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Chapter Text

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“A witch, mother? Really?” Min Yoongi asked, his words coming out alongside a fond but exasperated sigh. His mother was nothing if not diligent in her love for everything occult. You’d think being the queen would mean that she toned it down a bit, but she did not. Nothing toned down Choi Sooyoung. It was one of the things her husband, Yoongi’s father, loved about her. Which is probably how they ended up with a court witch like that was a normal thing.

The queen smiled at him, unruffled by her son’s tone. “Of course! He’s lovely. Powerful too.”

“Oh? Did he demonstrate his remarkable skills?” Yoongi wondered pointedly. “Pull a rabbit out of a hat and all that?”

“You’d think,” the queen murmured, “your hair would be enough to convince you magic was real.”

Yoongi paused, his hand moving to his hair automatically. He’d left it mostly down today since he’d known he’d be spending most of his time with his brother and that allowed his fingers to tangle in ends and fiddle subconsciously. Yoongi, quite honestly, didn’t know what to think of his hair. His mother had always said it was a blessing left by a witch who’d stayed with them while she was pregnant. His father never commented, though he did admit a woman claiming to be a witch had stayed on the palace grounds around that time. Other people had different theories, of course. Some thought it was a curse of some kind, a warning to the rest of the royal family to behave properly. Yoongi would believe that more if he was the heir, but he wasn’t, so it seemed like a bit of a waste. The most common rumour was simply that he was illegitimate. That seemed… more plausible. Or it would be if he didn’t look so much like both his father and older brother.

He wasn’t going to say any of that to his mother, of course, so he simply sighed. “At least promise me he doesn’t have a cat. You know I’m allergic.”

“No cat,” the queen promised immediately, still smiling. She was in too good a mood after finally convincing the witch Kim Seokjin to take a post at the royal court—he’d been very opposed at first—so even her son’s disbelief couldn’t ruin it for her. “Did you want to meet him? I’m going to his new quarters tomorrow for tea.”

“I’m okay,” Yoongi rejected. The last thing he needed was to waste an afternoon with someone claiming to be a witch. “I have to meet with brother about the growing tensions in the west anyway.”

The queen hummed, frowning slightly. “Perhaps I’ll ask Seokjin about that.”

“Seokjin?” Yoongi repeated, tilting his head in confusion.

“The new witch!”

Yoongi groaned. “Mother. Please refrain from getting diplomatic advice from someone claiming to be a witch.”

The queen waved his words away. “I’ll do what I want. Now, shoo, off with you. I have to change for dinner with your father.”

“Since when are we having dinner with father?” Yoongi asked, frowning again. They didn’t often get to eat together, there simply wasn’t enough time in the day, especially given the sheer number of duties all four of them had.

“We’re not, I am,” the queen said with a small smile. “It’s our anniversary.”

Yoongi blinked. “Your anniversary is in August. It’s March.”

“Yes, I’m aware, Yoongi,” the queen huffed out. “If you must know, it’s the anniversary of when your father asked me to marry him. Or rather, of when he stuttered out something he claims was a proposal, dropped a jade pendant at my feet, and then ran away. He was very sweet back then. You remind me of him.”

Considering Yoongi knew their marriage had been arranged, Yoongi wasn’t entirely sure under what circumstances his father could have butchered a proposal, but he smiled anyway. He counted himself among the very lucky because not only did his parents like each other, they seemed to actually love each other. That wasn’t common among the people he associated with, it wasn’t something he himself would ever have, so it was nice to see. “Then I hope you have a lovely evening, mother.”

“I will,” the queen promised, pushing up on her toes to kiss Yoongi on the cheek. “Do make sure your brother actually eats dinner this evening, will you?”

“I will,” Yoongi echoed, returning his mother’s kiss before leaving the room so she could get ready, all thoughts of the new court witch entirely forgotten.

♔♔♔

Kim Seokjin hadn’t planned on taking an appointment at the royal court, he really hadn’t, but he found, despite his age and power, refusing the will of the current queen was quite impossible. He’d seen a few in his day, all passing with little notice, but Queen Choi Sooyoung was a force. He liked her immediately. Which was probably why he’d agreed despite his desire to wander freely and his overall disdain for pretty much all authority figures.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spell that gets out wine stains, would you?” The queen in question asked, frowning slightly as she sipped her tea.

Seokjin considered for a moment, going over his more simple cleaning spells. “I might actually.”

“Really?” The queen murmured, brightening considerably. “If I had someone bring over a set of robes, could you try and fix them? I know it’s not within your duties per se…”

“It’s fine,” Seokjin assured her. “I will, however, need the story as payment.”

The queen snorted and shook her head. She liked Seokjin a lot. He was sassy and fun and, unlike everyone else in her life aside from her family, didn’t bend over backwards to placate her. “My husband is quite clumsy when he’s nervous and it was a special night last night. He knocked over my cup.”

Seokjin laughed. “The king did this?”

“He did,” the queen admitted, smiling a bit at the memory. Her husband may run a country and command an army of thousands, but, when all that was stripped away, he was still just the awkward man who’d offered to run away with her if she didn’t want to be queen.

“Amazing,” Seokjin sighed out. “You get all the best gossip at the royal palace.”

“The king being clumsy isn’t exactly a national secret.”

“No, but the fact he still gets flustered around his wife might be! Think of the romance stories that could be told from this!” Seokjin declared.

Rolling her eyes, unaware both her sons got the habit from her, the queen shook her head and set her teacup down. “Anyway, I’ll have someone bring it over this evening.”

“Of course. I’ll see what I can do,” Seokjin agreed easily. It wasn’t an incredibly complicated spell, so he wasn’t worried. If that was all the queen wanted him to do while he lived here, he was going to end up living the high life with little to no effort.

The queen nodded. “Do you do predictions?”

Seokjin raised a brow. He’d spoken too soon. “Like is this woman a good match for my son or like is this country going to attack tomorrow?”

“The latter,” the queen murmured.

“Well, I can do both but the second is much harder,” Seokjin admitted, taking a sip of his tea. “The more variables involved, the less accurate my predictions can be. It’s impossible to know what everyone will do at every given moment.”

Pursing her lips, the queen stared at Seokjin somewhat blankly. He could see the wheels turning in her head, knew she was thinking of what to do or say next, so he waited. Eventually, she nodded to herself like she was confirming something then spoke again, “What would you need to get the most accurate prediction?”

Seokjin sighed and set down his now empty cup. “I’ll give you a list.”

♔♔♔

“Sometimes it’s just easier to not ask questions.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “That doesn’t sound very kingly of you.”

Crown Prince Min Hyungki, Yoongi’s older brother, rolled his eyes. “Good thing I’m not king.”

“Not yet,” Yoongi pointed out as he poured another drink for his brother before topping up his own. “And how could I not ask questions when she’s moved a witch into the palace? Have you seen him?”

“Not yet,” Hyungki admitted with a small shrug. “Father approved it.”

Yoongi hummed and sipped his drink. “Of course he did.”

“He’s probably harmless. The guards will keep an eye on him anyway,” Hyungki assured him.

“She wanted to ask him about his opinion on the war,” Yoongi revealed with a small sigh. “I’ll never understand her blind trust in people like that.”

Hyungki leaned forward, resting one elbow on the table between them as he raised an eyebrow at his younger brother. “Really? You’re asking that after she popped out a blonde baby?”

“Don’t blame me for this; I can’t choose my hair!” Yoongi snapped, waving the hand holding his drink abruptly enough that it sloshed over the rim and soaked his fingers. Yoongi huffed petulantly, pouting at his older brother for making him spill his drink. “Look what you made me do!”

“I didn’t tell you to be dramatic,” Hyungki rebutted even as he held out a cloth so Yoongi could wipe his hand. “And I wasn’t blaming you. I was simply pointing out that your hair is the only sign she’ll ever need that magic exists.”

Yoongi sighed as he dried his hand. “Her story doesn’t even make sense! Why protect the backup heir?!”

“You are not the backup heir,” Hyungki snapped harshly, frowning at Yoongi, who merely rolled his eyes. “Yoongi, seriously—”

“Oh my god, hyung, I’m not upset about it. I’m not sixteen years old anymore,” Yoongi interrupted. He appreciated his brother’s defence, but it’d been a long time since he’d allowed the whispers of his age-mates to affect how he viewed himself and his place within his family. He supposed if he’d had different parents, a different brother, he’d have had a harder time, but he didn’t. His parents cared about them both and, since his father had had to fight his own brother for the crown, he’d always had a close relationship with Hyungki as a result. He knew where he stood.

Hyungki narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, scanning his face like he was looking for something, and then nodded. “As long as you know.”

“I know you love me,” Yoongi promised, then added because he couldn’t help himself, “even if I’m the cursed bastard child marked by the devil with blonde hair.”

“Yoongi,” Hyungki hissed, “don’t you— you’re kidding. Why are you like this?”

Clutching his stomach as he laughed, Yoongi fell over, his breath wheezing. “You should have seen your face!”

“Is that any way to talk to the future king?!”

“Not the king yet,” Yoongi reminded him, still laughing.

Hyungki pursed his lips, refusing to smile even if the pure delight on his younger brother’s face made him want to. He wished they had more time alone, just like this. It was so rare these days and when they were together, they almost always had to talk about the possibility of war—a war which would put Yoongi on the front lines as the second son. It was a scary thought. Hyungki could still remember how small Yoongi had looked all wrapped up in a blanket when he’d first seen him and that almost instantaneous desire to protect him hadn’t faded with time. If anything, it’d only gotten stronger as they’d grown older. “You done?”

“Almost,” Yoongi managed, still snickering as he sat up, his hands moving to his hair and pulling it into a ponytail as he tried to get his laughter under control. “Alright, I’m done.”

“Thank you so much for your effort,” Hyungki said snidely, rolling his eyes again.

Yoongi snorted again and shook his head, the end of his ponytail falling onto his shoulder and trailing down his chest. “I should go back to my chambers. We have that meeting with father in the morning.”

Hyungki hummed and finished off his drink. “You’re right. If we’re tired for that meeting the general will never let father hear the end of it.”

“He’ll complain regardless,” Yoongi sighed out as he pushed himself up. “He’s been disappointed in us since… well, ever.”

“I hope he retires before I have to deal with him,” Hyungki muttered, surprising Yoongi. He was usually better at hiding his disdain for the members of the inner court. But before he could ask a follow-up question, like why, Hyungki stood up as well. “Sleep well, little brother.”

Yoongi smiled softly. “You too, hyung. Say hi to your wife for me. And my future niece or nephew.”

Hyungki inclined his head and moved toward his inner rooms where his wife was likely already sleeping. She was almost six months pregnant and the doctors had ordered her to rest more, which Hyungki took to heart. Yoongi was sure the woman hadn’t been able to lift a finger since the order came down. 

Rolling his shoulders, Yoongi left the rooms and headed across the courtyard towards his own. It was late but the night sky was bright enough that his path was well illuminated. He found himself moving slowly, his thoughts wandering back to the last part of their conversation. General Park had never liked him or Hyungki. He was older than their father and complained that the newest generation was soft. Yoongi often speculated that this had more to do with the fact that his oldest son was a gardener who loved nothing more than pretty flowers, but he’d never asked, mostly because he didn’t care. He didn’t think Hyungki cared either, but his attitude suggested otherwise. He couldn’t imagine what he must have said to make Hyungki so vocally upset with him.

Maybe he’d spoken ill of his wife? Oh Taeso wasn’t of the best family line—her father was a merchant—but they were wealthy and had connections overseas, which is why their father had approved of the marriage. That and the fact that Hyungki had all but refused to get married to anyone else. He was apparently in a family of romantics and he’d never even noticed. 

Perhaps that had more to do with the fact that he’d long ago resigned himself to, well, unhappiness. He didn’t blame his family, no one but Hyungki knew anyway, but there wasn’t anything that could be done. He’d either die alone or be married off to some woman of his mother’s choosing. He supposed, if he was lucky, they could form a platonic bond over the years and he’d be content, but he knew he’d never be happy. Not really. He’d figured that out about a minute after he’d realized that the only people who made his heart race and palms sweat were men.

Such is life.

Lost in his thoughts, Yoongi barely noticed when he wandered past his own quarters and into another courtyard. The only reason he noticed at all was because he wasn’t alone. Halting his steps, Yoongi stared at the man sitting in the middle of the courtyard, his face tilted up towards the sky. Yoongi couldn’t see all of him, it was too dark, but his features were illuminated just like his path home had been and Yoongi was pretty sure he’d stopped breathing. It was like the man glowed under the moonlight, like all the light was bending towards him just so it could bounce off his face and neck. Yoongi swallowed, his eyes tracing over delicate features and plush lips. The man was simply beautiful; there just weren’t enough words to describe it.

He wasn’t sure how long he stared at him, but eventually, the man’s head turned and his eyes met Yoongi’s. His expression didn’t change, remaining impassive and so fucking pretty but he did stand. Even that motion was fluid and Yoongi was starting to wonder if he’d drank more than he’d thought because real people weren’t this perfect. 

“Your Highness.”

Even his voice. Fuck. 

“Did I disturb you?”

Yoongi blinked rapidly, his eyes sweeping around to reveal that he was in the wrong courtyard. “No, I was just walking before bed. You’re fine.”

The man inclined his head but didn’t move further. Yoongi wanted to say something, literally anything, but he just kept staring at him. Somewhere in the back of his head, he realized with a dawning sort of horror that he was more like his father than he thought and his mother was right, but that didn’t help.

“Did you need something, Your Highness?”

“No, uh, no. Continue,” Yoongi managed, spinning on his heel and heading back in the direction of his chambers. He allowed himself to glance back once and saw the man return to his seat, his face tilting right back up to the stars, and sighed. He’d always been weak to a pretty face. Maybe if he asked around, he could find out the name attached to it.

♔♔♔

By some miracle, Yoongi arrived at the meeting room before the general and his father. The latter wasn’t so surprising since the king always arrived last but beating the general really was. He raised a brow at his brother, who shrugged imperceptibly, his hands still folded behind his back as he waited patiently. Yoongi moved to his side as he was expected and mimicked his position,

His silence lasted all of three seconds.

“So, is there a guest in the east courtyard?” Yoongi murmured quietly, keeping his voice low enough that the attendants in the room wouldn’t hear him.

Hyungki tilted his head slightly. “We don’t have anyone visiting at the moment.”

Yoongi hummed. “Interesting.”

“Why?”

“I saw a man sitting there when I returned to my room last night,” Yoongi explained.

“And you didn’t call the guards?” Hyungki asked pointedly, actually turning to Yoongi this time in shock. A random man in the palace wasn’t exactly common.

Yoongi felt his cheeks flush. That… would have been the correct course of action—gods, he hadn’t even asked who he was—but he’d been more than a little distracted by his looks and, in his defence, he’d also been drinking! “He greeted me properly so I just… stop looking at me like that.”

Hyungki sighed. “Yoo—”

Before he could continue, the door opened, and the general came in. He looked displeased already and Yoongi held back his own sigh. His morning was off to a phenomenal start. He was a little hungover, he may or may not have let a man run free in the palace because he was hot, and now the general was upset. Fantastic.

“Crown Prince Hyungki,” the general bowed before turning to Yoongi, “Prince Yoongi.”

“General Park,” Yoongi returned, bowing slightly just after his brother. 

The general scanned them quickly then moved to the table set up in the middle of the room with a map spread out on top. He and his brother had been pouring over it for the better part of three days, trying to plan accordingly. The general looked it over, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he didn’t say anything. Yoongi had no idea if that was a good or bad thing but considering he’d come up with the bulk of the plans, he hoped it was good. He really didn’t want to have to defend himself to the general in front of his father.

“King Min Byungho,” a servant announced, stepping into the room and holding the door open. A few moments later, the king entered, his face impassive.

“Your Highness,” they greeted in unison, bowing appropriately before straightening. The king’s eyes swept the room to make sure everyone was there, then he inclined his head and moved to the head of the table without a word. Yoongi was a little surprised, his father was more chatty than that, but given the situation, he figured he was too focused.

“Explain the situation,” the king ordered simply.

The general stepped forward to speak, but Hyungki raised a hand and looked at Yoongi. “You’ve been studying the situation longer than any of us.”

Yoongi hesitated a moment, his eyes flicking to the very pissed-off expression of the general, then nodded. The king waved his hand, which Yoongi took as a go-ahead, so he began to speak, “So far, there have been no attacks or even declarations of intent, however, several towns along our western border have reported seeing more foreigners than usual. We didn’t really think anything of it, but I sent a few men just in case and they spotted several encampments just outside of sight range on the other side of the border.”

“How did they find them?” The king asked.

“I sent Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi said in way of explanation.

The king blinked. “He crossed the border, didn’t he?”

Yoongi kept his face impassive. Namjoon was a great diplomat, a great councilman, and, honestly, one of the few people Yoongi considered to be a friend in the palace. He was, however, known for doing things in a roundabout or unusual way. He always got results though so, after the first few times he’d listened to Namjoon explain how he’d broken about fifteen rules to get the job done, he stopped asking. His father was more than aware of this. It was, apparently, a family trait and Namjoon’s father had been the same. “I am not aware if that is the case.”

“Right,” the king sighed, “continue.”

“As of now, we have confirmed reports of ten encampments, all with under a hundred men. It’s not enough for a full-scale attack as of yet, but the locals are understandably anxious.”

“Have they responded to letters?” The king asked.

Hyungki stepped slightly forward. “One. They said they were doing training exercises and implied we were spying on them.”

The king tapped the table, his eyes flicking over the map in front of him. So far, the plans he could see in place were entirely defensive and precautionary. There were no fighting units in place. Or, more accurately, nothing that could be seen as an act of aggression if word spread to the other side as it had to theirs. He knew without asking that Yoongi had done the planning. He didn’t have an aggressive bone in his body, and, though he was happy about that, it worried him now. He didn’t want war, but he also didn’t want to be caught unprepared.

“General Park?” The king said, allowing his voice to lilt up, indicating that he was asking a question.

“My reports from the border guards are similar. There’s an increase in travellers to nearby markets but no indication they are military men or spies. That being said, it is naive to assume they are not.”

“What do you recommend?” 

Yoongi tensed slightly, irritated. The general was undoubtedly going to recommend something more aggressive, ignoring Yoongi and Hyungki’s established plans. He knew he didn’t have any practical experience in war, but the general had always been far too militaristic for his liking. His answer to everything was attack first, ask questions later. You’d think he’d be better at strategy after living for so long.

“I’d recommend strengthening the border guard and putting at least as many units in place along the border as a warning,” the general said, his hand moving to the map so he could point to where he thought the units should go. They were all in obvious places and could easily be seen from the border. Yoongi knew that was the point of his recommendation, but it still pissed him off.

“That could be seen as an act of aggression,” Yoongi pointed out.

“They’re doing the same,” the general returned.

Before Yoongi could reply, the king interrupted, “Mark where you think they should go on the map.”

The general did as he was told and Yoongi felt his already stiff body go even more rigid. He didn’t think it was possible but here he was anyway. His brother clearly noticed, the fabric of his robe sweeping along Yoongi’s hand in comfort. He couldn’t touch him, couldn’t offer any real comfort, not here, but he did his best and Yoongi appreciated it.

Once the general was done, the king nodded toward his attendant. “Bring him in.”

“Him?” Hyungki repeated, confusion clear in his voice. Yoongi frowned, surprised that his brother didn’t know what was going on. A quick look at the general told him he wasn’t in the loop either.

A few seconds later, the door opened again and the same attendant directed a tall, vaguely familiar man into the room. Yoongi blinked at him, trying to place him, then made a small noise in surprise. He felt his brother look at him curiously but before he could ask, the attendant announced the man, “Kim Seokjin, court witch.”

Court witch.

Yoongi felt like someone had just dunked him in a lake during the middle of winter. He’d been lusting after the witch his mother had dragged into the palace? This bad morning just kept getting worse.

He was still pretty though.

“Your Highness,” Seokjin bowed politely.

“The queen said she gave you the things needed to make the most accurate prediction about the possibility of an upcoming war,” the king said seriously. “Is that true?”

Seokjin nodded. “I warned her it’s not an exact science. Free will prevents anything from being a guarantee.”

“I’m aware. What did you find?” The king asked.

Hyungki and Yoongi both frowned, their attention split between the king and the witch. Yoongi didn’t like this but, on the bright side, the general looked absolutely livid. Yoongi was seriously wondering if he’d just have a heart attack and drop dead then and there. He was not proud of the small part of him that wasn’t upset by that possibility.

“If all stays as it is now, there will not be a war,” Seokjin said firmly.

The king raised a brow. “What does that mean?”

Seokjin walked toward the table, his hand gesturing to the map. “The placements of the soldiers during this— who changed this?”

“I did—”

“Shush,” Seokjin hissed, his impassive face changing into something harder and more irritated. He leaned forward, his head tilting as he examined the new markings on the map. “These weren’t on the map the queen gave me.”

“No,” the king agreed, “I had them added just before bringing you in.”

Seokjin’s frown deepened, his eyes fixed on the map, then he snorted. It was a nasty sound, full of disdain, and Yoongi couldn’t keep the surprise from his face. No one, and he meant no one, treated the king with such… impertinence. The king looked shocked by it, but Seokjin wasn’t looking at him. Even when the general moved forward, a hand on his sword like he was going to cut him down, Seokjin didn’t react. He just shook his head again. “Royalty. You’re all the same.”

“Excuse me?” Hyungki snapped. “You will address the king properly.”

“Why? He won’t be one for much longer,” Seokjin said with an air of knowledge. “Or he’ll be the king of two territories, one of which will do everything in their power to free themselves. Either way, neither version of him deserves my respect. I’ll be taking my leave.”

“You—”

“What do you mean by that?” The king interrupted, his voice steady and calm.

Seokjin’s eyes flitted back to the king. He stared at him for a moment, as if assessing his character, then answered, “I mean, even without taking the time to do my predictions as I had done for the previous version of this map, I can tell this plan will start an all-out war. People will die. Innocent people. The people you don’t seem to take into account when you plan things like this. Or rather, the people who planned the second part of this map don’t. The first…” Seokjin trailed off, his eyes dipping to the map again. “The first plan prioritized the people and, based on my predictions, that stops the war from happening. I’m not sure how—things are always quite vague in the middle since anything and everything can change—but, in the end, there is no war.”

Yoongi didn’t believe in magic. Even with everyone he knew telling him he was a product of it, he didn’t believe. He did, however, believe in human nature and he agreed with Seokjin. He’d made his plans to save the people on the border. His brother had helped him, adding input from his own experience, for the same reason. They wanted to protect people. The general did not. Regardless of Yoongi’s opinion on the supposed witch in front of him, he was thankful that he was making such a show of his disagreement. Yoongi couldn’t do that, but he clearly could.

“You can guarantee there will be no war?” The king asked.

“I cannot,” Seokjin said simply. “I told you, people have free will. There are a million and fifteen steps between now and the outcome I saw. If any of them change from what was supposed to happen at the time I looked, the outcome can change. But, as of last night, there was no war.”

Yoongi realized, rather belatedly, that was what he’d seen last night. When he’d walked into the courtyard and Seokjin had been sitting alone on the stones looking at the sky, he’d been… predicting? Or whatever the fuck he called it. Yoongi frowned slightly, trying to remember if he’d seen any sort of witchy paraphernalia, but he couldn’t remember anything. That didn’t really make sense to him. Where was the… drama? Wasn’t that what pretending to be a witch was all about?

“Your Highness! You can’t be—” the general began, his voice shaking with anger.

“Silence,” the king interrupted. “I don’t want war, that was never my intent. If the original plan will work, we’ll go with that until it doesn’t.”

“Your Highness!”

“See that it is done,” the king ordered, looking at Hyungki.

Hyungki nodded. “I will issue the orders after we are dismissed.”

“Then you are,” the king said simply, leaving the table. Unlike when he entered, this time he moved past where Hyungki and Yoongi were standing. He paused for a moment, his hand reaching out and touching Yoongi’s shoulder gently, then he was continuing on, leaving the room with a trail of attendants. 

“You’re going to ruin this country. We’ll fall and it will be your fault because you are spineless.” Yoongi blinked, his attention still on the door his father had just left through. He wasn’t aware the general was talking to him specifically until he added, “I supposed we can blame the curse for this too. Ever since you were born—”

“Enough,” Hyungki interrupted, his voice loud and hard. “General Park, you will apologize to my brother and you will leave.”

The general simply huffed and spun on his heel. He didn’t apologize but Yoongi hadn’t expected him to. He could feel Hyungki practically vibrate with anger, but Yoongi just touched him on the arm, unconsciously mimicking his father, and bowed. “I’ll be going.”

“Yoongi—”

Yoongi smiled vaguely and moved to leave. Seokjin was still there, his eyes fixed on where the general had left. He had an odd look on his face, like he was considering something deeply, but Yoongi didn’t care much. He didn’t trust someone pretending to be a witch and he certainly didn’t want to encourage him further. Even if he was thankful for his help in preventing a possible war, he wasn’t about to become friends with him. He would, however, stop bothering his mother about him.

If the royal palace wanted to keep a witch on retainer, Yoongi was officially washing his hands of the entire situation. He couldn’t care less.