Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The echo of water droplets hitting the stone floor was the only real sound he ever heard anymore. The only breaks from it were when a guard slid him food once a day, when they brought in a new prisoner who cried for a couple of days before giving up, or when a rat would scurry through the old straw he used as a bed.

His skin itched and was pebbled with tiny red dots - he was probably being eaten alive by some pests like fleas or mites. Most likely didn’t help that the last time he’d been able to bathe was when he’d woken up on the beach drenched in seawater. 

Even worse than the damp and filthiness of his prison was the hunger. He was so hungry. Not even his years of strict dieting had prepared him to live on gritty bread and watery...whatever that was. Some kind of grey porridge. 

He still didn’t even know why he was here or what they were planning on doing with him. His guards all spoke strange English that was heavily accented and filled with weird words. He was always better at understanding the language more than speaking it, but these guys were a pain in the ass.

All he knew was that one moment he was dozing off on his comfy bed as he watched a documentary on his phone, and the next moment some men in weird metal outfits were dragging his freezing body from the beach, throwing him in this stone cell where he’d been now for...he wasn’t sure. He’d stopped counting after the first week. Maybe a month? 

Surely if he was being held for ransom Bang PD or even his parents would have solved it quickly. He wasn’t one to brag... much… but he was certainly famous enough that the entire Seoul police force should be on the case if he got kidnapped. What other reason was there for someone to take him? 

Suddenly he heard the grating sound of the giant door that led to the cells being unlocked. He’s already had his grey porridge for the day so it seems strange to hear them coming by again. He didn’t hear any crying so they didn’t have a new prisoner with them. He doesn’t have the energy to crawl to his door and listen, though the desire is there for a moment. Instead, he simply waits. It’s what he does best these days, after all. 

His patience is rewarded when the heavy door to his stone cell is swung open, revealing several armed men surrounding another one dressed like he just walked off the set of a movie about knights and kings or some shit. He had the whole look down pat - all the way from his pointy shoes to the scroll and quill in his hands. 

“Name,” he grunts at Yoongi. 

He tried to respond, but his throat was dry and hoarse from disuse and dehydration. 

One of the guards strode into the cell and kicked him in the shin. “Answer before I make ye.” 

“Min...Yoongi,” he grunted harshly, his voice rough and weak even to his own ears. 

“What kind of name is that?” the guy with the quill grumbled. Yoongi had heard that sentence enough during his time in America to know what that meant too. He didn’t think it deserved a response here either. He decided to just tune out the rest of the conversation and wait for whatever was going to happen. 

“What was this prisoner’s crime?” 

The guard with the keys and fat belly answered with a grin. “Rebellion, Ser. Oh, an he also got a few hits on me lads, so how bout a bit o’ attacking royal officials or summat?” 

The man he’d called Ser glanced at the other in surprise. “Rebellion? That’s serious, Warden. Are you certain?” 

“Aye, Ser. He’s a foreigner an’ was on the beach. Washed up from one o’ those warships, aye?” 

“If that’s so, then I should take him with me today. The King will want to charge him directly if it’s to be capital punishment. Send a message ahead to his Majesty so he’s aware.” 

“Aye, Ser.” 

The fat man leaves and the guy with a quill waves another guard over. 

“Get him another set of clothing that is clean and free of holes. There’s nothing we can do about a bath right now, but we can at least lessen the stench so as not to offend their Majesties,” the man orders and leaves behind one guard to watch Yoongi while yet another hastens to follow his orders. 

Yoongi waits silently, hating the eyes of the guard just staring at him. He already felt like a filthy worm on his own - he didn’t need an audience. He’d only caught bits and pieces of the conversation, but they all had such heavy accents that it was difficult to really catch anything of use. He only knew that he was the topic of conversation. Maybe he was finally being released? 

Eventually, the other guard reappeared and threw clothes at him. His small flicker of hope that he was going home shone a little brighter as he looked at them. The same scratchy material, but clean and would probably even fit him a little better. They’d even thrown him a pair of shoes - shitty leather and were definitely too small but they were better than nothing. 

Yoongi hurriedly changes into the new clothing, suddenly uncaring of the guards eyes on him in his desperation to wear something that might give him a little more warmth. The beige shirt and pants were as scratchy as they looked and he suspected it was the same material people made bags or ropes out of - but it was the first time he’d worn something in ages that offered him some protection against the biting cold. 

He was even happy to tug on the “shoes” that were little more than a foot-shaped strip of leather held together with leather laces. There was no protection on the bottom, so if he stepped on a nail or lego he was fucked, but at least his feet were less freezing. 

The moment he was dressed, the guard grabbed his arm roughly and tugged him out of his cell. In the halls he noticed at least twenty other people shackled together single-file with chains. There were mostly men looking as messed up as he was, but he was horrified to notice two heavily pregnant women and a boy no older than five chained up right along with everyone else. What kind of fucking assholes did he get kidnapped by? 

The weird guy with the scroll met Yoongi and his guard by a door that was presumably the exit. 

“Off to the courthouse with them, Warden. I’ll be taking Mr...Yooki....here straight to his Majesty. I’ll be borrowing your guard here, if you don’t mind.” 

“As you wish, Master Marshal. You !” He bellows, his rancid breath making Yoongi want to vomit. “Fall in line with me guard here. No funny business or we’ll gut ye where ye stand. Not ‘hat you can understand what I’m sayin, eh? It’s like talking to a sheep.” The warden laughed cruelly, shoving Yoongi to stand behind his guard and the nerdy guy with the scroll. Yoongi barely contained a laugh when he noticed the man’s pants were so wide around his hips that he looked like he was waddling around in a diaper. 

He followed silently behind the pair of men, however, hoping that they were leading him to someone who would be taking him home. Once outside, the sun was so bright it burned his eyes. He squinted against it, trying to see his escort through the beams. He wished he had sunglasses. He wished he had proper shoes, he also silently complained as they walked down a completely unpaved road with enough rocks littering it that he stepped on one at least every couple of steps. 

There were people everywhere, he suddenly realized when his eyes adjusted themselves enough for him to see clearly again. He frowned, observing as hundreds of people walked around what appeared to be a busy street in a whole ass...city? Town? Whatever. The point was there were a shit-ton of people here and they weren’t even batting an eye as he was being led down the street in shackles and obviously kidnapped. 

Upon closer inspection, he also noticed that they were all wearing weird clothes like the diaper guy. Not a single woman he saw wore pants - instead they all wore dresses varying from ragged brown rags to red velvet accented with jewels. He swore he also saw a woman wearing an entire basket of fruit on top of a huge head of hair. 

The men weren’t much better. They also ranged from drab rags to rich silks and velvets of bright colors and strange patterns. Most of them had either hair as long as a woman or a cut that he would most likely describe as a bob. Strange curled shoes seemed to be favored by many. In fact, he thought the whole lot of them looked like they came straight off the set of a movie about knights and kings from England. But even if his kidnappers had stored him on some movie set, surely they would at least notice that he was a little more messed up than movie magic could replicate. 

They finally stopped walking in front of an actual carriage, with actual horses pulling it. He stared at the giant black horses curiously, an embarrassing high-pitched squeal escaping his lips when he was unceremoniously picked up and tossed into the carriage. His guard jumped up next to him and crowded him near the window. Diaper man settled himself on the seat across from him, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he stared at Yoongi. 

“I’m going to need my carriage cleaned. I’m not even certain the servants will be able to get his stench from the seats.” 

Yoongi was sure whatever he was saying was an insult, so he chose to ignore him and stare out of the window and the carriage rattled across the rough roads. 

The houses they passed were all a strange old-school style that he’d seen in tons of movies - the exteriors ranging from bare wood, to what looked a hell of a lot like grass, to bricks, even some that were rough stone patched together. Nearly all of the houses had roofs made of grass and there were rarely any glass windows to be seen beyond the slight glimpse he caught of a church. 

Horrified anew, he spotted the line of captives he’d seen earlier still shackled, but being led one by one to what looked a hell of a lot like a hangman’s noose. That in itself wasn’t too shocking if they were filming a medieval movie - what was freaking him out was how life-like the man that had just been dropped appeared as he struggled against the rope around his neck. 

Yoongi gulped and pulled his eyes away from the sight, heavily disturbed by it. Movie or no, he didn’t like watching that kind of shit. 

Suddenly, his eyes caught on the massive building they were nearing, his jaw dropping. It wasn’t just a building. This was a fucking legit castle, with a drawbridge and a moat, guards in armor waiting outside, a giant group of men battling with swords off in a corner. Did they hire a whole castle for their movie or build this? He looked at the exterior stone, thinking that it certainly looked weathered enough to be real ancient stone, but well-kept enough that it could be a national treasure or something. They must expect this movie to be a hit to put this much time and effort into it. 

The carriage stopped and he was once again roughly shoved out after the diaper man had been helped gently out by his...whatever he was. The kid that seemed to have appeared along with the carriage couldn’t be more than nine or ten, but he followed the diaper man around like an overly attentive puppy. 

His guard once again gestured for Yoongi to follow, so he did, his eyes constantly studying his surroundings as they grew more and more opulent. Well, beyond the flooring. Apparently, they were going for super authenticity because there was straw all over the floor instead of carpets or wood. He swore he even spotted a few chicken bones peeking out from the musty-smelling floor. 

The walls, however, were absolutely covered in portrait after portrait framed in gold, all of them featuring one ugly and/or fat rich white guy after another. Occasionally a dog. 

They finally stopped in front of a huge set of double doors, elaborately decorated with gold. Diaper guy puffed himself up and announced himself to the guards, who nodded and opened the doors wide. 

His guard moved behind him, pushing a little too roughly to get him to increase his pace. Hard to do when he had zero energy and his feet were killing him. 

The room they stepped into was even more lavishly decorated than the rest of the place. Crimson painted walls with golden accents. Huge tapestries and even more bloated white men decorating the walls. Golden steps that led to... oh shit . 

Yoongi’s eyes widen as he takes in the couple playing the King and Queen. The man wasn’t all that impressive, so they were obviously going more for historical accuracy than just stuffing another Brad Pitt look-alike into some tights. He was probably a few inches shorter than Yoongi, with a scraggly red beard shot with grey, big bushy eyebrows of the same color, and spotted hands showing his age. The guy was probably eighty or something. The Queen was no more than sixteen if she was even that, although honestly not that pretty. Kind of a big nose and long chin, and when she gasped her mouth opened to reveal several missing teeth. 

“This is the foreign rebel you sent word of, Marshal Smythe?” The King asked the diaper guy, his voice rattled with age. 

“Aye, your Majesty. He was no doubt washed up to shore from his warship. We have sent the navy out searching for more.” 

The king nods, eyeing Yoongi with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. “And you say he attacked our men?” 

“Aye. The warden says he attacked several soldiers. It is my suggestion that he receive capital punishment, my lord. Perhaps public execution to assure the people’s safety.” 

Another gasp sounded from the Queen’s left side, and Yoongi turned to eye the group of women standing next to her. They were a colorful bunch - all big dresses, long scraggly hair, and flashing jewels. Except for one. 

She was staring at him in a way he had been wondering if he’d ever see again. Awe, recognition, shock...she knew him. 

And more, she looked more like a movie Queen or Princess should be than the one she stood next to. She was the cleanest one in the room, it seemed, with hair that fell to her waist in silken waves. Her skin was free of marks and clean, the teeth that peeked from her shocked lips were white and straight. Even her clothing was in better taste than the rest being free of the ridiculous ruffles and bows - just a simple emerald and silver dress with long sleeves and her only adornment was some small emerald earrings. She looked like a Fairy Queen in a court full of crackheads, if he were being honest. 

He couldn’t hear what the King was discussing with another old man next to him, but whatever it was pulled her pretty eyes away from him to stare at the pair with a look that bordered on horror. 

Suddenly she dashes off the stage and runs to Yoongi, throwing herself prostrate on the ground in the kind of bow he’d only use in case a serious apology was necessary. 

“Oh, my King! I’ve been searching for you everywhere. At last, you have been found,” She exclaims loudly, peeking up at him with a desperate look in her eye. 

“Play along,” she whispers so lowly he nearly hadn’t heard. And what’s more, she’d said it in perfect Korean. 

“Lady Reader, what mean you by this?” 

The Queen had stood up from her throne, hand grasping her chest dramatically. 

The woman stands and twirls to meet the Queen’s eye, her eyes filling with tears. 

“Your majesty! This is King...Min. Of Joseon. He is the one I spoke of - my betrothed traveling from afar to collect me,” she turns back to Yoongi. 

“I will do my best to set you free, but I’m afraid the cost might not be to your liking. Um, for what it’s worth I’m sorry and at least it won’t count if we ever get to go back home?” She smiles weakly, making Yoongi narrow his eyes. 

“What do you mean? What’s going on and what’s going to happen? Are you working with my kidnappers? Look, I’ll give you all the money you want if you call the police for me or help me out of here.” 

“Oh, man. You don’t know anything about what’s going on. Okay, let me just try to get you out of here, and then I’ll catch you up. Jesus, of all people to get caught with me it’s Min Fucking Yoongi,” she sighs and rubs her forehead like she felt a headache coming on. “How did you arrive here?” 

“I don’t know. I was asleep in my bed and then I woke up being dragged out of the fucking sea by a bunch of stinking assholes.” 

She turns back to the royal couple and bows. “Apologies, Your Majesties. I needed to learn what had happened to my betrothed to land him in this state, and I’m afraid he does not know the King’s tongue. It seems he had indeed sailed out to collect me, but he met with a terrible storm and his men all perished protecting their king as well as they could. He managed to swim to shore and passed out, where he was collected by your men. Since he could not speak English, my Lord had no way of explaining his situation. Oh,” she squeaked nervously, wringing her hands. “I do hope this won’t lead to war. King Min’s forces are hundreds of thousands in number, his coffers overflowing. It would be all too easy to... oh dear .” 

Yoongi nearly wanted to laugh at the way she sneaked him a wink then went right back to wringing her hands and appearing on the brink of tears. The King was frowning and stroking his greying beard while the Queen had dropped right back into her throne like the woman’s words had hit her with as much force as a physical blow. 

“We should like to avoid such a possibility as we are still recovering from my predecessor’s campaigns,” the King sighed wearily. “Please inform your lord that we offer him our deepest apologies for the actions of our people and that as a token of our goodwill we will grant him the Dukedom of Lancaster along with its lands. It was supposed to be gifted to my Uncle John, however as we all know, he’s an ass. Take it for your use until you are able to secure voyage home.” 

The woman nods and was about to turn to Yoongi to translate when the King suddenly smiled and held up his hand. The Queen giggled and revealed that she had been whispering something else to the King. He nods and waves the woman forward. 

“Lady Reader. As your betrothed has at long last come to steal you from us, we part with you heavy-hearted. Your presence has been a blessing on our house and as such the Dukedom I give your lord is as much for you as for him. Along with your new title as Duchess of Lancaster, we will grant you the dowry that should have been yours all along, as it came to us to fund my father’s campaigns. We would also ask that you allow us the honor of letting our dear Queen host your wedding here, and our priest officiate. We’ll have you properly wedded before sup, I dare say.” 

“I would be most happy to accept your gracious offer, your majesty. I have been honored by the warm welcome of your house and as I am sure her majesty is much more knowledgeable of such matters, I leave my wedding in her hands.” 

The Queen squeals with happiness and claps loudly, proclaiming to one and all that she is most pleased with the events. 

“With that business done with,” the King rumbles, “You may take your lord to the blue room. It’s the finest we have to offer beyond our own. I will also be sending along our personal physician to look him over and perhaps a meal to tide him over until your wedding feast.” 

He nods and waves to indicate their dismissal and the woman quickly rushes over and loops her arm through Yoongi’s. 

“I am taking you to your new room to wash and relax. I’ll explain what I can there.” 

He nods and allows her to steer him as they fall in line behind yet another stuffy-looking white guy. He takes a second to pause by the warden and flips him off. The man pulls himself straight and clenches his fist, but says and does nothing. Coward. 

****

Yoongi and the woman are led down several different hallways until they reach a massive door that the man flings open wide and gestures for them to go ahead. Several maids had already beat them there and were already beginning preparations for a bath it seemed. One was setting the fire ablaze and several more were walking back and forth from another room with steaming pails of water to dump into a giant copper tub that was placed in front of the fireplace. 

An older-looking woman with a jumble of what seemed like hundreds of keys jingling at her hip strode up to the woman and slightly bowed. 

“Milady Reader, I have begun preparing Lord…Min’s?” She screwed up her face in question. 

The woman cleared her throat, sneaking a quick peek at Yoongi. “Actually, he is a King, Mistress. His proper title is His Majesty. To differentiate from our Sire, you may inform the staff he is to be referred to as ‘His Excellency.” 

The woman’s eyes widened in shock. “Of course, my lady. I meant no disrespect, Your Excellency.” 

Yoongi could barely follow the conversation beyond a few mentions of the word King, but the woman mimed bowing her head a little so he followed her instructions. 

“As I was saying, My lady, a bath is being prepared for his Excellency. I have heard that clothing is being sent for him from his Highnesses the prince’s wardrobe, as they are more alike in stature. Food will be sent up soon. Will there be anything else that you will need from me, my lady?” 

“Yes, if you please. His Excellency and I are to wed today. Preparations are being done by her Majesty the Queen,” The woman laughs lightly as the older woman scoffs. “Yes, I know Agnes. However, you know she’ll never let it go. Please insist that you be allowed to help so she doesn’t go too overboard.” 

“Of course, my lady. May I give you my warmest wishes upon your marriage? It has been an honor to serve one such as yourself during your time here and…oh my…you are going to be a Queen!” The usually unflappably woman exclaimed. “That is wonderful! You will surely do well as such.” 

“Thank you. It will be some time before we’ll be able to go back to our country, but being a Duchess will be good practice.” 

“Oh yes, I had heard his majesty was searching for someone he could give Lancaster to instead of his reprobate of an uncle. Surely he would have run such a fertile land into the ground.” 

“Based on what I’ve heard about the properties he’s already had a hand in, you may be right.” The woman sighs. “I still need to speak to his excellency about what’s going on, so if you wouldn’t mind clearing everyone out for a few moments.” 

“As you wish, my lady,” Agnes claps her hands and the maids drop anything they were holding and follow behind her as she leads them out of the room. Once the door is shut, the woman sighs wearily and turns to Yoongi. 

“Sit, at least. You must be exhausted,” she gestures towards a gaudy blue chair, and Yoongi slumps into it gratefully. 

“You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on now?” He drawls. 

She nods and sits on the edge of the bed facing him. “My name is Y/N. I can tell you what I know. I don’t exactly know how you of all people got here, of course. I’m still trying to piece together how I got here.”

“What? They kidnap you too?” 

“Okay, first things first, I see. You’re not kidnapped.” 

“Sure seems like it.” 

“Yeah, but…okay,” She pauses and sighs, scratching her chin. “Guess the only way to do this with you is to be blunt. You’re in the past. Somehow the both of us have been transported to the year 1399 in England. The people on the thrones you met are actual monarchs. King Henry and Queen Beatrice. From the history I remember, these were not the original ones. Something changed and I suspect it has something to do with us being here.” 

Yoongi keeps his face in neutral while he listens, having long since mastered the art of keeping a straight face while someone bullshits him. 

“Uh-huh. You’re really convincing, I’ll give you that,” he finally scoffed. “So what? Is this actually a cult of some sort? You guys want the monarchy back so you created some little commune?” 

She looks heavenward and cricks her neck. “I know that this is a lot to take in, but it’s all true. It took me a couple of weeks before I was sure I wasn’t dreaming anymore. A couple of months before I realized I probably wasn’t going home anytime soon - if ever.” 

Yoongi frowns. “How long have you been here, exactly?” 

She hums thoughtfully. “A little over a year now. Fourteen months, if we’re being specific.” 

“And you’ve been in this cushy ass castle the whole time?” 

Grimacing sympathetically, she shrugs. “Actually, I woke up in a wagon - that was being sent to the castle. Apparently, I took the place of some woman who is the King’s goddaughter. He and the woman’s father were best friends in their youth and I was being sent to become a lady-in-waiting to the new Queen.” 

“What does that mean? Lady waiting or whatever.” 

“Basically official companions for her. She’s actually his niece a couple of times removed or something and comes from Germany, so she didn’t have anyone. Official court ladies attending a Queen so they are not completely friendless is common, I guess. She treats me like a favorite pet.” 

“Wait…niece. Like…family?” 

“Oh yeah. Inbreeding is a big thing during this day and age.” 

“Gross.” 

“Yup.” 

Silence falls for a few moments before Yoongi finally clears his throat, staring at the marks on his wrists left from his shackles. 

“So, say I believed you and I’m really…in the past or some shit. What happens now?” 

She huffs and grins sheepishly. “That’s why I was apologizing earlier. You see, in this place marriage and alliances are everything. The King would have been well within his rights to marry me off to whatever gross old man he wanted to so I developed a cover story. Said that my father saved the life of some foreign nobleman and betrothed me to him from the cradle. And in case I managed to vanish unexpectantly, I mentioned that my betrothed would be coming to claim me any day now.” 

“Good thinking,” he rumbles. 

She shrugs, “Yeah, except for the fact that he declared he would marry me to whoever he deemed fit if I was not claimed by the time this year was out. So, good timing.” 

“Did he have anyone in mind?” 

“Not really, but there were rumors of…someone,” she answers, suddenly curiously shy and a light blush on her cheeks. 

Huh. 

“Anyway,” she says, rubbing her hands on her dress. “As far as the king is concerned, you are my foreign betrothed, come to fetch me. He can’t very well be treating you like an actual king while you’re here since he is the authority, but he’s gifted you a Dukedom as an apology for the way you were treated so that you maintain some status in his land. You will still be treated like a king, but will only have the authority of a Duke in this land,” she shrugs. “In my opinion, that’s still quite a lot of power to give away to a foreign leader, and as far as I know unheard of, but he’s trying to avoid another war that would drain his coffers.” 

“So, wait. I’m English royalty?” 

“Yup. And a Josean monarch by reputation. Your song means so much more now.” 

He scoffs, “Shut up.” 

She giggles a moment before sobering. “Okay, so the embarrassing and possibly distressing part…” 

“There’s more?” 

“Uh…so yeah. They would like to have the wedding here.” 

“Wedding?” 

“Ours. Uh…it’s the only way to keep you alive and keep me from being married off to someone I wouldn’t want. Uh…so we are getting married. Today. In a few hours, actually.” 

Yoongi stared blankly. “Like, married married? Look…if this is some army prank thing it’s not funny.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Since when would army shove you in a medieval jail for two months?” 

He opens his mouth to retort only to snap it closed again. Finally, he shrugs. “Never know.” 

“Anyway. Yes, married married. It’s either me or one of the princesses probably, both of whom are only seven. Like I mentioned earlier, it’s only going to be while we’re stuck here - it won’t count once we get back home. It’s safer to just stay together.” 

Yoongi sighs, feeling weary to the marrow of his bones. He was just so tired. Whatever game they were playing with him was beyond his ability to care about anymore. Hopefully, soon he would wake up and this would all have been a very long and horrible nightmare. 

“It doesn’t really sound like I have much of a choice here. So sure, married, whatever. Is that bath for me?” 

“Oh!” She exclaims, bouncing off the bed to stand next to his chair. “Yes, of course. God, you must have been so terrified and miserable in jail. I’ve walked through it once to deliver a message and that was bad enough. I’m so sorry for what you went through.” 

He shrugs, not willing to speak of it out loud quite yet. 

She helps him stand up and walks him over to the tub. “I figured you’d want to wash and have a nice nap before supper. I’ll send out word for clothes to be made for you, and borrow some from the Prince that will fit for now. We’ll talk more later when you’re less exhausted.” 

“Thanks,” he rumbles, waiting for her to leave. She turns and quickly rushes from the room, speaking softly to some maids waiting on the other side of the door. 

He notice a lock on the door and turned it, pulling the key from the hole and tossing it on the bed. Feeling someone safe for the first time in weeks, he finally turned to his bath. 

The tub was a huge copper thing that looked like it could fit three of him. It was beckoning him with hot steamy water, but he didn’t want to simply stew in his own filth. He grabbed one of the scraps of linen left lying around and one of the waiting tubs, deciding to sponge off what he could before getting in. 

He happily tore off the scratchy clothes and wiped away the worst of his filth, then stepped inside the tub, sighing happily as the heat penetrated his battered bones. Curiously, he looked around and found a ball of soap and a couple more pails waiting near the tub. The pails were for rinsing, he guessed. 

Grabbing the soap, he gave it a little sniff, cringing as his nose was assaulted by the heavy scent of roses. He supposed anything was better than what he currently smelled like though, so with a heavy sigh, he began to rub the ball on one of the linens. 

A knock on the door startled him and he stared at it warily. 

A moment later a voice spoke softly against the door. 

“Yoongi, it’s me. I have some things to give you.” 

He pushed himself out of the water and wrapped another linen around his waist before waddling to the door, grabbing the key on the way. He unlocked it and Y/N peeked her head in, holding a sack in front of her. 

“I have a few things that I’ve been working on with some friends. Much better bath products and stuff. All the soap here is heavily lye-based and pretty harsh so I had some made with goat's milk and herbs. There’s also tooth powder and a wooden toothbrush, some lotion, and a few other things I thought you might like,” she hands him the sack, which he gratefully received. He hasn’t been able to brush his teeth in ages so that alone is amazing news. 

“ Oh, and a jug of water! I’m sure you’ve already gone through the suffering with whatever water they were giving you, but this water has been properly boiled and filtered. I got a lot of weird looks for my demands for that one, I’ll tell you, but I was constantly sick when I first got here. Like, I was just catching all the ancient colds and everything I ate or drank made me sick, and yeah...it wasn’t a good time,” she wrinkles her nose as she offers him a clay jug. It’s heavy, but he manages to hold it without embarrassing himself too much. 

“I won’t keep you long because I’m sure your bath is getting cold. Just a heads up that you’ve been assigned a page boy. It’s fucking weird and I’ll talk to you about it more later, but you can’t turn him away because it would be an insult to the King and to the boy, not to mention his entire family.” 

“No pressure,” he scoffed roughly, his lips quirking slightly when she giggled. 

“Nope!” she responded with a pop, smirking playfully. “Just be nice to the kid. I’m actually pretty fond of this one, so I’m kinda happy we get to keep him. He’s only eight and was sent here last year to be a page for the youngest Prince, but he ended up choosing another. Good kid and son of a Duke, so don’t make him cry. I know it will seem weird to have a kid helping you, but just pretend he’s one of your dongsaengs if that makes you more comfortable.” 

“Got it,” he answered, shaking his head at the idea of some little kid being just handed to him. 

She nods, “As I said, I’ll explain everything in more detail later and answer any questions you have, but for now relax. Oliver will be here soon with food and a change of clothes for you,” she glances up at him shyly, nibbling her lip. “I guess...I hop...umm. I’ll see you at the altar, I suppose. Oliver will lead you to the chapel when it’s time. Have a nice nap!” 

She slams the door closed and he stares at it, bemused. She seemed to be afraid to really speak much about the marriage, but he knew enough about history to realize she was right about it being a necessity. He still felt like he was kinda floating around watching someone else that looked a lot like him live out this day, so he probably wasn’t freaking out as much as he should be. He’d read enough stuff to know that if he was really stuck in the past and not in some larper commune, having an alliance - be it marriage or something else - with someone close to the King would be his best bet for safety. He was willing to do just about anything to never have to see the stone walls of his prison cell ever again. 

He sets the clay jug on a table and sets the sack next to it, rifling inside for the soap. There are actually a few things in there that could potentially be bathing supplies, but he’d have to inspect everything later. For now, he simply wanted to finish getting clean before he passed out of sheer exhaustion. He grabbed a large chunk of something and brought it to his nose. Cinnamon, clove, lemon, and a few other herbs burst through the earth-toned block and he breathed a sigh of relief. Much better than smelling like he’d just rolled in old-lady perfume. 

He had just dunked himself back into his now lukewarm water when his room door burst open, reminding him that he hadn’t locked the damn thing back up. He supposed it was a good thing considering the young boy that strode in looked to be in danger of crumbling under his heavy load. 

Yoongi watched silently as the boy heaved and huffed all the way to the high bed, breathing a sigh of relief as the boy made it there without crumbling and settled half of his burden on the covers. He continued gently cradling a large tray that the bundle of clothing had been on top of and settled it on the small table not far from the fire, next to the water jug and sack of supplies. His hands finally free, the boy quickly scampered over to the tub and bowed lowly. 

“M’lady Reader says you don’t speak the King’s English very well, but that you probably understand some if I speak slowly and clearly,” the boy said, the slow movement of his mouth and words almost laughable. Yoongi grinned. The boy had taken his instructions from the woman almost too seriously. 

He was also slightly uncomfortable with how close the kid was to the tub. He didn’t want to traumatize him by flashing his bits and there were no bubbles, so he laid his hands over his lower half under the water to cover himself. 

‘My name is Oliver De Campion and I am the son of the Duke of Sutherland. I have been assigned to act as your page by the King until you either leave or you are free to take me on permanently if I perform to your sat..satifification.” 

He could tell by the way the kid was struggling over some words that he was simply repeating something that he was told to say, and it also made it harder for him to understand. He got the part about his name and something about performing. 

He studied the kid for a second, taking in the image of his wildly curly brown mop of hair and big brown eyes. Almost reminded him of Jungkook when he was young. The thought sent a spike of pain through his heart as he thought of his maknae. Kook had calmed through the years, but he was still sensitive and emotional enough that a hyung going missing would probably make him burst into tears. He hoped the others were safe and looking after each other. 

He sighed and forced himself to focus on the differences instead so as not to trigger himself. Oliver had a nose bridge full of freckles and a small gap in his front teeth. He was of course younger and white and currently babbling at him endlessly in English. 

“Oliver,” he began, waiting for the boy to meet his eyes. When he finally fell silent and glanced at Yoongi in question, he waved towards the door. “Thank you, but...alone.” 

“OH!” Oliver nodded in agreement so hard that Yoongi was surprised his neck was still attached. “M’lady Reader did say that you were most likely going to be like her and not require bathing assistance. She’s always right, she is.” 

Yoongi snorted, gathering enough to know this kid had a bit of hero worship going on for “ M’lady Reader. ” 

“There’s several changes of clothing for you on the bed and a robe for after your bath. Also, the cook sent up a bit of food to tide you over until the wedding feast. M’lady Reader said to let you sleep for as long as possible before we needed to get you ready, so if you don’t need anything else Your Ex...Excellanacny.” 

Yoongi waved the boy away with a silent laugh, shaking his head as the boy clumsily bows and runs off with a skip in his step - no doubt to go find his precious “M’lady.” 

He finishes the rest of his bath quickly, scrubbing the soap over every inch of his battered skin and hair. It was going to make the already abused strands seriously crunchy, but he had no other choice at the moment. When he was done, he stepped out and dried himself with the still slightly damp linen and shuffled towards the bed to inspect the clothes. If he was going to be allowed a nap he wouldn’t put on all the fancy silk and tights or whatever this shit was. There was a huge crimson velvet robe embroidered with a bunch of designs in blue thread that looked good enough for now though. 

He shrugged it on and luxuriated in the feel of the velvet against his skin. It had been so long since he’d been able to feel anything except the scratchy linen given to him by his captors. Now that he was bathed and clothed he only had one more duty before he could slide between the covers of the massive canopied bed. Food. 

He went to the tiny table and sat down, lifting the cover of the tray to reveal a variety of goods. Nothing seemed too fancy or rich, probably because they knew he’d been living off that grey porridge for weeks now and would puke anything crazy up. There was bread and cheese, some fruits, some sort of savory pie thing, and a few round cracker-looking discs. He was hungry - ravenously so - but the warmth of the bath was making him so tired he couldn’t even think about sitting there and eating all of it, so he nibbled a bit on everything and then put the lid back over it. He’d try to eat a bit more of the bread and crackers later. 

Sated enough to sleep now, he crawled onto the enormous bed and slipped under the blue covers. The mattress was interesting, maybe made with feathers and almost too soft. He nestled in anyway and closed his eyes, knowing he’d be asleep so fast it wouldn’t matter. His last thought was that he hoped he would be home next time he woke up - the same thing he’d thought every time he’d managed to fall asleep these past few months.

Chapter Text

After being in the past for nearly two years now you’d begun to consider yourself impervious to surprise. Little could shock anyone more than waking up one day to find themselves flung into the Middle Ages, riding to the King’s castle like the protagonist in a video game. Then of course there had been the realities of life during this time that had taken some getting used to - the filth and disease, the way murder was mostly looked at as a way of life, the way a strong independent woman like yourself now had to act like women were born with half a brain just to survive. You were thankfully a high-ranking lady of the court and were therefore shielded from perhaps some of the more heinous things that went on in this world, but you’d seen enough. 

The point was, you’d adapted as well as you could to living here, and little startled you anymore - until today. 

You had simply been expecting yet another boring day of standing at the Queen’s side listening to rich spoiled nobles bitching about petty arguments and kissing the King’s ass. You’d been mostly lost in your own head as you silently complained about missing the internet when the self-righteous jackass that was the Marshall strode in, the fat Warden at his side. They were both horrible men who had hundreds of complaints against them, and you’ve been trying to subtly hint at the King that they needed to be replaced. 

Your eyes had fallen to the prisoner being violently tugged along behind them and it was hard to describe everything you had felt at that moment. Your stomach had dropped like you were on the downward slope of a rollercoaster as you gasped and met the man’s eyes. Your breathing became frantic and you clenched your fist. 

God, no. Of all the people in the world to be thrust back into this hell with you. Why him? 

Why Min Fucking Yoongi? 

He looked horrible. Clearly exhausted and malnourished. His normally pale skin was nearly white as snow, with only the dark shadows under his eyes giving him any real color. You’d seen this man looking far too skinny during his comeback seasons, but his cheeks were so drawn in they could cut glass. His black hair was scraggly and unwashed - hopefully, he hadn’t caught lice as was common in prisoners around here. 

You stared at his rope-tied hands and grimaced as the ring of red and purple around them meant this was definitely not the first time he’d been tied. 

You had to think fast to get him free. Some way that would let the King absolve himself of any guilt so he would be feeling generous enough to give you what you asked for. And the first thing that came to mind? 

You’d thrown yourself to the floor and declared him the King of Korea. And not only that - your betrothed. 

Once he awakened from his nap and had a clearer mind you were certain he was going to be furious. Maybe rant and rave and demand his freedom. However, you were the expert on this adventure, and you knew there was no freedom to be found. At least, not the kind he wanted. 

Here, the only freedom to be had belonged to those with power, so you’d given him as much as possible. He was now a foreign King with land and titles in England, something that no other Monarch would be willing to give. 

Fortunately for you, history had somehow become skewed and you’d ended up with an old rather weak man ruling England who was desperate to recover from the legacy of his father’s war campaigns. His coffers and armies were low and his previous Queen had died in childbirth, leaving behind two young daughters. His current Queen had yet to produce and was rather simple-minded. His line was unsecure and he was feeling the pressure. He could pass his title to one of his cousins, but the princes were all awful and would likely send the Kingdom into the ground. 

In short, he’d do absolutely anything to avoid a war with a foreign leader at the moment, and he was fully prepared to kiss Yoongi’s ass if she demanded it. 

So, marriage it was then. The King would give them titles and land and she would be able to stick close to Yoongi and keep him safe - and get out of this wretched hive of filth and treachery that was court life. The King would feel secure thinking he had a foreign monarch in his pocket. Yoongi would have enough power and influence that no one could touch him here ever again. It worked out well for everyone. 

Still…marriage…to Min Yoongi. 

You’d been a pretty big fan of his group before this. Not the buying literally everything and going to every event sort of fan, but definitely a watched all run episodes and read a few fics sort. So, enough to know that you were a Suga stan. You’d enjoyed both his music and the personality that he shared with the public. He’d seemed like someone that you could have been friends with. That was always as far as your interest had gone. You’d never been the type of person to daydream about celebrities or fall madly in love with some public persona. 

Which didn’t explain why you felt this fierce need to protect and hold tight to the man now that you’ve actually met him face to face. Perhaps it was simply because he was the first familiar thing you’ve seen in two years. Maybe it was because there was finally someone here that would understand your struggles and pain since landing in this strange situation. A big part of it was most likely due to how horrified you were at the way he’d been treated. 

Whatever your reasons for prostrating yourself on the ground like some Josean k-drama heroine, you were just happy that you were able to save him, no matter if he’d be angry about the way it had to happen. 

You sigh and go back to your mess of papers in front of you, cringing over how much work there was to be done now. It had been merely two hours since the King had declared you the new Duchess of Lancaster and you were already being bombarded with invitations and requests for favors. It seemed every twenty minutes or so another page or servant was rapping at your chamber door to deliver another stack of parchment and gifts. 

This wasn’t something completely new, as your status wasn’t exactly low to begin with. You were not only known as the daughter of a Duke, but you were a favored companion of the Queen and had the King’s ear as well. It seemed, however, that now that you were to be a Duchess as well as a Queen - even if a foreign one - the invitations and attempts to curry your favor had doubled at a rapid rate. 

Parchment after parchment begging your audience, your attendance to a hunt, requests for trades with Lancaster, a few racier ones declaring their interest in you despite your wedding happening in mere hours. Gifts were often sent along as well in an attempt to sweeten you towards their “requests.” Cloth, jewels, spices. One cheekier young Baron that was known as the court’s flirt - the medieval fuckboy - sent along with a lock of his hair and a request to meet him for a ride the next day. You’d promptly thrown that in the fire…well, not the hair because that would have stunk up your room. That you’d thrown into your chamber pot. 

Your maid saved you from reading yet another line of political rubbish when she arrived with a beaming smile and a gold velvet bundle in her arms. 

“My lady, look at what the Queen has sent you!” 

Edda was a tiny girl of seventeen, every part of her petite and adorably dainty except for her riotous mass of strawberry blond ringlets that she loved to pile on top of her head like a crown of springy curls. Those curls were currently all you could see over the overlarge bundle of cloth she strode in with. 

You observe as the girl unfurls her bundle and reveals a gown. Instead of the demure woolen kirtle style you’d gotten used to, this was a vision of blue and grey damask, with long loose sleeves and a daringly low-cut bodice trimmed with pearls. The skirt was huge and had a small train in the back. It seemed to be a blend of Germanic and Italian influences in style. You hadn’t seen anything of the sort since you’ve been here. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper in awe, standing up to touch the fabric. 

“Aye,” your maid Edda said with an equally awe-struck tone. “Her Majesty says that as you are to be a Queen yourself you must look the part on your wedding day. The entire court will be there to witness after all.” 

You cringe at that reminder. You hated being the center of attention, but you knew the Queen was going to make this a ridiculous affair. 

“And look,” she continued, unveiling more goods. “There’s matching slippers and…” she offered you a wooden box. “She said these belong to you now. They came back to the crown after the last Duchess passed fifty years ago.” 

You quirk an eyebrow and accept the box, opening the lid only gasp in surprise. 

“What the hell?” 

Inside laying in all their resplendent glory was an entire set of sapphire jewelry - a massive necklace of five golden squares all inlaid with the blue gems, along with matching earrings and two golden rings with roughly cut sapphires set atop them. 

“The Lancaster Sapphires, My Lady. According to Her Majesty, there is a legend involved with these gems. That every pairing who has worn them has a blessed marriage. That they are…” the maid paused, blushing. She waved her hand to get you closer and whispered, “Soulmates.” 

You snort and lean back to look again inside the box. Soulmates. Such a ridiculous concept only belonged in fanfiction and cheesy movies. 

“She said the important parts are the sapphires and you can have them reset in a new style if you’d like. It’s what every Duchess has done once they inherited. There’s a ring in there for your betrothed as well, My Lady. Twas the Duke’s before...but I sneaked a peek at him earlier and you might need to have his reset for certain.” 

Looking at the larger of the two rings, you agreed. It would have to do for now as you didn’t have anything else that would fit him. He had such long elegant fingers, you thought, amazingly lovely in person. The ring would have to be tied on until you had a chance to fix it. Or just not wear it, you supposed. Rings weren’t required for men after all.  

“Send a message of thanks to Her Majesty, will you? And then gather some hot water for a quick clean-up. It’s time to get ready,” you swallow hard and close the lid on the box, setting it aside for now. 

“Aye, My Lady,” Edda answers excitedly. “Let’s get you wed.” 

******

To say that the ceremony was just a blur of memories would be an understatement. You had been a mass of nerves and anxiety, unable to cease trembling. You weren’t even sure what it was that had you so on edge, beyond the obvious. You knew it had to happen, but it didn't make the writhing bubbles in your gut cease. If you had been paired up with one of these medieval men that would be understandable. They were Neanderthals on their best days and beating the shit out of their wives was legal. However, Yoongi was a modern man. One that you didn’t know well, though. 

Still, it was a fairly rushed affair considering the King had wanted everything done today. He’d posted the banns - publicly announced your marriage - to appease the priest, even if he still hadn’t been pleased in the end due to everything being rushed. He’d assigned one of his young cousins to act as Yoongi’s best man and walk with them as their small procession journeyed to the chapel. He and the Queen had even arranged for a group of minstrels to play despite the fact that the wedding procession was happening indoors and going down a hallway instead of the traditional journey to an outdoor chapel. 

You had consulted with the master of the wardrobe yourself about Yoongi’s clothing, simply letting him know that the man preferred subtle styles with little frills and subdued colors. While the image of Yoongi walking about in striped pantaloons and ridiculous feathered hats was amusing, you’d known he wouldn’t appreciate it. 

The master had come through splendidly. His tunic was black and embroidered with silver thread in a decorative pattern around the bottom edge. His breeches were also black, so tight on him they nearly resembled leather pants. Behind him was a long black cape that appeared to be silk trimmed with silver ermine fur. Normally you were extremely anti-real fur, but it was a different time. Literally. 

The cape was attached to his shoulders with two brooches that you recognized as belonging to the King himself. And atop his head was a borrowed silver circlet signaling his royal status. Royalty loaning out crowns - no matter how unadorned - was unheard of as far as you knew. That just showed how absolutely desperate the King was to avoid war and atone for Yoongi’s mistreatment at any cost. 

In fact, you’d even been sporting a small circlet of your own, a simple thin band of gold. You wondered if these things were meant to make your head throb in pain or if it was simply your psyche adding the extra pressure. 

The ceremony itself had been...interesting. There was the boring part about God and holy ghosts. And the bride was expected to remain silent the whole time, which was sexist as hell. The King spoke up in your father’s stead, claiming his right to give you away. 

But the moment that you will remember for the rest of your life, whether this remained a marriage of convenience or not, were Yoongi’s vows. He’d looked straight into your eyes, his own now more rested and clear, and said the words that Oliver had helped him memorize. 

“I, Min Yoongi, take thee, Reader, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, for fairer or fouler, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part. According to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I pledge thee my faith.” 

He hadn’t stumbled or faltered. His accent had been as clear as he could make it. He’d helped you lift your shaking hand up and slid the sapphire ring onto your finger. Immediately you gasped as a strange warmth settled in your chest, your eyes flying to him to see if he’d felt it too. He seemed curious about your reaction, but that was it. It had just been you. What had that been? 

You’d filed it away in the back of your mind as you’d both been dragged back to the great hall, where your monarchs had gone a little too crazy and had thrown a massive feast. It was where you found yourself now, sitting with a trencher full of roasted chicken and varieties of pastries that you normally would have dug right into. Instead, you nibbled on some bread as you waited for your nerves to die down. 

Yoongi had yet to really say anything to you that wasn’t scripted or essential towards the ceremony. Not that you could really blame him seeing as he was being forced to marry a stranger to stay out of prison. Instead, he seemed content to accept the wine and ale being shoved in his direction by the overly drunk nobles surrounding them. And judging by the flush slowly taking over his face, he wasn’t far from joining them. 

You waved to get your maid’s attention, letting her know that you wished to retire. She nodded and went to inform the other ladies because unfortunately tonight you weren’t simply going to be able to jump into bed. Oh no, now came the absolute worst part of weddings during this time. 

You stood and nodded at those that met your eyes, bowing in the direction of the King. The Queen was joining the small army of women waiting to escort you upstairs, smiling gleefully as you slowly strode over to join them. You refused to look at Yoongi, knowing that your nerves wouldn’t be able to handle it without blushing like a dumbass. 

You followed the women upstairs silently, letting them chatter amongst themselves. They were leading you not to your own room, but to Yoongi’s, where you would reside with him for the next two days before you left for Lancaster. Your belongings should have been moved over during the ceremony. You just hoped that Oliver had informed Yoongi of the change so he wouldn’t be too shocked. 

Once behind the safety of the bedroom door, the army of women attacked. They helped you undress, cooing over your skin free of childhood illness or pockmarks. Even the Queen circled you, inspecting you like a prized mare. 

“She’s lovely, isn’t she? I dare say His Grace will be most pleased,” the Queen squealed happily. She really was too young to be in the position she was. 

“Thank you, mistress,” you responded shyly, feeling far too exposed and vulnerable. You’d already been warned ahead of time however that there would be no way of getting out of this. Being stripped down and put to bed was an unfortunate wedding tradition of this time. 

The women turned down the bed and helped you into it before turning to stoke the fire, making sure the room would be warm enough. Right as you pulled the blankets up to cover your nakedness, the bedroom door slammed open and another small army of men strode through carrying a half-nude Yoongi above them like a crowd-surfer at a rock concert, the priest trailing behind them. Yoongi’s eyes were wide and wild with alarm and you knew then that no one had thought to inform him of the bedding ceremony. You should have done it yourself, but you’d been busy as well and had only a few hours to prepare. 

The men set him down and crowded around him and you heard nothing but drunken laughter and the tearing of clothes until Yoongi was yet again manhandled and set on top of the bed next to you. He scrambled for the blankets but before he could fully slip under you caught flashes of beautiful pale skin with pink joints and pink…well. Yeah. It had been pink too. 

You blushed and looked away quickly, trying to let him salvage as much dignity as possible. 

“Aye, he’s a bit o’ a small lad. If you need a man to take care o’ you later lemme know,” an obese and sweaty Baron winked lewdly at you, leering at your bare shoulders. 

He hadn’t looked small there, so he must have meant as a whole. Still, fuck that guy. 

As they both lay under the covers naked and completely uncomfortable, the priest blessed the bed and their marriage. Agnes passed you a cup of wine that you took a small sip of before passing it over to Yoongi without looking at him. You anxiously listened to him loudly slurping like he wanted to sound annoying and was daring someone to say something so he could start a fight. 

Bless Her Majesty, she finally clapped and drew the attention back to herself. “Let us leave them to their duty. Good sleep, Your Grace’s.” 

“Good sleep, Your Majesty,” you chime back, a nervous smile tilting your lips. Yoongi remains silent, glaring at everyone from his spot on your right. 

The moment the door slams behind the last guest your shoulders drop, happy to have that done at least. Now came the rest. You sneak a glance over at Yoongi, cringing when your eyes meet and he’s already glaring at you. 

“What. The. Everloving. FUCK . Was that?” he growled. 

“Err, the bedding ceremony. It’s an English tradition from these times. Don’t know if they did it anywhere else. Uh...it’s to symbolically confirm the marriage’s consummation? I’ve actually heard of some where they have to have witnesses...uhh, you know...during. So, this was definitely better.” 

He grunted, and you could practically hear his teeth grinding he was so heated. 

“Fuck this fucking place. Just when I thought I couldn’t feel more violated here they literally rip off my clothes in front of a damn audience?” 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you cringe, frowning sympathetically. “Oliver was supposed to warn you about that but I guess he forgot. To be fair to him, there was a lot of information to trust to an eight-year-old. I should have warned you about it myself.” 

He silently stews, tugging the blankets up to cover his own chest before noticing your own bare shoulders. He quirks an eyebrow and you nod. 

“Yeah, me too. In fact, that’s not even the most humiliating thing that’s going to happen. At least not for me.” 

You give a weary sigh tug the small dagger from under the pillow where you had Oliver hide it earlier. Yoongi’s eyes widen in alarm and he raises his hands defensively. 

“Relax, it’s not for you,” you roll your eyes then tug the sheets away from your legs just enough to bare a naked thigh. 

You take a few breathes to fortify yourself and then set the dagger tip against your flesh. Your teeth grit as you drag it shallowly across, bringing up just enough blood for your needs. 

“The fuck are you doing now?” 

“We have to have consummated the marriage for it to be fully legal here…and I will have to have been a virgin,” you explain, swiping the blood from your thigh and pulling a sheet loose to wrap around you as you stand up. You flip the remaining blankets onto Yoongi’s side and swipe your hand across the sheets, turning from Yoongi to place the remaining red streaks across your thighs for the maids to notice later. 

“Are you saying they’ll check if we fucked?” 

“Worse,” you chuckle wryly, striding to the dressing screen where Edda had left you a nightdress. You tug it over your head and sigh in relief as you’re finally clothed and able to move freely. There were clothes waiting for Yoongi behind the screen as well. You walk back to the bed and finish explaining, tossing the sheet at him.  

“Tomorrow morning when the servants come to wake us up, the maids will gather the bottom sheet and it will be displayed on the banister like a bloody flag of triumph to your manhood. Congratulations.” 

“Jesus,” Yoongi grunted in disgust. “Fucking white people, man.” 

You snort and wave towards the screen. “There are some clothes back there for you too. I promise I won’t look if you want to run for it.” 

He eyes you dubiously but slides out of the bed, quickly wrapping the sheet around his entire body like a cloak and running for the screen. 

A few seconds later, you hear a sigh. “There’s just a long shirt here.” 

“Yeah, that’s what they had to wear. We will be able to get you some custom stuff later once we leave the court. We don’t need the gossip that will happen when you invent boxers and T-shirts.” 

He grunts and the room falls silent for a time while he shrugs on the long shirt. He shuffles out of the screen and you fight the urge to laugh at his disgruntled expression. The nightshirt practically falls to his shins it’s so long and the broadness of his shoulders was probably the only thing keeping the shirt from dropping straight to the floor. 

He waddles back to the bed, grumbling under his breath the whole way. 

“Let’s just sleep for now. It’s been a long day and I’m sure things will seem less weird in the morning,” you try to smile reassuringly as he quirks an eyebrow in obvious disbelief. Still, he allows you to throw the covers back over him after he crawls back onto the high bed and shuffles around until he’s laying on his back with his hands folded like he’s at his funeral. You shake your head and get comfy yourself, closing your eyes and forcing your mind to clear enough for sleep. 

*****

It most certainly was NOT less weird in the morning, at least for you. The moment you’d opened your eyes you’d realized that you had turned towards Yoongi sometime in the night and he had done the same. His face was smooshed into your shared pillow, his lips pushed into an adorable pout as a tiny bit of drool escaped. This close it was hard not to notice how simply beautiful he was. Sure, he needed some fattening up, which you would happily take care of. And the dark circles under his eyes were still visible and probably would be for a while. However, it wasn’t enough to mask the perfect skin that had taken him years to achieve, or the adorable button nose, or how pretty his cat-like eyes were…

Wait…

Yoongi narrowed those eyes at you, seeming to study you right back. 

“Good morning?” 

And damn the man, even his morning breath wasn’t the worst you’d encountered. 

“Morning! Sorry, wasn’t being creepy. It just takes my brain a minute to realize we’re awake.” 

He hums and slowly sits up, stretching his arms above his head. 

“How are you feeling?” you ask as you roll out of bed, trying to tame your hair a bit. 

“Mmm, better. Sleeping in an actual bed helps.” 

A knock sounded at the door and you cringe, waving at him to jump off the bed. He does, watching you curiously. You push the other coverings out of the way and pull up the bottom sheet, waddling it up unceremoniously before walking to the door and pulling it open. 

“We won’t need assistance this morning, thank you,” you tell the waiting maids on the other side. “Edda should be along soon with food to break our fast. I thank you.” 

The maids giggle, obviously taking that to mean the newly married couple wished to have more alone time. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt if the two of you had a reputation for...enjoying each other’s company. You shove the sheet one of them, your cheeks blazing despite your knowledge that absolutely nothing happened, and slam the door closed. 

You sigh and peek at Yoongi, who is leaning against one of the bed posts and watching you with an amused expression. 

“Hush. Anyway, today is going to be a busy day, just letting you know. You are free to stay with me at all times or go exploring while I make arrangements - up to you. I’m going to be making travel plans and writing ahead to whoever the Steward is to figure out staffing needs and things like that. I dunno, we’ll figure things out as we go a long, I guess.” 

You walk towards the pair of chests at the foot of the bed, showing him that he had one filled with clothing you’d talked out of the master of the wardrobe. 

“Did the physician come to see you yesterday?” 

He turns at your quiet question, nodding. 

“Yeah. Nothing that was a surprise. Need to eat and sleep. Said something about humors and ghosts in the blood or whatever.” 

“I…” you chew your lip and softly ask. “Can I just say something real quick? Like, it’s sappy or whatever but...you’re not alone now. You know? I know that it was probably really fucking hard and confusing when you first got here, and you ended up suffering so much. I’ve been here for almost two years and this whole time I thought I was going to end up living and dying here feeling completely alone and not understood by anyone,” you gulp, trying to fight off a wave of anxiety that even the thought of living like that brought on. “I...I know it’s hard and I have no idea if we are ever going to get home but...I’m here for you a hundred percent, okay? This is a harsh world and I will fight hard to keep you safe. Keep us safe. Because this place is trash. 0/10 don’t recommend. Worst air b&b ever.” 

He snorts and turns away, but not before you caught a slight shimmer of wetness in his lovely eyes. 

“Alright,” you sniff and pretend to dust off your nightgown. “Let’s make you a King!”