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Chapter Text

Namjoon should have seen this coming, he supposed. It had been foolish to venture into these woods without backup, but then again, traveling in company had never been his style. He was the king’s lone wolf, a solitary hunter for his sovereign to set loose at his will to track his enemies down. Even if this particular hunt was a bit different than most.

So here he lay, claws clenched tight in pain, blood pooling beneath his heaving chest and aching limbs to dye the trampled snow bright red. The bodies of his opponents, a band of forest goblins and their hellhounds were scattered about him, evidence of his struggle littering their bodies just as much as theirs did his own. Their own black ichor seeping into the disturbed white ground cover. A few still wheezed their last breaths, but they would soon cease. His real concern was the three remaining goblins, still alive and well who had hung back from the fight as the others took the brunt of Namjoon’s attack.

They were stalking closer, the sickly grins spreading over their ugly faces evidence that they had realized he was now defenseless. Their retched companions had tipped their weapons in something that numbed his senses and stilled his limbs. As if the blood loss wasn’t enough. He still had the energy to bare his fangs and growl at them though, and that he did.

The creatures flinched back, the one hound they kept between them letting out a returning grumble. Evidently the canine beast was better at smelling a bluff than it’s handlers. Ah well, it was worth a try...

Namjoon tried, he really did. He strained to move, to get up and fight, and merely groaned. A single finger twitch was all the reward he received for his efforts.

Well, he certainly hadn’t foreseen this being his ultimate demise. The shifter had envisioned something a little more epic. Maybe some great monster the king sent him after that finally proved too much. At least then his death would be something to speak about. Far better than this humiliating defeat at the hands of common bandits in the Blackwoods’ depths.

The hound closed the distance to Namjoon’s prone form, the goblins, cowards as they were letting their pet do the work for them. There was always the chance this werebeast could rise in a final attack after all. He had taken out the rest of their pack single handed, there was really no telling.

Namjoon could actually smell the hellhound’s fetid breath when a low whistle sounded through the trees. Abruptly, the foul canine’s eager panting was cut off with a high pitched whine, an arrow sprouting from its rib cage. It fell with a high keen. The goblins went rigid, then panicked in a burst of motion that sent two of them careening into each other in an almost comical fashion. Another low whistle, and another dark arrow impaled the two goblins through their throats, tip fully emerging on the other side.

The last goblin had already cut and run, making for the shadows of the deep woods. He didn’t make it far before a third and final arrow ripped into his back, and he fell with an unpleasant gurgle to join the bodies already littering the forest floor.

Namjoon’s heart raced somehow sluggishly, too weary and literally drained for adrenaline to kick in, but fading senses on as high alert as he could make them go. And he waited. Waited for the final arrow. The burst of pain followed by inevitable darkness. What muscles he could control pulled taught.

But it never came, silence reigning in the partial clearing. Dull winter sunlight drifted down through the thick canopy of bare branches above him, lighting the still scene shrouded in a bizarre and sudden serenity.

Namjoon felt his consciousness begin to slip, the abrupt lack of immediate conflict and his wounds overwhelming his tired mind. Yet he heard it, barely. The quiet crunch of footsteps through the thick snow. They came from the same direction as the arrows.

Namjoon tried to stay awake, stay cognizant. He really did, but his rebellious, battered body defied his attempts. The steps drew closer, and he could do nothing to prepare or defend himself. Even as his vision tunneled, a form entered it, hazy and dark against the pale sky. They were hooded and cloaked, a quiver strung over their back, and he could make out little else as his eyelids flickered closed. He was dimly aware of the presence kneeling beside him, knees brushing his side as a hand touched his neck, checking his thready pulse.

The last thing the shifter remembered before the blackness claimed him was a low, pleasantly husky voice murmuring “Well... you’re in a right state, aren’t you.”

-

It’s not that Namjoon didn’t expect to wake up, so much as he had been unconscious, and thus unable to expect anything. But needless it say it came as a rather unpleasant surprise when his thoughts bubbles up through the haze of nothingness.

While finding himself alive in and of itself wasn’t bad, the unpleasant part was the pain that had brought him around.

Of which there was an abundance.

Namjoon felt a groan work its way up his throat, but it made no sound as it left his parched mouth. Everything hurt. From his toes to his ear tips tingled with sensation like a thousand pricking needles, and areas of particular throbbing heat were what he knew to be the knife, claw and bite wounds inflicted by his attackers.

His attackers. He’d been attacked, nearly killed. He wasn’t safe.

Abruptly his mind cleared, his eyes flew open and his muscles locked despite the harsh protest he received for the action. He wasn’t safe, he needed to get away, to safety, off the biting snow-

Wait.

He wasn’t laying on snow. He wasn’t even laying on the ground. Namjoon’s brain stumbled and backtracked, trying to catch up with his current circumstances. What he saw above him was not the dull clouds and winter sky, but a dark wood ceiling and two wooden posts stretching into his line of sight. Bed posts. He was on a bed, the plush mattress molding and cradling his battered body, easing some of the tension from him.

And he was warm, blissfully so. His tattered clothing was gone, replaced with soft blankets pulled over his lower half, his upper left bare. And when he twitched, managing to tilt his heavy head down, he saw the soft white of bandages wrapping his chest and arms, stark against his tanned skin. He could feel them on his legs and head as well. Another thing he saw with the adjustment was his claws, and the rough hide of his half shift, flesh rippling with short fur.

Of course, he hadn’t had time to shift back when he’d blacked out. Which did explain the nagging tingling to a degree. Namjoon focused, eyes closing as a rumbling grunt escaped him, and the inhuman features faded away. The shifter let out the breath he’d been holding in a wheeze. That had taken more out to him that such a simple thing should have. He suspected he had his damaged body to thank for that.

More importantly. Where the hell was he?!

It baffled him, truly. How could he have gotten... wherever this was? He’d been in the middle of the Blackwood, the darkest forest in the realms, had informed no one of his plans, and the last person he’d seen was-

A door clicked and sudden steps sounded, Namjoon’s eyes snapping shut on instinct as he attempted to imitate his previous comatose state.

The last person he’d seen was the strange hooded archer who had taken out his opponents. He couldn’t go so far as to say that the mystery individual had saved him, as he had no idea if he’d meant to keep him alive, but there was no one else it could have been- could be now. Unless the archer had friends...

Whoever had entered the room came to a stop upon, he assumed, seeing him, and Namjoon heard them let out a quiet sigh. Glass clinked as something was set down on... a dresser he would guess by the proximity.

“Still asleep, aye? Can’t say I blame you I guess.” A deep voice murmured to itself, and Namjoon recalled the same voice from just before he’d slipped away. It was the same individual than. He had to fight not to give in to his curiosity and open his eyes yet, feeling the mattress dip slightly as the stranger presumably sat on the edge. Water sloshed, then plinked in an uneven pattern, and a wet cloth brushed Namjoon’s forehead, where he hadn’t even noticed sweat breaking out.

Had the stranger taken him in? Patched him up? But why... Most in the realms wouldn’t help a random nobody then met in the woods, especially not a magical creature. Then again, most in the realms didn’t go around shooting arrows with terrifying accuracy and killing three goblins and a hound in under a minute.

The touch of the cloth was a little clumsy, brisk, but got the job done. It was only when the mystery person moved to inspect the bandages on the side of Namjoon’s neck that they paused, and the shifter could guess why.

Fingers felt for his pulse, before the person let out a quiet huff, and their weight shifted slightly away from him.

“Very amusing. You can quit screwing your eyes shut now.” A slight reprimand lingered in the tone this time, and Namjoon stiffened again, slowly cracking his lids open.

He was met with liquid brown eyes staring back, set in a sharp set of features and overhung but ruffled black hair. Striking, unfamiliar and yet... he felt as if he should know this person. But nothing came to mind as the stranger pressed their lips into a line, and quirked one dark brow.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” The man intoned dryly, leaning away to set his damp cloth on a tray placed by the bedside. Namjoon stared, weary thoughts trying to pull together and form enough links to respond. It took a while. After all, this was an utterly unprecedented situation, at least to him.

Here he lay, in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar place, with an unfamiliar individual showing him unfamiliar care, and he simply didn’t know how to deal with it. So he parted his cracked lips and said the first question that came to mind.

“W-who...?” It came out more of a croak than an actual word, and the mystery man frowned faintly, reaching for something even as he replied, having apparently made the question out.

“The name’s Yoongi. Here.”

Huh. The same name as the prince. It wasn’t an uncommon name, he supposed.

Leaning back into Namjoon’s line of vision, ‘Yoongi’ leaned over him, and the shifter felt strong hands clasp his shoulders as the other man adjusted his position to ease Namjoon up, quickly placing pillows behind him to keep the injured elevated. The shifter let out a hiss of pain as multiple wounds let their distaste at the movement be known, and ‘Yoongi’ just nodded.

“It hurts, but it would hurt more if you choked. Here.”

Namjoon wasn’t fully sat up, but he did have a better view now, and watched as Yoongi reached for and retrieved a wooden cup from his tray, which he lifted to the shifter’s mouth himself. Namjoon immediately sealed his lips, caution front and center in his mind. The mysterious man actually full rolled his eyes at him, keeping the cup raised.

“It’s just water. If I’d wanted to kill you there are and have been so many better ways. Such as, oh I don’t know, leaving you in the snow where I found you. At ease, skin-changer.” He drawled.

Namjoon blinked, considering that. The man was right, he supposed. With a silent prayer to whatever powers might listen that his actions weren’t merely a pain addled mistake, the shifter slowly opened his mouth and let Yoongi pour a few sips of water in. It was indeed cool, pure water and it washed over his burning mouth and throat like a rain over a deprived desert. It took no small amount of control not to gulp it down, but he did finish what was in the cup.

Yoongi looked satisfied, lowering it and placing it aside. Namjoon ignored the tug of humiliation in his gut at not even being able to lift his arms, instead trying his voice again.

“Where?” Was his question this time, and now his voice came out rusty, but far more stable. He wanted to know how far from the prince’s trail he’d been taken. He would need to resume his mission soon if he wanted any hope of finding the king’s prey. Perhaps he should have elaborated, but Yoongi seemed to get what he asked. The other man lifted a shoulder, rising from the bed and walking to a window previously unobserved by Namjoon. He drew back the drapes, allowing soft light to filter in and add to what the candles in their wall sconces struggled to do in illumination.

“I could not give you coordinates, but you are still within the Blackwood.” Yoongi said over his shoulder, peering out into the air. They must have been quite high to see without being impeded by treetops, and Namjoon saw snow flakes drift past the window in a gentle dance. Something about the other man’s profile struck another curious jolt of not fully realized recognition in him, and the shifter felt his mouth turn down in a frown.

Yoongi was... well he wasn’t what Namjoon expected to be behind those deadly arrows he supposed. The man was unremarkable in height, and somewhat slim, though his broads shoulders and casual grace betrayed skill and doubtless muscle hidden by his flowing garments, a simple set of robes in the style of their realm and court, though from plain and practical fabrics.

And his face... it was. Well, it was attractive, Namjoon could admit. Somehow feline in the shape of the eyes, nose and mouth. But there was something he just couldn’t put his finger on-

And it struck like a lightning bolt, the flash of memory flooding back of a portrait, fairly new, impeccably painted and framed on the wall of his king’s own great hall. Right beside those of the sovereign himself, just as the image of the heir to the realm should be.

He didn’t need to get up and go find the trail to his target, the one whom the king himself had sent him to kill. He needn’t search every dark corner and loose rock for his quarry. The object of his mission, his order of assassination had found him, saved him, taken him in and tended his wounds.

This man’s name wasn’t just the same as the prince’s, he was in fact thee crown prince Min Yoongi. Heir to the goddamn throne, would-be usurper, and... And the very individual Namjoon had been sent to dispatch stood no more than 10 feet from him, completely oblivious.

Chapter Text

After Namjoon lapsed into shocked silence, Yoongi, the prince mistook it as fatigue, allowing no further questions as he made sure the injured shifter drank a little more water, ate some sort of herb that soothed his aches, and eased him back down. Perhaps the prince had been on to something, because despite his racing thoughts, Namjoon was out cold seconds after his head was back on the pillows.

-

When he woke again, his first thought was ‘fever dream’. But opening his eyes revealed the same shadowy room, soft bed and quiet calmness that hung over the place. Namjoon stared up at the ceiling, mulling over what he knew while experimentally flexing his fingers.

There wasn’t a lot of choice in current events. His liege had ordered him to kill prince Yoongi, so he must obey. But he had been attacked, incapacitated, and could barely move even though he had found his target. Well, his target had found him he reminded himself. It turned his stomach. He owed this prince his life now, no matter the man’s intentions. But his duty was to his king.

At least he was spared this decision for the moment, rendered immobile by his weakened body. He would need to bide his time until he was strong enough to make his move, which judging by the prince’s archery and demeanor, might require Namjoon being able to fully function. Whatever Yoongi’s loyalties, he was strong.

The shifter was abruptly distracted as his stomach let out a loud rumbling growl, and he glanced down at himself. He was... thin. Thinner than when he set out on this journey. Thinner than when he’d fallen to the goblin pack. He frowned... how long had he been unconscious...?

As if answering some unspoken prayer, the heavy wooden door to the room swung open, revealing the prince. He bore another tray, though this one contained a steaming bowl and mug. Yoongi’s robes were different from last time, so at least a day had passed since the shifter fell asleep. He frowned as the prince strode in, the other setting the tray down and glancing at Namjoon. He looked vaguely pleased to see his eyes already open.

“Ah, good. You’re awake. Hungry?”

Namjoon opened his mouth to voice protest, somehow loathed to show any more vulnerability in front of the person he was supposed to kill. However, before he could get any words out the scent of whatever was inside the bowl reached him, light and savory. His stomach let out another gurgle, and Namjoon’s mouth closed into an indignant line.

The corners of the prince’s mouth twitched, and he sat on the edge of the bed to lift the shifter as he had before. Namjoon’s gut twisted at having to be helped with even such a little action, though this time he found his arms responded enough for him to help the process. Once he was sat upright, Yoongi retrieved the mug first, eyeing his patient.

“Think you can hold it?” He asked, dark brow arched.

“Yes.” Namjoon immediately replied, lifting his achingly stiff arms to take the vessel. His fingers twitched and moved, coming around to grip the warm cup, as the prince eased his own back. For a split second, it worked, and the shifter was about to let out a sigh when his wrists locked and spasmed, the mug dropping from nerveless fingers. Namjoon winced, both from pain and the expectancy of hot liquid over his legs, but it never came.

Yoongi must have seen this coming, or at least guessed, his hands shooting out to catch the cup before it could tip. He let out a relieved sound, adjusting as he looked back at Namjoon.

“Not yet, perhaps.” He murmured.

Namjoon scowled, refusing to meet his target’s eyes as the other raised the mug to him. When he didn’t move to accept, he heard a low sigh.

“The faster you drink and eat, the faster you will recover, skin changer. There is no shame in it.” He stated calmly. Somehow the reassurance only served to make Namjoon’s stubbornness rear its head, but his logic and common sense fought it back as he looked up. The prince was watching him.

Namjoon averted his gaze as he accepted the drink, draining half of the contents, a brisk tea, before it was set aside and the bowl took its place. Broth. Without moving his glare from the wall, Namjoon asked a new question.

“Why?”

The movement beside him paused, and he felt prince Yoongi’s gaze on him.

“Why what?” He replied. Namjoon’s mouth turned down.

“Why help me.” He gritted, reluctant, but overwhelmingly baffled and curious.

There was silence for a moment.

“Why not?” The other finally hummed, proffering the bowl of broth. Namjoon made no move to accept it, glancing reproachfully at the man for the ambiguous answer. The prince rolled his eyes. He seemed to do that a lot.

“I’m not about to let travelers, however foolish, die on my doorstep.” He huffed, and some of Namjoon’s confusion must have shown on his face, as the prince elaborated. “You were attacked fair within sight of this place, skin changer. It may not be completely mine to claim, but as I live here I could hardly sit back and do nothing.”

He could have.

Most would have.

The further explanation only left Namjoon with more questions, and by the time Yoongi left the room, bowl and mug empty, he was feeling extremely disoriented. The prince was nothing like Namjoon imagined. In all his time as his King’s subject, he’d never laid eyes on this prince, only heard the rumors. It was said the son of the king never came out of his rooms, a recluse and scholar. Some had heard gossip that perhaps he was too hideous to be allowed in public, speaking of some accident in his youth. It must have left him horribly disfigured, they said, and that tapestry in the hall was fake.

Namjoon didn’t interact with the royal family much to begin with, despite living in the palace. His orders came by a runner boy the king sent to his quarters in the castle’s underground corridors. His travels took him out through back streets and secret passages, away from the bustling court. Nor had he ever had much inclination to socialize with nobles after watching them during his quests. Needless to say the only direct experience he had with them was the orders from his King, and the people his King told him to assassinate.

Thus, when he’d been told by the King that the prince had tried to kill his father to usurp the throne, before failing and fleeing, Namjoon really hadn’t given it much thought. He had no reason to doubt the story, nor desire to question his liege.

He’d had only vague imaginings for this target. He knew what he looked like, or at least he remembered now. The man’s demeanor however was odd. Namjoon knew nobles to be self absorbed, standoffish, and in general rude to those beneath their station. Were he being honest, it wasn’t as if he had much to go on with the prince’s brief visits. But he had been nothing but practical and patient thus far.

It all seemed so confusing that Namjoon’s mind went on a little rabbit chase, wondering if this man was in fact not the prince. That perhaps the prince really had been disfigured and this strange man was the one the painter for the royal family had used in his place when illustrating the prince’s portrait. Maybe the fact his name was the same as the royal heir’s really was just a crazy coincidence.

It was plausible, he supposed.

Abruptly Namjoon let out a disgruntled huff into the silence. His brain must still be addled by pain or whatever herb the prince gave him to dull it. Tiredly, he willed his thoughts and breathing to slow, closing his eyes to let the blissful void of sleep overtake him.

-

The next time Namjoon woke, the rosy hues of evening were coming in through his window. He turned his head as the door closed behind the prince. His tray was more full than usual, an odd box placed beside the bowl and cup.

The man sat down the same as before, and tried giving Namjoon the mug again. This time he could hold it, if shakily. The prince watched the shifter for a moment, then grasped the box and opened it. White linen strips were rolled neatly within, and Namjoon realized they were bandages. He sipped mutely at the tea until the prince unceremoniously threw off his covers. A surprised grunt left the shifter as his legs were bared, and he was acutely thankful for the breechcloth that saved some small fraction of his dignity.

Prince Yoongi paid him no mind, setting to work lifting one leg and undoing the bandage wrapped around the shifter’s calf, half stained with blood. Upon closer inspection, Namjoon realized most of his bindings were stained red and uncomfortably crusty. He grimaced into the cup as the last bit of the one on his leg was pulled free, taking a few hairs with it.

The prince didn’t seem phased by the ugly gashes left exposed to the air, idly handing Namjoon the bowl of broth as he went about cleaning the wound, smoothing on a strange green paste and rewrapping it. His work was deft, almost gentle. The shifter watched him curiously, wincing faintly as the bindings tightened.

“Why does a pri- a hunter know the healing arts?” He asked, catching himself midway through. It was half to distract himself as the prince moved to his other leg, where a knife had slashed the shifter’s lower thigh. Few nobles in his experience took the time for such things, and it was clear the man had practice.

“Necessity.” Was all the reply he got, and his brows arched. What reason could a sheltered prince have that would require him to learn medicine? Now that he thought about it, why was the other so adept at archery? His shots had been aimed truer than some of the realm’s best marksmen.

Prince Yoongi didn’t look keen on elaborating, finishing the leg and taking the now empty bowl from Namjoon, signaling the shifter to move his arms aside so he could get at the bandages around his middle. This one took longer to undo, and required the shifter to hold himself away from the pillows to let the prince unwind the linen strips. It throbbed, but he managed.

“This is so much easier when you’re awake.” The prince commented, smearing the cool salve over several more ragged knife wounds and an unpleasant set of fang marks. When Namjoon shot him a bemused look, prince Yoongi’s nose scrunched.

“You’re heavy.” Was all he said, setting to rewrapping the shifter’s chest. This involved him extending around several times, arms near encircling Namjoon as he reached about him, and the shifter really didn’t know where to look when the royal’s cheek was near pressed against his bare chest. It distracted enough that he had no response for the other man’s lighthearted statement.

It was bizarre in the extreme, being cared for like this. And unsettling, he thought, trying to subtly observe as prince Yoongi moved to finish with his arms and head till all his wounds were freshly bandages, the strange salve doing wonders to ease the pain of them. Just sitting here, knowing his intent was to kill this individual who currently strived to help him had begun to turn Namjoon’s stomach.

Feeling oddly ashamed, the shifter could not bring himself to offer any thanks as the prince left, laying back with a huff and letting the soft pillows claim him.

-

Perhaps trying to get up after only two meals and being intermittently conscious for three days wasn’t his best idea. Namjoon hadn’t exactly been on a streak of intelligent decisions recently, but this one somehow struck him as the most humiliating. After all, it had landed him on the goddamn floor, curled on his side in pain as his body let its outrage at his actions be known.

He allowed himself to let out a low whine at the sharp reports from his muscles and wounds, beginning to wonder how he was going to be able to get back /on/ the bed before he was found like this. Too late, he heard the door open with a little more force than usual, and a sharp intake of breath.

Footsteps came closer and prince Yoongi was kneeling into his field of vision.

“What- did you try to get up?” The royal asked, hesitating as he reached out. Namjoon made a sound in the affirmative and prince Yoongi’s expression morphed from concern to exasperation.

“Dumbarse.” He stated, and despite everything, Namjoon felt his eyebrows shoot up in indignation. If he wasn’t in so much pain, he might have been insulted. He didn’t need some upstart prince telling him that. He was miserable enough already.

Prince Yoongi let out a sigh, then held up his hands.

“This will hurt, but it’ll be worse to leave you on the floor.” He said coolly. The shifter felt confused, struggling to catch up until he felt the royal slide his arms under Namjoon, before his consciousness kicked into high alert. Oh no- wait-

He let out a surprised, pained growl as he was abruptly lifted, the shorter man supporting him behind his back and under his knees. Really, the shifter was half shocked prince Yoongi could even scoop him up like that. Before he had time to register what had happened fully, he was deposited back on the plush bed. A gusty breath escaped him as he sank gratefully into it, willing his limbs to relax one by one.

Then he looked up to see prince Yoongi eying him reproachfully, and he froze, like a child caught doing they weren’t supposed to.

“Do you realize the condition you’re in?” The prince grumbled, arms folded and his mouth turned down. Namjoon felt his ire rise to match the royal’s, and his jaw set.

“Aye,” he snapped, “it’s rather hard to forget.”

“Well you’re not going to improve any faster if you pull stunts like that.” Yoongi retorted, eyes flashing. Strangely enough, Namjoon got the impression that the man’s anger wasn’t exactly at him, he just seemed frustrated. It was a feeling Namjoon was growing more and more familiar with.

“I hate being this helpless!” He burst out, grinding his teeth. It was useless, perhaps even foolhardy to let so much show to the aim of his mission. But the shifter had never felt so out of control, and with his fighting ability being the only thing that had given him value and kept him alive this long, it’s sudden absence sent him reeling into uncertainty.

The royal’s features relaxed, and he let his arms unwind, running a hand through his dark hair. Then he met Namjoon’s eyes.

“You must have patience, skin changer. Rest, and your strength will return.” Yoongi murmured, the harsh edge gone as he stepped closer, idly rearranging the bed covers over the shifter. Heat crept into Namjoon’s cheeks, and he turned his head away, overwhelmingly chagrined all at once.

The prince took his silence in stride, finishing his task, telling the shifter he’d be back soon with something for the pain and exiting the room without another word, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

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...

Chapter Text

When Namjoon regained consciousness, sunlight was shafting onto his pillow, bright in his bleary eyes as he blinked awake. His face scrunched against the sudden brightness, before he realized that it was... odd. The window of his room faced the north, and never got direct sunlight like that. Nor would it be in his eyes...

Then he noticed the smell. Not a stench, but a subtle scent that was not his own in the pillows and covers around him. This... this wasn’t his bed. A stiff hand came slowly up to shield his eyes as the shifter squinted at what he could see, and he started.

Across from him, slumped in a large armchair sat Yoongi, the seat just out of the way of the window. The prince’s head was tilted to the side, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes shut. The man was sound asleep, his soft breaths becoming audible as Namjoon’s hearing checked in.

The shifter stared in confusion, then glanced around the room. Indeed, it wasn’t his, and now that he thought about it, this scent of pine wood and crushed herbs... These must be Yoongi’s quarters. But why was he-

Abruptly Namjoon wanted to dash for and jump out the window. He had fallen asleep before returning to his chambers the night before, and by the bloody gods the prince had carried him again. Apparently here, wherever this room was.

He gazed almost balefully at the other’s sleeping form, until the annoyance was chipped away by curiosity. He peered closer, interested to see this new side of the ever composed royal.

Asleep, Yoongi’s sharp features softened immensely, making him look years younger. The controlled calm the prince always carried melted to serenity, his chest rising and falling slowly, eyelids fluttered with some unknown dream.

“Cute, isn’t he?” A voice said behind Namjoon.

The shifter was so startled he jerked, rolled and actually fell clean off the mattress. Hitting the stone floor with a painful thud on his back, he stared wide eyed back at the bed, very very awake and bristling.

He heard rustling and scrambled back, catching a break in breathing rhythm as the noise started to rouse Yoongi, but all his attention was currently on the unfamiliar figure who had stuck their- well, his head over the side of the bed, expression worried.

“Woah there! You alright?” The stranger inquired, blond hair bright in the light of morning.

The figure was slim, slightly gangly form swamped in an over large set of robes and oddly energetic, bouncing faintly even as he awaited Namjoon’s response, head tilted as his gaze swept the shifter for damage.

Namjoon could only nod once, jerkily, reeling and overwhelmingly confused. The man gave a wide smile at that, lips stretching into a shape resembling a heart. Who was this? How did he get there? Why hadn’t the shifter sensed him?!

“Hoseok... I thought we discussed you startling people like that.” A familiar voice said behind Namjoon, tone rough from slumber. A creak sounded and a hand rested lightly on the shifter’s shoulder. He twitched as Yoongi crouched beside him, the other eying him with concern before standing and giving him a hand up. Namjoon didn’t take his eyes of the intruder for even a moment.

‘Hoseok’ frowned- well, it was more of a pout, swinging his legs off the bed and jackknifing to his feet.

“It’s your fault for not introducing me, Yoongi. Honestly, you didn’t even give him any warning? For shame.” the stranger tutted, folding his hands behind himself. The prince shot the man a deadpan look.

“I wanted to wait until he had the energy to handle you.” He said dryly, which only got him a grin from the other.

“He seems pretty energetic to me! You guys were all over the place last night.” Hoseok hummed, then turned to Namjoon. “Anyhow! Nice to meet you! My name is Hoseok.” He added, cutting a little bow. Yoongi let out a sigh beside them, stepping away from the two while cracking his neck, apparently leaving Namjoon to his own devices. Great.

The shifter cleared his throat, unsure if he should return the bow. Formal greetings weren’t really in his training.

“Uh... hello.” He said cautiously, but the other was already examining him unabashedly.

“Who... are you?” The shifter asked haltingly, rolling his shoulders. Now that his sudden adrenaline rush was vanishing, he was starting to feel his tumble off the bed, aches and sore wounds letting their presence be known.

“I’m the castle keeper!” Hoseok said jauntily, grinning wide still. This man smiled a lot. “I’m a brownie, to be precise. I inhabit this place, keep things in order and keep the old stone pile from collapsing!”

Namjoon blinked, perplexed.

“But you’re as large as a human.” The shifter had heard of brownies, though he’d thought them an old wives’ tale. Plus, the house spirits were always described as small, fae creatures. Yoongi, still stretching off to the side let out a snort. Hoseok just chuckled.

“Have you seen this place, boy? The castle is rather large, thus, so am I!” He explained, throwing his arms wide in an expansive gesture. Namjoon grunted. He guess it made sense. Not like he had the mythical knowledge to argue the point.

“I don’t usually manifest honestly, but you guys were taking fore~ver to wake up, and breakfast is getting cold.” The spirit sniffed. The statement got Yoongi’s attention.

“You cooked?” The prince asked. Hoseok nodded energetically.

“I leaned a bit from watching you, so it should be edible!” The spirit looked proud of the fact, “The point is you gotta eat cause I’m kicking you out for a while. I’m raising the stables and as you know, I can’t guarantee the safety of anything inside while the castle adjusts.”

Yoongi let out a noise of surprise.

“You restored another section of the library a month ago. I thought you needed more time? Besides, isn’t the tower safe?”

The spirit just grinned, grabbing the prince’s wrist and ushering him and Namjoon out the door.

“Aye, but now that there’s more than one life force here, I recharged faster. And the stable is closer than the library so the tower is out too. Now go! Food’s on the dining table!” Hoseok chirped, and as Namjoon turned to ask him what he meant, he felt the hand leave his back and the brownie straight sank into the stone floor with a cheery wave.

The shifter stared in shock, then looked up at Yoongi.

“What just happened?”

The prince let out what sounded like a fond huff, turning and proceeding down the hall, one unfamiliar to Namjoon. The shifter followed, still glancing back at the spot the spirit vanished into.

“Like he said, Hoseok is the castle brownie. They are fae folk that thrive when the home they are bound to is lived in. The castle was once the stronghold of an order of magicians. Something happened to them a few years back, and this place was abandoned, and Hoseok became dormant. My presence woke him, and he’s been healing since. As he heals, so does the castle. Unfortunately the place gets unstable when he works major renovations, so we’ll need to go outside for a while.” the prince explained, turning down another hall, this one Namjoon recognized.

“I... I see.” The shifter muttered, bemused as he took that in. In made sense on some levels, the way Yoongi explained it, just another new thing in a foreign place full of different experiences. It was difficult to keep up but... not unpleasant. It seemed to be a consistent fact with the things here.

Finally, they arrived in the dining hall, the heavy, solid oak table in the center stretching the length of the room. Only two places were set, both at the near end and across from each other. From what Namjoon could see, it was much the same fair as Yoongi had been bringing him since the beginning, a bowl of lightly steaming soup. It made sense if Hoseok had made it with his knowledge of watching Yoongi.

They seated themselves a mite awkwardly, and the meal passed with little comment. Once finished, a faint voice echoed through the hall without direction.

“Out with you!” It chuckled, laughter fading into the air. The voice was Hoseok’s, but the quality of it being all around set Namjoon’s neck hair to standing on end. Yoongi snorted, rising and motioning with his head.

“Come on, that’s our cue.” He sighed, slightly hurrying Namjoon up and towards the main entrance. A crease appeared in the shifter’s brows.

“Why the rush? What does the castle becoming “unstable” mean?” He asked, donning the warm cloak the prince had tossed him from a closet by the door while the other got one for himself. Yoongi opened the door, stepping aside for Namjoon to step through, even when the shifter shot him a disgruntled look. He still wasn’t sure how to handle being treated with care, and had decided to let the confusion morph into annoyance. It was easier than confronting the feeling that warmed his core at the little actions.

“When the place becomes unbalanced, it... tends to shift around. Walls move, floors vanish and reappear. Troublesome stuff that could end you up flattened or buried in stone.” The prince explained, ignoring Namjoon’s indigence. As usual.

The shifter opened his mouth for another question, but it was swept from his thoughts as he stepped out of the palace into the outdoors. His breath was taken, but not just from the sudden rush of chilly air.

Namjoon had always regarded snow with some distaste. It was a troublesome substance that came with uncomfortable cold and an array of troubles for his missions. It was wet and slippery and all round an inconvenience to him. He did his best to avoid it. But here, in this courtyard, in this place of calm, it had taken on an all new collection of features he hadn’t considered before.

Sunlight glinted on the carpet of white, twinkling with every little shift and eddy of the wind. Ice crystals hung from battlements and tree branches in glittering spikes, and soft flakes fell from the sky. One fleck landed on Namjoon’s nose, and he snorted as the crunch of snow alerted him to the prince’s presence beside him. He glanced to the side to see the royal watching him with an expression of slight amusement.

“Feel good to finally be outside again?” He asked. Namjoon felt his shoulders hunch as he looked away. It did. Weeks of being inside without choice, even for his own health had made him more antsy than he’d realized. He didn’t say anything, instead deciding to walk away.

The shifter was heading for a little open roofed, stone pavilion structure across the courtyard and got halfway there before his footing betrayed him. He hit a patch of slippery ice hidden beneath the snow and wobbled dangerously, his weakened legs struggling to recover in time and his arms going out. He heard an intake of breath behind him, followed by the hurried crunch of feet.

Namjoon did manage to regain his balance, letting out a sigh of relief as he righted himself. He turned to tell the prince he was fine, in time to see the other man hit a similar slippery patch.

The royal was not of the same fortune that had favored the shifter, and he unceremoniously toppled forward and face planted in the snow with a muffled “oomph”.

Namjoon couldn’t help it. He should probably check to see if Yoongi was alright, but he looked so strange and ridiculous just then, sprawled in the soft ground cover as disturbed flakes settled onto his back. Just laying there in forlorn defeat...

A chuckle made its way past Namjoon’s lips and he was almost surprised by the sound, even as more followed, his shoulders rising and falling. He stepped closer to the downed prince, leaning over slightly even as a couple more rose into his throat.

“Are- are you okay?” He inquired of the prone form, and got a response in the form of the prince raising his head, cheeks flushed from the cold snow they’d been pressed against. Or at least that’s what the shifter figured. The sight of the normally cool and collected Yoongi just kinda fallen over set Namjoon to chuckling again, the feeling a little strange and new.

The prince shot Namjoon an annoyed look at his obvious amusement. Then he pushed his mouth out in a frown, reached up to the shifter’s wrist and tugged him off balance!

With a surprised grunt, Namjoon fell in a confused pile of limbs next to the royal, the shock of the cold and Yoongi’s actions meaning he suffered much the same face planting fate as the prince had. He recovered quicker however, pulling himself up with a splutter as he shook snow from his hair and shot a glare in Yoongi’s direction.

“Oi!” The shifter growled, ready to snap at the other.

But the prince was not in a way to notice, lips parting as he laughed, letting himself fall back into the snow again. The sound was husky and high, and it sent a little pleasant bubbles popping in Namjoon’s stomach. The feeling was bizarre and the shifter’s brows knit. Had there been something in his breakfast?

Dismissing it, he decided to focus on the issue at hand. Revenge.

Rising into a crouch, Namjoon plunged his hands into the drift of snow beside them and sent a cascade of it down on Yoongi’s unsuspecting head. The prince’s laughter broke off with a spluttering snort, and he sat up, jerking his head to dislodge the snow. Namjoon felt a grin of satisfaction quirk his mouth, and and stood, considering his work done.

Yoongi’s face came up abruptly and he locked challenging eyes on the shifter.

“Is that how you wanna play?” He grumbled, turning and gathering snow. Namjoon didn’t know what he was doing till the prince compressed a handful of snow into a ball and lobbed it at him. The heavy missile caught the shifter in the chest and he stumbled back, more from shock than the actual force of it. The prince was already on his feet, making another snow ball, and Namjoon’s eyes narrowed.

He wanted a fight? Fine.

Their snow battle lasted much longer than the shifter thought possible, neither willing to give ground as they chucked balls of fluffy frozen flakes at one another, dodging and diving for cover with every flurry. In the end they both lay on the ground a few feet from the marble pavilion, covered in snow and breathing hard.

“You’re an admirable opponent, skin changer.” The prince said, what sounded like actual grudging respect for the fact in his voice. Something about how serious the man’s voice had been sent Namjoon into a sudden bout of chuckles. The feeling escalated and then he was laughing, a full bodied action that warmed his chest and sent a fresh flush into his cheeks. He felt... he felt so carefree, so at ease.

By the gods, he’d had fun.

“Namjoon. My name is Namjoon.” He breathed, calming himself as he turned to look at Yoongi. The prince was already looking at him, gaze searching. The man’s eyes always felt like they were piercing right through the shifter, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

That had been a mistake. Why did he give his name? After all this time? Then again, why did it matter? Nobody in the kingdom really knew him anyway. But still, apprehension started to curl in his middle. That is, until a small smile lifted Yoongi’s lips, and he gave a slight nod, turning back to gaze at the sky.

“Namjoon... It is a good name.”

A more intense shiver rippled over the shifter, the feeling of his name falling from Yoongi’s tongue inexplicably nice. It was partly about the fashion in which he said it. Testing, curious, maybe a little pleased. Not spat in malice or sneered in derision. The prince sat up, frowning at Namjoon as concern flickered through his expression.

“You alright? Hell- you must be freezing. Sorry, I didn’t think this through.” He murmured, turning where he sat to face the shifter. Namjoon’s brows knit. Had he wasn’t cold. At least, he didn’t feel that cold. The prince must have misread his shiver as chill rather than... whatever it had been.

“No, I’m not really-“ he began, sitting up. He was cut off abruptly by a startled noise in his own throat as Yoongi took his hands in his own, bringing them close to his face. The royal inspected the reddened, damp fingers and frowned, beginning to rub circulation the shifter didn’t realize he’d lost back into them.

He probably would have protested if his throat hadn’t closed up, leaving him semi frozen in the proverbial sense. He watched as the prince diligently continued rubbing, his own slim fingers just as red but going unaddressed. The confounded man even leaned forward and exhaled a few steaming breaths onto Namjoon’s hands, his ministrations sending warmth prickling back through his limbs.

Indeed, the shifter even felt his face warm, and finally brought himself back enough to tug his hands away, quickly hiding them in his cloak.

“By the gods- I’m fine.” He growled, rising to his feet in a mini cascade of snow that shook free of his cloak in the motion. Yoongi rose as well, brushing at his robes and giving Namjoon a skeptical look.

“Remember what I said about a fever-“ he started, and the shifter made an annoyed slashing motion with his hand.

“I.am.fine.” He reiterated, chin jutting out stubbornly. “I’m not a fragile fairy that broke its wing you have to coddle.”

The prince didn’t look convinced, or impressed, holding his silence as he eyed Namjoon’s now wet cloak. Something about the fact made the shifter’s emotions flare, somehow upset that the other man didn’t believe him. It was a little different than his initial reluctance to be viewed as weak, but with similar roots. Temper rising, Namjoon’s mouth pressed into a line and he abruptly stepped forward.

He didn’t know what inspired it, nor did he remember when he made the decision to act, but he did. Reaching out, he grabbed the prince around his tapered waist and hoisted him bodily into the air.

Yoongi’s eyes went wider than Namjoon had ever seen them, and he let out a rather undignified squeak, hands dropping to lock onto Namjoon’s arms in an attempt to steady himself, legs dangling.

The shifter held the other, elbows bent, high enough that the prince’s head was a few inches above his own. The royal’s face went through an array of confused emotions and his ears began to turn a strangely intriguing shade of pink.

“Ski-skin changer, put me down.” He breathed, surprise robbing his voice of any bite it might have had for a moment. Namjoon found he didn’t really want to. The cuts on his arms burned, and his muscles weren’t too happy about this either, but the flush across Yoongi’s ears was distracting him. Subconsciously, he brought the other a little closer, gaze diverted as the flush spread across the prince’s high cheekbones.

“Oi! I get it! So put me down be-“ the royal tried again. Or, well, he started to try. Unfortunately, that was about the moment Namjoon’s arms decided to call his claim a bluff, and betrayed him all at once. His eyes widened as they gave out, and he could do nothing to stop Yoongi’s fall.

The prince tumbled forward into him, and he was pretty sure he heard the man let out a string of very un-courtlike curses as they went down. There was a loud ‘whomp!’ As they hit the snow, and several sharp reports from the shifter’s limbs at the impact. His eyes were screwed shut, expected the jab of limbs of another body falling on him- but it never came. The only touch was one on the back of his head, and his eyes flew open in confusion.

Yoongi was held above him, knees to either side of the shifter’s hips, one hand braced beside his shoulder to avoid crushing him. His other had managed to loop around the back of Namjoon’s head to hold his skull off the ground, and when Namjoon noted the hard surface of marble just under his shoulders, he realized why. He’d fallen back into the stone pavilion, and the damned man had probably just saved him a cracked cranium.

The prince was panting, likely from an abrupt adrenaline rush rather than actual exertion, and he slowly eased the shifter’s silver head back while slipping his fingers away. He carefully swung one leg up and over and plopped back on his behind with a slump. Then he eyed Namjoon dryly.

“Are-“

“If you ask me if I’m okay, I will shove you into the nearest lake I can find.”

The prince closed his mouth. The shifter’s jaw worked for a moment, as if he was chewing on something.

“But... thank you. And sorry.” He muttered, low and uncertain. Lord, he hated this. The royal beside him let out a puff of breath and rolled his shoulders, not looking terribly offended.

“Listen, Namjoon,” that same little thrill from before made the shifter frown in confusion, but he listened in silence, “I’m not pitying you. I just... want you to get better. I’m sorry if I’ve been overbearing.” Yoongi mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck in an almost sheepish move.

The prince shouldn’t be apologizing. And he certainly shouldn’t hope for Namjoon’s recovery. He wouldn’t, not if he knew...

Namjoon felt the last vestiges of his good mood seep away, and suddenly the cold of the snow was nothing but abrasive. The warmth curling in his middle at the prince’s words turned to a coil of ice that squeezed his insides. He hated the feeling, but he could do nothing about it. He wanted to answer, but he didn’t know how.

He was saved the trouble when a voice echoed cheerily over the courtyard.

“All done folks! Come on in!” Hoseok chimed from... somewhere. Yoongi let out a sigh and got up, turning and wordlessly offering Namjoon a hand. The shifter hated that he took it on reflex.

Chapter Text

When Namjoon followed the prince back into the castle, he was silent. Uncertainty was making a mess of his insides, and his distraction almost led him to miss Hoseok as the magical being met them at the entrance.

The brownie cast a look askance at their dripping clothes, and arched a brow.

“You’re tracking water everywhere. Rid yourself of those things, I’ll go make some tea to warm you up, shall I?” He hummed, turning on a heel and making to leave. Yoongi’s eyes widened and he half reached out to stop the taller.

“Oh no. Hoseok you are not making tea again until you learn to distinguish which leaves aren’t poisonous.” He called, voice halting the brownie, who turned and gave him a sulky look.

“That was one time Yoongi~ Come on!”

The prince didn’t look moved.

“Once was enough. I’ll get it. Instead, would you mind showing Namjoon where the baths are?” Yoongi asked, shedding his cape and wrinkling his nose at the damp fabric. The shifter did the same and the royal took both to rack beside the closet the garments had come from. A sigh escaped Hoseok as the prince stretched the cloaks out on the rack.

“Fine... I guess he could do with one anyway...” the brownie muttered, sniffing jestingly at the shifter and making a similarly fake sour face. Then his features broke into a grin and he gestured.

“Namjoon huh? Come on, to the baths we go!”

The shifter had time to blink as Hoseok was already halfway down the hall, bouncing with every step. His inner dilemma momentarily forgotten, Namjoon glanced at Yoongi. The prince gave him a nod as he emerged from the closet with a small towel, rubbing at his hands and the soaked ends of his sleeves.

“Go on.” He thrummed, “Hoseok wasn’t wrong about you needing to bathe. A bucket and cloth can only do so much.” Yoongi added, mirth dancing in his dark eyes as he shooed the shifter onward. Namjoon frowned at their ribbing, but... a bath did sound nice. Giving in, he set off down the hall after the echo of Hoseok’s steps, deciding it also had the perk of getting him away from the prince.

His emotions, such as they were, were too much of a mess around the royal...

The shifter turned the corner to find the brownie standing there, nearly running into him. The man just grinned, and set off again at a more sedate pace.

“He’s so cautious, isn’t he?” Hoseok chuckled, hands folded behind his back as he strode in front of Namjoon. The shifter nodded, then realized the man couldn’t see him.

“Yeah. He worries too much.” He muttered, gaze falling to the floor as he absently rubbed his neck. He couldn’t say he’d ever had the ability to say someone was worrying about him before, and it wasn’t so bad in a sense, but he found he disliked being worrying.

“Oh for sure. Goodness the boy wouldn’t even let me clean your room when you were sleeping for fear of startling you when you woke.” The brownie harrumphed, shoulders rising and falling with the exhale. Namjoon’s brows quirked. It... made sense. His room had always been tidy, even though he’d never thought about it. It sparked his curiosity on another topic thought, and he contemplated whether he should ask or not. Couldn’t hurt... much.

“Do... do you know how long I was, er, unconscious? The first time?” the shifter inquired. Hoseok glanced over his shoulder, then shrugged.

“I’m not so good with time as you human’s use it, but... the sun rose and fell three times, so... three days.” He replied, half thinking to himself as he did. Namjoon blinked, then peered at his back. Something... something was nagging at him. The number of days didn’t surprise him, given the severity of his initial wounds. But...

The shifter looked down, raising his hands slightly and started ticking off events with the help of his fingers. Then he did it again, trying to calculate the days. Namjoon’s mouth turned into a frown. He wasn’t sure if he was right...

“A month... didn’t the p- Yoongi say you were doing something with the castle back then?” he mumbled. Surprisingly the brownie heard him, and clapped his hands together excitedly.

“That’s right! Of course! I asked Yoongi to go out while I did, and he came back with you~” Hoseok chuckled, steps bouncing. “Gave me a fright.”

The two of them had turned down a few halls at this point, and now descended a set of stairs carved from stone. The temperature was warmer down here. There must have been a heat source nearby. These were facts Namjoon registered but didn’t really think about, his mind still engaged elsewhere.

Some things that had confused him before began to make sense. The prince and brownie mentioning the last renovation, how the tower had been “safe”. Yoongi must have brought him back and taken him the one place inside he could, even though it was up all those damn stairs.

The thought sent a strange tugging feeling tingling through the shifter’s chest, and he let out a breath. His chest was feeling strange a lot lately. Maybe it had to do with his injuries.

“We’re here!”

Hoseok’s voice startled Namjoon out of his introspection and he actually hopped a little, earning a chuckle from the brownie.

“Come on, you’ll love these~” the energetic spirit encouraged, pushing open a door and standing aside to allow the shifter through.

He did, and swore the temperature of the air rose quite a few notches. Hoseok grinned and stepped past him, gesturing wide.

“You’ll find the baths through there, towels and robes there in the cupboards across from them, and I’ll go steal something dry for you to wear from Yoongi’s closet.” He said, pointing to each doorway before winking. Namjoon blinked and shook his head.

“I don’t think-“ but he’d barely started before the brownie gave a jaunty wave, and vanished into stone floor with nary a trace. The shifter scowled. Everyone in this castle went entirely at their own pace, and he didn’t know how to keep up. Confusing individuals... Well, he was here now, he supposed, turning to the aforementioned two doors at the end of this little outer hall.

The “baths”, as it turned out, were underground hot springs. Natural fountains of steaming water gushed from places on the wall into three fairly deep pools in the large chamber. He couldn’t tell where the water filtered away, but it must go somewhere seeing as the place wasn’t flooded.

Grabbing a towel from the closet, Namjoon plopped it on a protrusion of rock that emerged from the wall near one pool that resembled a bench, running a good ways around the area. Then he hesitated. It was hard to know when Hoseok was gonna pop out of somewhere, but... he supposed there was no point in worrying. Disrobing and piling his things beside the towel, the shifter slid cautiously into the pool.

A deep exhale left him all at once as the heated water rose over his chilled and aching limbs. It quickly soaked what bandages still remained, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as his muscles relaxed into the comforting weightlessness. He sank so far he almost submerged his entire face, letting his nose send little bubbles up around his eyes.

Gods, he hadn’t even known how cold and stiff he’d been till he wasn’t...

He soaked for a while, before setting to scrubbing and cleaning the best he could. Once that was finished, Namjoon sat in the water, watching the ripples from the fountain spread out. He was... alone, he supposed. Carefully, he brought one hand up out of the water, and inspected it. Then, with a conscious effort of will, engaged his shift.

The nails of his hand extended and hardened, curving into short sharp claws. The skin around his fingertips darkened and silver fur to match his hair began to emerge, rippling down his hand and over his wrist, till from his elbow up was more animal than man, muscles tensing and relaxing in little spasms.

Namjoon hadn’t tried this in, well, almost a month. He’d been putting it off. With a quiet sigh, he willed his hand back to human form, clenching and unclenching his fingers experimentally. Almost. He was almost fully recovered, and he couldn’t figure out if that made him happy or not.

Namjoon spent a little longer in the water than perhaps was wise, finally rising when he began to feel too warm. He was just toweling off when a knock sounded at the outer door, echoing clearly despite the sound of flowing water. The shifter pushed his wet hair back with one hand, wrapping the towel around his waist and going to check the door.

Expecting Hoseok, Namjoon blinked at the empty space he looked, then glanced down slightly to find Yoongi instead. The prince carried a little bundle of cloth in his arms and the medical kit set on top. And he had the strangest expression on his face, eyes locked on the shifter’s chest, which was only a few inches below eye level to him. When the royal didn’t move, Namjoon shifted his stance and tilted his head curiously.

“Um, did you come to use the baths..?” He asked, almost snorting when the prince near jumped from his strange daze, glancing up to the shifter’s face before letting out a dry, bizarre cough and pushing past him into the outer room. As he passed, Namjoon caught a flash of red, and squinted. Yoongi’s ears had turned an almost alarming shade of crimson.

“No. I realized you would need fresh bandages after everything, so Hoseok sent me with the clothes as well.” He drawled. His voice sounded normal, but his ears... Maybe he was still cold from the snow. The warm chamber would do him good then.

Namjoon rolled his shoulders in a shrug, walking over and taking the garments as the prince set about getting out bandages and containers from his box. He seemed to be studiously avoiding looking at the shifter, especially when Namjoon dropped his towel to don underthings and robes. There was a different quality to the royal’s averted gaze than just the politeness, though it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the shifter before, having to care for him as he had before.

Namjoon frowned in confusion, pausing once he had a layer on and plopping cautiously down beside the royal. Yoongi finally glanced over and seemed to relax a bit. With a word from the prince, the shifter rolled up his sleeve and the other set to work on one damp wrapping, prying it free and unwinding it.

The cut underneath wouldn’t need wrapping much longer. In fact, Namjoon would have had all of them off by now if the royal hadn’t insisted they stay. Yoongi’s long fingers worked, rewrapping the closed gash on the shifter’s bicep in deft movements and tying it off.

Vaguely, Namjoon wondered if the prince hadn’t had much chance to practice tending someone besides himself before the shifter. The royal seemed to have improved over the month, his ministrations becoming gentler and easier. They’d gone through the motions so many times at this point it almost set the shifter at ease, posture relaxed as Yoongi moved on to a bandage around his neck.

Namjoon tilted his head absently, and a lock of drying hair fell into his face. Not wanting to get in the way, of what the prince was doing, he left it there, closing his lids to prevent letting the strands poke him in the eyes.

A soft brush against his forehead made him crack one open, and he almost started to find Yoongi smoothing the lock back up with absent fingers, eyes still on the wrapping on the shifter’s neck as he went back to tucking it. The touch seemed to have been so unconscious that the prince hadn’t noticed he’d done it, mouth pursed as he focused on his task.

The room was suddenly very warm, and Namjoon let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Yoongi glanced up, brows knitting.

“Sorry, too tight?” He asked, halting his motions. The shifter willed his lungs to draw in air again as he became aware their eyes were mere inches apart, and he cleared his throat.

“No. No they’re fine, sorry.” He muttered. The prince nodded, resuming.

“You should be. Your breath stinks.” He drawled, and Namjoon paused, turning his eyes to glare at him. The corners of the prince’s mouth were twitching noticeably, and when he realized the shifter had spotted him, he chuckled.

Namjoon made his rebellious mouth turn down in a scowl despite its inclination to do the reverse, relieved that the strange tension had abruptly vanished, his shoulders easing.

The rest of the wrappings went quickly, dwindling in number once more as Yoongi judged more wounds healed enough to let be. The prince put away his supplies while Namjoon finished getting dressed, glancing down at the robes as he noticed something... off.

They were too short.

Yoongi turned, and his brows scrunched when he saw the problem, then he rolled his eyes.

“Hoseok got those from my closet, didn’t he?” He asked, tone dry. The shifter nodded with a faint grimace. He thought the brownie had been joking. The prince shook his head, picking up the medical box and heading for the door.

“They’ll do for now, though we should probably just find you some clothes of your own from the annexes soon.” He stated, letting Namjoon get ahead of him to open the door. The shifter paused as Yoongi went past into the hall, staring after him. The man was so casual about... well, offering him permanence here, he supposed. This whole time he’d never made mention of wanting him to leave, or expecting him to. For goodness sake, he’d only learned Namjoon’s name today. How could he trust him?

He wanted to ask. He was about to even, before a voice whispered in the back of his mind. It halted the words, murmuring warnings. Such questions could raise the target’s suspicion. Alert him of the danger before the assassin had a chance to-

“Namjoon! Hurry up, there’s tea waiting and I have something I want to show you.”

The sound of Yoongi’s voice broke the shifter’s train of thought, his head coming up with a jerk.

“Oh... right... Coming.” He mumbled, letting the door swing shut as he stepped out, padding after the prince as his thoughts tried stubbornly to push the matter from them. He found he was becoming increasingly reluctant to to face the issue.

The prince led him down the hall and back up the stairs. They diverted from the original path almost immediately. One stop was made while the royal stowed his medicinal box in a set of cupboards set off a room full of growing and drying herbs. After that, he walked beside Namjoon, hands folded behind him.

When Yoongi finally stopped, it was in front of a large pair of heavy wooden doors, and he stepped forward to one that was already cracked open enough to let a person through. The prince looked back, and the shifter thought he saw excitement in the man’s eyes. Then he was in, and as always, Namjoon followed.

He was greeted by a sight that took his breath away.

A library. A vast, high arching chamber full of shelves upon shelves of books. Books of all kinds and covers, scrolls, odd scraps of parchment and even a few stone tablets lined the whole place. The ceiling soared over head, and Namjoon couldn’t even see the far walls for the shelves, reaching all the way to the roof. The room was partially lit by high, long windows of multiple panes of glass letting in streams of rosy daylight, while glass lamps lit the darker corners and occupied sconces at every turn.

It was just so... huge! And there were so many books! The shifter couldn’t remember ever having seen so many tomes in one place before, never even heard of it.

By the time he came back to himself enough to register that he was standing there slightly agape, Yoongi was watching him with a smile hovering about his mouth. With a move of his head, he turned and made his way to a little sitting area off to one side. It was situated around a fireplace, and a small blaze already crackled in the hearth. Mugs and a pot sat on the short table between the seats, and the prince plopped himself down, looking expectantly up to Namjoon.

The shifter joined him slowly, still gazing around in badly masked awe, and sank into an armchair in the little circle.

“This is one of my favorite places in the palace.” Yoongi hummed, reaching forward to pour the tea. “Hoseok hasn’t finished all the sections yet, but he’s close. You can find any sort of book you want here.”

The flecks of enthusiasm that seeped into the royal’s normally cool speech made Namjoon feel excited as well, somehow. He nodded, taking his mug and glancing around.

“It’s... it’s certainly unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” The shifter replied, cradling the warm beverage. Yoongi’s little lopsided smile returned, and he nodded with a pleased noise, taking a sip of his own drink. The prince seemed oddly expressive, certainly more so than usual.

Namjoon watched him for a moment, trying to pinpoint... something seemed... almost off. It was in the little differences of the royal’s movements, his speech. It was enough to distract him from the amazing place they were in, as he continued to peer at Yoongi. The prince didn’t really take notice, which in itself was odd.

“You’ve been doing well with your reading and writing, so I thought you’d enjoy yourself here, perhaps. Plus, it’s good practice.” He continued, draining the mug.

The shifter nodded, squinting at the other in the fading light. He swore his cheeks looked a mite... pink.

Namjoon sat back, frowning. It was probably just the sunset, and he was imagining things. The prince was no pushover. Hell, he was probably heartier than Namjoon. He hadn’t even bothered to change after being out in the snow.

Yoongi, still somewhat distracted, suddenly rose and went to a pile of books stacked off to the side, the result of a previous visit no doubt. Crouching, he lifted a few before finding a folded piece of parchment pressed between what looked like two large grimoires. Rising, He unfurled it and returned, laying it out on the table.

“This is a map that lays out the sections fairly well. I-“ the prince paused, leaning on the table, and a tight look flitted across his features so quickly the shifter thought maybe he’d imagined it. “I’ll be, um, across the hall if you grow weary and wish to retire.”

Namjoon watched Yoongi straighten, adjust his robes and look to him to see if he had questions. He felt his mouth press into a puzzled line.

“Very well... thank you.” He replied, earning a twitch of the lips and murmured “Of course.” With that, the prince nodded to him, turned and slipped back out.

The shifter stared after him, perplexed by his behavior. It was just... odd. Shaking himself, he turned back to the map. The royal had been right, his reading had made leaps and bounds, and in his spare hours he had discovered an appreciation for literature previously unexplored. But here, here that could change. As he focused, Namjoon felt himself becoming intrigued again, scanning the map for a few specific genres that had drawn him from the selection the prince brought to his room for lessons.

The next few hours past in a blur, as the shifter wandered among the shelves, climbed wooden stairs and ladders and glanced over shelf after shelf of books and scrolls. There was something indescribably comforting about the library, from the warm smell of dust, leather, cloth and glue to the soothing silence.

He collected a little stack of books to begin with, bringing them and his map back to the table to flip through his finds.

It was peaceful, lounging and reading, getting lost in the pages and letting immediate concerns seep away. The shifter would dare to say he’d found himself a hobby in books. Something heretofore out of his realm of reality.

He was about halfway through his first book, a smaller volume illustrating the tale of a fair maiden and her princess, when a sound breached the muted atmosphere of the library.

Namjoon’s sensitive ears perked, and his head rose as he snapped out of his trance, looking around. It wasn’t in the room... no, it came from somewhere outside.

A soft melody. A lilting song that caught his attention and held it, rising and falling smoothly.

Namjoon’s brow creased. Where could it be coming from? He’d only heard a few instruments in his time at court, and he vaguely remembered the sound of this one... But where was it?

It continued, floating into the library to be lost among the shelves, and eventually he was driven to his feet, seeking the source.

Setting his book down, Namjoon approached the door. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find, its volume betraying its proximity. Warily, the shifter slipped through the half open entrance into the hall, and paused as he stared at the door right across from it.

The place Yoongi said he would be. And the place the melody emanated from.

Padding lightly, Namjoon eased up, pressing on the smaller doorway to find it open. Without really knowing why, the shifter entered as quietly as possible, finding a dimly lit hall. In comparison to the library, this place was small, almost barren of furniture and cold without anything inside to retain heat.

And at the center sat the single feature of the space. A large piano of dark wood, shining dully in the flickering candlelight.

Seated at the instrument was none other than the prince.

Yoongi’s hands hovered over the keys, fingers dancing along them in an entrancing pattern. His back was to the door, slightly curved and shoulders relaxed, and evidently wholly absorbed in the music he wove.

Actually being in the room, the song that the prince played took on a whole new tone, the bare space echoing the sound to give it an almost haunting quality, and the shifter stood there, stunned. It was as if the melody had found him, twined around him and rooted him to the spot, a willing prisoner.

The trance was abruptly and jarring it broken as a note fell flat, and Yoongi’s form wobbled on his stool. One hand reached out to steady himself, accidentally pressing several keys and sending a discordant clanging reverberating through the room as his other hand came up to his head.

Namjoon flinched at the sudden break, eyes going wide. He covered the space to the piano and it’s player in a few strides and came around to see his face. The little hints he’d noticed earlier had been correct, and the shifter sucked in a breath.

The prince’s complexion had taken a turn for the worse, face ashen with only blotches of red high on his cheeks and forehead. Sweat beaded at his temple and his breathing was uneven.

Yoongi’s gaze slowly rose to meet Namjoon’s, and a grimace crossed his features, as if he’d been caught out in some fashion.

“Ah... damn...” he muttered, letting out a shaky exhale and readjusting his one hand so it no longer pressed the piano keys. Before the shifter could decide to move, the prince made to rise, stool scraping back as he came to his feet. It turned out to be a bad decision, his balance tilting and abruptly failing.

Namjoon was reaching forward before his brain could really process the events at hand, and he caught the prince’s form against him with a grunt. The other man’s head lulled forward, Yoongi’s forehead resting against the crook of Namjoon’s shoulder and neck. The prince’s skin was fever hot to the touch.

Namjoon stared down at the royal in acute dismay. It was all so sudden- Confusion, mounting panic and worry coiled in his stomach. He didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know what to do.

Chapter Text

“Dumbarse.”

Yoongi frowned at Namjoon from the bed and clicked his tongue in dismissal of the statement, but the shifter wasn’t about to let it go.

“You were the one who kept warning me not to fall ill, yet here you are. I think I have the right to call you a dumbarse.” He continued, partially wringing out a wet folded strip of cloth over a bowl and handing it to the reclined royal. The prince took it and placed it on his own forehead, letting out a gusty exhale.

“I only called you that after you did an incredibly stupid thing like trying to walk maybe two whole days after being in a coma.” Yoongi replied, voice too tired to have much force behind it. Namjoon just sniffed.

“I don’t know, I think not changing your wet clothes after being in the snow in the dead of winter was a pretty stupid decision.” he countered. The prince’s silence told him he’d won, and he turned to level a dryly triumphant look at the other. The royal met his eyes, then pursed his mouth and frowned. It almost looked like a pout.

After the rather startling events the night before with the prince collapsing and all, Namjoon had called for Hoseok. The brownie had appeared and almost panicked till he got a good look at the prince. It was shortly declared to be just an unusually fast setting and high fever, and they’d gotten the man to his room in reasonable order.

He’d been restless the whole night, brow furrowed in pain and sweating the some of sickness out. It had eased in the dawn hours and he’d woken not long ago. The shifter wouldn’t admit how concerned he’d been, not even to himself, currently using their banter to stay his own nagging thoughts.

“You should have slept.” Yoongi muttered, still frowning at the ceiling. Namjoon glanced aside at him. The royal looked back and watched him, gaze a little foggy from the fever, but somehow still as piercing as ever. “You still need your rest as well.”

The shifter pushed away the increasingly familiar bubble of warmth in his chest in favor of giving the prince a dubious look.

“People who made themselves bedridden don’t get to talk about taking care of oneself until they gain some sense.” He said, busying himself with the next thing Hoseok had left him. Since Yoongi had been out for the count, they’d had to rely on what the brownie remembered about how the prince had handled Namjoon’s first few days to care for him.

Turned out the next item was a change of clothes, and the shifter eyed the prince.

“Can you sit up?” He asked first, turning with the lighter garment in hand. Yoongi’s gaze flicked down, then up and then at himself, and he grimaced as if in silent agreement with the step. It was weird, having their roles suddenly reversed like this, and it was strange for Namjoon to recognize some of his own stubborn attitude to being taken care of in the royal.

“Aye, I’ll manage. Give it to me.” Yoongi said, working his way onto his elbows, then upright with some effort, brows scrunching in concentration. Halfway through, he paused and added, “Please.”

Namjoon arched a brow, then cautiously set the dark tunic on the bed within easy reach of the prince. Yoongi nodded his thanks, and set to work undoing his sash. It didn’t take as long as the shifter expected, the royal retaining much of his dexterity even in his fever clouded state. Within moments he was wearily shrugging out of his upper clothing and dropping it beside the bed. Namjoon just stared, stunned to silence by the unexpected sight of what lay beneath those robes.

When the shifter thought of nobles, royalty or any of the higher standing individuals, specifically in the case of their physique, he imagined well fed people with delicate frames and flesh unmarked by the wear and tear of labor or hardship.

Yoongi was nothing of the sort.

Beneath his robes, his frame wasn’t exactly broad, but lean and hardened in testament to years of training. Namjoon had guessed at this much when he first watched the prince move, trained to gage his targets strength merely by observing. That wasn’t what stunned him. No, what took his breath away were the scars.

All across Yoongi’s skin were countless ridges and lines telling of old injuries. And no two scars were the same. Some inflicted by knife, some spikes, some burns, others he couldn’t make out. They marked his arms, his front, his back, even his neck. All normally hidden by his long robes and high collars.

And the worst part- gods... some of those scars were faded enough to have been inflicted when the prince was no more than ten. And some were so faded that he realized with a sick feeling that yet earlier ones had already disappeared. At least on the surface. The shifter was no stranger to scars, not at all, but he was unsure how to process the implications of these.

Abruptly, Yoongi’s answer to Namjoon’s early question of how he knew the healing arts made chilling sense.

“Necessity.”

The shifter found his gaze glued to his lap.

He realized he was far from the first killer sent after this prince. And he was beginning to get a vivid idea of why the man had run away from his father, whether the part about him trying to kill the king was true or not.

“-Could you hand me another wet cloth?”

Namjoon’s head snapped up and he blinked upon realizing Yoongi was looking at his expectantly. The royal seemed a little surprised at his jerky motion, but after a moment added a hesitant “...Please?”

The shifter shook himself, nodding mutely and doing as asked. The prince dipped his head in thanks and used the damp fabric to wipe his neck and shoulders, even twisting his arm at a bizarre angle to reach his back. Of course, the fever made him sweat, which was the point of changing clothing.

Feeling like he was being quite useless just sitting there, Namjoon leaned forward slightly. “Would you like help?” He asked. If it had been any other time or occasion, Yoongi probably would have said no. But he thought it over a moment before conceding, handing the shifter the cloth and turning as best he could.

Namjoon stared at the lattice on the prince’s back for a moment. There were whip marks here. He hesitated, suddenly uncertain if he should dare touch the man. The man he’d been ordered to kill, who now sat as defenseless as he was ever likely to be, his back to the shifter willingly.

With a quiet swallow, Namjoon set to work, running the wet towel over the prince’s back as carefully as he could. Apparently it felt nice, because the tensed muscles of Yoongi’s shoulders began to relax under the motion, and he heard a sigh. It didn’t take long, and once he was clean and dry, the prince wriggled into the new robe and let out a pleased noise as he fell back into his pillow.

“Thank you...” he murmured groggily, eyelids suddenly fluttering. The shifter’s throat closed at the words before he could form an answer to them, though he wasn’t sure what he would have said even if it hadn’t. Yoongi was asleep again before he had a chance to figure it out

This sleep was far less fitful than the first, and Namjoon watched him for a while, half aware and half spaced out as the thoughts tumbled through his mind. He had been given a written order from the king himself to seek out and kill the prince.

But he didn’t want to do it.

He didn’t even know if he could anymore.

Somewhere between that thought and the next, the shifter slumped forward, his own sleepless night catching up to him as his upper half lay on the edge of the bed, head falling onto folded arms and slumber overtaking him.

-

Namjoon woke to a wholly unfamiliar feeling. Unfamiliar, but pleasant. And, well, “woke” was an exaggeration, his mind sluggishly surfacing enough to register a few tactile messages from his body.

But it was enough. It was enough for him to notice the position he sat in, leaning on the bed, the weight of a blanket now draped around his shoulders. And the warm hand moving gently over his head, brushing through his short locks in gentle little motions, ruffling and soothing.

Confusion seeped into his perceptions, and with effort, he forced one eye to crack open.

Night had fallen, and the room was almost completely dark, only a scant few beams of moonlight shafting through the window behind him. They illuminated the bed well enough for him to see.

Yoongi was awake, sitting up and gazing down at the shifter. His hand paused for a brief moment when he saw Namjoon looking blearily back at him, before cautiously resuming its movement. The prince’s mouth lifted in a faint smile, and his thumb brushed over the shifter’s forehead, moving some of the stray silver strands to the side.

“I didn’t mean to wake you... my apologizes. All is well... Sleep.” He murmured softly. The deep cadence of Yoongi’s voice thrummed through Namjoon like a spell, and his eyes drooped closed before he even realized it, inexplicably comforted by the reassurance... Just like that, he slipped peacefully back into a doze, the prince’s fingers still idly running through his hair...

-

The next morning, Namjoon let Hoseok look after the prince for a time, half shooed away by the man himself to go “check out the storage areas”. Yoongi had insisted he didn’t need looking after anymore, telling them their time would be best spent elsewhere. In Namjoon’s case, finding himself some clothes.

So here he was, staring at the trunks of cloth and garments in dismay. How was he supposed to chose? He’d never had a selection really, just whatever served his purpose and mission. The shifter had been standing here almost since the brownie left him as such, and was scowling.

To the wolves with it. All this dithering was pointless, he’d just grab something random and leave. Pulling open a trunk he’d peeked inside before, he did just that, grabbing a plain set of black and grey apparel. Yoongi had mentioned this whole thing yesterday, but doing it on his own felt odd. Being alone in and of itself felt strange, made increasingly so when he thought about how accustomed he’d been to solitude before coming here. He’d thought it his natural state of living.

His thoughts went back to the prince, and stirred up the hazy memory he’d been trying to make sense of all morning. Surely that had been a dream. Even as he insisted that to himself, he felt his face warm and let out an exasperated sigh.

Why did everything here have to be so godsdamned confusing! And now he seemed to be catching Yoongi’s cold. He touched a hand to his own forehead to check his temperature, just in case. All seemed well... The prince never failed to send him off balance... sometimes literally.

It must be affecting him mentally, seeing as how whenever he thought of the man, that weird tingly warmth fluttered through his chest. It sounded like a sever medical issue, yet caused him no discomfort.

Perhaps he’d ask the medicinally knowledgeable royal later-

His thoughts were abruptly cut off as the door to the storage room burst open, and Namjoon spun on a heel, senses immediately on high alert. But there was nobody there. Then a voice rang around him, directionless but clear as crystal.

“Namjoon, come to the tower! We have a big problem!” Hoseok called, the noise fading even as the shifter dropped the garments he held and exited the storage room with as much haste as possible, jumping over crates, boxes and furniture to get to the door. He couldn’t run like he used to just yet, but he gave it his best shot, bounding through the corridors and up stairs at his best maintainable pace. Whispers of “Hurry...” murmured from the walls as he ascended, and he could feel the brownie’s mounting tension. Whatever this was about, it couldn’t be related to the prince, his room was down below. So what had managed to spark Hoseok’s anxiety...?

It took him a few minutes to reach the room at the top of the tower, and he spotted the castle brownie dancing from foot to foot by the window. The figure didn’t even bother to turn, just beckoned him over his shoulder, eyes locked on something.

“I didn’t want to tell Yoongi, he’d try to come up here- uh- just- look.” Hoseok said hurriedly, moving aside to let Namjoon stand where he had. The shifter obliged, concern and confusion coalescing in equal measure as he stepped up to the window and glanced out, trying to spot what had upset the brownie.

He couldn’t have even if he tried. In fact, it was chillingly impossible to miss. Namjoon’s uneven breaths caught in his throat and he wanted to cough, to release air, but he couldn’t. His confusion solidified instantly to icy dread, and dropped into the pit of his stomach as his gaze locked on the sight.

Out in the forest, clearly distinguishable even through the thick branches of the Blackwood, a column of soldiers marched through the trees. Dull December sunlight glinted off armor, and banners of black and gold flapped in the winter wind. The colors of the kingdom.

The shifter didn’t bother to try and make out numbers, numbly focused on one thing. The banner in front that bore the crest of the royal family, carried beside a gaudily dressed soldier at the head of the line.

The king led these soldiers. The king who wanted his son dead. And the column was headed in a sure line directly for the castle.

Chapter Text

Namjoon was bounding down the stairs of the tower before he had time to register it. His mind had gone from frozen in shock to an incoherent swirling storm in seconds, and all he could think about was halting those soldiers. Stopping the king.

He rounded the corner and loped down the hall, lungs burning, and suddenly his pace slowed. Hesitantly, he came to a halt before the door of the Prince’s room. His breathing was coming fast, and he stood there, staring at it. For some unfathomable reason, he wanted to open it. He wanted to see the man on the other side, to sit with him, talk to him. Tell him everything.

His fingers twitched towards the door knob.

No.

It was too late now. He didn’t have any right. He never did. He never should have stayed here. Gotten comfortable here. Gotten attached-

“Namjoon?”

The voice from within, low and calm, sent a fresh ripple of frustration and guilt through the shifter. His gut twisted and he took a step back from the door, lip caught between his teeth. Damn these emotions! Damn him for letting them invade his being when he knew better! Damn the prince for freeing them, little by little, after all Namjoon’s years of locking them away.

He turned and ran again before Yoongi could speak once more. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he stayed. If he heard him...

So he ran. He ran to the front hall, and out the large front doors. Out into the courtyard. Out where he would meet the king and his men.

The shifter didn’t know why, but he had to stop them. He was not a creature of honor, nor courage. Hell, he was nothing but a monster and a tool. But gods take him, he would not let them harm the person who had saved his life. Taken him in and shown him kindness. They would not take Yoongi. He couldn’t let them.

It took the column agonizing minutes to finally reach the castle, and there they were met by the shifter, arms folded and resolute. He stared with a blank expression into the face of the man who called himself king, and did not let his coiling apprehension show. He dared not. For a human, the monarch fed on fear like a malicious spirit.

The king reigned in his horse some 20 steps from where Namjoon stood, and his herald and banner holder signaled a halt down the column. With a rumbling clatter of metal and the stomp of feet, the marching soldiers formed up behind him, a few of the royal guard on either side with spears at the ready.

The king did not bother to dismount, peering at the shifter’s cloaked figure. Then he leaned back in the saddle and took off his shining helm.

“So... my scouts were correct. How good to see you well, Namjoon. I feared for you, after they told me about all the blood.” The sovereign’s voice rang across the distance. His words were ones of concern, but there was no warmth to them, no sincerity. The shifter had never noticed before, never had a comparison, but now the flat voice sent a shiver down his spine.

Nevertheless, he bowed low to the king, jaw set at repeating the motion he had performed so many times before.

“Your majesty. I’m honored by your worry, but you need not have come all the way out here to check on me.” He replied, keeping his own tone controlled. He winced as he rose and saw the king’s face darken. Namjoon has never spoken thus to him before. He couldn’t afford mistakes like that.

“Indeed... it is good, then, that that is not all I have come for.” The king hummed, and the shifter stiffened as his voice lost all semblance of amusement. “I sent you on a mission, beast. Imagine my surprise when I heard my best hunter had been rendered inert, and that the trail of blood led back to a castle!.. A castle that, I am told, is home to your target... I merely wanted to be sure you had not failed in your duty.”

The smile the king gave him was chilling it it’s tight lack of emotion.

The words themselves washed over Namjoon like a tide of sticky black panic. It was almost tangible, clinging to his skin and freezing his bones. He had to divert the king. He couldn’t let this happen, he could not. Not when he-! Not when it had been his fault they were here. His blood that had led them here, his mistakes.

He had to master himself. He had to be believable. And he could not risk giving himself or those within the castle away. Taking a deep breath, Namjoon straightened his shoulders, assuming the alert stance he had always taken with the King. Ready for orders. Ready to obey.

“I’m sorry if I have done something that caused you to distrust me so, my King.” He replied, terse and formal. His head bent in a show of remorse, the angle making it easier to hide his eyes. “I have never failed you before, what makes you think I have done so now?”

Even across the distance, the shifter saw the human’s brow quirk. There was silence for a stretch. Namjoon didn’t dare break it, breath held.

“Then... it is done?” The king finally asked, careful but a sick sort of excitement in his tone. The lie rolled from the shifter easier than he would have thought. If he could lie to Yoongi all this time, then he had no qualms about lying to this wretched man.

“Aye, my king. It is done. I’ve simply been recovering before I returned to you.”

The first genuine smile Namjoon had ever seen spread across the king’s face, and the shifter felt ill. Who grinned like that upon being told their son had been killed?

‘The kind who order it be done.’ His thoughts whispered.

“Excellent, my beast.” The king called, the ‘my’ part almost making Namjoon flinch. He hated it. Hated this. But he had little choice. “If that is so, why don’t we check around, mm? After all, I would love to see the inside of this castle you have claimed.” The king continued, and Namjoon’s heart abruptly dropped into his shoes. No. No no no. That was no good. If they looked around, they would find Yoongi. Find him alive and weakened, and-

No.

Namjoon opened his mouth, bade cunning words of rebuttal to come. Some clever way to divert the sovereign, but nothing arose. He felt like a beached fish, floundering, unsure how to back to safe waters-

“Allow me to save you the trouble.”

The voice shattered Namjoon’s thoughts like a mace crashing through a pane of fine elven glass, and he whirled on his heel, catching the shocked expression he was sure was about to turn to rage that flashed over the king’s face as he too directed his gaze beyond the shifter, to the gates a few feet behind him.

The prince had stepped barefoot out into the snow, still clad in only a thin robe. He had his bow in hand, quiver belted at his hip, and his pale features were a mask of detached annoyance as he met the eyes of the king. He came to stand beside the shellshocked Namjoon, an arrow casually knocked.

“Hello, father.”

The monarch wrenched his horse’s reigns so hard the animal half reared, dancing forward a pace or two. The horse’s eyes were wide at the sudden tension of its rider, almost palpable even at this distance. The king’s face had twisted in a sneer, and he gazed at Yoongi like he was dead rat he found on his dinner plate.

“You do not call me by that, bastard cur.” He hissed, hand twitching towards his sword. Then suddenly the king was rounding his mount on the shifter. “Well! He looks a lot more alive than you led me to believe, mongrel.” He spat towards him.

But Namjoon was hardly paying attention, too focused on the prince. Oh gods... oh sins and saints Yoongi knew. He had heard everything, and now he knew what Namjoon was. What he had come here for, and whom he served. Somehow, anticipating the prince’s reaction to what the shifter had most dreaded him discovering was more terrifying than facing the king and all his soldiers in this moment, and he stood, rooted to the spot.

Whatever the prince did, Namjoon would deserve it. Whether he hated him, cursed him, threw him to the wolves. Any or all, he would not blame the man one bit.

Yoongi turned towards him, and the shifter fought his urge to take a step back. To run again. To run away from the prince, the king, the small army gathered in the courtyard, everything. He stood, wide eyed and searching the man’s face. He didn’t know what to expect. Anger? Betrayal? Apathy? Almost certainly shouting, disgust and scorn. Maybe all of the above, like the king.

So when the prince’s expression merely eased, his eyes softening upon seeing Namjoon’s, the shifter felt as if the wind had been knocked clear out of his lungs. Yoongi half turned to him, easing back his bow slightly and meeting Namjoon’s eyes. He seemed to understand what they held, and a small smile quirked his mouth.

“It is alright,” He murmured, roughened voice gentle. “I knew.”

Now the shifter did step back, as stutteringly as if he’d been dealt a physical blow. He- what? How-? His breaths were uneven, mind reeling, yet even now he had little time to think on any of it as the prince turned back to his father’s forces, face hardening once more.

“Tell me, old man, what brings you to my home.” Yoongi drawled, probably the first person Namjoon had ever heard dare to call the monarch that to his face. The king scoffed, cantering forward another few paces, his guards following a step behind.

“As if a bastard like you could own anything. But very well, since you ask...” now the king smirked, looking to take delight in his next words, “I will admit I rather hoped the mongrel had failed to kill you, as we suspected. I took to the notion that a quiet death was too kind a sentence.”

Confusion now colored Namjoon’s chaotic thoughts. He had always known royals to favor and protect their bloodlines jealously. So why then, was the king so intent on killing the prince. Intent to the point that he’d been trying for some fifteen or more years?

“No... You are a traitor after all. And traitors deserve a proper execution.” The king hummed, wholly focused on Yoongi. Namjoon looked to the prince to gage his reaction, his instincts itching to put himself between father and son. Those urges redoubled when he saw the faint unsteadiness in Yoongi’s hands, the quick, labored quality of his steaming breaths in the winter air.

He gave in to them, stepping jerkingly forward and positioning his body beside and slightly in front of Yoongi’s, shielding him. Gods above, the foolish prince was still sick! He was sick, and vulnerable and an idiot. A brave, foolishly understanding moron.

Yoongi blinked, frowning, and opened his mouth to express what Namjoon would guess was an objection. The king beat him to it, in a fashion.

“I should have known not to trust the loyalties of a mongrel. Turned and bitten the hand that fed you, aye?” The man said, derision bleeding through in every word. Namjoon had never known a man who could inject so much scorn into his voice as this monarch did, and even though he didn’t want it to, years of training and conditioning made the words sting. But he did not back down, merely locked his jaw and glared at his old ‘master’. They had raised him a monster, and a monster they would get.

Almost without thought, Namjoon’s claws broke free, his shift coming over him in a ripple of change. His ears stretched and morphed up the sides of his head, fur spreading up his arms and his eyes changing, sharpening. Canines elongated in his mouth and he bit down to avoid snarling outright. His shift, his lupine features and form fully evident within seconds. It was not quite that of a werewolfs’ or other were beasts’ half shift, but close, even a few inches of height added to his stature.

The king’s eyes hardened to chips of flint, and his mocking air vanished, only to be replaced with fresh anger. He raised his fist deliberately beside him, and in a wave, the soldiers at his back drew their weapons. The icy fear came creeping back into Namjoon’s stomach at the sight, but still, he did not back down. He would protect the prince, this kind and honest prince, if it was the only decent thing he ever did in this life.

Tension crackled through the courtyard, short lived and shortly shattered by a single raised and ringing voice.

“Stand down!” Yoongi snapped, the order carrying across the open ground with enough force that the king’s soldiers actually hesitated. Before the shifter could stop him, the prince had stepped out in front of him, exchanging their places.

“Stand down, old man.” the prince hissed, bow lowered and stance carefully neutral. “By saying you want a public execution, you mean to say you are here to take me back to the capital, yes?”

It was more a statement of fact than a question, the prince’s tone dispassionate and unwavering, even as he discussed his own possible death. Despite it not really needing answer, the king nodded, lip lifting in distaste at Yoongi’s continued disrespectful fashion of addressing him.

“That would be the idea...”

The prince was silent for beat.

“Very well.”

The king’s face twisted in a smirk of triumph just as Namjoon’s heart climbed into his throat. He grabbed the prince’s shoulder and spun the man around to face him, staring at him in confusion.

“Why?” Was the only word that managed to tumble from the cascade damned up on his tongue and escape his mouth. Yoongi craned his neck to look into the shifter’s face, now a little farther up than he was used to thanks to the transformation. His gaze roamed almost lazily over the new features, drinking them all in, and eventually coming back to Namjoon’s eyes. The prince’s own face crumpled faintly, a crease between his brows and his mouth turning down, wary and fear sparking through his expression for the first time the shifter had seen.

“I do not want to see you hurt again.” Yoongi almost whispered, sliding his previously drawn arrow back into the quiver and letting the bow hang loosely by his side. “Especially not by him.”

“Drop your weapons, and step away from the mongrel.” The king’s order came, and Namjoon’s fingers involuntarily tightened on Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Don’t. Please- please don’t-“ the shifter breathed, voice cracking strangely around the words. Some part of him did not want to let the prince go. Wanted to pull him closer, shelter him, and growl at anything that dared threaten him. Yoongi stared up at Namjoon, an odd peace coming over his expression. His skin was ashen, the chill in the air sending spots of color to his nose and ears.

The prince dropped his bow and unbuckled his quiver in a few short movements. The sound of the items crunching into the snow seemed over loud to the shifter, and he flinched. Yoongi paused, half parting his lips as if to say something as he reached up, far up to Namjoon’s face. His fingers brushed a few stray disheveled locks from the shifter’s forehead, fingers feverish to the touch.

The gentle gesture made the shifter want to sob, his throat closing on nothing and everything he wanted to say. The prince’s palm came to rest against his jaw for a brief moment, and Namjoon’s grip loosened in surprise and uncertainty. The prince only smiled.

“All will be well.” Yoongi assured, before raising both hands to Namjoon’s chest and abruptly shoving him backward with every ounce of strength the man could likely muster. It was plenty, sending the shifter stumbling and tumbling back through the doors of the castle and onto the floor of the great hall.

“Hoseok, keep him safe.” The royal’s voice called after him. A shock of realization ran through Namjoon and he scrambled to his feet. Too late, the door swinging even as a twang sounded, arrows embedding themselves in the wood. One shaft snuck through, grazing Namjoon’s shoulder, but he barely noticed. The shifter slammed against the heavy block with a fist, then his shoulder.

“Hoseok! Hoseok- damn you, open it! Open it now!” He shouted, but was met with nothing. Outside, the clatter of armor. Voices.

“That was dramatic, don’t you think?”

“I knew negotiating his safety with you was a pointless exercise, your majesty.”

“Too bad, I would have liked to execute that mongrel too... Oh, what a scary face. Don’t get so worked up, cur. I won’t be laying siege to the castle or any some such. I have what I came for. You there, grab the bastard and let’s get moving already. I’ve spent far too long in these saint forsaken woods as it is-“

Anything else was lost as the shifter resumed his pounding on the door, desperation spurring his movements as his eyes burned.

“Hoseok! Hoseok! Please- we have to stop them- we can’t just let him go!” Still no response from the brownie. As the clatter of armor and horses faded, the shifter’s pleas died, and he sank to the floor before the door, fists aching and scraped, body numb.

He had failed. He had failed so utterly and miserably he wasn’t sure how to quantify it anymore. He had failed in his mission, his duty, his purpose, and now the one thing he’d ever tried to protect had slipped through his fingers.

He was weak. He was so achingly, uselessly weak. Now he really did want to sob, perhaps cry, release the awful feeling in his stomach somehow- but no tears came. No sobs could be heard, only dreadful, total silence.

“I’m sorry.”

The voice was small, a shadow of its usual cheery self, and Namjoon couldn’t even summon the energy to look up from the floor.

“I’m so- I’m so sorry.” The brownie repeated, breaking and having to try again. He sounded hollow somehow.

When Namjoon still didn’t respond, Hoseok’s presence faded, and the shifter was left alone once more, forehead pressed to the oak door.

He had failed him.

He had failed Yoongi.

Chapter Text

Namjoon didn’t know when he lost consciousness, didn’t know when he exhausted brain finally shut down, shift melting away. When he opened his eyes he was no longer before the doors of the palace. The smell of ink, parchment and leather glue invaded his senses. His eyes blinked open to a crackling fire.

The shifter sat up, a blanket previously tucked around his shoulders falling away. His limbs ached, and he lay upon a couch in the library. The sky outside was dark, and he spotted his books stacked a few feet away. Everything was so calm, so silent and tranquil... he could almost believe he’d drifted off in the library after visiting the baths, and everything after had all been or horrible dream.

He looked down. No such luck... the wound from the arrow was still there, along the the scrapes on his fists from banging on the solid door. They had been clumsily treated, and he stared at the uneven bandages, numb.

Yoongi was gone. He hadn’t been able to save him.

Slowly, Namjoon’s shoulder’s hunched, and his face fell into his hands. His breathing was deep and steady, yet he felt as if no air was actually entering his lungs. The sound of feet on stone made his head snap up, and he spotted a very subdued brownie shuffling up to the seating area.

Hoseok pauses upon seeing him upright, the tray in his hands clinking. Cautiously, he stepped forward again, setting the tray down on the table and sinking into a nearby chair. There was silence for a long stretch, the cup on the tray steaming gently into the air between them.

“Why?” It seemed to be a question the shifter asked most often in recent times. His voice sounded flat, even to himself.

Hoseok looked to deflate, no evidence of his usual perpetual smile present on his drawn features. His hands wound together in his lap, half covered by those overlong robe sleeves. He met Namjoon’s eyes though, a look of worry passing over his own.

“I...” He glanced down at his knitted fingers, “I couldn’t lose you both.” He said, quiet as he shifter had ever heard him.

Namjoon twitched, half turning to stare hard at the brownie. His mouth pressed into a line as an ugly little bubble of suspicious rose in his chest.

“Seriously? You kept me back just to save- what? A life force for you to feed off of? Something to fuel you so you wouldn’t fade again? Am I prisoner here now?” The shifter hated the words even as they dropped from his lips. Hated the thoughts that prompted them. He locked his teeth together, but it was too late.

Hoseok jerked as if struck, and his head came up abruptly. The anger in his normally warm eyes took Namjoon aback, and the brownie stood, his chair scraping back with the force. His fists were clenched at his sides.

“If you had gone out there, you would have died. Aye, you would have taken a lot of them with you, but you would still be dead. Then Yoongi would have died trying to save you. I couldn’t let that happen.” He replied, voice hard and faintly cracking. The library around them groaned faintly, a few books shuddering in reaction to the brownie’s flare of emotion. Hoseok glared at the mutely shocked shifter for a long moment, then took a deep breath and dropped back into his seat. The stiffness around his mouth and eyes eased and he let the breath out in a gusty exhale.

“I know you’re hurting. I am sorry for the pain I caused you, Namjoon, but I won’t apologize for keeping you back. Right now, you’re both alive. And that means there is hope.” He murmured, quieter than before. The shifter nodded slowly, his surprise replaced rapidly with shame.

“... I’m sorry.” He whispered into the quiet. The brownie just nodded, silently acknowledging it. Namjoon glanced up at him, reaching up to move his own hair from his face, briefly and painfully reminded of the prince. He shook himself.

“You’re... you’re sure he’s alive?”

Hoseok nodded again, absently picking up the drink he’d brought and pushing it into the shifter’s reluctant grip. The warmth from it sparked feeling in his numb fingers, and he closed his hands around it on instinct.

“Aye. I have a few friends in the forest whom I asked to follow the king’s envoy and warn me if anything happened. Yoongi... he’s not doing well, but he lives.” The brownie said, refolding his own hands in his lap, elbows propped on the arms of his chair. Namjoon felt a weight he hadn’t noticed was there lift from his shoulders in relief, and stared down into the tea within the cup.

“Hoseok... how long... How long did he know? About what I was?” He asked, wary of the answer. The brownie hummed for a moment.

“About your shifter nature? Well-“

Namjoon shook his head.

“No, my- my loyalties at the time. Who it was I served and... what I was here for.”

The brownie made a noise of understanding.

“Ah... before he brought you back here, I think. He knew, or guessed.” Hoseok’s voice was soft, as if he didn’t want to upset or startle the shifter. The tea inside the cup rippled as Namjoon’s hands wavered.

“Then...” his lip caught between his teeth, and he couldn’t find a way to finish. The ghost of a smile passed over Hoseok’s face.

“Then why did he help you?” he suggested.

The shifter nodded. The brownie tilted his head, gazing at him steadily.

“I couldn’t say. You’ll have to ask him yourself once we get him back.”

Namjoon’s back straightened abruptly and he stared at Hoseok, swinging his legs off the couch and set his tea down so fast some of it spilled on his hand.

“Can we? How?!” He breathed, alert and almost bristling. The brownie held up his hands, surprised by the shifter’s sudden movements. He made a gesture of calming and let out his breath slowly.

“W-woah! It’s no solid guarantee, alright? There are some people that might be able to help, and it will be dangerous but... there is a chance, if you’re willing.” Hoseok was hardly finished and Namjoon was already nodding. The brownie offered him a small grin for it.

“Of course.” The shifter stated, the certainty in his own voice surprising him. The room had begun to grow less oppressively dark, the soft touches of dawn light giving their little conversation a bizarre atmosphere. Hoseok leaned forward, grasping Namjoon’s hands.

“We can do it. We’ll bring him home, Namjoon.” the brownie really did smile then, features lighting up. The shifter felt his mouth twitch in response, new hope coursing through his veins. There was still a chance, a way for him to make this right, and save the one who had saved him. Saved him in more ways that he had realized.

-

Hoseok explained what resources they had available, and Namjoon was in the midst formulating a plan even as he redressed his wounds and donned more travel appropriate clothing. He knew the capital better than the king probably did, and had plenty of practice sneaking in and out. Freeing a prisoner from the king’s hold would be an entirely different matter, and would probably be best done at the last minute. Just before the execution took place.

His gut pinched at the idea of putting Yoongi in harms way, but with the number of people he had and under the circumstances, he couldn’t see a much better option. The shifter had just finished lacing his boots, a small pack nestled beside him when two sets of steps entered the hall before the doors.

Namjoon looked up, only to find the brownie leading a petite looking boy with hair the color of blue hydrangeas and strangely fine robes. The lad couldn’t have been any taller than Yoongi, and was significantly slimmer. The shifter glanced at Hoseok for explanation. The brownie grinned, stepping aside to gesture at the boy, who was looking at Namjoon with much the same calculation as he had aimed at the other.

“This here is Jimin! He’s one of the fae of the Blackwood, and he said he’ll help.”

Ah, a fairy. That explained the faint aura of power that hovered around the blue haired man. As well as his finery and physique. The shifter stood, then bowed slightly.

“I thank you for your support, er, Jimin.” He said, trying at formal. The fairy waved him off with a small hand and an easy smile.

“No need for that. Tae is already tracking the fool king and his soldiers to keep an eye on your prince,” here the fairy’s cool expression morphed into a small pout, “and I’m worried about him. We’re on a deadline, so best we be off, yes?”

Namjoon blinked, then nodded in agreement. They really were on a time constraint. Already almost a day behind the king’s envoy, and he was sure the monarch would conduct the execution as soon as possible once he reached the capital. The shifter decided he liked this fairy’s attitude. Though...

“Tae?” He blinked at Hoseok and Jimin, even as he reached down to shoulder his pack.

Jimin was already headed to the door, muttering something under his breath about being ‘left behind’, and Hoseok just sighed, ushering Namjoon on after him.

“Taehyung is a sort of druid of the Blackwood. Like Jimin said, he’s the one trailing the king. He and Jimin are- ah never mind. You’ll see, now go!” he chuckled, stopping at the threshold even as the shifter stepped onto the snow, his legs beginning to fade as he let go of his physical form. “Good luck you guys. Be safe!”

Jimin turned long enough to wave energetically at the brownie, receiving the same before the brownie dissipated and the door closed. The fairy then faced Namjoon, grabbing his sleeve and taking off over the snow, his light form barely leaving footprints while the shifter’s heavy boots created deep holes in the chilly white ground cover.

“Common! Tae left us a direct trail from here, to save time. We gotta move fast if we wanna catch up to them in the capital.” The fairy urged, gauzy garments floating around him as he moved. He almost blended in with the landscape if Namjoon was looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

The fairy paused once they reached the dense line of the forest that surrounded the castle, and looked about. Seeing something the shifter wasn’t privy too, his expression brightened and he set off confidently into the trees, releasing Namjoon’s sleeve and apparently trusting him to follow. He did, glancing at the fae. He wondered why he was assisting at all, not knowing most fairies to be generous sorts. Why the druid Hoseok had mentioned was helping too he couldn’t say... but he wasn’t about to complain about it. Their assistance meant he might be able to- no, could bring Yoongi back.

The thought straightened his back quickened his pace, and Namjoon set out for the first time with a goal all his own, on a mission of his own making with the purpose to help someone. Someone dear to him.

Chapter Text

It took a whole day of travel in the Blackwood to meet up with the main path leading out of the forest. Namjoon suspected that would actually have been record time from their location given his fairy guide, but it still felt far too slow.

Jimin, as it turned out, was a little whirlwind of activity at almost all times. He flitted around trees, bounced over ditches and creaks and was the one who insisted Namjoon sleep a few hours the night before. The shifter had woken to a sackcloth full of berries at his feet and an energetic Jimin already antsy to get moving again. Namjoon wasn’t complaining.

He and Jimin didn’t really chat much, hadn’t even exchanged more than 5 words each the first day. Once they were on the path though, the fairy grew bored, and occasionally burst out with a little question or thought. It was helpful, keeping Namjoon’s mind off his worries a little bit at a time. Their conversations led him to discover that the much mentioned ‘Taehyung’ and Jimin were sweethearts. It certainly explained the fae’s insistence on seeing him as quickly as possible. Fairies were always protective of their chosen mates, though the shifter couldn’t remember one ever having a human lover. It wasn’t like he got to talk with many though, so who knew.

He also asked some questions, getting a feel for what Jimin could do and consulting him on the fairy’s role in his plan to make sure it would work. He’d had to make a few adjustments, but so far things were good. They just needed to get there.

It has been 6 days since they left Hoseok’s castle before Namjoon saw the walls of the capital city far in front of them. The party of two quickened their pace at the sight, eager for different reasons. Along the way, Namjoon drew up his hood and adjusted his pack, hunching his shoulders in preparation for their encounter at the guarded gates.

Jimin composed himself, straightening his robes and assuming a rather convincingly haughty air. It was strange, given what the shifter had learned of him in their brief interactions. Still, it would serve them well he supposed.

They covered the final distance, and passed slowly between the guards at the gate, looking for all the world like a noble fairy and their help. A common enough sight at this gate, closest to the mystical woods. The guards barely spared either of them a glance, but Namjoon still remained alert the whole time, ready for any sudden movements or to silence a sudden outcry of recognition should he need to. No such thing occurred, and he silently blessed the arrogance of the king that likely led him to disdaining to even putting up a wanted poster for the shifter.

Once they were out of sight of the gate, Namjoon straightened and Jimin relaxed his shoulders with a puff, grinning back at him.

“First obstacle, clear!~” he cheered, and the shifter threw him an alarmed look, glancing around to see if anyone had heard. Someone had.

A figure in a strange brown and green cloak had appeared at one end of the open alley they had paused in, and Namjoon had his hand halfway into its clawed shift before Jimin squealed beside him and bounded towards the figure. The cloaked man tossed back his hood, gave a boxy grin and met the fairy halfway, catching the smaller up in his arms and delivering an extremely enthusiastic kiss right on the lips that Jimin gladly returned.

Namjoon blinked. Blinked again. Then felt his face warm as he coughed and focused his gaze somewhere else, unused to such open displays of affection. Well... this must be Taehyung.

A few moments later Jimin was leading his companion back, their hands intertwined and grinning till his eyes turned to crescents. The druid behind him looked a mite more bashful but just as pleased, his handsome face glowing. Namjoon gave a somewhat awkward little bow, then looked around again for observers. They were in the clear.

“This is Tae! Tae, this is Namjoon, the one we’re gonna help steal his prince back.” The fairy announced. The shifter gave a strangled little sound. Jimin kept calling Yoongi “his prince” no matter how many times he’d explained that the phrasing didn’t make sense. He’d always been met with an unimpressed stare and a weird knowing silence that he didn’t understand and couldn’t seem to get an explanation about.

Taehyung turned to him, flashed another boxy grin and returned Namjoon’s bow with significantly more flair.

“Nice to meet ya.” The human hummed, voice deep, though in a different way than Yoongi’s. “We don’t have a lot of time I’m afraid. They’ve begun parading the prince to the square already.”

The energy of the group didn’t necessarily drop, but it certainly sobered at the news. The shifter gave a stiff nod, mouth tightening as he reached into his cloak. He withdrew a piece of parchment and unfolded it to reveal a rough map of the city center, most specifically the square where the execution would be conducted. Right in the busiest area, where the king could be sure of his largest audience. Namjoon felt his resolve harden as he laid out the map and began catching Taehyung up on the current plan.

They had one shot at this, an all or nothing gamble. He wasn’t just playing with his own life either, but he couldn’t back down. Not when it was Yoongi’s life on the line.

-

Jimin had just signaled that Taehyung was in position when the crowd filling the square began to buzz. The procession had arrived. Namjoon tugged at his hood to make sure the shadow would conceal his face, cautions even though he was otherwise hidden, and watched from his second story window. Below the window, Jimin turned around and sank back under the lintel and out of the shifter’s sight, but he knew he was still there.

Their plan was simple, perhaps too simple, but maybe simple was best. There were so many ways this could go wrong, why add to the count with unnecessary complications. Plus, time was of the essence in this endeavor. Absolutely imperative in fact. Namjoon just prayed that Taehyung was as good with a bow as the other two had told him he was.

The noise from the crowd escalated as drums and trumpets heralded the arrival of the king and his entourage. The shifter ground his teeth together. The damned man was making a spectacle of the whole affair. It made him feel somewhat sick.

The faint nausea was nothing compared to when he spotted their ‘target’ over the heads of the crowd. The king was at the head of the group, but the hidden individual barely spared him a glance, instead focusing a few rows of soldiers back.

Yoongi was still in the same garb as when he’d left the castle from what Namjoon cold see, a robe far too light for the biting temperature even here in the capital. The prince was being led between two guards, ropes secured around his wrists and around his torso, trapping his arms to his sides with leads extended to either guard.

It wasn’t as if Yoongi looked like he was in any shape to fight. Even at this distance the shifter could see his uneven gate, the pale complexion of his skin. If he’d been ill when he left, the man was haggard now, head bent as he walked with as much steadiness as he could likely manage between his escorts.

Namjoon didn’t realize his grip had tightened on the window sill until the wood cracked loudly beneath his fingers, splinters poking at his flesh. He glanced down and released his hold, rubbing his hands. It wouldn’t do to get injured for any reason before the fact. Best perhaps to keep his hands to himself before he tore out the wall frame. While likely an extremely satisfying outlet for his current tension, it would only draw attention he didn’t want...

Finally, the procession reached the raised platform at its center, an old, sturdy thing made of wood, with a plank arch over the middle and levers in front of three specific spots along its length. The hangman’s dais. The shifter had seen many criminals meet their end on that platform, a few of which he’d apprehended himself.

There was only one rope in evidence today.

His stomach did an unpleasant roll.

Their moment was coming, and he would need to be quick. It was time to take up his own position.

Tearing his eyes away from the scene as the king walked up the steps, preparing to give some speech, Namjoon slipped away from the window and around to another. Climbing onto the sill, he reached around and grabbed the edge of the thatched roof, thanking the heavens they’d found a vacated house near enough to their goal to utilize.

With a small grunt and moment of strain, he swung himself out of the window and onto the roof. It was a somewhat awkward sprawl, his muscles still unused to such movements after his recovery, but he managed. Rolling a little further up the roof, he rose into a crouch and stared down at the alley bellow.

Perfect timing.

From the far end, a man in all black emerged from the side streets, adjusted his heavy cloak and mask, then began heading towards the crowd. The people were already pushing and shoving each other to the sides in preparation for his arrival and walk to the platform. The executioner.

Namjoon has always thought the role somewhat stupid. Why have a special job just for someone who pulled the lever to drop the platforms under the condemned’s feet? But today, he found himself thanking the idiot who instated the position.

Quiet as he could, the shifter moved along the roof till he was just above the plodding figure, then he let out his breath, mentally steadied himself, and jumped. Namjoon landed directly on the bulky man’s shoulders, and before the human could utter so much as a squeak of surprise, the shifter locked his legs around his neck to cut off his air and dealt him a short, bruising blow to the temple. The man fell like a tree, and Namjoon had to lean back to make sure he fell out of sight of the crowd, leaping away at the last second. He was on the fallen figure, freeing him of cloak and mask before the dust had begun to settle.

When the black garbed form stepped around the corner of the house into the road, it was the shifter himself who received the crowds’ unknowing cheers. His skin crawled beneath the dark garment at the force of so many eyes on him, but he couldn’t afford to falter now. He began his deliberate trudge forwards.

“-my own heir! And he tried to kill me! Not only that, but this cur dared to coerce and subvert my own people against me. And that is why he has been sentenced to death, for treason against the realm! Let it be known that not even a prince can escape the crown’s justice!”

The king’s speech was still going. Namjoon would have liked to stick his fingers in his ears and block the tripe dripping drivel out, but as he couldn’t, he distracted himself by focusing on his goal even as he came closer and closer to the platform.

They had Yoongi paused at the base of the stairs to one side of the hangman’s dais, and didn’t begin to pull him up till the “executioner” started his own ascension. As such, the shifter lost sight of the prince for a moment till they were both at the top, and- and now it was his heart that clenched.

They led, or rather tugged the prince to the single noose hanging in the middle of the arch by the leads they’d attached to his bindings. Even as Yoongi stood before the rope, he swayed faintly, still unable to lift his head even as a barrage of insults and profanities were hurled at him from the crowd. Someone even through a rock, though small, which struck one shoulder and clattered to the wood boards at his feet.

The prince barely flinched, either too tired to care or to react, his unkempt hair falling in the way of Namjoon’s view of his eyes.

The shifter’s nausea returned two fold, but he quickly caught up to the guards as they undid their leads and stepped back, leaving just Yoongi, Namjoon the “executioner”, and the king at the front of the platform. The monarch began some monologue about the importance of maintaining order with strict law in the background, but the shifter couldn’t care any less.

Yoongi was there. He was alive and within arms reach. Namjoon could reach out and touch him if he wanted. The man had grown thinner even in the days since Namjoon saw him leave the palace. His shoulders were hunched against it all, and his eyes... his eyes and his features displayed naught but a sort of bone deep weariness and acceptance.

The prince had already acknowledged that he would die today, hated, cursed, and alone. And he had come to an odd peace with it.

Somehow, it made the shifter angry. Mad without direction or clear motive, just a knowledge that he wanted very much to shred, destroy, and otherwise rid the world of whatever or whoever had caused this stubborn, strong prince to lose hope.

He stood perhaps a foot away from Yoongi, right beside the lever that would drop the platform from beneath the prince’s feet. He only stepped forward to grab the noose to ease around the prince’s neck, and that was when Yoongi finally looked up. And right up to meet his stare.

Immediate recognition flashed through that liquid brown gaze, even though all that was visible of the shifter was his own eyes. They both froze, and Namjoon’s mind raced. He leaned closer, not letting his own gaze leave the prince’s for even a second.

“This time, I save you.” he murmured, barely loud enough for Yoongi to hear, and... warmth bloomed behind the royal’s faintly glassy gaze, and he gave the faintest nod of his head.

All at once, the shifter felt heat prickle behind his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to dissipate it, kicking himself into motion once more. Time, time was of the essence. He couldn’t lose track of time or miss his own signals and mess up the plan. He.could.not.

Dropping the noose the rest of the way, he eased it tighter and stepped away, back towards the lever. This next part was the trickiest, and he noticed he was clenching his jaw again only when it began to ache. The king drew to a close of his long winded speech, and turned to face them.

He threw a dismissively short look of distaste at the prince, then faced Namjoon in his all black robes. He was smirking like it was his birthday. The shifter wanted to tear his face off. Perhaps another time...

“Hang the traitorous bastard!” The monarch bellowed, all drama and posture. A fine spectacle to his people, who cheered as Namjoon set his hand on the lever. He looked back to the prince, who was watching him with calm curiosity. He was trusting the shifter, he realized.

Without further delay, Namjoon pulled the lever, turned, and flung himself from the platform.

Books and stories tell of time slowing when events come to a head, but the shifter rather felt like everything sped up, becoming a blur of action and reaction, with no time to think, only do.

It took a second for the mechanism to engage, the platform falling out from under Yoongi just as a hissing sounded through the air, and a long, triangle tipped arrow thudded deep into the wood of the arch, neatly severing the rope. The prince fell all the way through with the cut noose trailing after him, and right into Namjoon’s waiting arms.

The crowd was silent in utter shocked confusion, giving the shifter time to set Yoongi down on
His feet and slash his bindings with his claws. Then he grabbed the human man’s shoulders and met his gaze once more.

“Can you run?” He asked. The prince’s mouth quirked in a barely perceptible smile, and he reached up to grab one of the shifter’s hands.

“Lead the way.” His voice was cracked, rusty from disuse and a little weak, but it sent a wave of inexplicable relief through Namjoon. He felt himself smiling now, and didn’t trust his voice not to shake if he spoke again, so he merely nodded and turned.

The crowd was beginning to unfreeze, and the shifter waited to dive in among them, praying to the last member of the party to work quickly. Jimin did not disappoint.

A pillar of fire as tall as a two story house shot up in front of the building where the fairy was hidden, and began rushing at the gather crowd. It left a trail behind it, and all stumbled, rushed, pushed and jostled to get out of its way shied even further back as the flames cut a swath through the thronging humans towards the platform. Screams of surprise and a few cries of pain arose as they moved away, some shoved back into range of the heat by the swirling sea of bodies.

Within seconds, the fire had reached the platform and flared around the edge, the flame taking on a life of their own as the swept to claim the old wood. More shouts could be heard above as guards previously rushing to jump after the runaway prisoner now had to rush to save their king. The two beneath them barely noticed, as Namjoon took off down the opened path lined in fire towards the backstreet it led to, Yoongi right behind him, their hands still linked.

The path of fire closed in their wake and slowly snuffed out with nothing but dirt on the ground to fuel it, while the flames on the platform continued to blaze, smoke beginning to rise as it ate away the blood stained timber.

Jimin stumbled out of his alcove once they reached the house line, his normally rosy features pale from the exertion of the magic he’d just employed, even as he fell in beside them in their dash to the safety of back alleys and winding streets. Yoongi made a grunt of surprise at seeing the fairy, though he only had time and breath to give the fae man a pat on the shoulder as they ran. He received a breathy but bright smile in return, before all attention was given to losing the pursuit that had organized and finally begun to give chase.

This was the part of the plan Namjoon hadn’t been able to map. There were too many variables in the escape, and while he hadn’t liked it, they’d had little choice. News of the runaways spread like wildfire through the city almost faster than they could run, and city guards and patrols would appear before them without warning, making the shifter have to divert their path.

Taehyung has joined them for a brief moment, nodded to Namjoon and then split off with Jimin. They had more of a chance of loosing their pursuit with more than one group.

Their pace was good, but not sustainable. Namjoon knew it, and so did Yoongi. The prince was making a truly unbelievable effort, but as their dash dragged on one around one turn or redirection after another, his breathing became increasingly unstable, his movements clumsy. It came to a head when Yoongi stumbled suddenly while they crossed a wide stone bridge, and fell into the shifter. They went down. Hard. The shifter tried to catch and cushion the prince’s fall, but the rock slabs that made up the bridge were far from forgiving.

It took a moment before Namjoon could begin to move, everything aching, his lungs on fire, but they had to keep moving. He rose to his knees and propped Yoongi up as gently as he could with one arm, checking his condition. It was bad. Even through the robe the shifter could tell the prince was far too warm to be healthy, his breathing sounding rapid and ragged. His gaze was unfocused, even as he tilted his head up to look at the shifter.

“I’m... sorry... Namjoon... could you... help me up...” he wheezed. The shifter’s chest felt like it was constricting so hard it might implode at any second, a fresh sort of pain lancing through his heart. He gritted his teeth as he nodded, realization of the inevitable seeping into his mind as the distant sound of clinking steps drew closer.

“Of... of course.” He muttered, rising to his feet and slinging Yoongi’s arm around his shoulders to take some of his weight. It was slow, but they managed to stand together, and the prince let out a shaky breath. Then he looked up at Namjoon, and the shifter saw the same quiet knowledge of the circumstances there. The prince did not panic, merely turned faintly.

“Come... let's walk to the top... this bridge has one of the best views in the city.” He said, short exhales sending little clouds of steam into the air. Namjoon nodded numbly, and ignoring the shouts in the background and calls of “There!” began slowly walking with Yoongi further up the bridge.

Everything hurt. From his body to the knowledge that he had been so close. So achingly close... but he had failed once again.

The prince brought them to a stop when he was satisfied, and turned his head to gaze out over the rocky river bellow. The flowing water glistened in the faint winter sunlight, and the snow on its banks sparkled alongside it. The sight was so tranquil, a jarring juxtaposition to their current predicament, and the shifter found himself studying the Yoongi’s features instead of the scenery. Even now, worn by illness, travel and captivity, he was... entrancing.

The prince glanced back at him, and upon catching the shifter’s gaze, a slow smile lifted his mouth. He turned, and gently slid his arms around Namjoon’s waist, pulling him close and tucking his head against the taller’s chest. The shifter twitched in surprise, but found his own arms wrapping instinctually around Yoongi’s back, holding him.

He was warm. His embrace caused an indescribably peaceful feeling to come over Namjoon, and his head dropped, face buried in the prince’s mussed hair.

The sound of armored feet hitting flagstones echoed. The search parties had reached the bridge. From either side it sounded like, but Namjoon didn’t care to look up.

“Thank you, Namjoon... thank you.” The faintly muffled voice rose, and the shifter eased back slightly, looking into Yoongi’s face. A wide array of emotions he’d never seen before currently played over the other man’s features, and Namjoon could tell the expression of gratitude meant more than he could fathom. Yet he shook his head.

“I-...” his voice cracked, lost in the pounding of footsteps and the rush of the river far bellow. He swallowed, opening his mouth to try again and-

The river.

By the gods, the river.

Suddenly, Namjoon leaned forward to be on eye level with the prince, and his hands slid up to grip his shoulders.

“Do you trust me, Yoongi?” He asked, a little urgently. The prince blinked.

“Yes.” Was the unhesitant reply.

Joy, exhilaration and hope surged through the shifter’s veins and he nodded, turning and stepping to the stone rail at the side of the bridge. His hands slid down Yoongi’s arms till he could grip both of the prince’s hands at once, and he lifted one leg over the rail, straddling it.

He turned, tugging on the prince’s hands and putting his back to the long open space behind and below. Understanding sparked in Yoongi’s gaze, and worry. Worry that radiated outwards. Worry for Namjoon. Despite himself, despite everything, the shifter felt a smile quirk his mouth as he released the prince’s hands and embraced him instead, drawing him close once again.

“All will be well.” He whispered, the soft quality of his voice a not matching the fierce glare he leveled at the soldiers that had begun to ring them in, spears leveled and pointing. He felt Yoongi relax against him, nodding into his shoulder.

Namjoon took one final shaky breath, and tipped backwards. The last thing he saw was the shocked faces of the soldiers, before he shut his eyes and tightened his hold, he and his prince plummeting towards the rapid waters of the river bellow.

Chapter Text

Wind.

Fast and harsh, all around him.

Falling, he was falling.

Then suddenly, cold.

Bone deep, shocking cold.

No air.

No light.

So cold. Had to get to the surface.

Had to save him.

Coughing. Someone breathing nearby... Yoongi. Yoongi was alive... breathing. He was on land..?

Numb.

So numb...

Pain. Prickling pain. His arm...

Voices. Indistinct, yet familiar... Then they too faded.

Blackness. Nothing but his own hazy thoughts and feelings...

Then those too were gone...

Pain. This time overwhelming and sudden, sending white flashing behind his eyelids. Pain. Too much- too much-...

Nothing again.

-

He was... warm.

A fire crackled dimly in the background. A heavy blanket rested over his chest... and his arm... it hurt. His elbow hurt.

He tried to move, and received a harsh report from his body that sent a groan bubbling from his chest. The sharp pangs cleared his thoughts, and Namjoon’s eyes flew open.

A ceiling. A familiar wood ceiling above his head, a familiar bed beneath him. A familiar smell all around. Of pine and spices...

He blinked, another grumble rising from his chest as he managed to twitch the fingers of one hand. The shifter heard a low intake of breath off to his side, and suddenly a face was hovering over him.

Yoongi. Yoongi was there, dark brows scrunched together, his features drawn. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, worry lines radiating from around his mouth. His face looked thinner than Namjoon remembered. But he was alive. He was okay. He was here, in the brownie’s castle.

For that matter, so was the shifter. He blinked, slowly gaining some control of his limbs. He wasn’t dead from the neck down, as it turned out, just terribly stiff. He turned his head, gazing up at the prince, his right arm lifting from his side faintly. He wanted to reach out, to touch the other and make sure this was real.

Yoongi was staring back just as intently, searching his face. One hand came up and rested against Namjoon’s forehead, before the prince let out a shuddering breath and sank onto the side of the bed from where he stood. His hand was warm against the shifter’s face, and he turned into it faintly. Yoongi didn’t pull away, letting his fingers trail down to rest against Namjoon’s cheek.

“Namjoon... can you hear me?” The prince asked, his voice sounding scratchy for some reason. The shifter blinked at him, then opened his mouth to reply. It took a couple tries to get his vocal cords working, and Yoongi waited patiently, watching him still.

“Aye... ‘m alright.” He managed, swallowing to try and wet his throat. Something like pain flashed through the prince’s eyes, and he looked down at his lap, guilt mixing with the concern.

“You!-... it was bravely done... but... I’m...” Yoongi bit his lip, his hand falling away from Namjoon’s face as his own contorted in a fashion the shifter had never seen before. He looked... he looked like he was about to...

“I’m sorry...” he finally finished, shoulders hunching in on themselves as his eyes closed over whatever welled in them.

Namjoon was confused. Sorry about what? He shifted, wanting to sit up and put himself on a better level with Yoongi, to ask him what was wrong. His body responded, if slowly, and he began to rise. One arm came back to prop him on his elbow, and his other... He faltered as he was met with... nothing.

He looked down.

Understanding, sick and sudden overwhelmed him, and he almost fell back again.

Ah.

His left arm from the elbow down was... well, it was simply gone. The bicep and shoulder where wrapped thickly in bandages, and the shifter could only stare at the empty space dumbly, processing the absence. It was... just... not there.

It must’ve- the river-

The prince noticed his motion and looked up, then into his face. Fresh renditions of the same emotions as before flooded his expression, but he had pressed his mouth into a resolute line. His shoulders straightened.

“Do you want help?” Yoongi’s ever deep, quiet voice sounded unusually small. Namjoon looked up to meet his eyes, and could only nod vaguely. The prince moved closer on the bed, tucking one leg beneath him as he turned to bring one arm around the shifter’s back, easing him into a sitting position.

Namjoon twisted before he could pull away, wrapping his whole arm around Yoongi’s waist and holding him close. His face fell to the crook of the prince’s neck, and he inhaled deeply, then exhaled just as slow. It came out ragged, despite his efforts. Yoongi said nothing, just wrapped his own arms around the shifter’s back and embraced him tightly.

It was Namjoon who broke the silence first.

“We’re alive... Yoongi... we’re alive.” He murmured. A shudder went through the prince and his arms tightened. When he replied, his voice was hoarse.

“Aye... we’re alive... thanks to you. You saved us. Saved me. Protected me-“ his words broke off, and the shifter felt a weight on the side of his head, Yoongi resting his against him. Something wet found his scalp. The prince’s breathing was uneven, and more tears fell onto Namjoon’s shoulder.

The shifter’s own eyes blurred, and he screwed them shut. It only squeezed the liquid out to trail down his face. Emotions, feelings of all kinds and intensities whirled through him like a storm. Pain, relief, hope, happiness, and so many more and so many in betweens he couldn’t begin to count. And one, overwhelming and all encompassing that he couldn’t put a name too. Something warm and soothing that only made the tears come faster as he held Yoongi close.

He raised his head, and shifted till the prince did the same, his wet face mirroring the other’s. Namjoon leaned forward, resting his forehead against Yoongi’s, and somehow, a smile lifted his lips.

“It’s alright... I’m alive, you’re alive. It’s...enough.” He said, meeting Yoongi’s dark, shining eyes. The prince stared back, searching, as if trying to find the lie, the blame, the anger that he seemed to have been leveling on himself. When he found none, fresh tears spilled over in his eyes and Namjoon felt the other’s hands fist in the shifter’s robes.

Namjoon himself continued to smile despite the tracks of wetness on his own cheeks, and slowly hugged Yoongi’s thin frame against him, content to just have the other close, real and safe with him.

He didn’t know how, but they fell asleep like that; two weary souls wound together, too grudging of the other’s company to let go.

-

It was hazy, but somehow deeply contenting to wake with the prince tucked against him, his warmth and scent so immediate and near and comforting... Namjoon loathed to move, but experimentally flexed his left shoulder. It was alien, and unsettling to lift it and feel no weight where his forearm and hand would have been. If he forgot for a second, his mind tricked him into thinking it was still there... then he would move it and the disconcerting impressions would come rushing back. He frowned at it, letting it rest back on his side, turned onto his right as he was.

Yoongi shifted faintly in his slumber, arms flexing around Namjoon’s waist, and he glanced down at the other. He was so near... the shifter gazed down at the prince’s sleeping form, his fine features illuminated only by the soft glow of morning light.

He was... beautiful, the shifter supposed. Namjoon had never given much consequence so people’s physical forms unless it involved their vital points, but he didn’t get tired of looking at Yoongi, admiring all he saw.

He wanted to map his every feature, perhaps understand what made this man so entrancing to him...

Yoongi’s eyes blinked open, bleary, and slowly rose to meet the shifter’s stare. Strangely, in the tranquil chamber, Namjoon didn’t feel abashed upon being caught, only looked back calmly. The prince’s breathing deepened, and he didn’t move a muscle for a long time, thoughts running behind his gaze.

Namjoon had once thought him stoic and unreadable, but no. Yoongi’s ways of expressing himself were simply subtle, and you had to learn when and where to watch to catch them. When you did, there was much to see, a keen intellect and a thoughtful individual with endless reactions to observe.

“I didn’t want to see you hurt again... I failed...” the prince stated, barely above a whisper. Guilt flitted behind his eyes, but the shifter was already shaking his head.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He frowned, trying to understand why Yoongi kept taking responsibility for things that he had no business being guilty for. It was the prince’s turn to shake his head, averting his gaze.

“I do. The king was after me. If not for me... you wouldn’t have been caught up in this fight.” He said simply, as if it made total sense. Namjoon disagreed, confusion mixing with his irritation.

“That’s ogre shite. Why is he so intent on you anyway... Did you really try to kill him...?” He inquired, curiosity on the matter that he’d harbored since he’d begun questioning his orders surfacing and given voice at last. Yoongi glanced at him for a moment, adjusting his position slightly where he lay. It took him a while to answer, to the point where the shifter began to worry he’d somehow offended him.

“I wish. He-... he’s been like that since he realized I wasn’t of his blood.” The prince explained. Namjoon’s eyes widened, and he stared at Yoongi in partial shock. That- that was a big reveal, and the man said it like he was delivering news of the weather. The prince shrugged upon seeing his expression, and his mouth twitched.

“The Queen had an affair, and it was by her lover that I was conceived. The king wasn’t happy about it, as you can imagine.”

The shifter was still lost for words. Aye, he could imagine, and a lot of things made sudden sense. The assassination attempts, the false rumors... The king couldn’t just kill Yoongi outright without revealing that his wife had been unfaithful, thus bringing dishonor to his own name... so he’d tried to dispose of him behind the scenes. For years and years, and finally resorted to accusing him falsely of treason.

All of this, and it didn’t change his stance one bit.

“Yet still, you have nothing to apologize to me for.” Namjoon insisted. The prince frowned.

“I-“ he began, but the shifter leveled a flat stare at him.

“It was my decisions, my choices that led to this. You are not allowed to blame yourself for what is mine to claim.” He interjected, quiet but firm. He would do it all again if it meant Yoongi was safe... The prince watched him, then the ghost of a smile twitched at his face.

“Is that an order, skin changer?”

The shifter’s answering smile was a little wider, and he closed his eyes, relaxing into the soft pillows once again.

“Perhaps...” he hummed, and felt a snort through Yoongi’s chest, resting on his whole arm. There was quiet for a time, then the prince made to sit up.

“There is time yet till the others realize you’re awake. Sleep.” He murmured. Namjoon cracked an eye open and quirked a brow. Others...? Yoongi saw the expression and his lips twitched.

“Jimin and Taehyung, not to mention Hoseok. I think Hoseok already knows, but is managing to restrain himself. The other two though... they were the ones who helped carry you back. They’ve insisted on staying till you were better.” Now the prince really did smile. “I think they’ve taken a shine to you.”

The shifter felt a little bubble of happiness rise in his chest at the news. He nodded to acknowledge the words, then closed his eyes again. He didn’t let go of Yoongi. Indeed, he pulled him back down and closer with his one arm around the other’s back. The prince made a startled noise as Namjoon tucked his head under his own chin.

“You need to rest.” Yoongi muttered, and the shifter nodded absently against him, already beginning to doze off again.

“I am...” he huffed, words faintly slurred. He felt an exhale against his collarbones, the prince sighing, but the man made no more moves to escape, relaxing into him once more. It was... cozy, he felt was the right word. Comfy and warm and right. And all too easy to fall back asleep despite his efforts to savor the moment...

-

The next time he woke, it was around midday, and he was quickly swamped by the energetic fae folk and equally fidgety human hunter. He’d barely sat up, trying to be careful of waking Yoongi when the door had burst open, Jimin and Taehyung falling thorough and Hoseok appearing near the foot of the bed.

Their enthusiasm quickly roused the prince, but he just gave a tired smile and rolled off the bed, wobbling off somewhere while Namjoon was left to handle the others’ questions. Through them, he learned he’d been asleep all through their journey back, and for a good 2 days on top. They’d been terrified he wouldn’t wake up again, and he felt a pang go through his chest upon recalling Yoongi’s face when he first regained consciousness, worn by worry and looking like he hadn’t slept in far too long.

The prince himself came back as things were settling down, carrying a tray of mugs and a pot of tea. There was enough to go around, and the strange group sat around or on the bed with Namjoon, chatting and discussing the events of the rescue and the time leading up to it. He didn’t contribute much, but a deep sort of contentedness settled in him at the activity all around.

These people were strange, mixed and hardly a group you’d ever expect to find, but they all meant a lot to him, even those he’d technically only known a day or two. It was just nice having cheerful conversation and banter all around, the energy of the room seeping into him and elevating his own mood.

Eventually, the prince did shoo Jimin and Taehyung out, saying if they were going to continue staying in the castle they might as well help him prepare the evening meal. They went cheerfully enough, throwing well wishes and half hearted pleas for rescue over their shoulders until the door closed, leaving Hoseok and Namjoon alone.

The brownie stared after them with a grin on his face.

“I think those two will be staying around longer than they think. It’ll be nice to have more bodies in this big place.” He commented. The shifter nodded, settling back into his cushions carefully. When the brownie turned back, he eyed Namjoon’s left arm, then his face.

“How’re you feeling?” He asked. The shifter got the impression he meant more than physically. Namjoon let out a breath, lifting the incomplete limb experimentally. It still twinged of course, but was otherwise surprisingly fine. Jimin had mentioned contributing some healing magic, so that was probably the reason. Then he shrugged.

“It’s... it’s weird. My mind hasn’t really realized it’s gone yet, so I’ll go to move the blankets, but there’s no hand... stuff like that.” He replied. The absence was unsettling, confusing and sometimes upsetting, but he couldn’t bring himself to lament it. Not when he knew what he had gained in return.

“I’m... I’ll be alright.” He added, meeting Hoseok’s gaze steadily. The brownie watched him, then nodded, smiling.

“Okay. Well, you’ve had others around since you woke up. I’ll let you have some time to yourself, ey?” he said, starting to fade from the feet up. Namjoon’s mouth quirked, and he was about to dispute that when he realized... it was true. He supposed he hadn’t given much thought to it when Yoongi was there with him. It felt so natural when he was there... different. The shifter tilted his head faintly, not catching the amused quirk of Hoseok’s features as he seeped into the floor, too wrapped up in his thoughts.

Yoongi was... well, Yoongi was different. Namjoon couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt so at ease when the other was around. And he had begun to feel this strange tug, the desire to get closer, be in the prince’s space and have him in his, just to feel his presence nearby.

It was probably residue protectiveness, he reasoned, a want to make sure Yoongi was safe... After all, what else could it be..?

-

Namjoon was distracting himself with moving and experimenting with his severed arm when the door opened. He glanced up from it, letting out a sigh. Yoongi has entered with two bowls in hand, walking carefully to avoid dropping or spilling them. He looked up in time to see what the shifter had been doing, and Namjoon saw the flicker of acute remorse behind his eyes, before he smiled faintly, coming to sit on the edge of the bed and hand one bowl to the other.

Namjoon took it carefully with his hand, resting it on his thighs and taking the spoon propped on one side. This concoction smelled different than usual, and resembled a thick stew as opposed to the soup he’d become so accustomed to. He glanced up to Yoongi and quirked a brow. The prince let out a chuckle, stirring his own as he pulled one leg up to tuck under him.

“It pays to have help while cooking, even if they are easily distracted.” He said, replying to the shifter’s silent question. Namjoon got an image of Jimin and Taehyung running about the kitchen and grinned slightly.

“Where are they?” The shifter inquired, bending forward to sip some of the gravy cautiously. It tasted good..! Really good. Yoongi must be in a good mood. The prince shook his head, giving the shifter a meaningful glance.

“Don’t know. They wanted to have dinner alone.” He said, going back to his own food, hissing as he accidentally shoved some in his mouth without cooling it. Namjoon snorted as Yoongi stuck out his tongue in dismay, likely having just scalded it a bit. Then the implications of the prince’s words sank in, and the shifter felt his face warm.

“Energetic lot... aren’t they...” He muttered, half to himself. Yoongi nodded, distracted as he went cautiously back to eating, this time attentive to blowing on his stew first so as not to repeat the earlier mistake, his mouth pursed. Namjoon coughed and did the same, and they ate in relative silence.

Yoongi has placed their bowls aside when the shifter finally spoke up, watching the other.

“How are you?” He asked. A simple enough question, but with weight behind it. He could have answered it himself, given how much weight the prince had lost, the circles that hadn’t disappeared with just one night’s sleep. He wasn’t sick anymore, but neither was he well. Yoongi stilled for a moment, then eased back onto the mattress beside the shifter and gazed at his lap.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He replied, trying to put some humor behind it, but the angle of his shoulders belied the tone. Namjoon didn’t speak, just waited. Slowly, the prince turned till the shifter saw his profile. His brows were drawn.

“I... was scared.” He murmured. The shifter nodded. It made sense, he’d been in a terrifying position, anyone would have- “I was scared I’d lose you.”

Namjoon’s thoughts ground to a halt, and Yoongi’s eyes finally rose to meet his. They held all the worry, fear, and strain he must have felt, all at once. It stole the shifter’s breath away, robbing him of any reply he might have formed.

“Please... promise me never to do something like that again. Don’t put yourself in danger for my sake.” The prince said, tone firm, stare searching for recognition and confirmation from the other. Namjoon’s lungs began to operate again, and he shook his head faintly, unable and unwilling to break Yoongi’s gaze.

“I can’t do that.” He replied, quiet, but just as stubborn. The prince’s lip caught between his teeth, before he let out a slow sigh, and tipped forward. His forehead came to rest on Namjoon’s shoulder. The shifter’s hand found Yoongi’s, or the prince’s found his, he wasn’t sure. Their fingers intertwined, and a heavy, but not uncomfortable atmosphere descended over them.

There was silence for a while, then he heard a small, frustrated noise from Yoongi.

“Dumbarse...” the man breathed, and a chuckle rose unbidden to the shifter’s mouth.

“We have that in common, it seems.” He replied, gently letting his head tip sideways to rest against Yoongi’s, feeling the other’s thumb rub circles over his knuckles. It sent a little shiver down his spine, and they lapsed into silence once again.

Chapter Text

It was all of two whole days after Namjoon woke before he insisted on getting up to walk around. His legs were fine, just stiff, and he really wasn’t keen on being confined to his, or rather Yoongi’s room again. It wasn’t that he disliked resting, especially now that Yoongi had taken to sleeping beside him- but that wasn’t the point. He just wanted to be up and about, and have a chance to explore what he had realized was his home without hurry or guilt hanging over his head.

The prince hadn’t disputed him, and in no time at all the shifter was on his feet, shrugging into a fresh, warm set of robes. The long sleeves completely draped over what remained of his left arm, and even fell near past his hand on the right. He looked down at it, intrigued by the cut and length of the garment. Yoongi turned back to face him from where he’d averted his gaze to the wall, and his mouth quirked.

“How’s it feel to wear something that actually fits?” He asked, stepping back to look Namjoon up at down. The shifter rather liked the motion, but turned his attention to the attire, blinking.

“I’ve never worn anything in this style, so I have little comparison, but... it’s nice.” he mumbled in reply, distracted as he rubbed the fine fabric between the thumb and forefinger. The prince smiled, and stepped forward, reaching up to adjust the fall of the over robe.

“Jimin and Taehyung decided to find you some things from storage when they heard you hadn’t done so. It looks like they got your measurements right.” Apparently satisfied with his work, Yoongi nodded, then looked up to Namjoon.

“Shall we?” He asked, stepping to the side and jestingly proffering his arm to the shifter like a gentleman of the court. The shifter felt an answering smile lift his face, and he slipped his hand around the prince’s elbow, giving a little bow.

“We shall.” He returned, making an absent mental note to thank the fairy and the druid later.

The two of them strolled down halls for a while, in no particular rush to go anywhere or any destination in mind. Yoongi mentioned that they should resume Namjoon’s reading lessons soon, and the shifter chuckled at the thought. They talked about little things here and there, before a question rose in Namjoon’s mind, and he glanced aside at the prince.

“Are we really... safe here? For sure?” He asked quietly. He felt the prince’s other hand rest on top of his, still tucked around Yoongi’s arm. The other man squeezed gently, nodding.

“Aye. After that drop into the river, the king has most certainly declared us both dead. There’s no one hunting us anymore.” he murmured, and the shifter felt a knot he hadn’t known existed unravel in his stomach. No one was after them. They were safe... they were free. A faintly breathy chuckle rose from his throat, and he shook his head.

“It is good, being dead.” He commented, feeling lighter somehow. The prince looked up at him, catching Namjoon’s eyes and grinning.

“Yeah. I guess it is.”

Their walk was relatively uninterrupted form then, at least, until they reached the entrance hall. It was only sort of on the route back to the bed chambers, but as they passed by, and unusual ruckus caught their attention almost simultaneously. Yoongi and the shifter exchanged glances, then changed course to check it out.

The scene they encountered was far from anything Namjoon expected, strange in its frozen quality.

Jimin and Taehyung stood a few feet from the open doors, stances somewhat defensive and hands half raised, staring. All their attention and wariness was directed at two unfamiliar figures that stood just inside the entrance. The shifter immediately went rigid, and felt Yoongi tense beside him as well. The last time they’d had intruders, it hadn’t gone well.

The figures were cloaked and hooded, with travel packs on their backs and little else in sight or evidence. They must have just come in, and Namjoon was faintly alarmed that Hoseok hadn’t alerted him or the prince of anything. Nor Jimin or Taehyung, by the looks on their faces.

By the arrangement of the situation at a glance, the strangers must have just entered, cloaks still dripping and body language betraying surprise, likely at the fairy and druid’s reaction. Of the two, one was slightly ahead of and in front of the other, arms partially raised in defense or placation. Which, Namjoon couldn’t be sure.

Yoongi almost immediately stepped forward and around, putting himself in front of the shifter, freeing his arm gently from the other’s grasp and the other slipping into a fold of his robes. The motion drew the attention of the tall stranger, and the seemingly frozen moment shattered as the figure’s hand shot out, pointing... excitedly?

“Your highness! There you are!” A clear voice rang out, and Namjoon was surprised to see the prince straighten abruptly in shock. Taehyung and Jimin spun to see where the man was pointing, and everyone in the room looked between the prince and the cloaked figure.

The taller one, still sort of ahead of the other, reached up and tossed his hood back. The plain fabric fell away from a shockingly handsome face that currently sported a wide smile. The shifter saw Yoongi instantly relax, withdrawing his hand from his robe and shook his head, a smile creeping over his features. Jimin and Tae looked as utterly bemused as Namjoon felt, and the second figure leaned nervously out from behind the first, also watching.

“Jin... I didn’t expect to see you again, let alone here. Who’s that with you?” the prince said, tone surprisingly relaxed when addressing the other. ‘Jin’ grinned and stepped aside, leaving the smaller cloaked individual out in the open, and reaching out to flick off his hood as well.

“I bet you didn’t. This here is Jungkook! I met him along the way.”

‘Jungkook’ was a man with large eyes and a youthful face, who nodded to everyone and bowed awkwardly, looking a mite flustered at all the sudden attention.

Namjoon was utterly lost, and he cleared his throat, reaching forward to tug on Yoongi’s sleeve to get his attention.

“What...um, what’s going on?” he asked, gaze jumping around as he tried to make sense of it all. The prince looked back at him, then to Taehyung and Jimin who were still sort of shell shocked off to the side. He reached up and rubbed his neck, almost wryly, then motioned with his hand to the broad shouldered individual.

“Of course, I’m sorry. This is Seokjin. He was the one who helped me escape the castle some months ago. I thought he stayed on after that.” He explained, turning to arch his brows at Jin, apparently wanting him to fill in the blanks. Seokjin laughed, a high sound that carried through the hall, and then shrugged.

“It was dangerous for me to stick around the king after that I’m afraid, so I set out on a journey! Always have wanted to travel. Imagine my surprise when I heard what went down back here! I was coming back to check on you when I met this kid.” Here the man paused, throwing an arm around the second cloaked man’s shoulders while the younger looked terribly unsure of what to do with himself. “We were both looking for the same castle, and Jungkook here said he knew whereabouts it was, so I tagged along.”

Ah. Well, that cleared up... a few things at least. Jimin and Taehyung still looked vaguely unsure if they were supposed to be on the offensive, but also relieved they didn’t have to fight. They weren’t really battling types. Yoongi nodded thoughtfully, and had opened his mouth as if he wanted to ask something else when a loud crash sounded off to one side.

Everyone whipped around to face one of the lesser used entrances to the hall, and pulled up short when they spotted none other that a certain brownie. Hoseok looked like he’d seen a ghost, staring wide eyed as he leaned against the shelf he’d stumbled against, the potted plant preciously resting atop now laying on the floor with its container shattered.

Slowly, the brownie worked his way to his feet, and he took a wobbly step towards the strange duo. Nobody moved, confusion and concern heavy in the air, until Hoseok lifted a shaky hand to his face.

“Are- are you really-... is your name really Jungkook? Are you- could you be Jeon Jungkook?” He asked, voice unsteady. The boy in question looked just as surprised, standing straight and seemingly unsure of what to do with his hands. Slowly, he nodded, big eyes searching.

Hoseok let out a strangled little sound, and Namjoon realized with a jolt that his eyes were glistening. The brownie took several deep breaths, even though this form was just a physical manifestation that didn’t need oxygen, he seemed to need the time.

“Were you, by any chance, a- an apprentice here... thirteen years ago?” Hoseok breathed. The boy across from him caught his breath, and abruptly his face bloomed into a smile. He nodded, once.

“Aye. I’ve made it back, Hoseok. I’m home.” He finally spoke, voice quiet in the frozen room.

Namjoon saw Hoseok move first, suddenly bounding forward. The young man stretched out just as the brownie almost barreled into him, wrapping arms tight around him like a lanky octopus and squeezing tight. Jungkook let out a wobbly laugh, and squeezed back just as tight.

Namjoon and Yoongi watched with fixed attention, one understanding the events somewhat better than the other. The shifter wasn’t privy to just who the boy was to Hoseok, but he got the impression someone very dear had returned after far too long away. The whole castle felt it, as he swore the temperature rose, the walls making faint sounds of movement and the windows in the hall opening and closing of their own accord.

Namjoon finally pried his eyes away to look at Yoongi, who had a small smile on his face. Jimin and Taehyung has sidled up too, and Taehyung looked back to the other two, who currently had Jin joining the hug, apparently just because he could.

“What’s going on?” the druid asked cautiously, quiet as if worried he’d disturb the other group in the room if he spoke above a whisper. The prince glanced at Tae, and Namjoon felt fingers wrap around his and gently squeeze, Yoongi releasing emotion he wasn’t sure how to express fully.

“I don’t know everything, but the magicians that built this place and spawned Hoseok lived here for... a good while. I couldn’t tell you how old the castle is. Thirteen years ago, the head of the order did something to anger a nearby kingdom and they were branded criminals, soon hunted down. Hoseok thought all of them had died in the siege but... it looks like someone made it.” He murmured. Namjoon squeezed back, understanding. The prince was happy for the castle spirit, and the shifter was too. He could imagine what it was like to discover you had family where you previously thought there was no one. He felt it must be similar to how he had felt when he realized how much the people here meant to him. How much Yoongi meant to him.

-

Once the excitement had died down a little bit, Yoongi had moved everyone to the library. The traveler’s cloaks were ferried away, and Taehyung and Jimin offered to get drinks. Currently, Namjoon and the prince sat across from Jin, while Jungkook and Hoseok sat a ways off in their own little corner, talking intently. Tears had been shed, happy tears, and now the two looked to be catching up. Taehyung and Jimin had joined them once they returned, and now the fairy, druid and brownie were listening to some story the young human was telling, all with wrapped attention, Jimin running his hand absently over Tae’s ruffled brown hair.

Jin was sipping his coffee, a special request, and glancing between the two opposite him.

“So, who are you?” he asked, gaze settling on Namjoon. The shifter gave a slightly uncomfortable half bow from his seated position, and cleared his throat. He hadn’t expected to be the focus of the newcomer’s attention.

“My name is Namjoon. Um... nice to meet you.” The shifter said. Seokjin’s features split on a smile, and Namjoon briefly wondered if the man had elven blood in his veins, given his physique and appearance.

“Formal one, aren’t you! No need to bow to a lowly carpenter like me, man. It’s a pleasure.” He replied, flicking his head mid sentence to get some rebellious black locks out of his eyes. The shifter nodded, not sure if he was supposed to reply verbally or not. He was comfortable around Yoongi and Hoseok by now, but he still wasn’t sure how to deal with making new acquaintances yet.

“If we’re dropping formalities, could you finally stop calling me ‘your highness’ now?” the prince commented from beside Namjoon. To the shifter’s surprise, Jin sent the prince an annoyed glance.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” He grumbled. Namjoon looked over at Yoongi, expecting him to be irked, but the prince just sat back, smiling into his tea, apparently amused. He jerked as Seokjin looked back at him, tilting his head.

“So, how did you get here?” he questioned. The shifter blinked and shifted in his seat. Stalling for time, he reached forward to grab his own previously untouched mug, not really sure how to put this...

“I uh... I was sent to kill him.” He finally replied, motioning with his head to Yoongi. Jin was caught mid sip, and nearly choked as he snorted into his cup. Then the man tipped his head back and gave a hearty peal of laughter. It was cut off by another half wheeze, and he continued to snort even as he tried to steady his endangered beverage, only further spurred on when he saw Namjoon’s taken aback expression. The shifter was genuinely worried about the man as he alternated chuckling and coughing, and in his distraction his grip on his mug loosened.

The drink half tipped, and Namjoon’s other hand flew out to stead it... except he didn’t have one, so the cup continued to fall as his incomplete limb lifted futilely to stop it. He felt the prince move beside him, and a deft hand slipped over his to prevent the impending spill. A few large drops did slosh out, but the whole experience was over in a few jarring seconds.

The three figures had frozen, Yoongi’s hand still over the mug and Namjoon’s own, as a they all breathed a collective exhale. Jin cleared his throat and set his mug safely down, looking a little chagrined. The shifter was more shaken than he felt he should have been, mostly due to the abrupt reminder of his arm. It kept happening like that, and he wondered how long it would take before he was used to it...

He murmured quiet thanks to Yoongi as the prince let go, and the other offered him a quiet smile, fingers brushing reassuringly over the shifter’s wrist as he leaned away. Namjoon decided to put his drink down as well, unwelcome frustration gnawing at his middle. It was the little things that got to him. Made him realize the big things that would follow.

He looked up to see Seokjin staring at him. Perhaps the shifter should have felt embarrassed, but there was an intense, analyzing look in the other’s eyes that stayed his reaction. The handsome man looked from him, to Yoongi, then back.

“If you don’t mind, can I see that arm?” He asked, voice suddenly serious.

Namjoon’s eyes widened, and he wasn’t sure how to answer... After a silent minute passed and no real excuse or reason to refuse presented itself to him, he gave a cautious nod. The prince had waited for his response, and scooted sideways towards one end of the couch once he gave it. Namjoon followed him and Seokjin got up, coming over to their sofa and sitting down again beside the shifter, turning his upper half to him.

Carefully, Namjoon lifted the wide sleeve of his robe to reveal the bandaged remainder of his bicep.

Something sparked in Seokjin’s eyes, and his head came up quickly, his gaze flicking between the other two, his shoulders tensing in what Namjoon took to be excitement.

“You said the blue haired boy over there is a fairy?” He asked. It wasn’t what either of them were expecting, and it was Yoongi who answered.

“Yes but... why? Jin, what is it?” Namjoon couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard a trill of realization and hesitant hope in the prince’s tone, even as he asked the question. Seokjin grinned, wide and bright, and looked directly into Namjoon’s eyes as he replied.

“With his help, I thinks I can make you a new arm.”

Chapter Text

“Do you fancy wood? Or leather?”

Namjoon looked over at Jin and his brows knit. It was such casual conversation and it startled him from his wandering thoughts. He tilted his head, glancing down at where the crafter who was currently measuring his upper arm and the severed end, making notations on a little pad of parchment beside him.

“Uh, wood?” he replied, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to. Seokjin looked up and smiled in approval, before resuming his task on the other side with the whole arm, seated beside the shifter in the workshop room Hoseok had showed him.

“Excellent choice. Wood will be easier for Jimin to enchant.” the crafter said, turning in his seat to look over his writing and double check everything. Namjoon watched him curiously, then looked around at all the materials they’d collected the day before.

After Jin’s announcement, there had been a burst of activity that ended in Yoongi insisting the travelers eat and rest before anything else. Namjoon had been in partial shock from the crafter’s offer, and hadn’t been able to contribute much to the dinner conversation as Jimin and Taehyung took over telling Jungkook and Jin the tale of the prince’s rescue. The human in question had sat beside Namjoon, almost just as quiet, and comfortingly close.

After dinner, the crafter pulled the fairy aside, and asked about his powers and what charms he knew. They were across the room, so Namjoon could make out little of what they said, but by the rising energy of their debate it must have gone well. After that, Hoseok had bustled Jin and Jungkook off to the bed chambers, and the rest of them had spent a quiet evening in the library.

The day after was when the gathering had begun. Jin dispatched nearly everyone in the castle to the storerooms to find what he needed, while he asked Hoseok about the facilities of the palace. They gathered everything from light durable sheets of timber to tiny metal gears and screws, sometimes poking into every corner of the annexes to find what the crafter requested.

At last though, he’d been satisfied, and now, morning of the third day, he was getting down to work. Starting with measurements, it seemed. Jin gave the shifter an absent thumbs up, signaling that he was done, and Namjoon let his sleeve fall back over the bandages as the other began sketching something on the corner of the parchment.

“I- um... thank you. For doing this I mean.” The shifter spoke up, shifting a little awkwardly on his seat. Seokjin raised his head, and a smile crossed his full mouth. He shook his head, sliding his quill behind one ear.

“No need for that. What you did for Yoongi... I could only do so much to help him get away, and it wasn’t enough. But now he’s dead to the world! Free as a bee! Because of you... so think of this as my thanks.” he replied, turning and picking up a piece of flexible wood off one side of the work table and eyeing it. Namjoon tilted his head.

“If wasn’t you’re fault he got taken again. If anything, it was mine. I only got him out of what I dragged him into.” he commented, the fingers of his one hand playing unconsciously with the edge of his robes. Seokjin let out an exasperated sigh and threw his hands up, almost chucking the materials he held.

“Oh for hell’s sake- Fine, just think of it as me thanking you for making him so happy then!” the crafter huffed, shooting the shifter a look that warned him not to argue further. Namjoon was too startled to dispute the matter, just confused.

“What..?” he asked, blinking. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking. Did he make Yoongi happy? Was he really the reason, or something else? Why had the crafter put it that way? Jin looked up and took in his expression, and arched one dark brow.

“He’s at a ease here, but it’s more than that... I don’t know how much I should tell you, but let’s just say he isn’t really one to get physically close to people. I’ve known him for 8 years and he’s hugged me all of three times total.” he explained, and the shifter almost frowned. But... Yoongi was close to him quiet often, and he couldn’t remember how many times the other had brushed his fingers over Namjoon’s or sat close, along with an array of other gestures... Seokjin watched his thoughts play across his face, and nodded.

“See?” he said, and the shifter could have sworn he saw a smirk on the man’s lips. “Now shoo, I’ve got work to do.” he suddenly announced, rising and ushering the shifter off his seat and towards the door. Namjoon went with little resistance, still thinking all of that over. He left the room feeling almost giddy, a smile pushing at his mouth.

With little else to do, the shifter stood in the hall for a long moment, before shaking himself and turning his feet towards the library. He still wasn’t an expert at navigating the castle halls, but he could usually find his way to a few main areas, the library being one. A few minutes later and he was pushing open the ever ajar door with an effort, and slipping inside.

Yoongi looked up from one of the couches in the sitting area, and raised a hand in greeting. The prince had his feet tucked under him, a large book in his lap, and looked perhaps the most relaxed Namjoon had ever seen him when he was awake. The shifter nodded back, changing direction slightly to pad over to the sofas.

Surprisingly, his little stack of books was still there, moved to the floor rather than the table, a few slid off to one side. He bent, running his fingers over the spines thoughtfully. He paused on one, a worn tome. The book he never finished before. Smiling, Namjoon wiggled it carefully from under the others and moved towards one of the chairs. A motion from his peripheral caught his attention, and he glanced over to see Yoongi shifting to one side on the couch. Almost without thinking, the shifter sat beside the prince, shoulders brushing.

The prince gave a soft hum, flipping his page with nary a peak at Namjoon. The shifter felt his chest buzz, and settled in with his own book, placing it in his lap and flipping pages till he found his spot.

They stayed like that, reading in easy silence, and Namjoon hadn’t even noticed which or when they’d leaned back. Yoongi was angled slightly, their hips pressed near and leaning on his right shoulder. He was warm, and the shifter leaned into him in return, gaze still focused on the pages before him.

Outside, snow began to fall pass the tall windows of the library, casting gentle dancing shadows on the wall above the fireplace. Namjoon heard muffled voices, and craned his neck once to see Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook tumbling about in the snow, chasing each other and chucking snowballs in a chaotic whirlwind of energy. He smiled faintly, happy to be indoors and comfortable, but pleased to watch them as well.

He felt a sudden extra weight on the crook of his shoulder, and blinked, turning back to find the prince’s head had fallen to rest against him. The man’s grip on his book had gone slack, and his breathing was deep and even. A slight lean forward to see his face revealed that, as expected, his eyes were closed.

Namjoon let out a little huff, shaking his head.

“What are you falling asleep on, ey?” He muttered, voice carefully hushed despite the words. He let go of his own book and reached over, careful to keep his shoulder as still as possible while his arm moved, pushing the prince’s tome off his lap to his other side, safely out of the way.

Yoongi’s hands, suddenly robbed of what they’d held involuntarily reached out, and Namjoon found his arm trapped before he could bring it back. He let out an indignant grunt, watching the smaller to see if he could get it back. It didn’t seem likely.

He let out a resigned sigh, his lips quirking despite himself, and stared down at Yoongi. Jin’s comments from earlier rose to mind just then, and he felt his cheeks heat. This strange prince had the most bizarre ability to make his core feel warm and tingly. He’d dragged Namjoon out of the woods and somehow simultaneously out of his shell, and he couldn’t put his finger on how, but he was so very grateful the this kind, quiet human.

The shifter was no good at delivering his thoughts and feelings through words, he knew. He did better at action, and just then he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the top of the sleeping Yoongi’s head for a moment.

He cared for this human. He didn’t know quite how much then, but he knew the prince had become an irreplaceable existence to him. Someone he would and had risked life and limb for, and someone for whom he’d do it all over, just the same if need be. Someone he would keep safe, just as Yoongi had made him feel.

-

Namjoon must have drifted off, because he was suddenly waking up to voices sounding loudly through the halls. He blinked and squinted into the light of the fire, the walls now painted in the warm hues of eventide. His head was resting atop Yoongi’s and the prince was stirring as well, nose scrunching at the noise as he cracked one eye.

The first thing he seemed to notice was where he was. Then the grip he had on Namjoon’s arm and his position. Yoongi started upright, letting go and glancing up at the shifter, then clearing his throat. The shifter noted that the man’s ears were flushed, and found that detail too fascinating to bother being flustered himself.

“‘m sorry about that.” the prince muttered, stretching out his legs with a wince as he glanced back at Namjoon. The shifter shook his head, rolling his shoulder as both shrug and stretch.

“No need.” He replied, then looked to the door. “They got noisy, didn’t they?” he commented. Distracted from his apparent embarrassment, Yoongi looked over too, pursing his mouth.

“Aye, it’s gotten lively around here.” He didn’t sound displeased, despite his expression, and Namjoon nodded, rising with a grunt as his back made a cracking noise.

“Shall we go check it out?” he inquired, turning and offering his hand jestingly to the prince. The royal cracked a smile and took it.

“We shall.”

The ruckus turned out to be Jin calling for Jimin, and the fairy crashing about as he tried to dry off and dash to answer him, Jungkook and Taehyung not helping matters by getting excited and dripping melted snow everywhere as the three came in from their outdoor adventures. Hoseok was in it all, grabbing cloaks and panicking as people ran around on the slick floors. It was over all a rather chaotic affair.

Yoongi and Namjoon watched from the hall, amusement dancing in the prince’s gaze, and bemused concern in the shifter’s.

“Should we... help?” Namjoon asked aside to his companion. Yoongi snorted.

“We probably should.” he replied, and made absolutely no move to go forward and do so. The shifter looked between him and the others for a moment, conflicted, before deciding adding another body to the mess would only make things worse.

The situation improved when Jin appeared, practically plucking Jimin from the mess and dragging him away, Taehyung following after them excitedly when the crafter mentioned he might be able to help too. Finally, some peace was restored with only Jungkook left in his sodden clothes, something Hoseok quickly remedied.

Yoongi turned to the shifter as the brownie fussed over the flustered boy, and quirked his brow.

“It’s getting late, would you like to help me make food?” he asked. Namjoon paused, gazing at him with a faint frown.

“I’m... not sure how much help I’d be.” He responded, slightly hesitant. The prince dismissed the words with a flick of his wrist, idly grabbing the shifter’s hand and starting off towards the kitchen’s.

“Plenty is what. Come on, I’m sure I can find something for you to do.”

‘Something’ turned out to be Namjoon having his very first experience in preparing food, and doing a rather shoddy job of it. From stirring the pot to cutting vegetables, multiple hazards arose. Strangely though, he didn’t feel bad about any of them for long, as Yoongi just took each thing in stride, and even laughed when the shifter managed to get several spice leaves in his hair.

They ate with the others not long after, and Jin excitedly updated Namjoon on his progress, saying he’d be able to hand Jimjn the pieces he needed to engrave and smooth the next day, and get down to the main mechanism himself. Taehyung proudly announced he had helped with the molding of the wood with his forest magic, which had Jimin cooing happily.

Hoseok actually joined them at the table for once, even though he had no need for food, sitting beside Jungkook. The brownie did that a lot these past days, as if to reassure himself that the boy was real, often brushing light touches over his shoulder or hands. Hoseok didn’t seem to notice that they sent the poor lad blushing pink every time.

Before they all retired, Seokjin pulled him aside to give him an estimate on how long his creation would take. Apparently Taehyung’s inclusion would speed things up immensely, and the shifter was given three days. He tried to thank Jin again, but the man waved it away, insisting he save any more for the other two involved, or till he actually got to test the competed product.

Despite his nap that afternoon, Namjoon fell asleep quickly enough. It was easy to forget his body was still recovering, though the partially missing limb tended to remind. He sank into slumber to the sound of Yoongi’s deep breathing, anticipation and hope fluttering through his mind.

-

Three days passed both painstakingly and in a blur all at once. Seokjin, Taehyung and Jimin were constantly holed away in the workroom, and often they had to have meals brought to them. Namjoon felt increasingly restless and not just a little bit useless, and found himself looking for ways to help in any way he could.

This usually resulted in him assisting Yoongi in the kitchen despite his mess ups, exploring the castle with Jungkook when the boy wasn’t with Hoseok, and carrying materials and things back and forth for the crafter, fairy and druid. The prince voiced caution against him overworking himself but seemed to understand his need to be productive as he waited, quietly supportive in small ways.

As it turned out, when Seokjin and finally summoned Namjoon to the workroom, he was actually surprised. He followed the bouncing Tae down the halls, suddenly nervous, and entered the workshop cautiously. Jimin and Jin turned, both beaming fit to blind a person, and the druid entered behind the shifter, ushering him to a seat.

“It might need some tweaks to get comfortable, but it’s done!” Jimin announced, bouncing on his seat. Seokjin nodded, looking tired but exceedingly pleased with himself, and looked down, an object draped in cloth sitting in his lap. Carefully, as if unswaddling a babe, he pulled the fabric back.

Resting in his lap was... well it was an arm. It resembled a well carved puppet’s limb with every digit and bend in fine detail, but life sized and encased in wood. Runes and symbols Namjoon didn’t recognize ringed every joint and made strange patterns over its surface, and leather straps hung ready from the open end. The part where the thing would connect with his own arm was a little wider to fit over it, smooth and with a view into the shockingly intricate inner workings of the creation, all gears and thin pieces of metal glinting through the cracks.

The shifter sat in stunned silence, staring at it, then up at Jin in awe. The crafter’s smile looked knowing, and he gestured with his chin for the other to come closer.

“Well, don’t just gawk at it, let’s try it out.” he murmured.

The shifter nodded, still mute, and pulled his seat closer before tugging up his sleeve. Taehyung came over to the left side and Seokjin breathed deep, slowly lifting the thing up so the druid to secure it.

The end fit neatly over Namjoon’s lower arm, even over the bandages, more a cautionary measure than anything else by now. The shifter found himself holding his breath as Tae went to work on the buckles. Once that was done, Jimin reached over and tapped the wooden surface of the prosthetic with his index finger, muttering under his breath, and the runes lit up in pale blue light for a moment.

Along with the light, a jolt went up Namjoon’s shoulder and through his body, leaving his head feeling dizzy for a moment. Sensations of cold and warm rippled over his skin, and he sucked in a breath where he already had air in his lungs, stuttering an exhale as the sensations died away slowly.

Seokjin let go of the prosthetic, and the fairy and druid stepped back, watching carefully. It took a moment, a long moment for a mind just growing accustomed to not having use of a left arm to realize there was something there now. Namjoon slowly lowered it, the new- but also old weight a new sensation all its own.

Then the wooden fingers twitched, and his eyes widened. He willed it again, and the artificial digits curled inward, then flexed. He heard a few relieved breaths around him, and watched the hand clench into a fist in time with his other as a tide of emotion swept over him. He looked up at the three before him, and felt his eyes burning faintly.

“Thank you.” he managed, voice coming out hoarser than he expected. “Thank you so much.“

Jimin and Taehyung’s hands found each other and they looked almost as emotional. They had seen him after the incident itself after all, had to carry his arse back and everything. Seokjin nodded once, the first to speak after him.

“Aye. You’re welcome, Namjoon. Um...” he paused, cleared his throat, apparently the mood of the room getting to the crafter. “Test it out ya know? Pick some stuff up, check the straps regularly, and let us know if anything is uncomfortable or not working right. It should have the same level of function as your regular arm, and shouldn’t come off unless you undo the seal- the spelled strap here.”

Jin pointed, and the shifter nodded, the lump still in his throat. The fairy and the druid suddenly moved in unison, hugging him from either side in a sort of sandwich, and a chuckle rose in his chest as he got squeezed between them.

“I’m so glad it works!” Jimin trilled, releasing his grip and smiling wide again. Then his brows shot up and he started waving his hands. “Oh! Oh you gotta go show Yoongi! Hoseok has seen it already, Jungkook too, so Yoongi’s the only-“ he seemed to cut himself off, giggling and urging the shifter to his feet.

Namjoon blinked, the fingers of the prosthetic flexing again by his absent will. He couldn’t feel them, per say, not like his other limbs, but he was aware of it, knew where it and all it’s pieces were. He stared at it again, raising the limb and hearing the faintest of whirring sounds as it bent at the elbow, suddenly overcome with the conflicting desire to go to Yoongi.

“Go ahead, we’ll still be here if anything happens.” Seokjin encouraged, grinning as he sat back in his chair. Namjoon needed little further prompting, standing as his wide sleeve fell over the new arm, and stepping a bit jerkily for the door.

“Remind him to send food to us!” The crafter called after him, and Namjoon threw a smile over his shoulder, before he was out the door and breaking into a near jog down the halls. His whole body felt light as a feather despite having added weight, and he found what, or rather whom he sought in no time.

Yoongi was coming out of the piano room, and his gaze rose as Namjoon approached. Something must have shown on his face, because the prince’s eyes flicked down to his left arm, and the new prosthetic.

Yoongi’s eyes shone, rising back to the shifter’s, and his pace sped up as he came to meet Namjoon. The shifter didn’t plan it, but as soon as the prince was close, he reached out with /both/ arms and pulled him close. The other didn’t question it, just returned his embrace fiercely. They stood, almost completely still, and a shaky laugh bubbled out of Namjoon’s chest.

Suddenly Yoongi pulled back, tapping his upper arm.

“May I see?” he asked, voice hushed, looking up into Namjoon’s face. The shifter grinned, nodding and letting go with his left arm, raising it between them. The prince lifted his sleeve back, and let out a breath at the masterfully crafted replacement limb. One of his hands rose and brushed almost delicately over the wood surface, the runes under his finger tips lighting up in response to the touch. Happiness radiated from his features, happiness for Namjoon, and he looked up once more.

Yoongi’s face lifted in a smile that showed his gums, gaze bright, and the shifter felt his heart thud in his chest. Unfettered joy filled him, and he didn’t even think about it as he leaned forward, instinct taking over to guide him where his emotions pushed. His wooden hand came up to carefully cup the prince’s face, and Namjoon’s head came down.

For a breath, a heartbeat, his lips brushed Yoongi’s... Sparks raced from the contact all the way to his toes, his right arm tightening around the other’s waist, all together an endless second and a momentary millennia, stretching on and gone at once.

Then realization came flooding over him and he jerked back, eyes blowing wide and the air freezing in his lungs. The prince had stilled, staring, his mouth faintly parted in surprise. A wave of nervous dismay washed over Namjoon and he began to let go in a rush, backing away.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, I-“ he stuttered, unsure of what he was trying to say, so unsure of everything. He found himself scared, scared of the prince’s reaction and rejection. A little scared of what he’d comprehended in that moment, about himself and how he felt towards the other... The shifter felt the arms around him slowly let go and dread plopped heavy into the pit of his stomach. He cast his gaze to the ground in anticipation of the backlash... but it never came.

Instead, he felt gentle hands on either side of his head, and halted, staring down at the man before him. Yoongi’s face had relaxed, and he met Namjoon’s eyes steadily.

“You should be.” he murmured, and an odd little smirk lifted one side of his lips. “Your breath stinks.”

Then the prince tugged, pulling the shifter down pushing up to meet him, pressing a firmer kiss on Namjoon’s mouth in return, quite effectively silencing all the words of further apology that has risen in one fell swoop.

Namjoon froze, mind going blank.

At least, until Yoongi’s lips moved against his, drawing back a hair as if asking a silent question, breath coming in little puffs. And that’s when he understood. The prince was just as nervous as him, just as cautious, just as unsure... But he was hopeful. Hopeful of Namjoon’s response.

The shifter’s knees went abruptly unsteady and he pressed forward, eyes closing as he reclaimed the kiss, his arms looping back around the prince, pulling the other flush to him.

Warmth raced through his veins from the contact, and Yoongi relaxed, almost melting against him. Pleasure tingled through Namjoon at the reciprocation, at the feelings blooming in his chest in answer. He kissed a little uncertainly, inexperienced, but hungry for something he hadn’t realized he’d wanted so badly till that moment. And by the gods, his prince responded in kind.

Chapter Text

“Well, that is one way to test the new arm, I suppose.”

Hoseok’s voice was a jarringly sudden noise, breaking the bubble of the trance-like atmosphere that had descended over Namjoon and Yoongi. The royal and the shifter jerked apart, swiveling to find the brownie watching them with an amused expression, arms crossed. Namjoon felt his neck burning, sure he was pink, unsure why he was so flustered.

“Or perhaps I should say finally.” Hoseok pondered, looking like it was a serious question to him. The shifter wanted to hide his face in his hands, and he saw the prince’s ears turn rosy out of the corner of his eye. Yoongi ran a hand through his dark hair, mussing it, and throwing the household fae a baleful glare. Hoseok grinned way too mischievously for Namjoon’s mental stability right now, the shifter still extremely off balance from everything that had happened over the last... hour? Had it really been so short a time in which he’d gained so much? Gods above...

“What do you need Hoseok?” the prince muttered, frown deepening at the blond spirit’s attitude. He looked frustrated rather than genuinely mad. Namjoon still had his hands over his face, having given into his urge to partially hide.

“Jin just wanted to let you know that they, meaning he, Tae and Jimin have been, and I quote, “laboring for hours and need some godsdamned food before they die please.” I’m just the messenger, no need to glare like that!” The brownie replied, as apparently Yoongi glared at him. The shifter couldn’t be sure, not with his palms over his eyes. He heard a sigh, then a murmured “Aye, alright. I’ll get on it...”

It was followed by another happy chuckle from Hoseok, then silence. Quiet footsteps approached Namjoon a moment later, and he felt fingers wrap around his wrists, coaxing his hands away. He allowed it, looking into the prince’s eyes and they had softened.

“I guess we should go then... Come, you’ll be able to test the arm’s dexterity while cooking.” he murmured, humor lacing his deep tone.

The shifter blinked, almost taken aback. Yoongi was acting so... casual? Casual, while Namjoon’s breathing was only now returning to normal-

Just as the thought flitted through his head the prince, who still hadn’t released his hands, bent and pressed a brief kiss to the knuckles of the shifter’s right hand, then the left. The runes over the prosthetic flared again right along with Namjoon’s pulse, and he made a very strange noise in the back of his throat.

Yoongi’s gaze rose to him and the prince smirked, then left one of his hands entwined with Namjoon’s as he turned and started down the hall, half towing the flustered shifter after him.

They didn’t really speak about what had happened on their walk to the kitchen, nor during the meal preparation, nor after. This was at least in part due to them getting wrapped up testing the new arm, making sure it had full movement and dexterity.

It was a bit clumsy at first, without a doubt, Namjoon’s mind still adjusting to the new attachment. He started small, with stirring and mixing before going on to chopping, wary of handling sharp objects with the new limb. With sufficient encouragement though, he did, and found the arm worked remarkably well. As such, cooking went without more than the usual complications, and they had it done in short order.

It took a mite longer to deliver to the workers after however, as Yoongi had put everything together, only to turn and tug Namjoon down into a quick kiss. A quick kiss that turned into a few, rather longer kisses. Needless to say the shifter was giddy again when they carried the trays to Jin and the others.

The crafter fell on Namjoon at the same time he did the food, asking questions about the function thus far between bites and relaying some things and tips he’d forgotten. These included such things as taking the arm off when he slept or bathed, rather for comfort, and a reminder to report any discomfort or inconvenience to them immediately.

Namjoon nodded along and smiled, thanking the trio once again. The prince came up behind him, stating similar sentiments of gratitude. It made the shifter feel all floaty inside, and he had none to discretely reached back and taken Yoongi’s hand. He missed Taehyung and Jimin eyeing them and elbowing each other, at least until Jin sent the two a weird look and they only started giggling to each other.

The rest of the day was mostly Namjoon traveling around the castle, experimenting with activities and tasks with the new arm. Yoongi accompanied him for some, but left him alone for others despite an obvious reluctance to do so, understanding perhaps the need for space to take everything in.

It was a lot. In all honesty, the shifter was still reeling from the arm, as well as the new development with Yoongi until that night when he finally trudged tiredly into his- or rather the prince’s room. Yoongi was already there, half tucked under the blankets with a book in hand. He looked up as the shifter entered, and a soft little smile lifted his mouth. It was ridiculous, but that smile seemed to wash away Namjoon’s mental weariness.

Hardly thinking about it, he crossed the steps to the bed, propping both hands against the mattress for support as he leaned forward and pecked Yoongi on the lips. The prince blinked at him, then half grinned and returned with a light kiss of his own and a low chuckle.

“Busy day, huh?” he murmured, the light of the candle lit beside the bed casting gentle shadows over the plains of his elegant features. The shifter only hummed in response, not moving away, as he merely took the opportunity to examine the prince’s eyes. Yoongi on the other hand let out a sigh, setting his book in his lap as he reached up to the buckle of Namjoon’s wooden arm.

“Come on, time for sleep.” He stated, waiting till the shifter took his weight off the arm before looking down to unfasten the spelled strap. Once the buckle was fully undone, the runes dimmed and winked out, and the artificial limb went limp. Namjoon looked down, intrigued as it slid away from his severed bicep, and the prince carefully swung his legs off the bed, slipping around the shifter to place it on a trunk shoved against one side by the bed.

Namjoon turned in place, and once Yoongi was free of his task, he reached out. It took one motion to loop an arm around the prince’s waist and tug him back as the shifter tipped onto the bed, both falling on their sides into the mattress with a small ‘whump’ of impact. Yoongi didn’t fight him, another chuckle vibrating through him against the shifter’s chest.

“Goodnight.” Namjoon near whispered, already feeling his eyes closing. He felt a breath of exasperation and heard as the prince muttered something about being on top of the blankets, but then a quiet “Sleep well, Namjoon.” And just like that, he complied, mouth curving into a smile as he turned his nestled his chin into the top of Yoongi’s soft hair.

-

He didn’t know how he managed it, but when he woke Namjoon discovered Yoongi had maneuvered them both to be properly aligned on the mattress, and the covers had been pulled over them. It was warm, and even more pleasant as he registered the hand moving over his hair. It made him almost smile before he even opened his eyes, and sure enough found the prince running his fingers through his hair, a thoughtful near frown on his features.

“Is it that bad?” the shifter asked, voice husky from sleep. Yoongi twitched, looking down to see his eyes open and then realizing, and shaking his head, letting out what sounded like an amused snort as his expression relaxed.

“Mm? Oh, no. No skin changer, I was just thinking it was getting a little long... would you like me to cut it?” he asked, seeming a little zoned out as his gaze lifted back to where his fingers trailed through the shifter’s silver locks. Namjoon’s brows rose, and he thought about it. He supposed it had gotten sort of long... some pieces of hair were almost to his shoulders, but he’d never had much time to think about it recently, and grooming hadn’t been big on his schedule ever in his life.

“I suppose.” He replied, realizing he was supposed to answer, as it had been a genuine seeming offer. It was worth it to see the prince’s eyes light up a bit, and he nodded, ruffling Namjoon’s bangs till the shifter squinted balefully at the other and snorted in indignation.

“Later then. I’m sure Jin has some things planned for you today.” Yoongi murmured. And, as was a rather frequent occurrence, he was right.

Namjoon didn’t have much time to himself that day, whisked into several experiments and activities by the others, from Seokjin’s pokes at his arm to Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin dragging him outside for a snowball fight. He didn’t return inside till the sun had begun its descent behind the horizon, quickly scooting away to the baths to warm himself. While drying off, Hoseok had appeared, startling him badly but helping him put the prosthetic back on after apologizing.

“Yoongi asked me to send you over when he heard you were in here. Said something about wet hair being good for something.” The brownie hummed, giving the shifter a questioning quirk of the brows and a barely restrained grin. Namjoon pursed his mouth, then shrugged, rolling his left shoulder as the weight of the wooden limb settled at his side, runes glowing to life.

“Mm, he wanted to cut my hair.” he muttered, already distracted as he gathered his things to head out. He heard a chuckle, tossing a look and arched brow over his shoulder, but Hoseok just shook his head, hand flapping.

“Nothing~ I just wish I could find something like what you guys have one day.” The shifter felt his face heat at the words, but the brownie had waved and swept out before he could respond in any fashion. It took him a moment to compose himself, exiting the baths to head to the ground floors and making his way towards the prince’s room.

He wouldn’t say he was excited for this, hair cuts never having been anything of particular interest to him, positively or negatively. But he certainly wouldn’t mind the time spent with Yoongi. He hadn’t seen him almost all day... his steps quickened.

When Namjoon entered the room, he found the prince had a stool placed in the middle of the floor, a box placed to one side, and Yoongi himself sorting through it. He looked up at the sound of the door, and his eyes warmed at the sight of the shifter.

“There you are. I was worried you’d been kidnapped again.” the prince commented. Namjoon felt his mouth turn up despite himself as he stepped inside and closed the door.

“If I recall, the only person who had ever kidnapped me is you, your highness.” he said, faintly teasing. Yoongi made a face that amounted to him scrunching his nose, gesturing to the seat as he rolled his shoulders as if trying to shed something.

“That feels weird coming from you.” He commented in return. The shifter felt a chuckle work it’s way up his throat as he obligingly came to sit on the indicated stool facing towards the room’s window. He heard clinking behind him and then Yoongi came into his field of vision, a small barber’s knife and comb in his hands.

The prince glanced at him, then eyed his attire and his gaze rose deliberately to meet Namjoon’s.

“Top off.” he instructed, and the shifter blinked, not sure he’d heard right. Yoongi’s mouth quirked and he motioned with his chin.

“Robes off. Trust me, you don’t want all the hair getting caught under your collar. You’ll never be able to wear those things again without them itching.” he elaborated. Namjoon nodded understanding, still feeling his neck grow warm despite the logical reasoning as he began to shrug out of his upper clothing.

“Speaking from experience?” he asked, partly to distract himself. The prince hummed in solemn confirmation, waiting till the shifter had accomplished his task, now in just his breaches and soft indoor shoes. The room was warm, quite comfortably so in fact, but the Namjoon still felt goose flesh ripple over his skin when Yoongi circled around him to stand at his back, the fingers of the prince’s free hand brushing through the hair at the nape of the shifter’s neck.

The other stayed like that for a moment, then he ruffled Namjoon’s hair and gave his shoulder a light tap.

“Relax, I know how to use these. I won’t cut you by accident.” he said. The shifter nodded silently, swallowing as he forced his muscles to ease. Yoongi made a noise of approval, and he finally began to cut Namjoon’s unruly locks.

It was... much different from the times the shifter had gone to the tiny barber shop back in the city of his once sovereign ruler. He would even and willingly call it soothing. The prince’s hands were gentle and careful as he brushed out the shifter’s hair and piece by piece trimmed it back. Strands of silver drifted to the floor with each pass of Yoongi’s small knife. Every once in a while he brushed the excess off the other’s shoulders or back, touch featherlight. Eventually, Namjoon found his eyes closing as he simply enjoyed the feeling. His shoulders eased, and he smiled faintly as he heard the prince begun to hum something under his breath.

The low tune was almost the only sound in the room, and though he didn’t recognize it, the song felt somehow familiar...

Namjoon didn’t know for how long he sat there, thoughts almost at a standstill, hands folded in his lap and his eyes closed as Yoongi worked, until he felt a presence before him. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his lids lifted and he gazed into the prince’s face. Yoongi was still focused on his hair,
Brushing a few stray bangs back with his lip caught between his teeth, contemplating his work.

The prince had laid his tools aside and dusted at the shifter’s shoulders, shorn locks fall to the stone as he arranged the last few pieces and paused, running his gaze over the results. Namjoon watched him, intrigued. His own focus dropped absently from Yoongi’s eyes to his lips, and he felt a familiar tug of impulse.

The prince’s mouth twitched and turned up at the corners. He must have noticed the direction of the shifter’s gaze, as he leaned forward and pressed a quick peck to his mouth. Namjoon blink and shook himself out of his half daze, staring up as Yoongi straightened and dusted at his hands.

“What was that for?” he asked. The prince gave him a curious look and shrugged.

“I wanted to.”

The shifter was silent for a long moment, and unbidden, his mind drifted back to something Hoseok had said. “I wish I had something like what you two have”. He didn’t understand it... His thoughts reached his tongue before he could ponder it too long.

“Yoongi... what are we?”

The prince paused in the middle of tidying up the cutting supplies, and his dark head tilted.

“I mean- to each other.” Namjoon tried to clarify, brows coming together, unsure if the other would take his meaning. Yoongi watched him for a moment, then, slowly, came to stand before him. Close. He leaned forward.

“Well, I love you. Do you love me?” He murmured, face inches from the shifter’s.

Namjoon’s mind short circuited, and he stared at the prince in disbelief. All the serene calm left his body and abruptly his heart was in his ears.

Had he heard right? Surely not. No one had ever- no one would ever-

It seemed impossible, like a strange vivid dream that he was surely to wake from at any second.

But he didn’t, and the prince continued to stare into his eyes steadily, waiting for his reply. Patient and calm.

He... loved him? Loved Namjoon? Loved...

Love.

Oh.

So that was it’s name.

The name of the feeling that had begun to grow in his chest what seemed like ages ago. Had grown and swelled and overwhelmed him when he didn’t even realize.

A suspicious heat pricked behind the shifter’s eyes as he met Yoongi’s gaze, and nodded once, throat tight as he struggled to stay centered.

The prince gave a smile, small and bright.

“Then I suppose that makes us ‘lovers’, doesn’t it?” he hummed.

Namjoon felt a laugh, somewhere between joy and disbelief bubble up through his chest and push past the block in his throat, coming out in a shaky exhale. Without really thinking about it, he reached forward and took Yoongi’s hands, tugging the other closer.

The prince came easily, and bent when Namjoon craned up to capture his lips with his own, a fresh wave of warmth bursting through his chest at the contact. He didn’t want it to end. So he kept tugging, and before he knew it, Yoongi was sitting on his lap, warm hands resting on his bare shoulders as the shifter’s arms found his waist and squeezed him closer. One drifted upwards, right hand tangling in the prince’s hair.

The kiss took on a different quality than all their previous as they pushed nearer, deepening, heads tilting to slot their mouths together. The warmth the shifter felt intensified, become a trickle of heat that spread through him, urging forward. Wanting to be still closer, still more.

He was a little scared of it. Scared of what he wanted... scared he was moving too fast, that he might frighten Yoongi.

The fear dampened the heat for a moment, and he hesitated, drawing back a fraction till he could see the prince’s face, breathing quick and short. What he saw stole whatever air was left in his lungs.

Yoongi was flushed, his hair mussed, his eyes dark and intent. The prince noted his hesitation and watched him, chest rising and falling almost in time with the other’s. Namjoon swallowed hard.

“Is this... okay?” he breathed, and the prince’s head tilted.

Something sparked behind Yoongi’s gaze. It looked like mischief, mixed with affectionate frustration. His distracting mouth lifted in a smirk, and he leaned in till his lips brushed the shifter’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“More than okay... my love.” he hummed, and Namjoon barely had time to register the way the phrase made his head spin before the prince brushed a kiss to his neck, and at the same time pressed himself forward and down in the shifter’s lap an almost languid roll.

Namjoon let out a low groan and buried his face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck, arms tightening around the smaller’s waist. It was suddenly pretty obvious he’d had nothing to worry about in terms of the prince feeling the same way he did, and the rush of heat returned and redoubled.

He pressed his nose into the hot skin of Yoongi’s throat and breathed deep, met with the familiar, comforting scent of pine wood and sweet spice, this time tinged with sweat and something heady, enticing. He shifted slightly and kissed the column of the prince’s neck, slowly moving up to the corner of his jaw.

He felt Yoongi wriggle slightly in his arms, the man’s strong hands tightening on his shoulders, pulse jumping under the shifter’s touch as he turned his head to give him more access. The reaction sparked a thrill in Namjoon’s chest and he followed the responses and his instincts, moving down before lingering at the base of the prince’s throat, nosing his collar aside. He opened his mouth and lightly bit, just hard enough to leave faint indents of his canines, before gently kissing the same spot.

The quiet growl he heard in his ear was reward enough as Yoongi’s head fell to rest on his own arm, now slung around Namjoon’s neck. The shifter felt himself smile in the midst of his ministrations, though it faltered when the prince deliberately rolled his hips once more, legs lifting and tightening around Namjoon’s own waist.

Yoongi straightened his back with the same motion, hands sliding into the shifter’s freshly cut hair as he pulled him up to capture the hitched breath his teasing caused, swallowing it as he claimed Namjoon’s lips again. He deepened the kiss immediately, giving the shifter no time to recover and only pausing when they were both panting and dizzy.

Yoongi rested his forehead against Namjoon’s for a moment and he met his eyes. His thighs squeezed the shifter and he glanced sideways.

“...bed.” He muttered between puffs, and Namjoon couldn’t help the little grin that split his face despite himself. He dipped forward to peck the prince’s prettily reddened lips, simultaneously sliding his hands down Yoongi’s sides to grab- er, support his ass. He felt muscles twitch and flex in reaction to the touch, and once he was positioned he stood, still holding him up. The prince blinked and let out a surprised noise, arms tightening on reflex to steady himself.

“As you wish, my prince.” the shifter murmured, turning to walk towards the mattress. Yoongi’s mouth curled in strangely feline satisfaction and he cupped the back of Namjoon’s neck, tilting his head and giving him a maddeningly slow kiss. It made the shifter’s knees go weak just as he reached the bed, and he tipped forward with a lot less grace than he would have liked, landing with his hands on either side of the prince’s head and a knee braced just between the other’s legs.

“You know... I rather like the sound of that...” Yoongi breathed, eyes dancing as he looked up at Namjoon. They were quiet for a moment, before they both burst into shaky chuckles. It calmed only when the prince shook his head, smiled and rose to his elbows to stop the shifter’s mouth with another kiss.

It slowly mounted in intensity as Yoongi reached up to wrap his arms around the other, and Namjoon let himself fall with him as his prince pulled him down. He dropped to his elbows, and his right hand moved from supporting him to Yoongi’s waist.

He ran gentle fingers down his prince’s side, feeling the muscles there tense again. So he was sensitive there... His fingers found the other’s sash and tugged clumsily at the tie, and once it was undone he felt Yoongi arch to let him slide it away, tossed to land somewhere off to the side.

He brushed the crossover style tunic flaps aside, and the pads of his fingers met warm skin. His prince sucked in a breath at the contact, smiling as he kissed Namjoon long a slow. Encouraged, the shifter let his hand slip around to Yoongi’s back, exploring and pulling him closer in the same movement.

The skin beneath his hand was not all smooth, and he met ridges and rough spots that caused him to slow. Namjoon lids flickered open, and he pulled back just enough to meet his prince’s eyes, then let his gaze wander down, remembering. Sure enough, the scars from before still marked Yoongi’s flesh, pale and stark against his flushed chest and stomach where they could be seen in the flickering firelight.

“I’m sorry... they aren’t very attractive, are they.” Yoongi murmured, a solemnity underlying his light tone. When the shifter raised his eyes back to the other’s they held a silent apology, and his prince raised a light hand to his jaw, gaze searching.

Namjoon felt a twist in his gut as he realized his prince was stealing himself for disgust, waiting for him to pull away. He shook his head, raising his hand to cup Yoongi’s and turning to press his lips into the other’s palm. Then he lowered himself slightly and kissed the man’s lips, his neck, his collarbone, then a long white mark that ran from just under it diagonally over his heart, lingering, almost reverent.

His hand slipped down to trace delicate touches over a jagged ridge over his prince’s soft stomach, while he kissed another, on the side of Yoongi’s neck, unconsciously nuzzling at it in the same breath. He felt a full body shudder overtake his prince, and when he looked up again, his eyes looked faintly wet and unbearably open. Deep gratitude and love radiated from that gaze, and Namjoon couldn’t think how he could possibly show Yoongi just how much he reciprocated those exact emotions.

His prince reached up and took his face between his palms, pulling him into a wet kiss that seemed to consist of them fighting to convey themselves to the other as best they could in this tactile way.

At some point, Yoongi managed to maneuver them fully onto the bed. The remainder of their clothing was lost, and the night deepened as they kissed and touched, explored and discovered, getting lost in time and each other till they lay contentedly face to face, hands intertwined as they murmured the feelings they had kept till the moon rose, and sleep took them to rest.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure sure?” Jimin asked again, eyes looking faintly damp as Jin squeezed his hand. Taehyung looked like he would be in the same state if he tried to talk, leaning against the fairy’s other shoulder while Jin just grinned at the two of them.

“Come on guys, it’s not like they’ll be gone forever.” He cooed.

Yoongi and Namjoon glanced at each other knowingly, and the ex-royal smiled as he shouldered his travel pack, the warm wind coming off the sea tousling his hair.

The five of them stood on a wide pier just off a docked and busy ship that looked ready to set sail. It was early yet, the sky still the softest pale blue of dawn. They didn’t have much time left before their ride left.

Namjoon looked back to the three who had come to see them off, and nodded.

“We’re sure.” he stated.

The shifter and his prince had been spending... quite a bit of time together after their return, and in conversation it came up that both wanted to travel. With Yoongi having been a sheltered prince most of his life, then hiding from his father and Namjoon having no freedom of his own by the same source, they’d decided that since they were ‘dead’, they had the chance to finally see the world. As winter had passed and travel routes opened with the coming of gentler seasons, it seemed the best time.

Nevertheless, Jimin has asked them the same question about 4 times on the trip here from the castle, and for the 6th time, Jimin bit his lip and pulled away from his companions to bear hug Namjoon with all the surprising strength of the fae.

Jin stepped forward to gently tug him off this time, making soothing noises as he held the smaller’s slim shoulders.

“Come on now, if you keep doing that Yoongi is gonna get jealous.” he chuckled, earning a dubious look from the aforementioned human. He just winked at him and pulled Jimin into a hug. Tae sidled up to them and embraced both, still unusually quiet.

“Seokjin is right, you know. We’ll come back.” Yoongi said, tone softening as he watched the knot of limbs. His hand slipped into Namjoon’s and the shifter squeezed, understanding. Neither was used to being worried about yet, but it was warming to the core to know there would be people awaiting their return.

“When.” Jimin sniffed, glaring at them from the tangle of arms he was currently part of. At Namjoon’s side, the prince hummed in thought.

“Possibly a year? Little longer if not.” He replied.

The fairy nodded, wiggling his way out of the group hug to place his fists in his hips and stared them both down the best he could with a wobbling lip.

“I’ll hold you too it, lover birds.” He grumbled, glancing behind them for a moment before swiping at his eyes. “Looks like the ship is ready. You’d best be going.”

Namjoon nodded, glancing at them before dipping into a low bow.

“Thank you all. For everything.” he said, starting to feel a dangerous lump in his own throat as he rose. There were warm and tearful smiles on the faces of their friends, and after a few more hurried goodbyes and pieces of advice about Namjoon’s arm from Jin, and Taehyung stepping forward to engulf them both in a hug of his own, they finally stepped aboard the ship and waved final farewells.

They didn’t stop waving till the dock was a smudge in the distance, and Namjoon lowered his aching arm and turned to Yoongi, an excited grin on his face. The sun was beginning to crest the horizon, flushing the sky with pink and yellow. The crew buzzed around them, not paying any heed and it felt like they were in their own bubble for a moment.

Yoongi was smiling back, looking just as hyper. His prince reached out and took his right hand, raising it to place a quick kiss on his knuckles and give his fingers a light squeeze.

“We’d best stow our things and get to work before the captain gets angry.” Namjoon murmured, feeling his ears warm despite himself. Yoongi sighed quietly and nodded, not actually letting go of the shifter’s hand as he turned towards the stairs to go bellow decks.

Namjoon smiled and followed after, feeling more happy than he felt he had a right to. He didn’t know what lay ahead of them, or what would happen in the coming years, but he felt that as long as he and his prince faced it together, all would be well.

-

The pair did return in the time they had promised, and over the coming years Yoongi and Namjoon set out on many journeys in every direction. They made a great many discoveries and brought back numerous items, to the point that Hoseok added a section to the library to house their collection of books, scrolls, odd items and trinkets. They learned much in that time, from foreign languages to bits of culture and of things they studied in the wild places and through the creatures that lived there. It was fair to say some things they recorded had not been seen before by any other in the realms, and more than one book they added to the library were one of a kind.

As for the others, well, they all seemed to stick around.

Seokjin took up permanent residence in the castle, and spent an awful lot of time with Jimin and Taehyung. The three got into no end of mischief and created some truly astonishing inventions, from revolutionary mechanisms to some fairly idiotic contraptions, and some that may or may not have exploded. When Jimin learned Seokjin liked interesting foods, he took to bringing back some fairy delicacies from his trips to visit his people, and Taehyung would bring back rare and fascinating ingredients from the depths of the Blackwood. It almost became a competition as some point. Jin, for his part, would build his companions small inventions that ranged from beautiful to confounding. The most memorable of which being a clock that popped out a little wooden hamster which emitted his signature high laugh at the change of the hour.

Jungkook also stayed, and spent a vast majority of his time in the libraries when he wasn’t getting caught up in the threesome’s shenanigans. He’d determined to resume the magical studies which he’d been forced to abandon so long ago, and made lightning fast progress with the help of Hoseok, who remembered much from always observing the magicians before.

It was clear to everyone but the brownie how much the young man enjoyed his presence. While his studies go well, Jungkook has some work to do in reminding Hoseok that he isn’t a child anymore. We’re rooting for him.

The castle became a warm and often boisterous place, and Yoongi and Namjoon, no matter how fantastical their adventures, are always happy to return home. Hoseok even opened a new wing to travelers of the Blackwood, for every once in a great while, a weary soul would stumble upon this strange palace and its eclectic occupants, in need of quick rest. Some of these travelers made it back to civilization, and tales of the hospitable yet mysterious abode joined the many other whispers about the Blackwood. They call it the Laughing Castle, not only for its amiable atmosphere, but also because they say that sometimes, if you listen closely, one can hear a strange high pitched laugh echoing through the halls even when no one is around...