Chapter Text
Over the next few days after the incident, Namjoon found he was able to stay awake longer, which meant he now had hours and stretches where he had nothing to do but ache and stare at the walls, or out the window of his little room. The space was cozy enough, with a closet off to one side that he’d never seen the inside of, a desk and chair in one corner, and several lamps that often went unlit. It just wasn’t terribly entertaining.
The prince’s visits continued, becoming more frequent as the shifter could eat more than once a day. The meals themselves had more substance, with vegetables and bread, even the occasional bit of meat. It was on one of these visits while prince Yoongi was changing his bandages that Namjoon commented on his boredom. The royal paused, halfway through wrapping Namjoon’s chest, in that weird almost-hug he had to do to accomplish it. The shifter stared at him, conflicted as the prince hummed to himself, thinking.
“Do you read, skin changer?” He eventually asked, resuming his task, much to Namjoon’s relief. His wounds were showing improvement, more than he’d expected really, which the shifter attributed to whatever salve the royal used. He already needed fewer bandages, though had to be cautious about reopening scabs and stitches in places. He blinked at the question.
“Well... yes. A little.” He replied with a faint grimace. He could decipher enough to get through his King’s missives when they were written rather than given verbally by the runner boy, but not much beyond that. The prince hummed again, low voice a pleasant thrum as he tied off the bandage and sat back, now eying Namjoon.
“I might have an idea.” He stated, and was suddenly off the bed and grabbing the tray. Namjoon watched him leave, confused by his unusually quick departure. They didn’t talk too much, but the pattern of meals and medicine had set up something of a routine they followed. Inevitably, a few conversations had arisen, if only to stave off the awkward silence.
The shifter had just settled back into his pillows to wile away a few hours when prince Yoongi pushed through the door again, uncharacteristically soon. Namjoon blinked owlishly at him, then down at the things stacked in the smaller man’s arms.
Books.
He’d brought a number of books, in varying sizes and covers. No more than five, and he set them down on the bedside table where the tray usually went. The royal looked satisfied with himself.
“These should give you something to do for a while. I do not know your literary tastes, so I chose a few.” He said, patting the stack. The shifter stared at him, then at the books, before cautiously reaching out to take one of the thinner volumes.
Namjoon had said he read a little, but somehow couldn’t bring himself to admit that he’d meant it literally, not referring to the frequency. He opened the book to a random page, staring at the expanse of symbols and picking out a few. Most of it was strange to him. He scowled at it, somehow irritated to discover another shortcoming he hadn’t really considered as such before.
He heard a sound from the royal whom he’d half forgotten was there, and fought not to look up. Maybe if he stared at the page long enough it would start to make sense.
“If you cannot recognize some of it, you need only ask.” Yoongi stated, the simple words bringing a flush of embarrassment to Namjoon’s ears.
“I understand it just fine.” He said, attempting a biting tone. By the grunt from the prince, the other didn’t buy it. The shifter felt the mattress dip as the royal sat beside him by the head of the bed, in a position here he could view the open book from the same angle as Namjoon, their shoulders brushing.
“Alright, perhaps I don’t need to.” The shifter huffed, moving to close the book. Yoongi’s hand reached out and stopped the pages from meeting, before turning and smoothing them back open.
“Perhaps you should give it a try before surrendering so easily.” He drawled, lazily chiding. Namjoon felt himself prickle at the accusation, despite knowing that was likely the prince’s intention.
“Fine.” the shifter gritted, ceasing his attempts to close the leather bound object. He side eyed prince Yoongi dubiously. “Are you going to teach me?”
“Indeed, skin changer. So cut the attitude.” The royal said, something almost resembling a smile turning up one side of his mouth. Namjoon let his expression go flat and unimpressed, before he turned back to the pages, idly pointing out what symbols he could identify and read to begin with.
And just like that, reading lessons were added to their routine. After every evening meal, prince Yoongi would sit beside Namjoon and show him a few more symbols, bringing writing parchment and implements to let him practice with. Sometimes the royal let the practice distract the shifter as he changed bandages or attended something in the room. Namjoon would never admit it, but the man was a good teacher, steady and patient.
It was always there, through the coming week. The nag of building guilt and unease in the shifter’s gut. He had been ordered to kill this man. This strange prince who brought him sustenance, tended his injuries and now shared his knowledge. He had been ordered to kill him, and it was his duty to do so. Namjoon must follow his duty, or he was nothing. Without the king, without his liege and his loyalty, he was nothing.
He must finish his mission, even if every passing day made the idea, the very concept more nauseating.
-
Three weeks after Namjoon first awoke, and the prince decided he was fit to try and walk.
With help, of course.
His magical nature as a shifter had sped his healing process, and thus most of his wounds were on the mend.
“It’s time you stop lying around.” Yoongi had said, apparently satisfied with what he saw under the bandages that day, and after moving the tray to wherever he kept the things he brought and took from the room, he had returned. The prince’s wide sleeves were pushed up, and his brow quirked upon seeing Namjoon already sat at the edge of the bed, legs swung off and eagerly waiting. He’d been forced to promise he wouldn’t try it on his own under threat of sedation.
Also, blessedly, Yoongi has given him a light robe to wear, tied around the middle with a flowing sash. The point was Namjoon wasn’t about to walk around in only his undergarments, for which he was grateful.
The prince gave a nod, striding over to the bed and putting an arm loosely under the shifter’s.
“Ready?” the Royal asked, letting a small smile slip as Namjoon bobbed his head, too focused to bother with a verbal response.
“Alright, go ahead.” Yoongi said, with a tone of joking weary tolerance. The shifter decided to let it go in favor of rising to his feet. Finally, after longer than he’d ever been incapacitated. He’d never thought standing up could be so exhilarating, but it felt amazing to be on his own two feet again. Or it did for about ten seconds. Namjoon’s head abruptly swirled as circulation kicked into a gear it hadn’t used in far too long, and he pitched off balance.
He felt himself stumbling into the prince, and half of him expected his weight, greatly improved with regular meals and rest, to take the smaller man down with him. The shifter really should have remembered that Yoongi had bodily carried him twice before.
The prince’s arm, half out and ready to steady him looped around his waist as he tipped, the other hand coming up to grip Namjoon’s bicep. The majority of his momentum fell against Yoongi’s chest as the shifter’s hands came up to catch himself on the other’s sturdy shoulders. His stumble was halted all at once, and he sucked in a breath as his vision cleared of black spots, lulling head coming up with an apology on the tip of his tongue.
It died there as Namjoon found his face a bare inch from the prince’s, his half bent posture putting them on a level. He stared, feeling his eyes go wide as he looked into that liquid dark gaze of Yoongi’s, lungs stuttering to a halt.
Namjoon couldn’t have named it, the reason his nerves went on high alert at their abrupt proximity. Through reading lessons and bandage changing they’d been near each other often enough, but right now he couldn’t breath and he couldn’t fathom why. He also couldn’t seem to look away.
If he hadn’t been so caught up in... whatever this moment was, he might have noticed the prince’s ears tinge red under his ruffled hair. The royal was suddenly helping Namjoon upright, inadvertently putting distance between them as he glanced down, making sure the shifter had his footing again.
“Easy there, skin changer. Take your time.” He said, voice pitched in an encouraging tone. Namjoon snapped back to himself in another rush, though this one a little less literal. The shifter’s neck felt abruptly hot and he took his hands off the other man’s shoulders, back straightening as he caught a second wind.
“Yeah... sorry about that.” Namjoon muttered, also focusing on his feet as he reigned himself back to the present. Willing his racing pulse to slow, he cautiously took a shuffling step, and while wobbly, didn’t fall this time.
The prince’s arm fell back, leaving him on his own as he took another step, a little more sure. Then another. He was doing it. He could walk again! A smile, unsure and unpracticed lifted his mouth as he wobbled around the room. He managed a full circle, using the wall when needed and coming back to the other side of the bed.
Catching the wooden post of the mattress’ frame, he felt the smile widen, and looked up to Yoongi, a little bit giddy. The man was watching him, eyes dancing, and when he caught the shifter’s gaze the prince’s face split in an answering little grin. The positive reaction made Namjoon feel somehow lighter, and he came around the bed to make another circuit.
An arm reached out and halted him, and Yoongi was shaking his head.
“That is enough for now.” He stated gently, and Namjoon frowned. Had he failed in some way?
“No, I must practice-“ but Yoongi interrupted him but pushing the taller back slightly. Namjoon’s knees bent with hardly any resistance, and he was sitting on the bed where he started. The shorter man’s hand stayed on his shoulder a moment, willing him not try rising again. The shifter glared at Yoongi, perplexed and annoyed.
“You haven’t forgotten how to walk, skin changer, you’re recovering. You’ll hurt yourself if you push it.” The royal countered, though not unkindly. Namjoon felt like he’d been hit in the face with a cold wind, blinking several times. For it struck him that this was the first time someone had said such a thing to him. That someone had sounded... concerned for his wellbeing without ulterior motive. He had glimpsed it before from the prince, but the realization itself was startling.
He nodded dumbly, and Yoongi took it as acceptance, allowing his hand to drop. It left the shifter’s shoulder feeling strangely cold in its absence.
-
It took Namjoon five more days before he convinced Yoongi to let him venture out of his room, but finally, the prince had conceded. The shifter currently stood eagerly in his room, awaiting the Yoongi’s return.
Sure enough, a few moments later, the familiar creak of the door sounded, and the royal stepped into sight, a folded pile of fabric in one hand. He arched his brows in amusement at the Namjoon’s fidgety stance and dropped the clothes he carried onto the bed. At the shifter’s quizzical stare, he lifted a shoulder.
“That robe is fine for this room, but if you’re going into the outer halls you will need something heavier. Not all of this place is so well heated as these chambers.” He stated, picking a more heavily woven outer garment off the stack and holding it up.
“I am not so fragile as a human.” Namjoon sniffed, frowning at the delay. The royal didn’t look impressed.
“Maybe not when you’re healthy. Your body has enough to deal with right now without adding a fever which could easily have been prevented.” Yoongi said dryly, still holding up the robe to him. Namjoon grimaced, still not convinced. The prince just stepped closer, extending the clothing to him.
“Do you want to get better or not?”
A part of the shifter almost said no. A small part. A dangerous part. A part that would rather not think about what he must do when he did recover. A part that wanted to forget his reason for being here. A part he half listened to now, squashing the thoughts and grabbing the over-robe if only to stop his host’s nagging.
Yoongi looked pleased he’d made his point, and waited for Namjoon to shrug on the almost coat-like apparel, which the shifter did with a wince as the motion flexed a few stiff muscles and sore wounds. He was doing well considering, but he wasn’t all better yet. The prince reached out and adjusted how it sat upon Namjoon’s shoulders without seeming to give it much thought, before turning and leading the way out with a motion of his head in signal for the other to follow.
The shifter was taken aback for hardly the first time, unsure how to receive or react to those little gestures of Yoongi’s. The prince didn’t seem to expect any response, so he made no comment, but they kept catching him off guard. He wasn’t used to that being done with a pleasant outcome. He shook himself, starting a little jerkingly after the departing royal.
Walking, while still not terribly easy, had become tolerable with a few days ‘practice’. The fact the basic action continued to take a concerted effort told Namjoon just how far he had yet to go before he was in fighting shape. Still, he could keep up with Yoongi, which was all he needed for the moment. He was finally going to be able to see this building in which he’d been housed.
The shifter hadn’t been able to see much from his little window, only an expanse of treetops so dark and thick one felt as if they could step out onto them, even in the midst of leafless winter. That and the sheer wall of the tower bellow the sill. He thought the place was nothing more than a lone tower hidden in the forest, yet as they traveled around the crescent hall leading to his room, he saw something out of a passing window that abruptly changed his mind.
He came to a halt and turned, leaning up to the glass to gaze over the sight that lay without. This window faced the opposite direction of his own, and looked down upon a considerable courtyard and the tall buildings and spires of the rest of the castle.
The whole place was huge!
And almost on par with that of his king’s. Covered in a thick blanket of snow, the roofs and dips extended some ways around, and while some of the further reaches looked to be in some disrepair, the structures immediately surrounding this corner tower were solid and enclosed.
Namjoon heard a sound behind him, and turned to spot Yoongi watching him, amusement tugging at the corners of the man’s eyes.
“Would you like a tour?” He inquired, and received an enthusiastic nod. The prince’s mouth quirked and he extended an arm. The shifter frowned at it but Yoongi didn’t lower it.
“There are quite a few steps coming, skin changer. It would be a shame if you took a tumble before you had a chance to explore.” He stated, mock sadness lacing his words. Namjoon huffed and walked over, taking the proffered arm.
“I would think you’d be glad to be rid of the nuisance.” He commented as they began. The prince shot him a sideways glance, but kept going.
“That could only be possible if I found your presence unpleasant.” He replied coolly. Now it was the shifter’s turn to look aside at him, almost missing the next step, but Yoongi’s gaze was down as he murmured “Steady...” and corrected Namjoon’s balance with a subtle tug of their linked arms. The shifter’s mouth pressed into a line as he returned his own attention to his footing, mulling that over. He’d never really considered that someone could enjoy being around him. Most people he met face to face he killed. Didn’t make for a great start to many conversations.
It took a while to reach the base of the stairwell, not surprising given the height of the tower, and Yoongi made sure he took a break halfway down on a little landing. He was grateful for it, even if he didn’t admit it, and his excitement carried him through his already mounting weariness when they arrived. He let go of the prince’s arm, taking a couple steps forward before remembering he had no idea where he was going, and looking back to await the royal to take the lead.
Yoongi smiles faintly, shaking his head at something, before gesturing and setting forth.
It turned out the shifter didn’t have much energy after the descent, so they didn’t cover the whole place. But he did get to see the great ball room, dining hall, kitchen and a few back corridors and storage areas that held everything from vegetables to leather working supplies. The prince insisted they stop in the kitchens for food, and when Namjoon’s stomach rumbled at the idea, he couldn’t fathom any reason to fight the other man.
It was the first time he ate a meal with Yoongi. The prince had always been present while he ate. The royal brought him the food after all, but this time the other sat with him at a small table in back of the serving area with a plate of his own. The daylight was fading, and the prince lit a lamp between them, taking his time and occasionally watching the shifter.
Namjoon found he didn’t mind, even when they lapsed into complete silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable like it was with the servants who stopped talking whenever he passed them, nor as morbid as the silence after he dispatched a target. This was... this was nice, he decided.
There was something calming about the prince. A steady quality in his presence that left one feeling more at ease. Not for the first time, the shifter found himself sneaking glanced at the other, now lit in flickering shadows cast by the lamp, trying to imagine Yoongi attacking his king, then running. As every time before, the images just didn’t make sense to Namjoon’s brain. This prince just didn’t seem the type. As if, were he to indeed attempt to kill someone, he’d either succeed or go out trying. He didn’t seem someone who did things half arsed.
Namjoon frowned into his bread. Why was he suddenly thinking as if he knew this person? Humans were fickle and unpredictable, and he was no judge of character. It wasn’t a skill he needed for his missions. It meant judging for himself, and he didn’t need that. His king was the judge of people, and Namjoon the bow and arrow he used to deal out sentences.
A bow and arrow didn’t need to think.
The train of thought sobered his mood, and he finished his meal with a little less energy than he’d begun. Yoongi noticed, at least in part.
“Tired?” He asked, his own food polished off. The prince currently sat back, a mug of some strong smelling dark liquid cradled in one hand. The man looked like he could belong in this back room as much as any other place he wanted, cool and relaxed. It was a little humorous to Namjoon, knowing the human’s rank.
The shifter nodded, pushing his plate back. It wasn’t a lie, he was weary, the sullen nag of the reminder of his place in this whole situation had just stolen the excitement that had kept him going.
Yes, he suddenly felt very, very tired. His head lulled, a nearly healed cut on his neck letting out a faint twinge that he barely noticed. His mind was growing foggy alarmingly quickly, and he let out a little sigh as his shoulders slumped. He heard a gusty exhalation across from him.
“You’ve done well today, skin changer... go ahead. Rest.” Came Yoongi’s murmur, the man’s low drawling thrum of a voice not helping Namjoon stave off sleep. He dimly heard a chair scrape, and a presence beside him. Before the shifter could think it over, he felt his body tip into the prince, who caught him with a startled breath and “Woah!..”
Namjoon’s eyes slipped closed as an arm steadied his shoulders, and his consciousness sank away. Vaguely, he didn’t know how long after, he surfaced enough to note that he was swaying faintly... he was leaning on something... and he was moving without his legs touching the ground...
Carried... he was being carried... all his strained mind cared about was that his head rested against something warm, and that the rest of him was warm... and just like that, deep slumber pulled him back under...