made it that much worse. He nearly cried
with relief at the first signs of daylight.
He began to rouse Seokjin, gently shaking the arm the older man had around
Jungkook, when he heard a noise he had not heard throughout the night. Hooves.
Not just his horse messing around, but in the distance, drawing nearer.
Jungkook froze, and Seokjin, just waking up, also gave pause. Outside their
covering, Jungkook’s horse gave a little winny, and Jungkook grimaced at the
high noise. The distant noises shuffle for a moment, seeming to change
direction. Seokjin cursed under his breath, and slid his hands under Jungkook’s
thighs, making his heart jump to his throat for a moment before he realized
Seokjin meant for Jungkook to tuck his legs up. He folded his knees to his
chest and shrunk back against Seokjin as best as he could, but he knew the
small hovel was far too shallow to hide them properly.
Soon, the legs of a tall, white horse were seen emerging from the brush of the
forest. They halt, seeing Jungkook’s horse tethered to a tree. Boots landed on
the ground, and legs clad in tight black trousers. Seokjin’s breath was still
in his chest. Jungkook’s was the opposite, trying to come out quick and scared,
but he had to keep it shallow and quiet. He wondered if the stranger out there
could see the puffs of white erupting from his warm mouth.
“Your Highness?” A soft voice called, and Seokjin startled. The boots
approached the cave, and Jungkook tensed while Seokjin seemed to relax. The
pair of legs crouched, and suddenly a boyish, male face was peering in at them,
framed by black hair that seemed stark in such a drained, cold environment. He
was very pretty, in a dangerous way, one that could lean both towards simply
cute or devastatingly sexy. The boy’s eyes widened. “King Seokjin-”
“Hello, Jimin. Jungkook is trembling-” oh, Jungkook thought, glancing at his
hands, so I am, “Please help me get him to the palace.”
“Of course.” Jimin eyed Jungkook warily before offering out a hand. When
Jungkook took it, the man’s fingers were tiny where they wrapped around his
own. Jungkook couldn’t help the soft little smirk that erupted on his face, and
Jimin scowled minutely. The small man helped Jungkook up, then offered the same
of who was clearly his king. “What happened, Seokj- King Seokjin?”
There was a pause, and Jungkook looked between them. Finally, Seokjin said,
“You can address me as you normally would. Jungkook is about to be a guest in
our palace, he has to know how comfortably we speak to one another.”
“Right. So…?”
Seokjin cleared his throat of sleep and started brushing himself off as he
spoke. “Jungkook’s palace was attacked by the Seaside Domain last night, and
I’m assuming some rats were involved, hired as mercenaries. We had to flee
immediately. He will return when we get word from his Commander.”
Jimin hummed, “I figured there was an attack, that’s why I came. I sent
reinforcements.” Jimin’s lips suddenly twisted in distaste. “They didn’t like
me giving orders.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Seokjin said, and despite being fairly lost on the
conversation, Jungkook sensed a teasing lilt. Jimin scowled a second time, and
turned his back to get back on his horse, which- Jungkook noted with amusement-
he struggled to do. Seokjin readied Jungkook’s horse, and after Jimin shared
food and water for her, they were off again.
As the traveled, gaining altitude, Jungkook had to open his jaw and unblock his
ears every so often. Snow started to creep along the ground, almost beyond
Jungkook’s notice, until it was in the trees, and then in a thin layer,
thickening as the went. At one of the steeper inclines, a river streamed
alongside them, dark and fast, capped with white where it clashed with rocks.
Jungkook shivered hard against Seokjin’s back, and Jimin kept sending worried
glances their way, eyes narrowed and lips drawn together. If Jungkook’s honest,
the man looked like a king himself, or perhaps a prince from his young face.
His skin was almost flawless, hair neatly combed, fallen snowflakes from the
trees now spotting the dark strands. They caught gazes, and Jungkook’s first
instinct was to look away, but he had to berate himself so he wouldn’t. I’m a
king. He should be the one averting his eyes. Not that Jungkook wanted that- he
didn’t like that very much. Of course there had to be a power difference, but
it seemed strange that others felt they couldn’t even look him in the eyes.
Jimin, though, he held Jungkook’s gaze. It felt like a peaceful stalemate.
Neither of them felt threatened by the other, there was no challenge- none
except for the spark of will you stop me? in Jimin’s eyes, a boldness that
Jungkook rather appreciated. Jungkook cracked something of a grin before
finally turning frontwards again to huddle closer to Seokjin to trap body heat
between his back and Jungkook’s chest. Jimin kept looking a moment longer
before he also looked forwards, his horse quickening its steps a bit to lead
the way down a narrower path.
Seokjin’s breath grew shallower as their horses climbed the peaks, and Jungkook
made a soft noise of concern. Seokjin huffed a small, soundless laugh. “The
Mountain King, and I can’t even breathe well at high altitudes. Asthma,”
Seokjin explained in short, choppy words. Jungkook couldn’t help a playful
snort, and Seokjin scoffed. “Laughing at me- the audacity.” Jimin once again
glanced back at them, no amusement in his expression. He was placid, and that
was all. He turned his back again.
It didn’t take nearly as long as Jungkook would have thought for them to be
riding on fairly flat ground again. It was snowing at the top of the mountains,
meaning more rain for the forest sometime soon. Not that Jungkook would be
there for it. The thought made his stomach drop.
After another short incline, the city started abruptly. It was surrounded by
high walls- probably a safety precaution, considering many homes were at the
edge of a cliff or in a cliff. There were also staircases along the cobblestone
streets, leading down into the mountain itself, and Jungkook touched Seokjin’s
shoulder gently before pointing.
“Ah,” Seokjin avowed, “My infamous inverted apartments. I’m sure you’ve heard
of them. I assure you, they’re very safe, but I can see how the thought may be
unappealing to some.”
“People are allowed to come appeal to the King if they’re too uncomfortable or
claustrophobic in them,” Jimin explained. One of the townspeople who was coming
up one of the sets of stairs, some ruffled looking early riser with rosy cheeks
already, waved at Jimin and bowed to Seokjin. Jimin waved back, grinning cutely
at the woman, who hurried from the cold into a shop. Jungkook was truly
bewildered by the interaction. He wasn’t sure what he expected- a cold sort of
respect between Seokjin and his people, maybe, but not such warm greetings
between them. They even treated Jimin sweetly- whatever Jimin’s role was in the
palace. Based on how little Jungkook had ever heard about Jimin, he assumed not
many people truly knew what he did. Apparently he wasn’t super important,
considering his comment about Seokjin’s troops being hesitant to follow his
orders, but still influential enough that they did listen in the end.
The streets were mostly deserted as they continued. It was still pretty early,
and the mountain people seemed hesitant to start their day, as it was a
weekend. Sunday, the holy day of rest- at least, that was what Jungkook was
taught. He thought maybe the mountain kingdom just saw it as an excuse for late
starts and early ends to their days. It was… cute, in a way, all these sleepy
people bundled in fur and skins and boots, their tanned faces paler than those
of the forest, and tipped with pink on their noses and cheekbones. Jungkook
liked it on the mountain, he decided. He liked these people. But, despite
barely knowing his own people, he missed the forest citizens already. He missed
the forest in general. The mountain was like stepping into a whole new world, a
white wonderland that Jungkook rarely saw in the forest, even during these
colder seasons. The air was thinner, crisper, and the roads were salted and
sanded to prevent slippery ice, and everything smelled fresh. The lack of pine
scent was jarring, in a way, as that was what Jungkook grew up knowing and
smelling every day. He wondered what they grew up here, if anything, or if
their trade system with the forest was what they relied on for fruits and
vegetables. He wondered what they hunted- the deer and the rabbits, like the
forest people? Or did they raise farm animals like the cliffs? How did they
feed them? How did they fight the cold? He had a million questions, yet no will
in his throat to ask them. He thought, feeling a little silly as he did, if he
should write them.
He shook it off for the moment, as he saw tall towers appear in the distance,
through the snow flurries. Visibility was limited here, like in the forest,
except instead of simply being obstructed by trees, there was a weird cold fog
in the air. Jungkook suddenly thought with a bit of alarm, are we in the
clouds? Again, he felt a little stupid for thinking it, but he genuinely didn’t
know much about the mountains- his father loathed Seokjin and the previous Kim
so much that he often brushed over any information regarding their kingdom. He
was amazed by it, and its frozen loveliness. He hated the cold of his own
palace, but this was different, in a way. A cold place with warm people.
Jungkook was beginning to think he only disliked his own palace for the cold
people, his cold father, instead of the cold design.
While Jungkook’s palace covered a fair amount of space length and width wise,
Seokjin’s landscape made it so the only option for a large palace was to build
up. Jungkook had to crane his neck as they drew closer, Jimin smirking a little
at his amazement. He knew he looked like a child ogling something new and
exciting- and that was exactly what he was doing. He was so sheltered his whole
life. He could only read of places like these, towers so high, snow so white,
air so crisp. He smiled. He couldn’t help it. Seokjin glanced over his shoulder
as Jimin giggled at Jungkook, to catch Jungkook’s brown eyes wide and watery
and charmed by the atmosphere. Seokjin laughed, too, a tiny little chuckle that
Jungkook felt more than heard.
“Just wait until we’re inside,” Jimin warned Jungkook playfully, spiking the
king’s curiosity even more. He was glad for the small distraction from his own
kingdom, at least for the moment. Those were thoughts for later, when he had
settled and bathed and slept well.
Upon entering the gates, guarded by twin towers with long, sharp icicles
hanging from their roofs, Jungkook was very eager to get inside and see more.
More men in guard uniforms came out, the colors of their coats a rich red that
was stark against the snow and cold. They helped their king down first, then
Jungkook, and finally Jimin, who did not bow. Once again, Jungkook was
questioning Jimin’s position of power in the palace, but it was an inquiry for
another time. Seokjin led the way into the palace itself, where guards opened
the large, dark wooden double doors for them, and Jungkook’s breath was stolen.
It was the antithesis of Jungkook’s forest palace. A red carpet like the colors
the guards wore was laid upon the ground leading to the throne. Jungkook
suspected Seokjin was the type of king to accept hearings, and this was the
most convenient setup for that, guests able to walk right in, wait their turn
in one of the branching sitting rooms to the immediate left and right of the
front doors, then approach him. And the throne itself- lavish gold and red, the
perfect picture of regality and oozing power. The throne was huge, and Jungkook
imagined anyone without Seokjin’s impressive, broad frame would just look
ridiculous sitting in it, but when Seokjin approached it with an appreciative
sigh, saying, “It’s good to be home,” and taking a seat- he fit the scene
naturally. Jimin followed Seokjin down the carpet to the throne, which was up
two steps, and got on his knees beside the golden, ornate leg of the chair. He
gazed up at Seokjin, half expectantly, half hopefully, and Seokjin spared
Jungkook a quick glance before reaching to run a hand through Jimin’s hair,
damp with snow. Jungkook could only watch, speechless and confused. Do I have
to do that, too? But no one else was- no guard, nor any of the other court
members milling about, who were ignoring the scene as if it were casual.
Perhaps it was, for the mountain people, or just for Jimin.
They didn’t linger that way long, however. While Jimin remained knelt, Seokjin
rose and beckoned Jungkook to follow him from the room, to the right of the
throne. Jungkook glanced back at Jimin, who had rested his head on the edge of
the seat and closed his eyes, seeming to have been waiting. When Seokjin began
to talk, Jungkook allowed his thoughts to move on. “Bathing seems to be your
comfort, so I’ll show you to your room. I’d like to keep you fairly close to
mine, so I’m sure one of my… servants wouldn’t mind sleeping elsewhere just for
tonight, or however long you need to stay. We don’t have a communal bath like
the forest, but the individual ones are quite large. Jimin can join you if you
prefer bathing with others. I’d offer to do so myself, but I have to catch up
with my advisor.”
Jungkook was very overwhelmed by all this information. Making a servant move
for him? Seokjin wanting Jungkook close? Jimin joining his bath? They weren’t
bad thoughts, really- rather nice, actually, and considerate, but that was what
made it a little uncomfortable.
It took many flights of stairs to reach Seokjin’s tower- and he considered it
Seokjin’s tower because every floor, every room, seemed to hold a room that
Seokjin seemed to hold dear. A small reading room here, a viewing room there, a
training room with Seokjin’s favorite weapons, a mini laboratory with simple
chemistry equipment. It was surprising, to Jungkook, that Seokjin seemed
intrigued by the sciences. The top floor of the tower had only three rooms on
it, one to either side of the top of the staircase, the other directly across
from it. Seokjin paused, looking between the rooms to the left and right for a
moment before choosing the left one and knocking. When no answer came, he
opened it, and Jungkook peered over his shoulder, finding it empty from what he
could see. It was a large bedroom, fit with a puffy brown duvet, white sheets,
a cozy black single couch, a small cherry wood table with three matching
chairs, and odd items lying around. Books, sketch paper, a thick black cloak
slung over a chair, little puzzle items.
Seokjin tsked, and entered the room, plucking a cream sweater off the floor and
folding it on the table. “He leaves such a mess.” Jungkook huffed a little
laugh, and Seokjin eyed him. “You like it, don’t you?” Jungkook nodded,
following him in, and felt his face warm for no reason. He did like it. It was
quaint and lived in and inviting. He imagined whoever’s room it was, the person
was soft and kind and quirky. “I suppose you would. You and him would get
along,” Seokjin said assuredly. “Anyways, I’ll have someone fetch Jimin to keep
you company.” Seokjin gave him a quick smile before he left. Jungkook opened
his mouth, still lost, but Seokjin’s back was already retreating from the room.
Jungkook pressed his lips together and looked around.
He went to the window on the far wall and looked at the view, the sheer height
dizzying to him. He stepped back, but couldn’t drag his eyes away, mesmerized
by the swirling snowfall and the tiny people below. The room to the left must
have had a few that dove straight off the cliff, and Seokjin’s to the backyard,
because Jungkook could only see an expanse of untouched ground beyond the
castle walls, save for a few trees bent from the weight of snow. He wasn’t sure
how long he stood marveling- long enough for Jimin to clear his throat behind
Jungkook, and Jungkook to in turn have a heart attack.
He sucked in a breath as he whirled, but after only finding Jimin’s softly
grinning face, he relaxed and pressed his palm to his chest. Jimin snorted a
laugh, and Jungkook allowed himself to do the same. “You wish to bathe?” Jimin
asked, head tilting, and oh, Jungkook thought, bathing with him will be
dangerous. For all Jimin’s demeanor could be soft and frankly adorable,
Jungkook had seen the way the man had presented himself, knelt at Seokjin’s
feet, closed his eyes and pressed for affection and attention. Jungkook nodded
anyways, and Jimin led the way into the ensuite bathroom. “I told my friend to
join us whenever he was ready,” Jimin informed Jungkook, “I hope you don’t
mind. While we don’t have social baths here, it’s happened before. We’re just
comfortable with our own and each other’s bodies.” Jungkook didn’t know if he
fully understood the implications of that or not, but decided it wasn’t his
business.
Jimin ran the bath, explaining how to do it in a soft, comforting tone while
Jungkook sat on the toilet seat and watched. The bath was large, as Seokjin
said it would be- definitely large enough to hold three men of their size with
comfort. It looked more like a small, hot pool instead of just a bath. Jungkook
had a feeling the bath was modified specifically to fit three people. Something
about the three rooms, the three men- to confirmed to be pretty, the large
baths, the large beds, so secluded… it all left Jungkook very unsure of
himself, if he was intruding. Different kingdom, he reminded himself as he
undressed, Jimin doing the same, revealing a smooth, toned body. Things are
different in every kingdom, especially compared to mine. I just don’t know
enough yet. That didn’t ease him entirely, though, more so just made him
realize how severely out of depth he was here. Jimin’s presence was nice,
though. Soothing. He got in the warm, deep bath with Jungkook, and while he
didn’t speak, he didn’t seem to have to in order to be comfortable. The silence
was warm and companionable in a way Jungkook rarely felt around people, in a
way other people rarely felt around Jungkook.
They did actually wash, too, Jimin leaning from the bath to dig around a
cabinet, eventually coming up with a few different soaps and shampoos. Jungkook
began washing his hair gently with something that smelled like citrus. “Ooh.”
The rest of Jimin’s body slipped back into the water, and he presented a jar of
rose petals mixed in which pink bath salts. “I didn’t know he had this.” He
uncapped the jar and sprinkled some in, the salts dissolving while the petals
floated gently on the surface. “Can’t keep secrets from me, Tae.”
Jungkook froze as he was dipping his head back to rinse his hair. He sat up,
the clean strands dripping rhythmically onto his shoulders. Jimin noticed, and
raised an eyebrow, screwing the top of the jar back on and setting it aside.
“What?” Jimin queried. “You’ve heard of him?” Jungkook could only shrug in
response. “And not me? Seokjin can be so cruel,” Jimin sighed, jokingly. But
Jungkook was still shaken. “What is it?” Jimin asked, gentler than before.
A knock on the door had both their heads turning. Neither of them spoke, but
the knocker entered anyways, in rich cotton clothes and ruffling snowflakes
from his hair. “Sorry, I was out riding.” The man finally looked up, and paused
upon seeing Jimin’s concern and Jungkook’s shock. Taehyung grinned, big and
boxy. “Jungkook is here? Jiminie, isn’t he as cool as I said?”
Jungkook raised a finger, pointing at Taehyung, lips parted, eyebrows drawn.
Jimin was looking between them, shifting restlessly. “I sense a weird
atmosphere,” he noted quietly, and Taehyung bit his lip, as if he knew the
situation wasn’t ideal, but was trying to pass it off anyways.
“We met before. I was traveling- on business, remember? Jungkook probably
thought I was a bandit, since I told him I used to be, and his servant Jisoo
kind of implied that I was just a kingdomless person. A rat. Which, I was, none
of that was a lie,” Taehyung explained, looking sheepish as he stripped off his
shirt. “I just failed to mention that Seokjin took me in last year.”
Jungkook made a distressed noise, but Jimin was laughing, and threw a splash at
Taehyung, who yelped and shied away, muttering something about my pants!
Jungkook chuckled nervously, too, but his mind was racing. Taehyung was here,
in Seokjin’s castle, presumably of the same mysterious rank as Jimin, comfy and
laughing and, well, naked as he climbed into the bath between Jungkook and
Jimin.
“That’s important information to just leave out,” Jimin scolded him, flicking a
rose petal his way. Taehyung blinked at the flower for a moment before
realizing what it was, why the water was a murky pink now.
“You used my bath salts!”
“It’s the least Jungkook deserves after you omitted that information and stole
his bed for a night.”
“We shared it,” Taehyung defended himself, but Jimin just rolled his eyes.
Their friendly exchange relaxed Jungkook a little, and slowly, as the two other
men bantered, Jungkook’s suspicion melted away. It was all rational, he
supposed. A misunderstanding. He felt stupid, and was a bit out of it until
Taehyung faux whispered to Jimin, “We also ki-”
Jungkook’s hand covered Taehyung’s mouth so fast it shocked everyone, including
Jungkook himself, who quickly withdrew it again with wide eyes and an unspoken
apology in his fluttering hands. Taehyung bursted out laughing so hard he
couldn’t even speak, which Jungkook figured worked just as well as his hand
would have.
Jimin, through his own surprised giggles, exclaimed, “What! You what!” He
leaned forward, past Taehyung’s writhing form, towards Jungkook. “King
Jungkook, you can’t just leave me in suspense! Did you kill something? Someone?
Ki… Kill… Kiss…” Jimin trailed off, and it dawned on him, making the widest
grin crack across his lips. “Kiss! You kissed!”
Taehyung sobered immediately, so abruptly it was alarming, and gave Jimin the
most serious look. “Don’t tell Seokjin.”
Jimin shook his head wildly. “Oh, no. Never.” Then, to Jungkook, with a sly
little smirk, “We don’t kiss and tell.” He propped his elbow on his bent knee
and leaned in again with hooded eyes, making Jungkook lean away a little. “But,
I do feel left out.”
Taehyung smacked Jimin’s shoulder with a wet slap, and both fell into laughter
again. Jungkook felt his face burning, and sunk lower into the water. The bad
thing about not speaking was not being able to defend himself. Not that he’d
know how to, in this situation. He’d only ever kissed Taehyung. He was so new
and- and virginal. He felt like he was on fire in that moment. They were
getting to caught up and drunk off the steamed, intimate environment of the
bath. Jungkook knew it was easy to do that when one wasn’t as used to it as he
was. The rose petals weren’t helping, and the way Jimin had begun to scrub at
Taehyung’s skin with a bar of textured soap, exfoliating gently. They were both
watching Jungkook, humored by his reactions and seemingly waiting. He just
blinked back at them blankly, lips pressed together.
“I don’t think he’s going to take up your offer, Jiminie. Sorry,” Taehyung
eventually drawled with an air of boasting. Jungkook startled, and Jimin
pouted.
“You guys are even informal with each other. I need to catch up somehow. Can I
call you Jungkook?” Jungkook nodded, appeasing Jimin. “Thank you. Now about
that kiss…”
Jungkook colored again, and Jimin tittered, but waded the short distance across
the bath to cage Jungkook with his arms. Taehyung made a small noise of
scandalous excitement, and Jungkook’s hands came up to cover his face, peering
out from between his wet fingers. Taehyung leaned over Jimin’s shoulder, two
bright, happy faces looking at the shy king.
“It’s okay, Jungkook,” Taehyung encouraged him.
“You can say no, if you really want to,” Jimin added. “Or… indicate no. Shake
your head. Something.”
Jungkook lowered his hands hesitantly. The atmosphere was getting to him now,
too. He didn’t shake his head. He found he didn’t really mind, if Jimin wanted
to kiss him. It felt juvenile, but in a good way that made Jungkook’s stomach
flutter. He nodded, once, so small that he was thinking maybe they wouldn’t
notice and brush it off as a no- but of course they noticed.
“Ooh,” Taehyung drawled, leaning back to give them space and wiggling his
eyebrows. Jungkook rolled his eyes, but he was just as nervous as the first
time.
Jimin pushed closer, and Jungkook forced himself to remain still. The black-
haired man only got so close before pausing, though, and looking over his
shoulder to Taehyung. “How far did you go?”
Taehyung looked smug. “Full tongue, of course.” Jungkook flushed all over
again.
Jimin’s head whipped back to Jungkook, who jumped and instinctively jerked back
a little. Jimin smiled coquettishly, and his eyes dropped to Jungkook’s mouth.
His head cocked to the side. “You’ll be so fun.” Jungkook realized he was
right; Jimin was dangerous to bathe with.
He felt Taehyung’s eyes on them as Jimin inclined his head forward, and
Jungkook closed his eyes, heart in his throat, until he felt the first press of
Jimin’s full, soft lips. He was warm from the steamed room, and surprisingly
gentle given his forwardness. Somewhere, Jungkook heard Taehyung sigh, and
murmur something about, “So pretty when he kisses.” Jungkook found he didn’t
find Taehyung watching- it heightened the tension in an intoxicating way, and
Jungkook became bold, being the first to part his lips, the first to invade
Jimin’s mouth when he opened his. That made Taehyung sigh again, pleased, and
the water shifted. Suddenly, still cages by Jimin’s arms, there was another set
of hands, carding through Jungkook’s wet hair and peppering kisses on his
shoulder. It was hard to keep his head between sucking on Jimin’s tongue and
the feeling of a hot mouth moving up to his neck- but, Jungkook knew his head
was already long gone.
When he pulled away to take in short little breaths, Jimin nuzzled Jungkook’s
cheek with his nose, smirking. “This is so forbidden,” Jimin whispered, voice
gone lower and raspy.
Taehyung also paused to simply rest his cheek against Jungkook’s shoulder,
agreeing, “Definitely shouldn’t be doing this with the king.”
King. The word shook Jungkook a little, and he came back to himself, opening
his eyes. Whatever Jimin found when he looked into them had the man brimming
with satisfaction. When Jungkook moved, Jimin let him, backing up to his
previous spot beside Taehyung, who also gave Jungkook space. The two watched as
Jungkook rose out of the bath, stepped out, and wrapped a towel around his
waist. His eyes were distant, his mind scrambled, his body temperature feverish
from the room. He cast the other man one last, disconcerted look before rushing
from the bathroom, closing the door on the. Jungkook looked around frantically
for a moment, before deciding to just allow himself to Taehyung’s clothes. It
was fairly obviously his room, Jungkook figured. The cloak on the chair was
his, he realized, the one he’d given to Taehyung thinking the man poorer and in
need. Jungkook felt disgusted. He felt scandalized, in a way. Taken advantage
of. He allowed it all, though. He indicated yes.
He founds suitable pants and a long-sleeved shirt to wear, still feeling warm
and flushed from the bath. Taehyung and Jimin remained in the bathroom until
Jungkook left the room, closing the door loud enough for them to hear, in case
they had given Jungkook space on purpose. He didn’t know how to feel after
leaving. And he didn’t know where to go. He was a stranger to this palace. What
he really, truly wanted was to sleep, and hope that maybe it was all just a
dream, and he’d wake up and relive his early morning the day before alone,
watching the rain, letting his tea grow cold.
Jungkook felt his lips quivering, and touched them gently with the wrinkled
pads of his damp fingers. There was a sharp pain in his sinuses. Panic. I’m
panicking. Suddenly, he was far too aware of his own breathing. He looked back
towards Taehyung’s room. No. Then Jimin’s. No, no. He looked to his left, and
prayed- yes, sent a quick worded prayer like he was taught only commoners did-
and tried the doorknob of Seokjin’s bedroom. When it opened, he pushed through
and closed himself in, hardly taking inventory of the lush reds and creams of
the room before falling face down into the large bed. Only the first breath
drew easy, the rest suffocating slowly, but he allowed it to ease his heart and
clear his mind before he rolled onto his side, facing the window across the
room. He felt wrong, laying in Seokjin’s bed, wearing Taehyung’s clothes,
smelling like him and Jimin while being surrounded by the smell of their king.
Lemon and rosemary, he guessed. It was nice, at the very least. But nothing fit
about the picture. The cold world outside. The warm hues inside. Jungkook, lips
kissed and mind troubled. Seokjin never did that, though. He’d never made
Jungkook afraid, or doubtful. So he let himself sleep, in the den of the
mountain king. He hoped, in his weak little heart, that all the intentions of
those he’d met had only been pure.
He wasn’t sure he could handle it, otherwise.
~~~
Jungkook woke to the sound of the door opening, just a click and a small sound
of alarm, but he was a light enough sleeper to be roused. He was still groggy
as he turned his head, Seokjin closing the door behind himself and regarding
Jungkook questioningly. “You’re here,” Seokjin stated. Jungkook forced himself
to sit up, and wiped at the corners of his eyes. It was later in the day, for
sure, but not too close to dark yet. Jungkook wondered just how long he’d
slept. His headache had returned with a vengeance, though.
Seokjin approached Jungkook slowly, and sat on the edge of the bed. Jungkook
tried not to look at the other king. He felt foolish. He didn’t know if Jimin
or Taehyung had said anything, but Seokjin gave no indication that he knew
anything. Don’t tell Seokjin, Taehyung had urged. This is so forbidden, Jimin
had whispered.
“What happened?” Seokjin asked, eyes traveling all over Jungkook. His mussed
hair, still vaguely damp in places; Taehyung’s clothes, a good fit, but
definitely not what he’d had on before; the half guilty, half self-loathing
expression. Seokjin changed his question. “What did Jimin do?” Jungkook
flinched in surprise. He didn’t mean to, but it gave away enough. Seokjin
sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to him.”
“No,” Jungkook breathed, eyes wide, and Seokjin’s head jerked up to look at
him. Seokjin’s lips were slightly parted, eyebrows drawn, and Jungkook felt
swirling, sickening emotions in his stomach. And then it growled, which gave
them both pause.
“Oh,” Seokjin murmured. The older king shook his head clear, and offered a
comforting smile. “I’m interrogating you when I should be feeding you. You must
be starving. Where are my manners, after you were such a gracious host?”
When Seokjin stood, Jungkook followed, slower, still wary. The last thing he
wanted was for Seokjin to scold Jimin when it was all Jungkook’s fault. He
allowed it, anyways. For the moment, however, Seokjin would be distracted
getting late lunch with Jungkook. Both of them hadn’t eaten since the day
before.
Seokjin led the way from his room, and Jungkook couldn’t help the nervous
sideways glance he gave Jimin’s room, but the door was closed and no one came
out seeking him. The palace was a lot more bustling than Jungkook’s generally
ever was, maids chattering contentedly with each other as they cleaned, guards’
boots pacing around the floors, people roaming around serving purposes Jungkook
couldn’t even begin to imagine- the Jeons only had their close, tight castle
security and cleaning crew, no extras, no one like Jimin or Taehyung just
laying around, looking pretty, kneeling at the feet of Jungkook’s silver
throne. He couldn’t even picture his castle like that. In Seokjin’s, it fit. It
was genial and pleasant. The dining room only reinforced the atmosphere. A
long, dark wood table with centerpieces made of the sunflowers Jungkook read
about from the cliffs. They must have been a gift from Namjoon, the closer of
the two cities, which was odd considering the cold shoulder Namjoon had given
Seokjin when they met at Jungkook’s palace.
Seokjin gestured for Jungkook to take a seat, so he sat beside the head of the
table, which Seokjin himself took. “It will probably take a while,” Seokjin
spoke with apology, “I gave them such short notice, so they’ll try to prepare
something quick and easy.”
Quick and easy came out a half hour later, and ended up being hare soup,
garnished with seasoning, thick broth, and an assortment of vegetables. On the
side, there were options of soft, fresh rolls with butter or olive oil, hard
garlic biscuits to be dipped in the soup, or simple crackers flaked with green
and salt. Jungkook was familiar with most of it, but had never had hare soup.
Rabbits were less considered food, more considered pets in the forest, which
made it a little sad to Jungkook, but all such thoughts were out the door as
soon as he tried a spoonful. It was tender and warm and mingled with the
flavors of the broth magnificently. Seokjin was watching Jungkook around his
own spoon, finding the easy pleasures of the young king endearing. His soft-
lipped smile faded, however, and Jungkook turned to look-
Taehyung plopped down in the seat next to Jungkook, while Jimin traveled to the
other side of the table to sit across from him. Seokjin sent the man a stern
look, which Jimin completely missed as servants placed meals down in front of
him and Taehyung, the latter of which immediately stuffing his mouth with
bread. He moaned loudly, and Seokin’s head twitched. “Taehyung,” the king
started quietly, coldly, and Taehyung immediately stopped. “Show some respect
for our guest by using your manners.”
Taehyung swallowed thickly to get the bread down, and said a quick, “Sorry,
Jungkook.”
“Taehyung,”came Seokjin’s harsh tone again. The man really could go from sweet
and amiable to strict ruler in a second. It wasn’t scary, not in the way
Jungkook’s father used to scare him, and certainly not in the ways Seokjin’s
father was described. Rather, it was authoritative, commanding respect. A regal
trait that Jungkook lacked. He was finding, lately, that he lacked a lot of the
traits he should as king.
“He said we could address him casually!”
Seokjin looked to Jungkook, and Jungkook nodded, forcing his chin to stay up.
He couldn’t cower, couldn’t show shame. Seokjin sighed. “Very well. Table
manners, though, Tae.”
Taehyung visibly relaxed beside Jungkook, and Jimin was keeping his head down,
invested in his food to avoid Seokjin’s sharpness. Jungkook had a bad feeling
Jimin would get an earful later, though, if Jungkook failed to explain that he
did nothing wrong. He would. It was childish not to take responsibility, even
in his muteness. Be a king, he told himself. He didn’t feel like one. He hadn’t
sunk into the role enough in his one week being crowned, and with it all having
been ripped away from him, he truly felt empty-handed. Even his crown was left
behind. Jungkook had no symbol of power, no means of using his power from here,
in a foreign kingdom. He was utterly in the hands of Seokjin. The mountain king
had shown him great kindness thus far, and all Jungkook could do was hope he
continued to be treated that way until he heard from Jisoo.
After they had all cleaned their plates and were preparing to go off for
leisure time, Seokjin murmured across the table, “Jimin, see me a moment.”
Jimin looked stricken, and his eyes darted to Jungkook. They weren’t afraid,
per se, but nervous and sorry for sure. Jungkook grasped Seokjin’s arm, and the
mountain king turned to the younger in question. Jungkook met his confusion
with squareness. His throat was itching with the words caught in it. Seokjin
knew. Saw the way Jungkook’s throat worked desperately, the way his lips
parted, his eyebrows low in determination. Jimin and Taehyung were frozen,
stood from their chairs, watching in silent anticipation. It felt like the
world was holding its breath for Jungkook. But it’s not. No staff was present,
only the three other men, two of which had heard his utterances before.
Jungkook deflated, feeling like the weight of a million pairs of eyes was
dropping off his shoulders as all he could say was, “Jimin did nothing wrong.”
Seokjin stared at him for long, agonizing seconds. Jimin’s expression was
tragically guilty, but Jungkook knew it had all been innocent. Fun, hazy times
in the bath. That was all. But Jungkook was king, and it was inappropriate for
him to allow. Even on a personal level, he should have known himself better,
enough to realize his nerves and say no. When Seokjin nodded, once, curtly,
Jungkook shuddered and turned away, finally able to bow his head and back down.
The situation defused.
“Okay, Jungkook,” Seokjin relented. He twitched, as if he was going to leave,
but paused to say, “Thank you.” Then he swept from the room, shoulders tensed
with some emotion unknown to Jungkook.
Jungkook looked to Jimin and Taehyung, eyebrows drawn, but Jimin was staring at
the floor in a submissive manner completely different from the way he’d
regarded Jungkook when they came in on horseback just that morning. Taehyung
was glancing between them, uncertain.
“Thank you,” Taehyung repeated his king’s words, and also left without sparing
Jungkook anything else. Jungkook opened his mouth. He noticed he did that a lot
lately- actually had words to say, but yet he still couldn’t force them out
most of the time. Jimin slowly went around the table to Jungkook’s side, and
got on his knees, making the young king step back in surprise, watching with
silent interest.
Jimin kept his head low as he said, “Thank you, King Jungkook. And- I’m sorry.”
Jungkook made a small noise, and Jimin flinched, finally looking up with the
most sincere eyes. The duality of the man at Jungkook’s feet would probably
never fail to shock the king. “Why-?” Jungkook asked hoarsely, the word seeming
to catch in the air and dissolve, making it sound weak.
JImin sagged, shoulders falling from their posture, and his head tilted in
sympathy. Except, it didn’t belittle Jungkook this time. Jimin dragged himself
to his feet, bowed once, and left. Jungkook stood alone in the dining room,
until servants bagan filtering in to clear plates. One approached him, shorter
than Jungkook and with a young, attractive countenance. His uniform was crisp,
and he bounced with energy, just a little. He gave a bow, shorter than Jimin’s,
more out of courtesy. “Would you like an escort to the common room, King Jeon?”
“Jungkook,” the king murmured in response.
“King Jungkook,” the man amended, smiling pleasantly. “My name is Chan, I’m
part of the ground floor staff.”
Jungkook nodded. “Show me the commons, please?”
“Of course.”
As they walked, Jungkook reflected. He felt something in the atmosphere of
Seokjin’s palace, something that he drowned in, a litte. It was like a madness,
slowly seeping into his system and rewiring his brain. It was all an illusion,
he knew. A result of his losses recently, most likely. Seokjin’s kingdom was
beautiful, and Jungkook just wished he could revel in it a little bit without
feeling so… weird. Something felt off, the way Jimin and Taehyung acted,
especially around Seokjin. Even the sprightly servants, like Chan, appeared to
Jungkook to have an odd surrealism about them. They’re so happy, so loyal, so
full of duty. Jungkook supposed he only found it weird because all his life,
his father only told him horrible things about the Kim rulers. Things like
forced labor, and unnecessarily brutal punishment, making examples, sex
workers, hoarding of the nation’s wealth. Seokjin’s palace was extravagant,
yes, but no more than Jungkook’s, or the artistry he’d seen of Namjoon’s and
Hoseok’s.
He suddenly felt a spike of something odd, thinking about the other kings. He
had a really awful feeling, like one of them, maybe even both of them, were in
on what happened the night before. Both of them were nowhere in sight. What if
they were taken? Hurt? Killed? Jungkook reasoned with himself, angry, and felt
more awful by the second.
When Chan finally stopped at a door, he opened it for Jungkook before bowing
again and leaving him. Seokjin was waiting inside, Jimin leant against his arm,
Taehyung cross-legged on the floor against Seokjin’s opposing leg. Taehyung was
setting up a game on the coffee table in front of him. The scene seemed right,
to Jungkook, who had worried he’d unsettled whatever odd closeness the three
had with each other. They seemed happy again, though, Jimin’s eyes hooded
sleepily as he pressed his cheek into Seokjin’s shoulder, a white blanket over
him, and Taehyung absently fiddling with game pieces. Seokjin’s hair was
tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it, but it gave him a less intense
look that Jungkook rather liked. They all looked up as Jungkook stepped into
the room, wooden beams above him, a fur carpet, brick fireplace, a chandelier
made of the antlers of bucks. Seokjin smiled softly, a million times more
relaxed, and once again Jungkook felt that madness creeping it. It was calm
this time, though, just a pleasant warmth that was infectious due to the soft
lighting and woodsy scent of the low fire.
“Chess?”
Chapter End Notes
     So, things got away from me in this one, and I was forced to kind of
     bring it back in the end? You either get what I was trying to do, or
     you don't, but this is what happened and I guess we'll just have to
     wait for the next one to see how it will spiral further. Let me know
     what you thought, since this one felt a little weird to me for some
     reason!
     Also, this was the last of my pre-written chapters so um... pray for
     me, because I average 8,000 words per chapter and I'm writing two
     chapters per week (one is for a different project) AND I'm writing
     every night with some of my friends (again, different thing, about
     1,000 words per night). So, yeah, feedback, because it'll keep my
     attention on this story and help me along.
     ~MC
***** All Them Secrets Behind Wars *****
Chapter Notes
     Haha, you may have thought I slacked, but I did not! Warning, though,
     things get confusing, but they're supposed to be, so don't worry.
     Title from Blood by Paul Butcher and Taylor Hill.
Days passed in Jungkook’s stay at Seokjin’s palace. His concern over his own
kingdom was a constant itch at the back of his brain as he went through the
days. The atmosphere of the castle had settled over him, caught him up in it,
and he was comfortable now. He knew several of the servants by then, finding
Chan and his friends Hansol, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan. Hansol and Seungkwan
worked on the second floor mostly, where there were leisure rooms rather than
the first floor, where there were meeting rooms, and Soonyoung worked in
Seokjin’s tower. Soonyoung was a wild card, and he pumped up his friend group
so much whenever he was around. One late night, when Jungkook had been
literally sick with worry, face pale and hands clammy, he’d stumbled upon
Soonyoung sneaking from the kitchen with armfuls of cookie containers. They’d
both frozen when they’d seen each other. It must have been past midnight, and
most of the lights in the hallways were out, but once they realized who the
other was, they laughed and Soonyoung invited him back to the servants’
quarters. Instead of being roomed by job or floor, Seokjin allowed them to
choose their rooms every year. Of course, Chan, Soonyoung, Hansol, and
Seungkwan had shared the same room for years, and plan to continue to do so.
They welcomed Jungkook into their little party with open arms, and offered him
wine and cookies. They must have spent hours just laughed over stupid things
Soonyoung did and drinking and eating. They encouraged words from Jungkook, and
Jungkook, letting go of his qualms in his tipsy state, allowed it.
“What’s the forest like?” Seungkwan asked at one point, upside down on his bed.
“Trees,” Jungkook answered shortly, too busy watching Hansol poke Seungkwan’s
belly where his shirt had ridden up. Soonyoung snorted.
“What are the people like? As much fun as us?” Chan asked. He was doing some
charade of a slow dance with Soonyoung on top of a table, to no music, which
was funny.
Jungkook pursed his lips. “They’re warm. And nice.” Jungkook sighed. “They
deserve better.”
“What!” Soonyoung screeched, and Chan groaned, leaning his head away from the
other man as much as he could, still tangled in each other’s arms. “You’re
great, don’t say that.”
Jungkook shrugged, and finished his glass of wine, standing up from Hansol’s
bed, which they said was “virtually unused.” Soonyoung cheered when Jungkook
shakily climbed onto the table with them, and Seungkwan fell over himself
rushing to join. Hansol put a track on the record and it was something upbeat
and crazy, nothing he’d ever heard, having grown up on classical music. They
danced like fools until the sun came up, when Hansol and Seungkwan collapsed in
a sweaty, giggly pile on Seungkwan’s bed, Soonyoung had his pants off and was
using them as a blanket on the floor, and Chan was singing nonsensically from
his bed where Jungkook was tucking him in. He shut the record off and left the
room, killing the lights and snickering one last time at the drunken mess of
humans he’d left behind. He stumbled through the halls, the dawn leaking in
through the windows, and he became increasingly aware of the fact that he had
no idea where he was. He found it quite amusing, for the moment. He’d never
been to the servants’ quarters, so while he was a little more familiar with the
rest of the castle, that was the one place he was walking blindly still.
It was Taehyung who found him. The man looked like he also had not slept. He
rarely did, at night, Jungkook had grown to learn after one too many encounters
in the evenings. They hadn’t talked much since the first day- or, Taehyung
hadn’t talked at Jungkook since the first day. He was surprised to see Jungkook
just wandering, clearly drunk, and stopped him.
“Jungkook? What are you doing here?” He asked in his deep, somber voice.
Jungkook looked around. Everywhere looked the same to Jungkook in his state.
“Here?” He questioned, and Taehyung’s eyebrow twitched up a little. Jungkook
hadn’t spoken again after the first day, either.
“In the servants’ halls.”
Oh. Jungkook wasn’t sure how he was still in that wing of the castle,
considering how long he’d seemed to have been wandering. Jungkook snorted, and
started laughing at himself, tripping over his own feet as he got close enough
to Taehyung to lean against him. The feel of the man’s body was still familiar
from when he was at Jungkook’s castle. Jungkook hummed. “Drank. Drunk.”
“I… can see that,” Taehyung said haltingly, and gripped Jungkook’s shoulders to
hold him at length. Jungkook whined petulantly. He wanted to go to bed. He was
tired and wanted to sleep away his inevitable hangover instead of puking
through it. He wriggled enough to free himself, but instead of moving back, he
pressed right back in, against Taehyung’s chest this time. His arms wound
around the older man’s middle.Taehyung was stiff, unsure of himself for once.
“Take me to bed,” Jungkook asked into Taehyung’s shirt.
Taehyung chuckled, and Jungkook felt his body shake. “Oh, Jungkook, how I’d
love to.”
Jungkook didn’t even have the mind to feel embarrassed.
Taehyung did his duty to bring Jungkook to bed- Taehyung’s bed. Taehyung had
been rooming with Jimin, and from what Jungkook has sensed, Taehyung and Jimin
were in some sort of relationship part way between platonic and sexual.
Jungkook tried not to think too much about it, for his own sake.
“Who did you get drunk with, Jungkook?” Taehyung asked as he flopped Jungkook
onto his back, landing buoyantly on the mattress. Jungkook shifted, clumsily
trying to get out of his pants, and Taehyung rolled his eyes before helping,
highly amused.
“Soonyoung’s fault,” is all Jungkook managed as he harrumphed and lifted his
hips so Taehyung could drag his pants down. When he was effectively pantsless,
he stopped squirming and sighed contentedly, closing his eyes. The mattress
dipped as Taehyung crawled up next to him and brought the blankets over their
bodies. When Jungkook peeked an eye open, Taehyung had his head propped on his
hand, looking down at the king. “What?”
“I just want to hear you talk some more before you sleep, since you’ll probably
stop when you wake up.”
Jungkook frowned, bottom lip sticking out. “Why do people care?” He wondered
softly, mostly to himself, then stared at the ceiling to make patterns in the
dim light.
“You have a nice voice. And you’re fun to talk to. You’re fun in general,
though.”
“Hm.” Jungkook yawned, eyes closing again. “I’ll regret opening my stupid
mouth.”
He heard Taehyung sigh, melancholic. Jungkook could be annoyed that everyone
wanted to make him talk- but he wasn’t. They just didn’t know, didn’t
understand why. He couldn’t mess up around these people, not when they were his
only safety in the world at the moment, away from his kingdom, his servants,
his guard. He even missed his Hermes- Seokmin was probably the most
understanding of his palace people. What will the court think of me when I
return? Will they think me weak for fleeing? It was hard not to have been swept
away at the time- Seokjin had been at his door so suddenly, whisking him away
to safety- and he was grateful, but what if? What if he had stayed? What if he
had fought alongside his guards? He would at least have known what had happened
to each one of them. He would at least have known what had happened to his
kingdom. Coward.
 
“Jungkook?” Taehyung murmured, close to his ear, and a soft touch came to his
cheek. Jungkook startled a bit, and blinked his eyes open. Taehyung’s finger
drew away from Jungkook’s face wet.
“I’m going home, Taehyung,” Jungkook spoke quietly, voice low. Taehyung’s
breath caught at his own name, at the words that preceded them. “When I wake up
later, I’m going.”
“Jungkook-”
“I have to know.”
They were both quiet after that. Taehyung dropped from his elbow and buried his
face into Jungkook’s shoulder until the younger man fell asleep, still drunk
and still watery-eyed, just wanting to wake up sober and go. That atmosphere-
it had dragged him too far under. The forest comes first. He couldn’t believe
he’d let himself forget that, even for the few days he’d stayed with Seokjin.
My warm, gentle forest people come first. Not Seokjin, not Taehyung or Jimin,
not the mountain people- his forest.
~~~
“We didn’t agree to this.”
Another hard hit. Jisoo spit blood. He remained silent still, though, as he had
since he got there. He was practically numb to it now: the way his wrists and
ankles were scratched and chafed, the way his cheekbones were painted with
bruises, the way the food they fed him churned his stomach. His shoulder was
worse than ever, his arms having been drawn behind his back tightly, keeping it
in a position where it throbbed constantly.
The commander glanced at Yoongi, whose jaw was set, eyes harsh, infuriated by
the treatment of Jisoo, who had done nothing. The commander rolled his eyes and
took off his brass knuckles, flexed his fingers once they were freed. “I just
follow orders.” He picked up a dagger and started looking through several jars
of labeled liquids.
Yoongi strode forward and grabbed the hand that held the blade, squeezing at
the wrist until the commander dropped it, gaze unimpressed as he looked down
upon the Seaside’s leader. “Well, here are my orders: you’re done.”
“You know I only take orders from-”
Yoongi gripped harder with his one hand, his other coming up to the commander’s
jacket, bringing them closer. “When I say you’re done,” Yoongi whispered
venomously, “you’re fucking done, Wonwoo.”
Wonwoo narrowed his eyes, and jerked away from Yoongi’s grip. Yoongi allowed
him, and watched as the sullen man left the cell, door ajar behind him. Yoongi
eventually drifted his attention back to Jisoo, who was watching with his
sunken, heavily bagged eyes. They were lifeless and far away. Yoongi noticed
that long ago, and realized that Jisoo was coping- he was keeping his
conscience far away from his body to keep himself from spilling anything. But
he was coming back, since Wonwoo had left. He knew Yoongi wouldn’t hurt him,
not like Wonwoo’s torture.
“What, exactly,” Jisoo began, words garbled from his cut lower lip and swollen
cheek and abused jaw, “was the purpose of that?”
Yoongi scoffed. “Did you not hear any of the questioned he asked?”
Jisoo lifted his head, the chains around his throat clinking as they shifted.
Gravely, he said, “He never asked any questions.”
Yoongi’s fists tightened, balled at his sides, and his lip twitched in a sneer
of anger. “Bastard,” he growled to himself, and Jisoo’s head tilted- more
lolled in its lazy movement.
“Who?” Jisoo coughed, forcing him to pause. “Wonwoo, or the person he takes
orders from?”
Yoongi chuckled humorlessly. “Both, I suppose.”
“What information did you want?”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, and approached Jisoo carefully, the sound of his
boots echoing in the commodious cell. “Are you willing to give answers?”
Jisoo shrugged- tried to, but he ended up winces, neck curling towards his
injured shoulder. Yoongi pitied him, but knew he couldn’t simply unchain the
man. “The forest kingdom has little to hide. We’re a simple region. Simple-
minded rulers who followed blindly in their ancestors’ footsteps. Simple way of
life for both the people and the royal family. Our kingdom… it was stagnant.”
“Until Jungkook.”
“Until King Jungkook.”
Yoongi nodded once, and began to pace. Jisoo watched, his own legs aching to
stretch, to move at all. Yoongi’s hair was pale greenish-blue. Minty. Jisoo
wondered how he got it that way. Dyed hair wasn’t even heard of in the forest-
Jisoo had only ever seen King Hoseok’s hair, but that at least was a natural
color. It was jarring, to Jisoo, to see such a bold dye on someone. He’d never
have guessed the Seaside Domain’s leader to look as he did, small and thin with
paler skin than Jisoo and bright mint hair. He’d always imagined quite the
opposite, actually.
“There’s nothing to tell,” Jisoo insisted, sighing, chest deflating. “Our court
was against King Jungkook’s ideas, simply because they were different, but his
Hermes and I thought they were good ideas. We thought the other kingdoms would
support him.”
“I don’t own a kingdom.”
“But you answer to one.” Yoongi gave Jisoo a sharp look at that, but all Jisoo
said in addition was, “I don’t know who, not yet. You’ve been careful not to
let it slip.” Then, “Who are you protecting? Clearly your mind has changed. So
have the others. King Hoseok, King Seokjin, and King Namjoon were in on this,
were they not? They got out- albeit, one of them is also running this whole
fucked up situation. Even so, they all went running back to their palaces,
whether they’re in on it or not. Why didn’t you?”
“We’re done with this conversation,” Yoongi decided abruptly, turning to leave.
“Why am I here, Min Yoongi? Why are you here? Why are you torturing me for
answers you don’t even need?”
Yoongi slams the cell door shut behind him, the heavy bolts clicking. Jisoo is
left to bleed and hurt, with only the reverberating metallic sounds lingering,
until utter silence takes over. His consciousness slips back, far far away. He
daydreams of home.
~~~
Breakfast was tense. Taehyung had broken the news, upon Jungkook’s request, and
Seokjin had yet to give any sort of emotional reaction. It was a simple, “Oh,”
and then he had sipped his coffee and returned to eating, the rest of them
following suit. Jungkook wanted to know his thoughts, but at the same time, he
didn’t care whether Seokjin approved of his decision or not. He had to know.
He’d shirked his duties as king long enough, it was past due time to return
home and check on his palace and, more importantly, his people.
Seokjin dabbed at his face with his napkin, and Jungkook ceased pushing his
food around to look to the head of the table. “So, you plan to return to your
palace, then?” Seokjin asked, tone conversational. Jungkook released a stressed
breath. “I’ll accompany you, if you’d like, just to make sure you arrive safely
and there’s no threat waiting.”
Jungkook shook his head. He felt showing up with Seokjin by his side like his
protector- which he was, Jungkook didn’t die, but- it wouldn’t look good. He’d
seem weak, especially to his court. Seokjin frowned, and prepared to protest,
but Taehyung spoke up, looking sheepish about cutting of his king.
“Jiminie and I could take him,” he offered, shrugging. “There’d be no harm in
that, right?”
“I distinctly recall something bad happening last time I allowed all three of
you to be alone together,” Seokjin said pointedly, and Jimin pressed his lips
together guiltily, Jungkook snorted a little laugh, and Seokjin raised his
eyebrow, grinning to show he was joking. “But I suppose, if you want to. I’ll
miss you all, though. It’s been nice, having so much company.” Then, with a
more serious note, “I expect you to act as impromptu guards for him. You’re
both well trained enough.”
“Jungkook’s probably better trained than us,” Taehyung admitted, “He’s wicked
with a bow. Almost shot me out of a tree.”
Seokjin’s eyebrows twitched downwards, and Taehyung realized what he’d said.
“When did this happen?”
Before Taehyung could flounder for an answer, a messenger breezed into the
room. She bowed shortly, and Seokjin stood. “Sir, your court would like a
meeting to brief you on… some things.”
Seokjin nodded sharply, and threw over his shoulder, “I shouldn’t be long.
Please wait so I can see you off.” Then he swept from the room, his lavish
burgundy cloak wavering after him.
Jungkook met eyes with Taehyung, who was holding in laughter, and Jimin, who
was smirking. “You two cause so much trouble, don’t you?” Jimin guessed, adding
as an afterthought, “And it’s all Taehyung’s fault.”
Jungkook nodded fervently, and Taehyung protested, “No! I’m a great influence.”
Jungkook shook his head as fervently as he had just nodded it, and Jimin
giggled. “Come on, King Jungkook. Let’s all get ready.” Jimin had taken to
tacking on that king before Jungkook’s name ever since the first night, seeming
to need that reminder, that separation.
They prepared all they had- Jungkook with very little, Taehyung throwing
everything in a bag, Jimin taking it all out to fold and put back in along with
his own clothes. They both put on thin chest plates, an emblem of mountain
peaks behind a crescent of leaf fronds on their right breasts, and each had a
sword strapped to their belts. Jungkook was given a quiver of arrows, gold-
tipped with elegant, soft brown feathers of snow birds, and a sleek bow with
ornate golden vines serving as grip around the middle of the arch. Besides, the
wood itself was dark and polished.
“Keep it,” Jimin insisted, as Jungkook tested the draw and smiled softly at the
feel of it.
Jungkook lowered it, and looked to Jimin. He began to shake his head, but
Jimin’s small, smooth hand fell over the one Jungkook had wrapped around the
weapon. “It’s a gift, King Jungkook. Keep it.”
“It’s his favor- like a handkerchief, but cooler,” Taehyung reiterated, and put
a hand over his heart. “You wouldn't reject a favor from our kingdom’s most
prized piece of a-”
Jimin turned to grab Taehyung’s arm and brutally smack his wrist with two
fingers, making the younger shriek and try to twist away. Once again, Jungkook
found himself grinning fondly at the two. As sickly worried he was about
returning home, not knowing what he’d find, he had a feeling the two of them
would make the trip much more manageable.
When Seokjin reappeared, he looked grim, but painted on a smile for them. “It
feels too soon,” he admitted to Jungkook, “but I know you know what you have to
do for your kingdom.”
Jungkook nodded affirmatively. Then, to his utter shock, Seokjin came forward,
grasped his biceps, and placed a lingering kiss to his cheek. He repeated the
gesture quicker, more familiarly, with Taehyung and Jimin. “Don’t bother
Jungkook for too long, especially while he’s getting his court back in order.”
They went on their way quickly, wanting to hurry to make it before nightfall.
The good thing about his and Seokjin’s kingdoms were that they were flush, so
it made for easy travel, especially since Jungkook’s capital was fairly close
to the curl of the mountain’s base.
The day was perfect, crisp but immaculately clear, blue skies and bright sun
serving as a harsh contrast to the snow, which faded fast as they gained
distance downward from the peak. Taehyung kept looking around, pointing out
birds and hares. He was beaming, happy, relaxed. Jimin was looking at Taehyung
with some soft expression, and Jungkook was watching Jimin with a full heart.
When Jimin turned, catching Jungkook’s eye, he opened his mouth to speak, but
all that came out is a choked noise, his cheery crescent eyes going wide.
Jungkook’s eyebrows drew together, and Taehyung whipped around and sucked in a
breath.
Jimin slumped on his horse, groaning but still conscious, an arrow protruding
from his left shoulder blade. In a fluid movement, Jungkook unslung his own bow
and reached for an arrow, not yet drawing so he could tug on his reins and halt
his horse. Taehyung stopped as well, and Jimin’s followed suit of the two that
flanked it, looking around and snuffling, it’s front hooves shuffling in the
dirt nervously. Taehyung drew his sword, and began circling his horse around
Jungkook and Jimin protectively. Not a sound reached them.
“We have to go back,” Taehyung murmured, eyeing Jimin worriedly.
Jungkook looked forward down the path, biting his lip. They were so close to
the base of the mountain… but Jimin was hurt, and there were clearly hostile
people around targeting them. It was a warning shot. An ambush would have
happened in a flurry of arrows and people attacking. Jungkook beckoned Taehyung
to pull up beside him, and leaned across his horse. “You two go.”
Taehyung huffed a surprised laugh. “Are you crazy? They want to hurt you,
whoever it is.”
Jungkook doubted that entirely. They didn’t want to hurt him, but they would-
if he got any closer to his kingdom. But a little part of Jungkook suspected it
was Taehyung and Jimin they didn’t want going with Jungkook. They wanted
Jungkook alone. For what purpose, he wasn’t sure. Capture? Torture? Why, why,
why? Why me? I haven’t done anything yet.
“Go,” Jungkook repeated. “They won’t hurt you if you turn back.”
Taehyung’s face hardened. He glanced between Jungkook and Jimin, who was
looking up. “Jungkook,” Jimin grunted, and grit his teeth while he forced
himself to sit up again. “You must realize, we aren’t leaving your side. If you
decide to go forward, we will, too.” His small hand scrambled at his side for
his sword, and he drew it shakily, straightening his spine in defiance.
Jungkook winced at the sight of the arrow shifting where it was lodged in his
back. “We’re here to protect you.”
“No,” Jungkook murmured. He had to go to his kingdom. It had been too long. The
fact that people were trying to keep him from it just proved that he needed to
take action. He returned his arrow to its quiver and grabbed hold of his reins
again. “Stay. I’m going.”
Jimin also took his reins in one hand, and raised an eyebrow at Jungkook as if
daring him. Taehyung growled. “Jungkook, he’s stubborn. He will do it, even
hurt. Don’t make him.”
Jungkook met Taehyung’s eyes, voice growing intense and harsh. “I do not care
if my words hurt you two right now. Jimin has an arrow in his back. You, take
him back. Force him if you have to. I am going forward, as my duty to my
people.” He paused, looking down at his fist, squeezed tight around the leather
in his hand. “That is an order.”
Jimin’s mouth tightened into a line, and he forced his horse forward a step. A
circular item is thrown from the trees, landing against the bark of another
right beside Taehyung, an arrow immediately after it. The arrow glided faster
than the object, going through it. When the item bounced from the tree, its
inner ring caught on the arrow and circled it a few times before settling,
glinting brightly in the sun. Taehyung shaded his eyes, squinting at it in
confusion, and Jungkook froze when he saw it. When Taehyung finally registered
it, he turned his eyes to Jungkook pointedly.
Jungkook numbly slid from his horse, and approached the arrow cautiously.
Another one could be launched right through his skull at any moment. Any of
theirs. But nothing happened as Jungkook slide the object off the arrow, and
flipped it rightside in his hands, which shook. Simple silver, twisted like
branches, cold to the touch- cold like his castle. My crown. Jungkook nearly
dropped it, but forced himself to grip it tight, creating creases in his
fingers where the ridges dig in.
“Jungkook,” Jimin spoke softly. “We can’t go. Not right now.”
Jungkook turned sharply and threw his crown back to the forest where it came
from with an animalistic snarl. Jimin flinched back while Taehyung remained
calm. All their horses were restless, confused by the series of odd events, not
understanding why Jungkook was furious. Jungkook didn’t get mad, hardly ever,
and not like the boiling rage he was feeling in the moment.
When the crown simply came rolling back out again, lazily, almost mockingly,
Jungkook was vibrating. “Who are you?!” He explodes, the words ripped from his
throat, louder than he’s spoken… well, ever. Silence. He was about to stomp his
way into the brush when another arrow flew past Jungkook’s head, landing next
to the other one. It had a paper curled around it, tied with a pale greenish
string. Taehyung quickly got off his horse to grab it before Jungkook could
even move from his tensed position. The two other men watched Taehyung with
sharp eyes. Taehyung pulled at the string, letting it fall, and unfurled the
note. The paper was thin and pale, nearly translucent, but all Jungkook could
see was backwards chicken scratch through the scrap. Taehyung held the note,
staring at it far longer than it took to read.
“Tae, what is it?” Jimin urged. His hand had crept over his shoulder to hold at
the place where the arrow had pierced through his leather armor. His face was
twisted in pain. Jungkook wished they’d just left when he’d asked-
“They have Jisoo.”
Jungkook’s head snapped back to Taehyung so fast, he was surprised he didn’t
get whiplash. “Who.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand for an answer.
“It’s signed Seaside.”
Jungkook strode up to Taehyung, who offered the note without complaint.
Jungkook had to force himself not to just snatch it. The feeling of rage was
awful to him. It reminded him of his father’s seemingly constant state. He
perused it, going over every sharp letter. It was surprisingly clean writing,
despite its initial appearance through the paper.
King Jeon.
Jungkook couldn’t help but cringe at the addressal.
If you’re reading this, that means you have tried to return home. That also
means my men have intercepted you. If you’re wise, you’ll go no further from
where you stand right now, and no one has to get hurt. Not the companions you
may bring with you, and not Jisoo, who is in our possession.
We have your palace. Your people are currently unaware of the change in reign,
which speaks volumes to how your father ran the forest before you. We have
found your plans, and we are willing to speak to you, make a deal perhaps.
What has happened to you, there is no evil intent. We have killed no one.
Situations have changed drastically.
I, the leader, wish to meet with you, Jeon Jungkook. Without King Kim or his
palace pets. I can’t promise you your kingdom, but I can promise the lives of
you and Jisoo. We will meet during the dark moon, when it is highest in the
sky, on the East border of my domain.
I repeat to you, if it was not clear before: come alone.
Seaside
The wording was careful, Jungkook could tell. He’d spent enough time reading
rather than speaking to determine that with ease. His eyes traveled over the
paper, to where Taehyung was watching him with narrowed eyes but a blank
expression. Something was passed between them, something Jungkook didn’t
entirely understand, but he pocketed the note. After gathering his crown and
placing it on his head, they both got back on their horses. In a quiet voice,
Jungkook said, “I suppose we have no choice. We will return. Do not pull the
arrow out until we get back, just in case.”
They turned around, and nothing else came from the woods: no arrow, object, or
noise. The ride back was tensely silent. Jungkook was still simmering with red
hot anger over the fact that he was cut off from his kingdom, but the leader of
Seaside- the man he knew went by Suga- had presented an opportunity. He wasn’t
sure what his next move was- truly show up to meet Suga alone, or show up under
that impression only to ambush him. The latter would require Seokjin’s help,
which he was hesitant to ask for after he’d already given Jungkook so much. The
realization came to him. What he had to do. What Taehyung’s look had meant. I
can’t tell Seokjin about the note. Thinking about it, that meant he couldn’t
tell Jimin either. He was thankful Jimin hadn’t even asked. He didn’t want to
build lies, or at least, not more than he had to.
His father once told him that being royalty was all a lie. “You lie to your
people, when you smile and tell them you love them. You lie to the court, when
you make grand plans that will always fall through. You lie to your fellow
rulers, offering a hand in peace.” Why had he always been so cold?
Jungkook shook his head minutely. All the anger from his nineteen years of
existence, living in wretched fear and inferiority because of his father, was
bubbling to the surface because of this one occasion where he allowed a little
to spill over.
When their party of heavy-shouldered men returned to the gates of the mountain
palace, the guards immediately let them in and rushed Jimin off his horse,
where he was gently taken away. It didn’t take long for Seokjin to come
sweeping from the large, dark wooden doors of the palace, his same cloak
getting dusted with snow as he jogs down the steps towards Jungkook and
Taehyung. His head followed Jimin, however, and as he approached, he coughed
before panting, “What happened?”
“Seokjin, let’s get inside,” Taehyung suggested quietly, swinging down from his
horse, allowing a servant to take it. Jungkook did the same, keeping his
distance while Taehyung moved to Seokjin to take his arm. “The air is
especially thin today.”
Seokjin’s chest spasmed with a withheld cough, but he shook his head. “Tell me,
Taehyung.”
“The Seaside Domain intercepted us,” Jungkook spoke, still fueled enough to
dare use his speech. It’s odd, how he was silenced from the anger of another,
but his own encouraged him to break his quiet. He hated that. He swallowed, but
continued nonetheless. “They have my closest servant. I have a bad feeling they
are hurting him for information on my intentions.”
Seokjin’s whole body stilled for a moment. He went to speak, but seemed to stop
himself from saying one thing, instead asking, “What action will you take?”
Jungkook looked down, at his boots in the snow. They glistened with wetness.
Already, the white grounds were melting, and Jungkook was stood before a murky
puddle in which he could see a shadow of his head, the jagged edges of his
crown atop it. He reached up to touch it with the tips of his fingers. I will
meet with Suga. “I… I am not sure, yet.” I’m sorry, Seokjin.
Seokjin nodded. “I don’t expect you to make an immediate decision that might be
rash. Think on it, and I’ll support you when you decide.” He finally let
himself cough again, and waved a hand back towards his castle. “Let’s-” he
tried to wheeze, but let it die in his throat as Taehyung immediately began
walking with him, Jungkook following a pace behind.
“Can we make sure Jiminie is okay?” Taehyung prompted, and Seokjin nodded
again. In the castle, the air was warmer and thicker with proper humidity,
which Jungkook speculated came from special vents or a machine of some sort.
They veered to the left, and next to a staircase leading up, there was one
winding downwards, with a turn that led deeper. They took it all the way to the
bottom, a basement of some sort that opened into a large, well-equipped medical
bay. Jimin was sat on a pristine white bed, shirt cut off of him, exposing the
smooth expanse of bare chest Jungkook had seen before. His muscles were tense,
rippling with the effort of not jerking in pain. He was hunched over so his
back was smoothed out, and a team of three people were surrounding him. They
arrived just as the arrow is pulled out, and Jimin hissed, eyes squeezing shut.
Taehyung drifted away from Seokjin, drawn to his hurting friend like a magnet.
When Jimin heard his light footsteps approaching on the stone, he squinted his
eyes open. Taehyung offered a hand to grasp, and Jimin asked. Jungkook winced,
seeing just how tight Jimin held when one medic began to run a disinfecting
fluid over the open wound. It wasn’t horribly deep, but the entire serrated tip
had gotten lodged, meaning for gnarly ripped flesh. Jungkook knew how much it
hurt. When he was very young, training with bows for the first time with some
soldiers in training, one of the kid’s father had ordered him to shoot at
Jungkook in secret. When King Jeon had found out the kid had landed an arrow in
his heir’s ribs, however, he had killed the father ruthlessly in front of the
child, who had cried and begged and said I never wanted to hurt Prince Jeon, I
promise, it was an accident, dad didn’t do anything. Thinking back on it,
Jungkook wondered if it truly was just an accident. Had his father used that
poor kid’s father as an example? A show put on for the court, for any people in
the forest who may have wanted to hurt a royal Jeon? Just to keep the fear
alive, even if the man had been innocent. “Fear means respect, Prince.” No.
Fairness means respect. How had his father blinded Jungkook so much?
He felt sick, then, watching the way Taehyung- and Seokjin, too, who had
migrated to Jimin’s bedside to grip his thigh comfortingly- cared for their
friend. Even as Jungkook was screaming, having pulled out the arrow himself and
thus was bleeding heavily, his father never went to his side to hold his hand,
or grip his thigh, or look at him. He dealt with the “problem” that caused
Jungkook to get shot, and figured it the best way to appease the suffering of
his child. But all Jungkook had wanted was encouragement, words from his father
that would let him know he’d be okay. A cool human hand that would brush back
the hair that clung to the sweat on his forehead, or thumbs that would wipe at
his tears. It was one of those moments, laying on a cold table with doctors
doing something horrible and painful to his body, where he craved the queen.
The ghost of her that he hardly remembered, by any means.
They gave Jimin a shot in his back, and Jimin relaxed at the feeling of it.
“Finally,” he breathed softly, still gritting his teeth in pain, but assuming
the injection would numb him eventually, he seemed relieved. He lifted his
head, his black hair falling in his eyes, and latched onto Jungkook still
across the room. Jungkook flinched, but approached, feet falling nearly
silently in his cautious demeanor.
Jungkook sat warily on the bed opposite Jimin, facing the man, and whispered,
“I am sorry.”
Jimin grinned a little. “Your voice is fading again.” Jungkook shifted
uncomfortably, but Jimin moved on quickly. “I’m sorry for holding you back,”
Jimin admitted instead, “but I don’t regret it. Any further, and you could have
been hurt.”
“Like you…” Jungkook mumbled miserably.
“That wasn’t your fault,” Jimin insisted, and side-eyed Seokjin, who wasn’t in
the loop yet. “That was their first shot to let us know they were there,” he
explained, and Seokjin hummed in acknowledgement. A flicker of sudden curiosity
passed through Jimin’s eyes, and Jungkook feared for a second that he would
mention the note, but he said nothing more. He seemed to at last be numbed,
shoulders falling more lax, stomach creasing instead of being rigid. Jungkook
was glad. Watching Jimin hurt, knowing Jungkook was partially responsible no
matter what the other could say, was heartbreaking to Jungkook. He had been
walking on eggshells around the forest king ever since his first mistake, which
spoke a lot to his personality. Jimin didn’t deserve pain, and he didn’t
deserve to have to regard Jungkook differently for something so trivial that
happened a week before.
Jungkook didn’t say any of that, though. I talk too much lately. This, he knew.
Taehyung and Jimin in particular seemed to know just how to take down his
walls, increase his comfort. And Jungkook… Jungkook was realizing his mouth
didn’t have to cause damage. To think before he spoke was a simple thing, even
if it caused a pause. If he was cautious, perhaps-
But he still held qualms about speaking freely. He knew, by then, that
everything his father had made him think was wrong and horrifically skewed.
Being conditioned that speaking would ultimately lead to punishment clung to
him, however, as it often did. It was psychological, that much was certain.
Slowly, he decided. Slowly, I will train myself to speak and not be afraid. To
speak and not say words that will have negative consequence. There was always a
risk, but he could come to terms with that. Baby steps. Today… I’ve done quite
enough for today.
Jungkook stood again, and the other three watched. He nodded, a gesture to
excuse himself, and Seokjin said, “Ah, you should go get something to eat or
drink, Jungkook. Taehyung-”
“I’m staying here, for now,” Taehyung cut in carefully. He was holding Jimin’s
hand between both of his, then, stroking the skin of the other’s knuckles
softly. It was intimate, and loving. Jungkook gave them nothing more before
turning and going to ascend the stairs, feeling the weight of eyes on his back.
He traveled up, and up, and up until he reached the room he was given. His few
packed items were still strapped to the horse, most likely to be returned to
him later, but he still had his bow and arrows slung across his body. All he
wanted to do was fall back into bed. It wasn’t like he’d slept much, given how
late… early he’d been up drinking. Going to his window, he forced it open.
Obviously, it was not lifted often, both because it was mostly cold in the
mountains and because it took strength to get it to slide up the track, a clear
sign of disuse. When he leaned out, taking a breath of air, his eyes scanned
the trees far, far below, searching for- yes, a flash of blue. We’re being
watched. Always. Jungkook stored the location of the blue-clothed person, and
retracted back into the room to find a piece of paper.
When he returned to the window, bow in hand, arrow notched, a letter rolled and
tied near the feathers, the faint glimpse of blue through the pine trees was
still visible. Jungkook aimed his arrow, narrowing his eyes, honing in on his
target. The Seaside person must have been watching him, because the blue moved.
Jungkook’s target remained the same, and he drew back tightly, the muscles in
his arm straining with the effort to get enough force to let the arrow fly-
It hit the bark of the tree, next to where the blue had been. Even if the
person had remained still, Jungkook would not have hit them. Satisfied, he
shirked off his weaponry and laid the items aside on a table.
Chief Suga,
I will meet with you, on the conditions that you are also alone and carry only
a single weapon, as will I.
Don’t expect me to be passive to your demands over my kingdom and my people. I
am not my father, but I was raised by him, and Jeons are not to be stepped on.
Regards,
King Jungkook
~~~
Yoongi knelt beside where Jisoo was slumped in his chairs. “Do you think you
could walk?”
“No.”
“Crawl?”
“No.”
“Can you move at all?”
“No.”
Yoongi tightened his jaw, flexing it before letting it relax with a sigh. “Is
Wonwoo killing you?”
A bout of silence. Yoongi’s heart thudded in his chest, outraged and- dare he
admit it, scared. “Yes,” Jisoo finally answered. “Do you plan to help?”
Yoongi looked away, unable to keep seeing the way Jisoo’s dirty hair leaked
blood- drip, drip, drip- to the dark pool on the floor. “No.”
Jisoo made a wheezing noise, and Yoongi couldn’t tell if it was an attempt at a
laugh or a sigh. “You’re no better.”
“Most of my partners in this scheme has fled. One has gone rogue.”
“And you?”
“Damage control. You die, since you’ve heard too much already. I make a deal
with your king.”
With the little strength left in Jisoo’s body, he tensed. “You’ve taken
everything from him. And now you want to make a deal?”
“You know too much, perhaps, but you still know not enough,” Yoongi warned.
“Plans fell apart. This was never meant to be like this. King Jungkook was an
unexpected inconvenience, and now he is a victim. There are people on his side…
And there are people who want to capture and keep him forever. I was never in
the business between kingdoms, so I don’t know who to believe, but for now, my
job is to make the kid trust me.”
“After you seized his kingdom?”
“It was my plan originally. The night everything changed, my people started
following the… the tyrant, instead. I have few men left that I trust.”
“Boo hoo,” Jisoo grumped, scoffing, “My king has none. And you want to be
someone that he can? Good luck. He’s fucked up. Traumatized. Mute, for the
majority. He will never trust you.”
The metal locks on the door unclicked, and Wonwoo emerged from the darkness of
the entryway. He tilted his head at the sight of Yoongi, crouched next to their
prisoner. “Planning his escape?”
Yoongi hid the roll of his eyes, and stood, grabbing Jisoo’s hair and yanking
the man’s head back. Their eyes met as Yoongi said, “He wishes.”
“I have orders to kill him tonight.”
Jisoo’s gaze grew heavier, sadder. Yoongi’s own remained hardened. “Good. He’s
useless. End his suffering, you animal.”
~~~
“Hyuna,” Taehyung whispered. His hands moved slowly along the iron of the
fence, feeling his way through the dark. He shivered as a breeze ripped through
the layers of his clothing. “Hyuna?”
A branch rustled, and Taehyung jumped, neck craning up. Hyuna was perched on a
tree, a finger to her lips. “Warriors nearby,” she hissed, and extended down a
hand. Taehyung latched on, using her strong hold as leverage to climb up until
he’s crouched next to her on the low limb. She peered at him, eyes bright in
the moonlight, and smiled, but it didn’t linger. “I missed you, but- Taehyung,
if
King Jungkook meets with Chief Yoongi-”
“I know,” Taehyung murmured, pained. “Why… Why did you shoot Jiminie?”
Hyuna’s mouth closed, and her eyebrows drew together. “You’re not attached, are
you?”
“No, but- you know I don’t like innocents getting hurt,” he rushed out, and
Hyuna softened.
“Oh, Tae…” She whispered.
Taehyung shook his head. “Forget it. What are our next orders?”
Hyuna pursed her lips. Another foul brush of wind had Taehyung chilled to the
bone, snow from the branches dusting their faces in harsh little pinpricks of
cold. She turned to him with a neutral expression that scared the shit out of
him. “That depends whose side your on, Tae.”
***** A Gentle Beating Heart is Swept Away by Sin *****
Chapter Notes
     This is late, I'll explain why at the end.
     Title from Staying by Koda. A good, soft, sleepy tuned song. Give it
     a listen.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Jungkook took to watching the moon each night. He and Seokjin would spend time
in one of the towers, in a room where Jungkook could sit at a bay window and
tilt his head back at the stars, and Seokjin could read or tinker with an odd
item he’d been working on. Jungkook wasn’t sure what exactly Seokjin did, but
he had labs where he liked to work alone some days.
The moon was but a sliver on the night Taehyung and Jimin joined them in the
room. The two had been acting extremely odd, closer yet hesitant around each
other. Taehyung touched Jimin as if he would shatter, and Jimin was so baffled
by the other’s mood that he would grow irritable. Taehyung was tucked close to
Jimin, then, though, for the first time in days it seemed. Jimin was perturbed,
but allowed it, sketching lightly while Taehyung stared with glazed eyes
between Jungkook and Seokjin. Jungkook ignored it. Seokjin was restless because
of it. They’d all noticed the strange change in atmosphere. It was less
suffocating, more vividly real, and Jungkook was glad. It helped him keep his
head. He’d been spending most of his time stuck in his own mind anyways.
Soonyoung came along at some point, too, offering to draw baths for any of
them. He was very different when he was around the king- even when he was
around Taehyung and Jimin. In fact, there was an odd air of inferiority around
him when he was with the three. In the presence of a king, Jungkook may have
been able to understand, but Soonyoung- all the servants treat Taehyung and
Jimin as if they were on the same level. It made Jungkook think of Chief Suga’s
note. King Kim or his palace pets. It was fairly clear he was referring to the
two boys in question. Jungkook didn’t particularly like how derogatory it
sounded, but if he was honest, Taehyung and Jimin didn’t serve any other
obvious purpose but to sit and look pretty. A power play. Whenever Seokjin had
to sit in his throne and answer to hearings or when he attended meetings, at
least one of them- usually Jimin- sat at his feet on a cushion, head in his
lap, eyes distant, like they were simple-minded animals on display for Seokjin
to pet and coddle while he attended to business. It was weird, but then,
Jungkook only knew of his own customs. He knew the Jeon way of public bathing
and discarding queens was weird, and he knew the latter was grossly wrong, but
no one said a word. All he could presume was that it was normal, a tradition.
He comforted himself by thinking of Namjoon and Hoseok, who probably also had
customs he would think odd.
It had been a good time since he’d thought of the other kings. Jungkook hadn’t
witness any messengers updating their status, but Seokjin had assured Jungkook
a few days prior that all was well for them. It struck Jungkook as almost
hurtful. All is well? They don’t offer condolences, or help, even when they
said they would? He felt childish thinking such thoughts and feeling so
betrayed. Even then, his face felt hot with it. He felt so alone, even with
Seokjin’s care and Taehyung and Jimin’s amicable company. Perhaps it was
because he felt he was about to betray them. Seeing the thin crescent of the
waning moon, it would be the next night, when he’d leave in the cover of
darkness to ride to the shores.
Jungkook ended up taking the other of the bath, and Taehyung stood, seeming to
blink back into his body. “Can I join you?’
Jungkook looked back at him, half in surprise, half with nervousness. He wanted
to talk, that much was obvious, but Jimin and Seokjin didn’t bat an eye at it.
Jungkook nodded, and Soonyoung walked ahead of them, leading them up a few
floors to the top, where the bedrooms were.
Jungkook stripped himself of his shirt on the way to Taehyung’s bathroom, and
the three men sat on the dry edge of the large bath as Soonyoung fiddled with
the taps, making sure the temperature was perfect. Jungkook hated that
Soonyoung was acting so small. Taehyung didn’t seem to notice at all, bending
across to his cabinets, extracting his usual rose salts. Soonyoung kept his
head low, only glancing briefly at the man’s actions, but when the bath was
sufficiently filled and he stood to leave, he went to a different cabinet
first. Jungkook tilted his head as Soonyoung rummaged around a bit, and
Taehyung lifted his head.
“Oh,” Taehyung muttered, then, with more panic, stood. “Oh, Soonyoung, you
don’t-”
Soonyoung turned back around, eyes on the ground, and placed a small jar and a
small box on the edge of the bath before exiting the room, shutting the door
soundly behind himself. Jungkook leaned to inspect the items, but Taehyung
brushed past him, nearly making him topple half-dressed into the bath, and
shoved the items back into the taller cabinet. The box rattled with what
sounded like cards, or something flat or packeted.
“S-Sorry,” Taehyung rushed out, and Jungkook thought it was the first time he’d
seen Taehyung so flustered, “Communal bathing isn’t really common, and
Soonyoung- he assumed- Jimin and-and S…” When he spun back around, meeting
Jungkook’s befuddled face, he let out a sharp breath and began laughing.
Jungkook just tilted his head further, mouth puckering, and Taehyung shook his
head, shoulders relaxing. “I- sometimes I forget, Jungkook.”
“Why do strange things always happen when I bathe with you?” Jungkook groused,
and began undoing his pants. “Nothing so grossly sexual happens during forest
baths.”
Taehyung laughed again at the tone in Jungkook’s soft little voice, and the air
in the entire palace seemed to ease some. “So you did realize what they were. I
underestimate you, Jungkook.”
Jungkook shrugged, and slipped into the water. He swirled his hands around in
the pink bath, tinted as such from the salts, and breathed in the steaming
scent of flowers. “So,” Jungkook started smally as Taehyung joined him, “The
note?”
Taehyung’s broad shoulders dipped, and his chest grew flushed in the hot water.
“Yes,” Taehyung relented, “The note. I-” He stopped himself, seeming to
struggle. Jungkook waited patiently. He knew his own choice, whether Taehyung
was there to try and prevent him from it or help him in it. “I think you should
go.” This surprised Jungkook, but not too much. Taehyung hadn’t said a word
about it all week, so it made sense for the other man to admit he encouraged
it. “I can’t help much, but I can provide your cover.”
Jungkook nodded, and slowly allowed a smile. “Thank you, Taehyung,” he
whispered.
“I still really like that,” Taehyung said offhandedly. “When you say my name.
It feels special.”
 
“It is,” Jungkook promised, and Taehyung beamed at him across the tub. “I trust
you.”
Taehyung ducked his head. “That’s… good. I’ll help you prepare tonight. Maybe
we can even spar a bit. Chief Suga’s used to settling arguments with duels,
I’ve heard.”
“I’d like that-”
A knock fell on the door, and they both looked to the noise, going into a tense
silence. Jungkook felt the water stir as Taehyung shifted, sitting up a bit and
calling, “Jimin?”
The door opened, and Seokjin stepped in. Jungkook’s head fell to the side,
looking up at the tall man, heart pounding. He hoped his fear was hidden by his
curiosity at the king’s arrival. “Am I intruding?” Seokjin asked, voice low,
and it made Jungkook shiver a little.
Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Soonyoung would think so. Did he go tattling?”
Seokjin raised an eyebrow, and Taehyung just said, “Never mind.”
“May I join? Jimin went to bed, and I was missing the company.” Taehyung looked
to Jungkook, who nodded, and shifted closer to Taehyung to make room. Once
Seokjin was seated, he groaned and tilted his head back, throat flexing. “The
ways of your kingdom have grown on me, Jungkook.”
Jungkook watched him as he spoke, adam's apple bobbing, and let out a small
audible laugh. Seokjin leveled his head at the sound, and Jungkook felt…
strange. The way Seokjin was looking at him was darker, but still warm. It was
his eyes, the rich bark color, how much power his looks conveyed. Taehyung
shifted again, even closer to Jungkook, and Seokjin noticed, gaze flickering to
Jungkook’s right. Then, inexplicably, Seokjin smirked, and Jungkook’s breath
caught.
“So,” the mountain king began, fingers playing with a rose petal, “Is there a
reason for this romantic bath?”
Jungkook felt his face flame, but Taehyung dispelled whatever thoughts Seokjin
had by saying, “Jungkook likes these bath salts. I have to please our guest,
don’t I?”
“Of course.” Seokjin aimed a smile at Jungkook, who still felt hot, but perhaps
he’d mistake it for the bath’s effects. His attentions moved again. “Soonyoung
did go tattling, by the way. As he’s supposed to when you get up to something
strange, Taehyung.”
“Did he say we were fu-”
“Taehyung,” Seokjin cut him off in warning, and Jungkook couldn’t help
snickering. It seemed to please Seokjin. “Yes, he did. So of course I had to…
investigate.”
Taehyung arched an eyebrow, and Jungkook turned his face into his own shoulder.
“Just one bath…” He mumbled, and Seokjin hummed in question. Jungkook lifted
his head a little and spoke again, just as quietly, “Just one nonsexual bath.”
Seokjin laughed pleasantly, and shrugged helplessly. “Please forgive us, forest
king, when the mountain people bathe together, it is usually far from casual.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, and settled upright again. Taehyung took over
conversation from there. “Jungkook and I might spar later. I think he misses
it.”
“I never would have assumed you to have violent nature,” Seokjin commented
facetiously, and Jungkook sent a small wave of water towards him. “Perhaps I
can spar with you, as well. Taehyung is more than capable, of course, but I
think it would be fun.”
Jungkook tried not to look at Taehyung, and instead nodded. He could still see
Taehyung out of the corner of his eye, fidgeting, but it was quickly covered by
a pout. “Aw, taking my Jungkook time.”
Seokjin gestured around the steamy room, pointing out, “I feel you spend plenty
of time with him already.”
“No! He kicked me out of bath time for a while,” Taehyung complained, but both
kings knew it was all in good humor, so Seokjin didn’t berate him for it.
“Well, I’ve been busy with kingdom work. What have you been doing? Lounging
around while Jimin does your job for you.”
“Not that our job is very different from lounging around, anyways. Most of the
time, at least,” Taehyung jabbed.
“Don’t tell me I don’t make you work.”
“What,” Jungkook spoke up meekly, and both eyes landed on him. He paused, and
restarted cautiously. “What do they do, exactly?” Taehyung colored, and turned
wide eyes to Seokjin, a silent question in them that Jungkook could tell was
are you going to tell him? He was… embarrassed. A rare sight. Jungkook hurried
to stutter out, “I-I’m sorry. I did not mean to- I’m sorry.”
Seokjin shook his head. “Don’t mind Taehyung, Jungkook. He doesn’t like the
showy part of his job much, which is why you often see Jimin accompanying me
instead, but I assure you he enjoys the more private aspects of it.”
Jungkook’s eyes were flitting between Taehyung and Seokjin, a hunch in mind.
His heart was fluttering, and it felt stupid and awful. Childish. “So…”
“I’m King Seokjin’s… Um…” Taehyung seemed to struggle for the word, tilting his
head up, face still blushed the same pink as the tinted bath water.
“Taehyung and Jimin are my concubine.”
Jungkook didn’t know how to react. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the word or the
concept. In fact, he’d had a feeling the two men were something of the sort.
Hearing the actual term, though, it felt wrong. His father had concubine. Many
of them, but none of them were permanent. A new one every few months. They
didn’t hang around, and didn’t sit at his feet like a prized possession. They
were secret. Considered dirty. If anyone knew, even the court, the Jeons would
be slandered. The people would be horrified.
But the mountain people, they all knew Taehyung and Jimin. They saw them sit
with Seokjin during hearings, and ride with him during outings. They liked
Taehyung and Jimin, and treated them very highly. Seeing the way they all
interacted, it was less like they were concubines, more just… casual lovers,
perhaps? Jungkook was unsure, as he wasn’t used to the idea. He was glad,
though, that it was different here. That also meant homosexuality was accepted
across the kingdom, even by the king himself, which was of course preposterous
in the forest.
Seokjin must have seen Jungkook’s thoughts played out like a movie, because he
added softly, “They’re very well treated, Jungkook, you know this. I don’t know
how the forest regards concubine, but it is normal in my kingdom. Due to
tradition, there can be no more than one king or one queen, so I can’t marry
either of them. Our relationship isn’t quite like that anyways. If the king
does have unconventional lovers, they’re considered concubine, and a surrogate
may in the future provide an heir if the king does not wish to settle down with
a female. Otherwise, marriage between any gender is legal.” Seokjin tipped his
head to the side. “Doesn’t the forest use surrogates as well?”
Jungkook shook his head, lowering his eyes to the murky water. “Not… not
exactly.”
“There has never been an official queen. That’s all I know. Are the forest
kings celibate?”
Jungkook laughed coldly at the prospect, once again thinking of the concubine.
“No. In the forest, the king selects a queen based on appearance, impregnates
her, she raises the child until it is old enough to walk, talk, and use the
bathroom itself, and then she is… killed, I presume.” Jungkook lowered his head
further. “My father never said that, but- I see no other way my mother could
have disappeared so fast, without a trace.” Seokjin and Taehyung fell silent,
and Jungkook felt that anger again- at his kingdom, this time. His father, and
his ancestors. The hall of portraits he had always felt so inferior walking
down. “I do not support it. I-”
“We understand that, Jungkook,” Taehyung murmured, sympathy heavy in his tone,
and he moved ever closer to Jungkook to hook their arms. Their thighs pressed
together comfortingly, and Jungkook released a frustrated breath.
“Come, Jungkook,” Seokjin offered gently, beginning to rise. “Let’s go fight a
little, to let off steam. You are not your father, I’ve said it before.” He
offered his hand, and Jungkook slowly looked up. He accepted it, and Seokjin
pulled him into an embrace that had Jungkook’s heart pattering in his chest.
Too much bare, warm skin all along his own. But it was brief, and sweet, and
Jungkook thought, yes. I needed this, I think.
Guilt began to feel heavy within him.
~~~
Jungkook’s breath came harsh and short, Seokjin’s even moreso. The older king
was on top, bearing heavily onto Jungkook, a fierce determination set in the
slope of his brows and upward curl of his lips. Jungkook tried to buck up, but
he was pinned at the hips and his shoulders were being pushed back.
Focus, he told himself, even with his head spinning. You don’t have to be
stronger to win.
Jungkook dropped his arms, and Seokjin’s expression turned to one of surprise
as he fell further on top of the younger. Seokjin carefully moved his sword to
the side. “Are you o-”
Jungkook pushed, and Seokjin grunted as he was thrown off and to the side.
Jungkook rolled, hooking his leg over Seokjin, and pressed the flat of his
sword against the man’s neck with a soft smile that said got you.
Seokjin laughed, and Jungkook could feel the quake of his chest against his
own. “I thought you were hurt, that’s hardly fair.”
“All is fair,” Jungkook murmured in response.
“In love and war?”
Jungkook’s eyes flickered along Seokjin’s face. Flushed cheeks, damp hairline,
the way he wet his lips, how his eyelashes fluttered almost sleepily.
“Something like that.” Jungkook’s heart was doing the funny thing where it sped
up and made him feel weird. Not entirely bad weird. Seokjin’s head fell back
onto the mat that they’d laid out in his training room, and he huffed out a
shaky breath. Jungkook leaned closer, curious. “Are you okay?”
“My chest hurts a little, but otherwise, I’m perfectly fine,” Seokjin assured
him. Jungkook scrambled up, and offered a hand, pulling Seokjin to his feet.
“Remember that time in your library? Where I went and knocked you right over?”
Jungkook snorted, and nodded. He did indeed, though it was bleary at best. “It
feels better, now, knowing you can defend yourself well. Back then, you seemed
so fragile in your hurt state.”
“I am not weak,” Jungkook said, more in agreement than defense.
“You are not,” Seokjin affirmed, still holding onto Jungkook’s hand, which he
squeezed before releasing. “Now,” he continued, and began circling Jungkook,
raising his sword again. “Round two?”
Their swords clashed, and Jungkook was taken back, to when he’d trained with
Jisoo. They have him, Jungkook reminded himself. He’d been feeling so guilty,
keeping his plans from Seokjin, but what choice did he have? After the last
outing he’d had, Seokjin would never let him go alone, and that would provoke
the Chief. It would put Jisoo into danger.
His breath got knocked from him as Seokjin hit his padded side with the flat of
his sword, and he stumbled back. Before Seokjin could advance again, he darted
forward, taking the offensive. Seokjin, caught off guard, could only manage to
turn a little to evade the brunt of Jungkook’s attack.
Jungkook found himself at a wall. He spun, but Seokjin was already on him,
crowding him against the painted brick. Jungkook’s eyes scanned for space
before diving through the area between the wall and Seokjin’s backset leg.
“You’re a quick little one,” Seokjin noted, calmly following Jungkook’s
movement as the younger king rolled back onto his feet. He caught Seokjin’s
gaze roaming his body, from his strong legs to his thin waist and structured
chest, which rose and fell steadily then.
Then he charged.
They fought for a long time, laughing at their mistakes, making joking jabs at
each other with bated breaths. Once again, Jungkook found himself at Seokjin’s
mercy, this time on his knees, Seokjin behind him, holding his head still with
a dagger at Jungkook’s throat. He’d pulled it out when Jungkook had disarmed
him, and what had began as a swordfight turned into hand-to-hand as Jungkook
discarded his own sword to keep it fair.
“You won’t fool me this time, Jungkook,” Seokjin panted. His breathing was
uneven, which concerned Jungkook, but Seokjin had yet to complain about it.
Seokjin knelt, a hand going around Jungkook’s middle to press his back to the
mountain king’s chest. Seokjin’s breath was hot against Jungkook’s ear as he
whispered, “Want to know a trick?” Jungkook nodded shortly so as not to disturb
Seokjin’s firm yet gentle grip in his hair. “Plant your strongest foot.”
Jungkook brought his right knee up so his boot was secure on the mat. “To
loosen my grip, you’d bring your head back and hit me,” he instructed, guiding
Jungkook by his hair to lightly mimic the movement before slipping his fingers
free. “Grab that arm now.” Jungkook did, grabbing his forearm and bicep. “And-”
Jungkook did what felt natural, hauling Seokjin over so he slammed onto his
back in front of Jungkook. Jungkook pinned both his arms then, and braced a
knee over both Seokjin’s thighs. “Good,” Seokjin praised breathlessly. Then,
with an odd expression that Jungkook couldn’t decipher, he said, “It’s weird,
being held down like this and feeling arousal instead of fear.”
Jungkook tried to jerk away out of mere shock, but Seokjin’s hand broke free
and grabbed Jungkook’s shirt collar where it stuck from his leather armor. In a
dizzying turn of Jungkook’s world, in which his mind was too muddled to
understand what was happening, he was suddenly the one below Seokjin’s, hands
pinned above his head. His small wrists were trapped under one of Seokjin’s
warm hands, the other still fisted in Jungkook’s shirt. “But I’m more used to
this position.”
Jungkook couldn’t breathe. Seokjin was still struggling for his own breath, but
that was just asthma. Jungkook couldn’t breathe because he felt- too much, a
mix of every emotion, it was suffocating. The innocence of his interactions
with Taehyung and Jimin were practically nothing to this swirling heat of lust
he saw from Seokin, and felt within himself. It’s wrong, some pesky voice was
telling him- but he knew it wasn’t. But with Seokjin? Doesn’t that make it
wrong?
Seokjin was watching him intensely. “I’m sorry, Jungkook,” he muttered, but not
an ounce of it was truly apologetic. “But something had to give.” Jungkook
agreed, but it felt like too much, too soon. What was a vague attraction that
Jungkook had pushed to the back of his mind was now brought forth with
lightning quickness, and he realized how it had grown, unnoticed, into
something stronger. Almost a physical pull. He wasn’t sure if he was terrified
or exhilarated. Seokjin dipped lower, and Jungkook practically cowered beneath
him, making him stop. “Is this okay?” Jungkook didn’t know. Seokjin slowly
lowered his head, dragging his nose up the line of Jungkook’s throat, forcing
Jungkook to tilt his head back with a small sound erupting from his mouth. “I
won’t, without an answer,” Seokjin told him, and Jungkook felt the movement of
the words against his jaw. “But, oh, I want to do so much to you, Jungkook.”
“Seokjin,” Jungkook gasped, and Seokjin practically growled.
“Keep saying my name like that, and I-” Seokjin inhaled sharply to stop
himself, and rested his forehead on Jungkook’s sternum.
There was a beat of silence before Jungkook whispered, “You’ll what?”
Seokjin chuckled softly. “You tempt me.”
“Maybe…” Jungkook paused, eyes darting along the ceiling, so high the lights
hardly illuminated the rustic beams. “Maybe I do it on purpose.”
“I can hear your heartbeat. Are you scared of this?”
“Yes.”
“Would you believe me if I said you don’t have to be?”
“I… do not know.”
“Then I won’t do anything.”
Seokjin began lifting himself off Jungkook, releasing his wrists, but Jungkook
hooked an arm over Seokjin’s neck and pulled him back down, catching the older
man at the hip with his other hand. Seokjin caught himself, caged over
Jungkook’s body, eyes searching. Pretty, Jungkook thought. “Let this happen,”
Jungkook said, gaze flitting away, too frightened to keep eye contact. He
caught himself looking at Seokjin’s lips, but that, too, was dangerous.
“Slowly.”
Seokjin tried to hide a smile. “Does that mean I can’t kiss you right now?”
Jungkook bit his lip, stomach fluttering uncomfortably. Why now? I’ve been
kissed before. But this was Seokjin. Someone untouchable to Jungkook- someone
he’d been warned against, and wary of, and keeping himself from. Yet, there he
was, touching him, tossing away the warnings, leaving behind the wariness,
pulling himself closer to Seokjin.
Jungkook closed his eyes. In a small voice, he said, “Do what you wish…
Seokjin.”
He felt Seokjin’s breath fan his face, and all was still for a moment. Jungkook
didn’t know whether or not he was expecting it- but Seokjin gave a chaste kiss
to the corner of Jungkook’s mouth before extracting himself from the younger
king. “That’s all I’ll allow myself. Slowly, you said.”
Jungkook nodded. He still couldn’t find it within himself to move. The place
where Seokjin’s plush pink mouth had touched his, so softly, barely there- it
felt odd. Like his nerve-endings all longed for that touch to have remained
just a little bit longer.
Jungkook smirked.
“What’s that for?” Seokjin asked, skepticism strong in his tone.
“After conquering his concubine, I have also won the mountain king.”
Seokjin sighed. “Those two. I should have known.”
~~~
Seokjin had escorted Jungkook to his room, but had gone no further than
caressing his cheek and whispering, “Goodnight, Jungkook,” leaving with only
the blazing trails of his fingertips left. Jungkook slept fitfully after his
exercise, and when he woke, he felt better than he had in a long time. He
didn’t feel so trapped any more. Just… cared for, and worried after.
What comforted him the most was that his surety remained. I have to meet with
Chief Suga.
Throughout the day, Seokjin was fairly busy, Taehyung following him like a
bored but loyal puppy. It still didn’t sit quite right with Jungkook, but
Seokjin had promised they enjoyed their… duties, and Jimin had reinforced it
when he saw Jungkook watching with uncertainty in his eyes.
They sat together then, in one of Seokjin’s courtyards, Jungkook perched on a
short stone wall firing arrows at trees. It was reminiscent of the day he’d
first met Taehyung, thinking he was some traveler. Well. He let an arrow fly,
and a strong gust of cold wind made it shiver just slightly off from its exact
target. I was quite wrong.
“Are you leaving tonight?” Jimin suddenly asked, and the next arrow missed
entirely as Jungkook’s body jolted. When he glanced at the shorter man, black
hair pushed back from his forehead for once, Jimin just shrugged sheepishly and
played with one of the snowdrop flowers that lined the stones. “Taehyung told
me.”
“I will return,” was all Jungkook answered with, and pulled another arrow from
his quiver.
“Please do,” Jimin pled quietly. Jungkook looked at him again, gaze lingering.
Jimin was still staring resolutely at his hands, twisting the stems of flowers
and gently unfurling them. His cheeks were rosy, and he tucked his chin and
mouth into the scarf wrapped around his neck when a particularly biting flurry
of wind blew in. Then, unexpectedly, Jimin scooted on his butt until he was
pressed warmly against Jungkook’s side.
Jungkook knew Jimin enough to see the meaning behind actions. Jimin wasn’t much
for sharing his feelings outwardly, but by small gestures, he would let people
in and let them know they were loved.
Jungkook felt a little less burdened with the grace of not only Taehyung, but
Jimin as well.
He spent the remainder of the afternoon showing Jimin all his little tricks to
archery, in as few words as necessary, because that was all they needed.
~~~
Taehyung had laid out a route for Jungkook. He’d had to start as soon as night
fell.
Soonyoung was a player in it, which made Jungkook nervous, considering he was
valiant in his duties to tell Seokjin everything. He swore he’d remain silent,
however, and Jungkook had no other choice but to accept that.
Soonyoung offered Jungkook a bath after dinner, and they went off, Jungkook
murmuring something about sleepy. Taehyung offered to go with him, to make sure
he didn’t fall asleep in the bath.
From there, they swept through the castle, Soonyoung always going ahead to make
sure hallways were clear. It was rare to find one that wasn’t, but most were
filled with harmless servants. Even the few guards they saw didn’t know any
better, since Jungkook had free roam of the palace, so it wasn’t like it was
odd for him to be going towards the back. That was where the official shooting
range was, anyways.
And the stables, tucked in the back right corner of the grounds.
The only problem they faced when the breached the outdoors was the snow.
Footprints would be horribly noticeable, but luckily it was light snow, and
Taehyung walked backwards to brush them away as best as he could.
Soonyoung helped tack Jungkook’s horse- the same one he’d ridden from his own
castle in the night. The whole scenario was vaguely reminiscent of that, and
Jungkook’s hands shook as he mounted and took the reins. Taehyung got on
another horse, and Jungkook froze, giving him a sharp look.
“I’m going halfway,” Taehyung determined, without question. “Just in case.”
Jungkook wanted to argue, but brushed it off. He sort of preferred having that,
as a comfort. “Wait at the base of the mountain,” Jungkook ordered, and
Taehyung gave a nod. Then, he reached down and clasped Soonyoung’s shoulder.
“Thank you.”
Soonyoung smiled meekly. “Be safe, King Jungkook. Seungkwan will beat my ass if
he knows I helped you go off just to die.”
Jungkook snorted, rolling his eyes as he sat up. He had his gifted bow over his
shoulder and a sword at his hip. “Have a little more faith, Soonyoung.”
Taehyung and the servant shared a look as they passed each other, but no words
were said. Jungkook couldn’t tell if it was a threatening look, or a simple
warning.
The journey felt far too short, from the back exit of the castle to the bottom
of the steeper path down. They slowed to a stop once the incline grew flat and
the clearcut path became muddled with thicker copses of trees. They veer off a
little, so they’re closer to the cliff. From there, Jungkook would travel along
the steady decline to where the forest brush met the sand at sea level.
Taehyung drew his horse to the side, and slid off to tie her to a tree. He came
up to the side of Jungkook’s to grip the king’s thigh.
“If you’re not back by sunrise, I’m going after you,” Taehyung told him, even
as Jungkook shook his head.
“Chief Suga-”
“I’m going after you,” he repeated.
Jungkook scoffed, but it wasn’t cruel. “You never obey orders, do you?”
Taehyung grinned. “Only from my own ruler, dear forest king.”
“Brat.”
“Come on, don’t let that be the last thing you say to me.”
“I will return, Taehyung,” Jungkook breathed in fond exasperation. He placed
his hand over Taehyung’s and leant down to kiss Taehyung’s forehead. “That
means I will see you again, yes?”
Taehyung ducked his head, but nodded. “Sunrise,” Taehyung reminded him,
stepping away, hand lingering as long as he could still reach until it fell
back to his side.
“Sunrise,” Jungkook repeated, a promise. He dug his heels into his horse’s
side, and she began forward again, slow until he coaxed her into a trot. He
didn’t look behind himself, as much as he wanted to. He kept his eyes forward,
and listened for the approaching crash of waves against the cliff’s face. He
could smell it, the salt in the air. He’d never been to Seaside, so it was
strange- and honestly a tad unpleasant. Nothing as horrific as the graphic
sensory details some writings depicted of low tide, however. That, he did not
want to experience.
Otherwise, he relished being in the forest again. The trees felt familiar, even
though he’d never traveled so close to the Seaside Domain before. What was
unfamiliar was the mix of palms he encountered as he drew closer to the beach.
His palms were beginning to feel clammy with fear, which he tried his best to
swallow. If there was anything he’d learned about Chief Suga was that he took
advantage of fear. He’d try to own someone like Jungkook, the mute son of the
late King Jeon, a man as foreboding as the stories of the Seaside leader
himself. Jungkook hoped he at least surprised the Chief with his speech and
demeanor. It had been almost two weeks since he could have heard any news about
Jungkook, and a lot had changed about the forest king.
Jungkook stopped his horse where the trees gave way to beach. The new moon
illuminated nothing. There was no sign of the Chief.
He gingerly slid off his horse and left her tied at the edge of the forest.
When he stepped onto sand, his foot sank, and he jerked his leg back in
surprise, making it kick up and cling to his boots. Jungkook frowned in
distaste at the way it speckled his pants. Where his foot had been, there was
an impressive marking. No hiding that. Though with all the natural lumps and
ridges in the sand, a footprint was easily lost, and he found that trying to
spot any sign of the Chief’s prints was futile in such darkness.
Jungkook stepped forward again, proceeding this time, his feet shifting on
small mounds of the grains. He felt like an idiot, half-stumbling out into the
open stretch of beach. In the distance, it was curved, but Jungkook did not
dare approach the bend, knowing the Domain’s main village dwelled somewhere
beyond that point. He waited, still hovering close to the edge of the trees,
and tried to look for anything- but his eyes were drawn to the ocean. He’d
never seen it like this before.
It was impossibly dark- an inky black in the night, curling and foaming stark
white and crashing. Jungkook was no expert, in fact he knew very little of the
ocean, but it seemed relatively close to high tide rather than low tide. The
waves licked long trails up the sand, and when it receded, the water sank
through the Earth alarmingly quick. He was fascinated- but also terrified. He
couldn’t imagine being in that water, too dark to see anything around him. He’d
seen too many illustrations of toothed or barbed, even electric, sea creatures
to trust that.
A spark caught his eye.
Jungkook turned swiftly, hand at his belt, where his sword was secured. The
spark caught into a flame, erupting from the end of a torch, and an unfamiliar
face was lit with the dancing warm glow. The man was- small. Thin, and with a
pallid face. Narrow eyes. Some greenish tint to his hair that Jungkook couldn’t
place exactly in the orange torchlight.
The man emerged from the treeline, walking comfortably on the sand. He wore a
crisp white shirt and slim black pants, which threw Jungkook off even more.
Overall, the man’s appearance wasn’t what he had expected at all. He began to
fear, for a moment, that maybe this person wasn’t-
But the low voice of the man said surely, “King Jungkook. I received your note.
Color me surprised.”
The chief waited a moment, then opened his mouth to say more, but Jungkook beat
him to it. “As I said, Chief Suga, Jeons are not to be stepped on.”
Suga’s mouth pressed together thinly. Then, the corners of his lips twitched.
“Yes. But you are not your father.”
“No. He was- wrong. Everything he did, everything he taught me to do. So if you
have attacked me because of your feud with him…”
“I have not,” Suga promised, and delicately approached Jungkook, as if not to
scare him. Jungkook was scared. Terrified. But he hid the shaking of his hands
in the flowing folds of his cloak. He tried not to step back as Suga got closer
than Jungkook felt was necessary, but the chief’s next words were murmured and
grave. “We have to find somewhere more private. Everything is not as it seems.”
He reached until he found Jungkook’s forearm, and began to tug him insistently
to the woods again, not looking back.
“Chief-”
“Yoongi.”
Jungkook floundered in silence for a second at that, but hurried his steps so
he was walking with the chief instead of being dragged behind him. “What is
this, Yoongi?” Jungkook muttered, skin crawling with paranoia as they enter the
eerie silence of the forest. The whispering of rustling trees sounded over the
murmur of falling waves as they hurried deeper in.
“Not here.”
Jungkook attempted to pull his arm free, but Yoongi held fast. The strength in
his grip was far greater than Jungkook expected, given his skinny body. Panic
was quickly welling up inside him. Taehyung will look for me at sunrise, he
tried to comfort himself, but he knew the stories of Seaside, so what if I
don’t make it to sunrise?
He felt sick with fear, and worse than that, regret. Images of Seokjin,
hovering over him, kissing him- and of Jimin, laid across the king’s lap, or
playing cards with Jungkook. Soonyoung. Chan. Seungkwan and Hansol.
“I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to help you,” Yoongi hissed, finally
stopping. His torch was weak and small, offering only a tiny circle of
illumination in the darker depths of the forest. Seeing Jungkook’s bewildered
expression, Yoongi sighed. “King Seokjin, he’s-”
“Jungkook!”
Jungkook jolted, and spun around, but the yell was far off. Deep and rough.
Taehyung. He went to run towards it, but Yoongi planted a hand on Jungkook’s
shoulder. “Come with me. Flee with me- you have to.”
“What?” Jungkook squeaked, shaking Yoongi off. “No. No, Tae- my friend is-”
Yoongi’s face hardened. “If that was the voice of Kim Taehyung calling, and he
was aware of your plans tonight, then he is no friend of yours.”
Jungkook stumbled a step back, mind reeling.
He heard another scream, farther, more pained, and he was forced another step
back. His eyes were locked on Yoongi’s, whose remained stone cold, a twinge of
concern in the fall of his eyebrows. Jungkook shook his head, very slowly.
“Jungkook,” Yoongi grunted in warning, but the young king had already turned
and taken off, skipping over roots and ripping through brush to find Taehyung.
King Seokjin, he’s-
Jungkook shook his head, trying to clear it of all thought except how to get to
Taehyung, how to help him, but-
Seokjin, he’s… what?
Chapter End Notes
     Hi, readers.
     There's no easy way to say it, but my dog died, and I was devastated
     and could not find the will to finish this chapter. I did, after a
     few days of gathering myself, but it still hurts, you know? So
     please, I ask you be patient while I mourn. I'll write and upload
     when I can sometime next week, then start on a schedule again.
     Thank you for understanding. Please give feedback on this chapter,
     because I didn't proofread it and I'm curious if you like its
     direction. Finally the promised Jinkook, right?
     ~MC
***** You're Lost in this Darkness, I'll Carry Your Throne *****
Chapter Notes
     I was gone for two weeks because I was sad but now I am back and I
     have brought you some Explicit Content for your pleasure reading.
     :)
     Also, please read the end note.
     Title from Carry Your Throne by Jon Bellion.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Trees streaked past, the dark colors bleeding together like an oil painting.
Jungkook’s breath was puffing white from the cold and his joints ached in the
bitter cold, but he kept his pace. Taehyung’s voice was drawing closer, in
brief shouts of distress.
He shouldn’t have come that close. I shouldn’t have let him.
Jungkook ran with relative ease, having been familiar with thick forest
terrain. A fallen tree slowed him, but only for a moment as he scaled it and
dropped to his feet on the other side, taking off immediately.
“Jungkoo-” The call was cut off by a growl of anger.
So close.
Jungkook pushed himself to go faster, faster, faster-
When he blinked, he was in the dirt, his hands braced beneath his chest, wrists
aching, ankle feeling like it was on fire. He let out a yelp of his own pain,
and Taehyung called his name again, but it was getting farther away, and more
muffled, as if someone was trying to gag him. No, Jungkook thought, and dragged
his knees under him for leverage. He wavered, scrabbling at a nearby tree until
he was upright. He tested pressure on his right leg, his breath knocked from
his lungs at the sharp stab of pain. No, no, he repeated in his mind, and
hopped forward, reaching for the next closest tree.
His throat felt closed, and for a horrible moment, he couldn’t make a sound at
all. It was dead silence, until the name came ripping from his throat,
“Taehyung!”
A form burst from the trees, bowling into Jungkook from his side. He cried out
as they collided with the tree Jungkook was holding onto, his ankle jostling,
and it was excruciating. He could feel the corners of his eyes welling with
tears, but he quelled them, swallowing in lungfuls of air like a man drowning.
He squirmed, body reacting in fight or flight, bucking and grunting and shaking
himself to try and throw the person on top of him.
“Jungkook,” a voice hissed, and Jungkook’s body tensed. Yoongi. He went to yell
again, but the chief clapped a hand over his mouth, muffling it to a weak
whimper. “Stop drawing attention.”
“Get off, get off, get off,” Jungkook pleaded, wetness returning to his eyes.
He gave a strong push, Yoongi going unbalanced for a split second- but that was
all Jungkook needed. He shoved the older man off and reached for his sword, but
Yoongi’s boot was already planted on Jungkook’s hip, blocking him. Jungkook
reached over his shoulder until he grasped an arrow, and he held it like a
dagger, kicking Yoongi away weekly with his left foot.
Yoongi allowed him to grovel away, taking the time to stand and brush dirt and
leaves from his dark blue cloak. He glared at Jungkook through the dark, torch
having been discarded, but held up both his hands in a placating I won’t touch
you gesture. Then, he brought one finger to his lips.
Jungkook stopped struggling on the ground, and tried to catch his breath again,
hand still clenched around the shaft of the arrow. Him and Yoongi were at a
stalemate, neither of them willing to move and risk making noise again. There
were already little shuffles and rustles all around them. Jungkook couldn’t
tell if it was the wind or rats or Seaside warriors. The latter didn’t make
sense- Yoongi had been trying to keep Jungkook away from whatever was out there
since they’d first greeted each other on the beach. It couldn’t be Seokjin’s
people, if they had captured Taehyung.
Oh, Taehyung, Jungkook lamented internally, but it must have showed on his
face, because Yoongi’s expression inexplicably softened. Did he pity Jungkook?
The poor, homeless forest king, forced to take shelter with his father’s sworn
enemy? It was laughable. He’d drawn another person into danger. I am unfit,
Jungkook admitted to himself, feeling waves of horror crashing through his
body, like the high tides he had witness minutes ago. I can’t guide people. I
can’t rule. I can’t make decisions. I can’t- I can’t speak, oh god, stop
talking, Jungkook, stop making it worse every time you have an opinion, it will
always be wrong.
Jungkook had thought the night in the cave with Seokjin was the worst of his
life, but sitting tucked against a tree, Yoongi looming over him to keep him
from moving, listening to the sounds of yells and fighting far off, knowing it
was Taehyung- it was horrific. It was an incredibly long time until it became
quiet. Jungkook wasn’t sure if the silence was worse or better, if Taehyung was
okay, if he was still alive-
The foliage began to rustle around them, and Yoongi crouched over Jungkook,
making the king shrink further back against the tree. Yoongi kept his calm
demeanor, his small eyes scanning their surroundings and leaves brushed against
one another and twigs snapped. From such proximity, Jungkook could feel the
heat of Yoongi’s body, and smell him- which was an odd thing to latch onto, but
it was pleasant and fresh, something he was unsure of. Not oceany, and
definitely not piney like the forest. Not rich like the woodsy cologne of
Seokjin, or fruity like Jimin’s soaps.
There was something else in the air, though. Metallic, almost. Jungkook’s
eyebrows pulled together, and he turned his eyes to where Yoongi was watching.
Something, someone, was approaching from the dense plants and trees to their
right.
The two held perfectly still, holding their breaths.
A figure trampled through the growth, stumbling to the clearer dirt beside
Jungkook. Drips from their clothes and skin pattered against Jungkook’s arm,
the one clutching the arrow. His and Yoongi’s eyes slowly slide up from legs to
waist to chest to neck to-
“Taehyung,” Jungkook breathed, and Yoongi slowly straightened and backed away.
Taehyung paid Jungkook no mind, an animalistic curl on his lips and his eyes
narrowed dangerously as he took a step over Jungkook’s body. More drips landed
on the king. It was blood. That metallic scent- it was strong, permeating the
air now. Taehyung’s sword was by his side, painted crimson, and Jungkook’s
heart skipped a beat before it went into overdrive.
Yoongi squared his shoulders. “I said come alone,” he spoke, as if Taehyung’s
capture was Jungkook’s fault. Well, it is, though, isn’t it? “Whatever my men
did to you-”
“Doesn’t matter any more,” Taehyung said, voice holding more restrain than his
body language. Then, coldly, “Five are dead. Three went running home.” Yoongi
tensed. Taehyung’s lips twitched and stretched into a smirk. “Who is he going
to believe, hyung?” He whispered, and Jungkook, confused as he was, was chilled
by the tone.
“You don’t get it, Taehyung,” Yoongi growled, holding his ground despite
Taehyung inching towards him. “I thought Hyuna explained it.”
Jungkook was shaken by that. Hyuna… Why is that name familiar?
“She did.”
Yoongi, for the first time, seemed caught off guard. “And you chose his side,”
he stated in disbelief.
Taehyung scoffed, and flicked his sword to the side to rid it of the blood
flowing down it in rivulets, and it splattered across Jungkook’s cheek, making
him gasp and flinch. “You’re power hungry. Seokjin wants to protect Jungkook.
He will protect Jungkook.” A final step forward, and he had officially breached
the chief’s personal space. “You will not lie to him and take more from him.”
Yoongi drew out a long breath. Quicker than Jungkook could follow, Yoongi had
drawn his dagger, grabbed Taehyung’s sword arm, and pressed the blade against
Taehyung’s throat. The chief looked sad, maybe even hurt. “You misunderstand,
Taehyung. Seokjin is the liar. Seokjin is the one taking from Jungkook. He’s
taking from you, too. Jimin.” In a softer voice, he added, “Even me.”
Jungkook watched Taehyung swallow, and winced at the sight of his throat
piercing itself on the blade, leaving behind a thin line of welling dots of
blood, not deep or fatal by any means, but a small example of a more lethal
wound waiting to happen. Jungkook tried to stand, leaning heavily on the tree.
Neither man moved a muscle, again ignored him.
“Seokjin is the only good man I know,” Taehyung responded flatly, face falling
blank of emotion. He got ever closer, so his chest bumped with Yoongi’s dagger
digging deeper. “He will not stand for this.”
“Taehyung,” Yoongi stressed, voice thin with tension. “I don’t want to have to
hurt you.”
Taehyung barked a laugh. It was haunting, with no expression. “And I don’t want
to have to kill you. But if I don’t, Seokjin will.”
Yoongi grit his teeth. “He’s already been trying to.”
“For good reason, I’m sure.”
Yoongi extracted his dagger from Taehyung’s neck, and in a second, it was
lodged in his shoulder. Taehyung grunted, curling in on himself a little, but
his legs took a fighting stance and his sword raised. Yoongi ripped his dagger
free, backing up a pace, and took a stance of his own. His mouth was quirked
downwards, but his hands were steady.
“No,” Jungkook pled hoarsely, and Taehyung spared him only a glance. He wants
to protect me. “Stop, you will get hurt.”
“Have a little faith,” Taehyung murmured with a flicker of his smile again, but
then it was gone, and he swung his sword up and over, coming down to Yoongi’s
head. Yoongi blocked it easily with his dagger, the handle grasped in both
hands, keeping it straight and steady to fend off the edge of Taehyung’s sword.
As Taehyung could only use one hand, Yoongi pushed back easily, with enough
force to make Taehyung’s right side stagger, leaving his body open. But Yoongi
did not go for another attack. Taehyung snarled in frustration, and went to
take another swing, but Yoongi kicked his sword hand, throwing off the movement
even while Taehyung kept his grip.
“Stop,” Yoongi barked the order, and Taehyung’s head twitched to the side,
moving his hair from his forehead. It revealed a burning hatred in his eyes.
“Leave Jungkook alone,” Taehyung countered.
“He’ll become a slave to Seokjin!” Yoongi snapped. “Just like you did. Just
like Jimin is. How can you not see?”
“We’re not slaves,” Taehyung hissed, growing more enraged.
“Taehyung-”
“He loves us.”
“Taehyung.”
“And I love them.”
With that, Taehyung surged forward, and Yoongi had no choice but to block
himself again. “Seokjin doesn’t love you. He’s using you,” Yoongi bit out,
straining against the press of Taehyung’s sword against his dagger. “We were
wrong. I am admitting our faults. He’s exploiting himself. He’s power hungry.”
With a huff, he pushed Taehyung away again, and followed through to slash a
gash down Taehyung’s bicep. Taehyung cried out, having to move his injured
shoulder just to curl his left hand over the new gushing wound. He curled over
even more, breath coming in short pants through his pain, but he still tried to
straighten, tried to carry on the fight.
“You’re wrong.” He staggered forward a step, but Jungkook couldn’t bear to
watch him be hurt worse. Damning the throb of his own ankle, and lunged forward
and wrapped his arms around Taehyung from the side, mindful of his shoulder.
Jungkook couldn’t put pressure down on his foot, which was shooting sharp,
licking flames of burning hurt up his leg, and his need to be supported had
Taehyung distracted enough to abandon his advances towards Yoongi. “Jungkook,”
he said, clipped. “What are you doing.”
Instead of speaking, Jungkook turned his begging eyes to Yoongi, who watched
the two bloodied men with a grievous face. Nonetheless, the chief retracted,
and Taehyung convulsed, wanting to go after him, but Jungkook held tight, his
dead weight draped against the other man.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you today, Jungkook. But I will, one day,” Yoongi
promised. Jungkook didn’t know if he needed to be saved. He didn’t know if he
wanted to be. “And Taehyung-” Yoongi paused, stopping at the edge of the where
the darkness would swallow him into shadow. “You don’t have to trust me. But
don’t trust Seokjin.”
“Get out of here before I kill you.”
Yoongi pressed his lips together, and looked down at the ground before shaking
his head in melancholy and turning to leave.
Someone jumped from a tree, and Yoongi spun again immediately, dagger beared.
Jungkook didn’t need more surprises that night- especially not in the form of
Jimin, crouched and wielding a dagger of his own.
“Jimin!” Taehyung cried, distressed, really trying to squirm from Jungkook’s
hold now. His arms were too weakened by his wounds to push the king off.
“That’s Chief Suga, stay away from him.”
“Have a little faith,” Jimin repeated Taehyung’s earlier words coldly, and
Taehyung fell eerily still in Jungkook’s arms, chest stuttering shallowly.
Everything that was said- it alluded to some involvement of Taehyung’s. A fact
Taehyung clearly had not wanted Jimin knowing.
Yoongi growled in frustration. He knew his position, in that situation. Jimin,
so loyal to Seokjin, would have notified the mountain king. There were probably
soldiers crawling through the forest, searching for Taehyung and Jungkook, and
they would surely apprehend Yoongi if he was found with the two of them, both
wounded. He looked past Jimin, at Jungkook. “I’ll save you,” he repeated
shortly, softly, then turned with a wide sweep of his dark blue cloak, like the
dark contracting ocean, and he was gone. Taken by darkness.
Jimin straightened, turning halfway, face whipping around to glare at Taehyung
and Jungkook. There were tears in his eyes, dripping slowly from his waterline,
and as Jungkook watched, the angry line of his mouth quivered into a scared
frown. A tear caught in the deep corner of his lips, and Jungkook softened his
hold on Taehyung, releasing him fully to hop on one foot to Jimin, who rushed
forward to catch Jungkook in an embrace before the king could even begin to
lose his balance.
“You’re stupid. So stupid. Both of you are idiots,” he whispered into
Jungkook’s neck, still smattered with the blood Taehyung had gotten on him.
Jimin didn’t seem to notice, or just didn’t care. His small body shuddered with
withheld sobs.
Jungkook craned his neck back, trying to see Taehyung. The man was still stood
in the same spot, same position, hand over his bicep, face speckled with blood,
jaw tight with anger, back hunched over in a posture that told Jungkook just
how bad he was hurting, yet he expressed none of it.
Jimin sniffed, and raised his head to look as well. “Tae?” He questioned
meekly, voice watery. That seemed to snap the other out of it, at least, and
Taehyung slowly looked up, the terrifying look falling from his face. Finally,
he drooped, and he shuffled until his chest was against Jungkook’s back. The
arm with the slash wound around both Jungkook and Jimin, slipping into the
latter’s raven hair, dragging his head forward until they were kissing over
Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook couldn’t find it in himself to mind. He felt he
had no right to complain, as he had led Taehyung to get hurt. He was baffled
Jimin didn’t hate him for it. He was baffled Taehyung didn’t hate him for it.
Tears of Jungkook’s own began to spill, and he hiccupped with a repressed
whimper. Taehyung and Jimin noticed, and broke away from one another, both of
them looking to Jungkook, who had his head frontways and downcast.
Jimin’s small fingers were featherlight when they touched under the king’s
chin, and Jungkook knew they must have looked tragic. Taehyung watched in
rapture at the two crying men. Jungkook’s heart was in his throat, his lips
trembling, but that didn’t stop Jimin from leaning forward and kissing them. It
was slow, and sensual, immediately delving with gentle strokes of tongue that
had Jungkook melting back against Taehyung with whimpers. The two held him
tight, Taehyung dipping down to press his mouth against the juncture of
Jungkook’s neck, Jimin using his gentle hold on Jungkook to tilt his head
further, giving both of them more access to what they wanted. And Jungkook let
them take. And take. Until he was breathless and shivering and the languid
kisses to his lips and sweet pecks to his neck stopped coming, and they were
reduced to a huddled, hugging group of shaken men.
“Let’s go home,” Jimin whispered, face then pressed into Jungkook’s shoulder,
and Taehyung hummed where his forehead was leaned against Jungkook’s head.
“Home,” Jungkook repeated.
~~~
“We match now,” Taehyung giggled as nurses cleared the area, showing his bare
upper half and wrapped shoulder to Jimin.
“That’s not a good thing!” The black-haired man berated him, hitting Taehyung
lightly on his chest, only to stop and run his hand over the golden skin with a
content sigh.
Taehyung snickered again, taking Jimin’s wrist to drag the shorter man into his
lap, holding onto his waist and resting his cheek against his ribs. Jungkook
watched from another infirmary bed, awed and slightly put-off by the complete
change he saw in Taehyung from earlier. Even in their tender moment in the
forest, and the whole way up the mountain, accompanied by Seokjin’s soldiers,
he had kept blank and strong. But all the blood had since been washed away,
taking Taehyung’s temporary madness with it. Now he was simple the Tae that
Jungkook had come to know recently; smiling, goofy Tae with a soft spot for
Jungkook, and a softer spot for Jimin.
Seokjin had yet to see them. He was awake and aware of the situation of course,
Jimin having told him.
Jungkook was terrified.
Then Soonyoung appeared, with Hansol. They kept their heads down as they
approached. Jungkook looked up at them from where he was perched on the edge of
the bed, brows drawn, mouth clamped tightly shut. He’d said nothing since the
home he’d uttered in the forest.
Soonyoung bypassed Jungkook, stopping to bow to Taehyung and Jimin, who didn’t
separate but gave their attention. “King Seokjin wants to see you both.”
Taehyung lifted his head a little. “Right now? The nurses want to check my
stitches in a few-”
“He demands it,” Soonyoung murmured, head bending lower. Taehyung stared at the
servant for a moment, eyes vacating. Jungkook tensed, knowing that look, but it
passed, and Taehyung nudged Jimin to stand.
“But- Tae, you have to stay,” Jimin tried to protest. “I’ll go. I’ll explain.”
Taehyung looked over Jimin’s shoulder, meeting Jungkook’s scared eyes with
stoic ones. Then, leaning in to Jimin’s ear, he muttered, “It will be worse for
you if you go alone. Come on.” He took Jimin’s hand with care and they followed
Soonyoung’s hunched form from the room. As they passed Jungkook, the king
jolted. Along Soonyoung’s cheekbone was a long, pale bruise.
Hansol stepped in front of Jungkook’s line of sight. He, too, had been watching
the interaction between the other three. The servant’s face was pale, cold
sweat on his hairline, mouth a hard line. He bowed shortly to Jungkook. It felt
wrong. “I… have been ordered to keep watch over you,” Hansol informed him,
voice small. Jungkook opened his mouth, but stopped. He looked away and nodded.
But he couldn’t help himself.
“What will Seokjin do?”
Hansol turned his body away a little, and sat next to Jungkook. His hands toyed
with threads in his pants, and Jungkook’s eyes latched onto the movement.
Blandly, he said, “King Seokjin is not cruel. Only fair.”
~~~
Jisoo’s breath rattled, and Yoongi held his own. A pregnant pause ensued.
Rattle.
Yoongi released, and white puffs came from his cold lips.
“Is it more cruel, to keep him alive?” He wondered quietly.
“Perhaps…” Hyuna answered. She was huddled against the wall, her usually
beautiful wraps held close around her, now dirtied and damp from the wet rocks
of the cave. Her pretty face was tucked down into her folded up knees, trying
desperately to salvage her own body heat, but all of theirs was fading fast.
Most of the skins Yoongi had managed to get were piled around Jisoo, but both
of them were wondering if it was worth it any more. “Chief…?
Yoongi hummed, eyes closed, body slumped. He had a cut through his shirt that
left him open to the cold air. It stung at the wound, deep, but not horribly
so. Without medical treatment, however-
“When will they come?”
Yoongi did not know. “Soon,” is all he gave. But soon could mean anything. A
few minutes, a few hours- but the likely answer was a few days.
They wouldn’t survive as they were.
Yoongi's eyes cracked open, and drifted to Jisoo. He stood, and traipsed to the
makeshift bed they’d formed on a mound of dirt with deerskin laid over it. He
looked down at Jisoo’s unhealthy pallor, the blue-green veins of his eyelids,
the hollow of his cheeks.
Letting him die wouldn’t help them at that point.
Yoongi lifted the edge of one of the furs, and slipped under, conforming his
front to Jisoo’s side. Hyuna joined him on the other side of the man a moment
later, having figured out what exactly he was doing. Once she was under the
blankets, she tucked her cold nose into Jisoo’s clothed shoulder and released a
small whimper- but it was relieved. Before long, their bodies had procured a
shared heat between them. Yoongi was certain Jisoo would not appreciate the
Seaside leader that had captured him and a woman he didn’t know snuggling up to
him while he was sleeping, close to death, but he would at least accept it as
the logical move.
“Try to sleep, Hyuna,” Yoongi encouraged her, closing his own eyes again. “They
will come soon,” he repeated.
Please, come soon.
~~~
Jungkook went to bed alone, Hansol standing outside his door with Seungkwan,
who had joined him out of pity after finishing his own duties. He hadn’t seen
Taehyung or Jimin again the rest of the night, and as dawn broke, Jungkook gave
up waiting in the infirmary and asked to sleep since he hadn’t yet. Even tired
as he was, he was lying in Taehyung’s bed wide awake. The sheets were cool on
his mostly bare body, so he pushed it down in favor for the softness of the
blanket. His right foot felt bulky and uncomfortable in its brace. It was
painfully repositioned, casted, wrapped, and Jungkook was shot full of
painkillers before going to bed. Hansol had to help him up the stairs,
painstakingly slow, a crutch on one side of Jungkook and his other side
supported by the servant. But he’d insisted on going to the top floor. He was
hoping it would be the first place for Taehyung and Jimin to look for him,
especially with Hansol and Seungkwan standing obviously outside the room.
They’d see them and know as soon as they left Seokjin’s room. If they were even
in there. It had been quiet since Jungkook had reached the top floor of the
tower.
Then again, there was a constant thrumming in his brain from the medicine
they’d given him, so maybe it’s just that drowning out whatever may have been
going on.
The drugs were too heavy for him not to drift, eventually, into sleep. It was
thick, but not heavy. Light enough for Jungkook to hear a small argument, his
door opening. He squinted his eyes open, and groaned croakily, lifting his
head. Jimin was walking towards Jungkook’s bedside, wrapped just in a silk,
dusty pink robe. Without saying anything, he eased himself on the bed beside
Jungkook, face twisting with discomfort for a moment before he could find the
right position under the blankets. Jungkook met his eyes with concern, but
Jimin seemed lax, his skin warm like a hearth, glowing healthily. Concubine,
Jungkook remembered, and blushed a little, but his skull still felt filled with
mush, and he rested his head back on his pillow.
“How are you?” Jimin whispered, voice husky, not wanting to disturb the
comfortable, soft atmosphere.
Jungkook shrugged, and raised an eyebrow.
Jimin’s smile fell a little at Jungkook’s lack of words. He cleared his throat.
“I’m fine, Jungkook. Seokjin didn’t- he wasn’t angry. He was relieved we were
okay, and grateful that we protected you.” The fading smile turned into a tiny,
mischievous smirk. “He was just showing us that.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, but allowed his lips to twitch up. He lifted his
hand, feeling like it was weighed by bricks, and placed it on the mattress
between their chests. Jimin moved his own hand up to hold Jungkook’s, entwining
their fingers happily. Softly, Jungkook asked, “Taehyung?”
“He’s back in the infirmary. Seokjin was gentle with him, but urged him to
check his stitches just in case.”
With his free arm, Jungkook slid his hand over Jimin’s shoulder to his neck,
where he thumbed at a dark purple bruise. Jimin gasped, and it turned into a
chuckle. “Yes, not as gentle with me, despite my own shoulder injury.” Jungkook
frowned, and Jimin brought their laced fingers to his mouth to hide his grin,
but Jungkook could feel it. “I asked for it that way,” Jimin explained lightly.
“Begged for it, in fact.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes harder and tried to turn away, but with his body
feeling like gelatin, he only managed to turn on his back. That, and Jimin’s
secure hold on his hand. Jimin scooted closer and wrapped a leg over
Jungkook’s. The robe had slipped enough for Jungkook to feel the smoothness of
Jimin’s skin against his own, hairless like he knew girls kept their legs. A
satisfied sigh escaped the concubine.
“Seokjin’s relieved you’re okay as well, you know. He could show you. Me and
Taehyung, too,” Jimin murmured against Jungkook’s neck, and the king shivered.
Jimin giggled, breath fanning Jungkook’s throat. “We’d be gentle.”
Jungkook’s breath caught. Where he had been cold earlier, he suddenly felt too
hot with the combination of sleep, blankets, Jimin’s body and his- offer.
Jimin’s free hand had begun skimming over his chest under the covers. It was
rising and falling quickly under the touch. “Jimin,” he panted, and Jimin
hummed, lips vibrating against Jungkook’s neck.
“Say my name like that again,” Jimin asked, fingertips pressing over the ridges
of the muscles in Jungkook’s abdomen.
“Jimin,” Jungkook whined again, and caught his wrist as it passed along his
stomach, quivering with arousal. Jimin stopped, simply breathing steadily into
Jungkook’s shoulder, placing small presses of his lips against the skin. Then,
he shifted his hand, so their palms were together, and suddenly Jungkook’s arms
were being held down and Jimin was hovering over him.
“Seokjin told me he kissed you,” Jimin conversed, and Jungkook nodded as if in
a dream. Jimin’s face inched closer. “Maybe I want more than that.” Jungkook
nodded again, and Jimin inhaled sharply, eyes sparkling in the dim light
bleeding through the heavy curtains. “Really?”
Jungkook swallowed, and nodded once more, slower this time. He knew he
shouldn’t, in his drug-induced haze, but that just made every sense all the
sweeter.
“Let me hear it,” Jimin begged, eyes fluttering closed. He had such pretty
eyelashes. Everything about him, breathtaking-
“Yes. Please, yes,” Jungkook released in a moan, lifting his head to press his
mouth against Jimin’s, who met him and forced him back down to the pillow.
Jimin made sure the pace was kept maddeningly slow, teeth dragging across
Jungkook’s bottom lip before his tongue followed. Jungkook was more than okay
with the other man taking the lead, slotting their mouths easily together,
sucking on Jungkook’s tongue.
“Touch me,” Jimin ordered breathlessly, nudging Jungkook’s chin up with his
nose so he could get at the underside of his jaw. Jungkook stretched his throat
out, and as soon as Jimin released his wrists, his hands were on the shorter
man’s waist. The robe he was wearing was practically hanging off of him, giving
Jungkook access to glide his palms up Jimin’s bare skin, spreading the material
further. Jimin bit at his neck just as Jungkook’s thumbs brushed his nipples,
eliciting pleasured noises from both of them. “More,” Jimin demanded.
Jungkook let out a choked noise when Jimin’s hips stuttered downwards, their
fronts dragging together. Jungkook had felt him, had felt Jimin’s hard arousal,
and he couldn’t think, he could only do. Obeying Jimin’s command, his hands
roamed every inch of the older man’s torso, down to his strong dancer’s hips,
dragging them harshly down to be flush with Jungkook’s. Jimin yelped in minor
pain, but Jungkook felt no remorse, especially when it was immediately followed
by a wanton mewling. Jungkook felt Jimin’s teeth sink into his shoulder as
their hips ground together on instinct, and Jungkook was fully aroused by then.
It felt so sweet, so perfect, and Jimin hadn’t even touched Jungkook below the
belt yet.
He wanted him to.
“Jimin, please-“ he tried, but his words weren’t orchestrating, too much lust
and nervousness buzzing through him, overwhelming him. His stomach was mad with
butterflies, his heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. Show him, a
bolder part of himself urged. Do it first.
Jungkook’s fingernails dug into Jimin’s hips for a second, before he softened
his hold to trace them down the v-shape where they connected with Jimin’s
thighs. Jungkook knew just how strong and thick Jimin’s thighs were. Just the
thought of them- and now the feeling, as he gripped them, the man going crazy
above him. Begged for it, Jimin’s words flit through Jungkook’s mind. He had a
feeling roles would be reversed.
Jungkook splayed his palms on Jimin’s inner thighs. The robe was just hanging
silk by then, the tie having come loose. Jungkook could touch anywhere he
wanted, look anywhere he wanted, but his heavy lidded eyes were entranced by
Jimin’s impossibly dark, lustful gaze.
“Oh, fuck,” Jimin purred, and the expletive was jarring, something Jungkook had
not heard very often in his life. The way Jimin said it, with intention and
power, made Jungkook’s face go warm. He so desperately needed to be touched,
anywhere that felt good, anywhere at all. Jimin smirked, and traced a finger
under Jungkook’s chin. “You’re too beautiful.”
Jungkook shook his head, probably having stars in his eyes, looking up at a
true spectacle. Jimin was godly. His raven hair was mussed, haphazardly sexy,
and his cheeks were dusted pink from heat and desire. He was the image of lust,
a deadly sin Jungkook wanted to commit if it meant doing so with Jimin.
“Kiss me,” Jungkook sighed, eyes feathering shut, feeling too dreamy and
smoldering to do much more.
Against his lips, Jimin said again, “Touch me,” before angling his head and
dipping down, kissing Jungkook breathless, finding his tongue and sliding
against it, leaving his mouth red with harsh nips and soothing licks. It was
hot and wet and as Jimin obeyed his plea, Jungkook obeyed Jimin’s.
Jungkook’s tentative hand finally wrapped around Jimin.
He was vastly overwhelmed, shivering beneath Jimin’s body, but the sweet little
whimper Jimin released into his mouth as he sucked on Jungkook’s tongue was too
good. Jungkook jerked his hand smoothly up, his own hips searching for the
friction that usually came when he did that motion to himself, but there was no
touch.
“Jimin,” he mewled between kisses, not wanting to separate their mouths for
more than a second of time. He allowed Jimin to silence him with a deep
invasion of his tongue, but as they inched apart for a breath of air, managed
go get in, “I need-“
And Jimin knew what he needed. Took his sweet time getting to what Jungkook
needed. The older man’s blunt nails scraped lightly down Jungkook’s front,
thumbed at the underwear Jungkook slept in, bypassed the waistband to ghost
over the aching bulge, pressing with a curled hand. Jungkook gasped, having to
tear himself free from Jimin’s lips just to escape the feeling of drowning. He
felt flames in his belly, his mind was fuzzy. No one had ever-
“What do you need, baby?” Jimin whispered in his ear, pinching the sensitive
skin below it between his teeth, moving down further to create more lovely
markings. Jungkook wanted precisely that. But Jungkook also wanted Jimin’s hand
on his bare skin. Jungkook wanted everything. Jungkook needed all of Jimin.
He pushed at the silk covering Jimin’s shoulders, and Jimin got the message,
shirking it off and dropping it to the side of the bed. As his plump lips
continued sucking bruises onto Jungkook’s collarbone, his small hands gripped
both of Jungkook’s hips, making the king feel so small. In a fluid motion, his
underwear was past his knees, allowing Jungkook to kick them the rest of the
way off with his good foot to get lost amongst the twisting sheets.
Jimin rolled his hips into Jungkook’s without warning, then, their thighs
grinding against each other’s lengths. Jungkook breathed a moan and locked his
arms around Jimin, scrabbling for purchase on his back, moist with sweat in the
warm room.
“I can make this feel better,” Jimin panted, continuing a rhythm, one that had
Jungkook’s feverish head spinning as he struggled to keep up with it. “I can
make you feel so good.”
Jungkook shook his head. He was already too far gone- and too scared of what
going further would mean. “Just like this,” Jungkook begged, throwing his head
back and swallowing a shout as Jimin took him in hand.
Jimin nodded, hair brushing Jungkook’s sternum as the other man leaned into
him, an elbow coming up to hold his weight above Jungkook. He was jerking both
of them in his span of fingers at a brutal speed, and Jungkook was biting his
lip hard enough to taste blood in a futile attempt not to cry out. He was
positively writhing against the mattress, legs spreading of their own will,
giving Jimin room between them. The feeling of Jimin’s squeezing hand, the way
he thumbs over Jungkook’s head, the slick of Jimin’s cock against his own, the
fluid motions of Jimin’s body fucking into his own fist- Jungkook could only
imagine what going further would entail, Jimin inside him with those wickedly
thrusting hips. The nervous arousal of wanting to know, of craving it, was like
magma in his gut.
“Let me hear you,” Jimin growled, the muscles in his arm straining, the tendons
in his hand stretching uncomfortably to accommodate them both. “Scream my name.
Tell the whole kingdom who makes you feel this good.”
“Jimin,” Jungkook sobbed, and there were tears streaming from his eyes. He
wasn’t entirely sure if it was because of pleasure or anxiety or fear, but he
was dwindling on the edge of climax and it was so much, too much, he couldn’t
think-
He screamed, head tilting back further, teeth gritting in a list-ditch effort
to silence himself, but it was far too late. He came so hard his ears rang and
his vision flashed white. His whole body tingled with that feeling of pins and
needles when the blood returns to a limb that had fallen asleep. He was openly
sobbing above the whispers of soothing praise spilling from Jimin’s lips,
shuddering and twitching beneath Jimin’s firm hands.
Jimin’s breathing was stuttered. He, too, was shaking in the touch of his
jittery hands to Jungkook’s overheated skin. Their semen was pooled together
between them.
The white noise filling Jungkook’s world faded to the dull roar of blood, and
he heard Jimin gently murmuring, “Jungkook, Jungkook,” against his shoulder.
Jungkook hiccuped as he forced his tears to calm some. He was too boneless to
hold Jimin back, and a lump in his throat kept him from speaking. The most he
could do was turn his chin down to tuck his face into Jimin’s hair, inhaling a
deep, unsteady breath of the concubine’s sweet scent, now laced with sex and
sweat.
Jimin deflated in relief, shifting his head so he could stretch his neck up and
kiss Jungkook, one last time, with utmost care. A much needed you’re okay. “You
did so good,” Jimin said in a press of lips, and it stung the splits where
Jungkook had bit down too hard. Jimin noticed, and soothed his tongue over the
metallic-tasting skin before tangling it with Jungkook’s own begging tongue,
wanting to feel more, as much of Jimin as the king could salvage. Jungkook
figured it was with inhuman strength that Jimin was able to lift his hand- the
one clean from their release- to thumb at the salty trails dribbling into
Jungkook’s hairline. “So perfect,” Jimin sighed, and Jungkook breathed in the
complement, chasing the warmth of Jimin’s mouth, never wanting to stop. Jimin
indulged the king for as long as he needed.
~~~
Jungkook didn’t try to hide what Jimin did to him. The marks of ownership and
conquer that littered Jungkook’s throat where his shirt didn’t cover. He was
still tired when he woke up later. Dressed in long cotton clothes and wrapped
in a throw blanket from one of Taehyung’s chairs, he crutched his way
downstairs sometime after lunch. The dining room was just being cleared, only
two plates having been set up, the seats behind them vacated.
Jimin was still dozing when Jungkook had left the room, muscles tender from his
activities with Seokjin and then the younger king. They were both painted with
hickeys and scratches and dried come- but Jungkook had cleaned the latter
before leaving.
When he had emerged from the room, Hansol and Seungkwan were there, slumped
against each other on the floor, snoring softly. Jungkook had snorted softly at
the pitiful sight, hoping their ears had been saved from Jungkook’s actions
earlier.
He met Soonyoung as he was wandering around the various common rooms. Jungkook
didn’t know if he wanted to find Seokjin and Taehyung or avoid them, but it was
a pleasant surprise to run into the servant instead. He’d been worried- but
seeing him then, Soonyoung looked like his cheery self again, carrying a plush,
square pillow.
“Hello, King Jungkook. How is your foot?” Soonyoung wondered, slowing to a stop
and clutching the pillow to his chest. Jungkook smiled sleepily, and shrugged
it off. “The king’s attending some meetings at the moment.” He jostles the
pillow a little. “This is for Taehyung. You can join if you want, but...”
Jungkook shook his head, and Soonyoung hummed. “Probably for the better. Have
you seen Jimin?”
Jungkook blushed, ducking his head and nodding. He cleared his throat a little.
“Upstairs.”
Soonyoung squinted at Jungkook, eyes straying from his face, and the man’s eyes
grew comically. “Did-“ He almost asked, but stopped himself, shifting on his
feet. “Does King Seokjin already know?” Jungkook shrugged helplessly. “I’ll...
leave that up to you. You will, right? This isn’t-“
“No. Jimin wouldn’t be unloyal,” Jungkook interrupted. That, he was sure of. He
was probably the one who told Seokjin and brought all the guards to Seaside the
night before. Jungkook knew he should have felt- something. Betrayal, perhaps,
but it saved him. It saved Taehyung. There was no doubt in his mind, after,
that those two would never truly betray him. It was for the better. Jimin,
Taehyung, Seokjin, even Seokjin’s servants- they all wanted to help Jungkook.
He felt safest in the palace, even if a little suffocated. He could live with
that. They would do him justice. Yoongi, while his words were believable to an
extent, full of emotion, Jungkook did not trust them. He had taken everything
from Jungkook, all in one night. And Seokjin had been the one to take him to
safety.
He felt ungrateful for a terrible second. Like he had betrayed them. And what
it caused-
“I know,” Soonyoung agreed, and Jungkook blinked, raising his head again.
Soonyoung was grinning, already moving again. “My friend Mingyu’s in the
kitchen, ask him for something to eat,” the servant suggested over his
shoulder. “King Seokjin will find you when he’s done.”
Trepidation washed over Jungkook briefly, but he remembered what Jimin had told
him. Seokjin wasn’t mad. He was relieved. He wouldn’t receive punishment- not
from another king. The most Seokjin would do was- well, what he did to Taehyung
and Jimin.
Jungkook wrapped his blanket more securely around his shoulders before
crutching back to the dining room, taking in anything and everything to steal
his mind away from unclean thoughts. He found himself taking in Seokjin’s
decor- minimal, but extravagant. There were scattered portraits of past kings,
or scene depicting battles and celebrations. Ornate, dark wood tables sat under
windows, seeming to hold no obvious purpose. Jungkook was even tempted to open
one of the drawers, but refrained if only to withhold from seeming like a
snoop.
When he entered the kitchens, they were huge, spotless. White floors with
beautiful marble countertops and large ovens and expansive stoves. The deep
sinks were clear of all dishes, drying racks holding the tableware from lunch.
Jungkook didn’t know who this Mingyu was, but Soonyoung had definitely
mentioned him in passing. All Chan had ever had to say about the man was
giraffe or beanpole, so Jungkook assumed he was at least a little tall.
There was only three people in the kitchen, two of them being small, cute girls
with their hair tied into buns and held back by bandanas, and a man with rich
tan skin and a calm focus to the way he methodically cleaned the countertop.
Jungkook suddenly felt silly in his blanket and leaning on his crutch, but he
approached anyways. The two girls smiled and bowed, and Jungkook tried to smile
back, but probably grimaced as his hurt foot knocked against a cart of fresh
fruits. The man looked up at the small noise of it, and his eyes widened. He
quickly dropped his rag and bowed. He was taller than Jungkook, dressed in a
navy blue shirt and a white apron. His black hair was also held from his eyes
by a bandana, folded over like a headband. Jungkook cocked his head at the man.
“King Jungkook,” he said in a soft, smooth voice. It was pleasant and deep,
something Jungkook wouldn’t mind listening to for hours. “My name is Mingyu.
Can I help you?”
Jungkook gnawed on his lip for a moment, still raw and stinging. He released it
when he began to taste the beginnings of blood. “Is there something quick and
easy I could eat?”
“Oh, yes! Anything, even not quick or easy. We have some venison caught this
morning, the fresh fruit you ran into, vegetable soup- anything at all,” he
rushed out, and when he smiled, it was crooked and toothy.
Jungkook chuckled. “Just… a sandwich and tea would be nice.”
“Of course.” The man bowed again, and went to turn, but ended up spinning all
the way back around, a finger raised. “What kind of sandwich?”
“Surprise me.” He turned again- and, also again, did a 360, finger still up. He
opened his mouth, but Jungkook beat him to it, highly amused and charmed, “Earl
grey.” Mingyu went about making it, and Jungkook loitered, not having much else
to do. The girls came to talk to him, and they were nice enough. Hyojin and
Jeonghwa. When Jungkook’s food was done, the three chefs leaned against the
table, letting the king take the only stool in the kitchen, and chatted lively.
Jungkook found himself quite entertained by their three distinct, clashing
personalities. Mingyu and Hyojin argued about the use of lemon in dishes for a
few solid minutes, and when Jeonghwa defended Mingyu’s side- they add that
extra something a lot of the time- Hyojin turned to Jungkook for backup, which
he gave her, even though he kind of liked lemon.
The chefs only fell silent when the double doors of the kitchen swung open,
Seokjin breezing in with an annoyed expression, Taehyung following like he was
sleepwalking. He was so… lax and docile. When Seokjin spotted Jungkook, the
forest king’s heart leapt to his throat, but Seokjin seemed to breathe a little
easier upon seeing him. The chefs bowed, but Seokjin ignored them, beckoning to
Jungkook.
Jungkook nodded once, turning to Mingyu with his empty plate and mug. “Thank
you, Mingyu. It was a pleasure, all of you,” he added for Hyojin and Jeonghwa’s
sake.
He was still a little apprehensive as he stood and slowly moved to Seokjin’s
side, skillfully avoiding the fruit cart that time. Once he was stood before
the mountain king, Seokjin’s long fingers reached up to brush under Jungkook’s
jaw. Jungkook froze. He’d forgot, while laughing with the chefs, about the
marks he wore. It’s not a secret, he reminded himself- but Seokjin’s eyes were
growing dark, possessive. Taehyung, with his chin rested on Seokjin’s shoulder,
raised an eyebrow at Jungkook’s bitten lips and ravaged neck. There was no
other evidence, but it was enough.
“How did he touch you?” Seokjin murmured, mindful of the others in the room.
Jungkook had a feeling it was only for his sake, and any other time Seokjin
would simply speak freely of it.
Jungkook’s chest shuddered with a surprised breath. “What?”
“How,” Seokjin repeated, grasping Jungkook’s chin and drawing him nearer,
taking the younger king’s breath away, “did Jimin touch you?”
Jungkook could barely stand to keep eye contact, but felt he had to. He was
shaking minutely. It’s not a secret, he repeated to himself again. But his eyes
still darted to the chefs. Seokjin’s grip tightened, and Jungkook winced,
retaining his focus again. “He made me come,” Jungkook whispered, voice
quivering. It felt wrong on his tongue. Never had he said anything like it
before.
Seokjin’s eyebrow twitched. “How.”
“Not- Not what you’re thinking. Seokjin, I can-” Jungkook began, but Seokjin’s
intensity had melted into content.
“Good.”
“I-... good?” Jungkook asked meekly. Seokjin’s lips quirked.
“He can touch you any way he wants. Taehyung can touch you any way he wants.
Except I,” his voice dropped so low, Jungkook could barely hear- but he did. He
caught every word of it. “I get to fuck you.”
Jungkook nearly choked. He took a step back, but he didn’t want to, he wanted
to step closer. It was just what was for the better. Jungkook nodded, very
small.
“Now,” Seokjin continued to talk quietly, head tilting to the side. “Why don’t
we talk about your meeting with Min Yoongi.”
Chapter End Notes
     Thoughts, opinions, give me all of it.
     So, my plan, just so no one complains, is to begin establishing the
     dynamic of this relationship and it will include quite a bit of
     explicit content. Don't say I didn't warn you, it's been in the
     rating. However, while this is going on, we'll also see more of
     Yoongi and Hyuna and Wonwoo and the servants and Others (wink wink),
     so don't you worry, the plot is absolutely still progressing in the
     ways I need it to, even if it does just seem like a load of smut.
     But, like I've said before, your opinions drive my writing, so share,
     please! Thank you for being patient for this chapter.
     This week is also production week for my winter production so I can't
     promise on on-time update by next Sunday since I'll be spending every
     day, all day at my school, trying to keep up with homework and line
     memorization. I will try my best, though, so send me a prayer, y'all.
     ~MC
***** Let My Heart Be Your Shelter *****
Chapter Notes
     ...yeah, yeah I'm a slacker, this took two and a half weeks and it's
     not even substantial. Fear not, however, because I don't plan on
     abandoning this and I would never take more than a month to update.
     I'll try to be better, forgive me.
     Title is from Shelter by machineheart.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Hoseok sat so the warm glow of the fire painted his tan face in rich flickering
light, intensifying the orange tones of his dyed hair. His eyes were downcast,
watching the flames lick at the logs, hands clasped tight together under his
chin, elbows supported on his knees. His heart had been heavy the past few
weeks, even before their planned attack had happened, but after…
Flicking his gaze to Namjoon, the other seemed just as troubled, head in his
hands from a mixture of exhaustion and stress. He returned to watching the
fire, finding it soothing. Everyone was quiet, even the small group of soldiers
they had brought, who were usually interacting with an amiable ease. They still
hung in groups of intermixed Easterners and Westerners, but they didn’t do much
other than eat their rations and share their flasks.
Hoseok had allowed them four hours to nap, eat, drink- whatever they wanted,
then it was back on the journey again. Neither king of the cliffs wanted to
delay their trip in any way. The night had been too cold, and the crisp air and
watery light filtering between thick trees was not much better the next day.
Already, it was late enough for them to have started a fire just for the sake
of light and heat, the sun sinking with odd patches of light coming through in
streaks. The sun was most blinding as it was setting, after all. Hoseok had
decided kept his back to it, letting it seep in and give weak warmth while his
front was getting hot from his proximity to the fire.
He dreaded it, but he knew when it was time.
He stood slowly, knees crackling. The cold had stiffened his joints, even in so
short time. He stretched for good measure, noting as Namjoon reluctantly did
the same. They met eyes as Hoseok was rolling his shoulders to loosen the
muscles there, and they wore twin expressions of gravity. Namjoon, as tired as
he so clearly was, had a deep concern written across his features. Hoseok felt
it, too. Four hours is a long time to someone who’s in danger. Their men, and
they themselves, had needed the short rest they’d gotten, but it still didn’t
feel good to them.
Hoseok considered just barking out an order, but he felt too weary to even do
that. Besides, they were in hostile territory by then. The quieter, the better.
He was sure they could hold their own against a patrol of Seaside members- or
are they ex-Seaside now?- but that didn’t mean they wanted to, especially in
their fatigued state.
So, he went around to shake the shoulders of sleeping soldiers, and others took
up suit. They moved quickly but quietly, drowsily getting to their horses. As
soon as Namjoon and Hoseok were settled in their saddles, they were moving
again, slower than before, more cautious. Their archers kept their bows at
their sides, and swordsmen kept a hand on their belts.
In all honesty, Hoseok had no idea where exactly they were to go. He had
general ideas, places that had been pointed out to him during pre-planning,
long before those plans had changed. But those places had been pointed out to
the enemy, too. Namjoon, considered incredibly intelligent between their allied
kingdoms, had given his best rationale to pinpoint where to check in what
order, so Hoseok was trusting the other king. He was used to that, though, and
had no problem with it. Hoseok’s pre-established faith in Namjoon had only been
strengthened in the recent events.
It was only another half hour or so until they reached their first destination.
It was wretchedly brisk, Hoseok shivering even in his thick layers. He
dismounted his horse, and cautiously approached the odd layout of the ground,
where it dropped off and branched into systems of caves.
Sliding metal drew Hoseok’s attention to his right, where Namjoon had stepped
forward, gazing down into the pit where the grass cut off and curled over the
edge of a short dirt and stone wall.
“Ready?” He asked calmly, not looking at Hoseok. Hoseok swallowed, and nodded,
deciding to take the lead. Who knew the ways clumsy Namjoon may have hurt
himself trying to get down first. Hoseok couldn’t help the flicker of fondness
he felt as he eased himself down to the stone bottom of the break in the Earth.
Namjoon followed Hoseok’s path carefully, four soldiers following with less
care, clambering down in their thin layer of armor.
They had to duck to get into the actual entrance of the cave, as it was tucked
under a jutting bit of stiff, grassy ground. A few soldiers’ heads brushed the
ceiling, and soil rained down in a light dusting, making Hoseok nervous of the
stability of the cave. It became smoother, rock rather than dirt, and deepened,
allowing for a taller ceiling they could stand fully under. It was pitch dark,
the combination of nighttime and the underground, but they had come prepared.
A soldier struck a match, and Hoseok unhooked the small lantern on his belt,
lifting the glass to allow the girl to set it alight. A wider spread of light
came to show footprints in the fine dust and dirt coating the stone underfoot.
Two pairs, and what looked like the dragging of heels, just two mostly solid
lines between the full prints. Hoseok’s eyebrows furrowed, and Namjoon knelt to
inspect them closer.
“New,” he whispered, but even with his low tone, it echoed, making them freeze.
No other sound came, and Hoseok urged Namjoon up to proceed deeper.
It was odd, how the darkness of the cave somehow made the usually warm
lamplight seem chilling. The shadows that stalactites and stalagmites created
were long, and crept along the walls as they passed. Out of the corner of his
eye, it looked too much like people, watching, slinking into their group.
Namjoon, with his own lantern, had taken the lead, but he stopped abruptly,
nearly making Hoseok crash into his back. Instead, the Western king stopped
himself, and moved around the other king’s still form.
Hoseok’s heart plummeted.
It was eerie.
Yoongi was slumped against a long rock, where another body laid, both
terrifyingly still. Yet another was curled into itself near the head of the
person lying down, just out of reach of the light.
Hoseok didn’t want to look closer. He didn’t want to have to confirm his fears.
But Namjoon was still not moving, hardly breathing, and the soldiers wouldn’t
do anything without an order.
He tread lightly to Yoongi first, and crouched in front of the chief, placing
the lantern on the ground beside them. Hoseok hesitated, hands stuttering
awkwardly in their path, but they eventually found their way to Yoongi’s face.
It was ice cold, past being red with rushing blood, just ghastly, making his
tan skin look sallow and almost yellow.
Hoseok’s hands slipped down to the man’s neck, breath trapped somewhere in the
back of his own throat, and felt very carefully where he knew he should have
felt, why didn’t he feel-
Thump.
Weak, so weak, against his fingertips, he felt it. The slow, hibernation-like
beat of Yoongi’s heart. Hoseok slumped a little, but there were still two
others left to check on, making anxiety swirl in his gut like the thick breeze
outside.
“Namjoo-“ Hoseok went to ask for help, and choked on the rest of the name as
Yoongi’s eyes snapped open, the brown slits clouded and delirious. “Yoongi,” he
said instead, and the name was pushed from his lips in a quiet, relieved cloud
of condensation.
Yoongi’s body didn’t move, not even a twitch of muscle where Hoseok was still
holding him, having moved to grasp at thin shoulders beneath far too little
clothing for such weather. The cave was shelter from the wind, yes, but still
felt like a meat locker.
“Can you hear me?”
A hoarse, crackling hum. Yoongi’s eyes slipped closed again. “Hyuna,” he
wheezed, lips barely moving. They were chapped and pale. “Hy-Hypo-H-H-“ Yoongi
tried, but his teeth had begun to chatter in his wakefulness. Hoseok looked
over his shoulder, mouth opening, but Namjoon and their soldiers were already
brushing past to check on the other two- the huddled one being Hyuna. Hoseok
still did not know who was laying on the rock, but Yoongi needed hid attention
more in that moment.
The Western king stripped off his outermost layer, a heavy leather coat with
wool lining all along the inside. He had to physically move Yoongi himself,
bundling him to Hoseok’s chest to get the chief into the garment. As Hoseok was
painstakingly forcing Yoongi’s arms through the sleezes, he nearly dropped the
man’s hand with how frigid his fingers were. Once they appeared out of the
cuff, Hoseok inspected them, and was horrified to find them tipped a dark grey.
“Frostbite,” he murmured. “Check them for frostbite and get the areas covered,”
Hoseok ordered, already removing one of his scarves to wrap Yoongi’s hand in,
tying the ends off. The other was carefully folded into Hoseok’s hat, secured
with his belt. “Can you move?” Hoseok asked urgently, cupping the man’s face
again where his head had lolled back to rest on the rock.
“I- T-Try.”
Hoseok nodded, and gripped Yoongi under the elbows, hauling him upright with a
small grunt of effort. Yoongi fell uselessly against Hoseok for a moment, and
Hoseok’s dread grew. What if his feet are frostbitten? But with a small
scraping noise, Yoongi dragged one boot underneath himself to start supporting
his own weight, then the other. Hoseok still clung to him, feeling the tremble
in the chief’s thighs where they pressed to Hoseok’s.
“Good,” Hoseok soothed, rubbing Yoongi’s back, half in an attempt to keep him
warm, half just to comfort both of them.
“Ji-s-soo,” Yoongi mumbled into Hoseok’s shoulder, and the king could feel his
head trying to turn. Hoseok looked, and felt an odd shock when he saw
Jungkook’s main servant, the one he’d scolded at breakfast, being carried
between two soldiers, limp.
“He’s alive,” Namjoon’s soldier, Sunmi, reported solemnly. “But… barely. Not
for long.”
“We’ll take him up to Minseok, see if there’s anything to be done,” Namjoon
dictated. Hyuna was against his chest, an arm under her knees and behind her
back. The remaining two soldiers took up the lanterns, one taking the front,
the other falling to the back to make sure no one stumbled and got left behind.
Backtracking to the entrance was slow, especially with Yoongi trying
desperately to be strong enough to carry himself with Hoseok’s support. They
had to lift each injured person and pass them off to soldiers waiting on the
grass, then get hauled up themselves. Minseok was already off his horse, and he
immediately knelt where the three people were laid, his elfish face drawn in
worry. “The girl has hypothermia,” Namjoon told him gravely, crouching on the
other side of them. He was a fan of reading up on medical tactics, so he felt
comfortable enough to help Minseok. Hoseok could only watch and bite at his
thumb nail.
Minseok, taken precedent when with patients, began making orders.
~~~
Taehyung’s hair was always incredibly soft. Thick, but still feathery against
the skin. Medium-tone brown, lightened with dyes from the best of the
mountain’s hairdressers. It complimented the deep honey of his skin. His nearly
perfect face looked beautiful in any color, but especially the rich brown.
Taehyung was on the verge of napping, as it seemed, from the gentle scratch of
blunt fingernails through his locks. Seokjin knew he could make the man
practically purr just by doing that.
He knew he probably should have cared more about the meeting that was at hand,
given it had major concerns about Jungkook and his palace.
He hummed in half-assed agreement to something a court member says, and she
must have known he was only half-listening, but didn’t dare say anything about
it.
Seokjin absently carded through Taehyung’s hair a while longer, and the sated
concubine pressed his lips to Seokjin’s thigh through his pants. Soonyoung
entered then, pillow in his arms, and bowed to the court before silently making
his way to Seokjin. Seokjin ignored him, letting the servant bend to help
Taehyung settle on the pillow, more comfortable than the hard flooring.
Curiously, the servant also whispered in Taehyung’s ear, and Taehyung nodded
sleepily against Seokjin’s leg.
Soonyoung bowed once more after standing, and left the room. Seokjin tilted his
head down at Taehyung, allowing the court to talk amongst themselves about the
other kings.
Taehyung sighed, clearly not wanting to move, but leans his neck up as Seokjin
bends his and murmurs, “Jungkook is awake, in the kitchen. Jimin had his way
with him.”
A cold feeling gripped Seokjin for a second, but it passed. Jimin was well-
behaved. He wouldn’t have done more than Seokjin had permitted him.
He nodded, and held Taehyung’s jaw briefly to press a kiss against his lips
before they both drew back so Seokjin could tune into the meeting again.
“We have limited options here. We either use aggression, or-“
“Be on the defensive,” Seokjin inserted, and heads turned to him respectfully.
Their expressions were that of surprise. If the mountain kingdom was known for
anything, it was for always making the first move, always being the offender.
“We’ve had the strongest military for centuries. Now we have the Seaside
warriors who have turned against their chief. Even against the cities, we will
win any battle, and the other kings know that. So we’ll up the patrols, double
the day guards, triple the night watch, turn this palace into the fortress my
ancestors built it to be.”
“But-“
Seokjin’s eyes snapped to the speaker, and quieted them. He smiled, and after
hearing a small moan from Taehyung, released the grip he’d accidentally taken
on the concubine’s hair. “But?” He inquired.
A beat of silence. “Nothing. It will be done. Should we move on to the next
topic?”
“Ah, yes,” Seokjin grimaced. He wasn’t particularly excited to discuss the fate
of Jungkook and his kingdom with his court. “Jungkook.”
Taehyung perked up a little. It was no secret that he, Jimin, and Seokjin
himself had grown fond of Jungkook. Seokjin had slowly found that he wanted to
protect Jungkook- and at that point, that would mean keeping him under
Seokjin’s control. Yoongi would no doubt corrupt the poor boy- he was quite
young, he had to admit, barely past the age of an adult. And if Namjoon and
Hoseok got their hands on the forest king- well, that would mean war on
Seokjin’s kingdom. Despite the mountain’s strength, one against three made for
worse odds. Other than that, Jungkook was simply fun to play with. Beautiful
and young and mysterious. Seokjin wanted to own him, the way he owned Jimin and
Taehyung.
He made this very clear with his court, and as long as it meant containing the
forest king and eventually taking his land as part of Seokjin’s territory, they
didn’t care what he did with Jungkook behind closed doors. Same went for
Taehyung, when Seokjin had taken him as grounds for his alliance with Yoongi,
having been enraptured by the young Seaside warrior. Yoongi wasn’t happy about
it, but Taehyung was eager, and it was agreed that he could be their middle
ground.
However, Taehyung was entirely Seokjin’s then, since the alliance had been
broken. Taehyung had professed his loyalty to the mountain kingdom, as Seokjin
always knew he would. So had most of Yoongi’s people.
“Your Majesty?” A voice called to him, and he shook his memories away.
“We’re not making a move yet. I want Jungkook to agree with me.”
Seokjin could hear a pin drop. Then, timidly, a woman asked, “What?”
“I want his approval. And he will give it. Trust me.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she murmured. “May I ask why?”
Seokjin tucked his fist under his chin, his other hand having taken to playing
with the collar of Taehyung’s robe. “Because he also needs to trust me. This
will be his new home. He will be in my care from now on. I want him to feel
safe and happy. Like my concubines,” he brushed his thumb over Taehyung’s
exposed collarbone, and Taehyung sighed against him.
No one questioned this motive of his. The meeting closed soon after, with more
guards appointed and a schedule fixed. Seokjin didn’t linger to mingle with his
court. He took Taehyung by the hand, and only paused briefly outside the
meeting room doors to kiss him breathless before he was pulling him swiftly
along towards the kitchens.
“Now,” he muttered, “let’s go remind our forest king why he shouldn’t sneak off
to Yoongi again.”
~~~
Jungkook was growing fond of the courtyard and its snowdrops and small cold
streams. There was less snow, but the air was biting. Seokjin seemed natural in
the cold, his nose and cheeks and lips tinted scarlet, his glove-bound fingers
tracing his winter flowers in bloom. He was breathing odd again, but growing up
in the mountains, he must have adapted enough so it wasn’t too bad on him. They
wouldn’t be able to stay out long, however, both for Seokjin’s lungs and for
Jungkook’s freezing form.
He was squished against Taehyung’s side, who was bundled in coats and cloaks
and gave off body heat like a furnace. He was drowsy and laid back, which still
weirded Jungkook out a little, but Seokjin’s presence always did have that odd
feeling to it. Like he could sate Jungkook, put him under a spell, make his
body catatonic and pliant even as his heart beat crescendoed.
Seokjin was a lot. And yet Jungkook still knew so little. He wanted to know
more. He wanted to know it all. The mountain king wasn’t so easily open as his
two lovers. He, unlike them, didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve. He hid it
with his scar, beneath the layers. Jungkook was invested. What more did Seokjin
hold? What made Jimin and Taehyung so fond and loving of this man? What made
Jungkook so inexplicably drawn to his all-consuming presence?
I get to fuck you.
It still sent a thrill through Jungkook’s gut, like the feeling of falling,
twisted yet oddly pleasurable. Seokjin was demanding and domineering, and
Jungkook knew that he himself had always been the opposite. Oppressed and
forced to submission by his father. But Seokjin was different- he wasn’t
dominant in a cruel way. He didn’t make Jungkook feel cold and lonely and
broken. He made Jungkook feel whole again. Like he’d been missing this in his
life. Maybe Jungkook needed someone to be in control. Maybe he just wanted it.
Seokjin finally stopped wandering, and stood before Jungkook. When Seokjin held
out his open palms, Jungkook put forth his own cold hands and let them be
warmed between the other king’s.
“Jungkook,” Seokjin began gently, voice almost lost in his breathlessness.
Jungkook’s heart squeezed in concern. It was an odd feeling. Jungkook had never
had friends or lovers to feel concern over. Even as his father grew sicker, he
was less worried for him and more worried for himself. I was so selfish. And
then, holding Seokjin’s hands, against Taehyung’s side, letting himself fall
into their hands rather than risk himself for his kingdom- I’m still so
selfish. “Why didn’t you tell me, Jungkook?” Seokjin finally asked. Jungkook
was sorry for it, but he was thinking of how he’d rather kiss Seokjin’s full
rosy lips instead of answering. He lowered his head, half in attempt to rid
himself of those thoughts, half to get away from verbally replying. Seokjin
demanded answers to his questions, though. His aura bled authority and
superiority. He spoke again, and Jungkook knew he would obey. “Talk to me,
Jungkook. You don’t have to fear your own voice- not here, not in front of me.”
“I-“ Jungkook wet his lips, but the cold air made them feel immediately dry
again. “I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of your response.”
Seokjin sighed, and took another careful step closer, the dusting of snow
creaking underfoot. “You are your own person, Jungkook. You are a king. I would
not- could not have kept you from going. I just wish I knew so I could have
protected you.”
Jungkook nodded, still staring down at Seokjin’s boots, shiny wet from trudging
through snow. “You protected me anyways.”
“Jimin had to tell me. Because he trusts me.” Seokjin removed the hand overtop
Jungkook’s to brush the forest king’s bangs away a little, then gently guided
his jaw up so they could meet eyes. Seokjin’s thumb stroked gentle warm trails
against Jungkook’s cheek. “I wish you would trust me the same.”
Jungkook jerked a little, and grasped at Seokjin’s wrist to keep his hand
there. His fingers dug in as he said, desperately, “I do.” More than you know.
It was scary, to Jungkook, to admit trust. But he would, for Seokjin. Nothing
has proved that Jungkook shouldn’t. He had only ever been treated kindly and
fairly.
Seokjin must have seen it in Jungkook’s eyes- the fear. It was so plain in his
wavering brown irises, so dark, but flecked with gold. Like a blazing sunset
shifting through the thicket of trees in a forest. Komorebi. It was a word
Seokjin knew from studying Japanese, the language of a land not far from their
island, yet they knew so little about it save for the language.
It had always been odd, to Jungkook, that the kings learned so many ways to
communicate but never did much communicating with the rest of the world.
Jungkook didn’t care. Seokjin didn’t care. Especially not in that moment,
blissfully peaceful, crisp and chilly yet the mood was warm and heavy like a
wool blanket.
“I hope you mean that,” Seokjin finally said, and made to extract his hand, but
Jungkook held tight. Taehyung was watching with heavy eyelids. The atmosphere
had changed, and they’d all felt it. Seokjin made no move to further it.
Taehyung’s chin was heavy where it settled against Jungkook’s shoulder, his
eyes heavier where they watched Jungkook’s lips, as if- as if waiting.
Jungkook’s tongue darted out to wet them again.
“What will happen to my kingdom?”
“I will help you reclaim it when it is safe and smart to.”
“What will happen to me?”
The deep corners of Seokjin’s lips pulled upwards. “As I said, you are your own
person. What do you want to happen to you?”
Jungkook closed his eyes, and breathed. “I want to be king again.”
“You are still king, Jungkook. Your people know that. They won’t abandon you.
You’re different from your father. I’m sure they love you.”
Jungkook felt the warm swell of relief flood through him. He could cry- but he
wouldn’t. He nodded, and nuzzled further into Seokjin’s hand. “Then, for now…
please take care of me.”
“Of course, my forest king.”
Jungkook felt Taehyung smile against his neck. “Like Jiminie took care of you?”
The concubine whispered mischievously, and Jungkook inhaled sharply, eyes
blinking open. “Ooh,” Taehyung hummed, his cold nose pressing further into
Jungkook’s collar, “His heart is racing.”
Seokjin chuckled, and Jungkook released his wrist from his hold. Seokjin ducked
his head, and Jungkook knew Taehyung could feel the way his heart skipped a
beat, but it was just another press of lips to the corner of Jungkook’s.
Jungkook wanted to shift his head, feel it all, but it wasn’t in his nature to
be so bold. It was enough, just to feel that much. He’d already come undone by
Jimin’s hand, and yet what Seokjin did to him always felt more intimate. A slow
build to something Jungkook could not yet even imagine, but it had his stomach
fluttering.
Seokjin remained close, still with that little smile. He looked almost
innocent. Jungkook smiled, too, and Taehyung sighed from his shoulder.
Suddenly, however, the concubine shrieked, shaken from the sleepy stupor he’d
been in all day. Jungkook jumped, stumbling from the stone wall onto his feet,
and wincing when his ankle brace hit the ground. Seokjin caught him before he
could fall, but instead of anger or fear, the mountain king was laughing.
Jungkook’s eyes were wide as the chest he was pressed against shook with the
sound. He turned slowly, and Taehyung’s back was to them, covered in snow. Past
him, behind where they had been sitting, Jimin stood with a ball of snow in his
gloved hand.
With his good arm, Taehyung scooped some snow up for himself, but Jimin’s
second snowball was already sailing towards him, hitting Taehyung in the chest.
Taehyung yelled and staggered back dramatically.
Jimin shuffled over through the snow, and hopped down from the wall, grinning.
“I woke up alone. You all deserved that.”
“You were with Jungkook! Why didn’t you hit him!” Taehyung protested, shaking
the snow from his cloak in a full-bodied movement.
“He’s king. And he was good to me earlier.”
Taehyung pouted. “So was I last night. Seokjin even let me-“
“Taehyung,” Seokjin said in warning, but it was intermixed with amusement. “I’m
sure whatever it is I allowed you to do, Jungkook does not need to hear.”
“Jungkook likes to hear dir-“
“Jimin.”
Jimin threw his hands up in a plea of innocence, but his smirk spoke volumes.
Seokjin hooked his arm around Jimin’s neck and ruffled his hair, shocking
Jungkook and making the concubine struggle and grunt. Seokjin’s smile was broad
and adoring in a way Jungkook had never seen on him. When he finally relaxed
his hold on Jimin, he kissed the shorter man’s forehead before releasing him
fully. It was another extreme side to Seokjin- there was such a cut difference
between every mood the man was in.
As soon as Seokjin was separated, his arm was splashed with a shower of snow,
and he whipped around to face Taehyung, who had looked away to whistle
innocently and gaze at the barren tree branches. Seokjin’s hands lander on his
hips, mouth setting, eyes saying really? “Taehyungie, remember during the
meeting today, where we discussed the strength of my military?”
Taehyung stopped whistling, lips still pursed, and time stood still for the
barest of seconds before the man was diving behind a bush for cover and Seokjin
was gathering snow. Jimin was practically cackling. “Are you really going to
have a snowball fight right now?”
Jungkook cocked his head. “Snowball fight?”
Seokjin paused, hands forming a sphere of snow, and he half-turned to Jungkook
again. “You’ve never had one, Jungkook?”
“I’ve… never heard of one,” the forest king admitted. They’d had snow
occasionally in the forest, yes, but the concept of a snowball fight was new to
him. He’d seen the villagers play games, perhaps that was one? But Jungkook
himself had never taken part. He’d had no one to play in the snow with. Jisoo
was still just a soldier in training, his father seemed not to know what love
and affection was, and his mother- he did not have one to play with. He had no
friends- kings don’t need friends, only allies his father had said- and he had
no fun time- the battlefield is real, not a game, and I won’t let you make
believe otherwise.
“What! How?” Jimin questioned, looking to Seokjin. “Is it a game only the
mountain plays.”
Taehyung poked his head out from behind the bush. “No, I always played it as a
kid.”
Seokjin whipped his snowball at him, and Taehyung screeches, ducking in time so
only his hair is grazed. “Well,” Seokjin said, dusting off his gloves. “I
suppose we’ll just have to show him.”
Jimin was quick to grab Jungkook to be on his team, and Seokjin pretended to
lament at being stuck with Taehyung. Jungkook and Taehyung were considered an
even deal, however, given they both had a handicap. They each hid amongst the
half-bare bushes around the courtyard, preparing piles of snowballs and blindly
launching them at each other’s hideouts. It was slow going at first, each shot
careful and calculated. Taehyung nailed Jimin right in the face on his first
try, and a whoop of celebration came from their end of the yard. Even Jungkook
couldn’t help but laugh at his own teammate, who was spluttering and wiping
wetness from his face. Jungkook avenged him later, through, with a volley of
fast-thrown snow that had Taehyung covering Seokjin and screaming something
about defending my king with my life, go on without me, cough cough.
It was when the stalemate came that Jungkook came up with his plan. He grabbed
Jimin’s good shoulder to get his attention, and whispered, “Sneak attack.”
Jimin’s eyes lit up with excitement, and he nodded. In simple gestures,
Jungkook conveyed that Jimin should make his way from the left to get Seokjin,
and Jungkook to the right to get Taehyung.
“What’s the signal?” Jimin asked, peering around the leaves to check if the
coast was clear. Jungkook held up a hand, his thumb and pointer held together
in a heart. Jimin snickered in amusement, but did it back to confirm before
slipping away to the next closest hiding place.
A snowball landed beside Jungkook, and he crept away from the spot to avoid any
more that may have followed. “Surrender now!” Taehyung cried, another one
falling to the ground behind the bush, but both Jimin and Jungkook had already
moved on to different places.
“Never!” Jimin called back, close enough to their original spot for it to sound
like they hadn’t moved. They circled around the courtyard as quickly and
quietly as possible. Jungkook could feel his sock getting wet, and hoped his
cast was dry in the cloth and plastic they’d wrapped around it.
It didn’t take long for them to get to the far side. Through lines of small
pines, Jungkook could see Seokjin and Taehyung crouched together, heads bent
together. Taehyung was drawing in the snow with a stick and trying to explain
something, and Seokjin was laughing at him, surprisingly high-pitched. Past
them, Jimin’s head appeared for a moment to make eye contact with Jungkook.
Jungkook nodded, and they silently waded through soft snow to get as close as
possible to the others without alerting them. Jungkook had gotten a good few
meters away, Jimin even closer, when Jungkook stuck his hand out and did the
finger heart. The two eased from hiding, still unnoticed, and gained as much
ground in the open as they could before Seokjin was looking up and around.
With a battle cry, Jimin stood straight and charged, Jungkook doing the same
except more hobbling. Taehyung turned, but not fast enough to stop Jungkook,
who tackled him to the snow, mindful of the concubine’s hurt shoulder. Taehyung
was loud, and squirmed like his life depended on it. Jungkook laughed- until he
was thrown off onto stomach. Cold snow caught in the neck of his coat and the
icy burn that took over the skin there had Jungkook gasping. Taehyung flipped
Jungkook over and promptly sat on him, a smug, boxy smile on his face. When
Jungkook looked over, hair getting wet where it brushed the ground, Jimin was
in Seokjin’s lap, an arm barred across his chest, a hand lightly holding his
throat. Seokjin was laughing hard, chest struggling for air. Jungkook almost
didn’t mind defeat, seeing how joyous the other king and Taehyung were.
“You tried,” Taehyung teased, leaning down and brushing his nose with
Jungkook’s in a butterfly kiss. Jungkook scrunched his nose, and Taehyung
grinned. “Our Jungkook is so cute.” Jungkook wriggled, pouting in a way he knew
was childish. He shivered when he felt snow stuck inside his shirt, except they
were simply cold drops against his skin by then. Taehyung rolled off of him and
offered a hand up, which Jungkook accepted. “Why don’t we go inside and get
warm?”
Seokjin agreed, letting Jimin up and dusting himself off. They were all soaked
to the skin, the cold finally sinking in with the excitement of their little
game gone. “I’ll have Mingyu make hot chocolate.”
Jungkook’s mouth practically began to water. He hadn’t had hot chocolate since
he was really young. Taehyung seemed to share his anticipation. “Mingyu makes
the best hot chocolate,” he assured Jungkook, and considering his tasty meal
from earlier, Jungkook was privy to believe Taehyung.
~~~
Mingyu was quick with the hot chocolate, Soonyoung delivering it to Seokjin’s
room where they all had began stripping off layers of heavy, wet clothing.
Despite the heat in the castle, Jungkook couldn’t shake the bone-deep chill
he’d acquired. It seemed wrong to take items off while being so cold, but he
knew it was for the better. When Soonyoung entered, he stopped short at the
sight of them all. Then his eyes landed on Jungkook, finally down to just a
shirt and pants, and had to physically hold himself back from bursting into
laughter.
Soonyoung shook with the effort of it as he put the tray of hot chocolate on a
side table beneath a mirror- and that was how Jungkook caught sight of why. His
white shirt was sticking to every curve of his body, gone translucent from
moisture. They could see everything: the smallness of his waist, the ridges of
his muscle, and oh the bruises, all of Jimin’s bruises.
Jungkook folded his arms over his chest and turned away from the mirror, only
to find Taehyung and Jimin silently giggling and Seokjin smirking in amusement.
Jungkook felt his face color in a blush. He felt betrayed by his cold body- why
could only his cheeks grow warm?
Soonyoung bowed before scurrying from the room, snorting and covering his face
with his tray.
“Ah, that Soonyoung. What a troublemaker,” Seokjin tsked, but it was vaguely
fond.
“I like him,” Jungkook spoke decidedly, though quietly. Seokjin looked back to
Jungkook, who curled further in on himself in a futile attempt to hide the way
his shirt clung to him.
Seokjin laughed. “Just take it off, Jungkook. We have no shame.”
“Not in this bedroom, at least,” Jimin commented slyly, already peeling his own
shirt off. Taehyung was on the floor by then, struggling with his pants.
Seokjin sighed, and stood from his overly large, black sheeted bed to pull at
the ankles of Taehyung’s trousers.
“Jimin, go put a bath on,” Seokjin ordered, and began wrestling Taehyung out of
his sweater, which had constricted and gone heavy.
Jungkook’s arms slowly fell from his body, and he gazed down at himself for a
brief moment. His heart was doing that weird thing again, where it flipped and
raged in his chest. It was stupid to feel that way, he knew. He wasn’t supposed
to have that trepidation any more as he undressed in front of the others. He
was always fine, social bathing, but once he’d started feeling things for them-
and then it was worse once Jimin acted on those feeling. He felt like he was
open to be looked at and touched just because he’d allowed Jimin to. It felt
like he would have no say any more, and there would be intimacy even when he
didn’t want it. It made his hands shake at the band of his pants, hesitant.
“Jungkook?”
Jungkook flinched, and lifted his head. Seokjin was watching, sat on his bed
again. His and Taehyung’s bodies were exposed, save for their underwear, and
they both aimed tilted heads at the forest king.
“Are you okay?”
Jungkook nodded quickly, and undid his pants, feigning calm. It felt worse, in
just his undergarments, but he ignored it. His stomach was tight with something
akin to fear, but not quite so wretched. Seokjin’s eyebrows were slanted with
concern.
“Are you really afraid of me, Jungkook?” Seokjin asked gently. Jungkook didn’t
know how to respond. He didn’t know the answer. He feared intimacy, and losing
himself, and losing control. All things Seokjin seemed to want. Seokjin’s
sexual energy screamed give yourself to me, give me power over you. Jungkook
wanted to, and he supposed that was the most terrifying part. He was clinging
to whatever small piece of himself that wanted to hold back.
“No,” Jungkook finally decided. It was ridiculous. It was a result of his past,
and he hated that. He couldn’t elaborate for Seokjin, but the other king didn’t
ask.
Jimin appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. “It’s filling up,” he reported,
and the ease in his body seemed to draw the tension from Jungkook’s. He wore
Jungkook’s marks without fear or horror at what they’d done. They were much
more meager than the ones Jungkook had on himself, but it was all the same in
the eyes of Taehyung and Seokjin. Nothing in the atmosphere hinted at sexual
tension. It was relaxed. They were all tired. They’re not incubi trying to
consume you, Jungkook reminded himself. He felt shame. It showed.
“Let’s take good care of Jungkookie,” Taehyung insisted in a small voice.
Jimin made a noise of agreement. “We want you to be happy.”
Seokjin rose from the bed to stand at Jungkook’s side. A thin hand slipped in
his, fingers lacing through Jungkook’s. Jungkook felt… young. Small. Like he
always did around Seokjin. It was good to feel that way sometimes, he
discovered. The idea of it was scary, but that- it reminded him that it didn’t
have to be scary among those three men. He felt like his mind was doing
backflips trying to keep up with the series of feelings and emotions that
travel through Jungkook each minute. Like the wind, only stopping to change
direction. I’m so young. I know so little. I was raised all wrong. I’m a ruin.
When Jungkook was taken into the bathroom, he found that the bath was even
larger than Taehyung’s. The walls were a dark grey, the entirety of the room a
soothing monochrome with accents of rich red towels and cherrywood cabinets.
The light was off, Jimin having decided that a sleepy candle lit atmosphere was
appropriate. The candles were a dark green color, and Jungkook was struck when
he got a waft of it. It smelled like- home. Not the Jeon palace, but the
forest. It smelled like a summer rain, bringing out the scents of the soil and
wood and sap. Jimin saw Jungkook as he froze, and smiled shyly.
“Is it too much?”
Jungkook shook his head numbly. It was wonderful. His lips were quivering and
his sinuses had that telltale sharp pain. He was going to cry, like a weak
little baby. He couldn’t even help it. His chest was tight and his eyes were
moistening. He turned his head down, sliding off the rest of his clothing and
easing into the steaming water. It was more flowery, the water clear but tinted
a more artificial blue. Jungkook sank in low, the heat sinking into his skin,
loosening the muscles of his shoulders and neck. He tilted his head back. There
were tears clinging to the corners of his eyes that he wanted to blink away,
but when he tried, it only made them fall in perfect fat drops down his cheeks.
Taehyung, decidedly clingy that day, latched onto Jungkook’s side and assumed a
similar position to the one they sat in at the courtyard. “Don’t be sad,
Jungkook,” he whispered. Jungkook blinked rapidly at the ceiling. A soapy cloth
touched Jungkook’s shoulder. Seokjin. He’d come to Jungkook’s other side to
bathe him, gently lathering the soft cloth over where Jungkook’s skin was above
the water. Jungkook sat up when he was told to, sat lower when he was told to,
leaned against Seokjin’s chest when he was told to. His head rested on
Seokjin’s shoulder as the king’s hands worked against his shoulders, massaging
them. His eyes were heavy, too much so to remain open, but he felt Jimin’s
solid, muscular body on one side and Taehyung’s softer, leaner body curl into
the other.
Jungkook couldn’t even think. He wasn’t sad- he was homesick. He liked being
held as he was, between three bodies. It was a position he never would have
imagined himself in- especially since they were all men. It was indulgent and
pleasant. He felt his walls crumbling every second he spent in their arms.
They couldn’t stay in the bath much longer. The water was getting uncomfortably
lukewarm, their fingertips wrinkling, the steam getting to their heads.
Jungkook wasn’t quite sure how he got out- Seokjin must have lifted him,
because he was boneless for the time being. He was dried and pampered with
fruity lotions and fluffy towels. The smell of the candles overcame him again
as Taehyung blew them out, but he was taken from the room in Seokjin’s arms,
wrapped in a silky robe like the ones he’d seen each concubine wear. The
material was just as nice all over his skin as it was to the simple touch of
his hands.
He felt himself laid down on a plush mattress. Seokjin’s, no doubt, with enough
room for each of them to fit comfortably. He slanted his eyes open. He was on
his back, but he could hear Seokjin was still moving around the room somewhere.
Jimin was already nuzzled into the pillows beside Jungkook. Taehyung must have
been the weight towards Jungkook’s feet. He was speaking softly, so quiet that
Jungkook couldn’t hear the words he spoke, but he ended it with amen.
Jungkook’s breath caught. He hadn’t thought about God or the angels in a long
time- since his father passed away. He sat up groggily. Everything was still
hazy. His eyes were itching with dried tears. Taehyung looked up the bed at
him, almost like he was embarrassed. Praying is for the common people. Who
said, though? Who said any of what King Jeon told Jungkook? Their ancestors.
All so conservative. High and mighty, even long after they were gone.
Jungkook reached out for Taehyung, and the man complied, crawling up and
burying his face into Jungkook’s chest, pushing the king’s body back onto the
bed. He was heavy where he laid over Jungkook, but comforting. Jungkook hooked
an arm around his back, feeling the bones of Taehyung’s spine beneath his
fingers, delicate and beautiful. When the last of the lights were turned off,
Seokjin slid into bed on Jimin’s side. Jungkook had never felt so full of…
perhaps not love, but affection at the least. It was overwhelming.
Jungkook hugged Taehyung tighter, and the concubine pressed a discrete kiss to
the forest king’s sternum. Jungkook tucked his nose into Taehyung’s soft hair.
A hand found his. He couldn’t tell whose, but it didn’t matter, because it
squeezed tight and didn’t let go.
I can be happy here.
~~~
A tapping on the window.
Mingyu’s heart leapt as he looked towards the darkened pane. He was alone, in
storage, looking for more honey. The storage window faced the steeper side of
the mountain. No one should have been able to-
The tapping came again.
Mingyu, resigned to his fate, put down the jar of honey and cautiously
approached the window. The sliver of the moon did nothing to illuminate the
outside world. Gripping the bottom of the window, he paused, wondering if he
really was about to open it when he knew damn well that Seokjin and his kingdom
had many enemies, especially as of late.
He pressed his lips together.
A gust of bitter wind had Mingyu stepping back as soon as the glass had been
lifted, shuddering. A familiar form was lounging on the outside ledge, the
picture of suave surrealism- until he also shivered and forced himself through
the window.
“Fuck, it’s cold up here,” the man grouches, slamming the window shut behind
him. He slipped off a snowy cloak and shook it out before laying it over his
arm. Mingyu was stuck in place, dumbfounded, watching the man. Finally, he
looked up from messing with his cloak, and raised an eyebrow. “What, no
welcome?”
“Wonwoo,” Mingyu breathed, and took another timid step back.
Wonwoo’s mouth quirked up. “Miss me, brother?”
Chapter End Notes
     me: gives away some clues finally
     also me: introduces SVT subplot (that I might do mini spinoffs for
     when I finish this)
     Anyways, feedback is always helpful and appreciated! I love reading
     and responding :)
     (PS I hate writing sappy fun times so that snowball fight scene had
     to be as quick and painless as possible for me, I'm sorry if you
     wanted more to that- also, prepare yourself for the next chapter,
     wink)
     ~MC
***** Watch Me Fall Apart All For You *****
Chapter Notes
     Rated E, for... Expect Smut :)
     Title from Six Billion by Nothing But Thieves.
     Also! PSA! Hixtape is f i r e, go listen to it and give our Hobs some
     love ! ! ! I can’t stop listening to Daydream, and I ain’t even mad
     about it.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Wonwoo’s long fingers wrapped delicately around the steaming mug of tea, the
man reveling in the heat it alloted his frozen hands. Mingyu sat on the lone
stool, chin tucked into his hand, mouth set in deep concern at the situation at
hand. His leg was bouncing incessantly, causing the dark surface of their
drinks to waver. Wonwoo was wholly unbothered- as he always was.
“So,” Mingyu finally began, and Wonwoo gave him an unimpressed eyebrow raise,
“What brings you here?”
“I’m choosing sides.” Wonwoo took a sip, and winced as his tongue was scalded.
Mingyu nodded slowly. All his movements had been half-paced ever since Wonwoo
crawled in through the window, as if the man would attack him at the drop of a
hat. It wasn’t totally unrealistic. “Have you?”
Mingyu didn’t know how to answer that. He’d taken King Seokjin’s offer to be a
chef on a whim because it sounded easy and the thought of not eating seafood
for every meal any more seemed pretty great. He’d also slept with every woman
at Seaside at least once, some more, and things were getting kind of awkward-
especially when he’d started working through the men.
“I mean, I’m already here,” Mingyu reasoned, shrugging helplessly. He didn’t
want to abandon his Chief, per se, but he was practically clueless as to what
was happening and after seeing small, young King Jungkook trusting King Seokjin
so openly, he felt a little biased.
“I suppose this means I can throw away that silly brother shit,” Wonwoo
pondered, and Mingyu sighed a little. He liked the closeness Seaside had- or,
had once had before the alliance started. He liked calling his older friends
brother, and liked to hear it back. He liked Chief Yoongi, at least the last
he’d seen of the man.
Mingyu simply shrugged again. He’d gone still, and Wonwoo noticed. Wonwoo
leaned onto the tables with his elbows, and Mingyu bit the inside of his cheek
at the proximity, not looking up from his tea.
“You don’t have to choose this side,” Wonwoo reminded him, rather serenely, and
Mingyu had to lean back to furrow his brows at him. Wonwoo smirked. Mingyu
couldn’t tell if he liked that or not. Probably not. Maybe.
“I can’t just- leave,” Mingyu stuttered, and Wonwoo snickered.
“Why not? I just arrived.”
Mingyu nodded. He had a point. “So much for extra vigilant defense.”
Wonwoo waved a hand flippantly. “They know me. They know you. All I had to do
was sweet talk them about why I came in through the back.”
Sounded like Mingyu when his old flames had gasped at his newfound homosexual
relations. “And?”
“Said the Chief had people after me. Told them to keep their eyes peeled. That
distracted them well enough.”
“You’re…” Mingyu started, and Wonwoo’s smirk was back, now with the added lilt
of his eyebrows. Mingyu swallowed. “I don’t know. Why did you choose to leave?”
“This is my original home,” Wonwoo said, looking around with familiarity.
Mingyu often forgot that. Wonwoo probably knew these halls better than Mingyu.
The reason they’d gotten to know each other well enough to have been chatting
like that was because Wonwoo left months after Mingyu arrived, and Wonwoo had
taken an odd interest in all of the Seaside exchanges. It also didn’t hurt that
Mingyu stress baked often, and Wonwoo would stop by conveniently when he did.
“Besides, Chief Yoongi wasn’t all he was chalked up to be. He wasn’t some war
god. He never punished people more than throwing their asses in jail or exiling
them.”
“He was mostly a no-nonsense leader,” Mingyu explained, fiddling with his tea
steeper. The water was no doubt grossly oversaturated by then. “He was fair.”
Wonwoo scoffed. “King Seokjin is fair,” he fixed, “Rather than a pushover.”
Mingyu didn’t need to sit there and defend the chief, but he had an odd want to
do so. “He’s not- Listen, I’m just saying, it’s different. I don’t think it’s
appropriate to compare, given the difference in relationships each ruler has to
their people. If you look at it that way, both of them are fair.”
Wonwoo, again, waved his hand noncommittally. “Whatever. So, whose side are you
on, then?”
No one’s, Mingyu wanted to say, but knew it wasn’t acceptable. Neutrality in
what was the beginning of a war would only get him killed or locked away,
especially in Seokjin’s kingdom. Mingyu opened his mouth, but found he couldn’t
find an answer.
Wonwoo leaned closer, but Mingyu hardly cared, mind reeling. “Oh, but before
you decide- perhaps you should know that your Chief has fled.”
Mingyu jolted. When his gaze met Wonwoo’s, they were close. Wonwoo’s eyes were
impossibly dark and calm, like an eerily still sea. “What?” Mingyu said numbly.
Wonwoo spread his hands, the backs brushing the metal of the table. “Exactly
what I said. He fled, with that bitch who covers her face and one of my
prisoners. An important prisoner,” Wonwoo adds in annoyance.
Mingyu sat back again, putting distance between himself and Wonwoo. “And the
rest of his people? He wouldn’t abandon us- them.”
“He didn’t have to.”
Mingyu’s stomach dropped. They abandoned him. “What happened?” Mingyu murmured.
“Chief changed his mind on matters pretty suddenly. His people were a little
mad, but they heard him out. It was Taehyung who got to them in the end.”
Mingyu frowned. “Taehyung?”
“He’s been stopping by the past few weeks. Hyuna tried to change his mind, too,
but Chief Yoongi knew he’d begun leaning towards Seokjin. It was major
betrayal, and everyone was shocked- but encouraged. Word spreads fast in small
communities, and most people will side with their ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters.’ One
person against the Chief doubled, then doubled again. It was mostly the fault
of bad rumors and the fact that Seokjin’s men took the opportunity to advertise
their king. The rest is history, now. Who knows where Chief Yoongi is. Many
suspect dead.”
Mingyu didn’t know how to feel about that. No- he knew exactly how to feel
about that, he just didn’t want to. It was sickening, imagining the man he’d
always looked up to just- gone. It seemed too sudden to hear. Surreal. “I’m
sure he-“
“Yeah, he probably is alive,” Wonwoo amended, and Mingyu felt a little better.
“He was planning something with the other kings, kept having Hyuna running
around with messages.” Wonwoo sighed, leaning further into the table, his cheek
against his fist so he was angled towards Mingyu. “Aren’t you sick of the
secrets? The lies?”
“Every ruler has them,” Mingyu muttered- but yes, he was. He may have just been
a chef, lost to the politics going on, but maybe he wouldn’t be so lost if the
whole palace wasn’t full of hushed whispers and closed meetings. But- “I say,
I’m on King Jungkook’s side.”
Wonwoo openly laughed, which was odd, to say the least. “Do you know anything
about what’s been going on, Mingyu? King Jungkook is like a child. He’ll be on
anyone’s side who treats him with kindness. That’s probably why he didn’t take
to Chief Yoongi, he probably approached him too roughly. I heard he shot his
friend just to send a message.”
Mingyu remembered that- Jimin getting an arrow to the shoulder. He didn’t know
that was the Chief’s doing. If he was honest, he had thought it was Seokjin,
sending people in secret to try and prevent Jungkook from leaving. It seemed
ridiculous to think, in retrospect. It was what most servants thought, though.
“Maybe that’s the right way to do it, though,” Mingyu mused. “Especially as
someone in the background like me. I’ll go wherever I’m safe and wanted.”
“Well, right now, that’s here,” Wonwoo deadpanned. “I’m sure Chief Yoongi would
love an ally- but if you think he can protect you right now, you’re dead wrong.
He can’t even protect himself, he was chased out of his own domain.”
“What about King Hoseok and King Namjoon? What do you think they’re doing
about- all this?” Mingyu gestured vaguely. All this was way too over his head
to summarize any other way.
“Like I said, Chief had been planning something with them, but I don’t know how
much or what exactly. They haven’t done shit so far, that’s for sure. Backing
down at the last second the night of the attack-“ Wonwoo cut off with a grunt
of distaste. Mingyu hummed, not really in agreement or disagreement, but Wonwoo
could take it as he pleased. They lounged in silence for a long minute. Then,
in a very Wonwoo fashion: “You feeling stressed yet?”
“Oh yeah,” Mingyu nodded, hands having been clenching and unclenching around
his mug.
“Got any cookie dough?”
“Oh yeah,” Mingyu repeated, already on his feet to get the oven started.
Wonwoo stole Mingyu’s stool with a self-satisfied grin.
~~~
For the first time since Jungkook escaped his castle, he felt human again.
Taehyung had helped him dress in a simple black and white striped button up,
black pants with a wrapped waist, and his own boots- cleaned and shined. Jimin
had meticulously put makeup on him, just minimal products to even his
complexion and bring color to his face, bolden his eyes with a dark brown
shadow that hugged his lash line. It was subtle, but Jungkook noticed and
appreciated the difference he saw in the mirror. His hair was clean from the
night before, brushed into place and slightly curly from sleeping on it while
it dried.
They met Seokjin in the space outside their three rooms. Seokjin was dressed
similarly sharp, a silky maroon shirt tucked into high black pants, making his
legs appear even longer. Jungkook could detect traces of makeup on his
impeccable face, as well. Makeup wasn’t very popular in the forest, but he’d
found through witnessing countless of Jimin’s smoldering smokey eyes and
Taehyung’s soft natural looks that it was widely used and accepted in the
mountains.
“Did you lighten your hair just now?” Jimin asked, latching onto the small
detail. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that he had, his previous chestnut
locks now laced through with gradual lighter tones.
Seokjin carefully touched his fringe. “I did. Do you like it?”
The question was aimed at all of them, but Seokjin’s cool gaze had landed on
Jungkook, who nodded shyly. He’d been very quiet the past few days, and no one
was stopping him from his silence. He was scared of messing up again.
“It looks really good,” Taehyung complimented, beaming, and Seokjin tilted his
chin up a little in confidence. “We should dye Jungkook’s hair, something crazy
like purple.” Seokjin’s expression quickly turned doubtful, and when he shared
a look with Jungkook over Taehyung’s shoulder, Jungkook slowly shook his head.
Seokjin’s smile turned secretive.
Seokjin cleared his throat, and gestured towards the stairs. “I believe we have
more important matters.”
Taehyung’s face slowly fell from its excitable state. “Oh, the Spring
Festival,” He lamented, then eyed Jungkook and Seokjin up and down. “Is that
why we got you all pretty? I can’t even play with pretty Jungkook? This is for
other people?”
Seokjin cocked his head, teeth worrying his bottom lip for a moment. “It is a
shame, isn’t it?” Jungkook could practically feel the way all of them were
looking at him, raking their eyes over his form like he was a meal for them to
devour. He practically was, the way he was so willing to give himself to them.
He knew he sank into their seductive presence far too quickly and easily; it
was concerning, even to himself. What was even more terrifying, he didn’t know
how to stop himself, how to find the will to, the want to. Seokjin smirked.
“What are you thinking about, Jungkook?”
Jungkook shifted on his crutches, face coloring. He could only hope his makeup
covered the worst of his blushing. Taehyung shuffled up behind him, pressing
his front along Jungkook’s back and hooking his chin over the king’s shoulder.
“You know what I’m thinking?” Taehyung prompted. Jungkook turned his head,
eyebrows drawing in questioningly. Taehyung’s arm, the one free of a sling,
snaked around Jungkook’s body and held out an object to Jimin. Jimin must have
been in on whatever Taehyung had planned, because he stepped right forward and
used his able hands to fasten the item around Jungkook’s throat.
Jungkook’s fingers trailed up to feel the soft strip of velvet as Jimin secured
the back. It was a plain choker, about two centimeters thick. When Jimin
stepped to the side, Seokjin’s gaze grew darker, heavier. Taehyung made a
small, deep noise bordering on a purr and reached up, brushing Jungkook’s hand
away to slip a finger between the material and the side of the king’s throat,
where his pulse stuttered. The action tightened the rest of the fabric, making
Jungkook’s breath catch.
Seokjin hummed lowly, stepping forward, nearly silent on the carpet. “You test
me,” he murmured, eyes uncertain which person of interest to fall on. “All of
you.”
Taehyung’s nose pressed into the divet of Jungkook’s collarbone, his hooded
eyes peering up through his lashes at Seokjin. “You haven’t even kissed our
pretty Jungkook properly yet.”
Seokjin’s tongue played at the corner of his mouth, until it twisted into a
smirk. “All in due time,” the mountain king assured his concubine coolly. “I
want him desperate for it. Begging for me.”
Jungkook’s knees suddenly felt weak. He wanted to fervently blame it on his
injury, but there was no denying the migration of monarchs happening in his
gut. It was a power play, talking about Jungkook like that as if he weren’t
less than a meter away.
Taehyung cooed in interest and delight. “Seokjin,” he asked, pressing even
closer to Jungkook, “if I’m good can I play with Jungkook after the festival?”
Seokjin chuckled, and swept his hand in Jungkook’s direction. “That’s not up to
me.”
Jungkook left that without a response, and Taehyung knew it was a silent
acceptance. They descended the stairs to the ground floor of the palace,
Seokjin stopping them halfway to carry Jungkook, as he was struggling with his
crutches. He had squeaked, when suddenly his feet were swept from below
himself, his hands finding and grasping at broad shoulders. Without so much as
a pause, Jimin had taken the crutches to carry and Seokjin had continued
walking, forcing Jungkook to hold on and press close. It was nerve-wracking, to
be suspended in someone’s arms on a steep staircase, but Seokjin’s strong grip
kept him perfectly safe.
When Jungkook was released at the landing, Seokjin smoothed out his clothes for
him and commented, “You’re light as a feather,” as if there was an underlying
idea brewing behind the statement. Jimin looked as if he knew exactly what that
idea was.
Before stepping away, Seokjin touched Jungkook’s choker gently, running his
thumb over the material and, consequently, Jungkook’s windpipe with just a hint
of pressure. Jungkook’s lips parted, as if he wanted to say something- but what
could he? His head was filled with too much noise to pick out something
coherent to verbalize, and even if he could, he was sure it would be incredibly
inappropriate. Seokjin was gone before Jungkook could even breathe again,
instead hooking a finger through Taehyung’s belt loop to drag the younger man
with him. Jungkook was only allowed a second of immobile bewilderment before
Jimin was handing back his crutches and urging him to follow.
In just the past few hours, Jungkook had learned from Jimin that the Spring
Festival was held every year in the ballroom. Jungkook hadn’t even known
Seokjin had a ballroom, but he was excited to see it. Everyone in the kingdom
was invited, but it was more likely to see the upper class attending, the women
in their prettiest dresses and the men in their best tailored attire. It was a
celebration of the coming growing season, in which they’d finally have soft
soil, rain instead of snow, and longer hours of sunlight. It wasn’t exactly
like that, given that the mountain top was fairly cold all year. It took late
into springtime for people to begin planting, but they still celebrated,
because it was their best excuse to meet with the king, drink palace champagne,
and make bets on how much longer the snow season would last. Jimin had already
shared his predictions, sighing that he had a bad feeling it would drag on that
year. Jungkook had no particular intuition, being so new to such climates.
The ballroom was near the back of the castle, just like Jungkook’s. Where
Jungkook’s ballroom windows overlooked a large, green yard with trees and a
sloping hill, Seokjin’s was faced towards the cliff edge, where it dropped off
immediately at what had to be close to a perfect ninety degrees. No one else
had arrived yet- they were all made to wait outside the large doors of the
ballroom, while Seokjin was allowed in early through a side entrance. Jungkook
left the others in favor of walking to the windows in twisted wonder, his chest
growing tight as he was faced with the terrifying drop-off. It was a clear
enough day that he could see the pine trees below, looking like tiny, jagged
blades of grass from such a height. He couldn’t decide whether the churning in
his stomach was from homesickness or fear of the fall.
A hand at his waist made him jump, a gasp ripping from his throat, and he heard
the deep telltale laughter of Taehyung behind him. He released his breath
shakily through his nose, and glanced over his shoulder with narrow eyes.
Taehyung came to stand beside Jungkook, leaning against the glass, and
Jungkook’s heart leapt for a moment at the sight of how casually he did so. It
looked like he was leaning into nothing, the windows were so beautifully clean.
Taehyung gazed down at the forest below the cliff, squinting comically. Then he
smiled, and it was cheeky in a way Jungkook knew meant trouble. When he lifted
his eyes to Jungkook’s, Taehyung said, the picture of indifference, “I’ve been
fucked while seeing this view.” He pointed blindly towards the trees. “You were
probably in your little castle, no idea that I was up here, falling apart to
the sight of the pretty forest and the touch of Seokjin’s hands. Among other
body parts.”
Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh, imaging himself so oblivious, most likely
holed up in his room. It would have been so lewd of him, so outrageous, to be
thinking of anything like what Taehyung described. It reminded Jungkook of how,
just weeks ago- no, had it been a month?- he was even more virginal and naive.
Up until he’d met Taehyung- the first time, as a wanderer- he’d been certain
loving another man was sin. Taehyung had been the one to soften him to the idea
that it wasn’t so black and white, it was normal, it was okay. He’d kissed
Jungkook, and it had felt so natural that Jungkook knew then that he’d been fed
lies about homosexuality his whole life.
Taehyung seemed mildly disappointed that he hadn’t gotten a more embarrassed
reaction from Jungkook- instead, the forest king was smiling softly,
reminiscent. Taehyung rested his head against the window, tilting it to see
Jungkook’s face better while the younger man looked through the glass. “That
Jungkook would have been appalled,” Jungkook admitted, surprising Taehyung with
his words.
“And this Jungkook?”
Jungkook turned his face away, hiding his affected expression. “This Jungkook
would have wanted to watch you fall apart.”
He caught Taehyung’s smirk out of the corner of his eye. “You awe me, every
time you speak,” Taehyung whispered lowly, a warm affection in his tone.
Jungkook knew Taehyung was wrong- he still strongly believed that when he
talked, it was like the butterfly effect, almost always causing destruction
farther down the line. But he appreciated it, what Taehyung said. He allowed
himself accept it for the moment.
Jungkook turned, taking the time to appreciate the interior view. Taehyung
looked with him, and bounced a little in anticipation. The ballroom, while
lovely in itself with pale open floors made of smooth, cream marble and walls
painted a pale peachy pink, it was decorated to perfection. Paper lanterns with
minimalist painted designs hung from the high, curved ceiling in the varying
pastel colors of spring, strings of tiny, off-white lights running between
them. Tables with clean white clothes held a plethora of plates and foods
almost as pretty as the decor itself. Flowers, what was grown in greenhouses
year-round, were arranged wherever they could be: as centerpieces, between
platters, bunched in hanging baskets in the corners of the room, arranged on
the back of two chairs clearly meant for Seokjin and Jungkook. While there were
plenty of tables, including the long one for the kings, the concubines, and the
courtsmen, there was still a large, open space meant for dancing. Against
another wall, a raised platform held rows of chairs where musicians prepared
for a night of endless playing.
It was nothing like Jungkook had ever seen before. King Jeon never held many
events, certainly none so extravagant. He had held their people at arm’s length
at all times, as if he didn’t trust them. It made Jungkook a little sick to
think about. Jungkook wished, even in the short week after he’d been coronated,
that he’d met more of the forest people. He wish he knew them personally. If it
were possible, he’d want to know all their names, all their kids’ names, if
they had pets, their professions, what they wanted from their government, how
they felt about Jungkook’s ideas.
As the mountain folk trickled in through the doors, opened wide for them once
everything was in place, it felt vaguely wrong that he got to meet and interact
with them rather than his own citizens. They were nice and gentle people, but
their skin was cold and their hearts weren’t devoted to him. They hardly cared
he was there.
It made him feel better, watching them interact with Seokjin, however. Seokjin
kept them at a distance, and kept himself poised in a manner that hid his
personality under that of a ruler, but Jungkook could sense the strong loyalty
between them. He would ask certain people how their business was going, or if
their sick cousin was any better, or if they’d found their lost dog.
Jungkook merrily watched, Taehyung always clinging to him. There had been some
unspoken rule that Jimin would stay with Seokjin, and Taehyung with Jungkook.
Not that Jungkook minded. He not only liked Taehyung’s company, but it also
meant he was never alone amongst the crowd of people he didn’t know. People
seemed wary to approach him, naturally- all except for one old woman, dressed
beautifully in black and gold, who hobbled towards him and bowed as much as her
aged body could.
“Oh, King Jungkook,” she greeted him, offering her hands. Jungkook took them
gently, and she squeezed his fingers. “It’s wonderful to meet you. I wish you
and your kingdom the best.”
Jungkook nodded gratefully, allowing a smile. “Thank you.”
“And Taehyung!” She released Jungkook, and Taehyung blushed before ducking to
briefly hug the woman. She gripped his shoulders to hold him apart, looking at
him. “Have you been eating well? Sleeping well? How is my dear Jimin?”
“I’m fine, grams,” Taehyung assured her, and he was clearly embarrassed, but
Jungkook was absolutely endeared by their interactions. “Jimin is good, too.
Aren’t you curious about your grandson?”
The woman made a dismissive noise. “He’s too busy running his kingdom to visit
old grams anymore,” she tsked, shaking her head and gazing in Seokjin’s
direction. “He did come for his parents’ memorial, at least.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened. Looking closer, he could tell, he just hadn’t paid
enough attention to notice. It was Seokjin’s grandmother, a Queen Kim of the
past. She pat Taehyung’s arm again, muttering an eat more food, dear before
shuffling away towards Jimin, who had wandered not too far from Seokjin to get
champagne. Taehyung also watched, and said, “Jiminie has the right idea.” The
next time a servant passed- it just so having happened to be Hyojin- and
suddenly a flute of bubbling golden liquid was being pushed into Jungkook’s
hand.
Jungkook eyed it skeptically. He knew very well that he was a lightweight-
Soonyoung, Chan, Hansol, and Seungkwan could attest to that. He also knew he
had an odd taste for champagne, and could easily drink glass after glass of it.
All of these things, in his mind, were screaming bad idea, but-
“Come on, Jungkook,” Taehyung urged, sipping his own daintily. He looked like
it was relieving once he’d swallowed some. “The only one who has to be sober
tonight is Seokjin.”
“I get… chatty when I drink,” Jungkook admitted in a small voice, and Taehyung
looked way too happy to hear that. Jungkook had only dug himself deeper.
Sighing, he took his first drink. It was nice, the warmth that slid down his
throat to his stomach, where it felt very present for some reason. Jungkook
couldn’t help but look to Jimin again, one of his two glasses already gone,
starting on the second. When he noticed Jungkook, he winked, lips curling
upwards.
I can’t believe I’m ignoring the fact that I just met grandma Kim in favor of
drinking, Jungkook thought, mentally shaking his head at himself. He tipped the
rest of the flute’s contents into his mouth. They really weren’t large
portions. He’d grab one more, when someone passed. Just one.
~~~
Taehyung’s grin was wicked.
“And then he touched me, oh when he touched me-“ Jungkook sighed loudly,
leaning heavily against Taehyung’s good side. He’d been recounting his sexual
misadventure with Jimin, but suddenly, his mind was too clouded and too in the
gutter to continue. He pushed more heavily into Taehyung, tilting his head to
whisper at the man’s ear, “It would not be good to get hard in these pants.” It
was a fair point; they were quite form-fitting and soft material like slacks.
Taehyung was nearly shaking with how pleased he was at Jungkook’s behavior.
Jimin had ditched the unspoken buddy system, but Seokjin didn’t seem to care.
Other than a few vaguely jealous looks, the mountain king appeared otherwise
pleased at the state the three were in, all lusty and giggly. It was getting
late, the sun having set through the large windows long ago. It had been so
beautiful, most guests had stopped for a moment to eat meals and stare into it.
Once the dark sky had consumed the outside world, however, it was back to the
humdrum of chattering and the sweet, faint crooning of violins and violas and
cellos. The lights had started blurring together in a pretty halo above
everyone’s heads in Jungkook’s inebriated eyes. Taehyung and Jimin were dewy
from the warmth of the room and the natural heat of so many bodies, and the
light reflected off of highlighted cheekbones and noses and cupid’s bows. They
looked ethereally pretty to Jungkook.
He thought maybe he mumbled that out loud by accident, because suddenly
Taehyung was laughing, rich and infectious, but just a touch wistful. “Was I
behaved enough to play with pretty Jungkook?”
Jimin, lounged in his chair with an odd drunken grace, smirked. “You don’t need
permission, Tae. Aren’t you supposed to be the rebellious one?”
Taehyung shrugged, tracing patterns on the back of Jungkook’s hand. “Not when
it comes to bedroom matters.”
Jimin nodded slowly in agreement. “Mm, I suppose you’re right. You always are a
good little sub for Seokjin.”
Jungkook didn’t quite understand the use of the word sub in such context, but
from Taehyung’s hooded shy eyes alone, he could tell it was a very sexual
thing. “I could be good for Jungkookie, too.”
Jimin’s eyes flashed with something dark, and he sat a little straighter,
amusement wiped from his face. Jungkook shifted in his seat. He was too tipsy
to feel uncomfortable from the look- rather, it had him getting a little hot
and bothered. He knew where the conversation would lead. Or, at least where he
wanted it to lead. To the bedroom. How vulgar it felt, to have such thoughts.
Not too long ago, he was quaking in his boots at the thought of intimacy. Is
that why alcohol is called liquid courage?
“How mad would Seokjin be if we left?” Jimin murmured, and Taehyung’s eyes
darted over to where the king sat in his flowered chair.
“I think his grandmother will be more upset by it than him,” Taehyung answered
honestly, and that was probably the truth. She had come by several more times
to check in on them, and would no doubt notice their absence if she decided to
come around again. Otherwise, the rest of the guests were too drunk to care,
the atmosphere a lot louder than it had been at the beginning of the festival.
Seokjin looked over then, just briefly, but his eyes quickly flit back when he
noticed the three staring at him. He raised an eyebrow, and Jimin subtly nodded
towards the door. Seokjin humored them with a small pout, which made Taehyung
laugh at his petulance, but Seokjin quickly schooled himself before others
noticed and nodded approvingly.
Jungkook’s heart rate had picked up by then, as he was quickly ushered from his
seat. He paused before being swept away to steal the rest of Taehyung’s wine,
which had been served with dinner. It left his throat and belly warm as he
crutched along behind Taehyung and Jimin.
“I didn’t get to dance,” Jungkook sighed softly, sadly. Taehyung turned to walk
backwards, Jimin rolling his eyes as he grabbed his sleeve to maneuver him from
running into walls.
“Jimin and I will dance with you whenever you want,” he promised, eyes
crinkling with his smile.
Jungkook nodded, but sighed again, deflating a little against his crutches. “I
wanted Seokjin to dance with me,” he admitted softly, and Taehyung’s expression
grew melancholic.
“Ah. Seokjin said he wanted to. Just last night, he was talking about it.”
Taehyung fell back so he could face frontways again, but still walk next to
Jungkook. “He would have, but he was concerned for your image. He knows the
norm in the forest kingdom. You’re expected to only want women. You’re supposed
to marry a woman. Seokjin is also expected to marry a woman, at least by his
grandmother. He’s allowed to have male concubines, like me and Jimin, but grams
urges him to keep his relationship with us purely for pleasure. She wants him
to fall for and marry a woman, so she can have grandkids and a pure blooded
heir.”
Jungkook tilted his head. “It is not like that, though.”
Ahead of them, Jimin shakes his head. “He loves us. He says it every day. It
hurts him, to love us so much, because he’s a proud Kim and he knows his
grandparents would think it’s absurd.”
“What about his parents? What would they have wanted?”
Jimin fell gravely silent, stopping. His back was tense. Taehyung and Jungkook
halted when they caught up to him, and found him with his chin down and
eyebrows drawn. Taehyung was just as curious as Jungkook- he must not have
known much about the late Kims either.
“I…” Jimin started, but changed course. “He doesn’t care what they would have
wanted. They were awful to him. Awful to everybody.”
“What happened to them, Jimin?” Taehyung inquired gently. Jimin inhaled deeply,
and shook his head.
When Jimin turned his face towards them, he had a cautious little grin crossing
his lips, a nervous look in his eyes. “Can we save this conversation for a
night where we’re not about to ravish Jungkook?”
Taehyung’s breath caught, and he nodded quickly, starting to walk at a faster
pace. Jimin snickered at his eagerness, urging Jungkook along, up the winding
stairs where the two supported the kings sides to make it quick and easy. They
paused in the space outside their rooms, looking around at the three doors.
“Whose-?” Jimin began to ponder, but Jungkook, in a stroke of devilish
cheekiness, interrupted him.
“Seokjin’s.”
The implication was heavy in the air for all of a split second before Jimin was
breezing in through Seokjin’s door, Taehyung and Jungkook following close
behind. Jungkook had barely stepped through the threshold before Taehyung was
gently pushing Jungkook’s back to the door, closing it with his body and
effectively trapping him in the concubine’s embrace. Their faces were abruptly
centimeters apart, breaths mingling, just barely panting from climbing so many
stories- or perhaps it was the desire drawing the air from their lungs.
“I’ve been waiting,” Taehyung divulged, his eyes growing heavy, falling to
Jungkook’s lips. “Weeks,” he stressed, nosing his way closer, head drawn to the
side. Jungkook could feel his body heat- it was everywhere, all over himself.
Taehyung made a tiny, desperate noise, and it surprised Jungkook. He was
affecting the other man so much, and they hadn’t even touched.
“You’re trembling,” Jungkook whispered. Taehyung only shuddered harder, then
pressed his body into Jungkook’s so the king could feel the tremors. Jungkook
released his crutches, letting them fall against the walls, and gripped
Taehyung’s hips. His waist was tiny; he was soft and frail where Jimin was
muscular and strong. The simple touch had Taehyung melting, but he still did
not kiss Jungkook, simply hovered and wanted and- waited. He was waiting.
“You have to own him, Jungkook,” Jimin advised. When Jungkook glanced over
Taehyung’s shoulder, he found the other concubine already lounged on the bed,
shoes and socks discarded but the rest of his clothes on. Somehow, it was still
utterly erotic. He would be watching, whenever he wasn’t participating. “He’s
fallen into subspace already.”
“Subspace…” Jungkook muttered, and looked back to Taehyung, whose head had
fallen against Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook slowly lifted the man’s chin with a
gentle hand, and Taehyung allowed it, his eyes blinking open with a dreamlike
appearance. It could be the alcohol they’d consumed- but Jungkook had a feeling
that what he was seeing what this subspace Jimin spoke of. The sleepy manner in
which Taehyung had followed around Seokjin and thoughtlessly fell to his knees
to obey and be docile. So unlike the Taehyung that had first kissed him so long
ago- but then, their relationship had changed. It wasn’t about simple strangers
kissing on a whim. They knew each other. Taehyung was showing Jungkook a more
intimate side of himself.
“Jungkook,” Taehyung breathed, and how could Jungkook deny such a blatant plea?
Using his hand, still tucked firmly under Taehyung’s jaw, he brought the man
close and kissed him as softly as he deserved after waiting so patiently for so
long. Taehyung practically mewled, greedy to slide his tongue against
Jungkook’s. He was pliant, soft, and wet. Jungkook couldn’t help but to
appreciate the difference a kiss could be between two people. Jimin was
insistent and hungry like a starved beast. Taehyung was passive and drank it in
like a man dying of thirst.
Jimin sighed from the bed, short and content and in a familiar way that told
Jungkook that the concubine was already aroused, just by the sight of Jungkook
licking into Taehyung’s mouth in deep strokes.
When they parted, Jungkook having to force himself away with difficult self-
restraint, Taehyung’s knees had weakened and he was sinking against Jungkook,
lips still parted, pretty and pink. They were so soft, so plush and easy
against Jungkook’s.
Jungkook licked his own lips, but forced his eyes back to Taehyung’s. You have
to own him, Jimin had said. “Go wait on the bed for me,” Jungkook ordered
quietly, and Taehyung nodded moonily, stumbling away. Jungkook took the moment
to gather himself, his head and heart racing alike, then took up his crutches
to approach the two concubine. He toed off his shoe and sock, leaving the
crutches beside them as he crawled onto the bed. Jimin was on his back, palm
against his own crotch and eyes heavily lidded. Taehyung was sitting on his
knees next to him near the pillows, the picture of debauched innocence.
Jungkook had never had to handle two lovers- he hardly had experience with one.
The decision was easy, though- Taehyung sat aside in a submissive manner while
Jimin laid back with a look that called for Jungkook’s attention.
Jungkook eased his way over Jimin’s body, and Jimin released a breathy groan,
reaching up to Jungkook’s collar to pull him closer. “You’re in control
tonight,” he told Jungkook.
“Even over you?”
Jimin nodded. “We got you a little drunk. Everything you do, we want it to be
your decision. Just in case.”
Jimin’s eyes looked slightly scared, slightly pained at that. Jungkook may have
been drunk, like Jimin said, but he still knew what Jimin was saying. “You
think I will regret it.”
“It’s just in case,” Jimin repeated- tried to, because Jungkook was dipping
down to kiss the words away. He didn’t want to hear them. He wouldn’t regret
it, not for a second, and that was the only thing that scared him about doing
it.
Jimin responded in that way of his- harsh with tongue and teeth, craving
roughness in a manner that Taehyung did not. Jungkook gave it to him, dragging
Jimin’s shirt from where it was tucked into his pants, nails biting into the
skin as he forced it up and off, making them part for a brief, agonizing
moment. Taehyung whimpered, and Jimin smirked against Jungkook’s mouth. He felt
the words against his lips as Jimin spoke, “He won’t touch himself. Not without
your permission.”
Jungkook inhaled sharply, turning his head to Taehyung, where he sat squirming
with dark eyes that watched the other two’s every move. Jimin took the
opportunity to kiss and suck at Jungkook’s throat. When Jungkook reacted to the
stimulation with a choked little moan, Taehyung’s mouth dropped open, his hips
shifting, clearly needing relief.
“Do it,” Jungkook urged, words slurring together in his haze of pleasure. “Take
off your clothes for me.”
Taehyung obliged, unbuttoning his shirt with shaking hands, pushing down his
pants with fumbling fingers. Jungkook had seen his body many times before, but
every inch of exposed skin still enthralled the king. Taehyung had to lay back
to shimmy his pants and underwear off, and Jungkook’s throat tightened at his
exposed, flushed skin, his hardness curved over his quivering stomach.
With a small bite under Jungkook’s jaw, Jimin whispered, “He’s so good for you.
So pretty, isn’t he?”
“Beautiful,” Jungkook agreed breathily, and Taehyung whined, feeding off the
praise.
“Go to him,” Jimin urged. “I’ll get everything we need.”
Jungkook’s stomach swooped at that, but he didn’t linger on it, letting Jimin
slide away so he could move over Taehyung. Instead of Jimin, who had pulled
Jungkook in, Taehyung simply lay at Jungkook’s will. Jungkook couldn’t stop
staring, enchanted by Taehyung’s messy, effortless perfection. Jungkook wanted
to touch- so he did, because he had the power to, he was in control, and
Taehyung devoured the feeling of Jungkook’s hand sliding down his side like it
was the greatest sensation he’d ever felt. Taehyung’s lips formed a word, too
small to hear, and Jungkook lowered himself to hear it properly. Taehyung
repeated, hoarsely, a broken, “Please.”
Jungkook was burning with desire. “Undress me,” he demanded Taehyung, and eager
hands were crawling up his shirt within an instant. As soon as it was off,
Jungkook rewarded Taehyung was a languid kiss, their lips sliding together as
Taehyung untied the wrapped waist of Jungkook’s pants. He took his time,
soothing his palms over Jungkook’s hip bones as the material slid down to
expose them, taking the king’s underwear with it. Jungkook was shaking by then,
too, and they must have looked a mess- a lustful, shivering mess. Taehyung kept
making the most delectable noises into Jungkook’s mouth, which only escalated
when Jungkook- finally freed from his clothing- rolled his hips down fluidly.
“Fuck,” Jimin hissed at the sight, and the bed dipped. Suddenly, there was the
warmth of a firm chest along Jungkook’s back. Jimin was naked, his length
pressing against the backside of Jungkook’s thigh, his nose tucking into
Jungkook’s neck to lick and nip at the skin there. It was shameless, their
three bodies rutting together, taking what friction they could- but Jimin had
plans that involved much more than simple frottage.
“I’m going to take care of Taehyung,” Jimin mumbled, still nuzzling into the
new bruises he was painting on Jungkook’s skin, “Let Taehyung take care of
you.”
Jungkook dragged Taehyung’s plump bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled
away, nodding. Jimin guided Jungkook to sit back against the pillows, propped
on the headboard, and whispered gentle encouragements for Taehyung to get on
all fours.
Propped over Jungkook’s lap on spread knees and bent elbows, Taehyung blinked
up at Jungkook, tongue drawing along the seam of his lips. “Jungkook,” he said
softly, sweetly in that deep voice of his. Jungkook’s hand found his hair,
stroked through the silky strands for a moment, and Taehyung closed his eyes
and leaned into the touch. Then Jungkook gripped, and Taehyung gasped. “Want
to- let me-“
“Yes,” Jungkook urged, voice coming out tight. He swallowed. “Yes, Taehyung.”
Taehyung hummed and leaned forward, lips just grazing Jungkook’s erection.
Jungkook’s breath stuttered, and he lost it completely at the first kitten lick
Taehyung gave to the head of his dick. Jimin was taking his place behind
Taehyung, a small jar of clear, gel-like liquid in hand. Jungkook was certain
he would be done very quick if he watched either man- but he found himself
unable to look away. When he glanced down, Taehyung was stretching his mouth
over Jungkook, and when he looked up, Jimin was gliding a wet finger teasingly
against Taehyung.
“Oh, f-fuck,” Jungkook cursed, so unlike himself, as he felt the heat of
Taehyung’s slick mouth sink down his length, tongue lapping on the underside.
Jimin released a low chuckle, and in a second, something changed. Taehyung gave
a muffled moan around Jungkook, making the king’s toes curl at the vibration
sending waves of heat into his gut. Taehyung drew off, and Jungkook whined, but
the sight of the concubine pushing back against the finger Jimin had inserted
in him was just hot enough that Jungkook didn’t mind the loss. Jimin pumped his
finger a few times, and Taehyung arched his back, begging for more. Jungkook’s
hand tightened in his hair, pulling him closer again, begging, “Tae.”
Taehyung took Jungkook easier now, bobbing his head and sucking with obscene
little wet noises that had Jungkook’s hips involuntarily bucking. Taehyung took
it, not trying to hold the king back, not choking, and soon enough, Jungkook
was fucking up into the concubine’s mouth as Jimin worked two fingers into him.
“Good boy, such a good boy, Taehyung,” Jungkook choked out, and nearly shouted
when Jimin started jerking Taehyung and the man’s jaw habitually slackened,
allowing Jungkook deeper. Taehyung’s eyes were wet with the effort of taking
Jungkook’s cock down his throat, but he was loving it, getting off to it like
Jungkook never imagined possible. Jungkook’s pleasure was already building to a
crescendo, heart loud to his own ears at the sensation of snapping his hips up
into Taehyung’s pliant, wet mouth. Whimpers were spilling from him with each
drag of Taehyung’s lips down his shaft, cheeks hollowing on the upstroke,
tongue gliding around the sensitive head and dipping into the slit, sending
sparks flying behind Jungkook’s eyelids. “Tae, I am- ah, I’m going to come,
please, Tae.”
Taehyung didn’t relent. Jimin was pushing in and out of him with three fingers,
and the concubine was blissed beyond lucidity, on the verge of orgasm himself.
“He’ll take it,” Jimin assured Jungkook, grunting with the effort of
maintaining both his hands’ rhythm. “Come, Jungkook.”
Taehyung hummed again around Jungkook- and that was enough. Jungkook’s knees
curled up, heels digging into the bed as he threw his head back, crying out as
he came. For a moment, he saw white, and Taehyung continued to stimulate
Jungkook through his aftershocks until he was sensitive and aching. Jungkook,
with his fingers clenched in Taehyung’s hair, dragged the boy up his body to
share a heated, bitter tasting kiss. Jungkook felt Taehyung’s gasp against his
lips before he felt the splashes of cum hit his stomach, Taehyung immediately
going boneless, dropping from his shaking forearms onto Jungkook’s chest where
he could hide his face there.
Jungkook watched, still panting from his release, as Jimin removed his fingers
and began finally jerking himself off. Jungkook gestured for Jimin, and the
dark-haired man dropped to his side next to him and Taehyung. Jungkook folded
his hand over Jimin’s and turned his head to press their lips together. “You’ve
been so patient,” Jungkook whispered against him before their tongues met, and
Jimin made a high-pitched noise. He wasn’t quite like Taehyung, where praise
got him off, but he appreciated it. He wanted to feel loved and cherished, and
Jungkook reminded him that he was, allowing Jimin to hitch a groan as he came,
bucking into Jungkook’s fist, cheeks dusted a rosy pink, lips stained red.
Jimin pressed his forehead against Jungkook’s, eyes closed, and heaved a
shuddering breath.
“Thank you,” Jimin whispered, and Jungkook nodded minutely, letting his eyelids
flutter closed. In the next breath, Jimin was laughing, soft and pleasantly.
“We made a mess.”
Jungkook made a noncommittal noise. That had been his goal. For Seokjin to find
them, sweaty and cum-stained, utterly sexed out. Jungkook wanted to spark
something in Seokjin. He wanted more than a teasing press of lips.
It was a bold move, Jungkook knew, and he would have been mortified to pull it
off had he not drank several tall flutes of champagne and two small glasses of
wine. I won’t regret it, he reminded himself. It was easy to think that,
sandwiched between the two boys his heart swelled so much more. All I want is
the third man I want. It seemed so much to ask for- three lovers- but it was
within his grasp. He was allowed to want that, there, in the mountain kingdom.
He was able to have it. Give in to me, Seokjin, he pled silently. So I can give
myself to you.
“Goodnight, Jungkookie. Goodnight, Jiminie,” Taehyung said through a yawn, and
the warm breath of it fanned out over Jungkook’s chest, right over his heart.
It had finally slowed, comfortable and content. “I love you,” Taehyung
whispered, and it spiked again, that pesky heartbeat of his.
“Goodnight,” was all Jungkook could respond with.
~~~
The sunlight was warm. Impossibly, wonderfully warm. It spilled through sheer
yellow curtains, and fell over the white sheet of the bed, over the hands that
rested on top of it. They were paler than they should have been, but still
stood out against the cloth. His eyes were cracking open, slowly but surely,
the brown of his irises aglow with the rays of light shining in them. He
welcomed it, the sun in his eyes, how it blinded him for a moment before
filling his surroundings with a soft illumination.
A man was sat by his bedside in a wooden chair, but he was gazing out the
window, his palms together underneath his chin and his eyes set in worry.
Strawberry blonde locks caught in the sunset and shone with rich shades of
bronze and gold.
Yoongi parted his lips, his mouth making a small sticking sound with how
parched he was. It got Hoseok’s attention- and good thing, because Yoongi found
that he couldn’t speak, no more than a wordless croak from his vocal cords.
Hoseok was on his feet instantly, bringing a cup of water from closer to
Yoongi, a bent straw allowing it to reach his mouth. “Drink,” Hoseok urged him,
and Yoongi closed his lips over the straw. The water felt refreshing, even as
it hurt his raw, dry throat. Hoseok made him finish the entire glass before
taking it away and allowing Yoongi to try and speak again.
Yoongi gathered himself for a moment. He couldn’t feel his body, really, but
from the mild foginess of his mind, he hoped that was due to painkillers. When
he opened his mouth this time, it felt exerting just to utter a single word.
“Hoseok,” he chose to say. It would comfort the king the most, he thought, and
indeed the man’s expression flooded with relief.
He dropped back into his chair, covering his face with his hands for a second
before inhaling and regarding Yoongi again. “We didn’t think- We weren’t sure
if you would wake up.”
Yoongi wasn’t sure he was a hundred percent awake, but he didn’t voice that.
Already, his eyelids were heavy from the effort of keeping them slanted open.
He fought through each blink, for Hoseok’s sake. “N…” Shit, Yoongi cursed
himself, feeling weak and hopeless. He wasn’t scared of dying, if that was to
happen, but he wasn’t quite ready. It would be like stopping a book before the
climax, the resolution. “Namjoon?” He finally pushed out sluggishly. His voice
was awful to his own ears, husky and ruined.
“He set up a base in Jungkook’s palace. He’s trying to rally the Jeon court and
comfort the forest citizens,” Hoseok assured him. His hands were hovering over
the arms of his chair, uncertain, wondering what to do.
Yoongi sighed, drawn out and tired. He closed his eyes again, and could only
hum in acknowledgement. He felt a small weight on the side of the bed- Hoseok
perhaps having leaned over him.
“Yoongi, you should stay awake. The doctor will be right back. He-“
“Mm- I’m fine,” Yoongi slurred out. He wasn’t fine. His head felt like it was
weighted by bricks, his brain replaced with them, spilling out of him. He could
twitch the very tip of his middle finger, but every other part of him was
stuck. Even his lips could move no more, his tongue useless in his mouth.
“Yoongi,” Hoseok said again, distressed. Yoongi hummed once more. Sounds were
distant, just a buzzing in his ears. His eyelids were bright from the setting
sun, but growing darker every second, being swallowed whole by it.
Is Hyuna okay? He wanted to ask. Jisoo? Surely Jisoo was in the worst
condition, if not dead. He’d barely been alive when Yoongi had been keeping him
warm and comfortable, let alone after a night in a frozen cave. So many times,
I failed Jungkook. Get him, Hoseok. Take him by force if you must.
He was drifting fast- into sleep, into death, he did not know- when he was
jolted by a faint prick in his arm. For a second, there was a flare of burning
hot pain, like fire had begun to consume his blood. His breath came sharp- but
it disappeared fast. When Yoongi found the strength to barely lift one eyelid,
Hoseok and an unrecognizable doctor were leaning over him. He tried to jokingly
say ow, but his mind was filled with white noise, and he couldn’t feel his lips
to tell if they’d moved.
But Hoseok smiled, just for a flicker, and it was enough for Yoongi.
He was warm all over.
Chapter End Notes
     Hello, I was excited to post this because I wanted to get back to a
     consistent weekend posting schedule, but then my English professor
     hit me with two essays and a speech :))) so uh... sorry in advance.
     Comment! I live for comments! How are we feeling about Mingyu and
     Wonwoo? The dynamics of the... SeokTaeMinKook relationship?? Yoongi
     and Hoseok??? Anything???? Also, whose point of view are y’all
     interested in seeing? I’ll take it into consideration or maybe
     dedicate longer portions of the chapters to certain characters.
     ~MC
     (don’t forget to listen to Hope World)
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!