Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“If I may, Mother, I would rather tear my own wings and feed them to myself than be wedded with this man.”

“Son.” Dahee makes a reprimanding click of her tongue. “You’ll be fine.”

“Of all men populating Aurora, not only have you chosen one from Amaris, a human, but also the heir of the Jeon dynasty.” Taehyung meets his mother’s gaze, his own hardening at her stubbornness. “The son and future prince of the very empire that had attempted then nearly succeeded in expunging dragonborns from the world.”

“You speak my mind, Son,” Junhyun says, the rotund man sipping from the mug of coffee he had fixed himself minutes ago. “I have been trying to sway you mother toward a more befitting suitor for you, all in vain.”

“You two.” Dahee peers at her mate who rests the bottom of his cup on his round belly. “This rivalry with humans has lasted for far too long. The Great War occurred centuries ago, long before either of us was born. While we still suffer its repercussions, it is tamed by the peace treaty. By the Accords. We must move forward. Learn forgiveness and acceptance. This association with the Jeon dynasty will be a prime example of how humans and dragonborns can, not solely live next to one another, but unite as a thriving nation.”

“Dragonborns don't need peace. Not with humans,” Taehyung snips, his right leg jutting up and down. “We have peace among our peers and that is all that should matter.”

Dahee shakes her head. “You spend too much time with your grandfather. He has corrupted your mind.”

“My dear, our son—”

“Will go through this marriage as he had agreed upon,” Dahee declares with stern firmness. “Taehyung had found no trouble being wedded in such fashion when we had approached him about this subject in the past. The mutual dowry that will be granted to our family and the Jeon family cannot be neglected because of archaic worldviews.”

“An arranged marriage is a fine endeavor with anyone but a human. Jeon's son at that,” Taehyung emphasizes because his mother seems to have yet fully encompassed the horror of her inane proposal.

“A lot is to learn from humans."

“Like what? Betrayal? Vanity? Or perhaps they could teach us how to entirely erase a race to satisfy an insatiable greed.”

Junhyun makes a face; a grimace that is half in agreement, half in denial, yet fully silent as he prefers to munch on the pastries he and his mate had baked earlier this morning.

“As I said many, many times, forgiveness must be given in order to grow. Vengeance is regressive, Taehyung. It would do you well to remember this.” Dahee pushes herself up. “Until then, if you must find me, I will be out with our hunting squadrons. Winter is arriving, and we must stock up on meat.”

“Be safe, Darling,” Junhyun smiles, earning himself a peck on the mouth.

“I always am.” Dahee aims a pointed look toward Taehyung.

Then, and without any further ado, she vacates the dining room, the door closing behind her back.

A silence stretches between Taehyung and his father. The latter busies himself with dipping his croissant into his coffee. It’s when Junhyun’s teeth clasp around the pastry that he peers up, his eyes roundening at his son’s scrutiny.

“Guessing you won’t help me change her mind."

“You and I both know such things rarely exist. Your mother is obstinate.”

“Could you, at the very least, side with me in a less quiet manner?”

“I had, Son.” Junhyun has this look in his eyes that easily translates as a forlorn surrender. “However I found it wise to not push further as I am not looking forward to an early death.”

“She’s your wife,” Taehyung objects and he purses his lips when his father pats his arm with a bright smile.

“Exactly, my son.” Junhyun rises from his chair, taking his cup with him.

“You’re a coward. She has you wrapped around her finger.” Taehyung bites back a smile when his father enthusiastically nods.

“Happily so!” Air leaves Taehyung’s lungs for a split second when his father smacks his large hand between his shoulder blades. “Your mother and I were in a marriage akin to yours. I fell in love at first sight with her brilliant mind, fierceness and otherworldly beauty. She hated me. Or rather disliked me. It took time for her to come around, however she eventually did and—”

“I know the story, Dad.”

“What I mean to say is to not give up on hope. Your marriage may be an unexpected good omen.”

“It’s not marriage in itself that bothers me. As I said years ago, I don't mind it. It’s who I will marry.”

“As much as I understand the reasons behind your anger, I also understand your mother’s motives behind her faith. Dahee’s care and ambition is why she makes such a well respected leader amongst others. She has her family and her people’s best interests in mind, and more. She has always wanted to be closer to humans and grow alongside them.”

“For political matters only.”

“You and I know that isn’t true. She cares about humans. She has friends in Amaris and other cities in the west.”

“Let me guess.” Taehyung leans back against his chair and tilts his head up to meet his father’s gaze. “Those humans befriended her because they gain something in return: money, influence, knowledge and whatnot, either way information that they will inevitably use against us.”

Junhyun frowns. “You are spending too many days in her father’s lair. You're starting to sound like him.”

“Speaking of.” Taehyung slides his chair back to walk around it and toward the exit door. “I have to see him.”

“Remember to be there at 8 pm for dinner, Son.”

“Yeah.”

Taehyung briskly strides outside the dining room and through the hallways, passing by the living room.

Taehyung has always loved his home. The place is vast, with open spaces and ceilings high enough to accommodate dragonborns if they wish to bring forth their wings or tail while in their human form. The house is mostly made out of sturdy wood of all kinds, accentuated by bay windows and haphazard touches of green with the various plants arranged here and there.

Now, however, the comfort it would usually provide yet fails to after the argument with his mother prompts Taehyung to vacate the place.

The moment he steps foot in the garden surrounding the house, Taehyung tugs at the pool of arcane residing within his chest. A gust of grey wind wraps around him, and the familiar warmth is next. Soon, his body changes, the human leaving place to the dragon.

The process is and has always been painless, like adorning a new suit, one albeit much more scaly, large and deadly than the other. 

Not wasting another second, and angsty to leave the ground, Taehyung propels himself up, the grass rustling at the powerful down sweeps of his wings of a pearly iridescent white. He soars further away from his home and he remains afloat high aloft the canopy, his gaze raking across the view below him.

Being a dragonborn is a legacy that Taehyung wears with pride. Everything that it brings in its path is enchanting and breathtaking: whether it being the prospect of transforming into a full fledged majestic dragon, or having the possibility to glide through the sky and clouds, reveling in the boundless freedom. It’s still an occurrence Taehyung has not gotten used to: this chance to be allowed to coexist among other aerial creatures, like the flocks of birds that accompany him and migrate this or that direction.

He’s not the sole dragonborn airborne. Thunders of them drift above the tree lines of the forest and the outskirts of Vanae on the far east, the main town in Taehyung’s family’s land. He sees families with parents guiding their wyrmlings through the sky while some prefer to enjoy the ride on their parent’s back, their wings too underdeveloped to carry them.

Taehyung’s wings thrust him near his destination.

He soon reaches the broad mountain range spanning across the horizon. He turns sideways and flies toward an isolated cave in the rocky hill.

Taehyung’s grandfather on his mother’s part of the family has always been a recluse man. Since his retirement from his role as Vanae’s leader after his daughter had taken over, he had chosen to live away from most in favor of a peace that Taehyung envies when reminded of the current circumstances of his visit.

A roar bellows in the quietude that Taehyung echoes with one of his own, signaling his presence to his grandfather.

Minutes later, and only after receiving a loud rumble of confirmation, Taehyung flattens his wings against his flanks to dive inside the lair. The tunnel is wide, accommodating the gargantuan size of Taehyung’s dragon form. The lair that it leads to is even wider, to a point where it could easily fit a dozen fully grown dragons.

There, at the middle, stands a bulky man with short, black hair who appears to be concocting what Taehyung can only describe as a slimy sludge.

Taehyung’s mood that had spoiled pacifies at the scene — even if he may become the test subject of yet another potion prepared by the healing dragonborn.

Taehyung’s wings flutter as he lowers himself on the makeshift of a landing platform, and after deftly coming to rest on the flat rock formation, he adorns his human self again, clothes reappearing at once.

“You better have a good reason to be bothering me in my sleep."

“You seemed awake?” Taehyung perplexedly says. He jumps down in the lair, a round room that forms the living and dining room, as well as the kitchen and bedroom.

Minsoo turns around to glare at Taehyung, enough for the latter to notice his grandfather’s bloodshot left eye. “I sleep with my eye open, kid.”

Taehyung snorts and marches toward one of the tables that isn’t littered by knickknacks of vials, pots, books and other miscellaneous goods that Minsoo hoards. “Have you slept at all recently?”

Minsoo waves a dismissive hand. “Why are you here?” 

“My wedding.” Taehyung slumps down on an uncomfortable, frayed chair that surprisingly does not fall apart under his weight.

Minsoo’s lips curve around a curious smile, a glint of amusement flicking in his eye before it vanishes as he faces his workstation. “Have you finally met your betrothed?”

Taehyung scoffs. “No.”

“Why so damn petulant?”

“You wouldn’t be able to guess who my soon-to-be husband is.” Taehyung softens his tone so as to not ignite his grandfather’s temper, a flaw that Dahee had gained from the old man and that had then been — regrettably — passed onto Taehyung.

“Is it a woman?” Minsoo stresses the last word with offended vehemence, well aware of Taehyung’s preferences.

Taehyung can’t reign in the laughter escaping his mouth. “No."

“S’what I thought. Then it can’t be that bad. Unless it's Kang's son, Jisung. Dimwit of a kid wouldn’t be able to add one plus one if you asked him to. I had asked him once and his eyes had taken the light of the emptiest void.”

“It’s not him.”

“Who? Youngjae? Minho? By the Elders, if it’s Woobin—”

“Jungkook.”

Minsoo swivels on his left foot, the prosthetics of his right leg whirring when he does. Taehyung sees the soot covering the right half of his grandfather’s face, surely the results of a potion gone terribly wrong. Features etched in his usual scowl, Minsoo snatches a rag to roughly wipe his face, the attempt at making himself more presentable only serving to spread the grim. 

“Who in hell is that?”

“The heir of the Jeon dynasty."

Minsoo flings the dirty rag on the workstation, a tad too close to the cauldron filled with a boiling substance. He walks forward and in a few long strides punctuated by the clack of the foot of his metal prosthetic, he stops in front of Taehyung.

Minsoo has always been an intimidating man, mostly due to his abrasive and blunt personality, but also because of his large stature, rivaling with Junhyun’s. However where Taehyung’s father is overweight with rotund but powerful muscles hidden under the chubbiness, Minsoo is squared with a burly and athletic strength that ripples beneath the loose garments.

So Taehyung reclines in his chair when Minsoo looms over him, the old man's frown aggravated to a glower. “You better be lying to me, Kim Taehyung.”

“I’m not. Mom and Dad summoned me this morning to tell me more about my betrothed. We’ll properly discuss this around dinner tonight."

“You are not marrying one of those human bastards, let alone Jeon's son. Your parents must have gone mad and forgotten what has happened to us. To you.”

“That’s what I told her,” Taehyung grumbles, vindicated by his grandfather’s fury.

Minsoo steps away to save the rag from burning to a crisp, tossing the remainder of it on the ground. “Do you want to marry Jeon's son?” 

“Of course not," Taehyung snips. "They're definitely concocting some kind of plan to overthrow us or stab us in the back one way or another. Their son must be some sort of bait, at best. An instigator at worst.”

Minsoo hums and he strokes his beard, the low rumble echoing through the lair. “Your father has developed the backbone of a damn hatchling. He would break his own spine if it meant keeping Dahee happy.”

Taehyung barks out a laugh. “You raised her to be as hard-headed as you are.”

“A mistake.” Minsoo lifts the heavy cauldron to unceremoniously drop it on the ground, some of its now turned teal sludge spilling over. “Come here and give a hand to your old man instead of sitting in that chair wallowing in your despair,” Minsoo says. Taehyung purses his lips but obeys. “Have to fill those bottles.” Minsoo nods at a row of glass vials. “Then I’ll take you to a new spot I found. You’ll like it.”

Taehyung gazes at his grandfather with skepticism. “Will I really like it? Or are you saying that because you want to see me struggle to fit through whatever cave you’ll be taking us to?" He tries to harden his tone with faux annoyance but it’s rendered useless by a bubbling anticipation. He remembers the numerous occasions where he has gone out with Minsoo, the two often spending time flying and exploring together, where some of those outings would sporadically end with them finding themselves at the core of a dragonborn’s wrath when his grandfather would decide to pester one of his old friends.

A cheeky smile dances on Minsoo’s mouth, his golden eye full of mirth. “You’ll see, kid.”

“What about Mom?” Taehyung worries, surprised that Minsoo would let the issue of the marriage fall off so promptly.

“We’ll speak to her tonight during dinner. Perhaps the both of us can change her mind.”

“No.”

“Mom—”

“I said no.” Dahee’s glare snaps from her father to Taehyung.

“You don’t seem to grasp the dangers you will bring upon our family by allowing a Jeon to marry your son,” Minsoo interjects, the haphazard wrinkles betraying his age deepened by his furrowed brows.

“You have raised me to be welcoming and loving to others,” Dahee retorts, setting her chopsticks on her empty plate.

“To our people. Our kin,” Minsoo spits. He doesn’t raise his voice, per say, but it still booms through the dining room. “Humans cause nothing but pests of all kinds. Me, of all dragonborns, knows that.”

Dahee visibly deflates at this addition as she lowers her gaze on her glass of wine. Taehyung glances at the scar marring the angle of Minsoo's jaw: it cleaves up to the forehead, the right eye socket deprived of its organ.

“Must I remind you that humans have decimated my family’s family among dozens of thousands more? Your own ancestors?” Minsoo's hand flies to what remains of his amputated right leg, fingers squeezing to ease down the quivers Taehyung can notice.

“I know what was done to dragonborns,” Dahee's mellowed gaze meets Minsoo’s, “however I, and other members of the Council, believe we can learn to—”

“This marriage and any other the Council will agree with will provide an effortless way for humans to slither inside our politics.”

“Yes. However it’ll be done in a controlled environment where what knowledge the humans will earn will not only be reciprocated with their own, but also wisely chosen by us . It’s an exchange, Father. Our Elders have worked themselves to the bone to ensure the survival of our people, hence the Accords made after the Great War, but it is not enough anymore for many reasons.”

“Dragonborns don’t need more than that. All humans know is plundering, killing and war. I will not allow my grandson to—”

“You seem to forget that you are not part of the Council anymore since you have resigned and allowed me to take leadership in your place.” Dahee tilts her head up with poise. “You do not have a say in this matter.”

“What about me, then?” Taehyung shoots. All eyes turn on him.

“Is the race of your betrothed the only reason why you are so averse to this union?” Dahee fires back.

Taehyung can feel the ire radiating from his grandfather, scathing and growing. “As I said before, if my betrothed is a dragonborn, I have no problem with the marriage.”

“If so, we shall proceed with the wedding negotiations,” Dahee says with finality.

“This is madness!” Minsoo’s fist slams on the table. The cutlery and plates rattle together.

“What is madness is how measly, ancient, and bigoted your mind is.” Dahee’s eyes shift to those of her dragon counterpart in reflection to her father’s. “As dreadful and tragic as the Great War had been for dragonborns, remaining stuck in this old age segregation will serve us or humans no good in the long run.” She rises to lean forward on her hands and look down at her father. “Allowing humans inside the Council will grant us more land to hunt and live on. Expansion . It’ll give us access to their science, medicine, influence and more. Possibly including their warlocks. All that dragonborns need in order to survive and thrive toward a prolific future.”

Exhausted by the winded argument, Taehyung drags a palm down his face with a deep sigh. “I understand what you aim to achieve, Mother, but it remains incredibly hazardous. It could backfire at any moment.”

“And perhaps it will, but you cannot know that.” Dahee straightens up and brushes the front of the dress shirt soiled with smudges of dirt. “Nonetheless, nothing is set in stone yet. A meeting is arranged with the Jeon family. In the meantime, I would like to speak with my son only. ”

“Of course, Darling,” Junhyun says. 

“Spineless,” Minsoo snips with a scornful peep at Junhyun.

“And belly full. I refuse to argue with a full belly,” Junhyun deflects.

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung peers up at his mother. Catching onto the underlying request, he leaves the table as she does and trails behind her. The two of them make their way to the door. Dahee pries it open, allowing her son to pass by the threshold first.

“I’m sorry,” Dahee says once out of earshot from Junhyun and Minsoo. “I do not mean to be so persistent.”

“Do you not?” The quip earns Taehyung a playful slap on the arm.

Dahee grows silent as she curls a hand around Taehyung’s left arm, guiding him throughout a series of corridors. Taehyung has an inkling that more is to be shared. His expectations turn into confusion when they halt in front of the basement’s door.

“Are you truly opposed to the idea of marrying the Jeon family’s son?”

Taehyung’s cheeks puff around a huff of air.

He has never been against the concept of arranged marriage, a rare affair that can sporadically happen between dragonborns, and that he knows to be common in human lands. Taehyung had never envisioned finding a mate to begin with. This kind of love does not matter to him, but he has standards, so to say. One, more specifically, that will not be met if he proceeds with his family’s association with the Jeon’s.

“I don’t trust humans,” Taehyung chooses to answer.

“I know, Son, but we should learn to.”

They climb down the stairs, the basement’s walls and grounds made of rocks that Taehyung’s slippers grate against.

“They’ll turn against us. They always find a way and reason to,” Taehyung adds as they advance deeper and walk through a series of corridors. “Plus they largely outnumber us and have access to weapons able to take dragons down, including warlocks.”

“However they won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because they haven’t hurt us for centuries.”

“That’s… That’s naïve thinking.”

“Perhaps,” Dahee concedes with a small smile, “but we need their help as much as they need ours.”

“We don’t need humans’ or warlocks’ help.” When Taehyung is met with the disappearance of his mother’s smile, replaced instead by pinched lips and a glaze in her eyes, he immediately understands that more to be said. “Mom, what aren’t you telling me?”

“There is a concern of high importance you must know, one that the Elders have allowed me to share with you only.”

“Why only me?”

“I’m not entirely sure."

Taehyung studies the familiar heavy door they have paused in front of.

It’s one that he has seen a few times in his childhood when he would launch himself into a journey in the basement, or a game of hide and seek with his grandfather and Jimin.

Taehyung has never seen this door opened in the past. 

When he had been young, he had conjured plethora of theories as to what it may withhold: heaps of gems, spell books or other arcanic trinkets, and he had wondered if perhaps some ancient dragon eggs dating millions of years ago were kept hidden as well. But Taehyung had grown, and with it the memory of this door had vanished. Up till now, where he’s confronted with those same queries once more.

“The concern resides in our land and has been relocated under our property, so to speak, due to our family presiding over Vanae,” Dahee resumes. “You are to become Vanae's leader too, so they must judge it wise to inform you about this matter. However I believe these reasons pale in comparison to what the Oracle must have seen, whatever it may be."

“ The Oracle?” Taehyung echoes with surprise.

The Oracle is the most ancient dragonborn known to dragons and humankind alike. Taehyung has heard legend after legend about them; how they had predicted diseases, catastrophes, wars and other ailments; so his curiosity swells at the mention of this mythical being.

Dahee nods in affirmation. “They were the one to instruct me to keep what you will see next a secret, and to keep it safe in our basement. Only them, the Elders, and I, are aware of what lies beyond this door.”

“How do you—”

Dahee produces a flame on her index finger, the fire flickering at the faint gust of wind seeping through the space around the door’s hinges. Then, and with an assurance honed by years, she burns a trail of strange letters into the wood of the door, one after another, soon forming a circle of characters. Runes . Draconic and ancient ones.

The door opens, and what Taehyung sees next does not come close to what his imagination had envisioned.

“Well...” Taehyung peers ahead, bemused. “Lo' and behold, another tunnel. I was expecting something a little more exciting with the secrecy surrounding this door.”

“Son.” Dahee frowns. “Levity has no place in this matter.”

“And what is this matter, exactly?” Taehyung holds onto the torch his mother hands him and allows her to ignite the cloth surrounding the tip doused in oil. “You make it sound like a cataclysm is about to happen."

Dahee tugs Taehyung forward. “May as well.” 

“That’s not worrying at all…”

The tunnel, unlike the previous ones of the basement area, doesn’t seem man-made nor altered in any sort of way. The walls are rough and jagged, eroded by time, however still somewhat well preserved on their own where Taehyung isn’t afraid of the ceiling collapsing on itself and burying him to death.

The scent of stale and humid air suffuses Taehyung’s nostrils that wrinkle when a drop falls on him. “Even the Council doesn’t know about this?”

“No. The Elders had found it wiser to keep it hushed from them.”

“And for how long whatever I’m about to see has been occurring?”

“A while,” Dahee elusively answers. “It’s punctual, for lack of a better term. It follows a pattern, one that we have yet to unearth the origin of.”

They reach a flight of stony stairs bringing them deeper underground and in an umpteenth corridor. Taehyung is thankful for his draconic blood that runs hot, making it easier to brush off the growing chilling atmosphere, the torch’s flame not enough to warm the area.

The tunnel widens. It must be the last one before Taehyung and his mother arrive at their destination because Dahee takes the torch away from Taehyung’s grasp to slot it in an iron ring attached to the wall.

Two double doors are facing them, wide and impossibly high. It wouldn’t be enough for Taehyung to pass through them in his dragon form, however smaller dragonborns would, like his mother.

“What you will see next must stay between us, Taehyung.” Dahee turns her head to bore her gaze into her son’s. “Under no circumstances should you share what is behind. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Dahee bobs her head, satisfied with the answer. Then, and after motioning for Taehyung to help her, the two of them push open the double doors, this time the gate freed from any seal or runes.

A billow of foul air rustles their garments and hair.

The stench is distinct and peculiar, one that Taehyung has experienced in the past but cannot for the life of him pinpoint from where. It’s pungent enough for him to raise an arm to his face but it’s pointless, the odor soon clinging onto Taehyung’s senses and clothes.

“By the Elders.”

Unlike Taehyung, Dahee appears unfazed as she walks past the doors. “You get used to it, as grim as it may be.”

Taehyung follows his mother while mapping out the place. “What the fuck is that stench?” 

Dahee’s mouth parts around a cone of fire aimed at the ceiling, the latter stretching so far up that it seems endless. Lanterns — hanging from chains wedged between fissures, fastened on ragged walls or stalactites — burst to life, the fire piercing through the opaque, navy veil.

The cave is half brightened up now, and is absolutely immense .

Taehyung can’t see the other side of it that is plunged in pitch black. Dahee’s fire breath has only lightened up the lanterns up to the center — or what Taehyung believes to be the center. Taehyung and Dahee are situated on the edge of a tall cliff. The ground, from the bits perceivable, is occupied by smaller hills and craters as well as some unnatural formations of rocks.

Something is odd about the latter, however.

Off.

The structures and shape of some rocks are strange. Taehyung can’t fully decipher what they are from there. The cave’s bottom is partially swallowed by an obscurity that the lanterns on the ceiling can’t fight off, however some materials pick up the light, reflecting it in haphazard speckles.

“I don’t understand.” Taehyung's head twists toward his mother.

Dahee steps to the edge of the cliff. Her wings spring out of her back, rustling in the air. “Watch, and fall.”

Taehyung studies the cave once more and his confusion worsens: he can't determine where the foul stench comes from, nor why everything resembles familiar yet hard to decipher silhouettes. 

His lips part open around a shaky breath. He lifts a hand. He visualizes in his mind this imaginary roulette in the pool of his arcane: an intangible wheel that churns in his head. It spirals as an arrow rotates with it and both of their speeds slow down. Then, they come to a halt, the wheel immobile, the arrow settled on one of the seven segments.

The compound of his draconic arcane has done its selection, aided by Taehyung.

An orange flame, similar to his mother’s, envelops Taehyung’s hand right as he summons his wings, their sizes heavily diminished to accommodate his human form. He inches a foot off the edge of the cliff, and he lets himself topple down.

The rush of wind pushes Taehyung’s hair off his forehead. The flames wildly flicker around his fingers, and his eyes narrow as he soon gets a better view of the ground. His wings soften the fall, snapping up and down to keep him afloat until his feet touch the floor. Taehyung generates a larger fire as he thrusts his arm above his crown, the auburn hues casting a wide glow around him.

Taehyung stills. A freezing understanding begins to dawn on him but this cannot be. It wouldn’t make sense.

What he witnesses does not make any sliver of sense, and the rational part of his mind tries to deflect the view, to pretend that this ghastly sight isn’t what it seems to be.

The ‘rocks’ litter the ground, piling up in heaps here and there or haphazardly scattered around. Some of those rocks are elongated and round, others thin and sharp, a few snapped in the middle. All are adorned with lines made of silver, as though painted on the surface.

When Taehyung had first looked down upon his arrival here, he had noticed the shadow of a column half fused with the cave’s soil that he had presumed to have crumpled down at some point, as it is broken and carved in several places along the length. However the fractures are too orderly. Too regular. Where a crack can be seen exactly every three feet, or where the broken part isn’t so broken as it is simply protruding out of the main, long pillar. But the pillar isn’t one, nor is it made of rock. A shiver of pure fright wakes a flare of goosebumps on Taehyung's nape. 

It’s bone.

The column is a spine.

It’s surrounded by femurs, tibias and more and there are skulls near them, some deprived of their teeth and fangs. The bones are of different sizes, yet all originating from the same kind: dragonborn.

Dozens upon dozens of skeletons are entombed inside this horrifying coffin.

Taehyung startles when his back knocks against the wall of the cliff he was upon minutes ago, having not realized he had started to back away from the horror laid before him. 

“This is a graveyard,” Taehyung whispers to his mother when she lands beside him. “A graveyard of dragons . Why— Why is there a damned dragon cemetery beneath our home?”

“Dragonborns are dying, my son. Afflicted by a plague devoid of a cure.”

The tremors running through Taehyung are relentless. He curses under his breath. He dissipates his fire and presses his balled up hand against his mouth. “Mom, I can’t believe— Fuck.” He crouches then drops on the ground. Staring at the burial ground kept alight by the flames in his mother’s hands, he rasps “Tell me what you know.”

“The dragonborns were always found dead in their dragon form,” Dahee starts and settles next to Taehyung. “The sickness makes it seem like a natural cause of death at first glance, however one of the Elders, whose granddaughter had succumbed to the plague, had noticed something missing from the body when she had inspected it.”

“What?”

“The pouch of flame in her granddaughter’s chest. It had been emptied and reduced to silver dust, as though consumed by itself from the inside. It had been the same for other dragonborns, no matter what kind of breath they could produce, no matter the size or age of their breath pouch.”

“But dragonborns can survive without their breath pouch. If it’s at the core of the sickness, perhaps simply removing it can be a cure.”

Dahee grabs a hold of Taehyung’s hand. Taehyung squeezes it, seeking for a comfort and warmth that the cave is wrenching away the longer he remains here. 

“The removal of the breath pouch is a dangerous process, Taehyung. It is too risky, with a high mortality rate. Remember it was used as a way to incapacitate us during the Great War. Plus this sickness attacks every organ one by one. The Elders have noticed a pattern, and specifically the frequency of it.”

“How so?”

“The plague seems to be working like a… A heart. It has a major pulse every three months, then it vanishes from existence until the next pulse. It does kill here and there in between two pulses, close to the end and beginning of a pulse, but it only affects very few dragonborns. However it replicates this cycle, over and over.”

“A heart, you say. That is a strange comparison.”

“Perhaps. However it sends and takes something at every pulse, like a heart. It spreads the sickness and takes the lives of dragonborn. Never of humans, which is another curious aspect.”

“Do you think it’s sentient? Does it choose which dragonborn to kill?”

Dahee shakes her head. “It is aimless when it comes to which dragonborn, but it is definite in what it corrodes. We've attempted to unravel the intricacies of this plague, why it only attacks dragonborns, why it occurs at every change of season, why it focuses on the organs and most importantly the breath pouch.”

“But you found nothing,” Taehyung concludes, confirmed by a nod from his mother. “So there’s this plague killing our people, no cure has been created, neither have you discovered its origin, yet no one else knows about it? No one ever noticed?”

“The plague does not kill many, thankfully, and as I said, it can be easily mistaken as a natural death. Our seer Elder is the reason why we can locate those dragonborns and bring some of them here if they had no family.”

“But this sickness is arcanic, isn’t it?” Contempt coats the rasp of Taehyung's voice, his upper lip curling around a snarl. “It’s born from the Arcane. It kills dragonborns only. The origin of it couldn’t be more evident if it hit me in the fucking face. And it has.” His gaze shifts on the display of bones and dragon skeletons.

“It isn’t that simple, Taehyung. No mere human, warlock or dragon has ever been capable of creating something like this. The potent power of this plague is from an unprecedented arcane.”

“Still. You must admit that the identity of this plague’s instigators circles back to humans, as most ailments happening to dragonborns do,” Taehyung derides and he doesn’t want to disrespect his mother, but her lack of suspicions toward humans and warlocks is nonsensical. “Dragonborns are dying. Again . And amidst this clusterfuck, some future leaders that will be part of the Council must consort with the people that may be at the center of our second almost extinction. It’s foolish to allow them in our midst, Mother.”

“Is it if it grants us warlocks’ arcane and knowledge?”

“That is assuming they’ll be willing to help us, which is once more overly hopeful.”

“Then what do you suggest, you who seem to have all the answers? You speak as though we have not tried to find every possible cure for the past years since we've identified this plague. But we have, Taehyung. We did and are doing everything in our power to—”

“Why not tell the rest of us?”

“It is our next goal. To warn dragonborns and humans both. We wanted to collect as much information as possible and entirely innocent warlocks before that. This sickness is not something we can disclose recklessly lest it incites terror and psychosis among our peers, which could very well lead to our extinction then . I know some dragonborns who share the same sentiments toward humans as you do, and if they were to hear about this plague, they would without an ounce of hesitation immediately start a war against humankind. We cannot afford that. Not again.”

Dahee’s voice wavers and falls quiet toward the end.

The guilt swallows Taehyung as rapidly as he laces his fingers with hers. “I’m sorry. Everything is— It’s a lot to digest.”

“I know, my son.” Dahee cups Taehyung’s cheek. She softly pats it before letting go. “I didn’t mean to spring all of this on you at once. I wanted to wait after the wedding, if it were to happen, however the Elders insisted upon you being made aware of this matter.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. They had caught wind of your potential wedding with the Jeon boy, and I had been summoned to discuss this with them.”

Taehyung makes an incredulous, noncommittal noise at the back of his throat, his eyes narrowly. “The Elders not only know but also care about this wedding? Why would they give any attention to an unimportant marriage?”

“That I do not know,” Dahee shrugs. “All they said is that a ‘fruit may be reaped’.”

“From me possibly marrying the human son?”

“It seems so.”

“Sounds like a damned, bitter fruit. I wonder what seed was sowed in their mind, then.”

“I have no idea what it could be, but it convinced me greatly.”

Taehyung understands that the Elders and the Oracle are all encompassing beings; ancient dragons that have seen many wars, peaces and times. He usually would never doubt them — no dragonborn would dare —, however he questions the truth of the Elders for the first time, if perhaps they may have misinterpreted what they have seen.

“What about Jeon's son? Why him?”

“Jungkook has caught my attention during one of my visits.” The gravity that had taken over Dahee faintly loosens up, her form relaxing. “There is something peculiar about this boy, and the Elders seemed to agree with my assessment.”

“Peculiar? What is?”

“His mind, among other things I can’t pinpoint. I only got the chance to chat with him once, unfortunately under the distant supervision of his parents. However this single discussion was enough to pique my curiosity.” Dahee's smile grows as she stands on her feet. “He seems sharp, although hidden behind this facade of compliance. He would do great as a leader with you. He would balance your tendencies to be brazen and impulsive.”

Taehyung swats the arm his mother extends to rise on his own instead. “Thanks, Mom,” he says with playful offense.

“You can be too reckless sometimes, Son," Dahee chuckles. "I believe Jungkook could temperate you.”

Taehyung doesn’t argue in spite of how much he wants to. He’s tired and desires nothing more than to leave this horrid cave.

“I know you may not trust me on this, but the marriage will strengthen our relationships with humans and warlocks, as well as give us assets that aren’t negligible.” Dahee's wings spread behind her and she begins to fly along the side of the cliff, Taehyung joining her.

“Assets to help us against the plague.”

“Yes. Humans and warlocks trust each other, and if this trust extends to us due to the upcoming weddings, warlocks will then be more inclined to help us elucidate the cause of the plague.”

It makes sense , Taehyung thinks, but he still isn’t fond of the idea of humans being an active part of the Council. 

“When is the next pulse?”

“In around 90 days. When winter will leave place for spring.”

“So we have a little over three months to somehow trust warlocks and humans, and then hopefully gain their aid.” Taehyung lands on top of the cliff, his wings disappearing. “It’s a short time frame. Not telling anyone makes it harder to find a solution, but the opposite is also risky for reasons you mentioned earlier. It all sounds too precarious."

“Prices and gambles must be given to move forward.”

“Except humans could make us trip on the path,” Taehyung remarks. His eyes narrow at the amused expression that Dahee schools a tad too late for Taehyung to miss it. “You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?”

“While I am not ‘having fun’ with the death of our people,” Dahee quotes and taps her upper lip to fruitlessly conceal her smile, “I do like the prospect of allying with the Jeon family. I enjoy infuriating the Queen without her realizing it is done purposefully. You will see that it is quite entertaining.”

Taehyung emits a fond chuckle. “I’m sure I will.” 

“It will also be interesting to watch how you act around this boy."

“Huh? I won’t act like anything.”

“We shall see. Jungkook’s beauty is one I have rarely seen before. Aside from you and I,” Dahee adds with a wink and loops her arm around Taehyung’s. “He’s beautiful. Impossibly beautiful.”

“What's that gotta do with anything? Plus he’s human, he's ugly by definition.” Taehyung doesn’t really mean this childish jab, but the offended look on his mother’s face is, as expected, hilarious.

“Taehyung!” Dahee smacks his chest. “I've raised you better than that.”

“Too bad Minsoo has been dismantling it all.”

“Nonetheless, you’ll be fine if you accept to wed Jungkook.”

“And what if I refuse?”

Dahee stops and turns to face Taehyung. “Then I’ll cancel it. You always have a choice, my son, no matter how I may have made it seem otherwise. All I ask of you is to give it some proper and unbiased thoughts, unlike you have thus far.”

Taehyung heaves a sigh, shoulders slumping. “I’m not saying that I’m accepting, but I’ll ponder over this. Properly.”

Dahee grins and pulls Taehyung into an embrace that he reciprocates. “I love you, my son.”

“I love you too,” Taehyung mumbles. However, unable to keep at bay his last shred of irascibility, he adds “I reserve myself the right to be indefinitely obnoxious.”

Dahee bursts into laughter. She releases Taehyung to swivel around, her long, brown hair held in a ponytail nearly smacking Taehyung on the way. “Now, if you were anything but yourself, I would be disappointed."

“Are you implying that I’m always obnoxious?”

“I would never speak ill of my own kin.”

Taehyung peers inside the cave. He draws a final swipe of his gaze on the dragonborn graveyard, before he tucks the memory somewhere at the forefront of his mind, however far away enough to hopefully not elicit any additional nightmare.

Taehyung catches up to his mother. There’s a jitter in his steps that prompts him to walk faster, as though being in the mere presence of skeletons of those that have died from the plague could infect him as well. 

“Has the son agreed to the wedding?”

Dahee, as if sensing Taehyung's discomfort, says “You and our people are safe until the next pulse, Son. Only very, very few will succumb to the plague until the next pulse.”

“But in 90 days some of us will die in a large batch if we don’t find a cure or create some sort of safe spot against the plague.” Taehyung brings the double doors shut. They close in a heavy thud that resounds between his ears, and his unease only alleviates the more space and barriers there are between himself and the cemetery.

“Time is of the essence, yes, which is why we have been proceeding quickly with the marriages. With your accord, we shall see through yours.”

“What about the Jeon son’s accord?”

“As far as I have heard from himself and his parents, he is not opposed to it.”

“Of course he wouldn’t be. Elders know they would gain a lot from this marriage, starting with a spot at the Council,” Taehyung grumbles. “You mentioned a meeting with them. When will it be?”

“This upcoming Saturday night.”

Taehyung freezes. He can only gape at his mother.

“That’s in less than a week!”

Dahee has the audacity to giggle, undoubtedly entertained by this prospect as she sashays down the tunnel.

“Taehyung?! Are you ready?!”

“Yes!”

Taehyung trudges out of his bedroom in unhurried steps, making his way through the corridors. He descends the staircase where his parents wait for him at the bottom.

“Shall we use a cart?”

“How about a flight for you and Taehyung, darling? It would be much faster, and I could tag along on your back.”

“Let us fly there, then. I’m sure Taehyung wouldn’t mind.”

“Son!” Junhyun's boisterous excitement at the outing is one that Taehyung does not share, the older man dressed in an obscure, sage suit adorned with some of his own dragon scales at the shoulders. “You look…”

“Informal,” Dahee supplies, hands on her hips. She is also wearing a suit, Taehyung notes. She's not fond of dresses and other garments as such that she finds both impractical and uncomfortable. 

Taehyung has only mustered a slight effort to make himself presentable to the Jeon family. 

He has opted for a tight fitting, burgundy linen shirt, the top buttons opened to reveal two golden chains, one closer to the neck and the other dangling against his chest. The shirt is tucked in a tapered pair of black pants, the latter decorated with a plethora of pockets on the side as well as some front and back. Taehyung has also finished the look with some equally black work boots and a rapid pass of comb in his raven, wavy strands.

The outfit is complemented with Taehyung’s favorite cloak to have on during the winter, the garment made out of wolf fur. Its collar is wide, wrapping around Taehyung’s shoulders and down his biceps. The cloak is long, the hem nearly dragging across the wooden planks as he fastens the cross of double belts over his chest.

Taehyung’s draconic heritage as well as the type of his arcane renders him much less sensitive to the cold, however this early winter has proven itself to be one of the most frigid, where he finds himself shivering once outside. 

“You look good, Son, but you could have dressed up a little more formally. We are meeting one of, if not the most important human imperial lineage.”

“Why should I?” Taehyung mutters. “My betrothed will rarely see me dressed in formal clothing. Might as well get him used to it if I marry him.”

“Petulant child,” Dahee says with a lighthearted laugh. “Oh I love this, actually.”

“Why the change of heart, Darling?” Junhyun guides his mate toward the exit door with a hand on her back, so Taehyung takes it upon himself to fasten the entrance door shut behind them.

“Because the Queen is a stickler for rules and etiquette. She’ll be appalled to see Taehyung’s casual ensemble.” Dahee’s chuckle turns into a sound that is more of a sly cackle and by the Elders . Taehyung will always be thankful to not have this devious woman as his enemy. “The look on her face will be priceless.”

“It will be a promising night, then. Perhaps we will have the chance to taste their wine again. It was divine the last time we did.”

“If not, we can task our son to steal some from their wine cellar,” Dahee whispers to her husband. A glint of interest gleams in Junhyun’s eyes.

“We have more than enough money to afford whatever refined bottle of wine the Jeon family makes,” Taehyung reprimands.

“Yes, but I do not like the Queen, and…borrowing from her would be a pleasing gift in return for the tolerance we have to exert in her presence."

“Elders know patience will be needed with her and the King."

“Mom. Dad.” Taehyung pinches the bridge of his nose. “We are not stealing from the Jeon family and starting a war over wine of all things, so can we please leave now and get this over with?”

“We were dallying, Taehyung."

“We’re not foolish enough to steal from Amaris' Queen and King, in spite of our dislike for them,” Junhyun confirms. “But it does sound charming, doesn’t it?" He promptly backtracks. "I can already envision the look on the King’s face. Do you think his everlasting frown can deepen more if possible?”

“Shall we test it out? He abhors being opposed to, maybe we could…”

Taehyung ignores the rest of the conversation — scheming, really — in favor of changing to his dragon counterpart.

Another aspect that Taehyung loves about it is the lack of shredded clothes that the transformation saves him from. He doesn’t know why dragonborns’ arcane and physiology works this way, however the shifting from human to dragon and vise versa has no impact on anything he may be wearing while in his human form.

Taehyung shakes himself and raises on his talons. His elongated and acute claws dig into the soil, his size now allowing him to see above the tree lines. His mother’s dragon is slender, the scales of a light auburn color. She is much smaller than Taehyung or her mate, yet equipped with stronger muscles that ripple under her skin as she lowers on the ground.

Taehyung himself in terms of width, length and weight is part of the rare breeds of gargantuan dragonborns towering over most dragons. However he still pales in comparison to his father. Junhyun is downright colossal, nearly twice the size of Taehyung and the largest dragon in Vanae, and perhaps even in Aurora.

“I’ll ride on your mother’s back for the trip to Amaris, Son,” Junhyun says, to Taehyung’s relief. Junhyun may be impressive in his dragon self, and it is reflected in how slow and rapidly exhausted of a flier he is.

Taehyung turns his forelimb, palm facing the sky to let his father climb on it. Seconds later, Junhyun steps down to sit crossed legs on Dahee’s nape, his position secured with practice eased by the tall spike he leans against.

Without any further ado, and with an ‘En route!’ shouted by Junhyun; Taehyung’s and Dahee’s wings sweep through the air, and the family flies off toward Amaris, the capital of the Jeon dynasty.

The flight is peaceful and elapses without a hitch, except for those few times where Dahee, prompted by Junhyun, decides to do some tricks in the sky, one of them involving a laughing Junhyun who falls from her back when she turns upside down amidst an arch.

Taehyung loves his parents.

He truly does.

But he takes some distance from them and their embarrassing aerobatic maneuvers when a thunder of dragons passes by them and throws a perplexed look at the human happily tumbling down the sky through a ring of fire.

A few hours trickle by before Taehyung finally perceives the outskirts of Amaris in the horizon.

There's a knot in his chest that coalesces with the irritation lingering in him. What does not help his sour mood and meager patience is how deprived of sleep he has been for the past week, his nights and days tormented by the constant reminders of the dragon graveyard under his home. Flying helps, however. It always has.

His mother and him are hovering above the canopy, still low enough to glimpse at the city that endlessly stretches under them.

A wave of dread emanates from Amaris' inhabitants and reeks Taehyung's senses. He can easily assume that these humans aren't used to seeing dragons pass over them. After all, dragonborns prefer to remain inside the borders of their own lands, in territories kept away from humankind.

Nonetheless, the humans must have been warned about Taehyung and his family’s arrival because only a few scamper inside their home, the rest continuing with their cautious examination of the occupied sky.

Choosing to disregard the people, Taehyung slows down his pace to scout the city. He further decreases his speed to enjoy what is left of his peace before the meeting — confrontation, his mind supplies — with the Jeon family.

A soft growl grabs Taehyung’s attention, and he peers ahead at his mother who angles toward a castle situated on a hill at the north of Amaris, overlooking the rest of the city.

Taehyung speeds up when Dahee and Junhyun vanish from his view as they descend. His wings billow him near the citadel. Five tiny spots stand close to the set of stairs and platform leading to the castle’s entrance doors. There’s a garden as well, of intricate shapes, colorful floral compositions and perfectly trimmed hedges that Taehyung has to admit to find elegant.

With one last internal sigh, a prayer to the Elders, and the thought that he will at least enjoy a midnight flight when he will go back home, Taehyung dives.

He lands with a gust of air and dust on the avenue of beige cobblestones. An immature satisfaction flares within him when his claws dislodge the well crafted path, bits of soil meddling with the stones. His tail unravels and snaps behind him while he looks down in every meaning of the word at the Jeon family.

They seem so measly and insignificant like this, as the King and Queen peer back at him with their chin held high in palpable conceit.

It would be so easy, Taehyung thinks with disdain.

The talon of one of his forelimbs could so effortlessly squash those imperious humans, and while Taehyung is not a homicidal man per se, he cannot rein in the thoughts that flicker in his head at the remembrance of all the suffering and death the Jeon dynasty and other humans have inflicted upon dragonborns. It’s only at Dahee’s warning glare that Taehyung reverts in a rustle of fabric. The faux fur cloak drapes over his shoulders as he walks forward, hands tucked in trousers’ pockets.

Taehyung’s gaze immediately settles on a young man standing still behind those he presumes to be the King and Queen.

The son, Taehyung summarizes.

Taehyung doesn’t know what he had been anticipating regarding the appearance of his suitor. However, objectively speaking, and just as Dahee had said, the Jeon’s family heir is beautiful, which infuriates Taehyung for reasons he cannot name.

The son’s features have fine angles, what with the angular jawline, arrays of golden earrings, or the piercing gaze aimed at the ground. They’re sharpened by the short raven hair neatly slicked back on the right, while the bang is parted to the side and reaches just under the eye. Yet, the edges of the man’s face are unexpectedly softened by the round eyes and button nose, as well as the sparse beauty marks dotting his skin.

The Prince looks exactly like one in the navy, nearly black suit he’s wearing that clashes against the necklace holding a ruby pendant. His head lifts as his parents and Taehyung’s exchange their greetings, and the detachment that sticks to the Prince’s figure fleetingly dissipates.

It happens shortly, briefly to a point where Taehyung would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring at the man, however there is an evident shock that washes across the Prince’s face when his eyes meet Taehyung’s for the first time. Taehyung can’t tell if it’s positive or negative, and he frankly does not care enough to give the question any more thought.

“Queen Seohyung, King Sungmin, a pleasure to be in your company tonight,” Dahee says with a hospitality Taehyung knows to be fabricated.

“A pleasure as well,” the Queen echoes with mirrored diplomacy.

What Taehyung cares about, on the other hand, is the way the Prince isn’t averting his attention from him. The son’s gaze darts across Taehyung’s face and figure, most likely to assessing him and his worth.

It irritates Taehyung.

He wants to utter a ‘The fuck are you looking at?’ , or maybe an Oh so childish and silly ‘Want to paint my picture?’ just to hear what the Prince would answer. Would he look away in shame and fold back in on himself as he had been mere seconds ago? Or would he bite back with a retort of his own?

Perhaps a bit of both.

Taehyung bristles when the human still maintains his scrutiny, the stare now holding a quiet challenge in it that Taehyung refuses to be defeated by. His upper lip twitches with the repressed urge to snarl, and he’s left to wonder again why he has ever agreed to this charade of a marriage.

When their parents bow to each other, the Prince promptly follows suit and breaks the tension that had flared up. Taehyung remains immobile. Hell would freeze over before he bows to humans.

“Meet our son, Kim Taehyung, future leader of Vanae, and member of the Council,” Dahee introduces and she grabs Taehyung by the sleeve to drag him to her side.

“A pleasure to meet you, Taehyung.” Seohyung smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Likewise.” While Taehyung does not blatantly antagonize them, he also makes no effort to present an amicable facade. Plus he’s busy fighting off the hilarity that rises in him at the evident displeasure in the Queen and King's eyes at his casual wear.

“Shall we drop formalities? Our families are to possibly unite, after all,” Junhyun proposes.

The Queen and King promptly agree. “We shall.”

“Let us head inside,” Sungmin says and turns around. “It is too cold to meander outside.”

“Beautiful garden as always,” Dahee starts, well in her element. “I see you have changed your floral arrangement.”

“I found it appropriate to follow our gardener’s advice and deviate to winter resistant flowers for our home. Otherwise our previous flora would have met an unfortunate end and been of no use for decorum.”

Taehyung tunes them out.

The King and Junhyun are at the head of the group, conversing together about matters Taehyung does not try to pry on. Dahee and the Queen are behind their respective husbands, the two engrossed in a banal exchange of niceties while Taehyung is at the back of the group.

The Prince, at Taehyung's left from a safe distance, is carrying the same unreadable expression, made eerie by his muteness. Something about him bothers Taehyung, aside from the fact that he appears as aloof as Taehyung has been and feels. The Prince makes no attempt to socialize with Taehyung’s parents or his own, except for the small curve of his mouth when Dahee tilts her head toward him.

Taehyung seizes his 'opponent' with darts of his glare that flit across the Prince's surprisingly fit figure. His eyes narrow when his gaze collides with the man's. The son, to Taehyung’s ire, quirks a brow and deadpans Taehyung in a way that can only be deemed as irked.

So the Prince has some backbone to himself. 

An attitude , really, oozing of arrogance and malice or worse, and perhaps Taehyung is imagining it all in his head but there has to be some truth in it. Taehyung wisely chooses to ignore the man, but he has to bite down on his tongue to refrain himself from spitting out a remark full of vitriol. He still pays heed to the nagging whispers at the back of his head telling him to exert caution when it comes to the cryptic prince.

 “We may immediately settle in the dining room. Our fare for the night is awaiting us,” Sungmin announces.

Now…

Taehyung and his parents are well renowned, one of the most important families of dragonborns in Aurora. They’re wealthy, to put it in other words, however compared to the display that unfolds before Taehyung as they enter the citadel, Taehyung’s family looks destitute.

Everything expresses affluence and riches. The interior is not decorated in a manner to please one’s artistry, but rather to flaunt one’s money in anyone’s face.

It’s of poor, ostentatious taste.

Chandeliers of diamonds illuminate the area, large enough to instantly kill whoever may be underneath if they were to fall — Taehyung fleetingly considers it as the Queen and King pass beneath one. Vast paintings mounted with golden frames depicting scenes of colonization and dragon slaying; armors of silver and gold, and also what seem to be historical weapons like swords, crossbows and more; line the walls in a painstakingly crafted exhibit.

The display of wealth strikes one in the face whether they want it or not. A ‘Look at all we’ve achieved and gained through blood, murder and war!’ The allegory of Jeon history. After all, the pool of avarice is to humans what the pool of arcane is to dragonborns: nigh endless and rarely emptied.

Taehyung catches up to his father in two quick strides, and the remainder of the walk is brief.

They soon pass through the threshold of two candelabras and glass double doors opened to the lit dining area. The place, just like everything else in this castle, is unnecessarily huge for such meager and small-minded people: dozens of chairs are installed at the table, and soon three on each side are tugged away by servants.

Taehyung internally scoffs at how much time it takes the Jeon family to round the ridiculously long table. It must be thirty feet long.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Seohyung gestures to the seats facing her. “I believe this sitting arrangement will suit us best.”

“No need, thanks,” Taehyung mutters to the maid who makes an aborted motion to take away his cloak. He can very well undress himself and sit his ass on his own, and he does just that, unfastening the two criss-crossing belts against his chest.

“Some rest at last,” Dahee sighs. “This flight was taxing, mainly due to a mischievous person.”

“Hopefully your energy will be replenished after our fare,” Seohyung smiles. “If not, you are more than welcome to stay for the night.”

“I believe we will be fine. Our son can fly us back home if I am too fatigued for the return. He prefers the sky to the land.”

Taehyung emits a distracted noise of agreement, his gaze riveted on the man before him he scrutinizes every motion of.

The Prince lowers with poise and elegance, spine straight once installed and a leg crossed over the other, eons away from how Taehyung is used to dragonborns slumping down and loitering about in whatever awkward position they find most comfortable.

“How about some wine from our own vintage?” Sungmin proposes, met with an expectant compliance from Junhyun.

“It would be lovely,” Junhyun grins, mirrored by Dahee.

Footsteps echo in the dining room. Taehyung surveys the two servants who make their way toward the table, armed with a couple bottles of wine. 

A wave of restlessness suddenly bubbles underneath Taehyung’s skin.

He understands why when his gaze falls on the Prince who's already peering at him. Taehyung fully shrugs off his cloak and folds it over the back of his chair, all under the Prince’s attention. Even as Taehyung readjusts his shirt that had shifted during the walk, the Prince follows Taehyung’s movements.

The man’s eyes jump to Taehyung’s neck — probably to estimate the cost of the necklaces —, then they skim lower to the hint of displayed collarbones or the chest — Taehyung doesn’t really know —, but the Prince looks with an intent that, once more, Taehyung is left to guess the countenance of.

One of Taehyung’s eyes twitches.

He unceremoniously plops down. 

The Prince averts his gaze.

“Thank you,” Dahee and Junhyun both say after their glasses have been filled up. Taehyung notes the absence of similar politeness from the King and Queen toward their own maids.

“Would you like some wine, sir?” A servant asks.

Taehyung shakes his head. “Nah. Can I have some water instead, if it’s no bother?”

“Right away, sir,” the man nods and briskly strides away, skipping the Prince with the wine offer.

Taehyung slouches against the back of his seat, propping his forearms on the armrests in faux nonchalance. His combat boots drag across the marble floor to spread his legs and stretch his tense muscles that are already aching for another flight. The presence of the Jeon family facing his own is a constant reminder that he's surrounded by humans in an unfamiliar human land, and the uncomfortable cold sweat crawls up his spine into a repressed shiver. 

“What a delight,” Junhyun exclaims after another sip of his drink. “Exquisite wine.”

“My husband and I closely surveyed its conception.” Seohyung snaps her fingers, and like an owner commanding a pack of griffins, a flurry of maids enter the dining room. “Finish and bring our fare. Promptly. Bring us some iced water as well.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

Whatever nonexistent sliver of respect Taehyung may have had the will to muster for tonight scorches to nothingness at the sight. His parents themselves seem bothered by the Queen’s pedantic order, if the downturn of their lips is any indication.

Taehyung welcomes the distraction of a servant pouring water into his glass. When he speaks, his voice is lowered, ensuring that the Queen and King can’t hear him. “Say,” he starts and discreetly leans near the servant, “do you have some chocolate you can sneak to me? I think I’ll need the sweetness to counter the Queen’s acrid presence.”

The servant chuckles.

When the Queen glances their way, Taehyung conceals the servant’s sound with a cough.

“We have an assortment of syrup you may distill in your water, if you wish to,” the servant says, loud enough for those at the table to hear.

Taehyung meets the servant’s amused eyes. “Do you have a strawberry one? And what’s your name?”

“We do, sir. My name is Sohee. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“So am I.” For the first time today, Taehyung draws a genuine smile. “Is syrup a secret code for chocolate?”

“No. I will bring chocolate chips to you, however I believe its sweetness won’t suffice for the purposes you seek through them,” Sohee quietly jests, drawing a chuckle out of Taehyung. “I will be quick, sir.”

“No rush. Thank you, Sohee.” Taehyung's mood slightly improves. At least one human seems somewhat nice, even if he would never trust one ever again.

“Making new friends?”

Taehyung’s smile drops faster than the words can reach his ears. “I believe it is important to extend respect toward those working with, or rather for you, in your case.” His eyes don’t stray away from the Queen whose abjection at his kindness toward her workers marks her tight features. “It may come as a surprise to you, but a simple ‘thank you’ and ‘please’ can go a long way."

“Of course, that I agree with. However respect must be earned, akin to trust.”

Taehyung wants to throw a retort about how her agreement is rendered useless by the finger snaps plural that she uses to order her maids around, however he finds it more astute to not push the issue. For now.

“Happy to know we all seem to be in accord in this matter. The marriage, if it is to happen, will be a great show of mutual trust,” Dahee says, now regarding Taehyung with a merry understanding.

“It undeniably will,” Sungmin concurs in spite of the wariness that surrounds his every word and glance aimed at Taehyung.

What a slimy buffoon. Taehyung straightens up and props his elbows on the table, his hands raising to clasp over one another in an effort to hide the grimace that twists his mouth.

He peers at a point on the wall, and the rest of the waiting for the fare passes like that.

He doesn’t participate in the idle chat floating through the dining room, except for the instance where Sohee comes back with the syrup and pieces of chocolate that she leaves in a small pouch on the table. However the Queen tears Taehyung out of his internal meandering and munching of chocolate chips.

“Taehyung, we have not heard much from you.”

Taehyung's gaze slowly drifts on Seohyung. Similar to her son, something about the Queen ignites Taehyung’s instincts to stay away from the woman. The feeling is much darker than with the Prince, more cunning and abrasive. Where Taehyung is annoyed with the Prince and King’s masks of aloofness, he is unnerved by the one the Queen adorns.

“What would you like to know?”

“Anything that allows us to hear more of you. We were given limited personal information about you."

“I’m 26, for starters. While I’m not an official member of the Council, per se, I still participate in many of the reunions since I lead the hunting and exploring squadrons in Vanae.”

“Interesting,” Sungmin hums. “You must know your way in Aurora and neighboring islands.”

“I know my way everywhere. If not, I quickly learn to,” Taehyung adds.

“It would be quite beneficial for us. There are lands, caverns and other places we haven’t been able to explore due to our inability to fly."

Of course the line of questions all rotate back to how useful Taehyung and his family can be to them.

“Have you had other paramours or betrothed in your life?”

That is a query Taehyung had not expected to hear, let alone from the Queen. “No, I never have. I had no interest in that. Still don’t.”

“No improper offspring, then?”

“I’m gay,” Taehyung flatly declares.

“Good. So is our son,” Seohyung nods. “I suppose the integrity of our lineage will end with you both, but will hopefully extend through rigorously selected fostering.”

“Time will tell,” Taehyung shrugs.

“You don’t have any prospect of adopting an heir?” Sungmin asks.

“I never said that,” Taehyung rebuts. “I’m simply wondering if the heir you speak of will need to be exclusively human and non-dragonborn.”

“Well... That is a subject we can breach when the time comes,” Seohyung dismisses with a wave of her hand. “You don’t seem particularly happy about the wedding."

Taehyung ponders on whether to be brutally honest or lie. He ultimately opts on giving a half truth. “I’m a cautious man.” Somewhat. “However I trust my parents, and I hope the trust that will be awarded to your family will not be received with ill intentions.”

Annoyance flickers in the Queen and King’s eyes.

“I can assure you our ambitions are honest. We have the best interests in mind for our kingdom. And yours,” Sungmin says with a deliberate delay that he explains next, “given that our association comes to fruition.”

“And if not?”

“Then we will search for another suitor. Our son was to be married to a few other dragonborn leaders before you. Unfortunately, some difficulties had arisen with them.”

“Really?” Dahee probes. “With whom, if I may?” She asks the Prince but the latter doesn’t respond.

“Kim Changmin, Kang Sukwoo, Cha In-Pyo and Choi Seungwon, to name a few,” Sungmin lists.

Taehyung catches onto the pattern there, and so do his parents. The three of them exchange looks of incredulity for Taehyung, and of pure revolt for his parents.

“Choi Seungwon had been the last one we had attempted an union with before you,” Seohyung discloses.

Taehyung studies the Prince in the corner of his eyes.

The intangible mask the son had carefully crafted fissures, the crack visible through his head held low. It grants Taehyung a glimpse of the unadulterated scorn that overtakes the Prince’s face for a moment so abrupt that Taehyung thinks he has imagined it. 

“Isn’t Seungwon and every other dragonborn listed in their forties?” Taehyung questions the Prince, but when the latter slips on his veil of apathy and does not reply, Taehyung peers at the Queen.

“Late fifties, actually. Early sixties for Sukwoo. Seungwon is the youngest amidst the lot, in his mid forties," Junhyun intervenes. He is not the kind of man to be quick to anger, but even he can’t conceal the indignation from his timber.

Sensing the terse shift in the atmosphere, Seohyung smiles and pats the Prince's thigh under the table. “Our son knows the importance of his role as the heir of the Jeon dynasty. He is aware of the numerous advantages and the prosperity that being wedded to a rightful dragonborn will bring to the empire.”

“Right,” Taehyung chuckles through a derisive upturn of his mouth. “And you don’t find the idea of giving him up to men over twice his age abhorrent?”

“Taehyung,” Dahee warns.

“I personally find it quite repulsive at best, and horrifyingly immoral at worst. Aren’t you supposed to be parents before Amaris’ Queen and King? Unless your son’s happiness has no importance for you as long as yours is satiated, which is the most distasteful knowledge I’ve acquired about you both tonight.”

“Son. Enough.”

“Not only are those men twice the Prince’s age, but also awfully cruel in Seungwon’s case, and that's saying something since three out of the dragonborns you mentioned are despicable pigs. Was this selection purposefully done, perhaps?” Taehyung carries on, forgoing his parents' interventions. “While I understood years ago that humans can be incredibly vile and heartless, Seungwon is by far worse than most other humans I have met in my life, and Elders knows I have stumbled on really, really barbarous ones.”

“Taehyung.”

“It has me wondering, truly. If this is the best interest you have for your own kin, I’m curious to how it will translate for my people in the future.”

“Taehyung! This is en—”

“Seungwon had never shown any sign of this alleged harshness you speak of,” Seohyung counters — lies — and she looks amused by the veer in the tone of the conversation. It only serves to worsen Taehyung’s bubbling ire. “He had been kind and welcoming toward us and our son.”

“Oh please, you cannot be so naïve," Taehyung chuckles and reclines against his chair. “Seungwon’s reputation precedes him. A damn rat would know about it.”

“Perhaps your ‘rats’ were misinformed.”

“Or perhaps you've denied every word they may have narrated to your neglecting ears, even if it meant throwing him between Seungwon’s claws.” Taehyung jerks his head toward the Prince who is still not uttering a single word in spite of Taehyung's attempts to integrate him in the discussion.

Seohyung is chuckling, surprisingly. Sungmin is smiling as well, even if the edges of it are made acute by irritation.

“You seem to care a lot about our son’s well-being already, Taehyung,” Seohyung says. “It is reassuring to see.”

Taehyung pauses. 

His fingers tighten around the glass of water he grips onto.

The audacity of this fucking —

“Our son does care about yours indeed,” Dahee assures with a tight lip smile.

Taehyung would be caught dead before caring for a human again, but he makes no mention of it.

“As for the previous suitors we have met, they are no different than you, Taehyung,” Seohyung resumes. “You may share some similarities with Seungwon considering your… fiery temper.”

“Don’t be insulting. The age difference is an important distinction between this pig and I, among many others,” Taehyung says, falling right into Queen’s taunt without concern. Worst case scenario: they get offended enough to start a war, granting Taehyung the luxury of burning their pretentious asses to a crisp. Best case scenario: he gets to wipe off the parents’ stupid grins with a punch or two.

Either way, it would all end in Taehyung’s favor.

Temporarily.

“Marriages like these serve singular purposes that are not to be restricted by something as mundane as the age of those involved,” Seohyung carries on, her infuriating haughtiness returned. “If the participants are adults, and if the wish to marry is mutual and consensual; I, my husband, and son, see no issue with a few decades of disparity.”

“What has happened with Seungwon?” Junhyun inquires. “Knowing this man’s preferences, I can’t quite place why he would refuse your lovely son as his betrothed.”

Sungmin casts a disappointed look at the Prince who tenses. “Jungkook had brought shame upon us that day.”

Right.

Jungkook.

“He had been disobedient to his betrothed. When our son had been sent back to us at Seungwon’s request, the marriage had been called off. However Jungkook has been disciplined since then. He will be compliant to you. Seungwon had deemed it crucial to improve upon obedience and manners.”

Taehyung doesn't bother concealing his scorn and disgust from his voice when he rasps “Seungwon doesn’t wish to have a betrothed leading with him. Or doing anything he doesn’t demand, really. All he wants is a mindless doll he’ll keep by his feet to shape and brutalize to his whims." 

“What about what you want?”

“Unlike Seungwon, I don’t particularly get off on that kind of thing.” Taehyung revels in the faint snarl of aversion on the rulers’ face.

“Kim Taehyung.” Dahee lowly rumbles.

“That is another difference between him and I.” Taehyung's glower bores onto the Queen. “I’m not fond of forced compliance.”

“If you do not seek obedience from your betrothed, why are you so hostile toward anyone daring to oppose you?”

“I’m hostile toward the lack of honesty, not the opposition.” And also because the Queen is a fucking waste of air but that’s a subject Taehyung won’t touch on quite yet. “I don’t seek obedience.”

“Every leader should."

“No. A leader guides, accompanies and listens. A ruler, on the other hand, orders and offers no choice. You, Queen and King Jeon, are rulers. I’m a leader. Or rather soon to be leader." A silence settles in the room, only disturbed when Taehyung speaks once more. “Anything else you would like to know about what I desire?”

“No.” Venom drips through Seohyung's smile. “You have made yourself clear.”

“Nonetheless, Jungkook is a quiet man and will be devoted to you and the duties you see fit for him, Taehyung,” Sungmin says, who has clearly missed the entire point of Taehyung’s rant or decided to dismiss it altogether. “It is in his nature.”

Willingly in the Prince’s nature? Taehyung doubts it, and he’s about to say as much when he feels a hand on his knee. Dahee squeezes it once. Taehyung glances at her, and behind this thick curtain of approval that she feigns to aim at the Queen, there is an anger in her shaking hand, echoing with Taehyung’s.

The uncomfortable muteness that had stretched for what feels like hours is soon torn by the arrival of a dozen servants coming in with tonight's fare.

Taehyung — ever so stubborn — presses onto one of Sungmin's earlier comments. “Why reach out to us and not try with Seungwon if you have been ‘disciplined’ as Seungwon wanted?”

“Seungwon had felt too disrespected by Jungkook and—”

“I’m asking him,” Taehyung firmly interrupts Sungmin and tilts his glass toward Jungkook.

“That man had forcibly overstepped the boundaries that I had made crystal clear, and had paid a price for it in consequence,” Jungkook declares, his voice leveled. “I had rapidly realized that I would have been at the receiving end of his strictness if I were to stay with him.”

A hush of surprise floats in the room.

Taehyung’s gaze darts at the Prince. The servants’ motions falter before they resume their pace as they lay down plates of food and baskets of bread, refilling glasses of wine at the same time.

“What price?” Taehyung asks.

“Jungkook,” Sungmin warns, jaw set tight.

“What price?” Dahee pushes with a pointed look at the King.

Jungkook’s lips curl and it’s easy to tell that it’s a practiced smile, drawn over and over again. It knits the corners of his eyes but it isn’t trailed by any genuine joy, instead darkened by a ruthless satisfaction. It has the taut muscles of his jaw shifting beneath his skin, his right fist balled up around his cutlery.

“It isn’t import—”

“His left earlobe," Jungkook rasps. "I bit it off and spat it back at him.”

“Jungkook!”

Jungkook flinches and drops his head at lightning speed. The chopsticks rattle on the table when he lets go of them. He snatches a napkin, his hands flying out of view under the table. “My apologies, my kin—”

Taehyung and everyone in the dining room jolt at the rambunctious laughter that erupts out of Junhyun. The latter slams a palm on the table and his hilarity is echoed by Dahee who joins him with a pleased chuckle. Taehyung smiles as well, partially due to the puzzlement on the Queen and King’s face.

“My! I like this boy!"

“So do I.” Dahee presents a hand toward Jungkook. “Hello again, dear.”

Jungkook stares at the extended limb for a second before shaking it. “I’m... Hi?”

“Pleased to properly make your acquaintance,” Dahee says with a knowing smile.

“My deepest apologies for his rudeness." Seohyung's words are clipped, so painfully wrenched out of her mouth, that Taehyung has to press his lips into a thin line to quell down his laughter. “He is usually well-behaved.”

“Nonsense,” Junhyun disregards, standing to also shake hands with a bewildered Jungkook, the Prince’s eyes ever so slightly widened and eyebrows raised on his forehead.

“Indeed, Darling,” Dahee grins. “Dragonborns have no trouble with said ‘rudeness’. We appreciate it, contrary to forged appearances.”

Taehyung picks up his chopsticks, twirling one between his fingers. He rests his chin in the palm of his left hand and unabashedly stares at Jungkook.

The something that perplexes Taehyung is here anew. It’s the way Jungkook moves, Taehyung slowly begins to unravel. The Prince’s demeanor is demure at all times: chin lowered, shoulders slightly withdrawn in themselves, gaze avoidant, and when he does look at his interlocutors, it's done with a palpable coyness. 

Taehyung stills as he's hit by a belated revelation.

The Prince plays a role. 

He makes himself look small, for lack of a better term, but Taehyung sees beyond this.

Taehyung assumes that this impersonation is the result of a strict, perhaps abusive upbringing. But this isn’t enough. There’s another thing the Prince is keeping hushed, buried under this pretense of harmlessness and complacency. 

Eyes riveted on the Prince, Taehyung can catch onto the danger that Jungkook can represent. It’s enhanced by the earlobe tale and the shimmers of violent vindication that had gleamed in Jungkook’s eyes at the retelling.

Taehyung wishes that he could see through the wood of the table, or make himself invisible to hunch under it and verify if his observation had been a trick of the candles’ light or not. Thankfully, as if his request had been heard, the Prince’s hands find their place back around the cutlery.

A hum rumbles in Taehyung's chest, of prudence and curiosity.

There are crescents carved in Jungkook’s right palm. They’re pink and raw with leftover smudges of blood, faint enough to be imperceptible to a distracted eye, but Taehyung is anything but that at present. “Should I worry about losing an ear if we’re to marry?”

Jungkook’s gaze sharpens when it settles on Taehyung. He lolls his head to the side, and his biting stare pierces through the few strands of hair brushing his forehead. “You won’t if you keep your hands to yourself when I demand it.”

“Jungkook.” It’s Sungmin, waves of displeasure wafting off him. “We have spoken about this.”

The mask that had taken an acute edge is gone, replaced by the safety of submission. “My apologies, my king.”

“Well,” Dahee chirps, evidently entertained, “if this wedding goes through, it will surely prove itself to be a particular spectacle.”

“Let us begin our fare,” Seohyung says, encouraged by Junhyun. “Lest it grows any colder.”

Everyone at the table obliges.

The dinner elapses over the span of a couple hours. It is spent animatedly, the chit-chat kept alive by Taehyung’s parents and Jungkook’s. The food is good. Divine, even, and Taehyung finds some comfort in it, thinking that if the night is to veer into a literal bloody nightmare, he will at least have a belly full of a newly discovered meal.

Jungkook hasn’t spoken another word since his apology. Instead, it’s his parents who take it upon themselves to reply to the inquiries asked by Dahee and Junhyun. The Prince must be used to this because he distantly smiles and nods, but never provides more than that.

Taehyung is nonplussed by this dynamic. Dragonborns never cultivate this kind of excessively hierarchic relationships. There is a respect given by and to every dragonborn no matter their social rank, wealth and other criteria. They treat their peers with genuine kindness and care. Yet here with the Jeon family, everything feels fabricated, from the floor they walk on to every word their tongues curl around.

“Do give our compliments to the chef,” Junhyun sighs once their dessert is consumed. “It was one of the best meals I have ever gotten the chance to feast on.”

“Was it?” Dahee wonders with a playful frown.

“After yours, Darling."

Dahee pecks Junhyun’s cheek. Jungkook, along with the Queen and King, peer at the display of affection with surprise.

Taehyung discreetly rolls his eyes from where he’s loitering in his chair. He fiddles with the golden rings adorning his fingers as he watches the Queen and King converse with his parents. It's only when he feels a pair of eyes on him that his attention drifts on the Prince.

Jungkook is also leaning against the backrest of his chair, albeit more gracefully than Taehyung. The air of supremacy is worn once more. It grates on Taehyung's nerves.

“Taehyung,” Seohyung calls out, “your mother has mentioned in the past your disdain toward our kind, vehemently confirmed tonight.”

“Disdain is a mitigated way to put it."

“I’m afraid he hangs about in his grandfather’s lair too much. It influences him greatly,” Dahee laments.

“While your dislike for humankind is understandable and built on a complex history, I believe it is time for us to move past it and seal a proper peace anew,” Seohyung starts.

“Your family is one of the most eminent dragonborn ones, so is ours to humans and warlocks,” Sungmin carries on. “Our union, along with other marriages to occur between humans and dragonborns, will solidify the Accords that were signed centuries ago.”

“I still have some difficulties believing that it will,” Taehyung contests. “After all, the Jeon dynasty is the very one that had instigated the Great War, joined forces with other humans and warlocks, and had proceeded with the decimation of dragonborns.”

A billow of coldness rushes through the room. 

Seohyung’s and Sungmin’s veneer of amiability vanishes. However someone has to address the skeletons in the room, and Taehyung has always loved to be the one to do so.

“What happened during the Great War was regrettable, and I unfortunately cannot erase the past abominations my ancestors inflicted upon dragonborns.” The Queen’s speech is an evidently reenacted one, mechanical and emotionless. “However my family and kingdom are more than willing to amend for them. You have to accept that a token of trust must be given in order to receive one, Taehyung.”

“That I abide by,” Junhyun agrees. “Our families allying in spite of our history would be a great show of forgiveness. We will bring assets, influence and other exciting merits to each other.”

“An alliance is the first step toward an acceptance, a harmony between dragonkind and humankind, rather than a tentative tolerance,” Dahee adds. “This marriage will set an example and could be the start of a great friendship.”

“I concur,” Sungmin nods.

Seohyung mirrors him. “So do I and our son.”

“Do you?” The question launched by Dahee is directed at the Prince.

“Yes,” Jungkook answers. “I believe it is time for humans and dragonborns to grow. Together.”

“What about you, Taehyung?” Seohyung seems to enjoy egging him on because she says “Would you allow yourself to grow past your wrong beliefs toward humans?”

‘Wrong beliefs.’

Taehyung has heard humans refer to the Great War with the most inane terms to clean their hands of the blood they have shed, however referring to it as a ‘wrong belief’ is something else entirely.

“Perhaps,” Taehyung says.

“If your hesitation is partially due to Jungkook’s behavior, I can assure you that he will be a wonderful asset to your leadership. You will find him quite useful with economical, strategical or political acumen. However he'll be most valuable for social events and relationships he was trained to excel at, as he will also spur many envious gaze toward you that will be advantageous when the time to convince and charm a fellow leader will come.”

Taehyung stares, not even bothering to hide his disgust at how distasteful the last addition is. "My husband being my arm candy is more important than anything else?

“Once Jungkook has become your husband, he will be yours to employ and dictate as you see fit. Isn’t it right, Jungkook?” Sungmin’s eyes crinkle around a smile as he peers at his son, and Taehyung can feel a bile of repulsion crawl at the back of his throat when he imagines that Seungwon has probably heard this exact same speech. “What do you say, Taehyung? Would you perhaps like to spend an afternoon with Jungkook?”

All eyes skim on him.

“Time is of the essence, however,” Seohyung interjects. “We cannot afford to wait much longer before a decision has to be made.”

“If so, the assessment of the Prince and I’s compatibility prior to the wedding doesn’t matter,” Taehyung summarizes. “What mutual gain will this association provide?”

“We will cede part of our land to Vanae, as well as access to our libraries and warlocks, among other things we have discussed with your parents.”

Taehyung’s mouth parts open.

Warlocks are rare.

They commonly live in recluse, more specifically away from dragonborns that they fear, and away from humans that they distrust. Warlocks still maintain a better rapport with humans. The two often work together, as they had during the Great War, and this coalition had been the tipping point towards humans’ victory. However warlocks remain elusive and easily swayed, their loyalty given to whichever side seems more prone to win. So if Taehyung has a hard time trusting humans, it is even worse with warlocks.

“What about you?” Taehyung's eyes shift between Seohyung and Sungmin. “What do you gain in return?”

“A seat at the draconic Council as well as a percentage that has yet to be determined of the precious stones your people bring,” Sungmin replies. “We will also require the help of dragons to expand, fend off rivals and other potential threats if they are to arise.”

“Can your warlocks be trusted?”

“The two we detain, yes. One of them is a close friend of Jungkook. Any other questions?”

Detain? Taehyung thinks.

 “What about accommodations?” 

Taehyung's question takes aback both his parents and Jungkook's.

“Accommodations?”

“I am not leaving Vanae for Amaris," Taehyung snips.

Seohyung crosses her arms over her chest, lifting a hand to her chin as she pensively peers at Jungkook. “Arrangements could be made. You and Jungkook could reside between the borders of our lands, preferably closer to the citadel, so that we can easily keep in touch with Jungkook.”

Or rather control him, Taehyung mentally corrects.

“It would be frowned upon if you don’t live together."

“Jungkook could come move in with us in Vanae,” Dahee casually offers with a bright grin.

“ Hah?” Taehyung gapes at his mother. His home being invaded by the enemy is where he draws a li— No. A barricade of spikes and fire. "What?" Before he can voice out more of his denial, Dahee shushes him with a pinch on his knee.

The Queen herself stammers at the unexpected proposal. “I… I’m not sure it would be a wise idea.”

“Why not,” Junhyun exclaims. “While dragonborns are familiar with humankind’s history and accomplishments, the reverse cannot be said, isn’t it? If Jungkook lives in Vanae with us, it will grant him a direct insight into draconic politics, history, arcane and more,” he adds, and there is this glint of connivance in his gaze that Taehyung catches.

The hand on Taehyung’s knee tugs at the fabric of his pants. Once assured that he can peer down without arousing any suspicion, he does.

Tamed flames flicker at the tip of Dahee’s fingers, the fire shaping around letters.

‘This boy is not safe here.’

Taehyung’s jaw clenches. He darts a look at Jungkook’s parents, the latter discussing together.

“Plus it isn’t as though Jungkook would be a prisoner in our house,” Dahee resumes. “He would, of course, be more than welcome to visit you whenever he’d desire to. He is a free man, after all.”

For the first time tonight, an emotion that isn’t detachment or swift disdain blooms on the Prince’s face. Taehyung can’t really make out what it is, exactly, but Dahee appears to because she gently smiles at Jungkook.

“It could work,” Seohyung muses.

“Yes. Let us try,” Sungmin decides. “We will need to speak with Jungkook beforehand.”

“If Jungkook were to live in Vanae, he would be surrounded by your kind. Dragons,” Seohyung continues.

“Yes, and he would learn a lot from and about us."

“Would he be the only human there?”

“For the most part, yes. Vanae’s population is of dragonborns only aside from the occasional human visitors.”

Seohyung takes a sip of her wine, peering at the liquid that she twirls in the glass. “It goes without saying that nothing drastically unwarranted must happen to this union.”

“I can assure you that your son will be safe with us,” Junhyun says.

“It isn’t necessarily our son we are worried about. We know he will be well,” Sungmin clarifies like the piece of shit that he is. “But it is good to hear nonetheless.”

“I believe we all agree with those parameters for the time being?” Dahee's gaze drags across the table.

Sungmin’s eyes shoot toward Taehyung. “All except for one.”

Taehyung grits his teeth together.

He knows that he can refuse it, that his parents would not be upset or angered about his decision. His mind drifts away from the table. His vision glazes over as he recalls the graveyard under his home. Then he glances at the unreadable Prince.

Taehyung believes that his mother has caught onto the something about Jungkook. Or perhaps her apparent personal interest for him is due to the strained relationship between the Prince and his parents, Dahee’s impulse to protect and care then awakened. Taehyung does not share much of this concern. He’s still unsettled by the cracks he has seen in the Prince’s mask: a darkness in Jungkook that may unleash itself one day, and Taehyung does not know if it’ll be aimed at him, dragonborns, or the Queen and King.

“May I have some time to deliberate on it? It is a lifetime commitment, and I would like to confer with my parents,” Taehyung eventually settles on replying.

“A few days at most, but yes,” Seohyung agrees.

“Excellent.” Dahee smiles and turns toward Junhyun. “We should leave, Darling, before we overstay our welcome.”

“You can rest here for the night, if need be."

“That won’t be necessary, thank you. Tonight’s fare has revitalized me, and I’m sure the same can be said about Taehyung.”

“Yeah." One of Taehyung's knees jumping up and down as he picks at the skin of his thumb. The angsty restlessness at the prospect of finally flying flares up. 

“Are you ready to leave, Son?” Dahee asks, her eyes drifting between Taehyung and Jungkook. “Or is there another matter you wish to discuss?”

“I've heard everything I needed.”

Not waiting for any permission or cue, Taehyung's chair scrapes across the smooth marble tiles as he rises to his feet. Everyone else follows suit. He throws his cloak on and in the same movement, he retrieves the pouch of chocolate chips that he sneaks in an inner pocket. 

Eager to be out of this suffocating citadel that seems to be more of a fancy prison, he marches toward the dining room’s entrance doors.

“Thank you for the dinner, it was wonderful,” Dahee says once in the garden.

“Thank you for being here," Seohyung smiles. "The company has been unexpectedly amusing.”

Taehyung dips his head backward and admires the view. The night sky is full of stars, shining bright alongside the Moon. His lids fall shut, exhausted from the social outing, and he basks in the cold breeze that ruffles his hair, slowly sweeping away the tension from his shoulders.

Jungkook looks to be elsewhere when Taehyung glances at him, the Prince's gaze settled at a point on the outskirts of the garden and river surrounding the citadel.

“Jungkook, it was lovely to see you again.” Dahee steps near him and without any hesitation, she pulls Jungkook in a hug.

Dahee’s face is tucked against Jungkook's tense shoulders who tentatively returns the embrace. She must whisper something to him because a sudden glassiness springs in the Prince's eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

Jungkook discreetly nods.

Taehyung frowns.

“Likewise,” Jungkook says as he separates from Dahee, his expression schooled back to neutrality, but the shine in his gaze remains.

“Let us fly home, Son, lest I fall asleep mid flight.”

“If you do, I could fly you home, Darling. Although the stakes of me falling asleep then would be much higher, and I believe Taehyung wouldn’t be strong enough to carry me in my dragon form,” Junhyun muses.

“My dear, we would need a thunder to move you in your dragon self,” Dahee teases, earning herself a resounding smack on the rear as Junhyun bursts into a boisterous laughter.

Taehyung grunts a sigh.

“That is true, Darling.”

Dahee pats Junhyun's round belly. “I love you."

“And I you, Darling.”

”Have a great night, Queen Seohyung, King Sungmin,” Junhyun and Dahee both say with a brief bow. “Once more, thank you for your invitation to your beautiful abode.”

“The pleasure was ours,” Seohyung echoes, her lips curved into a tight, uncomfortable curl.

Taehyung internally cackles, suddenly happy about his parents’ shameless flirtations.

“Have a safe flight,” Jungkook says with a smile that seems genuine for once.

Taehyung wordlessly shifts to his dragon counterpart. He heaves a deep rumble of relief when his claws protract while his wings flutter, working out the kinks and incessant soreness in them. After some maneuvering, Junhyun finds his place on his wife’s nape. Dahee lifts off the ground first, remaining afloat as she waits for her son.

Before joining his mother in the sky, Taehyung peers down at the Prince.

Their gazes meet, one of scorn, and the other seeming more. Perhaps even curious. 

Taehyung huffs a puff of fire through his nostrils, a petulant gesture to punctuate his departure. He takes off and snorts a chuckle when a gust of dust is propelled toward the Queen and King, the two forced to cover their faces with their arms.

“His parents are revolting,” Taehyung announces when he storms inside his home, throwing his cloak on the coat hanger and removing his combat boots. “I can’t believe they considered Seungwon as a betrothed for their son. Seungwon? To this disgusting, sadistic pig? ” He drapes himself over his recliner, The Armchair, and by the Elders if it isn't eons more comfortable than the dining chairs at Jeon castle.

“From a pragmatic point of view, I can understand why Jungkook’s parents would choose him,” Dahee says. “They would have gained a lot from that wedding, and they obviously have no qualms in sending their son to any griffin’s den. They’re desperate, a reason why they also put up with your behavior.”

“They are so unbelievably despicable. Blew my mind this whole fucking night.”

“Because you are good, my son.”

“Do you really want to be associated with the Jeon family?” Taehyung wonders.

“I’d rather have it be us than someone else. Your father and I can handle Seohyung and Sungmin. Plus the Council has already given their approval.”

“The Council can go eat shi—”

Dahee gently smacks Taehyung’s forehead. “Son.”

“This is absolute nonsense. Of all human families the Council may want, they chose the Jeon?”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Junhyun affirms, an unusual severity stiffening his demeanor. “This is mainly what it is about. We don’t have much faith in the Jeon family’s loyalty, however they will grant us great benefits while we can keep a cautious eye on them.”

“But it also allows them to do the exact same thing on top of collecting information about us.”

“So will we about them. The Kang Family is engaging their daughter with a human heir as well, and it will continue forth with a couple more marriages.” Dahee perches herself on her husband’s lap. “It is time for us to forgive.”

“This is…” Taehyung trails off. His cheeks puff around a sigh.

“Son, you seem to have misheard me, so allow me to repeat myself. We will forgive,” Dahee begins and her timber is low, voice wavering with contained ire, “however we will never, ever forget what was done to us. All that humans have taken and stolen from us.”

“What did you say to him?” Taehyung blurts out, half to distract his mother from the upset he has awakened in her, half out of curiosity.

“How so?”

“The Prince. You whispered something to him.”

“He wants to run away from his parents, that much has been evident to your father and I over the course of our sparse visits.”

“Understandably so,” Junhyun mumbles, face etched into a glower. “They never allow him to express himself or speak his mind how he wants to. I hope the poor boy is alright and not being disciplined for his brief outburst of honesty tonight.”

“What did you exactly tell the Prince?” Taehyung pushes. He narrows his eyes at his mother when her mischievous gaze settles at a point away from Taehyung in faux innocence.

“Well.” Dahee pauses. For dramatic effect, Taehyung suspects. “I told him that if you were to deny the marriage, I would steal him from his parents. Kidnap him, if you will. Consensually and discreetly, of course.”

Taehyung blinks once, twice, and a third time, in case his mother is a mirage concocted by his lunatic mind. “Mother, have you finally gone mad?”

“Darling, you cannot kidnap the heir to the Jeon throne,” Junhyun chastises but it’s melted down by the fond smile that stretches his lips.

“As I said, it would be agreed upon. I want to help him. And I like him.”

“I don’t and jeopardizing the whole clan for one single human is mindless,” Taehyung counters.

“I've raised you better than this, Taehyung.”

“You've raised me to do everything in my power to protect my people.”

“I want to consider humans as our people as well. Not every human is bad, just like not every dragonborn is good. The world isn’t so cut in black and white.”

“Every human I've met was either greedy and cruel, or a megalomaniac unable to see further than the tip of their nose."

“We have similar kinds of pricks among dragonborns. You think too highly of yourself and our kind,” Dahee scolds. “We have taught you humbleness, not what behavior you’ve been exhibiting lately.”

Taehyung sighs. He's been doing so more often than not lately. “I know, I’m just—” He rubs a palm down his face. “I can’t bring myself to suddenly be fine with humans invading our lives that had been peaceful.”

“We know, Son."

“I don’t trust humans. I most certainly don’t trust the Jeon rulers and neither do I trust their son.”

“You could make some effort to—”

“Should I remind you of what happened to me the last time I tried to make an effort for a human? Because you seem to have forgotten about it. I haven’t. Every damn day and night the pain and nightmares mangle me. A constant reminder that I unfortunately can’t discard as easily as you have.”

Tremors ripple through Taehyung. His nails sink into his palms and he anchors on the stinging prickle to not let himself be swarmed by the memories harassing his mind. The ache on his back heightens, as though called forth. He rolls his shoulders to alleviate it.

“Humans humiliated me that day, and if it hadn't been for myself, the Elders and that one warlock who helped me, I—” Taehyung’s teeth clamp down on the inside of his cheek. Blood suffuses his tongue, his fists clenching and relaxing every few seconds. “They’ll backstab us, eventually. It’s only a matter of when, not if.”

“My son…” Dahee steps forward to crouch in front of Taehyung. She grabs a hold of his hands, coaxing the stiff fingers to come loose. “We know, Taehyung. We expect it to happen. But we will be ready when it does come. If it does, because I still hold onto some hope that people can change and be better.”

“What if it happens and we aren’t ready?”

“Then we will die defending what is ours. Our legacy,” Junhyun says as he pushes himself off the couch. Dahee hums in approval. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“We’re taking so many risks."

“We have to.” Dahee waits for Junhyun to be out of earshot to add “With the plague.”

“We should tell Dad. I don’t want to keep this secret from him.”

“I will speak to the Elders tomorrow, and then to your father. However your father is an intelligent man. I know he suspects that I am hiding something from him, but he trusts me.”

“Alright,” Taehyung concedes, too tired to argue any further, what semblance of energy he had left vanished.

“As for the wedding, if you truly do not wish to go through it, tell me. I will warn the Jeon family.”

“Here, Son,” Junhyun says and Taehyung looks up at his father who’s handing him a gauze doused with some liquid ointment. “For your palms.”

“Thank you.”

Dahee straightens up and finds her place perched on Junhyun’s legs again while Taehyung cleans the small specks of blood off his skin. His thoughts derail to the Prince, to the similar sight he had seen on Jungkook’s palms.

“What about the Prince?”

“What about him?”

“You want to help him.”

“Yes, as much as possible, and while I agree that we mustn’t underestimate him nor what he’s capable of, I have a good gut feeling about him.”

“Yeah, and the gut feeling is the one of him cleaving a dagger through your stomach."

Dahee produces a tiny ball of fire that she flings at Taehyung. The fireball faintly singes the front of Taehyung’s shirt and he pouts as he swipes the smudge of ashes. Feeling revengeful, he toggles through the roulette of his arcane that slots on an element. He forms a flimsy bolt of lightning that he fires at his mother.

“How dare you attack your own mother,” Dahee frowns and pokes the bolt that fizzles in the air.

“You started it,” Taehyung shrugs but regrets it when it tugs at the tightness in his skin. Then, he emits a long, drawn out grunt and sags in his seat. “I never dreamed of finding a good mate I like. You know I don’t care about any of that, but I had one standard: a dragonborn betrothed.”

“If you’re this adamant about it, perhaps you could build mechanical wings to attach on Jungkook’s back so that he can fly with you,” Dahee quips. Junhyun, who had dozed off, barks out a laughter.

“And then you wonder why I’m such a little shit,” Taehyung mumbles through pursed lips.

“Like mother, like son.” Dahee's chin juts up in pride.

Junhyun emits a happy sigh. “I love you both so, so dearly."

“I love you too, Darling.”

“Love you,” Taehyung slurs through a wide yawn.

“I feel for this boy,” Junhyun says.

“If the marriage happens, we will take him away from a potentially abusive home. That is also to take into account even if I know you don’t like Jungkook much,” Dahee addresses Taehyung.

“I despise his parents even more. They’re so… They made my skin crawl in the span of one meeting. The Queen is the worst. She gives me the heebie-jeebies. And there’s also something about the Prince.”

“You've noticed as well,” Dahee smiles.

“Hm? Noticed what?” Junhyun wonders, waking up enough to peep at his mate.

“I believe Jungkook holds a darkness in his heart that he carefully buries deep down. Or maybe it’s a penchant for... Hmm.” Dahee pauses, tapping her chin with her index. “For chaos? Perhaps? However only if provoked and warranted. Like the wonderful earlobe tale.”

“A chaos?” Taehyung echoes.

“I cannot find another way to phrase it.”

“The thing about him is that, for the most part, he knows how he is expected to behave. What he should say or not, what he should and shouldn't do. Means he’s a good performer and liar. Like a damn vixen. A sly, cunning fox.”

“Taehyung, you do realize that vixen, when used for a human and not to refer to the female fox, usually means that you find them irritable yet sexual attractive, right?”

Taehyung glares at his mother as a heat creeps up his neck. “Backtracking on what I just said and entirely ignoring what you just said. Jungkook is a— A—” He stops to mull over for a second. “A viper.” He nods to himself. “Sly. Cunning. Slithering their way everywhere to strike when you least expect it. Yada yada.”

“You don’t know this boy, Taehyung. You’re misjudging him."

“What I mean is that he’s hiding something. And his true self."

“We all are to some extent,” Dahee rebuts.

“I’m not,” Junhyun says.

“Except you, Darling,” Dahee laughs and kisses her mate. “But I understand, and we will be cautious with Jungkook. We’ll ensure that what secret he suppresses isn’t aimed at us, although I’m fairly certain we’re at the bottom of his list of vendetta, if he has one.”

“Yeah. I guess his parents are first,” Taehyung concedes.

“Indeed.”

A silence floats in the room.

Taehyung thinks and thinks and thinks some more, then he breaks the quietude with a heaved 'Fuck.'

“Is this ‘fuck’ a sign of another tantrum of yours or a decision made?” Dahee inquires with an amused lilt.

“Both."

“Oh?”

Taehyung can already tell that he’ll regret his choice. However he has taken everything into account: the trust in his parents, the plague, the Elder’s words of wisdom as well as the atrocious Queen and King.

And so Taehyung makes a decision, one that he hopes won’t turn around to bite him in the ass.

“I’ll marry the heir of the Jeon dynasty.”

Chapter Text

“No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking damn way.”

Jimin bursts into a loud, infuriating laughter that resounds in Taehyung’s head. Even after five minutes has passed, Jimin is still cackling, tears streaming down his face in a sight so ghastly that Taehyung closes his eyes to escape it. To Taehyung’s happiness, Jimin’s saliva must go down the wrong pipe because his hilarity is cut short by a strangled sound. Jimin erupts into a series of wet coughs.

Taehyung secretly hopes that they may lead to a certain, long awaited death.

“By the Elders,” Jimin breathlessly says after a while.

“Are you done?”

Jimin barks out a ragged laugh before turning his smile into a playful severity. “I am now. I still had a bit of amusement left in me.”

Taehyung glowers at the sky from where he’s laid down.

He and Jimin are loitering at their favorite hang out spot. It’s buried inside Vanae’s forest, on a short but deep cliff that overviews a river underneath. Taehyung adores this secluded place, one he and his best friend use as some sort of confessional to vent and rant about anything and everything. Right now, however, he has half a mind to grab Jimin by the back of his shirt and toss him in the river. Jimin would easily survive. So Taehyung ponders on this for a moment before he’s disrupted from his musing by the protagonist of it.

“I can’t believe you agreed.”

“You and I both. Mom told the Jeon family already, so it’s set in stone. In scorching, blazing stones from Hell.”

“When’s the wedding?”

Taehyung shrugs. “No clue. We’re not even in the planning phase of it yet.”

“But it’s happening, happening? As in, no backpedaling from this now?”

“Yeah..."

“Honestly,” Jimin starts and drops on the ground next to Taehyung. “I thought you’d end up single for the rest of your life while still living at your parents’ house. I could never imagine you in a relationship, let alone married.”

“I am single. Just married. There’s a subtlety there.”

Taehyung isn’t in denial.

He simply believes that, even if on the papers he will be wed to Amaris’ Prince, he technically won’t be in love with him nor any of that nonsense, and therefore will remain blissfully single until he finds a mate. Not that he wants to find one, but it could happen in sheer dumb luck.

Jimin surveys Taehyung with disbelief. “Do you not hear how nonsensical that subtlety is or what?”

“The marriage is… It’s to bring assets. It’s a duty. That doesn’t mean I’m obliged to love the Prince aside from the moments where I’ll have to pretend I do.”

“Does the Prince think the same?”

“Who knows with him. He’s as readable as a blank sheet of paper yet as malleable as a wet one. Pisses me off."

“I’ve never seen him. What does he look like?”

“A stuck up prick,” is Taehyung’s immediate response, received with a pinch that he reciprocates with one of his own. “He is.”

“Give my imagination something to work with. Come on."

“You’ll see him soon.”

A smile stretches on Jimin’s mouth, one that Taehyung regards with cautiousness. “How soon?”

“Whenever he’ll be moving to Vanae. Then he’ll be here all the time, unfortunately. Although I’ll—”

“Yes, yes, you'll ignore him, I know the song. Now,” Jimin starts and sways his legs back and forth behind him, “tell me what my future friend looks like.”

“He’s…” Taehyung waves a hand around. “He has big yet sharp eyes? Black, short hair. And several piercings on his ears. I don’t know.”

Jimin levels Taehyung with a stony stare. “That is the most generic description you could give me."

“You’ll see him."

“Is he pretty?”

So.

The thing is, Taehyung wants to answer this with a carefully crafted — and childish — insult toward humans’ hideousness and how contagious it may be. However he stops for a moment. An image of the Prince’s face flickers in his mind. He's not silent for very long, barely two or three seconds at most, but this beat of muteness condemns him.

Jimin gasps right as Taehyung is about to speak.

“He is pretty!”

“No.”

“He totally is!”

“I said no!”

“You paused!” Jimin points an accusing finger at Taehyung that the latter nearly bites off. “That’s one of your telltale signs that you’re thinking of lying, or that you're about to lie. I know you. Oh he must be gorgeous to have you fumble like that.”

“I didn’t fumble shit and he’s alright I guess. Shut up now.”

Jimin laughs.

Taehyung throws an arm over his face to shield himself from the bright rays of light, the sun bathing the cliff.

His mind has been preoccupied by the plague. 

Trying to find any semblance of helpful information has been a fruitless endeavor thus far. He had considered sharing with Jimin the knowledge of the plague — as, if he is to trust someone with this, it is with the man that he considers a brother — but he had refused to go against his mother and the Elders' request to keep this hushed.

Life at home has been a hectic mess. 

A little over a week has passed since the atrocious meeting at the Jeon citadel and Taehyung’s agreement to the wedding. Dahee and Junhyun are often gone from the house to refine the details of their arrangements, meaning that Taehyung's days are split between his personal duties, taking over his mother as Vanae's leader, and handling his hunting squadrons to help provide meat or other necessities for the awaited rough winter.

Taehyung has thankfully not seen Jungkook, Seohyung or Sungming again, partially because he has refused to. He's been festering a profound denial about his upcoming wedding while being swamped with work and research, a feat that he does not hesitate to use as a scapegoat for his lack of participation in the marriage’s settlements.

Crackles erupt on Taehyung’s left, tugging him out of his musings.

He moves his arm to survey Jimin who’s producing metal from his hands. The small, ragged ball of iron hovers in his palms before dropping on the grass. Taehyung has seen the process countless times, yet the ease in which Jimin works still fascinates him: there are tamed flames surrounding the tips of Jimin’s fingers, used then to melt and shape the metal into what Taehyung is recognizing as the head of a wolf.

By the time Jimin completes his sculpture, the sun has moved away from the cliff, chilling Taehyung.

“We should get home," Taehyung says and rises up. "The parents are back today.”

“I miss Dahee and Junnie.” Jimin pouts. “Haven’t seen them and you in weeks."

"How was work at the Seven Isles?"

"The usual," JImin shrugs. "Had a lot of commissions to handle, but the interesting kind for once, not thousands of spoons," he grumbles, eliciting a chuckle from Taehyung. "It was lonely though."

“If it’s any consolation, Mom and Dad missed you a lot too. Especially Dad. He wouldn’t stop asking when you’d come back. He teared up about it this week,” Taehyung snorts. "You'd think you died with how he has been moping around."

Jimin slings an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders then says “Isn’t it crazy how your parents love me more than you?” Jimin emits a pained sound when Taehyung elbows him in the ribs. “Asshole.”

Taehyung flashes a wicked grin at Jimin. “Race to the house.”

Without waiting for any approval at the sudden challenge, Taehyung shifts to his dragon self and bolts away. Jimin’s yells of indignation veer into growls as he turns into a medium sized dragon, iron scales shining in the sunlight.

The race is quick and rambunctious. Taehyung and Jimin attempt to throw the other off or disturb each other’s balance in the sky through lighthearted bites and not so playful shoves. It finishes with Taehyung as the winner, and Jimin is peeved.

“You cheated and went off before me,” Jimin groans and shoulders Taehyung out of his way.

“Excuses, excuses. Maybe if you—”

The door of Taehyung’s home swings open with a shouted ‘Son!’ .

“Jiminie!”

“Junnie!”

Jimin dashes toward Taehyung’s parents — and Jimin's adopted one, in a way —, soon engulfed in a hug that looks suffocating from the outside. Taehyung’s lips curve around a smile, the tightness that had resided in his chest for the past few weeks soothing now that his family is reunited.

“Has Taehyung told you about the marriage?” Dahee's smile settles on Jimin before drifting toward Taehyung that she pulls into a brief embrace.

“I learned about it when I came back today. Here.” Jimin presented the wolf head statuette to Junhyun. "A gift."

“It is exciting, isn’t it? The wedding will be beautiful,” Junhyun says then brings the figure closer to his face, his praises intersected by awed ‘Ooh’ s when Jimin shows Junhyun a detail in the wolf’s irises. “Gorgeous work as always, Jiminie. I will add it to our collection.”

“Speaking of gorgeous,” Jimin begins, hanging onto Dahee’s arm.. Taehyung, aware of where this is leading to, makes his escape to enter his home, followed by his parents and Jimin. “What does the prince look like? Taehyung won’t say anything relevant about him.”

“Oh he is absolutely stunning,” Dahee giggles, and Jimin echoes her. “A rare beauty. You will see for yourself very soon. He’s incredibly smart as well. I like him.”

“If you do, I probably will too."

“Taehyung unfortunately doesn’t share the sentiment. Yet."

“Ever,” Taehyung corrects, ignoring the sly smile Jimin throws his way. “I’ll fix us some drinks, what do you want?”

A chorus of requests answers him.

Taehyung makes his way to the kitchen where he grabs a glass pot of coffee beans that he grinds with relaxed ease, and it’s a bit silly, how much he loves doing this.

Taking care of and providing for those he holds close to his heart has always been something Taehyung cherishes. He isn’t the most adept man when it comes to articulating his love, and he used to find it quite difficult to bond with his peers, then sustain said bonds, however his duties as Vanae’s future leader, his parents and Jimin’s extroverted enthusiasm have helped him come out of this wary and protective shell he'd cast around himself.

To some extent, at least.

So Taehyung hums to himself as he works on supplying the beverages for the group lounging in the living room, his happiness swelling at the sound of his family’s. He pivots against the kitchen counter minutes later, peering ahead with a smile floating on his lips while the drinks are being brewed.

“How has your trip been, Son?” Junhyun asks.

“Great! But can we please skip this unimportant chat and instead focus on the interesting matter at hand, more specifically the wedding?” Jimin dismisses, settled on a recliner.

Junhyun bursts into laughter.

“When is it? What’s happening now? I need to be up to date.”

“Well... For one, we will have quite the busy day tomorrow, as Jungkook will come live here with us.”

What semblance of levity within Taehyung disappears at the remembrance.

“It has been a rather tedious endeavor to convince Amaris’ Queen and King, but they've finally agreed.”

“So soon?” Jimin inquires, voicing out Taehyung’s concerns.

“We thought it wise to have it done earlier than later, lest the Queen and King change their mind as they have several times since we first brought this subject to them."

“Why would they change their mind about this? Isn't it an expected tradition for married couples to live together?” Jimin says.

“Jungkook’s parents are… peculiar."

“Absolutely terrible would be closer to the truth,” Taehyung interjects. “I can’t imagine how worse it may be behind closed doors.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah, they’re disgusting pigs,” Taehyung grimaces. “I don’t like the Prince nor humans in general, but the way they treat him is vile.”

“They see Jungkook as an inanimate asset that must fulfill his duties no matter the cost," Dahee agrees. "So we want to help Jungkook, even more now that he has become Taehyung’s betrothed. Having him out of the citadel as soon as possible is one of our current priorities.”

Jimin pensively stares ahead, a sympathetic frown knitting his face. “I had no clue Amaris’ rulers were that bad. I only assumed they were strict at worst from what I heard.”

“They treat their people quite well and try to see to their needs, that we have to grant them,” Junhyun starts. “It unfortunately does not extend to their own son.”

“I see.” Jimin quietens for a moment before saying “So the move happens tomorrow?”

“Yes, late afternoon. Taehyung and I will be flying Jungkook and his belongings to Vanae,” Dahee explains.

“I’m surprised you agreed to this with how blasé you are about the wedding,” Jimin says to Taehyung.

“I hadn’t at first.” Taehyung is reminded of the strong argument he had had with his mother last weekend that had ended with a fuming and defeated participant — Taehyung —, and a victorious, pompous one — Dahee. “But it’ll be good in dragonborns’ eyes if I help my betrothed move in, I suppose. It would raise questions if I don’t.”

“Plus there will be many curious visitors tomorrow,” Dahee adds. “The Queen and King will open the citadel’s gates and allow Amaris’ people to bid farewell to their Prince.”

“Can I join? I want to see the Prince. And the citadel. I’ve never been in a place like that before,” Jimin smiles, and even if Taehyung is already dreading the invasion of his abode, Jimin’s evident excitement at the prospect still somewhat placates Taehyung’s discontentment.

“I’ll need moral support anyway.” Taehyung turns around and lines up four cups to pour their beverages in.

“You’re about to marry a smart and pretty Prince. You, 'who don’t care about love',” Jimin says with a deepened voice and glower that do not reflect Taehyung whatsoever, “should be grateful to be this lucky in an arranged marriage.”

Taehyung huffs. He lifts his burden from the counter and marches to the living room to hand everyone their cup before plopping down in The Armchair. “I’ll be tied for life to a human. There’s nothing lucky about it.”

“True. But you agreed to this, so suck it up,” Jimin tuts, earning himself a kick on the shin. “So he and the Prince will live in this house with you two?”

“No, it would be quite inappropriate,” Dahee chuckles. “They will live in the one we had built a few minutes away.”

“Ooh, makes sense.”

His mother’s response hits Taehyung anew with the reality that he will have to move out of his childhood house.

The second house had been constructed years ago by Taehyung and his family in preparation for his departure that has never really occurred. His parents had always expressed their appreciation to have him home, and Taehyung’s motivation to leave had been further quelled by the few times Junhyun would tear up whenever Taehyung would dare mention anything regarding the second house.

The two stories house is fully built, however it holds close to no furniture, a problem that Taehyung and the Prince will have to remedy soon.

“No one has ever been there since it was finished though. It must be dusty."

“Which is why you’re here.” Taehyung takes a sip of his milked coffee. “To be useful and help me clean it.”

“Do I look like your maid?”

“You sure sound like one.” Taehyung easily dodges the kick Jimin aims his way. He summons his arcane to zap Jimin’s forehead whose head jerks backward.

Dahee flips two fireballs on Taehyung and Jimin's noses, effectively interrupting what was about to become a brawl between the two friends. “Junhyun and I will help as well.”

“Shall we start? The earlier we begin, the earlier it'll be done."

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs. “Let’s.”

“You’ll need furniture as well, my son,” Junhyun remarks and walks to the entrance door, cup still in his hands.

“I’ll check that later with the Prince.”

“Ehh, listen to you being such a considerate and thoughtful husband already,” Jimin teases in a high pitched voice, a hand on his mouth. “Taking into account your betrothed’s needs and wishes, how quaint. How precious. Will you debate together on the color of the kitchen’s curtains?”

“I can’t believe you’re managing to be even more obnoxious than you already are. Truly a feat the Elders would be gobsmacked by."

“Oh I’m barely starting.” Jimin snickers. "Now, Mom, I want to know everything that was told about the wedding. Don’t spare any detail, please.”

“My dear,” Dahee curls an arm around one of Jimin’s, leading him outside. “You would not believe how entertaining the dinner with the Jeon family proved itself to be. It is a memory I deeply cherish.”

“Tell me, tell me."

With a shake of his head, Taehyung watches the two blabbermouths skip down the path guiding them to the second house.

Junhyun makes a noncommittal sound that Taehyung reads as one of sympathy. He pats Taehyung’s back. “It will be a good exercise. I will bake us some pastries to reinvigorate us half way through.”

That addition catches Taehyung’s attention. “Croissant? With blueberry jam?”

“And almond on top, yes, my son,” Junhyun chuckles, ruffling Taehyung’s hair.

Taehyung smiles, uncaring of his now tousled strands, and he watches Junhyun join the rest of the family.

Taehyung has concocted an infallible plan for Jungkook's arrival in Vanae: a complete, and unwavering ignorance of the Prince's existence.

It's easy, right? It won't demand anything from Taehyung, and Jungkook will be allowed to do whatever it is that the heir of Amaris' throne does, away from the despicable Queen and King. Plus Taehyung is not alone and has his family to support him if any problem arises, and with these thoughts in mind, Taehyung wonders if this upcoming married life may be more bearable than what he had first envisioned.

“Is everyone ready to go?”

“Dibs on Junnie!”

Jimin shifts to his dragon form. He snatches a laughing Junhyun on his way, the latter still chuckling as he’s thrown on Jimin’s back. 

The two fly off in a gust of wind.

“Those fools…” Dahee sighs.

“Jimin will probably be of no help for the return since he’ll spend his time exhausting himself playing with Dad.”

“Definitely,” Dahee says with a smile that Taehyung mirrors, albeit more faintly. “How are you faring, Son?”

Taehyung's lips press into a thin line. “I don’t know, honestly. The past week went by in a blur. I barely remember what I’ve been doing with how occupied my mind has been.”

“It has been a lot, hasn’t it?”

“I’m researching about you know what, but I found nothing. Maybe we will now that we have access to Jeon’s library? I doubt they’ll have anything that could help us, but…”

“It has been my hope as well. However, while I understand you’re striving to unearth any knowledge about it, do not forget yourself in the process, Taehyung. The matter has been plaguing us for a long time now.” Dahee regards him with warmth, and Taehyung can’t refrain his snort at the distasteful pun. “You shouldn’t let it mangle your mind nor stop you from living your life.”

“I’ll try not to."

“You’ll be busy with your betrothed and the wedding anyway. I cannot wait.”

"Say, has the Prince ever mentioned having a page or someone like that?”

“I believe he has an attendant, like every prince would. Why?”

“I’m wondering if he’ll bring them with him or not.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Dahee muses, arms folded over her chest. “I suppose that if it is to happen, it will be a brief while after you and Jungkook have settled down properly. Let us ask him today. If someone knows, it is Jungkook.”

“Yeah."

"I visited Naeun and Joonho a few days ago to announce the news," Dahee suddenly says.

Taehyung freezes on his spot.

"They've been well and happy. They've asked about you," Dahee carries on, her gaze drifting on Taehyung. "They miss you, Son. You should visit them too."

Taehyung misses the couple as well, the one that used to take care of him when his parents were away or busy with work. However the sole idea of entering the couple's house, of seeing them and hearing them, wrenches at a place in his heart where a searing guilt sits, acute and alive, even years after. "Maybe another time," he dismisses as he has countless times for a decade. "We should leave before Dad and Jimin accidentally kill one another.”

Dahee doesn't push on the subject. She never does. Instead she pecks Taehyung's forehead, the two of them soon soaring through the sky.

Amaris is brimming with humans, and Taehyung internally flinches at the view below him.

Masses are walking through the roads and boulevards paved in elegant stones, some of the people from Amaris itself, however also from neighboring towns, if the discrepancies in styles are any indication. The departure of the Prince appears to be treated as a festivity. A street market of plethora of food, clothes and jewelry lines the main avenue, stretching as far as inside the public square facing the entrance of the citadel’s garden.

Taehyung had not expected that, in spite of his mother’s warnings. 

Is the celebration born from the advantages the marriage will bring to them? Or is it due to the fact that the Prince will now be away from their home? Or something else?

Taehyung catches Jimin and their parents in the corner of his eyes, the only dragonborns flying over the city. To Taehyung’s relief, Dahee leads them to the fenced backyard, away from prying eyes and the rush of humans.

The area is even more vast than the public square. The courtyard is an ensemble of perfectly trimmed grass and smooth, rosy cobblestones, the interior enclosed by high walls and a set of double doors opened to the forest. Servants are bustling around in a hurried buzz, dashing and walking to and from the citadel. A dozen or so of carriages and carts are filling the place and being loaded with wooden crates of different sizes.

Taehyung’s group lowers to the ground.

Eyes dart on them. The maids pause in their chores to gawk at the small thunder of dragons. Taehyung and the others shift mid air to land on their feet as humans.

“By the Elders.” Jimin twirls around and observes the area. “Everything is so…”

Yeah.

Taehyung can relate to that thought without needing to hear the rest of it. “Careful not to squash a golden handkerchief and accidentally start a war."

“I’d easily charm them out of said war.”

The group makes their way toward the Citadel.

The restlessness that had ignited within Taehyung remains in his chest, a heavy weight that is thankfully tamed now that he’s at the back of the citadel. While the maids scurry past him a tad too close sometimes, they aren’t as numerous as the suffocating crowd at the front.

“Oh! I see him." Junhyun breaks into a grin. "Prince Jungkook!”

The Prince swivels around like, well, a damned Prince, the movement so fluid and graceful that his long, light blue overcoat perfectly arcs behind him. It's as if the motion has been practiced for years on end, and Taehyung is certain it has been. He can imagine the ridiculous sight of the Prince rehearsing something as mundane as turning around with the sole goal of showing off how well he can do it. Because he's a vain bastard like that.

The Prince seems to like monochrome outfits because he’s clad in a baby blue, three piece suit accentuated by gold touches, similar to the apparel he had adorned during his and Taehyung’s first meeting. The ruby necklace is fastened around the neck, impossible to miss against the opposing color.

The Prince grins to a servant, speaking with her for a brief moment.

Taehyung recognizes her as Sohee, the chocolate chip smuggler. Her eyes meet his and when they do, she bows to him with a small smile, one that he tentatively reciprocates. 

Humans may be despicable, but Sohee had been nice to Taehyung and given him chocolate, so Taehyung, like a seven years old tamed by candies, shoves down his contempt.

The Prince joins the group of four with purposeful steps. The weird gaze happens again: Jungkook makes a swift once over of Taehyung’s form, however not fast enough for Taehyung to miss it.

Taehyung knows that he has made even less effort than last time to dress properly. He has opted for an all black apparel consisting of his boots, combat pants and a long sleeved, tight fitting shirt. He had assumed that the Prince wouldn’t be as hung up on proper garments as his harpy of a mother, yet the latter clearly is if his riveted gaze is any indication.

Dahee, like the mischievous ray of sunshine that she is, is radiating with joy. She hugs the Prince who reciprocates the greeting, although a tad more awkwardly. “It is good to see you, Jungkook."

“Likewise,” Jungkook says and lets go of Dahee.

“How have you been?” Junhyun pipes up.

“Happy and excited. Busy with packing everything up.”

“You’re bringing many goods with you.”

At his mother’s observation, Taehyung really takes in the place and amount of carriages crammed with crates. He frowns before peering at the Prince.

“Ah… Yes.” Jungkook has the decency to look sheepish, his gaze cast low. “I have quite a lot of clothes, among other things.”

“There’s no shame in that. You should see Junhyun’s wardrobe," Dahee chuckles. "It surpasses mine, and Elders know I, myself, am fond of fashion and couture due to some of our friends.”

Taehyung tunes out the conversation to scrutinize Jungkook.

The Prince holds himself differently. He appears and even sounds more… laid-back? Buoyant? Overall less tense, as though a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Taehyung questions what it could be, if the answer is as simple as parting away from the Queen and King, or if it's a secret kept hushed.

“Where are you parents?” Dahee inquires.

“They’re at the entrance gates with the visitors and some neighboring noble families that have come to witness my departure,” Jungkook explains. “They will greet you shortly, however they won’t have the time to stay with us for long.”

“Good. You deserve an endless break from them,” Junhyun whispers, the phrase punctuated by conspiratorial wink. “I hope you aren’t too nervous about leaving home.”

“I am. A little bit. But… Uhm.” Jungkook glances around, and Taehyung understands why as Jungkook only continues his thought when no servants are within earshot. “I’m mostly relieved. To leave. I hadn’t—” He gnaws on his lower lip. “I hadn’t thought it would happen. That they would allow it.”

Taehyung has never seen the poised Prince fumble over his words this way. Not that he has a lot of meetings to compare it to — only one —, but still. It’s strange. Perhaps Amaris’ rulers are a lot worse than what Taehyung had first assumed.

“Junhyun and I have been doing our best to convince your parents about the benefits of your residence in Vanae."

“I know... They told me a couple days ago and— Thank you.” Jungkook grabs one of Dahee’s hands, cradling it between his own hands. “Thank you.”

“Not for that, Dear.” Dahee is about to say more but is cut by Jimin who had wandered off.

“Oh.” Jimin watches Jungkook with hawk eyes. His gaze darts on Taehyung. “He is beautiful, you were right.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise while Taehyung’s furrow. “He said that?”

“I never did,” Taehyung promptly denies.

“Hi! My name’s Park Jimin,” Jimin introduces himself, shaking Jungkook’s hand. “I’m basically Taehyung’s big brother.”

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, Amaris’ Prince.”

“You’re not even three months older than me,” Taehyung retorts. “Stop referring to yourself as my big brother, it’s embarrassing."

“But I am older than you. Wiser, smarter. Prettier too."

“And a lot more delusional."

Jimin, as he often does, kicks Taehyung’s rear, but Taehyung, seeing this coming from a mile away, manages to wedge a leg between his friend’s. Jimin nearly trips, finding his equilibrium just in time to avoid a fall. “Watch it, asshole, or I’ll singe your ass.”

“You can try."

“Children, focus on the task at hand.” Dahee intervenes. “What left has to be done?”

“Not a lot,” Jungkook muses. “We have to finish moving the remainder of the crates inside the free carts. Since you warned me that the house Taehyung and I will live in is missing furniture, I thought it would be good to bring some of mine.”

“It is indeed,” Junhyun nods. “Let us help, everyone.”

Taehyung and the rest follow Jungkook through the paths carved amidst the lawn.

Jimin leans close to Taehyung to murmur “What if the grass is made of thinned emerald?”

Taehyung knows it’s a joke, but he frankly wouldn’t put it past Amaris' rulers.

“I wouldn’t put it past you know who,” Dahee replies.

Taehyung barks out a laugh at his mother voicing out hers and Taehyung's thoughts without any qualms. Jungkook’s head twists to peer at him. Taehyung reflexively schools his expression back into its common scowl. Jungkook faces ahead again, and Taehyung counts that as a victory.

“Damn, so we can joke about the Queen and King in front of Jungkook? We won’t get beheaded for that capital offense?” Jimin wonders.

“You’re more than welcome to say anything you want about them,” Jungkook assures. “Be aware that I’ll be mentally joining you in the festivities.”

“Ehh,” Jimin draws out. “So you have shitty parents too?”

“The Queen and King are great rulers. They want what is good for their prosperity."

Jimin tilts his head, visibly confused. Taehyung, on the other hand, understands the connotation behind Jungkook’s evasive words, and how they echo with what Taehyung had said at the dinner. It's confirmed when Jungkook glances in Taehyung’s direction.

“There isn’t much left to carry,” Jungkook announces.

They’ve entered a large hall occupied with a few wooden boxes scattered around. “Are you bringing the whole citadel with you?” Taehyung grumbles.

“No,” Jungkook says, either unaware of the rhetoric in the question or choosing to ignore it. “Only my own belongings along with additional necessities to avoid buying if it’s not needed. And some furniture, as I mentioned.”

“Shall we begin?” Junhyun proposes.

“You really don’t need to aid us," Jungkook says. "The helpers and I can take care of it.”

“Nonsense. It’ll be faster if you have dragonborns assisting you.” Junhyun gestures at Taehyung and Jimin. “Sons, give them a hand.”

Taehyung strides to the nearest crates. He tugs his sleeves up his forearms. He crouches and makes a move to grab the wide, square box, but he's disrupted by a nagging Prince.

“Wait. This one has a lot of heavy things and a dismantled wardrobe in it, as well as—”

Taehyung, without breaking a sweat — or a bone, for that matter —, effortlessly picks up the crate with one hand, catching an edge with the other one to secure it on his shoulder. He makes sure to pointedly stare at Jungkook as he does so, their eyes locked on each other. He even mouths off the Prince with a flippant little motion of his brow.

Jungkook’s lips part around nothing. He rotates on his feet to survey Taehyung’s parents and Jimin achieving the exact same prowess Taehyung had. Dahee carries a crate that is almost twice her size after Junhyun says that it is too heavy for him and his sore back. The maids are astonished by the show of strength as well, those in the vicinity stopping to stare at a smiling Dahee.

The Prince studies Taehyung. “I didn’t know dragonborns were that strong?”

Taehyung walks toward Jungkook. Not near to intentionally whack the Prince with a corner of the box, but close enough where he could if need be. “And what is it that you know about us, Viper,” he says with defiance, the question sounding more like an accusation.

“Not a lot, but I want to learn.”

“My dear, are you sure it isn’t too heavy?” Junhyun worries as he walks by.

“I’m stronger than you, Darling,” Dahee huffs.

Taehyung uses this distraction to step around the Prince and climb down the perron. 

After a rapid inspection, he finds a carriage to wedge his box in. Once in front of it, he notices how well arranged everything is. He clicks his tongue. He’s about to leave the box inside when he hears the voice that he will regretfully become familiar with.

“Can you leave it in this carriage, please?”

Taehyung turns to face the Prince. “It fits in this one.”

“I know, but I’m trying to optimize space and weight, so that we can use as few carriages as possible while ensuring that the ropes hold the weight during the trip.”

So the Prince is also some kind of spacing engineer and the one that has conducted the whole packing process. 

Eager to leave Amaris, and not wishing to argue for something so unimportant, Taehyung complies to Jungkook’s request. He follows the Prince as the latter points at this or that carriage when a maid stops him.

“In this one,” Jungkook says seconds later, his arms full of a box he has gathered on the way. “In the space left at the center.”

Taehyung deposits the crate as indicated. When Jungkook props his own next to Taehyung’s, their shoulders bump in a faint brush. The motion propels a waft of freshness and earthy petricor. Jungkook smells like nature, as stupid as it sounds in Taehyung’s head. The floral yet rainy scent has another aspect to it that Taehyung can’t really pinpoint, one that is colder and grimmer.

Taehyung’s nose wrinkles. 

Once done with his job, he swivels around to find another box to store.

As Jungkook had said, little remains, and less than five minutes later, the carts are filled with every single crate. Half of the servants lock the carts’ doors shut, while the other half take care of looping the thick boat ropes around the large metal hoops attached on each carriage.

All the while, Taehyung can feel the abundance of glances his way. 

The workers not aware of who their Prince is marrying are evidently curious, some staring too intensely at Taehyung before their gaze darts away when he glowers back at them.

“I’m surprised he’s been helping,” Jimin notes. “As in: carrying, not just directing. He seems a lot more approachable and friendly than any other human princes I’ve heard of."

Taehyung finished the knot around one of the hoops for the cart that will serve as a transportation vessel for Jungkook. “He can’t be worse than his parents. Probably.” 

“I talked to him a bit and he’s really nice.”

“Sure,” Taehyung chuckles without an ounce of amusement. “He's most likely faking it. I know you enjoy making new friends, be careful about him. There's something off.”

“I’ll be. Although I don’t think he’s faking anything.”

“You don’t know him."

“Neither do you and you’ll never get familiar with your own husband if you constantly give him the cold shoulder.”

“Good. I have absolutely no interest in befriending a human. Prince or not, husband or not,” Taehyung declares with finality.

“You’re a lost cause,” Jimin forlornly sighs. “Hopefully you soon find a way to locate and take out that bundle of wood sticks shoved up your ass. Can’t be comfortable walking around like that all day long.”

Taehyung makes a move to kick Jimin’s shin but the latter deftly dodges it to saunter off.

A rush of quietness wraps around the courtyard. It's sudden and abrupt enough to know its instigators

Seohyung and Sungmin make their entrance in the courtyard, their servants parting to let them pass through. 

Taehyung meets his mother’s gaze a moment later. At her nod, he walks to her, joining the rest of the group greeting each other. He stays close to hear the discussion, however far enough to stealthily eclipse if he wishes to.

“I see everything has been promptly taken care of,” Seohyung comments with satisfaction.

Like clockwork, the veneer of indifference and coldness wraps around Jungkook. “Yes, my queen.”

“Your people would like to bid their farewell to you, Jungkook,” Sungmin says. “You must do so at the citadel’s entrance. They await you.”

“Of course. I’ll be back shortly.”

On those last words, the Prince splits away from the group. 

Thankfully not at the center of anyone’s attention, Taehyung decides to trail after him. He keeps a safe distance to, on one side, not be noticed by the Prince, and on the other to spy on him. 

Jungkook emerges outside a minute later.

A commotion erupts at his appearance.

Taehyung leans against a column near the gates and attentively watches.

The Prince seems well in his element. He grins and chuckles. He shakes hands with the commoners, the foreign visitors and the merchants, wishing them a peaceful life or a fruitful business. He reassures his people: telling them that his departure is only temporary, and that he will continue to overview Amaris and make its residents a priority no matter what.

Taehyung can’t fully hear some of what is being said to the Prince, the ambient cacophony drowning the voices. He still catches a few people mention that perhaps trusting dragonborns may be too risky, that it may endanger Amaris. However, to Taehyung’s surprise — and suspicion —, Jungkook swiftly deflects the worries with a gentle diplomacy.

Jungkook goes as far as defending Vanae’s people, saying that dragonborns are kind and giving, where a lot is to learn from them.

The questions inevitably deviate toward the second participant of this marriage: Taehyung. They are more or less troubled, but most of the queries are curious about who their beloved Prince will marry. This time, unlike before, Jungkook answers with truths that only Taehyung knows to be half ones.

“I have a really good feeling about it,” the Prince replies to a woman.

“My betrothed is kind and cares about his people,” Jungkook says to a man. He’s about to respond to another when someone else exclaims.

“Wait! Isn’t that him?!” The man says, and as though it does not suffice, he points a crooked finger in Taehyung’s direction.

Taehyung curses.

His presence is noted by more people, including those on the stairs. He's about to bolt out when a hand snatches the fabric of his shirt to unceremoniously yank him into the masses. He has half a mind to snarl and utter a series of expletives to prompt the old man let go of his fucking sleeve , but before Taehyung can, the sea of men, women, children and more swarms him.

The dread is instantaneous.

It’s frenzied and consuming, gnawing at his core. It slams into Taehyung who can only freeze on his spot and stare at the humans surrounding him in every spot his eyes lay on. Shoulders bump into him. Hands pat his arms or back. Fingers pull on his shirt. He's watched. 

He's being appraised. 

Again.

The shouts are next.

They’re deafening, ringing between Taehyung’s eardrums. In spite of their enthusiasm that he can perceive at first, they soon veer into vociferation, jeer or mockery. Numbers. Or do they really? His mind reels back and forth, from past to present, from restraint to freedom, both blending into a veil of suffocating fear that coils around Taehyung’s throat.

Cold sweat blooms on his nape and he can feel it happening, the hazy edges of one of those fright attacks he hasn’t had in hell knows how long. His skin prickles on the tip of his fingers, a telltale sign of them about to go numb. He tries to focus on something else. Anything. But all he can hear are the stifling sounds of voices mingling together.

“He’s so handsome!”

“Look at him. Fucking pathetic.”

"Man..." A laugh. "Are those sweat drops or tears?"

“You two are splendid together!”

"Is he waking up?"

"Fuck. I think he's waking up. Get—”

“Aah, you make such a beautiful pair.”

“Hurry it up. Don’t let him get away.”

“Please, take care of our Prince.”

“I’ll take care of this one. You finish this part. Quick.”

“Please do! Make sure that the Prince is well treated! He deserves the best only!”

“Thank you,” someone says with levity, unbeknownst to the way Taehyung’s heart is a throb away from spilling out of his chest. “I assure you he will.”

A whiff of rich floral scent is blown in Taehyung’s direction along with the voice. It’s coupled with an alien hand that grabs a hold of his right arm, tugging him closer to a body that Taehyung believes to vaguely recognize as Jungkook’s.

Taehyung is lightheaded. His breathing gains in speed, trembling as he exhales through his mouth. The feeling of suffocation heightens to a point where he wants to turn into his dragon counterpart to simply be able to gulp more air, Amaris’ people be damned if they’re crushed in the process.

“My apologies for our abrupt departure, however we must carry on with the carts’ organization,” Jungkook says and unknowingly saves dozens of his people. “Thank you for seeing me goodbye, being so kind to me and welcoming to my betrothed. May you be well and healthy.”

Taehyung's legs that had locked without his control refuse to move. It’s only when Jungkook jerks on Taehyung’s arm a tad more strongly that Taehyung finally walks away with him. 

Taehyung’s mouth clamps shut. His fists ball up, a desperate attempt to calm himself and crush down the ever growing dizziness that swells within his chest. It’s mechanical when he falls into steps next to Jungkook, the latter still gripping onto him.

“Close the gates, please,” Jungkook orders to someone as he and Taehyung enter the citadel.

 The doors are pushed shut.

Taehyung immediately relaxes — even if slightly. The yells and affluence of smells that had suffused his nose are muffled. He doesn’t know when they reach the back of the citadel, but he hears some voices that he remembers.

The hand on his arm vanishes.

His mind backtracks to the nightmare of a few years ago. The pain flares anew, even if Taehyung knows that he isn’t back there again, but—

Two palms cups Taehyung’s face. 

Someone — Jimin — says “Hey. You’re with us.”

Taehyung peers down at Jimin. The tremors in his body come in waves that he does his best to tame down. He centers himself on Jimin and his touch, on his parents’ familiar scents as they rush toward him with concerned looks.

He’s safe, he repeats to himself in a mantra.

He’s with his family and safe, away from most humans.

Safe.

The agonizing pain isn’t here. It’s only in his head, a phantom ache of the ghosts that haunt his nights since six years ago.

Taehyung breathes in and out, counting in his head during each exhalation and inhalation. As the numbers elapse, he taps the pulp of each finger on his thumb, counting over and over again.

Jimin pats Taehyung’s cheeks and, most likely sensing that Taehyung’s alarm has quelled down, he drops his hands. “What the hell happened?” His tone is harsh, aimed at Jungkook.

“I don’t know..."

Taehyung exhales a deep sigh. He lifts a shaky hand to cover his mouth with it, his brows furrowing as he rubs the heel of his palms against his eyelids. The veil blurring past and present is eventually gone, and so is the intangible hand strangling his breath away.

“He was at the front with me, I hadn’t seen him behind me. He was tugged in the crowd by some people and—” Jungkook pauses, and Taehyung can feel the glance aimed his way. “He seemed unwell, so I brought him back here.”

“I thought— Okay. Okay…” The warning sting in Jimin's timber disappears. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to speak to you like that.”

“It’s fine." It doesn’t seem like it, however, both in the way the Prince says this and in the aloofness that envelops him anew.

“Taehyung, my son, are you alright?” Dahee worries and squeezes his arm.

“Yeah, m’fine,” Taehyung rasps. His skin crawls with the itch to leave. The maids keep ogling his way. The humiliation washes over him, untamed and acute.

Dahee must feel his discomfort because she speaks. “Perhaps we should leave, then, if all has been readied for the flight.”

"Yes,” Jungkook agrees. “I just need to—”

“Jungkook!”

Someone bumps Taehyung’s shoulder who recoils at the touch. It’s a man, he realizes, one that encases the Prince in a hug.

“I thought you left already,” the man says.

“I wouldn’t have without telling you goodbye,” Jungkook answers, his sadness evident.

The man is at least a head taller than Jungkook. He’s sturdy with broad shoulders and an overall strong build. He has black hair that is shaved short and when the man separates from Jungkook, Taehyung can tell that the human is older than the Prince.

The man turns to survey the group, Taehyung only noticing then the absence of the Queen and King.

“This is Kim Namjoon,” Jungkook presents, the others greeting the newcomer. “A dear friend of mine and my page.”

“Are you moving out with Jungkook?” Dahee wonders.

“Not quite yet. I still have a few matters to attend to,” Namjoon replies with dimples carved in his cheeks.

“But it should happen eventually. We will be searching houses for him in Vanae once the time comes. Another friend will hopefully join me as well.”

“I’ll definitely visit you no matter what. And Yoongi too, although he’s been busy lately,” Namjoon ponders. His gaze catches Taehyung’s. “Are you Kim Taehyung? Jungkook’s betrothed?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung clears his throat to chase away the roughness in it. He shakes hands with the man.

“Nice to meet you.” Namjoon lets go. Taehyung shoves his hands in his pants’ pockets to nullify any further hand shaking. “I’ve heard a bit about you. Only good things.”

“You have?” Taehyung asks with unmasked doubt.

“Yes,” Namjoon laughs. 

Oddly enough, Jungkook’s ears and neck redden. 

“Jungkook has been raving about how h—”

“Impatient I am!” Jungkook slaps his friend’s back and there’s a wavering, forced smile on his lips. Fucking viper. “I’m sure you have a lot to do, Joon.”

“Right, right. Bye Jungkook,” Namjoon chuckles and hugs the Prince again. “I’ll miss you. Come visit us soon if we can’t.”

“I will.” There’s a shine in Jungkook’s eyes, and Taehyung averts his own. “Go now or I never will."

“Please, take care of him,” Namjoon smiles. “You will see that he can be quite a handful once he’s comfortable and out of his shell, so beware of—”

“Good. Bye. Kim Namjoon,” Jungkook hisses like a damn cat, his timber icy, and he pushes on his friend’s shoulders to thrust him forward. Jungkook waits for Namjoon to be away to huff and turn around. His ears are still red, the pink hues echoing those on the apple of his cheeks and nose. “Shall we go?”

The assigning affair of who carries which carts goes smoothly until they reach the point of deciding who the Prince will ride with.

Taehyung refuses to be the one to carry the Prince. What if he accidentally drops and kills the Prince? Plus he'd rather avoid being near a human for the rest of day. Or week. Or month, if Taehyung wishes to overcompensate for earlier's fright.

“Taehyung,” Dahee grunts. “We will pass over the city. Jungkook being flown away by one of us is a show of trust that will reassure Amaris’ people. And considering how the news of this marriage has spread like wildfire, they will enjoy seeing the betrothed everyone one has been speaking of as of late.”

“If not, I can be transported by someone else, it’s alright,” Jungkook offers.

There it is again: the forced compliance that irritates Taehyung. “I’ll fly you,” he ultimately says and walks to a spacious spot allowing him to shift without destroying anything. Relief flows through Taehyung’s limbs as he adorns his dragon self, his wings stretching and flapping a couple times.

Jungkook enters his carriage, and Junhyun fastens the door's lock behind the Prince. The carriage has two opened windows carved on each side, one of which Jungkook peeks out of to speak with Taehyung’s father.

“Your parents won’t see you off?”

“They’re probably busy. We can leave.” Jungkook peers up at Taehyung, his gaze dragging across the sheer height and size of Taehyung’s dragon form that would have most humans cower, however not the Prince, it seems. There’s a palpable awe on the Prince’s face, eyes bright and his mouth parted. “Wow...” the Prince breathes out. “You’re beautiful.”

Taehyung scowls. Surely, Jungkook had seen Taehyung and his parents in their dragon selves during their first meeting, so why the amazement now?

“First time seeing a dragon?” Jimin says.

“Yes,” Jungkook smiles. “I was quite nervous and lost in my own head during the dinner with Taehyung and his parents. I hadn’t seen them this way at all in the night's darkness.”

Ah.

“Jiminie! Come help us,” Junhyun exclaims from afar.

“Enjoy the flight, Jungkook," Jimin shouts then scurries away.

“Could we make sure to fly above the citadel and where my people are?”

There’s a fabricated softness to the Prince’s voice. Taehyung doesn’t know if he is that good at seeing through the Prince’s mask of compliance, or if the Prince is that bad at hiding it around Taehyung. It's perhaps a bit of both, but it does not matter. It irks Taehyung regardless.

“If possible, please?”

Taehyung ignores the Prince in favor of scanning the courtyard.

Junhyun has shifted as well, the dragon so colossal that it leaves no space for Dahee and Jimin to do the same on ground. The maids, once passed the stage of gawking in pure shock, begin to skittishly bustle around Junhyun. Half of the carts and the heaviest one are delegated to Junhyun, while the rest are split between Dahee and Jimin.

Taehyung had wanted to carry more than only Jungkook, however everyone had protested, deeming it too unsafe for him to have more than one. As a result, Taehyung is solely tasked with the transit of the Prince. 

A dozen minutes later, Jimin and Dahee are both high up in the sky alongside Junhyun. Some servants make a move to attach the rope on Taehyung’s talon, but he growls at them in warning. They promptly scamper away.

With the gnarled fingers of his right talon, Taehyung grips onto the ropes, curling them around a couple times. Once satisfied with his grip, his wings sweep up and down as he pushes himself higher.

His parents and Jimin are already on their way to Vanae, whereas Taehyung, in a fleeting show of kindness, drifts to the front of the citadel. Being an adept flier makes it easy to make sure the carriage does not awkwardly sway nor accidentally decapitate anyone, even as he skids low above the crowd.

Amaris’ residents are quiet, their eyes riveted upward on Taehyung. Jungkook’s torso peeks out of the window to wave.

Once the amazement has passed, the people rip through the quietude in a burst of cheers. 

"Good luck!"

"We will miss you, Prince Jungkook!"

"We will be waiting for the wedding!"

"Be careful, my prince!"

Still befuddled by how loved Jungkook appears to be in spite of how unpleasant the Queen and King are, Taehyung draws some more circles over the public place. He then flies down the avenue for good measure, hastening when this intangible hand forms anew around his throat.

Done with entertaining the humans, and growing increasingly overwhelmed by the sight of the city, Taehyung continues his path to the east, away from the people.

Soon, they leave Amaris, hopefully for good.

The hours elapse one by one. 

The thunder of dragons prefers to not take any break so as to not struggle with the carts and carriages amidst the dense forest. Junhyun’s pace has abated by now; he, Dahee and Jimin out of sight behind Taehyung who's travelling ahead of them.

The joy of flying, feeling the wind brush against his scales and skin, drives him away from his worries or discomfort. His wings ache, becoming sore from the long and uninterrupted flight, but Taehyung has grown used to it. He discards the dull pain to instead focus on the gorgeous night sky and speckles of stars, the calm burden dangling between his contorted fingers partially forgotten.

So Taehyung is distracted. His awareness is fleeting and elsewhere. He does not pay attention to his surroundings.

Nor to the ball of fire aimed at the bundled ropes holding the Prince’s carriage.

It takes a few seconds for him to process the lack of weight in his forelimb, for his instincts to blink awake and whisper at him that something is terribly, terribly wrong.

However when he does and looks down, it’s to the sight of the plummeting carriage.

Jungkook is still propped on the window of his free falling transport. His eyes are wide and peering up at Taehyung, so evidently confused and unable to grasp why gravity is pulling him to the ground. The ruby in Jungkook's necklace gleams with a navy hue.

Taehyung remains afloat.

His wings whisk once, twice, and it’s at the third that he snaps out of his stupor.

Taehyung dives down.

He gathers all of his strength to rapidly twist the angle of his body so that he chases the carriage in a plunge through the air. The wind billows against him, grazing across his wings that he beats to give himself more momentum. He then flattens them to his flanks, reducing the drag on his scales while simultaneously increasing his speed.

The pulsations of his heart slow down. His focus zeroes-in on the carriage where Jungkook has disappeared. He extends a talon toward the cart and swings to grab it. 

He misses, the distance still too great. 

He emits an aborted gnarl, an echo of the curse that erupts in his head. 

He tries again.

This time, he feels the wood between his fingers, his claws seizing the carriage and piercing onto the sides.

However the ground is too close now. His speed is too much. He barely has the time to break through the carriage into splinters of wood to safely hold Jungkook in his palm before he crashes down into a resounding boom. He rolls and slides across the ground in a tumble. The trees give under his weight, the trunks shattering like twigs as he presses his right forelimb flushed on his chest. 

He twists on his front and the claws of his free fore and back talons bore into the ground. They dislodge pieces of grass and rocks, sending them flying on the wake he rakes. He slowly curbs down to a halt.

Taehyung’s heart is wildly trashing in his chest now, its palpitations erratic and pulsing in his veins. Blood hollers in his ears, an echo of the warning roar threatening to break free from his mouth.

This was a trap, he thinks. 

The marriage, the alliance. 

This was all a trap, and Taehyung has fallen for it once more.

The first thing that his brain registers is pain: imploding everywhere in his body, rendering it impossible to pin an exact point. Then it's the alarm bells ringing between his ears. Before they swallow him whole, he stretches his wings, jerking them this and that way. 

There’s no throe in them. 

No broken or partially fractured bone. Nothing aside from bruises that will inevitably bloom from the impact. They're fine. He's fine.

Air leaves Taehyung’s lungs when the anguish lessens.

He feels something move in the tight grip of his talon. He unfolds it, uncurling his claws and fingers.

Jungkook lies at the center of Taehyung’s palm in a mess of broken wood. A grimace etches his face before his gaze locks with Taehyung’s, yards above him. The Prince’s eyes still hold this agitated disorientation in them, and Taehyung is certain that his own expression mirrors it. 

Was this really a trap? But why would they risk the Prince's life?

Taehyung surveys their surroundings as he ponders on whether or not to crush the Prince in his talon.

He can see the pieces of the now destroyed carriage scattered around, with what's left of the ropes burnt on each end. The ground in front of him is a flattened mess of trees and upturned soil that stretches over 200 yards.

A growl crawls at the back of Taehyung’s throat. The rumble is low, echoed through the intact parts of the forest.

A strangled noise commands his attention. He casts his gaze down on Jungkook who, for the first time since Taehyung has met him, seems out of depth. Scared, even. And Taehyung would find pleasure in terrifying a human if his mind hadn't been preoccupied by attack. His nerves prickle to life as the trail of spikes on his spine shivers in anticipation.

All of a sudden, the alarm on Jungkook’s face is replaced by a frigid scowl. He sits up and twists to peer behind him.

Taehyung looks forward.

There’s a group of four dragons flying closer to the ground, and Taehyung's turmoil grows.

Jungkook aptly jumps down the feet separating Taehyung’s forelimb from the ground while Taehyung rises on his talons. His tail snaps on one side, stilling there a moment before whipping on the opposite side as he watches the dragonborns.

When he does not recognize the first two that land, Taehyung tucks his wings against his flanks, his tail immobile. He shuffles on his spot to stand over Jungkook, framing the Prince with his fore talons that find an anchor into the soil. Taehyung hunkers down and he lowers his stance and head with a continuous snarl, his upper lip curving upward. He can feel the growl boom within him, about to be intercepted by a staccato, but he waits. 

Just a little longer.

A hiss commands Taehyung's gaze that falls on Jungkook.

It takes a few seconds for Taehyung to realize where the sound comes from, the creature — snake — barely visible in the darkness of the night sky and faint moon rays. The serpent coils around Jungkook's shoulders and right arm, its length and width rivaling that of a boa. Its head turns and lifts, as though to peer at Taehyung, but the eyes are closed.

Then, it vanishes as swiftly as it appeared.

Chapter Text

The two last dragons land, and with them, Taehyung falls quiet.

He finally recognizes who they are, more specifically the ice dragon that shifts to human and walks forward with a misplaced assurance. The other three follow suit, chuckling as they converse among each other.

“Hey, Taehyung! Enjoyed our trick?” One of them shouts.

“We thought we’d give you and your betrothed a warm welcome,” Woobin adds. “I hope we didn’t spook you too badly. You seemed quite distraught.”

Woobin, Minho and the other two pause a couple feet away from the Prince.

Taehyung prowls, the ire quivering and kept alive by the prideful grin on Woobin’s face. He looms further over Jungkook, so much so that his chest brushes against the Prince's crown.

“A pleasure to meet you, my Prince. Welcome to Vanae.” A sharp grin displays Woobin's teeth. He bows, the motion anything but respectful. “We thought we’d give you our rite of passage, a fairly common practice for our kind." He straightens up, a hand tucked in his trousers’ pockets while the other settles on Jungkook’s shoulder that he pats. “Your first true flight, so to speak.”

Jungkook looks unimpressed, to Taehyung’s delight. There’s a moue of boredom on the Prince’s face that isn’t entirely erased by the curve of his lips. “What a terrific flight," he deadpans. "I've enjoyed it thoroughly, however. More particularly the unexpected skydiving toward the end. Thank you…”

Woobin's composure falters before it strengthens anew. “Choi Woobin.”

“Thank you, Choi Woobin. I’ll make sure to remember your name in case I need some additional diving lessons."

While Taehyung is learning that the Prince thrives in playing pretense, Taehyung does not share a figment of the patience Jungkook is showing. He shifts to human, landing on Jungkook’s left. Then he unceremoniously snatches Woobin by the collar of his shirt to shove him away from the Prince and slam the dragonborn against a tree.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” 

Woobin’s friends bring forth their lightning or fire.

Taehyung tightens his grip, his glare riveted on the idiotic fool. He goes through his imaginary roulette in response. He doesn’t grant Woobin’s friends a look when he flicks a hand in their direction. The three men are shoved away and stumble on their back. He extends his arm toward them, and the muscles in his fingers tremble, straining under the pressure of his breath of force to keep the three dragonborns down.

“Relax.” Woobin's hands shoot up. “We wouldn’t have let the Prince splatter to death. We saw you go for him before us and figured we’d let you do the job."

A crack erupts. 

Taehyung isn’t certain if it’s from a rock or one of Minho’s bones breaking under the weight of Taehyung’s arcane. He should let go of the three dragonborns, because with the force that he exerts on them, something as simple as breathing can become nigh impossible, but he does not care enough to do so quite yet.

“I’ll lay it on slowly and simply so that even you can understand it,” Taehyung starts. His fingers curl tauter and with them bring another snap of something . “I know you like to play and harass because this is all you’re good for, aside from being your father’s whiny little lackey.”

“Don’t fucking—”

The tree trunk winces and crackles in protest when Taehyung presses Woobin harder against it. “Do not ever do anything like that again or I swear to the Elders I’ll tear your head apart from your body as I’ve been wanting to for years. Do you understand?”

Anger flashes in Woobin’s eyes, betrayed by the flakes of ice creeping up his neck. “Yeah, I won’t."

“This goes for your friends too.” Taehyung releases the three men on the ground who gasp and cough as they sit up. “Don’t talk to the human prince or play any of your fucking games with him. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Woobin grunts.

Taehyung lets go of Woobin. He watches him go to his friends to help them up, and Taehyung can’t tame the satisfaction that blooms in him at the way Minho clutches his left arm against his chest.

“Bye Jungkook,” Woobin says with a smile, turning around to walk backward. “I hope we’ll get to know each other. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Taehyung’s hand twitches. “ Leave. ”

Woobin and his friends shift to their dragon selves, and the group flies off with barked roars.

There’s a turmoil of emotions that storms within Taehyung.

First is the blazing anger, born from Woobin’s trick and the consequences that could have been disastrous. Then it’s the lingering upset of the risks Taehyung had to take, of how he could have possibly ruptured a bone in his wings in his effort to rescue the Prince.

The concern coalesces next. 

Uncanny because it’s directed at his own well-being, but also Jungkook’s?

Taehyung shakes his head. He can't evince any sort of empathy for humans anymore. He's just tired and in pain. 

One of his hands shoots to his shoulder to massage away the soreness in it.

Fingers graze his arm.

He recoils from them and his head darts to glare at the Prince.

“Are you hurt?” Jungkook says.

Worries?

“You’re the one who fell,” Taehyung retorts, perhaps more harshly than the question warrants.

“I’m fine. You caught me in time. But your shoulder—”

“Is peachy.” Taehyung drops his hand from his arm.

“Who were they?”

“You don’t want to know.” Taehyung sees the way Jungkook’s mouth opens to surely utter a retort but promptly closes. Taehyung sighs. “The cowardly one I slammed against the tree is Woobin. He’s one of Seungwon’s sons." He figures that if someone should know, it’s the man that had once been the pig's betrothed.

“That explains a lot," Jungkook huffs. "I’ve never met him or any of Seungwon's sons during my visits.”

“Clearly for the best.”

“What about the one whose arm you broke?”

“Minho. An idiot and Woobin’s best friend."

“How did you do it?” There’s a certain curiosity in Jungkook's eyes, laced with this absence of dread again. “He was feet away from you. The other two as well, yet you… You held them down with your hand. From afar”

“Arcane,” Taehyung whispers with a wave of his fingers and a snarky half smile.

Jungkook's lips purse around a half frustrated pout. “Yes. But what kind of arcane, exactly, is what I’m wondering."

“Woobin is just as bad as his father," Taehyung disregards. "Better to stay away from him, but then again, you do whatever you want to do as long as you don't cause me troubles.”

“I see.” The Prince must understand that Taehyung won’t expand any further because he says “How do we continue our journey?”

“I turn. You sit in my palm. That’s how."

“That doesn’t sound very safe...”

“Tough shit. However, before that.” Taehyung reduces the distance between them. “How about you explain to me why you had a damn snake on your shoulders that wasn't there before?”

Jungkook's hand flies to his necklace. A sheepish smile paints his lips as he emits an awkward chuckle. "About that, I forgot to mention I brought a friend with me that I will tell you more about, but later when it will be the two of us. She's a bit angsty right now with everything that has happened, so it's wiser to wait for her to cool off."

"What kind of damn friend is that?"

"An important one."

Taehyung scrutinizes the necklace Jungkook is clutching onto. The jewelry appears mundane. The chain is golden and quite thin, the centerpiece consisting of an equally thin golden armature coiled around a pear shaped ruby. He can tell the precious gem is of high quality, perfectly polished and cut, however when it catches a ray of the moon, the same navy hue echoing the one of the snake's scales shines in the edges of the ruby.

“Should we—” Jungkook pauses. When the Prince never finishes his sentence, Taehyung glances back at him. Jungkook rummages through the purse slung across his chest. “No.” He twirls left and right and he drops down on his knees to frantically drag his fingers through the soil.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“My handbook. It’s gone. It was in the pouch but it's not there anymore.”

Taehyung has half a mind to discard the issue, but in a feat of altruism that will hopefully be rewarded by draconic deities with endless fortune and prosperity, he opts to help the Prince.

He lightly taps Jungkook's knee with his shoe. “Get up."

“Have you found it?” Jungkook rises on his feet, expectant.

“Let me smell you.”

Jungkook blinks fast. He stares at Taehyung. His head tilts to the side, kind of like a hatchling, and if the Prince were a dragonborn, Taehyung can tell the ears and tail would twitch in confusion.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Dragonborns tend to have acute senses. I’m one of them."

“Oh.”

“I smell you, then I can track the book,” Taehyung continues, providing more obvious explanations that aren’t needed at all. “It’ll probably still have some remnants of your scent on it."

“It will. I always have it on me.” Jungkook's hands fold in front of him, fingers fiddling together. “How, huh... How do you want to smell me?”

Taehyung would like to, quite frankly, dissipate into thin air if possible.

Or perhaps fusing with the soil would be a better option. His body would then become one with the ground and could even be used as a rich fertilizer.

“Your wrist,” Taehyung ultimately chooses to say.

“Oh.” Jungkook lifts a hand between he and Taehyung, the motion elegant, as if awaiting to be greeted by a kiss on the knuckles. “I thought you’d smell my neck instead."

Taehyung's nose wrinkle in disgust. “No.” He seizes the Prince’s wrist a tad rougher than calculated and turns it.

“Why not? Wouldn’t my scent be more potent there?”

“Scenting the neck is for family members or mates. You’re none of that.”

Taehyung has evidently struck a sensitive chord in Jungkook. A flicker of hurt sneaks through the mask the Prince wears, hidden seconds later by apathy.

Taehyung shrugs it off. He brings Jungkook's inner wrist higher. The burnt floral scent imbues Taehyung’s nostrils but there’s a bitterness to it this time, sharp and acrid. This is enough for him to catalog the scent. He drops Jungkook’s arm and scans the field, smelling the air.

“You’re like a bloodhound.”

Taehyung, unsure on whether or not he has properly heard the remark, slowly pivots. “Did you just compare me to a dog, you damn viper?”

“Not purposefully.”

Taehyung considers purposefully forming a ball of mud to throw it on the Prince’s face or expensive attire, but the latter is already soiled from the fall and search of the book.

Taehyung scouts the area and finds the tome after a few minutes of exploration. He digs into the soil, seeing it buried there. He glances above his shoulder. The Prince is occupied with his own searches. Using this moment of inattention, Taehyung discreetly sifts through the handbook. 

It's blank, no traces of ink or erased writings discernible in any of the pages.

“Is that it?”

Taehyung does not startle, but he does tense on his spot. He stands and shows his discovery to the Prince.

“Oh my God.” Jungkook snatches the book. He inspects it, taking note of the roughened spine and of the otherwise pristine condition. He exhales a long, heavy sigh.

“One hell of a reaction for an empty book."

“It’s important to me.”

That Taehyung has fathomed. It's exactly what feeds the nagging voice at the back of his head, and he tucks the information in this box he has opened in his mind about everything that he finds odd regarding Amaris’ Prince.

Taehyung wordlessly shifts to his dragon self and plops his right forelimb on the ground, palm up. Jungkook slides the necklace underneath his dress shirt then he stills, his gaze darting between Taehyung’s muzzle and the elongated, acute claws of the talon.

It takes an impatient gesture of Taehyung’s head toward his talon for Jungkook to climb on the palm. The Prince sits crossed legs, making himself comfortable there, but the stiffness in his shoulders betrays his apprehension. When Taehyung takes off, Jungkook scrambles to wrap an arm around the gnarled and scaly thumb. 

Not that Taehyung would let the Prince fall to his death again. 

Maybe.

Taehyung’s house finally — finally — appears in the distance.

He lands in the garden, and after letting Jungkook descend from his palm, he helps Jimin settle down with the carriages and carts.

“Now, what happened to you both?” Jimin wonders.

“Woobin."

“What?”

“He apparently wanted to give the Prince a ‘warm welcome’. He burnt the carriage’s ropes. It fell. I caught the Prince just in time and dealt with the other asshat."

“This annoying bastard. Are you alright, Jungkook?" Jimin worries. "That must have been terrifying.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook replies with a small smile. “Taehyung thankfully got me before anything irreparable could happen to me.”

“Thank the Elders,” Jimin sighs. “This little shit will hear from me when—”

“Where are Mom and Dad?” Taehyung interrupts.

“They should be there in twenty or so."

Taehyung nods and slumps down on the grass. He surveys Jungkook who's examining what he can see of the forest. The Prince shuffles on his heels to canvas the garden and the house. He seems unexpectedly at ease for someone so far away from home, thrust into the foreign land of dragonborns.

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook utters with a voice mellowed by an evident tiredness.

“There’s a bunch of pretty spots in Vanae,” Jimin grins, walking up to the Prince. “I’ll have to show some of them to you.”

“That would be lovely. The house is gorgeous too, very open. It's a nice change.”

“This one is Dahee and Junnie’s house. Yours and Taehyung’s is far down over there,” Jimin points out. “Although your own home was even more spacious than this one.”

“The garden makes for a nice façade for how confined the life at Amaris’ citadel is."

Taehyung is stunned by the honesty.

Whatever strict upbringing the Prince may have undergone, being away from his parents has a nearly arcanic effect on his mood. The mask is still present, however less intense, the edges of it rounded by a palpable happiness.

“Good thing you left that hell hole, then,” Jimin surmises and Jungkook chuckles in agreement.

Taehyung lays on his back, a yawn torn out of him as he stretches his arms over his head. His lids fall shut. He hears some rustling when Jimin loiters next to him. Taehyung cracks an eye open.

Jungkook has also found a seat on the ground but unlike Taehyung, the Prince is gracefully settled, his legs folded under him to use his feet as a cushion.

The three of them wait for Taehyung’s parents.

Jimin and Jungkook discuss together about matters Taehyung doesn’t bother listening to or participating in.

Taehyung must have dozed off at one point because he’s woken up by a kick on the leg.

“Rise and shine,” Jimin announces. “The parents are back. We need to help them with the carts.”

Taehyung groans but he stands — even if wobbly and lazily — and he trails after Jimin, the two turning to their dragon forms.

It takes some time to safely deposit the carts in front of the family house, but it’s completed half an hour later, the group exhausted, especially Junhyun who looks one step away from falling asleep right then and there.

“Are you faring well, Jungkook? Not too anxious about being here?” Dahee wonders with a gentle pat on Jungkook’s back.

“I’m alright. I believe it’ll be interesting."

“There it is again.” Taehyung doesn’t want to actively antagonize the Prince, but he also can’t repress the comment.

Jungkook peeps at Taehyung. “Pardon?”

“The half truths half lies,” Taehyung says. Dahee sends a glare his way while she walks toward the house with Junhyun and Jimin.

“I’m not lying."

“But you’re not being honest." Taehyung punctuates this with a glance at the Prince's necklace.

“And you—” Jungkook swallows, probably both his saliva and what retorts that is about to escape his mouth. “Nothing. Apologies. I’ll try to be more candid with you.”

“If you can, that is.”

“I can do anything my betrothed wants."

Taehyung doesn’t entertain the answer with one of his own, lest he snaps and starts an argument — more than he already has.

“We will leave everything out here for the night and take care of it tomorrow morning,” Dahee declares when the Prince and Taehyung enter the house. “And no shoes in the house, boys. That goes for you as well, Jungkook."

“We have more than enough rooms to accommodate everyone,” Junhyun nods

“There won’t be a risk of any of the carts being gone by the morning?” Jungkook asks.

Taehyung kicks his boots off his feet. “Dragonborns aren’t thieves like humans."

“You did steal my yogurt when we were twelve though,” Jimin, the horrible friend that he is, provides.

Everyone bursts into laughter, even Jungkook who joins in the hilarity that Taehyung would squash with a quip if he wasn’t too fatigued to remain standing, let alone formulate any tasteful jab. “I’m showering first."

“We have a second bathroom you can use, Jungkook, if…”

Taehyung is out of earshot when he strides up the stairs. 

He arrives inside his bedroom, and he doesn’t mean to slam the door, but it does close louder than intended. He marches to his bed where he sags. His hands rub up and down his face, carding through his hair and his nails scratch at his scalp to secure himself in the present moment.

It hadn’t happened in a while, a fright attack.

Taehyung has been significantly better at dealing with these since that forsaken day a few years back. He can handle crowds of dragonborns without any difficulty now, but it evidently doesn’t extend to humans yet. If ever, really.

The humiliation and shame arising from the fact that the maids but also his betrothed have seen him distressed, rooted in place like a fucking fool still runs hot in his veins. The Prince will ask questions, whether to Taehyung himself, his parents or Jimin. People always do. Both out of concern, fear, and a morbid interest of ‘What could possibly terrify the brash Kim Taehyung?’

Taehyung clicks his tongue.

At least he's safe, he reassures himself when his throat clogs up at some flashing memories. He’s safe and home, away from the nightmare that had once torn his life asunder.

Laughter lulls from downstairs — Junhyun and Jimin’s —, and he focuses on this. On him and his family being away from humans.

Most humans, he corrects when a foreign voice responds to Junhyun.

Once up on his feet, Taehyung rummages through his dresser to pluck a pair of loose, gray cotton pants along with a pair of underwear and a worn out black shirt. He makes a leisure job of his shower, thoroughly cleaning himself to get rid of all the human touches and smell that cling onto him.

His hair is damp when he exits the bathroom and collides with someone.

“Apologies.” Jungkook steps back and bows.

He fucking bows.

Taehyung could care about making the Prince feel welcomed here, but that would imply putting aside his hatred for humans, and he can’t muster that kind of acceptance.

“What are you doing up here?” Taehyung snips.

“I was on my way to the vacant bathroom.” Jungkook is clad in a pajama too large for him, taken from Junhyun’s wardrobe. This infuriating obedient demeanor envelops Jungkook, his shoulders withdrawn in coyness. “Should I not? If you want me to go downstairs, I will, my betrothed.”

Something deep within Taehyung withers at the appellation. He can only stare at Jungkook in a mix of aversion — and embarrassment, to his horror.

The anger that he thought to be washed down the drain during his shower boils back to life. It’s aimed at the Queen and King, for the vile way they may have raised and disciplined their son into being this docile doll. However it’s also directed at Jungkook for putting up with it. Taehyung knows that he should evince some more pity at least, but he can't bring himself to. After all, the Prince is, or will be a revolting and cruel human like each of them is.

Like him.

“So what? If I order you to not step a foot upstairs, you won’t?"

“Yes.”

“Is that so?” Taehyung stalks near Jungkook. The Prince retreats until his back hits the wall, and Taehyung props his right palm next to Jungkook’s head, caging him there as their eyes lock together. “And what if I tell you to leave? To sit outside with only a water bowl in front of you, attached to a tree with a leash like a damn dog. Would you do it?”

Jungkook’s jaw is set tight, the muscles shifting under the skin. “Yes, my betrothed.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But you are my betrothed.” Jungkook says with a lilt to his timber. His head lolls forward, a pretense at being demure, but it does not detract Taehyung from the calculating waters that oscillate underneath the mask. “Or rather fiancé.”

“I don’t care. You know my name. Use it.”

“Anything, Taehyung.”

“By the Elders.” Taehyung emits a callous chuckle, his fingers constricting on the wall. He fears they might leave indents in it. “Is this really how it’s gonna be from now on? 'Yes Taehyung’ , ‘Of course, Taehyung’ , ‘Anything for you, Taehyung.’ You’ll fucking fold in half at anything I say no matter how inane, egoistical or disgusting it may be?”

“May I—” Jungkook inhales then huffs a puff of air. His hands slide behind his back as he reclines against the wall. “May I speak my mind, please?”

“Yes. Don’t ask.”

“You’re the first man my parents try to wed me with that is decent looking, somewhat civil, and not twice my age or over,” Jungkook starts, and Taehyung taken aback both figuratively and literally as he steps away from the Prince. “I don’t want to endanger that luck by arguing with you after all the misfortune I’ve had so far with the previous suitors.”

“I’m more than decent looking," Taehyung childishly contests.

“You’re also more than a prick.” Jungkook seems surprised by his own outburst because his mouth remains open around a quiet ‘Oh’ before clamping shut.

“Yeah? And what would I be, exactly?”

Curiosity dances in Jungkook’s shifting eyes. He's quiet for a while, however a curl soon forms on his lips. “A bastard, for starters. Not literally, as far as I know, but one nonetheless,” he says with a firmness that gains in certainty the more he speaks. “You’d think the fire you have would warm this bitter heart of yours, but that’s too much effort on your part, isn’t it? You don’t like humans because you consider them revolting and cruel and is it not ironic how the very aspect you hate about us is the one you’ve been targeting me with?”

If Taehyung is completely honest with himself: he’s gobsmacked.

And also a little insulted.

He scoffs — because that’s all he can do, apparently — and he shoves his hands in his pajama pants’ pockets. “Who would’ve thought your friend was correct when he mentioned how much of a handful the prince of Amaris can be. A brat, if you will.”

“I’m not a brat,” Jungkook petulantly mutters. “I’ll still comply with what you ask of me.”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“But—”

“But fucking nothing. You’re not a prisoner here and there isn’t any forced obedience I’m holding over your head no matter what your shitty parents may have said in contradiction. No one is keeping you hostage. I am not. You can run away at any moment and neither would I care or bat an eye at it, but I also wouldn’t be the one to tattletale on your ass.”

“Even if I wished to leave, I can’t run away from my responsibilities.”

“You can. My mom and dad would help you. Jimin would as well, knowing him.” The offer hangs in the air, assured on Taehyung’s side and tentative on Jungkook’s. “But if you don’t want to, then just be yourself, for hell’s sake. And stop being so damn… Bendy.”

“Bendy,” Jungkook echoes with a deadpan look.

“As bendy as this snake of yours that I'm still waiting for you to explain the existence of.”

The Prince’s eyes narrow. “What an odd term.”

“Not as odd as this pretentious, tacky necklace you’re wearing,” Taehyung shoots back. He revels in the displeasure that takes over Jungkook’s face.

“I’ll have you know that—”

“Don’t care. Leave me alone.”

Without a glance back, Taehyung walks down the hallway. He descends the stairs and soon finds his home on The Armchair. He commonly adores it, but right now, he muses about burning it to a crisp.

His favorite recliner reeks of a human.

“Don’t tell me you let the Prince sit in my chair.”

Jimin is pointedly looking away. Everyone is mute, even Taehyung’s parents occupying the kitchen. Junhyun whistles to himself.

“You know that it’s mine. It’s my ass that is imprinted and shaped on it."

“So territorial.” Jimin pinches Taehyung’s thigh with his toes. Taehyung smacks the nasty foot away.

“You know better than to be so self-centered,” Junhyun scolds, threatening him with the spatula he has in hand.

“Not with humans."

“Make yourself useful and help us cook instead of whining,” Dahee dismisses.

Taehyung tuts but obeys, joining his parents in the open kitchen and dining area.

The preparations are accompanied by an animated chit-chat, the roles being delegated to someone else whenever one of them has to vacate to shower.

Taehyung is currently involved in a debate with Jimin about the relatable flaws of a character in a book series they have been reading. As he more often than not is, Taehyung's distracted, meaning that he notices the presence of the Prince only when he swivels to the side and stumbles face to face with Jungkook.

“The hell are you doing here?” Taehyung reflexively sputters.

Jungkook arches a brow. “I moved here?”

“I know, get out of my way,” Taehyung says in one breath, feeling idiotic for having temporarily forgotten about The Invasion of his home.

“Have a seat, dear.” Dahee, installed at the end of the dining table, gestures for Jungkook to settle down. “Dinner is ready, and I don’t know about you, but I am famished.”

“It smells incredible,” Jungkook smiles and takes a place on Jimin’s left.

“It’s a family recipe,” Junhyun says, situated in front of Jimin. “We will share it with you one day.”

Taehyung thinks about springing up and booming a solemn 'I object' , however before he can make a decision, the Prince precedes him.

“I’d be most grateful.”

Taehyung's nostrils flare when he exhales. He lays the large pot of noodles in the middle of the table, then the second one and he plops down on his father’s right. Just like the first fare he had shared with the Prince, Taehyung faces Jungkook in some sort of unsought candlelight date, a train of thought Taehyung forcibly stomps.

Taehyung’s attention is reduced to alleviating the grumbles of his empty stomach. He takes his task seriously, not bothering with any grace or measured pace as he wolfs down his meal. He soon ends up scraping the sauce from his plate and supplies himself with a second serving. 

“Did you enjoy the flight with Taehyung?” Dahee asks after a while. “Aside from the debacle with Woobin.”

“It was…”

Amidst his chewing from where he’s hunched over his plate, cheeks bulging around a bite, Taehyung glances up at Jungkook.

The Prince’s gaze strays away from the table, before it falls on Dahee again. “It was freeing."

“Is it, isn’t it?” Dahee smiles.

“Being a dragonborn comes with a lot of this,” Junhyun nods then takes a sip of his water.

“Freedom?” Jungkook inquires.

“Yes. It is possibly what we cherish the most.”

“I can imagine,” Jungkook chuckles. “Being able to fly and go wherever you want, whenever you want and with whoever... It sounds like a precious dream.”

“Now you have us to fly you around,” Jimin grins. 

Taehyung can only shake his head at his friend’s naïve amicability.

Jungkook bobs his head. He digs an elbow on the table to support his cheek on the back of his hand. He’s peering down at his empty plate, dragging around a tiny fleck of meat with his chopsticks.

“It goes without saying, Jungkook, however if you need or want anything, please do not hesitate to tell us no matter what it may be,” Dahee states. “You are no stranger here, nor is your company unwanted.”

“Someone would disagree with that,” Jungkook quips.

“Yup,” Taehyung says without missing a beat.

“Don’t pay attention to this moody child,” Dahee chides.

“And most importantly, give back to Taehyung as much as he gives to you,” Junhyun laughs.

“Perhaps," Jungkook agrees.

“With what you said to me earlier," Taehyung begins, "I have doubts believing you’ll give back anything. Are you even capable of—”

“And what do you expect from me, Taehyung?” The name is said with a venom that has Taehyung’s upper lip twitch around the hint of a snarl. “Since I was born, all I’ve known is to obey. Obey and never do, say or be what is not expected from the future king of Amaris.”

Taehyung isn’t the only one baffled by Jungkook’s admission, if the terse silence that befalls in the room is any given.

“You’re more than that veneer of compliance you adorn," Taehyung begins. “I saw it during that dinner in Amaris. I’ve seen it up there.” He nods toward the stairs. “It can’t be that hard to not be a damn doll when you’re well aware of how to be one.”

“It is difficult when I can lose everything I’ve worked for and more."

“And what is it that you have and could lose, hm? Status? Wealth? You clearly don’t have a family, so it can’t be that.”

“I have one. You’d know if you asked.”

“Oh you mean those two friends of yours? But what else, really?” Taehyung presses because he has to know what the Prince is hiding. “You could take them with you and escape the Queen and King’s clutches. I bet you’re smart enough to steal money from your parents and comfortably live off it.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Jungkook derides with a disdainful twist of his mouth, and the strands of hair brushing over his eyes do nothing to mitigate the iciness he pierces Taehyung with. “You know nothing.”

“I know something."

“Really, now?”

“You’re a coward.”

Jungkook stills. The knuckles of his fist turn white.

“You could change your life. Could run away with your friends, but that’s too much effort on your part, isn’t it, Viper? Because you’d have to make a crucial decision on your own for yourself, something you plainly aren’t used to. And it’s easier to wallow in your misery and feel sorry for yourself. It’s less trouble, less work. Less thinking.”

“The same can be said about you. You hide your cowardice behind a mindless rancor.”

“Perhaps,” Taehyung concedes. The Prince isn’t entirely wrong. “But one of the differences between dragonborns and humans is that when a human is scared, they hurt. They ally to slaughter what they’re afraid of and can’t comprehend. If there's a lesson I’ve learned from your kind, it’s that fear sows wrath, and wrath reaps destruction.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Sure,” Taehyung scoffs. “You—”

“You’re misunderstanding me."

“Enlighten me.”

“I’m not scared of you or dragonborns. I’m not scared of what anyone may do to me, or at least not as much as what you may believe.” There’s a shine in Jungkook’s eyes, the mist in them kindled by a fiery anger.

“What do you fear, then?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I have an inkling that what you’re afraid of may turn against my family and I.”

“It may be hard to believe for you, but the world does not revolve around you."

“Then it wouldn’t be a problem to share it with us.”

“Taehyung,” Dahee steps in, the first one to break the escalating argument. “Stop.”

“Nah, I want to know. I’m not putting up with the whole compliance bullshit that is only there to hide whatever secret or scheme he’s preparing.”

“Jungkook has just arrived here,” Dahee sternly says. “Have some decen—”

“I’m scared of my parents.”

Eyes drift on Jungkook at his intervention.

“Damn. I never would have fucking guessed that one,” Taehyung answers with faux surprise. “Why are you scared of them?”

Jungkook fidgets on his seat. “They’re not—” He raises a hand to fiddle with his necklace, rolling the gem between his fingers. “My parents aren’t… good. It sounds foolish and frail, but it’s true.” His gaze roams across Taehyung and his family. “They act as though they have our people’s welfare in mind, but I know they don’t. They don’t seek to help or provide. They seek to use, plunder and control, in spite of the opulence they bask in already.”

Jimin's brows furrow. “What are you saying, Jungkook?”

“The first suitors I had been presented to were humans. However one day, the Queen and King became adamant about acquiring a spot at your draconic council and finding a dragonborn betrothed for me. I don’t know why, exactly, but—”

“I’ve told you he and his parents couldn’t be trusted.” Taehyung fights off the impulsive urge to do something he’d regret, like burning down Amaris’ citadel. “Every damn human is the same. Bunch of greedy pigs."

“Jungkook.” Dahee rests her glass next to her plate. She fixates the Prince with poise and cautiousness. “Do you believe your parents are pursuing the path of their ancestors?”

The loaded question floats in the room for a moment.

“Perhaps? I’m not sure,” Jungkook ultimately replies while picking apart his napkin. “I don’t hold my parents close to my heart at all, but I don’t know if they are inhuman enough to want to instigate a second Great War. Or worse.”

“You seem to nurture some doubts, however,” Junhyun says before Taehyung can. “What makes you think your parents may want to conquer more lands? Dragonborns’ lands, specifically.”

“She told you we have two warlocks, correct?” Three nods answer. “One of them is a friend of mine, Yoongi. I don’t know who the other one is. I never saw them and I've only heard of their visits in passing. But that second warlock is— They only have their best interest in mind. They’re like my parents, which is probably why they have been working together for years.”

“How would you know if you’ve never met this warlock,” Taehyung questions.

“I know,” Jungkook affirms. “You’ll have to trust me on that.”

Jungkook’s evasive reply doesn’t alleviate Taehyung’s suspicions regarding the something the Prince is concealing about himself and that has been bothering Taehyung since day one.

“Can we, Jungkook? Can we trust you?” Dahee asks, and isn’t that a one billion coin question.

“I’m obviously not supposed to tell you all I’ve shared, yet I have. As much as I loathe the Queen, she is right when she says that a token of trust must be given in order to receive one.”

“What are you actually supposed to do? Because your parents gave you a job aside from being Taehyung’s betrothed," Jimin deduces, "and I feel like it’s linked to why you think your parents may prepare a coup against dragonborns.”

Jungkook exhales.

There it is, right? The Prince will disclose what machination he’s sheltering, what truth lies below the surface.

“I’m supposed to look for something,” Jungkook starts, his voice barely above a whisper. “Investigate.”

Taehyung straightens up. “Something?”

Jungkook peers at him and nods. “An object that would reside in a dragonborns' land, according to my parents.”

“What, exactly?”

“Some sort of map, or information leading to said map that will then guide me to something no one knows the existence of, supposedly,” Jungkook explains. “Again, everything I say here is from the bits of knowledge my parents gave me, which unfortunately isn’t much. I'm not certain this map exists.”

“A map, you say?” Dahee ponders, her index tapping on her chin. “A map to where?”

“The primordial stone.”

Taehyung makes a noncommittal sound of confusion. “The fucking what?”

“The primordial stone,” Jungkook reiterates. “This is what my parents refer it to as. I don’t know more about it and have no idea about what it could do.”

“Have you ever heard of this stone, Darling?” Junhyun drapes a hand over Dahee’s fingers to meet her lost gaze.

Dahee shakes her head. "Never."

“They said this stone is ancient enough where even your…” Jungkook trails off. “I’m not certain what you call them, but where your oldest dragonborns wouldn’t be aware of this stone’s existence.”

“You mean the Elders?” Jimin exclaims. “Even they wouldn’t know?”

“Apparently. I don’t know what my parents’ end goal is, which is what annoys me the most. However this primordial stone must have some arcanic properties. What it will grant them is where the fog in their request confuses me.”

“But you’re fairly certain that it won’t be anything good."

As Taehyung had assumed with this charade of a marriage.

“I know they—” Jungkook’s lips pinch together. His face knits into a deep frown, his body withdrawing in itself. “I know they abhor dragonborns, and I don’t mean a mundane dislike one can have for a once rival kingdom. They hate your kind so, so greatly.” His eyes nervously dart on the four dragonborns. “It all stems from our family’s history, from how dragonborns are portrayed in it and our books.”

Dahee pensively hums. “You don’t share those views?”

“No. I never, ever have.” Jungkook declares and looks almost offended that Dahee would even utter this query. “I actually—”

Taehyung is dizzied by the whiplashes the Prince elicits in him. Jungkook's behavior jumps from assertive to hesitant while passing by indifferent. In the present moment, Jungkook’s expression is colored with reddening ears.

“I’ve always found dragonborns fascinating,” Jungkook confides, the words mumbled. “My parents never allowed me to buy books relating to your history or customs. They never let me speak to a dragonborn, aside from my potential suitors, but—” He deflates when his gaze bumps with Taehyung’s. “Anyway. It doesn’t matter. It's not important.”

“How come you don’t feel the way your parents do about us?"

“I was always a curious kid. I’d question everything I’d see, read or hear. With the upbringing I’ve had, I’ve never loved my parents, and I can’t trust what I can’t love.”

This might be the first time Taehyung agrees with the Prince on a matter.

“My friends are to be thanked as well,” Jungkook continues. “They’ve always provided me with an outside and unbiased view about dragonborns, especially Yoongi.”

“Yoongi is the warlock, is that correct?” Junhyun asks and Jungkook nods. “Can he be trusted?”

“With everything I have. Yoongi likes dragonborns, if it’s any reassurance to you. He’d bring me notes and sketches about them behind my parents’ back. I know he has worked with some of you as well, away from the Queen and King’s surveillance.”

“They said ‘detain’."

Jungkook's head lolls to the side. “Uh?”

“Your parents. They said they were detaining two warlocks,” Taehyung clarifies. “Why use this term? It’s been in my mind the whole time.”

“For the second warlock, I don’t know. But Yoongi… The Queen knows Yoongi loves me. She always used that to her advantage.”

“What a slimy bitch," Taehyung mutters to himself.

“Kim Taehyung,” Dahee chastises him.

Jungkook bursts into laughter, sending Taehyung through another whiplash when his mirthful gaze flits on Taehyung. “She certainly is, that I can agree with you.” 

“Your friends aren’t safe at the citadel, if so,” Junhyun contemplates, driving the discussion back to its main subject.

“They aren’t. When I was living in Amaris, I could at least detract my parents from Namjoon and Yoongi, but I can’t anymore. I’m worried about my friends being left alone at the citadel.”

“We should bring them to Vanae. As soon as possible,” Dahee tells Junhyun who makes a sound of agreement.

“Namjoon’s departure from Amaris is already planned. It’s for Yoongi that it will be a tad more complex,” Jungkook frowns. “My parents are quite intent on maintaining any ownership they may have over something or someone." 

“I see.” Dahee pushes herself up. She rounds the table and pauses next to Jungkook to crouch. Her lips are curled upward in a kind smile. “We will figure this out, Jungkook.” She cups Jungkook’s hands with her own. “About this primordial stone you spoke of, and about your friend. I promise you. Know that we deeply appreciate your token of trust.”

Jungkook responds with a wobbly smile. “Thank you.”

Taehyung is left to wonder if he’s the only one with a critically thinking brain.

It’s one of those rare times where reading his mother’s motives is impossible. He can’t tell if she’s truly gobbling up Jungkook’s story, but she’s at least experiencing some consideration for the Prince, which isn’t all surprising, but it still miffs Taehyung.

And so he professes his affront.

“None of you find it strange how easily Jungkook spilled out this so-called confidential knowledge about that primordial stone? No one? Why are you telling us all of this?” Taehyung addresses Jungkook. “You shouldn’t trust us with such sensitive information. I know I wouldn’t. Yet you are, and willingly so. Why?”

Jungkook retrieves his hands from Dahee’s clasp, one of them skidding to the necklace. “Because you asked Sohee’s name, among other observations I've made.”

“Huh?”

“I wish I had also asked for chocolate chips to combat the acidity of that night,” Jungkook quips. Jokes?

“Oh."

“You asked her name.” When Jungkook’s eyes lay on Taehyung, they’re softened with amusement. “You despise humans, yet you still treated Sohee as your equal, just like your parents had to anyone they’ve met at the citadel. It was easy to see that the respect you’ve shown for Sohee and the other helpers had been natural. Not forged.”

Dahee settles on her seat, watching Jungkook as Taehyung and everyone else is.

“It was unexpectedly comforting to see the very kind my parents had warned me about displaying hospitality for a race they would have every right to hate. As you’ve said it yourself," Jungkook continues, "I don’t have much to lose, but the very few I have, I will fiercely protect, and it starts by hindering what plan my parents are orchestrating behind closed doors. It is time for Amaris to not be ruled anymore, but rather guided and cared for.”

The muteness that stretches after Jungkook’s tirade lasts for a while, those at the table meditating in silence.

What Jungkook has said makes sense, in the grand lines of it, but some parts of it still puzzle Taehyung. Like the necklace Jungkook’s hands keep skidding to. It’s small details that Taehyung’s thoughts can’t help but convene on.

"I must inform you that I won't hesitate to rip your body in half if you try anything against my family or myself," Taehyung warns.

"I expect nothing less," Jungkook answers, looking oddly relaxed.

“I hope you know how grateful we are for the trust you have awarded us with, Jungkook,” Junhyun says with a pointed side glance at Taehyung. “And I hope you will do the same with the one we will grant you.”

“Of course. Thank you for believing me. Or thinking of doing so. I just— I know my parents are preparing something and have been for a while. I’d like to stop them, because I fear it may be aimed at dragonborns once more, and I thought with this marriage, with your help, I can, now.”

“Considering that our kind may be at the very core of your parents’ lovely shenanigans,” Dahee says with an unfit levity, “I can assure you that we will do everything we can to aid you in this quest. We will discuss this and the primordial stone with our Elders, then we will see where it leads us.”

“It sounds wise."

“It will have to wait, however, since we have the wedding arrangements to take care of, as well as your integration at Vanae and amongst dragonborns. We should handle one matter at a time,” Junhyun says.

“We should, starting with sleeping,” Dahee mumbles through an inelegant yawn. “I’m exhausted.”

“So am I. It’s been a long time since our last trip.” Junhyun stands, mirrored by his mate. “Jungkook, if you would be kind enough to follow us upstairs, we will show your room for tonight.”

Jungkook springs up. “Oh of course, thank you.”

“You two." Dahee motions between Taehyung and Jimin. "The dishes."

The two friends agree without contesting. 

Taehyung and Jimin rise in turn to collect the plates and cutlery that they pile in the right side of the double bowl sink.

They wait until Dahee, Junhyun and Jungkook are gone to speak.

“So.”

“I don’t trust him,” Taehyung swiftly says.

“I don’t either, but I’m willing to. I don’t see why he’d lie about what he said.”

“To gain our trust, stab us in the back and do whatever his parents truly demand of him.”

“I don’t think he was lying. With what he told us, he’s basically putting a bold, red target on his life, his friends' and his parents. It could backfire on him or provoke another war between dragonborns and humans. I doubt he’d risk that much so carelessly.”

“He keeps giving half truths,” Taehyung rebuts and grabs the loofah sponge to start cleaning the dishes.

“But that doesn’t mean he lied.”

“I find it concerning how blindly you, Mom and Dad are believing the Viper’s tales.”

Jimin shrugs. “Call it a gut feeling.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at the ceiling. “By the Elders. Everyone’s following their gut feeling and it’ll end up with each one of you being disemboweled and then who will have to tidy up the mess and say ‘I told you so’ to your corpses? Me.”

“You’re being overly judgmental because he’s a human. If he was a dragonborn, you’d give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Yes. And?”

“And, just try to be nice to him, okay?” Jimin finds Taehyung’s gaze. “It must be hard on him to have been alienated all his life in his own home, and here too now.”

Taehyung pensively hums, pretending to mull over. “I’ll opt for something other than kindness.”

“Which is?”

“Blissful ignorance.”

Jimin smacks the back of Taehyung’s head. “You’re such a little shit.”

“Yup. Now rinse and dry those. They won’t do it themselves.”

Ready to brush his teeth and head to bed to, hopefully, wake up the next day and be struck by the realization that today has been nothing but a figment of his imagination, Taehyung swings the bathroom door open.

He does not yell when he falls face to face with Jungkook, but a strangled noise catches at the back of his throat and dies there.

Jungkook is staring at Taehyung like a deer in a headlight, poised on a wooden stool. His shirt is off, laying limply on his lap.

Taehyung should leave.

It’d be the decent thing to do — to close the door and exit — because even if he does not like Jungkook, he will always respect someone’s privacy.

However Taehyung’s gaze is riveted on a series of odd appearances: there are two pink and raw scratches on Jungkook’s right forearm, starting from the elbow and down to the wrist, with another more circular on the bicep. Next are the purple-ish bruises blooming on Jungkook’s ribs, waist and abdomen, a few of them somewhat round while others are elongated and strangely paralleled.

“What the fuck.”

“Close the door!” Jungkook whisper-yells and shoots up.

Taehyung must have left his last remaining brain cell outside when he had walked down the corridor because instead of vacating the room like a sensible person would, he shuts the door behind his back, still very much inside the bathroom that he should leave . 

Jungkook is gawking, his mouth open and brows furrowed. He glances down before looking up again.

Taehyung wonders if the Prince can see Taehyung’s brain cell rolling in from under the door.

“I meant outside ?”

“Obviously.” Eager to detract the Prince from Taehyung's miscalculation and swelling awkwardness, Taehyung says “What the hell happened to you.”

“Does it matter?”

“Was this your parents?” Taehyung asks, ever the tactful man.

“No.” Jungkook slumps down on the stool.

Taehyung examines Jungkook’s chest a second time, the toned muscles on the pecs and navel disturbed by the bruises. “Then how did you get these?”

“It happened when you caught me. During the fall.”

Well.

Taehyung did have a tight grip on Jungkook back then, strong enough to break the carriage, and it’s these splinters that must have scraped Jungkook’s skin. Taehyung hadn’t thought of that up till now. He gnaws on his inner cheek. “You told me you were fine.”

“Because I am.”

“You visibly aren’t.”

“I thought you didn't care about me?” Jungkook turns on the faucet to wet a cotton pad. “And why are you still in the bathroom?”

“So the doll has some bite to him, huh?”

In a way that Taehyung can only describe as ‘sassy’, the Prince juts his chin up to peer up at Taehyung. “You told me to not pretend to be someone else as much,” Jungkook mutters, defiance swimming in his gaze. "And don't call me 'doll'. I don't like it."

“Whatever you say, Viper.”

Taehyung pivots, opens the door and closes it on his path. He trudges to the second bathroom where he goes through his nightly routine, his parents and Jimin already tucked in bed and asleep.

He flops face first on his mattress a short instance later.

He stays there, immobile and partially suffocating in his pillow. His mind doesn't trail back to the wounds he has seen on Jungkook. They really don’t, which is why he is not debating on helping the Prince. He does not care about Jungkook, after all, and satisfied with his decision, Taehyung’s lids fall shut.

He lasts for less than ten minutes.

“For fuck’s sake.”

Taehyung pushes himself off his bed. He marches to the second bathroom and rummages through the cupboards. He retrieves two flat, round glass jars from it. He then makes his way out and stomps — quietly, his steps muffled by his fluffy slippers — to where he assumes Jungkook is sleeping in.

There’s light seeping from under the door.

Taehyung rattles his knuckles on the wood.

The door swings to reveal Jungkook. Taehyung doesn’t waste a single second to ram the jars in Jungkook’s chest. The Prince manages to capture them just in time.

“Green: antiseptic to clean wounds. Beige: soothing ointment for bruises and aching muscles,” Taehyung clarifies, because he’s sweet like that. “Don’t complain to me about your injuries again.”

“I never compl—”

“Don’t care.”

Taehyung wordlessly strides off, his retreat punctuated by the pit-a-pat of his mule slippers.

He feels a lot lighter for some inane reason. He locks the sentiment — and his bedroom — behind him. He crawls on his mattress and shuffles under the blankets this time. He tugs them up to his chin, ready to be embraced in Morpheus’ arms.

Morpheus is an incompetent twit.

Taehyung can’t sleep, not from lack of trying. 

His mind won’t stop churning about everything that has gone down today and the umpteenth realization that he is to be married. To a human. The same one that is sleeping in his city, under his rooftop. It puts Taehyung on edge, as though a catastrophe is about to implode: perhaps the confirmation that the marriage has been a ploy to have the Prince infiltrating Taehyung’s house in order to kill them all.

Or worse.

Maybe Jungkook knows him. Maybe he's a lackey of that man. 

Taehyung is about to entirely give up on sleep in favor of a night flight when he hears some noises coming from outside his bedroom’s door. More particularly on the left side of the abode, where the Prince’s temporary room resides. Taehyung rises on his elbows. He strains his ears to listen.

The click of a door opening and closing echoes in the distance. It’s trailed by barefooted steps. The person passes by Taehyung’s door before climbing down the stairs.

Taehyung leaps out of his bed.

He opens one of the two bay windows framing his bed and leading to the balcony. He walks outside. A shiver rattles through him when he’s hit by the freezing cold, and he uses his fire breath to warm himself up.

Taehyung deftly vaults on the cement fence of his balcony. He propels himself on the rooftop, the tiles groaning under his weight. He sneaks to the front of the house and crouches there, using the chimney to conceal himself. He doesn’t have to wait for long before Jungkook appears, clad in his shoes, a hefty coat thrown over his pajama.

Jungkook glances left and right. Then he wedges a path through the carts and walks to the outskirts of the forest.

Taehyung’s eyes narrow.

After lingering back for a couple minutes, Taehyung jumps from the rooftop down to the ground. His feet are cold on the wet grass as he stalks after the Prince.

Jungkook isn’t difficult to find with the twigs he steps on and that snaps under his shoes, or with his breath that puffs out in mist. He wanders aimlessly, trekking this and that way then in a straight line. This adds to the list of fishy behavior the Prince has exhibited since Taehyung has first seen him.

Is there an objective to this walk? Is the Prince on his way to meet with a human? Or someone else?

Taehyung can’t be certain yet, and so he continues to follow the Prince.

Jungkook halts when he reaches a clearing. He nears a hefty rock and props himself on it, drawing his knees up against his chest. Taehyung hides behind a tree, leaning to the side to peer ahead. The snake appears out of nowhere. Taehyung can't see it properly from where he is, but the serpent curls around Jungkook in a makeshift scarf.

Taehyung doesn’t know what else he expects to hear or see, but the last thing his brain may have conjured is for the Prince to burst into tears.

The cries are intersected by sniffles and a sporadic whimper, muffled in Jungkook’s arms that he wraps around his knees, head hung low and covered by the snake's one atop his crown.

“It must be hard on him to have been alienated all his life in his own home, and here too now.”

Taehyung curses to himself.

He doesn’t feel bad per se, but there is a sting that flares in his chest and that he pins on the ambient cold. At the very least, this display balances what has occurred today. Now Taehyung is the one witnessing one of the Prince’s weaknesses, a knowledge that he hopefully won’t have to use.

Having seen enough for now, and thinking that even the Prince is deserving of privacy in a moment like this, Taehyung walks away.

Jungkook’s face is cradled in his palms, his shoulders shaking from the cold and the whimper that escapes his mouth.

The sensation of being watched vanishes. 

Jungkook quietens. 

He pauses and holds his breath to hear the rustle of leaves growing fainter and fainter until it disappears.

“Is he gone?” Jungkook whispers to his friend. There’s a noise of confirmation. He sighs in relief and rests his forehead atop his knees, curling in to shield himself from the glacial breeze. “I’m so tired but I can’t sleep. Everything is so— So unfamiliar. It’s good, and I’m relieved to have left Amaris, but still. It’s kinda scary.”

Jungkook stiffens his hug around his legs, the cold already becoming unbearable in spite of how little he’s been outside.

He yearns to have Namjoon and Yoongi with him. He wouldn’t be as isolated then. 

Jungkook isn’t used to this: loneliness. He has nearly always had company with him, unwanted or not, whether it being his two friends or his helpers. Or them. He would usually value his alone time because of this, but now it's overwhelming. Even at night, the Kim family’s house and forest is too desolate compared to the citadel that would commonly be inhabited by Namjoon, Yoongi or them.

At least he's not living at the citadel anymore. He’ll still have to meet Seohyung and his father here and there, but he’ll be away from them as he had forever dreamed of. 

So it’s not too bad, in retrospect. Not yet.

“I think only now is when I’ll be able to take you out,” Jungkook says to his friend. “I’m worried about them seeing you. They don’t seem like terrible people, and you’re not sensing any real bad intent from them, but they are protective. The son especially is. I don’t trust what he’d do if he were to know all about you.” His friend agrees with a hiss before disappearing in the ruby. “Do you want to be out again?”

Jungkook’s friend makes a noncommittal sound of denial, having never been fond of being out in the cold.

“Let’s go back to the house before I fuse with the rock, then. I’ll let you out in the bedroom, okay? It should be fine if I lock the door and close the blinds. I think? We’ll see.” He unfolds his legs and stands. "I think we'll make new friends here." He glances behind him at the forest. "It'll be fun."

He rambles to his friend all the way to the outskirts of the forest, only shushing once he enters the house. Jungkook had expected Taehyung to await him with his eternal scowl, yet when he steps inside, the peaceful living room is devoid of a paranoid dragonborn.

“I guess pretending to cry worked,” Jungkook whispers to himself, chuckling at the happy sound his friend makes in echo to Jungkook’s happiness.

Chapter Text

It may come as a shock to most, but Taehyung really does not like the Prince.

However what Taehyung can admit with a pinch of bitterness is that Jungkook had good foresight when he had decided to bring furniture and necessities from Amaris’ citadel.

The house that has now been deemed as The Newlyweds’ Abode — according to Jimin’s unwanted intervention —, shares a lot of similarities with Taehyung’s childhood home when it comes to the layout and spaciousness.

The living, dining and kitchen space constitute a single room, separated with the living room on the left and the kitchen on the right when they enter. 

The sparse walls are made of beige stones in the kitchen framed by columns of somber wood, while the rest of the house had been built with sturdy, lighter wood. The floor, a polished contrast to the foundations, is made with tiles of a dark gray in the kitchen and brown in the living room, the gentle colors of the residence accentuated by the usual touches of green from the plants peppering the place, courtesy of Dahee and Taehyung.

Windows open up the space, with a large and elongated one lining the walls above the kitchen counters, as well as bay windows forming part of the two adjacent walls of the living room. There’s a glass solarium on the left side of the common room that Taehyung knows will soon become his favorite area of the house.

The furniture the Prince has brought with himself — like the light green sectional sofa, oak shelves, silver cutlery and more — nicely mingles with the rest of the house in an harmonious array of muted tones of brown, sage and red on some occasions. It’s elegant, and Taehyung tries not to think about how adequately he and Jungkook have unknowingly matched each other’s tastes.

Although he won’t verbally formulate his contentment, Taehyung is pleased with the refined aesthetic the house exudes. He had loved building and designing it, especially the second floor where two bedrooms are situated, one larger than the other one that Taehyung has already designated as his own.

He had not anticipated living in the house with someone other than Jimin, meaning that Taehyung and Jungkook will have to share the same bathroom for the time being, a problem Taehyung will have to remedy by creating a second one soon.

A basement finishes the structure of the house, much smaller than the one in Taehyung’s home.

And devoid of a dragonborns graveyard, which is a plus Taehyung is grateful for.

The major part of the morning has been spent breaking open crate after crate and assembling the furniture to store them within the new home. House , he corrects, the residence occupied by the human prince feeling like a compromise rather than a happy lair.

All the while, Taehyung has not spoken a single word to the Prince, a victory in his mind. He’s been quietly working, only exchanging sporadic directions with his parents or Jimin.

Taehyung had, however, nearly broken his vow of silence when he had felt the Prince’s gaze on him at some point during the moving in.

Taehyung had shed his thick cotton pullover at the time, feeling too hot from the constant carrying regardless of the cold weather seeping through the house’s entrance doors. He had been left in a worn out, ashen tee — not black, for once, an event that Jimin had teased him for —, the shirt riddled with holes on the hem and at the stretched, loose collar.

It'd been an unbecoming sight to the Prince because his eyes had been darting on Taehyung every few minutes. Taehyung had glared at the Prince, but the latter had shrugged it off in favor of glancing at Taehyung’s forearms. Or perhaps at Taehyung’s fingers that had been soiled, an occurrence that the regal human must consider repulsive, he who most likely never dares presenting himself with a flake of dust on his skin.

Nevertheless, in spite of that lone near incident, Taehyung had held on to his vow, showing an unparalleled restraint to reign in the urge to snap and bark at Jungkook to stop ogling.

Right now, Taehyung is occupied outside with arranging the flowers that he roots in the long window box lining the kitchen’s window. When he peers ahead inside the house, he can see the Prince trudge in the living room, his brown bear coat draped on his shoulders. Taehyung hasn't seen the snake again, and he hasn't pressed the subject yet in a feat of benevolence.

Dahee, Junhyun and Jimin had left half an hour ago or so to ‘give them space’ because Taehyung has to ‘make Jungkook feel welcomed and stop frowning already, Son, or you’ll have wrinkles worse than your grandfather's' Dahee had said. A pile of nonsense, if one were to ask Taehyung. Why should he bother evincing an hospitality he won’t mean? It’ll only serve to—

“It’s pretty.”

Taehyung isn’t the kind of dragonborn to startle easily, however he has noticed the way Jungkook slithers around with little to no sound like the viper that he is — and has.

“You like gardening?”

Crouched and fingers sank in the soil that he parts to dig little holes in, Taehyung slowly turns his head toward the disturbance. “How, exactly, is that any of your concern?”

“I’m curious.” Jungkook wraps his arms around himself and tucks his hands under the armpits of his fluffy coat.

“Why don’t you go be curious in the forest.”

The Prince has the gall to roll his eyes with an irate moue. “You’re gonna be like that all the time?”

“Oh no.” Taehyung's lips curl around a smile that he hopes to be as jeering as his words are. “I’ll be far, far worse if you don't leave me be.”

“You’re a prick, you know that?”

“Yes. Now skedaddle.” Taehyung waves a hand somewhere toward the outskirts of the forest. “Go pester someone else. Preferably as far away from me as possible.” It’s at the mumbled ‘bastard’ that Taehyung looks at the Prince again. “Your parents really were an antidote to that venom of yours, huh? I’m sure you wouldn’t be so impertinent if they were here."

“Aren’t you the one who complained about ‘forged compliance’?” Jungkook’s voice takes a harsher and deeper tone as his brows furrow into a glower.

“I do not sound like that."

“You do.”

“I fucking do not.”

“You are ,” Jungkook notes with a quirked brow.

“How about you shut up before I burn your ass to a crisp?”

Jungkook doesn’t look scared, as though aware that Taehyung wouldn’t stay true to his warning. “Before you do any of that,” he starts amidst a shudder that rattles his body, “can you help me, please?”

“No.”

At this final negation, Taehyung’s attention narrows back on his pretty flowers.

Taehyung has always had issues with the chaos his temper can be, and as he had become older, he had realized that nature can help him find a peace that can sometimes feel inaccessible when his sentiments overwhelm him. So whenever he can feel the ire — or fury, on a bad day — flicker within him, he opts to engage in gardening, or at least thinking about his pretty flowers that he will grow in a pretty garden once he finds the time to do so.

It’s therapeutic, really, and it works like wonder on Taehyung.

“It’s about the fireplace,” Jungkook continues, and Taehyung’s thoughts that had derailed drive back to the Prince. “There’s no matches and it’s freezing inside. I can’t stop shivering.”

“We’re going to Vanae’s main city in a few minutes. There's no point in lighting a fire inside. You can wait."

“Fine,” Jungkook concedes with a sigh. He walks back to the living room and settles on the second armchair, curling in on himself with his coat.

Twenty minutes or so later, the decoration of the kitchen window box is completed. Taehyung gathers the couple tools he had with him to trudge inside the house and leave them in the sink. He promptly washes them then his hands and face.

“We’re leaving,” Taehyung announces moments later.

“Alright.”

Taehyung slides on his pullover and makes his way to his bedroom to grab a pouch of coins and another of gems in case he needs to buy something more expensive. After what, he retrieves a bundle of ropes from the basement, some blankets and a large net.

“Is there anything coming to mind that we should get?” Jungkook asks, elbows propped on the kitchen counter.

“A cooler.” Taehyung begins to tie the thick ropes on the corners of the net to make the transportation easier during the flight.

“Oh, yes. Ice too, then.”

“No need. I can get that.”

Jungkook surveys Taehyung, this flicker of wonder back on his face. “Can you control ice?”

Taehyung entirely ignores the personal question. “Add bathroom stuff in general.”

Jungkook hums as he dips the quill in the jar of ink and scribbles on his paper. “I'm putting soap and necessities like those together. Maybe we should buy in bulk so we have stocks that will last for the winter?”

“Sure. Add wood planks, light and hard."

“Wood? We’re surrounded by a forest.”

“Just add it.”

“I’m putting candles and candelabras. Some oil lamps too. I don’t see any. Anything else?” Jungkook wonders and Taehyung pensively observes the house. “We’ll need food.”

“Obviously. No need to write that down."

“You’re at the head of the hunting squadron with your mother, right?”

“What about it?”

“We won’t have to worry about meat or buying it at the market?”

“Yes. Add salt. Clay pots, large pans. Bricks,” Taehyung says, then shakes his head. “No, not bricks, Jimin’s bringing me some later today.”

“What’s this all about?” Jungkook frowns while diligently writing down what Taehyung lists.

“Do you know anything about food preservation?”

“Not really,” Jungkook sheepishly admits.

“Right. I guess you never had to worry about that."

“You make it sound like the status I was born with is my fault or was my choice,” Jungkook retorts before blowing on the note to dry the ink.

“Whatever.” Taehyung isn’t about to hear the whining of a human born with a golden spoon embedded with diamonds in it. “Add what I said.”

“I did. I think we’re good, but anything else?”

“The rest I’ll remember.” Probably, Taehyung thinks to himself and he gathers the net to sling it around his right shoulder. “Bring your own money. I’m not paying for everything.”

Jungkook searches through the inner pocket of his coat to brandish a pouch that he sways next to his head then puts back where it was hidden. “What are the ropes for?”

“You. Maybe if I entirely wrap you in them, I’ll have the chance to not hear you run your mouth anymore. The weight should be enough to drop you in the ocean and let you drown in it.”

“Even then I could haunt you and hum you to an early grave.”

Jungkook hums a purposefully off tune song as he walks toward Taehyung and he doesn’t stop, even when Taehyung tells him to. It’s only when Taehyung’s hand flies up to cover Jungkook’s mouth that the Prince falls quiet.

Only to continue humming a lull later.

“See?” Jungkook says with a smile that Taehyung responds with a glower.

“Just—” Taehyung pinches the bridge of his nose. His mind flits back to the pretty flowers he had planted, focusing his thoughts on the soothing scents of the honeysuckle and witch-hazel. “Shut up.”

“You didn’t tell me what the ropes are for.”

"And you didn't explain yourself about your snake."

Jungkook clasps his hands behind and steps back. "I'll concede that point to you."

“Just be quiet and get ready.” Taehyung swings the door open and struts outside, the Prince on his trail and hopping on one foot then on the other as he slides on his shoes. Taehyung drops the net with the blankets wrapped inside, then he wordlessly shifts to his dragon counterpart.

“How are we—” Jungkook pauses, his hands stilling where his fingers are carding through his bangs. “Oh.” He stares at the talon Taehyung presents to him, and after a beat of hesitation, he climbs on its palm. He tugs his coat’s hood over his head to pinch the sides against each other in a makeshift mask against the cold. “My friend and I were worried the first time, but I loved the flight we had. My friend not so much, though." He cranes his neck to peep up at Taehyung through the small alcove that his hood and scarf offer, only his eyes and reddening nose peeking out. “You're lucky to be able to fly.”

Taehyung glances at Jungkook but says nothing — not that he could — and he grabs the net with his other talon.

He takes off, impatient to be done with the outing.

He and Jungkook fly above the forest, Vanae’s main market place twenty minutes or so of flight away. The Prince doesn’t speak again, his head held high and never dipping to peer down. Taehyung wonders if Jungkook is afraid of heights, which would be quite ironic in light of Taehyung’s lineage.

They pass over a house a while later. Jungkook moves as he turns sideways. 

Taehyung surveys the Prince.

For the first time in the past ten minutes, Jungkook peers at the canopy they hover in the sky. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, his hands sprawling when he leans forward on Taehyung’s talon to scrutinize a point below. Taehyung can’t tell if it’s a tree that enraptures the Prince, or if it’s the residence whose inhabitants loiter in the garden, the middle aged mates former guardians of Taehyung.

Taehyung still hasn't spoken to the couple in over nine years, and he averts his eyes from the house when remorse begins to wrench at a place near his heart.

Nevertheless, Jungkook’s sudden interest is odd.

It has an intent to it, not solely born from a mindless curiosity. His eyes are widened and they narrow before his lids fall shut. Taehyung slows down his pace to scout the area, but he can’t figure out what may have called the Prince’s unwavering focus amidst the unremarkable trees and scant birds.

When Jungkook’s lids flutter open, his eyes are glazed over. The Prince’s mind has wandered to a distant realm too far away for Taehyung to grasp it.

Jungkook eventually shakes his head and blinks.

Taehyung can’t help the grumble that rises at the back of his throat. The sound catches Jungkook’s attention who peeps up at him. The dazed, nearly dissociated look on Jungkook’s face is gone, replaced by a pinched lip smile.

The Pandora box the Prince makes clicks open as Taehyung stores in it another of Jungkook’s oddities.

“Oh my God! This is—”

Taehyung snatches the list from Jungkook’s hand to tear it in half. He keeps one piece to himself and gives the other to the Prince. “You buy this half, I handle the other.”

“What?” Jungkook says with a hint of incredulity. “I don’t know my way around here.”

“You can learn, and if not...” Taehyung shrugs as a dismissive conclusion. “Enjoy.”

On this last word, Taehyung pivots, ignoring Jungkook’s hissed protests. He strides through the masses, careful to not accidentally step on any limb, some of the dragonborns populating the market having traits of their dragon counterpart out like their wings, horns or tails that swish around in their path.

Taehyung doesn’t intend to spend an afternoon with Jungkook, a jinx he would rather not subject himself with. They can very well split the shopping endeavor between the two of them, ensuring not only a faster completion of their errands, but also a temporary lull away from the human prince.

Taehyung is reading the note to check what he has to buy when an authoritative hand grips onto his arm. He swivels around, ready to bark a retort at the forceful fingers digging into his bicep, however instead of being faced with a dragonborn, he’s met with the glare of a human prince.

“You are not leaving me to fend on my own in a foreign city where I know no one and won’t be able to find my way anywhere or carry half of what’s on the list,” Jungkook snips, his voice clipped.

“Let go of me.” Taehyung crosses the foot separating him from Jungkook to stare him down. “Right now.”

“I will if I shop with you.” Jungkook doesn’t relent his hold as Taehyung leans forward and seizes the Prince’s wrist. His gaze is born into Taehyung’s, his glare reflecting Taehyung’s growing ire.

“Now, I’m giving you a choice because I’m nice.” Taehyung’s fingers tighten around the wrist. He could crush the bone to a point of incurable if he desired to, and he has half a mind to do so when a repulsed shudder crawls up his back, the feeling of a human manhandling or holding or simply touching him flaring every single repulsed nerve in his body. “Either you let go of me on your own, or I make you let go.”

Jungkook must sense that the warning is not one spoken as a playful zest because the pulp of his fingers loosens around Taehyung’s arm. “Just—” He fully releases his grip. “You wouldn’t like how out of depth you’d feel if you were thrown into a human city without a guide, wouldn’t you?”

“That would never happen in the first place,” Taehyung rebuts and takes a step back, suffocated. The distance from Jungkook — or anyone else right now — still doesn’t suffice to alleviate the angsty prickles on Taehyung’s skin, but this is as far as he can be without losing Jungkook in the dense crowd bumping into them. “But if I were to, I’d stride with confidence.”

“Would you? This isn’t what happened back at the citadel.”

The humiliation coalesces with the churning anger. Taehyung's hands ball up into fists in his pants’ pockets.

In retrospect, he had known that Jungkook would eventually mention this weakness and use it in his favor, but Taehyung had foolishly believed that the Prince to be above such low mockery.

A flash of surprise washes over Jungkook’s face. Or regret, perhaps. Taehyung can’t tell, and he frankly doesn’t care.

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook's gaze casts low on the ground. “That was—”

Taehyung yanks Jungkook’s piece of paper. He turns around and narrows his attention on the list to bite back any cruel retort.

If described as a euphemism, the shopping affair is terse and quiet. If defined in a more accurate way, it would be deemed as glacial and insufferably winded.

Taehyung doesn’t utter another word to Jungkook, the latter silent as well. The two only talk to the merchants with curt ‘Thank you' on Taehyung's part and the sporadic questions on Jungkook’s regarding the products. The one time Jungkook addresses Taehyung again is when he recalls needing to buy matches and then asking Taehyung if he could lead them to a stand selling those.

Taehyung’s mood is atrocious, and to his dismay, it does not improve the slightest after acquiring a bag of chocolate chips that he munches on.

They’ve managed to buy most of what is on the list, saved for the food that they had decided to retrieve at the end of their journey through the market.

To Taehyung’s relief, no one pays attention to him. 

The streets are packed with dragonborns rushing to stock up on goods and necessities for the winter, while the sellers are occupied with shouting their discounts and quality of merchandise, sometimes arguing about the prices with their customers. So no one seems to notice the presence of a human, and most importantly of Amaris’ prince trailing behind Taehyung like a lost hatchling.

Taehyung hadn’t thought about the possible gush of interest that could have erupted at his people seeing him with his human betrothed — or with a human in general —, and his shortcoming has thankfully not led to any uproar from Vanae’s dragonborns.

Taehyung and Jungkook make their way to the exit now that the remaining bullet points of their list have been taken care of; the food, ingredients, spices and more now all secured in protective paper bags and blankets.

Jungkook is still enthralled by the place that he examines like a damn tourist, making little noises of interest or curiosity whenever they walk by this or that shop.

Absorbed in mulling over how eager he is to get back to the house, Taehyung belatedly notices the absence of a certain human. His head turns left and right, looking this and that way, but no sight of Amaris’ prince can be found.

"For Elders' sake."

He could leave Jungkook behind, but the Prince would be stuck at the market and wouldn’t have any other means of transport to come back to the house. Taehyung wouldn’t be opposed to it, but whether he accepts it or not, some duties come with being Jungkook’s betrothed, and one of them is to avoid an outcome of Jungkook being found dead in the forest or anything equally dire.

Taehyung heavily groans and turns on his heel.

He attempts to track Jungkook’s scent but it’s muddled with those of food, spices and thousands of dragonborns bustling the market. So Taehyung squeezes through the crowd to, once near a wall, leap on a barrel, summon his wings out and fly off.

A few fully shifted dragons are in the sky, Taehyung greeting and smiling at one of them. 

He scans the area, flying down some streets devoid of the man he’s looking for. 

It doesn’t take long for Taehyung to spot a familiar mop of perfectly styled hair. He lands on the stone fence of a staircase. He wills away his wings while he jumps down and he trails after the Prince.

Taehyung is about to yell Jungkook’s name when the human freezes on his spot. Jungkook is staring straight ahead in an alley that is deserted save for a group of kids running through it with laughter. Taehyung joins Jungkook and says “Wha—”

Jungkook shushes with a flippant jut of his index finger.

Taehyung’s right eye twitches. 

Jungkook hums and his observation of their surroundings is interrupted by a shiver that wracks through him. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Taehyung says and when Jungkook paces down the alley, Taehyung begrudgingly follows him. “I’m not hearing anything.”

“I swear I heard something. Like… crying? Or… Or I don’t know, but it was a weird sound.”

Taehyung strains his ears, but aside from the ambient brouhaha of the market, no other noise grabs his attention.

Jungkook peers at Taehyung but his eyes skim behind on the ground before they move upward again, as though following something climbing up the side of the building. When Taehyung twists to check what animal Jungkook may have seen, nothing is there.

Jungkook’s face etches with puzzlement. “I thought I saw something.”

“Are you insane? And I mean literally so.”

“No. I’m not insane,” Jungkook deadpans. “Anyway. We can go. Sorry for disappearing. I just heard a sound.”

As if.

Taehyung clutches the collar of Jungkook’s coat and unceremoniously shoves the Prince against the wall.

Jungkook doesn’t appear disconcerted by this. Instead he says “This is the second time you push me against a wall. A third, and I might believe you have some ulterior motive.”

“What are you hiding?” Taehyung deflects, unable to keep at bay the rancor that seeps in his raspy timber. "Is this about your pet snake?"

“She's not my pet and I'm not—”

“Don’t lie. You’re hiding something. I can tell. Could tell from the beginning.”

Jungkook visibly fights back this reflexive urge to mellow down because he slackens in Taehyung’s clutch for a brief moment before his hand flies up to clench around Taehyung’s wrist.

“You could tell, yet you agreed to the wedding. Either your foolishness is your insidious killer, or your confidence is.” Jungkook’s nails bore into Taehyung’s sleeve with an unexpected strength, and if it wasn’t for the thick fabric, they would sink into the flesh and most likely draw blood. “Unless you have a secret too. However, rest assured that mine won’t harm you.”

“I have a hard time believing this when I can see the color of your necklace pulse. Is your snake itching to bite me?"

“If she or my secret was to hurt you, they already would have, considering how often you’ve given us a reason to strike back.”

It could still be a slow and calculated ploy to have Taehyung put his guard down. “I’ll find out what your secret is, Viper.”

“Good luck with that.” Jungkook grins and the view is so damn infuriating that Taehyung has to release his hold on the Prince to step away. “In the meantime, I’ll be working on figuring out your secret.”

“I’m not hiding anything, unlike you.”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed your immediate approval of this wedding in spite of how much you hate humans. There has got to be some really, really convincing reason for you to accept. Perhaps the reason is plural, because I highly doubt you’re the kind of man to discard your beliefs and judgments for something as mundane as expansion or political assets. You’re clearly too prideful and obstinate for that. So, I wonder…”

Jungkook folds his hands behind his back and crosses the distance. Taehyung refuses to walk backward, even when only a few inches separate their faces. Jungkook leans forward as he tilts his head on one side, his hair brushing against his cheeks at the motion. His smile is ever present, its playfulness undeterred by Taehyung’s scorn.

“What could possibly unravel the callous Kim Taehyung into a yarn of compliance?”

Memories of skeletons laced with this peculiar, lingering tang that Taehyung erupts in his mind.

If the Prince is to learn about the plague and share this knowledge with Amaris’ Queen and King, Taehyung can only imagine the disaster that would befall on dragonborns. He's aware that Dahee and Junhyun have been somewhat convinced by the token of trust Jungkook has given them, however Taehyung knows humans better.

“I’ll figure out your secret before you do so with mine."

“Should we make a bet?”

This competitive spark in Taehyung predictably flickers alive at Jungkook’s dare.

“If you find out first, you win, and you get to ask anything of me for a day. Vice versa if I win."

“That’s a boring bet with boring stakes and rewards."

An affronted pout appears on Jungkook's lips. “Then offer something better.”

“Nah let’s go with that,” Taehyung rethinks when he ponders on what he could demand of the Prince. Probably something annoying like doing the dishes. “Whoever figures out the secret first makes the other his servant for a day.”

“Excellent.” Jungkook rocks back and forth on the ball of his feet. He gnaws on his lower lip, doing nothing to hide the amusement that paints his face. “Can’t wait for my betrothed to become my temporary maid.”

Taehyung barks out a mirthless laugh. “You’re so damn naïve. Your mind rivals that of a child.”

“Speak all you want, but I know I’ll win,” Jungkook assures in a finality that he punctuates with a jut of his chin. He twirls around to walk down the street.

Taehyung waits until Jungkook is at the end of the alley to say “It’s the other way around, dumbass!”

“I knew that,” Jungkook mumbles when he reaches Taehyung’s side again, a pink hue on his cheeks that Taehyung doesn’t believe to be only due to the cold. “Prick."

Taehyung doesn’t reply.

As they trudge to the street market, Taehyung slows down to study the building that had called Jungkook’s attention earlier. When he still sees nothing out of the ordinary, he accelerates his pace, the pit-a-pat of the Prince’s shoes echoing behind him.

“Hello, lovebirds, and welcome b—”

Taehyung zaps Jimin’s chest, not withholding his arcane as much as he usually would. “Call us that one more time and I’m squeezing those bricks up your ass."

“And I’m never helping you again, asshole.” Jimin drops to his burden on the ground. “Hey, Jungkook. How was your trip?”

Jungkook launches himself in a tirade about how ‘gorgeous the market was!’ , and how ‘so many smells, stands and boutiques there are!’ He also vents over how eager he is to visit the place again without being rushed, a jab that Taehyung deftly disregards.

“If someone has the wealth to spend money there every day, it’s definitely you,” Jimin chuckles. “There are a few fun shops hidden in some nooks. I’ll have to show them to you.”

“Oh! Yes, I’d—”

“The groceries and everything else won’t tidy up themselves,” Taehyung interjects with a pointed look aimed at Jungkook.

“Yes, yes.” Jungkook does not roll his eyes, but he makes up for it with a flippant sigh.

“It’s for the smokehouse? Need help with that?” Jimin nods toward the bricks piled in the basket that is precariously standing upright.

“Yeah, and no, it’s fine. I’d rather do it myself.”

“I’ll get back to the city then. Good luck with…” Jimin makes a vague motion toward the sprawled open net that is stuffed with all kinds of knickknacks. “All this.” He shifts to his dragon self and waves a talon at Jungkook when the latter shouts a ‘Goodbye’ to him.

With the Prince’s help, who surprisingly doesn’t shy away from lifting the heavy purchases they have made this afternoon — aside from those that are too hefty for a human’s puny strength —, storing what they have bought where it belongs doesn’t take too much time.

Once done, Jungkook warms the house with the lit matches that he tosses in the fireplace while Taehyung gathers the materials he needs. 

The cooler is already installed in the kitchen — courtesy of Junhyun —, the wooden box lined with zinc tucked next to the sink, the black stove and oven then following suit. Taehyung won’t need the inside cooler anymore in a week or so, the coldness of the winter air will soon suffice to keep everything frozen outside.

Having taken a day off for the moving in and construction of the smokehouse that he had planned for today, Taehyung settles himself in the garden. His toolbox and everything else he needs to cut, sand, then piece together the wood planks are laid next to him.

After discarding his pullover on the ground, he starts his project. Something is missing, however, and Taehyung enters the house to retrieve it.

“Do you want some help?” Jungkook offers, lounging on the couch.

Taehyung pauses and quirks a brow. “Because you’d know how to build? Or simply hold a hammer?”

“I know how to hold a hammer, yes, Taehyung. Although I’m not adept when it comes to building smokehouses, or anything of the sort, for that matter. I never learned, but I could if you teach me.”

“I'll pass. I’d rather not have you anywhere near me,” Taehyung says and makes his way to the stairs.

“Enjoy yourself then,” Jungkook shrugs.

A few seconds later, Taehyung walks inside his bedroom. He plucks a beige cotton headband that he slides down his neck before dragging it back up to keep his hair out of the way. He climbs down to the living room then grabs the jar filled with pieces of dried meat. He gnaws on one and glances at Jungkook.

The Prince looks like the epitome of coziness: tightly wrapped in a blanket, books and papers surrounding him on the sofa, a cup of what Taehyung recognizes as hot chocolate held in one hand, a quill in the other. Even the serpent seems to bask in tranquility, the snake's tail dangling off Jungkook's legs and lazily twitching on the carpet.

As Taehyung exits the house, he wonders if Jungkook is investigating this supposed primordial stone he had spoken of during dinner. Neither Jimin, Taehyung’s parents or Taehyung himself have yet to find anything regarding the stone, and Taehyung doubts that the Prince will from where he’s cuddled up on the couch.

Taehyung quickly gets to work, itching to do something with his hands and relax as he builds.

Except that Taehyung doesn’t solely construct.

He has a hobby, and similar to his appreciation for flora and botany, it’s one that very few are privy to the existence of. It’s not that he’s ashamed of it, or as though it is something unusual for dragonborns. He simply treasures this pastime — passion, really — to a point where he wishes to only share it with those he sees as his family.

And the Prince, unfortunately.

Taehyung won’t be able to conceal this from Jungkook. He could try, but it’d induce too many questions from the human that Taehyung does not want to deal with. He could also pretend that his beautiful work is the one of another dragonborn, but he internally scowls at the thought.

Taehyung likes to carve and sculpt wood, and he’s damn good at it.

He tends to prefer sculpting small, miniature pieces, achieving a rare peace in chiseling tiny scales on tiny wings of tiny dragons with his equally tiny tools. It’s adorable, and most importantly, it’s gratifying to watch the amount of details he can implement come to life, no matter how small and intricate the piece may be.

He has a whole collection of figurines that has gained in companions over the years. They aren’t just dragons but also animals and creatures of all kinds. And of wolves and foxes, the two groups granted two separate areas on his display glass shelves.

So, amidst the insipid, boring task of sawing and nailing the planks of wood together, Taehyung stimulates himself by carving the upper part of the doors that will close the two rooms of the smokehouse. Because he’s self-centered and arrogant like that, he chooses to draw the head of a dragon on the left door, and a fox on the right one.

“God... It’s stunning.”

Taehyung jolts. 

The tip of the gouge pierces through the wood, effectively ruining the eye he had been painstakingly chiseling.

Taehyung deeply inhales and exhales, lest he turns around to seize the Prince by the collar and throw him so high in the sky he’d hopefully be disintegrated by the stratosphere.

“I’m… Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was walking loudly, though, and I also called your name. Four times.”

Sitting on the ground, Taehyung twists his head and has to crane his neck to peer up at Jungkook. “Do you know what this is?” He raises his tool to show it to the Prince.

Jungkook shakes his head. 

“This is a gouge. It’s used to carve wood. Do you have any idea of what else could be carved with this gouge?”

“Clay?”

“Eyes.”

Jungkook blinks a few times.

“I can gouge eyes with this. I have before.” Taehyung hasn’t, but Jungkook needs to realize that bothering Taehyung when the latter is sculpting warrants a death or two. “You’d be surprised at how easily eyes can be scooped out of one’s head.”

Jungkook hums. “But what if I bite your hand before you get to gouge my eyes out?”

“I’d dislocate your jaw.”

There’s an undecipherable glint in Jungkook’s gaze that does not have its place considering what Taehyung has just promised.

“Are you really that strong?”

Taehyung, for good measure and to send a message, takes a piece of chopped tree trunk that he splits in half with his bare hands, a splinter grazing against Jungkook’s temple. Jungkook crouches and curls his arms around his knees while he studies the two pieces of trunk that Taehyung drops by his feet.

“Is your body strength proportional to the force of your arcane?”

“The force of my arcane?”

“Literally so. One of your breaths is force, right?” Jungkook clarifies. “Along with lightning and fire. I don’t think you can use ice, actually, because you said ‘get ice’ earlier which implies that you can’t produce it yourself. How come you can use several breaths? Isn’t it usually one or two at most per dragonborn, from what I've read recently? Do you have more than three breaths? And if yes, how many?”

Taehyung deflects the barrage of questions with one of his own. “How do you know I can use force?”

“I wasn't sure but you just confirmed it to me,” Jungkook snickers with a cheeky smile.

“Fucking viper.” Taehyung focuses back on the fox’s head he’s sculpting, the dragon one finished an hour ago.

“Is it proportional or not?”

“The only way I’m willing to answer this is by demonstrating it on you and hopefully squashing you in the process.” Taehyung attempts to rectify the eye that has become a horrendous hole because of the Prince’s unsought distraction.

“You like to threaten people with violence, huh?”

“Not people. Humans."

“Why?”

“Because violence is all that your kind understands.” Taehyung grits his teeth together, his fingers flexing around the wood and the handle of the gouge. He rolls his shoulders and he taps the index of his left hand on the door, counting down to ten, then up and down again.

Jungkook must sense the sudden veer in Taehyung’s mood because he rises on his feet. “I’m sorry about your piece. I really didn’t mean to take you by surprise. I was just curious and wanted some company.” He doesn’t linger for a reply, smart enough to know he won’t have one.

It takes a while to quell down the discomfort and trepidation that has surged within Taehyung, or the ache that is rendering his scars sore and tight with tension.

He at least manages to channel his upset on the sculpture that he salvages, shaping and smoothly merging the hole with the chiseled fur surrounding it. The fox resembles Minsoo now, with an eye missing and a scar marking the lid, which in retrospect turns out to be quite the serendipity born from a mistake.

The house’s entrance door opens at one point, Taehyung now more aware of his surroundings to avoid another mishap. Footsteps approach, then an arm that deposits a cup next to Taehyung’s hip.

“I brewed some coffee,” Jungkook announces. “I don’t know how you like it, but I added some milk and one sugar.”

Taehyung does not even have the time to think a ‘thank you’ before Jungkook jogs back inside, the blanket wrapped around him swirling in his path.

The cup of coffee is left untouched.

Technically speaking, Taehyung knows it isn’t poisoned, but he justifies his reason for not drinking the beverage by telling himself that it could be spiked, rather than admitting that a childish rejection is at the core of his refusal.

It would be a waste of potentially good coffee though, Taehyung muses minutes later.

It’s a gust of freezing wind that tilts the scale in the cup’s favor.

Taehyung brings the mug to his lip to take a sip. He swiftly spits out its content on the grass. “Fucking hell.”

“Is it bad?” Jungkook pipes up from behind.

Taehyung pivots to see Jungkook’s head peeking out of the doorway. “It’s cold.” There’s a beat of silence that he uses to warm up the unexpectedly good coffee with his hand.

“You’re a bit dramatic, aren’t you?”

“Add more milk and two sugars instead of one next time,” Taehyung quips, just to see the way Jungkook’s brows will knit while his lips will purse in a downturn moue.

The Prince throws off Taehyung’s assumptions by skipping toward him as his doe eyes expectantly peer down at Taehyung. “I can redo it for you.” Jungkook doesn’t wait for a response. He plucks the cup from Taehyung’s grasp and rushes to the house.

Taehyung stares where the Prince had once been. He’s nonplussed, even when Jungkook comes back a couple minutes later holding a steaming cup of coffee that he hands to Taehyung with a small smile.

“Here. More milk and two sugars. Tell me if you like it this way or if I should change something. I’m still learning.”

Taehyung had thought Jungkook wouldn’t put on the act of compliance with him anymore, but then again, what else other than a mindless doll is there to expect from Amaris’ prince?

Taehyung sips on his warm coffee.

And he immediately spits it out again when a bitterness suffuses Taehyung’s taste buds. “What the fuck.”

Jungkook’s expression has an air of conceit to it. His devious gaze slowly lowers to settle on Taehyung. “I forgot to mention that I included a handful of salt for an added flavor. You didn’t say anything regarding this.”

“You fucking—”

“You’d be shocked to know that good things will happen to you if you ask nicely instead of being an absolute prick to someone showing you some kindness."

Taehyung doesn’t get to snap a retort at Jungkook before the latter strides off. His and Taehyung’s gaze meet through the wall of bay windows separating the living room from the garden. Jungkook mouths a ‘Prick’ that he punctuates by sticking his tongue out like a damn five year old.

Taehyung could stoop down to Jungkook’s childish level and flip the bird to the Prince, which is exactly what he does, his response received with a laugh that he frowns at because his ire is not a source of hilarity.

Life has been rather monotone and dull.

Taehyung must have exchanged a grand total of perhaps five to ten words with Jungkook yesterday, and an additional couple more this morning.

They have both been keeping to themselves.

Taehyung is cooped up outside or in his bedroom, while the Prince has been spending most of his time settled at the dinner table to study, investigate, or do whatever it is that the future heir of a human kingdom does.

Today is another one that Taehyung has delegated to rest and ease himself in growing more accustomed to the routine of a soon to be married man. However it feels like an impossible task at the moment. It’s partially caused by this new abode he hasn’t acclimated to yet, but also a result of the disruptions tampering with his nights in the form of closing doors, pitter-patter of shoes and rustles of clothes.

Every night, without ever missing one, Jungkook heads outside to come back around an hour later.

Taehyung hasn’t followed the Prince like the first time he had caught him sneaking out, but their discussion about exposing each other’s secret has been replaying in his mind.

Jungkook is hiding something beyond his already strange pet snake, and if it’s linked to his nightly strolls in the forest, Taehyung has decided to figure out the countenance of it soon.

“Morning,” Jungkook says as Taehyung enters the kitchen.

Taehyung pours himself a cup of coffee. There’s some pancakes piled on a plate and he doesn’t bother asking their provenance when he takes three of them.

His bedroom had felt especially cold this morning. So, in spite of his aversion to being anywhere near the human Prince, Taehyung occupies the living room for the afternoon, sitting on the carpet. The fireplace is already warming the area, and an additional source of warmth is found in the sunlight beaming through the windows that illuminates the coffee table Taehyung works on.

He and his exploration squad had ventured to the north-east a few weeks ago. The map he had sketched lies crumpled on one side of the table. He has a larger, blank parchment paper sprawled in front of him.

Half an hour later, belly full, body warmed up and a quill in hand, Taehyung launches himself in drawing the map of the series of islands his squadron had discovered.

Enraptured with his delineating of borders and calculations of the scaled down map, Taehyung doesn’t see the afternoon pass by, soon forgetting about the presence of the Prince also loitering in the armchair that he has deemed as his own — not The Armchair.

The peaceful lull is broken after a while, to Taehyung's dismay.

“I talked to your mother yesterday."

“And?” Taehyung scrapes with a small blade the mistake he's made on the map.

“We’ll have to confer with the wedding planners and the rest of the workers we hired for the ceremony.”

“I’ll be busy,” Taehyung dismisses, retracing the line he had messed up by a few millimeters.

“Dahee said she’ll handle the hunting squadrons in your absence."

Taehyung frowns. His mother had not spoken a word about this to him. “I don’t care about what fare will be prepared for the wedding, the theme colors and whatnot.” The ceremony in general doesn’t interest Taehyung, and if it was up to him, it would not happen to begin with. “You can handle it yourself or delegate it to the wedding planners we’re paying for a reason.”

“You’re making this harder than it should be."

“I’m making it easier by not participating.”

“Do you truly not want to help? At all?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me your favorite colors."

“Nope,” Taehyung pops out the ‘p’. He glances at Jungkook and satisfaction swirls in him at the Prince’s irked moue.

“Prick.”

Taehyung hums, focusing his attention back on his map as a silence that is neither strained or exceedingly uncomfortable fills the room anew.

The day is rather serene as it seeps into late afternoon.

Jungkook is quiet and still, saved for the occasional instances where he vacates to visit the bathroom or rekindle the embers in the fireplace.

The snake creeps on the carpet at some point. It curls up into a ball near Taehyung but still at a certain distance, heeding his warning glare when it had tried to get a little closer. It almost seems like the serpent is guarding Jungkook, creating a barrier between him and Taehyung.

It’s not too bad, in spite of how alienating it is to live with two strangers, Taehyung muses. It could be better, with Jungkook simply not existing, but it could also be worse.

“So many windows is great for light and that sense of openness, but not so much to keep the heat in.” Jungkook shivers, regardless of the two blankets enveloping him and the burning fireplace.

“Add more logs and blankets.” Taehyung waves him off. Not that Jungkook’s discomfort matters to him, but if he has to listen to the Prince complain about Taehyung’s house that he initially built for himself, Taehyung might do something as drastic as calling off the engagement.

“That’s what I’ve been doing,” Jungkook mumbles, and Taehyung does not need to peer at him to know that the Prince is pouting. “I’m still cold.”

“That sucks.” Feeling particularly obnoxious, Taehyung produces some fire in his left hand that he pats on his nape to spread the warmth. He makes a show of it, the taunt neither accidental nor subtle.

“Prick,” Jungkook chuckles.

Another instance of quietude elevates between them that Jungkook annihilates for the third time.

“What are you working on?”

“Stop trying to have conversations with me.”

Jungkook lowers his notebook on his drawn up legs. "What have humans done to you for you to abhor the presence of one that has been cordial toward you?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“But some humans hurt you or someone you love, right? Or something equally bad. They must have because your hatred can’t be solely based on the Great War and its old rivalry. It'd be childish, even for you.”

“You don’t know me."

“Yes, but I’m learning, unlike you."

“I only agreed to this marriage for the mutual dowry we bring to our family, as I said multiple times. I don’t have an ounce of care in knowing more about you. Extend that indifference toward me.”

“We’ll have to approach some subjects eventually, more so at the beginning of our marriage.” Jungkook averts his gaze away from Taehyung. When he speaks again, his voice is barely audible, tightened by a cautious rasp. “Unless you don’t want to.”

All at once, Taehyung is reminded of Seungwon.

He can’t imagine that the vile dragonborn has given Jungkook any sort of weight in his words or choice about anything, even more for marital issues that may have certainly arisen.

“Alright.” Taehyung rests his quill on the coffee table. He leans back against the sofa’s cushion seat. “Let’s talk.”

Jungkook’s eyes dart on Taehyung. “About?”

“There are expected behaviors that will come with us being husbands since we'll have a pretense to maintain in front of everyone else,” Taehyung says and crosses his arms over his chest. “We should settle down our physical boundaries.”

“Oh. That’s…” Jungkook’s demeanor and gaze softens as he watches Taehyung. His lips press into a thin line that relaxes when he emits a sigh. “Mhm, I’d like that."

Jungkook’s timber is demure, however it’s not born from that annoying forged compliance. It’s different, somehow. More honest and strangely coming off as natural, for lack of a better word, and Taehyung doesn’t know what to make of it nor how he manages to notice this.

“Don’t touch my back, shoulders, nape or neck. The chest, legs and arms are fine.”

“What about feet?” Jungkook playfully wonders.

“Ask me that again and I’ll shove them down your throat.”

“How depraved…”

Taehyung groans. “You’re repulsive.”

Jungkook chuckles, mirth dancing in his eyes. “But duly noted. As for me, I’m okay with most. You can touch my back, lower back, neck or face. My chest and arms are fine too. I don’t mind if you rest your hands on my thighs as long as it’s not too high. I think that’s it?”

“Alright.” Taehyung may be uncomfortable with the discussion, but he’s glad to be breaching this subject early on before any accident can occur. If Jungkook were to slightly graze Taehyung’s shoulders, even if unintentionally, Taehyung can’t definitively say that he wouldn’t punch the Prince in a compulsory response. Taehyung has a feeling the sentiment is mutual considering the bloody ear lobe tale.

“What about kissing?”

“What?”

“We’ll have to kiss. At least once at the wedding."

“None on the mouth,” Taehyung articulates with as much disgust as he can convey. “Aside from during the ceremony.”

“If some question it, then—”

“Then they can eat a damn cactus for all I care. What we decide to show off of our relationship is our choice to make, whether it concerns the pretense or not. If someone has a judgment to make because we don’t swallow each other’s tongue in public, tell them to fuck off. And if not, send them to me so that I tell them to fuck off.”

“Okay.” Jungkook sounds happy for some reason. “Kisses on the cheek are fine though? At least those?”

Taehyung peers at the ceiling as he inhales. “Sparsely. Don’t overdo it.”

“I mean,” Jungkook begins, “I won’t be lapping at your cheek, if this is what troubles you.”

“Do you have to make everything sound so revolting?”

“Yes. It riles you up, it’s amusing,” Jungkook grins then takes a sip of his beverage. “That scowl on your face is always fascinating to observe. It's like watching lava roll down the side of a volcano.”

Taehyung doesn’t think he can do this anymore. 

It’s quite impressive that he has managed to live with the human prince and creepy snake for so long already — because those few days of domesticity have felt like an interminable torment.

“So, everything regarding physical touches is settled for now, but what about the more verbal affection?” Jungkook asks. 

Taehyung’s lids fly open and he lifts his head from the sofa’s cushion to confusedly survey Jungkook. 

“Pet names?” Jungkook clears up. “Can I use any? Like my dear husband? My Love? My—”

“My name. Is Kim Taehyung.”

“I’m throwing it out there, but you can use some with me.”

“I’d rather swallow my tongue and die."

Jungkook, like the absolute manic man that he is, erupts into a series of ringing laughter. “This is really new.”

“Yeah and you’re a basket case."

“I’m used to people groveling and being cautious of every word they utter around me. But you just… You don’t care about my status."

Taehyung huffs and grabs his quill. “Your status means nothing to me.”

“I know. I like it. It’s a nice change to be treated normally.”

If Taehyung being an asshole — a truth that he concedes — equals being ‘treated normally’ to the Prince, Taehyung doesn’t want to think about the type of attitudes Jungkook must have gotten used to.

“Is that all for public appearances?”

Taehyung makes a noncommittal sound of agreement as leans over his map.

“Although…” 

Jungkook never finishes his sentence.

“What?” Taehyung presses.

Jungkook scrapes at the worn-out spine of the leather seat. “When we’ll be with my parents, could you act... Uh... Satisfied?”

“Satisfied?”

“Satisfied with me.”

Taehyung squints at him. “Why?”

“Because they’ll want to know if I’m fulfilling my duties as your betrothed, especially the Queen.” Jungkook tugs on the hoops adorning his left ear, not meeting Taehyung’s gaze. “If I please you or not, if I’m good to you or not. If you want to carry on with the engagement or not. Considering how the last attempt with Seungwon had gone, I’m worried what would happen if they assume that I’m not… doing well enough.”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘acting satisfied’ with you."

“What I mean is: order me around. You can even call me ‘doll’. I’m positive they’ll like to know how mindless and pliant you'd portray me as. Tell me what to do in front of them so that they can see I’m obeying you. As much as you despise this mostly fabricated aspect of me, my parents would loathe to see me be defiant with you. Plus they don’t know my compliance is forged, and I’d like to keep it this way.”

“Of course they know. It’s obvious.”

“It really isn’t. They know I have brief bursts of temper, but the Queen made sure to have me disciplined. Meanwhile I made sure to have her believe the corrections worked.”

“Brief bursts,” Taehyung parrots with disbelief. “They’ve been endless since you’ve arrived.”

“So you are learning things about me."

“Case in point.”

“Either way, all I want is for them to keep underestimating me,” Jungkook concludes as he slouches on his armchair and tugs the hem of the blanket closer to his neck.

“Why would you ever want that?” Taehyung shoots in spite of his vow to not befriend the Prince.

“Because it makes it easier for others to put their guard down. They’re more malleable and trusting if they believe that I’m stupid, naive and ignorant.”

Jungkook’s admitted confession is one that Taehyung has been aware of since the dinner at Amaris, yet it still baffles him that Jungkook can muster such a wickedly sharp mind. “You’re such a damn viper,” is all that Taehyung can say.

Jungkook has the indecency to giggle. “Yes, but do you agree with what I asked or not?”

“Sure."

“As I said, ordering me to do this or that, or fetch this or that for you will do the trick."

“I won't act nice.”

“There's no need for that, the Queen and King won't care,” Jungkook waves off.

“Pigs."

“Will you do it?”

Taehyung already regrets accepting this charade, but he nods anyway. Might as well achieve his good deed of the year.

Jungkook’s form that had tensed up unwinds. “Thank you... It's— Believe it or not, but you've been the most cordial man I've been promised to, humans and dragonborns confounded. So I'd rather avoid being married to someone else. Or Seungwon.”

“How so?”

“Before I left, my parents said that if it doesn't work out with your family, I would become Seungwon’s betrothed again, and that this time the wedding would go through no matter the cost. They're adamant about him.”

“They probably aren't. Seungwon is. He doesn't deal well with not being awarded what he desires.”

“I see."

Taehyung fiddles with his quill, his focus on the map poor.

He can’t evince any empathy for humans, but fucking hell. Thinking about anyone — even the annoying Prince — being wedded to Seungwon revolts Taehyung more than he'd assume.

“Would you?”

“Hm?”

“Marrying Seungwon,” Taehyung clarifies. “Would you let it happen if our arrangement was to be called off?”

“Yes, I would,” Jungkook answers, and what minuscule sliver of respect Taehyung withholds for the Prince vanishes. “But then I’d grab a knife and plunge it through his throat. Or something akin to this, depending on what tools I have at the time.”

Taehyung appraises Jungkook anew. “Good,” he approves, then looks down at his map.

“You seem to hate Seungwon more than me or other humans."

“Because I do.” Save for a handful of specific humans. “I’m sure you’ve seen why for yourself.”

“I have."

It doesn’t take a genius to detect the agitation that escalates and stiffens Jungkook's intonation. However, it takes an observant man to catch onto the way Jungkook’s thumb discreetly brushes at a faint scar on the apple of his left cheek. The motion is swift and distracted, but the voice at the back of Taehyung’s head nags at him once more.

“Seungwon gave that to you?”

Jungkook's body grows taut. Then he cups the side of his face, effectively hiding the scar as he angles his head down to peer at his book.

“Has he given you more than this one?” Taehyung carries on when the Prince remains quiet.

“It doesn't matter."

“How many?”

"It's not—"

"How many, Viper?"

“I said it doesn't matter. I don’t want to talk about it.” Jungkook’s glare settles on Taehyung but it’s dampened by the glaze that mists his eyes. “Don't push,” he warns. The snake hisses, making her way up Jungkook's chest to curl around his neck and right arm. The snake hasn't opened its eyes once since Taehyung has first seen it, and he wonders if it will now with the way it holds a defensive stance around Jungkook. “What Seungwon has done to me does not matter to my own parents, to you, or to anyone else aside from Namjoon and Yoongi, so why are you asking? Are you trying to humiliate me? Is this why—”

“I would never use this kind of thing to humiliate anyone.”

“Then why do you care to know?"

"Because…" Taehyung's throat clicks when he swallows. "Because I have an idea of how it feels."

Jungkook's gaze is searching when it finds Taehyung's. “It was just a few,” he confesses with a quiet voice, his face pinched into a frown. “Maybe three or four times. That’s all."

“Your parents knew?” Taehyung asks, and he’s impressed that he succeeds in doing so in spite of the arcane thundering within him.

Jungkook doesn’t speak. Instead he continues to silently study Taehyung. Then still without a word, Jungkook nods.

The quill snaps in half between Taehyung’s fingers. The staccato happens but it’s muted, only noticeable for him who can feel the roulette of his arcane simmer where his breath pouch is.

“Don’t ask me about this anymore,” Jungkook says after clearing his throat, unaware of the storm he has raised in Taehyung.

Taehyung answers with a curt nod, the apology that weighs his tongue too bitter to be uttered for a human.

Closing his eyes, Taehyung narrows his mind on his breaths’ imaginary roulette. He reaches a ghostly hand in his chest. It coils around the arrow, halting the erratic circles it had been drawing. It demands patience and an unyielding discipline for Taehyung to subdue his breaths’ whenever they grow untamed with his wrath.

However he always prevails his own arcane, akin to now where, a lull later, he shoves the arrow on the force aspect.

When Taehyung opens his eyes, and before he can prevent it, his index twitches toward one of the stools poised in front of the kitchen counter. The chair bursts and crumbles into splinters of wood under the pressure of the invisible gust of force.

“Fuck.”

Well.

Taehyung always prevails, he truly does, but it can sometimes be partial.

“I’m not cleaning this.”

“About Seungwon—”

“I swear to God, Kim Taehyung, if you don’t—”

“Let me finish you damn brat.” Taehyung snaps back, the two glaring at each other. “We’re bound to stumble on him one way or another, whether we want it or not.” Jungkook subdues at the statement. “When it’ll happen, you probably won’t be alone with him, but in the hypothesis that you do end up in a room where only you and Seungwon are in, if he does anything to you, if he raises his hands on you, or even if he touches you in any way you don't want, you tell me, and I’ll handle him.”

“I can handle him myself just fine,” Jungkook mumbles against the snake's head that bumps his nose.

“I’m not saying that you can’t."

“Then why should I tell you?”

Why indeed?

Taehyung pins it on his hatred for Seungwon, that it’s because if the dragonborn hurts Jungkook, it’ll finally give Taehyung a valid reason to expunge the vile pig from this world. “The why has no importance." He expects the Prince to demand an answer but Jungkook remains silent as he stares at Taehyung. “If it happens, you’ll come find me. And if you can’t or if I’m away, you tell me when I’m back. Understood?”

“What would you do to Seungwon?”

“ Understood?”

Jungkook tilts his head and levels Taehyung with a stony look. “Yes, Darling, understood."

“Don’t call me that.”

“Every action has consequences. You being a prick will lead to me being impossibly insufferable. Bratty,” Jungkook adds, echoing the way Taehyung tends to refer to the Prince as. “Today, I’ll start with pet names to find out which one angers you the most. As for tomorrow…” He pauses to smile at Taehyung. “We shall see what my lovely mind comes up with.”

Taehyung rubs the pulp of his fingers on his pulsating temples. “One day you’ll die by my hands.”

“Sounds delightful.”

“To finish what I was saying,” Taehyung resumes, driving the conversation on the dragonborn, and this time Jungkook looks curious rather than peeved, “if you want to avoid trespassing Seungwon’s territories, don’t cross the bridge at the far north of the house. It's far. Days or weeks away depending on your means of travel, but it’ll lead to his land.”

“Oh... I won’t, thank you.”

Taehyung hesitates on giving more information, fingers drumming on the table. “While dragonborns live as a united community, we’re territorial by nature." He figures that this knowledge isn’t a damning one for Jungkook to know. “We usually don’t mind at all when other dragonborns pass by or live in the lands we own and whatnot, but Seungwon is different. He resembles humans in the sense that he considers his land as his to dictate the residents of, among many other things.”

“I’ve noticed the gates to enter his city."

“Yeah, that. My parents and I have forbidden him from entering Vanae’s land but he does anyway from time to time, and there isn’t much I can do against it unless I start a civil war.”

“So he could potentially come here?”

“Nowhere near this house or my home. If he does, he knows it’ll give me the right to challenge him if I want to. There are territories amidst territories, most belonging to a family or dragonborn lineage. If a dragonborn owns a land, they can forbid another dragonborn from entering it. It’s very, very rare, but it can be done when there’s bad blood and if it’s taken to the Council.”

“Which is what you did with Seungwon, I’m assuming."

“Yeah. He’s not allowed to step a foot a certain distance around my home, and it extends to this house now.”

Jungkook folds his arms over his knees, resting his cheek on top of them as he gazes outside the bay window. “What would occur if he did?”

“Tearing him apart,” Taehyung chuckles at the fantasy. His smile drops moments later. “Is what I’d love to do, but realistically, not much would happen unless he does something highly reprehensible that would warrant his death or a fight. Like destroying my home or hurting a member of my family or someone on my land.”

“So, technically, he can still fly above the house.”

“Yes, he can.”

“That explains why he’s here.”

“ What?” Taehyung follows the spot Jungkook is observing in the garden. 

He springs to his feet. 

“This fucking—”

Taehyung marches to the exit door that he swings open. Once outside, he surveys the sky.

A thunder drifts above the canopy, low enough for Taehyung to recognize the dragon at the head of the group.

Seungwon circles the house and nearby forest. Once. Twice. Three times, his underlings staying afloat. It’s at the fourth loop that a roar sounding merry — thrilled — booms in the area. Flocks of birds flee from the trees.

Taehyung's arcane howlers at him to get rid of the threat, his nails boring onto the flesh of his arms. 

A shoulder bumps against his own.

“Why is he here?” Jungkook shivers, eyes riveted on the thunder.

“Power play. He knows I can’t do shit because he’s in the sky which doesn’t count as a territory."

“I don’t like him being here.”

Taehyung glances at Jungkook. He steps aside. “I know. Me too.”

“Can you maybe throw a fireball at him then pretend you were showing off to me and that he unfortunately was in the way?” Jungkook wonders. Taehyung huffs, the closest thing to a laugh he can emit around the Prince. “Do you think he’ll attack us?”

“No, but he can try.”

“I’m most likely the reason for his visit. He may have wanted to verify I’m here.”

“Probably.” Taehyung refuses to walk back inside until he's assured that Seungwon has left. 

“I want to piss him off."

If Taehyung had his spiky tail out, it would wag in enthusiasm. “How would you achieve that?”

Jungkook pivots to face Taehyung’s side, his gaze mischievous. “Do you want to piss him off?”

“Every day,” Taehyung replies without missing a beat, however wary of the Prince’s forming plan.

“He can see us well from here, yes?” Jungkook inquires and Taehyung nods. Jungkook chuckles. His hands find their way around Taehyung’s bicep that they squeeze. “Try not to look surprised or disgusted by my touch, okay?” He wears this meek yet content expression as he presses his chest flush against Taehyung's arm. Jungkook leans near Taehyung who fights back the urge to pull away from Jungkook the more the Prince‘s face crosses the distance. “And follow me inside the house when I tug you,” Jungkook murmurs, his breath skimming Taehyung.

“What are you—”

Then, an event rivaling those old tales of natural catastrophes devastates Taehyung into a state of pure shock.

Jungkook kisses his cheek.

Taehyung’s body locks.

It’s only thanks to Jungkook’s strong grip that he’s moved and, as the Prince had warned, he guides Taehyung inside, his fingers sliding down Taehyung’s arm to cuff the wrist. Taehyung isn’t given time to process what has gone down or to think about being disgusted and then not visibly acting as such. Instead, he peers at Jungkook.

There’s a smile curving Jungkook’s lips, the curl suggestive and playful.

Taehyung reflexively kicks the door shut behind them a second later. They make their way deeper, passing by the living room and kitchen. It’s once perched on the stairs leading to the second floor that Jungkook halts. He yanks on Taehyung’s arm to bring him by his side. Taehyung nearly tumbles face first.

A growled roar breaks through the silence, growing quieter until it disappears.

Jungkook cautiously descends the stairs. He crouches at the bottom as he looks toward the garden. Taehyung, after blankly staring at the wall, also comes down. He lays down on his hands to have a view of the sky without being perceived by Seungwon.

Remarkably, Jungkook’s devilish plan has worked, and the thunder is gone.

A pleased sound rises next to Taehyung. “As expected."

Taehyung pushes himself on his feet. “You’re…”

Jungkook trudges back to his armchair where he plops down, his form swathed by the blankets in a matter of a few seconds. “I think it pissed him off alright. God, this brief outing froze me. It’s so cold. Are you cold too, Lovely?” He asks, the serpent withdrawn in the necklace. "You can come out and nap in front of the fireplace if you want. Seungwon is gone and Taehyung won't mind since he's busy imitating a life-like wall."

Taehyung would counter the quip with a retort, but he’s disturbed by the prickles on his left cheek, aftermath of Jungkook’s foul kiss.

No one pecks Taehyung, — aside from his parents and Jimin when he had been a kid —, which could be quite pathetic in retrospect if Taehyung gave a damn about romantic proclivities and other relational matters. Fortunately, he does not. Unfortunately, his irritation flares when he realizes that the fourth person to have ever kissed him is a human prince.

Taehyung swivels around and strides to the kitchen’s sink. He turns the faucet on and after squeezing an excessive amount of soap in his palm, he vigorously cleans the place Jungkook’s lips laid on.

“You’re offensive,” Jungkook tuts from the living room.

“Your human germs are offensive."

“I’ll be going out with Dahee and Junhyun for the wedding preparations tomorrow. Do you really not want to join?”

“Yes.” Taehyung grabs a rag that he uses to dry his face.

Jungkook utters an ‘Okay’.

The house feels suffocating, more than it commonly is, and Seungwon’s impromptu visit has worsened Taehyung’s agitation.

Deciding to abandon the mess on the coffee table along with the blasted chair for a postponed tidying, Taehyung exits the house. He shifts to his dragon counterpart to scan the woods and check if Seungwon has perhaps left a poisoned gift behind, however the forest is untouched.

Satisfied with his patrol, and deeming the house safe, Taehyung retrieves his carving tools as well as logs of black walnut. He flies to one of his favorite spots in Vanae’s forest where he establishes a ‘workstation’ and he carves there, basking in the tranquil solitude.

Jungkook has been busy. Taehyung has been busy too with, well, not much, in reality, but he has been absent from the house.

A week has flown by since the move in, and Taehyung refuses to spend another day without knowing what the parading snake is. Taehyung needs to get to the end of the reptile business, and it's with an unwavering determination that he poises himself on The Armchair.

"Sit down and talk," Taehyung commands when Jungkook makes the mistake of walking by the living room one night.

Jungkook startles. "God... How long have you been sitting there?" He asks, because Taehyung has been waiting in the dark living room like some sort of Machiavellian villain.

"Let's cut to the chase." Taehyung flicks a small fireball on the logs stacked in the fireplace.

"I hoped I could avoid this talk for a little longer," Jungkook sighs and settles down in the far corner of the sofa, the flames of the fireplace illuminating him and the rest of the room.

"Fat chance. Now tell me about your snake."

Jungkook elegantly crosses a leg over the other. "As you must have guessed already, my necklace, the ruby, in particular, holds a close friend of mine."

“A close friend of yours."

“Yes, a close friend.”

“Get it out.”

Jungkook’s arms drop to rub his palms on his thighs. “I don’t know if this is a good idea right now.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Try me.”

Jungkook’s evident worry ignites Taehyung’s own concern. Jungkook had stated a couple times that his secrets would be of no harm toward dragonborns, and Taehyung isn’t so convinced anymore.

“Close your eyes,” Jungkook instructs and before Taehyung can voice out a protest, Jungkook continues. “It’s just in case.”

“I've been seeing that snake every day for a week, why would I need to close my eyes now?”

“Because you’ve been and are being particularly abrasive. You threatened me or were threatening to me. Several times.” Jungkook’s tone sharpens. “My friend doesn’t like that, and neither do I. While I can ask her to not hurt you, as I have," he adds, and isn't that worrisome, "she has her own free will that I will never repress her from enjoying. So close your eyes, please, and once I deem it safe for you, I’ll tell you.”

“Don’t try anything funny."

“I won’t, I promise.”

Taehyung has no care for worthless promises, but he lets his lids fall shut.

He can’t hear anything for a while, aside from his own breathing and Jungkook’s, or the crackling of his fire and lightning coalescing around his fingers.

“You can come out.”

Taehyung listens, focusing his senses on his surroundings.

A faint hum elevates in the room, as if a curt breeze has erupted and stopped as soon as it has arrived. It’s trailed by rustles of fabrics. The sound is soft and silky, and Taehyung can imagine the snake moving across Jungkook’s limbs.

"Wait. I have to wipe your forehead so he can see it." Jungkook's voice is higher than usual, as it would be if he were speaking to a child. “I know you’re wary of him but…" There's another rustle, trailed by a sound akin to a swipe of a wet cloth on a surface. "A token of trust has to be given, and this is the one we’re granting him like we said, yes?”

A silence stretches out that Taehyung spends wondering if what Jungkook is hiding is a genuine case of insanity.

“We’ll see,” Jungkook chuckles. “It’ll be fine. He’s not like Seohyung or Sungmin.”

Damn right Taehyung isn’t. His fingers drum on the armchair, uncaring about burning patches on the leather.

“You can look.”

Taehyung's eyes fly open.

They meet crimson ones, the black pupils a thin slit at the center. The black scales of the snake undulate, their navy hues shifting when the light of the fireplace brushes against them. There’s a hiss, the sharp fangs and teeth flaunted as the serpent coils around Jungkook’s right arm. It finds a home in his neck that it ascends, the head hovering above Jungkook’s in a makeshift deadly crown.

A phenomenon Taehyung can only describe as survival instincts compels him to avert his eyes from the snake’s and cast his gaze down. 

The serpent, which had been mundane aside from the ability to come in and out of the ruby, now emanates an arcane so potent and palpable that it is not only perceptible, but also clogging the air and Taehyung's nose. Taehyung’s own pool of arcane whirs alive in reaction, the intangible arrow of his roulette quivering, both out of a primal fear and an impulsion to oppose the threat.

Because the snake isn’t a meager, basic reptile. Of course not. It would be too easy for Taehyung’s clusterfuck of a life.

It’s a damn basilisk, confirmed by the mixed sigil carved on its forehead that had not been there before.

It's the same sigil Taehyung has encountered in the books recounting the tales of the pests basilisks were said to have brought upon humankind and dragonkind alike. Basilisks have always been considered as a myth: a creature never to exist outside of the legends murmured at night to scare children into obedience. Yet, the one facing Taehyung is tangible.

It’s right there , its stare piercing through him. 

A violent shudder runs down his spine when his and Jungkook’s gaze meet.

“Meet Revna, my friend and, well, guardian of some sort."

“You—” Taehyung’s hand grip onto his armchair. “This is a basilisk, right? You have a basilisk pet? Is that a fucking basilisk?”

Jungkook smiles with a misplaced levity. “Yes.”

“Basilisks are dead. Not even dead. They don’t exist. They’re fictitious tales. They— I’m— How did you even—” Taehyung clamps his mouth shut and bites down on his tongue. He’s relieved when pain prickles where his teeth sink, a sign that he isn’t dreaming nor has gone mad quite yet.

“At least one is alive and very much real. At first I thought she was a regular snake, or maybe a warlock’s former familiar, but after some research I had made about the sigil on her forehead, I found out she held arcanes related to death and venom, among others.”

“How the fuck—”

“I won’t share with you the how, why and what, but all you have to know is that while her eyes aren’t as deadly as they were depicted in the tales, they are still quite… corrosive.” Jungkook then pets the basilisk. “Her venom, on the other hand, is extremely painful and can be more or less deadly, depending on how venomous she makes her bite. This is why I asked you to close your eyes. She wouldn’t have launched at you, but better safe than sorry.”

Taehyung's arcane goes haywire where his breath pouch resides in his chest. “Is that all it does?”

“She,” Jungkook corrects with a venom that could be literal and holy fucking shit.

There’s a basilisk in Taehyung’s house. Has been for days.

“She. Whatever. Answer me."

“She has a couple additional abilities that I won’t speak about as they are personal and related to me, but you know about her offensive ‘powers’,” Jungkook quotes and he lifts his arms to do so, meaning that the basilisk wrapped around his left one moves with it, the serpent unbothered and seeming too preoccupied with boring an imaginary hole between Taehyung’s eyes.

What if said hole becomes real? Jungkook did say the basilisk has a corrosive glare.

“The rest of her arcane is practical for me more than anything else.”

“Will I die if I look at her?”

It’s received with a laugh. “No, you won’t. Unless she wants to hurt you.”

Yeah. Because that’s reassuring. 

So Jungkook, Amaris’ Prince, and Taehyung’s future betrothed, has somehow gotten his hands on a mythical creature, one that he appears to have domesticated like a mere griffin.

It’s complete madness.

Absolute heresy and profoundly manic.

However…

However Taehyung can’t smother the swelling curiosity that oscillates underneath the waning alarm and distrust. There’s a basilisk in front of him, her tongue peeking out of her muzzle every now and then.

“Can she—” Taehyung loudly clears his throat when his voice cracks on the last syllable like a prepubescent teenager. “Can she speak?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Not the way you think for people other than me. She expresses herself through noises and, hmm...” He muses, pensively peering at the serpent. “I don’t know how to explain, but see it as her having her own language that I can interpret. However she can perfectly understand us.”

“So she’s not human. She’s like a warlock’s familiar, and has bonded to you.”

“A little, yes. I never thought of it this way,” Jungkook says. Taehyung leans forward but he stills when the snake hisses at him. “You’re fine. She won’t attack.”

Taehyung frowns, his hands clasped in front of his mouth.

He mulls over the amount of times he has opposed a threat to Jungkook, whether through his words or actions. When Jungkook could have retaliated — rightfully so, Taehyung begrudgingly adds — and commanded his basilisk to bite or hurt Taehyung, Jungkook had instead chosen to respond with snarky remarks and impudent teasing.

It's bewildering.

"Are your parents aware of her existence?"

"Yes." Jungkook must read the surprise that colors Taehyung's face because he says "They know I have a snake that can come in and out of this ruby, but thanks to Yoongi and Namjoon, we've managed to hide from parents the rest of Revna's abilities and lineage, so to speak."

"So they don't know she's a basilisk? They think she's a simple snake?" Taehyung wonders and Jungkook nods. "You fucking viper." He reflexively says. He subdues when he feels the basilisk’s gaze on him. A heat creeps up his neck at a hiss that can easily be read as an offended snip.

Jungkook snickers and pats his snake’s head. “The amount of times I’ve had to hold back my laughter whenever you’d call me this because of how somewhat literal it is. And Revna always takes it to heart and wants to bite you each time.”

The irony isn’t lost on Taehyung.

"I'd love to see her try. I've never tasted a snake before." Taehyung wouldn't actually eat someone's pet, and Jungkook clearly realizes that because he snorts.

"You'd probably die trying to digest her venom." The basilisk must not like the subject of the discussion because she hisses at Jungkook then nibbles at his wrist. "I'm sorry, Lovely, you know I'd never let it happen."

Taehyung is about to utter a well aimed retort when the basilisk slides down Jungkook’s legs. She slithers across the wood planks to pause on the carpet in front of the fireplace. She stays there, unmoving, her head resting on the floor. 

Taehyung isn’t adept in animal or familiars behavior, but even he can understand a sulking attitude when he sees one.

"Revna, don't pout," Jungkook says while he, himself, is pouting.

Taehyung's eyes don't stray away from the basilisk. He won't growl or prowl like a territorial beast whose domain has been breached, but it's a nearly kind of moment. "If she pisses on my carpet, I'm kicking you both out of the house."

"She— She wouldn't do that! She hasn't done that once since we've arrived!"

"How would I know? Does she eat? I've never seen her eat."

"She does eat and she's trained, you idiot. She eats what she hunts in the forest most of the time. Apologize to her."

Taehyung quirks a brow. "No, I won't."

"Apologize."

"I think the fuck not."

Distracted by the argument, Taehyung belatedly notices the basilisk at his feet, the closest she has ever been to him. She creeps up the side of The Armchair. He pulls his arm far from her reach. If he's honest with himself, he's a second away from bolting out entirely.

“You’re safe, whether from a bite or a soiled carpet. She’s just curious.”

Taehyung’s gaze darts between Jungkook and the basilisk. He has half a mind to grab the serpent by the neck and fling her away, memories of the acute fangs as fresh in his mind as the venom that had slid down her teeth. However Taehyung is confident that his reflexes will save him from a bite, so he allows this temporarily open window in his defense.

Contrary to the gruesome scenarios that paint Taehyung’s vision, the basilisk only stares at him. Her split tongue peeks out of her muzzle and her body rises as she stands taller. Taehyung leans back as much as he can the closer the basilisk’s snout moves toward his own nose. 

He seizes up when the tongue flicks at his cheek. Lightning rumbles in his chest, pebbling his arms.

“Snakes use their tongue to scent, and that’s what she’s doing right now. She’s scenting you and the air surrounding you,” Jungkook explains. “She hasn’t been able to up til now since I wanted her to acclimate a little more to the place before properly presenting her to you and your family. Scenting is an important rite of passage for her, because it’s how she, how to say… How she evaluates people.”

“I’ll shock and burn her to death if she doesn’t back away in the next three seconds.” The cushioned wood of his armchair groans under the pressure of his fingers.

“Revna, come on,” Jungkook chuckles and beckons his ‘friend’.

The basilisk lowers her head. She hisses at Taehyung’s wrist, her tongue brushing on the joint before her snout bumps against it. Taehyung does not budge when the snake nestles her muzzle on the inner side of his wrist. For all he knows, that snake wants to bite his wrist, where the skin is thin and tender, an easy access to his veins.

The basilisk eventually retracts her head and turns around. 

She doesn’t give Taehyung another sniff as she crawls down the armchair, her body undulating toward Jungkook. Taehyung vigorously wipes his hand on his pants as he observes the basilisk drape around Jungkook’s shoulders.

The basilisk makes a series of noises, vocalizations between hisses and clicks of a tongue.

“What is it?” The basilisk ‘speaks’ some more. “Aah, really now? Why?”

“What? What is she saying?”

“She’s been as distrustful of you as you are of her and I, but now she’s telling me that she likes you?”

Taehyung can’t contain the — offended? Shocked? Content?! — ‘Huh?’ that escapes his mouth.

“Yeah, I don’t know why either because you’re quite despicable.”

“Fuck you.”

Jungkook snickers. He caresses the basilisk’s lithe end of the tail, a smile floating on his lips. “Would you be comfortable with her being out and about? And I mean properly, not just curled up in her ruby or in front of the fireplace.”

“You want— You want to let a basilisk roam the house? A deadly basilisk? What if she kills someone?”

“She won’t unless I’m in real danger,” Jungkook says with exasperation. “She listens to me. If I ask her to not attack, she won’t.”

“My parents and Jimin will see her if she’s let out."

“I know, and I don’t mind. I don’t want her to live recluse in the ruby when she should be free to wander as she pleases. This is why I want to tell your family next, so that it’s out of the way.”

"She can go anywhere except my bedroom. If I accidentally squash her to death, don't blame me for it."

"Really?"

Taehyung nods. He might regret this decision when he’s poisoned to death one day, but he doesn’t mind the basilisk all that much in the end — even less if he gets to study her from a distance and satiate his inquisitive mind. As long as she does not try to approach him, all will be fine, a rule that he tells Jungkook.

“You heard that?” Jungkook peers at the basilisk. The latter surveys Taehyung before turning her head to the side in a gesture Taehyung can read as a petulant agreement, having seen the same be enacted by the Prince.

“Did she just sass me?”

Jungkook erupts into a series of chirpy laughter, his cheeks bunching up around a grin. “She sure did. She agrees though, don’t worry.”

Taehyung rises on his feet. “We’ll visit my parents’ home first thing in the morning. I’m heading to bed because I’m done with whatever all of this was."

"Goodnight, and thank you for allowing her inside and being patient about her."

"I have a feeling you would have let her wander how she pleases whether I had accepted or not." Another reason why he had agreed. He'd rather not argue more than necessary, and hell knows he will do his damnedest to spend as little time inside the house as possible anyway.

"I definitely would have," Jungkook confirms with a cheeky smile.

"Fucking brat."

Taehyung climbs the stairs two by two. He feels a bit silly when once on the second floor, he grabs a towel that he rolls and tucks under the space between his bedroom’s door and the ground. Realistically, the basilisk that is the size of a boa wouldn’t fit under the doorstep, but Taehyung needs a more tangible sense of safety.

A few minutes later, he plops down face first on his bed as he mulls over the newly introduced inhabitant of the house. His thoughts trace back on all that has been said and hinted at. 

With the way Jungkook has responded to some of Taehyung's questions, it confirms to Taehyung that the Prince is hiding another secret.

A more damning one.

The Prince is a Jeon, after all, and no sensible dragonborn would ever trust this cruel dynasty.

“Oh, isn’t she the cutest!”

“I love snakes! She’s so cool and pretty.”

“Her scales are absolutely gorgeous. Their navy, iridescent hue is one I have rarely seen.”

“Can I hold her? Pretty please?”

“She said yes, go ahead.”

Taehyung, gawking at the group, surveys the exchange as Jimin lifts the basilisk from Jungkook’s arms. “Have you all gone mad?”

“What is it, Son?”

“There’s a basilisk in the house,” Taehyung exclaims. “A basilisk!”

“Perhaps, but it is an adorable one.” Junhyun nods to himself as he kindly gazes at the deadly creature. “From what Jungkook has told us, basilisks were depicted as more cruel than what they truly are. We have a lot in common with them, don't you think?”

“Right?” Jungkook enthusiastically agrees. “I was surprised when I realized that the sigil on her head meant that she is a basilisk.”

“Woow,” Jimin breathes out. “Her scales are so soft.”

“She likes it when you scratch the base of her neck,” Jungkook says. “She’s very social. You’re more than welcome to pet her.”

“Here?” The basilisk is curled around Jimin’s arms and he frees one of them to do as Jungkook instructs, itching his fingers on a spot behind the snake’s neck. The snake hisses and nudges Jimin’s fingers. “She’s so cute... Can we share custody?”

Taehyung is left to wonder if the basilisk has cast a hypnotizing spell that has put Taehyung’s family into a trance of revolting gushing.

“Son, you look a second away from passing out,” Dahee teases from where she’s perched on the dining table.

“Because I am. You’re demented. Not one of you is questioning the presence of a damn basilisk in our kitchen."

“Silly boy.” Dahee walks toward Taehyung, the two at the far back of the room. “You’re too wary for your own well-being.”

“Am I? He's the heir of the Jeon dynasty, the one that had instigated the Great War. My apologies if I'm a tad distrustful,” Taehyung snips, and Jungkook rolls his eyes when Taehyung glances at him. "He was hiding something. He still is. Something's strange about him and you noticed too."

“Just like we are. We’re not so different from him."

“Taehyung, do you want to hold her?” Jimin brightly grins.

“Absolutely not.” Taehyung steps backward when Jimin advances toward him, armed with the basilisk. “Get away from me with that damn reptile.”

“Stop being so insulting,” Jungkook mutters and retrieves the basilisk from Jimin. “She’s nice, and she likes you.”

“She does?” Jimin emits a theatrical gasp, a hand on his chest. “Strange.”

Taehyung’s glare shifts on Jimin before snapping on an approaching Jungkook.

“You can hold and pet her,” Jungkook proposes once a couple feet away from Taehyung. “As you’ve seen with Jimin, she's very cuddly.”

“I’m not doing either of those things and I swear on my tiny sculptures of fox cubs that I will flatten this place and everyone in it if you don’t stay away from me."

“She wants you to pet her,” Jungkook insists.

“I don’t care.” Taehyung is backed up against the wall, judging his escape routes.

“She won’t hurt you, I promise. Token?" Then, Jungkook has the audacity to lift his pinky finger like a child making a promise to not eat all of the cookies in the glass jar. "Taehyung?"

Taehyung stares at Jungkook, at the Prince who has given Taehyung perhaps his most precious token, if the way Jungkook is cradling the basilisk against his chest is any given.

Taehyung groans for good measure.

He then sighs, dramatically drawn out.

“I’m doing this once. One time. After that, do not ever ask me to touch her again. Got it?”

Jungkook presses his lips together, doing nothing to conceal his smile. “Mhm, got it.”

Taehyung uncrosses one of his arms. His right hand moves closer to the basilisk’s head. Everyone is watching them; Jimin and Dahee whispering to each other while Junhyun sips on his cup of tea.

Taehyung’s digits ball up into a fist so tight that it trembles. Not that the tremors are due to any sort of trepidation and excitement, of course. His index is pointing at the basilisk, an inch away from her. It touches a scale on the crown. 

He pokes a basilisk, and what if she lunges to bite his neck? Oh but her scales are soft, like watery silk.

“There.” Taehyung promptly retracts his arm. The snake is staring up at him, the eyes round and by the Elders. He must have lost his mind as well to think about sculpting a miniature version of the basilisk. “I did it. Now leave me al—”

Taehyung goes Ô so very still when a wet object that turns out to be a tongue glides on his forearm. His gaze jumps down. Before he can get a single word out of his mouth or break the wall behind him to escape, the basilisk’s head slides across the back of his hand. It slithers up his elbow and bicep. His throat wrenches around an aborted sound that is not a whine the more he feels the rippling body creep up his arm.

“Do you want me to take her away?” Jungkook asks, holding half of the basilisk’s body, the other half coiled around Taehyung’s bicep.

“Is he breathing?” Jimin says.

Taehyung isn’t certain himself.

He can feel the silky scales brush upon the skin of his neck, the collar of his shirt bunching up when the basilisk curves toward the front in a makeshift fatal scarf. A pair of eyes greet him a second later as the snake faces him. The tongue darts out every few seconds, and Taehyung can only stare in unadulterated dread. 

And awe.

The eyes are redder than Taehyung had realized, two pools of rich crimson peering back at him. The raven scales shine under the sunlight, contrasting with the white sigil drawn on the forehead. Taehyung has a lot of questions to ask, starting with why Jungkook has let go of the basilisk, but they're all erased from his thoughts by an unprecedented disaster.

The basilisk bumps her snout against his nose.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes out.

“W—What? What? Why did she do that? Did she poison me?” Taehyung doubts a nose boop can be venomous, but rationality escapes him.

“Oh no, not at all. She really, really, and I mean really likes you.”

“How odd,” Dahee, Junhyun and Jimin all say in unison.

The group erupts into a boisterous burst of hilarity.

“There’s nothing funny about a basilisk trying to strangle me!” The snake has contorted twice around Taehyung's throat by now, the cold scales freezing him. He goes through his arcane, settling on the fire aspect to warm himself up. His gaze meets Jungkook’s.

The Prince looks happy, his head tilted to the side, and his eyes are fond as he peers at the basilisk and Taehyung. Not that Taehyung believes that the fondness is aimed at him.

Jungkook crosses the distance, sending a waft of this grim flowery scent of his in Taehyung’s direction, the bleak aspect most likely due to the basilisk now that Taehyung thinks about it. The Prince places a hand at the back of the basilisk’s head, scratching his fingers at the curve of her neck. His movements are careful as he pets the serpent, never accidentally touching Taehyung’s nape.

“She’s looking for warmth,” Jungkook softly says, breaking through the silence that had wrapped around them. “You’re warm. You always are,” he adds, and memories of Jungkook shuffling near Taehyung when outside pop into Taehyung's mind, “and she definitely enjoys it right now.”

“Huh,” Taehyung eloquently says.

“Revna. Come on, Lovely, you can sleep in front of the fireplace if you want.” When Jungkook tries to tug the basilisk away from Taehyung, the limbless body tightens around Taehyung’s neck. “Revna.”

“She’s not letting go.”

Jungkook sighs. “As I mentioned, she’s a bit of a brat.”

“Color me surprised. She’s your basilisk after all."

“I’m not a brat,” Jungkook contests exactly like one would. “Revna,” he resumes, “I’ll get you a blanket as well.” The basilisk hisses, her tongue tickling Taehyung’s cheek, but she finally relents. She extends her head toward Jungkook who lifts her from Taehyung’s shoulders. “Being so difficult for the first time he holds you doesn’t bold well for any future petting, you know.”

“You make it sound like I’ll ever get near her again, which I won’t.” Taehyung crouches then ducks his head and once freed, he jerks back. “Fucking hell. Isn’t she supposed to be wary of me?”

“She was because she couldn’t scent you until last night.” Jungkook nuzzles the basilisk’s crown then places a kiss there, a counterproductive gesture to the reprimand he had uttered seconds ago. “She has a great flair. It might be a hidden ability of hers, but she’s a really good judge of character and has exceptional instincts, a bit like me. Her and I have deemed you worthy to earn our trust.”

“What an honor. Gonna bask in it away from you both.” Taehyung marches to a sofa in the living room that he drops on.

“Oh to be a little mouse spying on the two of you every day,” Jimin forlornly sighs, already seated on the other couch along with Dahee and Junhyun.

“Come join us,” Dahee offers to Jungkook who obeys, finding a spot on the vacant armchair. “We need to speak about a few matters.” Snacks are laid on the coffee table and Taehyung grabs one of the pastries his father has baked. “The preparations for the wedding are going well. The invitations have been sent. There will be a few more visits to Amaris, including one where you will need to be present, Taehyung.”

“Alright.” Taehyung can handle one meet-up with the Queen and King.

“The ceremony will mingle humans and dragonborns traditions both. I’ll explain it in more detail later on."

“It’ll be spectacularly beautiful,” Junhyun grins.

“It certainly will,” Dahee smiles and pats her mate’s thigh. It fades seconds later, replaced by furrowed brows and a gentle gaze that she settles on Jungkook. “On a more serious note, thank you for trusting us with Revna, Jungkook."

"Of course. I intended to present her to you as soon as possible." Jungkook has a blanket covering his legs, the basilisk forming a heap underneath. "As I've told you, my parents are not aware of the countenance of her arcane, and I would like for it to remain as such."

"This goes without saying. Only your friends and us are aware she can manipulate the Arcane?" Junhyun inquires and Jungkook nods. "Your secret is safe with us."

A forgotten matter flickers in Taehyung’s head. “Are your two friends coming to Vanae soon?”

“Yes! They’ll be moving into a house not too far from ours after the ceremony,” Jungkook grins. “I can’t wait. I miss them a lot.”

“The warlock too?”

“It won’t be anything official for Yoongi. But he’ll warn the Queen that he has some business to attend overseas, which isn’t entirely false. He’ll simply forget to mention that it has to do with dragonborns.”

“Ehh. I’ve never met a warlock.” Jimin leans toward Jungkook, and he's sporting this look of interest on his face. Taehyung’s eyes narrow. “How’s your warlock friend? Is he nice?”

“He is, but he’s a little aloof at first,” Jungkook answers. “He’ll warm up though, don’t worry.”

“Reminds me of someone.” Jimin gives Taehyung a snide glance.

Taehyung flips him off.

“Now,” Dahee interjects, “if there isn’t anything else important to mention, I would like to discuss the wedding.”

As Dahee and Jungkook launch themselves into thorough explanations of the ceremony’s different steps, Taehyung zones out, surveying Jungkook and the basilisk cuddling in the armchair.

Chapter Text

For the past eleven days, Taehyung has been dutifully maintaining his ignorance of the Prince and the basilisk. He’s doing quite well, all things considered. Jungkook has taken the hint and surrendered his attempts at launching any trivial chit-chats with Taehyung.

Taehyung’s good spirit can also be explained by the fact that Jungkook has been spending a lot of time out of the house, the Prince and Taehyung’s parents occupied by the wedding’s arrangements. So, whenever Jungkook comes back from his trip, Taehyung is the one to vacate the place, their interactions limited to fleeting, one-sided greetings in the morning.

Taehyung has been practically living like a stray cat, one that only enters its house to nap or devour a fare.

Or spy on Jungkook, because the latter cultivates his nightly routine like a well oiled clock.

Taehyung had thought Jungkook had acclimated pretty well to the life at Vanae, so he can’t fathom why Jungkook would need to go out every night for a teary catharsis — if it is what Jungkook does.

So, as he had promised to himself, Taehyung has initiated his investigation anew.

Since Monday, Taehyung stalks after Jungkook whenever the Prince exits the house for his midnight walk. He keeps a greater distance between them during his trailing, ensuring that Jungkook can’t somehow hear or sense Taehyung’s presence. Jungkook always haphazardly pauses at some point to sit on a tree stump, rock or cold grass. The basilisk doesn't leave the ruby much when outside of the residence.

There isn’t any recurring element to the brief journeys aside from their daily existence at night. They seem useless, for lack of a better word.

But there has to be a reason, right?

Yesterday, Taehyung had even employed his hunting methods and had gone against the wind when he had followed Jungkook, in case Jungkook or the basilisk had caught Taehyung before and that this had been why the outings had been so damn worthless. Still nothing.

Today is Wednesday.

Jungkook is seated at the dinner table, opposite of Taehyung, however a couple chairs down to Taehyung’s right. Taehyung used to exclusively eat in his bedroom, but it had quickly become tedious with the constant back and forth between bringing his plate and cutlery or retrieving a forgotten seasoning.

The basilisk is, as she often does, sprawled in front of the fireplace, her long body loosely curled above the comfortable cushion she tends to spend her days on. Taehyung doesn't know if snakes — or basilisks in particular — are the kind of animals to hibernate during winter, but with the amount of sleeping and napping and more sleeping the basilisk does, Taehyung is inclined to believe so.

Nevertheless, the wedding is planned for a few weeks later, and Taehyung supposes this is as good a time as any to confront Jungkook.

“Where is it that you go every night lately, and why?”

Jungkook’s eyes move from his finished meal to fixate Taehyung. “Hm?”

“You leave the house every single night. What could you possibly be doing in the forest?”

“For someone who mentions at each breath that he does not care about me, you sure ask a lot of questions."

“Because this human stranger, heir to the Jeon dynasty, invaded my house and is doing hell knows what in my forest." Taehyung discards Jungkook’s comment about territorial dragonborns that follows his accusation. “That doesn’t inspire trust.”

“I’m going out. That’s all."

“Yeah, try that again.”

“I’m exploring the forest."

“Is it about the primordial stone?”

“Yes and no?” Jungkook vaguely answers. “I am just exploring, but if I stumble on something that could help me elucidate the mystery surrounding the stone, then…” He shrugs.

“And what, pray tell, could you ever find in a deserted forest that would be useful for your investigation?”

“The forest isn’t deserted at all. Plus it seems arcanic, unlike Amaris'."

“My family and I are the only ones living nearby. Are you meeting up with someone?” It would partially make sense, however it wouldn't explain why Taehyung has never caught any foreign scent in the forest’s outskirts. “Are you?”

Jungkook rises to his feet as he gathers his plate, strands of hair brushes across his irked gaze. “You remind me of Seungwon in that aspect. Demanding. Controlling.”

“I’m not controlling. If I was, I wouldn't allow you to flee at night, yet I’m not holding you back, am I?”

“‘Controlling’ was a poor choice of word, sure,” Jungkook chuckles without any mirth. “Maybe ‘unpleasantly forceful and inquisitive’ fits better how you’ve been.I remember you urging me to extend an indifference toward you, which I have, and I’d appreciate it if you'd pursue your own requests. I can do what I desire with my days, or nights. Whether I am meeting a friend or not is absolutely none of your concern.”

“I’m having issues with a human wandering off in Vanae’s forest every night.” For all Taehyung knows, Jungkook could have lied at the dinner with Taehyung’s family and could be working with Amaris’ rulers to wound Taehyung's family from the inside. The basilisk could be the first step, and Taehyung feels recklessly foolish to have ever allowed its presence in the house.

“I can assure you that I’m not conspiring any doom like you seem to be so convinced of. I don’t have you, your family or dragonborns in my line of sight.” With his back to Taehyung, Jungkook begins to wash his dishes. “We both have a common goal.” He twists his head to meet Taehyung’s eyes. “Unearthing what ploy my parents are hatching.”

Nothing about Jungkook’s words sits right with Taehyung. There has to be a reason behind his nightly departures, and Taehyung promises himself to figure out what it is even if he has to ultimately tear the answers from Jungkook’s mouth.

The few participation Taehyung had offered to the wedding had regarded his apparel for the ceremony, along with the design of his headpieces and ceremonial present for Jungkook, as human traditions oblige. He and Jungkook had ordered their garments from a well-renowned bespoke tailor in Vanae’s central town, while Taehyung had tasked Jimin with the creation of the headpieces.

Taehyung is torn out from his meandering thoughts by a chirpy exclamation.

“If it isn’t the future and beloved husbands! Come in, come in! We've closed shop today for you both,” Seokjin announces.

He ushers Taehyung and Jungkook inside, the bell ringing when the door is locked shut.

Taehyung hasn’t frequented the shop in a while, and he contemplates the entrance as he’s led to a large room where a podium is planted at the center, a wide mirror attached on the wall facing it.

Taehyung searches for the tailor’s assistant and when he doesn’t see him he says “Hoseok isn’t—”

“Jin! You owe me! You better give me a raise ‘cause I’m not being paid enough for this,” Hoseok yells from a room at the back, his voice growing clearer as he enters the fitting room. “Do you have any idea of how much I had to bargain with that fishy— The newlyweds!” He grins at Taehyung and Jungkook. “How has it been, huh? I’ve heard that—”

“We’re not married yet,” Taehyung gruffly says, but the pretense at annoyance falls flat with the smile that stretches his lips when Hoseok tugs him into a hug and oats his back.

“Don’t be such a sourpuss," Hoseok says before pushing Taehyung aside to greet Jungkook with a formal bow. "A pleasure to meet you, Prince of Amaris. Now…" He pivots to face Seokjin. "Give me a raise.”

“You’ve found what I wanted?” Seokjin gasps.

“Yes. For a price. That you'll pay back,” Hoseok states with a finger that he digs in Seokjin’s chest.

“Yes, yes,” Seokjin waves off to admire the roll of silky fabric that he delicately feels between his fingers. “This is marvelous. Absolutely marvelous. Make yourself useful and stash this in our storage room, will you?” He adds, handing the roll back to Hoseok. “You both.” Seokjin claps his hands once. “Which one shall I start with?”

Taehyung throws a thumb in Jungkook’s direction.

“Me, I suppose,” Jungkook chuckles. 

“Allow me to show you the suit first,” Seokjin says, a hand between the Prince’s shoulders to guide him toward the podium. “It is splendid. You’ll love it.”

“I have no doubt I will.”

Taehyung waits until the two blabber-mouths are out of earshot and view to make his way toward the front desk where Hoseok is hunched over, scribbling astronomical numbers on a paper. “Hey. Hoseok.”

Hoseok looks up. “Yup?”

“You still visit Eden, right?”

Hoseok squints as he pinches his quill between his thumbs and indexes to carefully place it down. “Yes, my Lord, I do. I came back from it today, actually. Why?”

“There’s an object or spell I’d like to acquire, but I obviously can’t go there myself.”

Hoseok’s mouth opens around a drawn out ‘Oh.’ He leans closer to Taehyung right as the latter does, his eyes positively shining with curiosity. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know if it exists, or if it could be made, but do you think you’d be able to find an object that can detect arcane? All kinds of arcane. Whether belonging to a dragonborn or warlock, ancient or not.”

Hoseok grabs a root of licorice from Elders know where and tucks it between his teeth. “What’s this about? Sounds fun.”

“I want to clarify an issue,” Taehyung opts to say. He likes Hoseok, having aided him in the past and vice versa, but he’s not certain of how much of his distrust for Jungkook he should share with the dragonborn.

“I know a warlock.”

“You know an everything,” Taehyung snorts.

“Damn right I do,” Hoseok affirms with a cocky smile. “I can get you and them in contact, potentially.”

“Them?”

“I don’t know their gender. We’ve never spoken face to face and I’ve never met them.”

“And you work with them?”

“They get done whatever job I need to be done and it's all that matters to me. I don’t ask questions and never should you when it concerns… underground activities.”

“Can you get me in touch with them? I’d rather not have anyone know that I’m involved with the black market,” Taehyung mumbles. It wouldn’t look good for Vanae’s future leader, plus he refuses to step foot there again, even if willingly this time.

“They might have some questions to ask you though.” Hoseok munches on his root of licorice. “They have this sort of special book they use to speak with their customers."

“Could I borrow it?”

“Sure. I need to ask them first. The warlock’s a stickler for rules. If they agree, I’ll trust you with the book but don’t lose it or damage it, otherwise I won't have any other means to contact them.”

“Yeah of course. Thank you," Taehyung says, eager to elucidate the mystery encapsulating Jungkook.

“On one condition.”

Taehyung internally sighs. 

It had been too easy.

 “Listening...”

“Fifty lapis and I’ll lend you the book for two weeks.”

“Fifty lapis?! That’s nearly three thousand coins!”

“It’s a precious book,” Hoseok counters and folds his arms behind his head. “I don’t do charity work. If you can’t pay, then our deal is off.”

Taehyung glares at him. “Thirty lapis and two weeks.”

“Forty-five lapis. Two weeks.”

“Thirty-five, two weeks, and I'll tell you what it’s about.”

“Deal!”

“Fucking noisy thief."

Hoseok waits, head supported between his hands. “Tell me now.”

Taehyung glances behind. Seokjin and Jungkook are conversing about the suit, not a sliver of attention given to Taehyung and Hoseok. “The Prince bothers me.”

“Uh? Really? He’s been nice though?”

“Don’t let it fool you,” Taehyung scoffs. “Something is up with him and I want to know what. Call it instincts plus the fact that he confirmed himself to have a secret.”

“We all have secrets,” Hoseok reasons, but Taehyung can’t relate to it when Jungkook is at the core of his wariness. “Are you sure you’re not being paranoid?”

“It’d be paranoia if it wasn’t justified.”

“I’ll never understand your hatred for humans. It’s gotten a bit crazed and irrational for the past few years, Taehyung. They’re not nearly as bad as you make them seem to be at all and—”

“When can you get me that book?” Taehyung interrupts, more snippy than intended.

“I’ll ask the warlock first. When and if they agree, I’ll lend you the book. You owe me one.”

“I’m paying for this so I’m not owing you anything,” Taehyung rebuts, aware of Hoseok’s tendencies to never forget a debt.

“Still a little shit, huh?” Hoseok chastises with a flick on Taehyung’s forehead.

Taehyung smacks the hand away. “This little shit got you out of jail several times. Speaking of, if anything, you’re the one who owes me.”

“Aaand this is my cue to go! I’ll be right back,” Hoseok whispers in a conspiratorial voice as he wiggles finger guns at Taehyung and walks backward. “Gonna wrap your pretty present and I don’t mean your betrothed.”

Taehyung barks out a laugh. “Can you fuck off already."

Hoseok does as he fades behind a door. Taehyung stays where he is, listening in on the excited, mundane chat, his back to the fitting room.

“Isn't Jungkook charming?” Seokjin shouts.

“As much as a damn pebble,” Taehyung shoots back.

“Taehyung, be kind to your betrothed."

“I don't think this minuscule, bitter brain of his understands what kindness is,” Jungkook retorts. Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh erupts in the shop while Taehyung’s face etches around a scowl. “Fucking viper,” Jungkook says in this atrocious imitation.

Taehyung should be more offended, but he's taken aback by the Prince swearing, and so he makes his way to the fitting room. “Did you curse?”

“Only to mock you,” Jungkook confirms. “Otherwise I don’t like swearing. It’s vulgar.”

“Well shit, that’s fucking unfortunate.” Taehyung internally snickers at the moue that purses Jungkook’s lips.

Taehyung slouches on a loveseat facing the round platform, however opposite of the mirror. He slumps down the sofa as his legs spread, an arm resting on the armrest to cushion his cheek with the back of his hand, and he slowly closes his eyes.

“Now,” Seokjin begins a few minutes later, tearing Taehyung out of his impromptu nap. “Would you mind stepping out of your current clothes? There’s a changing room at the back if needed.”

“Oh it’s no trouble.” Jungkook lays his cup of tea on the tray brimming with baked goods before climbing on the podium. He undresses, soon left in nothing but his underwear, socks and jewelry.

Taehyung doesn’t mean to stare but he does anyway.

Jungkook is well-built, with muscular thighs and strong shoulders. His figure is athletic yet softened in some assets that Taehyung promptly flutters his gaze away from as it flies upward. Another, more peculiar trait draws Taehyung’s attention instead.

It’s the scars peppering Jungkook’s skin.

There aren’t many, most of them thin, light beige lines. However a few of them are more prominent than the rest: jagged and rougher, of a pink hue where they slash the waist and hip. A third one is on the back of Jungkook’s left arm, this scar more round and brown — the result of a cigar burns, Taehyung realizes.

It has Taehyung speculating about who the instigator of each mark is. He doubts Jungkook’s parents would allow traces of their ‘discipline’ to show that would be seen by the maids and others. It must not be the basilisk either who has shown a resolute protectiveness for the Prince. So it only leaves one suspect, unless Jungkook has concealed the existence of more perpetrators.

Taehyung’s gaze locks with Jungkook’s in the mirror. 

Jungkook is the one to avert his own seconds later.

“Taehyung, can you step away?” Seokjin says, his eyes shifting between the two betrothed. “It’d be bad luck to see Jungkook in his suit before the ceremony.”

The wedding is bad luck alright already, but Taehyung complies without protests. He stands and walks to the shop’s entrance to settle at the front desk. Seokjin fiddles with the curtain hooked against the wall, and after winking at Taehyung, he tugs the drape over the archway, effectively negating any attempt at snooping.

Less than twenty minutes elapse between the minimal adjustments to Jungkook's suit and Taehyung taking his place on the podium.

“Let us work fast, sour boy,” Seokjin quips and gathers his needed tools.

Taehyung clicks his tongue, unwillingly justifying the sobriquet by frowning. He peers in the mirror and catches the top of a head snooping from behind the curtain, a pair of enrapt eyes pinned on him. “ Viper. ”

The curtain jostles in Jungkook’s grip. “Yes?”

Taehyung catches a glimpse of a snake's head peeking out of the collar of the bear fur coat Jungkook is wearing. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” Jungkook says. The basilisk's tongue darts out, craning her neck to seemingly have a better look.

Taehyung's head twists to glower at Jungkook. “Don’t.” 

“I’m not allowed to look at my betrothed?”

“I’m not your anything, so st—” A needle pokes Taehyung’s rear.

“Get your suit, you know where the changing room is. And you,” Seokjin points an admonishing finger at Jungkook, the basilisk gone. “Stop snooping if you don’t want to curse your wedding.”

“The wedding is already cursed,” Taehyung and Jungkook both say at the same time, muttered for one and caricatural for the other.

“You’re so predictable,” Jungkook snickers and sashays away, the curtain swaying in his departure.

Taehyung pinches the bridge of his nose. “I will fucking kill him.”

“Remember that you can’t kill me!” Jungkook pipes up.

Seokjin's hilarity is schooled into a neutral nonchalance when Taehyung's glare drifts on him. 

Taehyung strides to the changing room and yanks the curtain close. His suit awaits him inside and he doesn’t spend much time reviewing it, preferring to also expedite today’s fittings. He can take a better look at his outfit during the wedding.

When he walks out, the process is similar to Jungkook’s, Seokjin pinning the fabric here and there in some places.

“So.” Seokjin starts. “How has life been with Amaris’ Prince?”

“Horrifying.”

Seokjin laughs at Taehyung’s dramatics as he crouches next to him. “He’s nice, and you should be as well.”

“So has everyone said. Good thing I’ll do as damn well please.”

“You’re still as insolent as ever.”

“Won't change a winning team."

Seokjin works in silence for some time, Taehyung mulling over what could be the subject of his next wood carving project.

“Hoseok was absent at the time, but I remember what happened back then, Taehyung,” Seokjin says, his grievous timber ripping through the serenity. Taehyung’s muscles tense, both out of humiliation and ire. “The enmity you nurse for humans is comprehensible and warranted, but Jungkook deserves less… antagonizing. It’s easy to see that his kindness is genuine, even if you suppose that he hides something.”

“How do you— Hoseok ,” Taehyung sighs.

“Him and I come as a package deal,” Seokjin grins and lays his tools on an elegant mahogany trolley. “Nevertheless, I’ve said it in the past, but if you ever need help with anything, our door is always open.”

Taehyung deflates. He uncrosses his arms when Seokjin motions him to. “Thank you. I’m sorry for my… My moodiness. I’m just…”

“Temperamental, as per usual.” Seokjin chases away the apology with a wave of his hand. “There’s a problem I wanted to touch on with you."

Taehyung listens, thankful for the steer in the discussion.

“Fuck,” Taehyung curses as he steps out of the tailoring shop, his and Jungkook's arms burdened with a suit enveloped in black garment bags.

“Yes, I agree. Do you like your suit?”

“Come on.” Taehyung nods to the side, him and Jungkook strolling down the streets.

“I love mine, if that wasn’t obvious. Apparently they made it so we match together.”

“Of course they did,” Taehyung mumbles.

“Where are we going?” Jungkook inquires minutes later when they take a turn leading them to the city’s bustling center place.

“Jeweler for my headpiece and your ring.” Taehyung stops in front of the boutique. He drapes his protected suits over Jungkook’s arms but keeps with himself the book Hoseok had given him before they'd left. “Wait here.”

“You got my ring done?” Jungkook exclaims, a tad too noisily for Taehyung’s liking.

It’s not as though Taehyung could show up to the wedding without one. “Yes?”

“I didn’t expect you to.”

“Me either."

Jungkook bursts into laughter, to Taehyung’s confusion.

Later that night, Taehyung descends the stairs and enters the kitchen, the arcanic book in his hand. He’s about to toss a paper bag in the bin when Jungkook speaks.

“Where did you get that?”

Taehyung’s gaze slowly stirs on the Prince who’s fixing the book. “A friend of mine gave it to me. Why?”

Jungkook stares, a blink breaking through. He throws the comforter from his legs and reaches Taehyung’s sides in hurried steps. Taehyung does not even shun the Prince when the latter unceremoniously steals the book from Taehyung’s hand. He’d rather study this newfound bizarre reaction.

Jungkook squints at the front cover, then at the spine that he traces with the pulp of his fingers. He emerges out of his trance after examining the back cover. “Oh. Never mind. It looks similar to a rare edition of one of my favorite books. I loved the story in it, it was unexpected in various ways.”

Bullshit.

“What is the story about?”

“A man who eats hearts to survive.”

This is also bullshit, but Taehyung has to question how Jungkook has managed to instantaneously formulate such a gruesome idea. “My book isn’t about that.”

“Is this what Hoseok gave you?”

“Yes."

They’re testing each other, Taehyung recognizes.

Taehyung by entertaining Jungkook’s inquisitiveness, and Jungkook through his questions, and Taehyung can tell Jungkook finds it strange to hear them being answered when Taehyung would usually reject the curiosity.

Jungkook hums, then, without any other remarks, he sinks into his armchair and heap of comforters.

Taehyung lets the oddity fly for now to walk up the stairs and lock himself in his bedroom. The curtains are tugged shut, the moonlight seeping through the fabric and casting a light blue glow in the room. An oil lamp is lightened on the nightstand framing the bed, giving enough luminosity for Taehyung to inspect the book.

He’s sitting crossed legs against the bed’s headboard, the book ominously resting at his feet. He reads the instructions written on the note laid next to his quill.

It doesn’t sound too convoluted.

Taehyung takes his quill, dips it in the jar of ink and flips the book’s cover to the first page. He browses the tome. Hoseok must have spoken to the warlock through this book, yet no traces of a previous agreement or ink can be seen on the textured paper.

So, and without much overthinking, Taehyung writes his first name, age, along with the word ‘prismatic’ that Hoseok had whispered to him. He turns to the second page and waits for a response.

The pulsations of his heart hasten.

As a dragonborn, Taehyung is familiar with the Arcane, however his ease with it diminishes when it involves warlocks, in spite of his exhaustive knowledge regarding arcanes.

His fingers drum on his knee while he twirls the quill with his other hand. He hears some footsteps downstairs. They pause for a brief moment before their pit-a-pat continues. Then silence envelops the house again, some distant rustle disturbing it.

Taehyung writes a ‘Hello???’ and counts to thirty.

Still nothing, no sentences are written back to him.

Taehyung’s parched throat clicks when he swallows. He tosses the quill on the bedside table then climbs off his bed to make his way down to the kitchen. Jungkook is in his — apparently — favorite spot in the house, head resting on top of his own armchair’s backrest, his legs drawn up to support the notebook he’s scribbling on while the basilisk is in her own spot by the fireplace.

When Taehyung comes back upstairs, he promptly spots the dark lines that weren’t there before. He scurries on his mattress and peers at the book. 

“By the Elders…"

The sudden apparition is, admittedly, quite spooky, and his hair raises on his forearms

Nothing is written back for a while.

The ink of Taehyung’s quill remains on the paper and so does the warlock’s in-between Taehyung’s phrases. Taehyung sighs, berating himself for not probing Hoseok for more.

A haphazard and downright unhinged theory pops into his brain.

The book had been ‘quiet’, up until Taehyung had left his bedroom and had arrived in the kitchen. Jungkook had been writing in a book then, and right after it, when Taehyung had gone up once more, a reply had been given.

It’s a coincidence. Taehyung knows this. It’s him attempting to link together two occurrences independent from one another.

But what if?

Jungkook had reacted strangely to the sight of the warlock's book.

A grumble of his stomach tilts the scale toward insanity.

Taehyung finds himself in the kitchen once more, this time to retrieve some slice of bread that he slathers with jam. Jungkook is brushing the feather of his quill along his lips, his eyes cast on the ceiling. His head darts low, as if something in his opened book has commanded his attention. Taehyung waits until he sees Jungkook’s quill move across the paper to walk — read: race — inside his bedroom.

He freezes at the doorstep.

This can’t be…

Jungkook is human. 

The most human to ever human in this world. Seohyung, Sungmin and Taehyung’s parents have never mentioned or hinted at arcane flowing through Jungkook’s veins. Because Amaris’ prince is human.

Isn’t he?

Taehyung doubts when he snatches the book and reads the answer. His disbelief heightens when he mulls over the timing that had been questionable. Twice. And it’s rendered more tangible by Jungkook’s earlier reaction. 

Maybe there’s no correlation. Maybe it's an accidental happenstance. Or perhaps Taehyung has finally lost what sliver of sanity he has left.

Taehyung treks to the first floor and plants himself on The Armchair. Jungkook glances at him, but he doesn’t grant Taehyung any more attention as he focuses back on his task.

The jar of ink rattles when Taehyung places it on the ground. Quill in hand, eyes set on the arcanic book yet focused on Jungkook’s every motion, Taehyung responds to the warlock.

Taehyung surveys Jungkook in his peripheral vision. The Prince is settled crossed leg, two books on his lap. He’s making notes on the one propped on his right thigh. Nothing appears in Taehyung's book.

However, when Jungkook scribbles in a page of his left book, writing blooms in Taehyung’s.

No fucking damn way.

Taehyung does not jump to conclusions yet — or at least not more than he already has. It could still be a coincidence. An eerie and absurd one, but still a coincidence. So Taehyung gives Jungkook the benefit of the doubt.

Surely, if the Prince is the warlock Hoseok has been striking deals with, Jungkook wouldn’t be foolish enough to do so right in front of Taehyung.

The exact same pattern happens.

No reply. Then Jungkook writes, and letters form on the paper.

Taehyung surges from his armchair, the arcanic book sliding off his grasp to tumble down. He marches toward Jungkook, and unceremoniously snatches the left book. 

He sees too late the opened vial of ink on Jungkook’s knee, the small jar vacillating before spilling its content on the blanket and right book.

“What are—”

Taehyung scans the book.

Drawings of herbs, flowers and more flora fill the double pages. Comments about a plant’s family, their name’s ethnology, along with their characteristics and a detailed description of their shapes and colors are neatly annotated next to the sketches.

The book Taehyung had believed to potentially be of an arcanic nature is an exhaustive — and pleasingly organized — botanical compendium.

Jungkook wrenches the notebook from Taehyung’s grip. He looks down at his lap where the other tome’s pages are drenched in jet black ink. Revna slithers across the room and carefully crawls up the couch. She probes her snout against Jungkook's wrist but he shoos her away. She vanishes inside the ruby.

Taehyung is torn between the uncomfortable churning within him and this vindication that he had intended to fulfill, however not in the way he had predicted it to unravel.

He had thought that perhaps, this was it. That he had finally unearthed Jungkook’s secret, but Taehyung isn’t so sure at present. Especially when Jungkook’s gaze that flickers upward ignites with a stifled anger. Or when Taehyung glances at the warlock’s book behind him and sees a word materializing on it while Jungkook is not writing anything. 

“You ruined the book I’ve been working on for months,” Jungkook rasps, his hands clenched around his books, and Taehyung worries for a split second that the Prince may swing one at him. “You’re—” The muscles of his jaw shifting underneath his skin.

If Dahee had been here, she would have slapped the back of Taehyung’s head and urged him to apologize to Jungkook. However the house is devoid of residents, saved for the one positively fuming at the second standing still like an idiot.

“I can't even begin to fathom what may have through your mind to do this,” Jungkook continues, his voice leveled with a glacial edge, “or what, exactly, is wrong with you, but do not touch my belongings without my permission, let alone yank them away from me.”

“I wanted—” Taehyung's mouth clicks shut.

Akin to a couple weeks ago, bile rises at the back of his mouth at the sole concept of uttering those three words Jungkook would deserve to hear. After all, Jungkook is not part of the humans Taehyung would slaughter if he were to meet them again, but Jungkook is still a human, and a Jeon at that.

“Whatever.” Jungkook stands. Taehyung has to take a couple steps back to save his chin from a headbutt. Jungkook gathers his notebooks, quill and glass jar, uncaring of the ink that transfers on his fingers. “I don’t know why I thought you’d apologize, but that’s clearly asking too much of you."

“Listen—”

“No.” Jungkook’s harsh gaze is smoothed by a deceptive indifference. “Don’t speak to me.”

Taehyung bristles at the tone but makes no mention of it. Jungkook doesn’t bother taking the soiled comforters with him, leaving them on the couch as the stain of ink spreads through the fibers. Taehyung swallows down the guilt. He shoves it so far down his chest that it becomes a distant, forgettable sting. 

Humans have no merit for sympathy and remorse. 

Taehyung knows this better.

It's with this conviction that he enters his bedroom after picking up the warlock’s book. He crashes on his mattress, a sudden tiredness weighing his body. He reads the warlock's response and resumes their negotiations.

The reply is instantaneous, too fast for it to be Jungkook who’s walking through the corridor. The bathroom’s door opens and locks a moment later.

Fucking hell.

Taehyung startles when a curve is drawn in the middle of the third page. More lines trail after the first one, all connecting, some crossing together. A thicker one paints a half circle, coming into contact with those at the top and forming what Taehyung recognizes as a pouch.

Taehyung’s brows knit. In spite of his growing perplexity, he does as ordered and extends a hand toward the page.

His fingers meet void where they would normally feel the texture of the paper. They traverse the book, deep where their pulp should touch the bed sheet. Yet, instead of the soft cotton, Taehyung’s fingers graze on what feels like leather. They curl around an object that he drags out of the paper.

The pouch rests at the center of Taehyung’s palm. It’s of the same color and material of the book’s pages, and what is uncanny about it, is that the edges of it, its shape and folds are drawn with black ink. He squeezes the pouch and the new wrinkles are also made of ink. Taehyung imagines that this is what holding a four dimensional sketch would look like.

If Taehyung is completely honest with himself, he’s both fascinated and unnerved by the warlock’s arcane. He has rarely approached warlocks, let alone interacted with them. At least not in a positive light.

Writing appears in the blank space where the pouch had once been drawn.

A heat creeps up Taehyung’s cheeks. 

He stands and clears his throat as he opens the bi-fold doors leading to his walk-in closet.

A feet tall and wide bank vault is situated at the back, tucked against the wall and concealed. Taehyung crouches and unseals the combination lock. Five thousand coins won’t fit inside the pouch, but the warlock hadn’t seemed worried about it, and so Taehyung shrugs to himself as he begins to fill it.

The pouch, to Taehyung’s surprise, seems to be bottomless, neither expanding or being jammed to a point of saturation. 

He writes back to the warlock minutes later, his vault’s content depressingly diminished.

Taehyung flips the book shut then pries it open. 

His and the warlock’s writings are gone, the pages as blank as they were when he had first acquired the book. 

He does not have any secret drawer or chest to leave the arcanic book in, so he opts to place it in his vault. Once done, he lays down on his bed, an arm thrown over his face.

A sense of accomplishment appeases Taehyung’s mind. He’ll eventually know more about the basilisk' abilities and if Jungkook is hiding another arcanic object akin to the necklace. Plus it might be of aid for the primordial stone as well that he assumes to be arcanic.

A knock jostles Taehyung from his wanderings.

When Taehyung pulls the door open, it’s to a frowning prince peering at anything but Taehyung.

“The heater isn’t working,” Jungkook mumbles, shuffling on his feet. “Water’s too cold to shower.”

“The heater is mechanical. It tends to freeze and get stuck during winter.” Taehyung's eyes drift to the ruby dangling around Jungkook’s neck. “You need to light the fireplace underneath.”

“How long will it take to heat it up?”

“Couple hours," Taehyung answers. Jungkook nods and turns on his heels. Before Jungkook can walk away, Taehyung says “Or a few minutes if I warm it.”

Taehyung doesn’t check to see if Jungkook follows him down to the basement.

Arcane already slotted on the fire aspect, Taehyung flicks a tiny ball of fire at the burner of an oil lamp attached on a wall as he steps inside the basement. He reiterates the motion with the fireplace installed under the heater, albeit with more vivid flames to ignite the cut logs of oak. A hand tucked in his pants’ pocket, the other sprawled on the heater, Taehyung summons a warmth in his palm to heat the barrel of water without melting through the metal.

“Should be good,” Taehyung announces after a brief instance.

Jungkook pads up the stairs first, Taehyung on his toes. The two climb to the second floor where Jungkook wordlessly slips inside the bathroom.

Taehyung pauses at the landing. His fingers drum on the handrail, his head turned to the bathroom's wooden door.

He blows out a puff of air.

This good deed should suffice as an alternative apology, he guesses. He won’t exert himself in earning a forgiveness he has no concern for.

The bathroom door swings open. 

Jungkook stills when he notices Taehyung. “Do you need something?”

“I don’t need anything and certainly not from you,” is Taehyung's reflexive retort. He internally winces.

“Right. My bad.”

“I didn’t mean to do that. With the ink and your book,” Taehyung adds.

“Then why did you snatch it away?”

“I just— I thought… you were… scheming something,” Taehyung mutters, less and less convinced by his own words, and so is Jungkook if the disbelief that washes across his face is any hint.

“It’s as though you haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said during that one dinner with your parents.”

“I listened, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“You have to understand that it is in my best interest to not antagonize you because you are against my parents, just like I am. The enemy of my enemy is my ally.” Jungkook crosses the distance, a hand on the staircase’s rail, halting a couple feet away from Taehyung. “I don’t know why it’s so impossible for you to accept this.”

“It’d be easier if you told me your other secret.”

Jungkook levels Taehyung with an unimpressed look. “Nice try, Taehyung. Maybe next time you should—”

A rumble cuts through the end of Jungkook’s sentence. The sound is faint, muffled by the walls and stirring from above.

Jungkook looks at the ceiling even if he can’t see anything. “What was that?”

“A thunder,” Taehyung growls and swivels around. He rushes down the stairs, the pitter-patter of Jungkook’s slippers chasing after him.

“Thunder? It’s not raining though?”

“ A thunder,” Taehyung corrects. “A group of dragons.”

“Oh.”

Yes. 

Oh.

It’s nothing unusual for thunders to fly above Taehyung’s home, except when the roars of dragons’ sweeping wings erupt in the middle of the night.

Taehyung and Jungkook rush through the living room. 

They observe the night sky through the bay windows.

What looks like a group of twelve or fifteen dragonborns is drifting through the sparse clouds. They’re flying high: tiny, dark speckles noticeable in the moonlight. Taehyung can’t tell from the ground who might be at the head of the thunder. He’d have to turn and fly off himself, but he doesn’t need to for a presumption to flare in his head.

Jungkook must have drawn a similar conclusion because he says “It’s Seungwon, isn’t it? It’d explain why he was there earlier. Are dragonborns nocturnal?”

“Not more than humans.” 

The thunder continues its path to the south-east, toward the series of islands connected to Vanae’s land. If he and Jungkook are correct, and Seungwon is the one leading the squadron hell knows where, there has to be a goal at the end of this trip. 

“Pisses me off so fucking much. Seeing him parade in my land, threatening me because he knows I can’t do shit against him,” he curses, his fingernails sinking into his crossed arms. “Should've snapped his damn neck when I had the chance.”

Taehyung can nearly touch — taste — this untamed viciousness that crawls within his arcane. It meddles with his breaths, two of them coalescing together. Soon, petrichor suffuses his nose, his senses alert and on edge. An involuntary wave of goosebumps pebbles his skin, doing nothing to alleviate the ache in his scars.

Jungkook shudders next to him. Taehyung’s muscles strain to smother the swelling storm.

Taehyung’s wrath rarely submerges him in this manner anymore. Throughout the years, he has learned to placate it, as well as repress it when the situation demands it, or when he simply does not have a choice.

However now, his efforts and growth feel nonexistent. Worthless. Rendered null by the bloodthirsty impulse to shift and be the reason why Seungwon’s head would be severed from his body at last. 

One of Taehyung’s feet slides on the ground. However, before he can give life to his fantasy, Jungkook speaks up.

“It wouldn’t be wise to pursue him now, while outnumbered and unaware of their destination. They were high enough to be inconspicuous to most. Purposefully,” Jungkook starts, and Taehyung listens. “I believe it’d be smarter to have Seungwon assume that our enmity from him stems from a silly yearn for vengeance, rather than because we suspect his actions. He might be hiding something. This midnight flight is odd. If we hide the suspicions we nurture toward him, it’ll be easier to spy on him since he won’t suspect a thing."

Jungkook's voice is calm and controlled, a stark contrast to how Taehyung feels. A certain gentleness coats the Prince’s words, sharpened by assurance, and this dichotomy strangely helps Taehyung’s fingers in relaxing around his arms, his gritting teeth stilling.

Jungkook's calculating eyes search for Taehyung’s, and when they lock together, he smiles. “Being underestimated comes with a lot of advantages. If we allow it to happen with Seungwon, who is vain yet laughably moronic, God knows reducing him to a destitute man will be an easy task. If he’s doing anything particular, because we aren’t—”

“He is."

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” The warning Seokjin had shared with Taehyung during the fitting of his suit is still fresh in his mind. “There’s been rumors, allegedly. Seungwon is apparently dissatisfied with his lands. He wants to expand or conquer, probably both. He has his eyes set on Vanae's prolific lands.”

Seungwon wouldn't be crazy enough to start a war against Taehyung, but the dragonborns always has some cards up his sleeve.

What if one of those cards is Jungkook?

Jungkook living with Taehyung would be the perfect occasion for Seungwon to kill two birds with one stone. But Jungkook’s hatred for Seungwon would be fabricated, if so. If there’s one thing Taehyung retains no distrust over, it’s the potent animosity Jungkook feels toward Seungwon. Plus according to Seokjin, those hearsays had been floating around long before the announcement of the wedding.

Taehyung sighs.

In addition to the plague killing dragonborns every three months, the unknown dangers the primordial stone may elicit, and Jungkook’s parents that may be plotting dragonborns’ demise, Taehyung will also have to worry about Seungwon’s actions.

The wedding has not even begun, yet it has already proven itself to be a challenging misfortune.

“That's worrisome,” Jungkook hums. “Either way, keep in mind that I hate Seungwon, perhaps not as much as you do, but still. We at the very least have that in common.”

“Who do you hate more than him?”

“My parents."

“And who do you hate more than your parents?”

“No one,. And yes, not even the prick who ruined my botanical book because he’s a paranoid idiot. You may despise me, but I don’t share that sentiment.”

Taehyung ignores the quip. The storm within him has settled down, the petrichor abated to a lingering scent of wet earth. “I’ll prioritize your parents and their nonsense about the primordial stone. Seungwon can wait.”

“Should we still keep an eye on him?”

Taehyung internally grimaces at the ‘we’. “Yes.”

“Do you think—” Jungkook’s lips press shut. He hugs his torso, brushing his hands up and down his sides.

“What?”

“There isn’t much I can do if a dragonborn decides to take me away or kill me. Which in retrospect does not matter much, but I’d rather not die so soon if possible,” Jungkook adds with an uncanny levity.

“Seungwon won’t hurt you so recklessly.” The dragonborn may be impulsive, but he wouldn’t risk a war against Vanae. “Even less once married to me. He would not only have Vanae as his foe, but also Amaris.”

“It could happen if he tasks someone to do it for him and pretends to know nothing afterwards.”

“Are you implying that I’m that someone?” Taehyung wonders, offended that Jungkook would even suggest this.

“No.” Jungkook snorts, inelegant and mocking. “You’re too brash and blunt for that. You don’t strike me as the kind of man to have the patience to manipulate.”

“Fuck you,” Taehyung spits and Jungkook laughs. “I can if I want to.”

“I never said you can’t, just that you won’t.” Jungkook’s amusement paints his lips with a curl. “I could disappear tomorrow." Taehyung studies the Prince, the latter’s expression smoothing to apathy. “I could, and no one would notice until it’s probably too late. As much as I hated my life at Amaris, there was some sense of security there that I lack here.”

“You could wear a leash that I’d hold and walk you around with so that you don’t vanish into thin air, how about that?”

“What is it with you and me on a leash? Is there something I should know, dear future husband of mine?”

Taehyung has never met someone that matches his wit and bounces his snark with impudent bratty quips. It’s disorienting. And annoying.

So after scrutinizing the empty sky, Taehyung pivots to stride toward the stairs. “I’ll leave before I make you disappear myself.”

“Goodnight,” Jungkook sing-songs.

The retort lies on the tip of Taehyung's tongue, but his thoughts trace back to the ruined book when he catches the tainted blankets, and he, for one of the very few times in his life, shuts up.

Back in the tranquility of his bedroom, Taehyung retrieves the warlock’s book.

Black lines are drawn on the paper, the curve creating the shape of a hand, the middle finger upright while the other fingers are bent.

Taehyung rolls his eyes.

Taehyung slams the book shut.

Chapter Text

Taehyung should have probably delayed the consumption of his breakfast for a later time when the piece of scrambled egg he’s munching on goes down the wrong pipe.

The cause for his early death is a ring, one drawn on a page of the warlock’s book. It looks ordinary, aside from how realistically painted it is. The jewelry is a simple band of gold with engravings on the inner part that Taehyung can’t read nor decipher. He coughs and clears his throat, washing down the egg with a gulp of water.

A knock elevates in his bedroom, trailed by the Prince’s voice.

“You’re alright in there?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung croaks out.

“I’m going out in a few to carry on with the wedding preparations, I’ll be back tonight,” Jungkook announces, as if Taehyung cares for the Prince’s whereabouts.

“Yeah."

“What an enlightening discussion.”

Taehyung glares at the door, hoping that Jungkook can feel it through the wood.

He waits until the pit-a-pat of Jungkook’s slippers is gone to peer at the writing cascading under the ring’s painting.

Taehyung does not waste a second to reach for the ring. Its material feels both like paper and metal, a strange dichotomy that has him rolling the jewelry between his fingers. He pinches it, exerting enough force to bend it if it were a regular one, yet it does not budge, even when he tries to — foolishly — crush it. 

To give the ring a try and see for himself if it properly functions, Taehyung presses on the emerald gem then rests the ring in the book and closes it. When he opens it, the nature of his breaths and potency appears, along with those of the arcanic book. 

Some rummaging sounds erupt from downstairs. 

Taehyung takes the ring. After hiding the book under his mattress like a teenager stashing away their diary, he rushes out of his bedroom to join Jungkook on the first floor.

Jungkook is seated at the kitchen counter, eating his breakfast. The golden chain holding the ruby is fastened around his neck, swaying whenever he hunches to egg a bite of egg. In a baffling sight rivaling the one of a cat, Revna, a basilisk, is playing with a ball of yarn, kicking it away with her snout then chasing after it in zig-zags.

Taehyung busies himself with washing his plate.

The ring is slung around his index, more inconspicuous this way. However, it is trickier to find the perfect moment to press on the gem and scan the basilisk, Jungkook and the ruby all at once. Taehyung also hopes to get in the scan the book Jungkook had temporarily lost after Woobin’s attack.

Jungkook unknowingly solves the issue by calling out the basilisk while playing with his necklace, a distracted motion the Prince often does, Taehyung has noticed. Jungkook takes out his book. The first page is filled with writing that Taehyung makes an effort to not read. 

“What else can that necklace do?”

Jungkook’s head darts up. “Hm?”

“You’re always fiddling with it,” Taehyung remarks with an accusatory tone, watching in the corner of his eyes the basilisk reduce the distance and enter the area of action for the ring. "I'm assuming it can be more than a vessel for the basilisk."

“Not everything I do is a secret ploy. Nothing is, actually."

Taehyung dries his hands with a rag. He rounds the kitchen island to halt in front of Jungkook, and he opts to be bold rather than skittish to erase any potential suspicions. 

So Taehyung grabs a hold of the necklace. He twists the jewelry this and that way, making sure that the gem adorning the ring is pressed on by the ruby. “Is it linked to your secret?” He wonders, partially to satiate his curiosity, but also to detract Jungkook from the contact that he may find odd from Taehyung who has done his damnedest to limit any contact between them.

For once, Jungkook is the one to jerk away from the proximity. He retrieves the ruby from Taehyung’s grasp, his gaze wary when it meets Taehyung’s. “It’s a ruby that Revna can come in and out of. Nothing more.” Jungkook pushes himself off his stool and walks to the entrance door where he slides his winter apparel on. “Still don’t want to join?”

“No. I’m busy today.”

“Have a good day then, prick."

Taehyung makes his way to the stairs while Jungkook walks through the garden in the direction of Dahee and Junhyun’s home. Once out of view, Taehyung dashes to his bedroom. He lifts his bed with a tad more strength than necessary, the mattress, pillows and blankets thrown on the floor.

Taehyung seizes the book. He removes the ring and after placing it in the middle of a blank page? he closes the front cover that he swings open a brief lull later.

A series of writing greets him.

Taehyung’s lips part the more he reads.

Next is the list of arcanes the ring has detected in its zone, and Taehyung skips over his own listed breaths to read the other type of arcanes.

“Fucking hell.”

Taehyung doesn’t allow himself to spiral quite yet. He takes a piece of paper to jot down all that is written in the book in case it vanishes before he can memorize it all. It’s only when he has transcribed the list of properties that Taehyung rests his quill on his nightstand and folds his hands in front of his face.

Taehyung would yell an ‘I fucking knew it'!’ if he had not been so unnerved by his discovery.

He had predicted that the ruby and basilisk would contain some semblance of unusual arcane, however the results have exceeded any speculations Taehyung's mind may have formed.

"Where the fuck are the ancient arcanes from?" Are they perhaps detained in the ruby if it works like a cage? Or maybe there's another being like the basilisk in it, one that Jungkook has kept secret.

Taehyung muses about the sentience that is specified as ‘partial’.

He wonders if it's about the basilisk or the ruby itself. After all, if transmutation is one of the ancient arcanes, the ruby could have once been a dragonborn, warlock or human. But even then, the sentience should be defined as full. The ruby would still retain the living being’s mind and soul that would have simply mutated into another vessel.

However transmutation is a complex arcane with a plethora of intricacies that Taehyung hasn't gotten to learn.

He raises the note to his face, rereading the properties over and over again. He needs to know more and he’s about to scribble down some questions when more writings appear in the warlock’s book.

The ring disappears from the page. Its list of properties does as well, and Taehyung is thankful for his forthcoming. He pushes his note further away from the warlock’s book in case the latter can somehow erase the ink from it too.

“How—”

Taehyung’s teeth click. His brows furrow and he rubs the pad of his thumb along his lower lip. 

Confirming the warlock’s inquiry is too risky, yet it is also pointless to lie. The warlock already knows the answer, it seems.

Taehyung slams the book shut and throws it against the wall, an indent left where a corner hits.

Taehyung doesn’t knock when he storms inside Jimin’s house.

Clangs and rattles can be heard from the back of the residence where the workshop is. Taehyung strides there and barges through the already tattered door that winces under the harsh motion.

Jimin is hammering a hot plate of metal on which Taehyung can see shapes of spoons and forks. His tank top that had once been white is tucked in black working pants, the clothes along with the dragonborn in them dirtied with soot and dust.

Jimin looks up, arm in the air. “I’m still not done with your headpiece. I’ve been working on this commission for a nearby village,” he says and strikes the hammer down, the cling punctuated by orange sparks. “If this is why you’re here.”

“I don’t care about any of that.” Taehyung slams the door shut.

“Hey! I haven’t sunk this many hours into your headpiece for you to—” Jimin doesn’t get to finish his complaint. Taehyung grips Jimin’s arm, uncaring of the mixture of oil and sweat that transfers on his palm. Jimin tosses his hammer in a bucket where the water sizzles. “What’s wrong with you?”

Taehyung leads them to a table. He moves aside the mess littering the surface to slap a piece of paper. “Read this.” 

“Good morning to you too?”

“Jimin.” 

“Is Jungkook with you?”

Taehyung drops on a chair. “He left an hour ago.”

A second chair scrapes across the wooden planks as Jimin tugs one to slump down on it. “Is this why you’re here? Sneaking around your future husband?”

“Jimin. I’m serious. Read it.” Taehyung slides the note toward Jimin.

“Okay, okay. Let me see.”

Jimin’s face goes through an array of expressions, a few worried, some unreadable, and most of them confused. A gasp breaks through the silence as he lowers his face closer to the note. “Wait, composition two is the ruby? Is this about Jungkook’s necklace and basilisk?” Jimin wonders and Taehyung confirms it. “But what about the other arcanes?”

“That’s what I’m wondering too.”

“How did you manage to get this list?”

Taehyung summarizes all that has gone down, and the explanation is received with a smack on the back of his head.

“You dickhead,” Jimin curses while Taehyung rubs at his scalp. “I can’t believe you did that to Jungkook.”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Not spy on your betrothed and breach his privacy?” Jimin reasons with an incredulous raise of his hands. “You’re better than that. I get your suspicions because he’s a human, but if you keep going down that road, you’ll be exactly like those humans you hate so much.”

It stings. 

Taehyung doesn’t feel remorse for what he's done as much as he’s hurt by Jimin’s evident disappointment.

There’s a plague killing dragonborns, and if Jungkook has a connection with it, Taehyung is ready to go beyond and above to figure it out.

“I didn’t have a choice."

“Yes you did.” Jimin flicks the paper toward Taehyung, frustration swarming his gaze. “You could have—”

“You don’t understand what is going on, and it’s fine, it doesn’t matter. What does right now is—”

“What the fuck do you mean by it doesn’t matter? And you still haven’t told me why you’d spy on Jungkook like that.”

“Because I had to.”

“No you didn’t! You could have gone about this so many different ways, yet—”

“I don’t have a damn choice! I don’t when dragonborns—” Taehyung freezes. His mouth claps shut.

Jimin exhales. He rubs a palm over his lips before carding his fingers through his hair. “Let’s— Let’s calm down before either of us destroys my furniture. When dragonborns… what?”

“I can’t tell. Don’t ask.”

Jimin must catch onto the plea, or perhaps he hears the desperation in Taehyung’s low timber because he nods, a mute understanding passing between them. 

“Alright. What's this about the ruby and the basilisk, then? Why— What does it mean? Why are there so many unknown ancient arcanes?”

“Jungkook is hiding something, and another thing is… occurring.I thought that the two of them are perhaps related. I wouldn’t put it past the Jeon family. This is why I did what I did, and I know it’s wrong but I frankly do not care,” Taehyung preemptively adds when Jimin opens his mouth to speak. “I don’t trust him, Jimin. I can’t trust him, and I do less now with this note.” 

Jimin shakes his head. “I don’t want to help you with this, but...” He surveys the paper. 

“Jungkook implied that his basilisk has more than one arcane, which is confirmed there. It mentions a partial sentience. I initially assumed it was about the basilisk, but what if it’s something else? What if Jungkook has a second creature he can control somehow? And what if said creature is able to manipulate an ancient arcane like transmutation arcane that allows it to change into the form of a ruby? It wouldn't be so far-fetched to assume it can wield other ancient arcane.”

“What do you want to do?” Jimin inquires.

“See this?” Taehyung points at the types of arcanes marked as unknown. “The ring couldn’t find what they are because they are that ancient, banned and/or forbidden.”

Jimin groans. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“I do. You’ve got some paper and quill?”

Jimin takes a minute to retrieve both, leaving his burden on the table along with a beaten up cup filled with ink.

“We should make a list of arcanes that once existed but were banned or went extinct,” Taehyung starts and grabs the quill then scoots closer to Jimin. “There’s quite a few, but we can add arcanes like blood, flesh or life manipulation, s—”

“Life?” Jimin echoes, leaning on his elbows to watch what Taehyung is scribbling.

“It was an arcane that could once control the literal life of someone. The users’ arcane was so corrosive that to manipulate it, they had to extract the lifeforce and/or arcane pool of another living being,” Taehyung explains, unable to keep at bay the interest that hastens his words. “It was an extremely powerful arcane, but one that came with a horrible cost. Half of the users self-destructed, while the other half were either killed or had their magic erased because of how the fundamentals of it went against humanity and life itself.”

A silence stretches in the room, interrupted by Jimin.

“Sometimes I forget how much of a nerd you can be when it comes to the Arcane."

Taehyung kicks Jimin’s shin. “As I was saying, solar and lunar arcanes were also erased and banned after a warlock had nearly extinguished the sun, and a dragonborn the moon during a war. Transmutation is also forbidden and gone.” Technically, he muses. 

“What’s transmutation?”

Taehyung awards Jimin with a snide look. “Do you know anything, you uncultured swine?”

Jimin kicks Taehyung back. “It’s not my strong field.”

“Transmutation has ‘mutation’ in it for a reason, dumbass. It allowed someone to change the shape, biology, genetics and matter of everything and anything. It could also alter arcanic properties, among other complex things I won’t delve into to not exhaust you,” Taehyung says with a taunting smile that Jimin responds to with a flick of his middle finger. “There was once the story of a man whose body was changed into one of a spoon after messing around with the wrong warlock.”

“By the Elders… That sounds horrible. I’d rather die than have my mind trapped into a spoon."

“That’s why it was banned. That’s also why I’m adding it to the list.”

“It says partial though. I doubt it’s a dragonborn or human.”

“Who knows what partial means in that case,” Taehyung shrugs and writes the arcane type. “What else is there…” He taps the quill’s feather on his lips. “Chronomancy, memomancy and necromancy were also banned eons ago and disappeared. Arcanes related to gems aren’t banned but they did vanish after humans’ greed killed groups of dragonborns who could create precious gems. I think I read something about abyssal arcane but I’m not sure. It might have been a tale,” he hums. He adds a few more arcanes to the list. “I can’t think of anything else. Any suggestions?”

“Isn’t anti-arcane or however it’s named banished too?”

“Akyronomancy. Anti-arcane for simpletons. It’s not banished, per se, but it is highly regulated and controlled. Only a few warlocks and dragonborns can use it. One of our Elders can, and I’m fairly certain the Oracle can as well.”

“Uh. I see.”

“If it wasn’t for anti-arcane, how could any other type of arcane be expunged from the world?”

“Good point, good point. Is that all?” 

“It’s already a lot. Too much, and we have nothing to reduce the possibilities."

“Now, now, no need to be such a grumpy grouch." Jimin takes the quill. “We can cross a few of them off by compiling what we know.”

It takes a while to do so and some arguing as Taehyung and Jimin debate on which ancient arcane Jungkook’s ruby and basilisk could possibly have. Jimin never fails to mention how despicable what Taehyung has done is, but he still begrudgingly helps.

They succeed in narrowing down the list, however not enough to be entirely useful.

Taehyung sighs and throws his head back. “Yoongi won’t give us a hand, obviously, so we have no way of confirming anything anymore.”

“It says that the ruby is made of 70% blood. I might be thinking too simply, but maybe this is it. It’s blood arcane and laced with transmutation.”

“But why would Jungkook have that? It makes no damn sense.”

“Well, you and I can’t answer that. Only one person can,” Jimin concludes. “Although we could always ask the parents. They may know something.”

“Let’s.”

“Mom won’t like what you did though."

“She’ll understand,” Taehyung mumbles. “And if not, I’ll use you as my shield.”

“Hey!”

Jungkook can’t quite pinpoint what it is, but he feels a little… A little left out, for lack of a better word.

Something has happened ten days ago, and he hasn’t been able to fathom what it is.

Taehyung is aloof and odd, as he tends to be, but it has reached an extent that it never has before.

First there was the book incident and the outburst that Jungkook still can’t understand the origin of. The second occurrence had been the very next day: an unknown event had transpired, one that had spawned a veer in the mood, not only between Jungkook and Taehyung, but also between Jungkook and Taehyung’s parents.

The intangible rift separating them is as evident as a square in the middle of a row of circles. 

Taehyung hasn’t spoken a single word to Jungkook. He maintains a greater distance than before, to a point where Jungkook has only seen his soon-to-be husband twice in the past week and a half.

Dahee and Junhyun, who had been incredibly warm and welcoming, are more subtle than their son. If Jungkook hadn't been an observant man, he wouldn’t have noticed the discreet changes in their demeanor, like the way their smiles don't quite reach their eyes anymore. Jimin is the only one whose behavior has not changed, still treating him more akin to a friend, than a stranger to be wary of.

Jungkook, as independent as he is, can’t ignore the swelling upset within him.

He doesn’t know what he has done wrong to seemingly destroy the trust he had begun to build between himself and the Kim family. He has an inkling that something has been related to them, most likely by Taehyung who appears to be the bane of everything.

Revna hasn’t liked the shift in the ambience at all, voicing out a leery displeasure whenever Taehyung wordlessly brushes past them. Jungkook has been doing his best to appease her growing ire, but it’s impeded every time they're faced with everyone’s standoffish behavior.

This morning, Jungkook is eating breakfast at the Kim Family main house. Jimin is there as well, and for once since the book incident and the day that had followed, the mood is lighter, perhaps aided by the general somnolence floating through the abode.

“Taehyung, can you fetch a pack of water from the basement?” Dahee asks.

“I’m not going down there,” Taehyung huffs.

The remark does not phase anyone. 

Anyone except Jungkook who finds it odd. Taehyung looks peeved, but why would he be? It’s not the first time Dahee asks him to grab something for them, and Taehyung has never had any problem with complying.

“I can go,” Jungkook proposes. Perhaps he can find out for himself what troubles Taehyung.

“Thank you, Dear,” Dahee smiles.

Jungkook stands and leaves the table, walking to the basement after Junhyun has told him where to find the door.

He pulls it open and makes his descent. He lightens an oil lamp with the pack of matches next to it and holds onto it to illuminate his path.

Jungkook would label the place as mundane if it hadn't been for the smell suffusing his nose. It’s one he can recognize among a plethora of other scents, one that, if Jungkook were asked to describe it, would do so by using one single word.

“I’m gonna snoop around a bit,” he warns Revna as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. “Keep an eye out for me.”

Revna exits the ruby to slither down then toward the entrance of the basement where she stays to watch guard. 

Jungkook trudges inside the main room of the basement, a second and smaller one adjoined to it. He sees a corridor at the far back on the right, and after checking in on Revna to make sure he's alone, Jungkook walks down the narrow path.

There’s a door at the end of it.

Jungkook rests his palm against it.

Engravings appear on it. From the bits of knowledge Jungkook has acquired through Yoongi, he understands that the signs are runes.

He’ll never have the time to draw them in his book while being down there, and he also can’t think of an excuse to loiter in the basement again unless it’s requested, so Jungkook mumbles to himself some mnemonic patterns to remember the runes and be able to redraw them once in the privacy of his bedroom.

“Say,” Jungkook begins in a whisper. He leans near the stones and takes a whiff, his nose wrinkling in response. “You smell it too, yes?” Revna, back around his shoulders, inches close. She recoils and emits a noise of agreement after sniffing the air. “Why… Why does their basement smell like death?”

It doesn’t smell rotten, per se, but death has always been accompanied by a peculiar hint of grimness that cannot be mistaken with anything else. Jungkook has been acquainted with it many times in the past when he would 'visit' a cemetery.

It propels forward the question of why the Kim family basement would ever retain such a deep, ingrained scent. Those aren’t circumstances that can haphazardly happen, especially with how potent the scent is, permeating the walls and bizarre door. It’s been residing there for a while . Years.

The pulsations of Jungkook’s heart accelerate. His balled up hands clam up as they curl around the pack of water.

He makes no mention of the scent when he enters the kitchen. 

His lips curve upward when Dahee and Junhyun smile at him, the latter relieving Jungkook from his burden with a ‘Thank you’. “It’s dark down there. I almost didn’t see the oil lamp,” Jungkook chuckles and sits back on Jimin’s left.

“Taehyung, Jimin and I have our fire to light the room," Dahee explains.

“I’m guessing the oil lamp is a courtesy of Junhyun, then.”

“That it certainly is,” Junhyun laughs. “I’ve learned my lesson after the few times I nearly broke a bone when I had ventured into the basement without any light.”

Jungkook focuses on what he does best.

He laughs, smiles and utters the occasional quip welcomed with a witty retort on Jimin’s part. He does so even if tremors run through his hands that he hides under the table. Even if his heartbeat resounds between his eardrums and drowns the rest of the chit-chats. Even if it reminds him of how he had felt when he had met Seungwon for the first time. 

Jungkook excels at pretending: pretending to be happy, pretending to not be scared while shoving down the apprehension to drape it with a veil of complacency.

So Jungkook continues to smile.

And plan his options.

Because if the Kim family turns out to be worse than any despicable man Jungkook has met in his life, Jungkook will have to run away, both from his own family and Taehyung’s.

For the next eight days, Jungkook can’t shake off the growing conviction that something is deeply wrong.

Before, it had just been a sense of discomfort and vigilance, however now, it has grown to this intangible hand that coils around his throat and squeezes without ever letting go.

Jungkook and Revna are more alert around Taehyung’s family and the man himself. Jungkook pays more attention to what he says and does, attentively choosing his words so as to not trigger anyone’s upset.

The worst in all this is that Taehyung has noticed.

It reads like a dance between them, where Jungkook and Taehyung prowl around the other. They play a game of pretense, waiting to find out who will tear off the mask the other wears, yet neither of them speaks out.

It’s worrisome.

Jungkook still hasn’t unraveled what has provoked this abrupt veer. Only one major occurrence has stuck in his mind due to how unusual it had been: Taehyung has touched Jungkook’s necklace.

Taehyung’s arcane is an umbrella Jungkook has yet to fully delineate. The dragonborn can manipulate several types of arcane — or breaths, as he calls them. Perhaps one of them had allowed Taehyung to gain some kind of damming knowledge about Jungkook.

Either way? Jungkook has concluded that the change is either related to: 1) Taehyung touching the necklace, or 2) something Jungkook has done that Taehyung has seen when he had come back to the house that night.

Unnerved by the situation, Jungkook copes by exploring the forest

He doesn’t believe the Kim family to be a bunch of reprehensible outlaws, but with the scent of death in their basement coupled with their odd behavior, Jungkook isn’t sure of anything anymore.

For all he knows, they have been lying through their teeth about everything and are secretly murdering people and perhaps Jungkook is next on their list of victi—

Revna firmly nudges his mind.

Right. 

He has to remain level-headed and think. Jungkook has been looking for any means to escape if need be, and it starts off by learning his way through the forest surrounding the house.

“Taehyung?”

“What,” Taehyung gruffly says, sitting at the coffee table.

“Could you show me how to walk to Vanae’s main city?”

Taehyung doesn’t look up from the map he’s been studying. “Why?”

‘Because I want to have a sure path to use to run away from your potentially murderous family' , is what Jungkook thinks. “Because I’d like to familiarize myself with the city and its inhabitants, so I want to be able to get there without needing you to fly me.”

“Why.”

“I just told you? Plus I’m curious.” Jungkook shrugs to deflect Taehyung’s suspicions. Taehyung, as per usual, visibly does not trust Jungkook’s words. “Could you show me?”

“No. I’m busy."

Jungkook had not expected Taehyung to agree, which is why he jumps into the second part of his plan. “I’ll do it myself then. It’s fine.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I wonder what would happen if I were to get lost in the forest and meet an unfortunate end. What would be said if words of my death spread? That it could have been avoided if my betrothed had taught me my way in the forest on his land.”

A glare pierces through Jungkook’s gaze.

Bingo.

Jungkook should be scared, or at least on edge at his bold yet clever dilemma, but he’s occupied with fighting off the cocky smile that threatens to paint his mouth.

“What do you say? Should we find out?”

“Fucking viper.”

This time, Jungkook can’t suppress his smile. “Seohyung's lessons had their merit.”

Taehyung taps his quill on the table, his watchful eyes never straying away from Jungkook. “Let’s say I show you, you’ll need a good sense of orientation to not only remember the path, but also not to confuse two trees together. Getting lost in a forest is very, very easy.”

“I’ll remember."

“You sound exceedingly confident.”

“Rightfully confident."

“Alright.” Taehyung leaves his quill on the table and rises to his feet.

Jungkook gawks at Taehyung who walks to the entrance doors. “Wait! Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Let’s put your confidence to the test.”

This is too easy.

Taehyung should — would — have protested more. He wouldn’t help Jungkook simply for the sake of doing so, so it’s with an ever growing cynicism that Jungkook says “I’ll go get change.”

Minutes later, Jungkook is clad in more befitting clothes for an outing in the cold forest. Taehyung is waiting outside, his hair rustling at the breeze drifting through the grass. The hefty, wolf fur cloak is draped over Taehyung’s shoulders. Jungkook has to admit that he’s envious of it, the cloak looks particularly fluffy and warm.

“M’ready.” Jungkook blows air between his palms, hands covered with a pair of gloves.

Taehyung marches to the outskirts of the forest, Jungkook on his trail. “I’ll lead you to a place from which you'll guide us back to the house, and then to the previous spot, understood?”

“Understood.”

Jungkook remains behind Taehyung as they trek through the prolific forest.

Pitter-patter of animals running through the woods, chirps of birds and snaps of twigs accompany the two of them while they venture deeper into the woods. The wind hisses through the leaves, and the breeze that slithers between the trees propels gusts of cold air on the duo.

He doesn’t see any of them during the trek.

Jungkook admires the fauna and flora. He catalogs as many recognizable traits of the forest as he can, mentally retracing their steps to engrave in his mind the paths they're taking.

The walk could be deemed as aimless if it had not been for the way Taehyung purposefully has them pass through sinuous trails or walk by places with such minimal dissimilarities that a lesser man would assume Taehyung is leading them in circles. 

Thankfully, Jungkook notices.

“You’re not very sly."

Taehyung’s head twists to peer behind his shoulder.

“You’re obviously making it extra difficult for me.”

“Of course."

Taehyung may be brash and callous, but his rough edges are softened by a mischievousness that can be more or less playful, more or less devious, often punctuated by a taunting smile or snide chuckle. Their absence here throws Jungkook off.

“I’ll still succeed though,” Jungkook challenges.

No rebuff leaves Taehyung’s mouth, instead he says “We’ll see about that.”

Jungkook sighs and focuses back on his task.

He does have a great sense of orientation, so walking them back to the house shouldn’t be too laborious. Plus he can always rely on Revna — if the latter awakens from her impromptu nap.

Jungkook regrets not bringing his sketching book with him. They stumble on gorgeous flowers and plants here and there that he’d love to study, in the hypothesis that he survives the Kim family's basement.

A gasp escapes his mouth at a flower Taehyung strides next to. Jungkook crouches in front of it.

“Taehyung!” Jungkook makes a beckoning motion with his hand at Taehyung who's surveying him from a safe distance. “Look at this one. I really should have taken my botanical book,” he mutters through pursed lips, arms folded around his knees. “It’s so beautiful.”

The colorful plant in question is nothing like any Jungkook has ever seen before.

It looks like a Lily of the Valleys, however in a much larger size. The main stem is of an off-white blue, as though made of snow, branching out in smaller arched stems with a flower dangling at the end. Each of the seven flowers has the same shape, with the petals joined at the stem then curving into a round, bell-like form the size of a fist. The leaves are elongated and thin, looking like petals themselves with their baby blue hues as they gracefully frame each blossomed flower.

What fascinates Jungkook is the array of pastel yet glowing colors. A flower is blue, while another is purple, a third red and so on. There’s a golden one at the very top clashing against the black of another flower.

Jungkook’s fingers itch to touch and paint.

“Do you know what it is?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me more about it?” As Jungkook has anticipated, Taehyung answers with a ‘Why?’ that Jungkook chuckles at. “Why do you keep responding with ‘why’ whenever I ask for something?”

“‘Cause you’re a cunning viper, among other things."

“A curious viper. There’s a difference of a few letters.” Jungkook rests his cheek on his knee. He musters his most genuine expression of interest — and perhaps cuteness, even if he does not think Taehyung is sensible to that, but Jungkook loves to believe that he can be charming even to those seemingly immune to it. “Please? I’d like to know what it is, it’s really pretty.”

Taehyung’s internal debate etches his face for a moment. 

Jungkook waits, and his patience is rewarded with a sigh as Taehyung crosses the few feet separating them.

Taehyung squats next to Jungkook. “Touch the red flower,” Taehyung orders, but Jungkook is dubious, to say the least. “Do it.”

Jungkook blames it on his endless curiosity when he caves in. 

He nudges Revna awake just in case, then he pokes at the red flower. He makes a noncommittal noise of awe when the petals swiftly retract on themselves, curling into a tiny ball. The reddish hues are gone where Jungkook’s finger came into contact with the flower, replaced by a light blue similar to the color of the stem.

“It’s called a Nix Septem Sana, commonly referred to as The Seven Nixes, or nixes for short."

Jungkook swallows down his bewilderment at the requested yet unexpected explanation. “The Seven Nixes?” He knows Latin and can translate himself the meaning of the plant’s name, but he’d rather listen to Taehyung, feeling strangely enraptured in the man’s husky timber.

“‘Nix’ means ‘snow’ in Latin, ‘septem’ means ‘seven’ and ‘sana’ means ‘heal’. Nixes only grow in winter and in dragonborn lands, as far as I know for the latter.”

Taehyung gathers some soil in his palms. Jungkook winces at how cold it must be, but the dragonborn is unfazed. Taehyung holds the ball of dirt that he brushes on the red flower. The petals swell and expand, and the flower regains its former size and red hues. Then, and after dropping the ball on the ground, Taehyung bumps a knuckle on the flower that shrinks and loses its color once more.

“It reacts to warmth,” Jungkook whispers in awe.

“Yeah, this one does,” Taehyung confirms with a side glance at him. “Each stem has seven flowers. They’re quite rare and coveted outside of winter.”

One of Taehyung's hand raises, two of its fingers clasped together and pointed at the nixes. It draws a quick, swiping motion, accompanied by a sharp whistle of wind that erupts in the air and startles Jungkook. The main stem of the plant is now sliced at the bottom that Taehyung catches.

"Oh," Jungkook breathes out. “How did you—”

“Either you stay quiet and let me explain, or I don’t,” Taehyung warns for the second time.

Jungkook raises his hands in defense.

“Each flower has specific properties, all linked to healing one way or another, directly or indirectly,” Taehyung resumes and brings the golden bell under his nose. “Some are easy to use, others require intricate and delicate manipulation. Some need to be burnt to ashes, others to be mashed, and one to have the nectar of its petals extracted, and so on. The complexity varies from nix bell to nix bell, but also in correlation to what use you seek from them. For example, the emerald nix bell makes an excellent antiseptic for opened wounds.”

“The ointment you gave me was made from nixes?” Jungkook wonders, thinking of the two jars that are still sitting on the vanity dresser in his bedroom. He gnaws on his lower lip at the stony look Taehyung shoots his way. “Sorry.”

“It is. The crimson nix is great for everything related to the skin and body in general. It can be good to speed up the healing process. It also helps with scarring, and before you ask, yes, the crimson nix is in the second ointment I lent to you,” Taehyung says when Jungkook opens his mouth. Jungkook sheepishly smiles. “The crimson one is a perfect example in terms of how convoluted implementing a nix in a concoction can be.”

Taehyung’s voice that had been clipped and raspy lightens up. There's something akin to a buzz in it, a childlike excitement shining in his eyes as he gently touches the petals. His words are slurred every so often, and it's as though his tongue does not shape quite fast enough for all he wants to say.

Jungkook’s restlessness of the past couple weeks alleviates, soothed by how Taehyung’s own mistrust and detachment is seemingly put aside for now, the two wrapped in this tentative bubble of shared interest.

“To make a simple calming ointment for aching, I’d say that the complexity is at two out of ten. However if you want to use this nix to… Hmm… Accelerate the healing properties of a potion for broken bones, the difficulty flies up to six or seven out of ten.”

“Ooh."

Jungkook is fascinated by the newly obtained knowledge, however it pales in comparison to the dichotomy Taehyung paints: he's an impetuous dragonborn, one who does not shy away from spewing threats at any met human; yet he is also a man who happily rambles about a flower, holding the latter ever so softly, full of care for the fragile petals. 

Jungkook allows his eyes to trace the curves of Taehyung’s profile. When he catches the barely perceptible upward lilt of Taehyung’s lips as he relates the nixes to a type of flower Dahee likes, Jungkook’s own lips curve in a smile that he buries in the crook of his elbow.

“What about the golden one?”

“It’s an enhancer, which doesn’t sound like much at first glance, but it’s one of the most potent enhancers that exists,” Taehyung answers. “Let’s say you mix it with an antiseptic, the lotion can then immediately fight off an infection and create a disinfecting film on the wound. The golden nix makes everything better, stronger and more impactful, including arcanic properties. But it’s also the hardest and most dangerous one to use.”

“How come?”

“If you improperly work with it, it can turn into a corrosive substance, which can be fatal. It’s a bit of a double edged sword."

“I see, I see. And what about this one? I’ve never seen a flower that has such a deep black. It’s not even reflecting the light. I think it’s my favorite one of the lot.”

Taehyung glances at Jungkook. 

Their gazes connect for a lull before he peers back at the plant. 

His fingers coil around the black nix. Tendrils as dark as the petals crawl up Taehyung’s fingers from the point of contact. They move up his hand and wrist, disappearing where the sleeve of the pullover begins. 

They appear to follow lines.

Taehyung’s veins.

They crawl up to the collarbones, then neck and cheeks. The glow of the nixes paint Taehyung’s face in faint patches of muted colors, and Jungkook can’t look away.

He had found Taehyung impossibly beautiful when he had first seen him. Even if Taehyung’s features are more often than not knitted into a scowl, the man remains incredibly gorgeous, even more when he smiles and laughs with his family.

“The raven nix is specific to dragonborns,” Taehyung says, startling Jungkook out of his reverie. “It supposedly feeds on our arcane, or tries to, at least.”

“What can it do with it?”

“No one knows.”

“What?”

“No one has figured out what it does. All we’ve gathered is that when it touches a dragonborn’s skin, tendrils expand to feed on the arcane they extract from us. It doesn’t deplete it, and it doesn’t devour it either. The sensation is weird, honestly. It simply… drinks. As though the flower is parched. Look.”

Taehyung leans closer to Jungkook and tilts the plant to show the way the tendrils dissipate into dust when Taehyung retracts his hand from the raven nix.

“Oh my God…”

“This one is a mystery no one has solved. As for the others, I’ve exhausted my quota of speech for the day.” Taehyung rises up

Jungkook mirrors him. “Have you studied botany?”

“You can keep it." Taehyung hands the stem to Jungkook.

Jungkook gently takes the present, cradling it between his hands. “Thank you.” He deeply inhales the golden nix Taehyung had scented earlier. A hint of honey permeates the air. “Is it one I can dry?”

“Technically, yes, but it’ll die and lose its colors in spring, whether you dry it beforehand or not,” Taehyung says and he swivels on his feet to continue their walk.

“So every nix is sensitive to warmth.”

“Yeah, but it only lives through winter regardless of the temperature.”

“I’ll still keep it when it’ll wither.”

“Why would you? You won’t be able to use it for anything.”

“Existence or worth does not stop after dying. Sometimes it can be the opposite, where something else can be offered after death.”

“The hell does that mean?”

Ah. There it is, the everlasting scowl Jungkook has missed. He’d take this over indifference.

“What I just said.” Jungkook points at the blue Nix. “What’s this one?”

“Speech quota. Gone.”

“Prick.”

Jungkook keeps the stem of nixes in his arms throughout the trip. He’s distracted by the colorful flowers and the forest itself, but he pays enough attention to retrace his and Taehyung’s steps.

It's an hour later that Taehyung pauses as they reach a modest clearing of grass, partially obscured by a large weeping willow. He faces Jungkook, arms crossed over his chest.

“Now, it's your turn. Lead us back to the house and here again.”

“Sure.” Jungkook probes at the raven nix. No tendrils tickle his skin.

“You sound overly confident."

Jungkook smiles.

Not only does he easily guide them through the forest, but he does so with such efficiency that they safely arrive in front of their house 40 minutes later.

Jungkook twirls on his feet, hands clasped around the nixes behind his back. His face breaks into a grin as he sways on the ball of his feet. “I told you I could. It wasn't difficult at all,” he boasts without an ounce of shame. 

Taehyung’s puzzlement morphs into this stony veil of mistrust, and Jungkook’s smile wavers at the sight.

“It should be difficult. There is no shot you managed to remember the way back. Even your nightly outings wouldn't help with that.”

“I did say my confidence is rightful.”

“You're cheating,” Taehyung blurts out. It must sound petty to his own ears because they tinge with a hint of pink.

Technically, Jungkook could have gotten a little external help from Revna, but he had chosen not to. “How would I cheat?”

“That basilisk of yours helped you.”

“No. She didn’t. So asking again, how could I cheat?”

“I don't know, you tell me. You're the one who cheated.”

“I didn't.” 

“Yes you did.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, I did not!”

“Yes you fucking did.”

“I'm telling you I didn't!”

The fight feels — is — childish, but as inane as it may be, the trepidation still brimming underneath the surface further abates within Jungkook. It's as though his and Taehyung’s relationship is back to what it had been before The Event that had sundered the mood into a valley of mutual suspicion.

“If so, explain to me how you got us back there so quickly and without getting us lost once. I've never heard of a human being capable of this."

Jungkook raises his fingers one by one as he numerates the points of argument. “One: I'm smart. Two: I have an unparalleled sense of orientation. Three: I used to spend a lot of time in the forest surrounding the citadel, so making my way through one is nothing new for me.”

“You can guide us back to the clearing, if so,” Taehyung dares.

“Probably, yes,” Jungkook muses, his aplomb waning a bit.

Taehyung steps to the side and nods toward the forest. “Lead the way.”

After leaving the nixes at the house’s front door rather than inside the warm interior, Jungkook skips by Taehyung, humming a lullaby under his breath.

This time, Taehyung is the one to trudge after Jungkook.

Jungkook doesn’t let it agitate him. It’s pointless to worry about any literal backstabbing or worse. If Taehyung wants to kill Jungkook, realistically speaking, there isn’t much that Jungkook can do. At least nothing that Taehyung is aware of. 

They soon arrive in the lush center of the forest.

Jungkook’s thoughts meander, far to be inattentive of his direct surroundings, but close to not losing track of the path he’s supposed to follow.

So Jungkook startles when a hand that he knows belongs to Taehyung seizes his elbow and harshly pulls. Jungkook can’t even think about struggling against the grip before he’s slammed against a tree.

A palm smacks against Jungkook’s mouth. 

He blinks, disoriented. 

Taehyung’s face is out of his vision, tilted to the side and too close to Jungkook’s. Alarm bells flare in Jungkook. His instincts finally kick in, quite literally so when his knee digs into Taehyung’s stomach.

Taehyung winces. His free hand shoots down to grab Jungkook’s knee and, in a series of deft movements, Taehyung throws Jungkook off balance, tripping him on the ground. The two of them tumble down.

“You better—”

Jungkook isn’t given the chance to finish as his legs are trapped under Taehyung’s. His hands are free, however, and he withdraws an arm as much as he can to swing his fist at Taehyung’s face. He misses. Taehyung catches both of Jungkook's wrists with one hand to bind them above Jungkook’s head. Taehyung’s other hand shushes Jungkook’s swelling protests.

“Stop fighting, you fucking—”

Revna is about to lurch out of the ruby when Jungkook’s teeth sink into Taehyung’s fingers. Blood suffuses his mouth and he uses the distraction to smash his forehead on Taehyung’s nose. Taehyung’s head jerks back with a grunt as he topples backward.

Jungkook channels the momentum to the dragonborn away from above him. He clambers on his knees and is about to spring up when nails bore into his ankle. He’s yanked on his front and dragged across the soil.

“Let me g—” Jungkook yelps when he’s tugged by the collar of his coat and flung on the same trunk as before. He’s panting, hands scrambling on Taehyung’s chest to wrestle himself free but Taehyung kneels on Jungkook’s thighs and wrenches his fingers around Jungkook’s jaw to pin his head against the tree.

Taehyung’s mouth parts open.

Voices erupt behind Jungkook, muffled and far away.

Jungkook freezes on his spot, his revolt dying on his tongue. His and Taehyung’s gaze lock together.

“I was hiding us, you fucking idiot,” Taehyung lowly hisses, blood trickling down from his nose.

Jungkook gawks. His fingers relax around Taehyung’s pullover, then they clench again to shake the imbecile of a dragonborn. “Tell me next time, you cretin ?!” He whisper-yells. “How was I supposed to know when you slam. Me. Against. Something. Again.” Jungkook punctuates each word with a punch on Taehyung’s pecs that seem to be sturdier than Jungkook had thought when he’d see them hidden behind loose shirts.

Taehyung brushes his sleeve against his nose. “Shut up.”

Taehyung is still holding onto Jungkook’s jaw, the hold slackened, his gaze unfocused and aimed to the ground.

It’s stupid, really, but Taehyung really is pretty.

And slightly intimidating. 

His face is a couple inches away from Jungkook’s, which shouldn’t fluster Jungkook as much as it currently does, but a heat creeps up his neck and fills his cheeks the longer he stares at the mole under Taehyung’s right lower lid. Taehyung is so close that Jungkook can smell him: this waft of fire and pungent petrichor.

“Can you let me go?” Jungkook whispers.

Taehyung reclines then complies, the warmth of his fingers leaving Jungkook’s chin. He makes a shushing motion at Jungkook who nods.

“I’ll need you to go back to the house," Taehyung demands and moves off Jungkook. "Right now.”

“No.” Jungkook punctuates this by spitting on the ground, however not to be vulgar, but rather to get rid of Taehyung’s blood coating his tongue.

“I’m not asking.”

“And I’m not going back. I want to know what this is about and why we’re sneaking into the forest that is supposed to be yours."

Taehyung’s eyes dart between Jungkook and a point behind him. “This isn’t related to you.”

“How would you know? What if it’s Seungwon? Perhaps the stunt we pulled on him got to him more than we first assumed."

Taehyung seems to ponder on this for exactly six seconds. “I don’t care. I’ll go check myself while you go back to the house. You’ll be a hindrance if you stay.”

“I said no.”

“This isn’t a debate. You—”

Attention diverted by their arguing, Jungkook hasn’t heard the group venturing back to them until it is nearly too late. Neither has Taehyung whose frustration washes across his face.

Jungkook stills when Taehyung’s hands cup his waist, bringing their chests close as he curls an arm around Jungkook’s back. Then, he unceremoniously throws Jungkook on his left shoulder in one swift motion.

Jungkook grasps onto the back of Taehyung’s cloak. “Wha—”

“They’re coming this way. Shut up.”

Taehyung’s legs bend to propel himself. He leaps to grab the first branch of the tree. Jungkook’s belly swoops at every lurch Taehyung makes to climb the branches and carry them higher up the tree trunk. 

If Jungkook is completely honest with himself, the swirls in his chest aren’t solely due to his slight acrophobia. He’s not really musing about how far the ground is from them. His mind is far too engaged in evaluating how strong Taehyung truly is as the dragonborn effortlessly lifts both of them from branch to branch.

Taehyung stills eventually, once settled on a branch thick enough to support them while offering them a safe vantage point, concealed by the dense leaves.

Jungkook precariously rests his feet on the branch, aided by the hands encasing his hips. The grasp is oddly gentle as Taehyung helps Jungkook crouch next to him to avoid any unfortunate fall. 

Jungkook doesn’t look down, or anywhere that isn’t Taehyung or the tree. He can handle his fear of height during a flight with Taehyung where he’s distracted by the scenery and clouds, but it’s different here for some reasons, in spite of how less deadly a fall would be.

Securing himself with a hand gripping Taehyung’s coat and the other Taehyung’s knee, Jungkook internally sighs in relief at the solid anchor Taehyung’s body creates. One of Taehyung’s arms is still curled around Jungkook’s back, an additional support that the dragonborn seemingly doesn’t notice.

The voices become clearer and louder, and Jungkook recognizes one of them.

Chapter Text

A shudder of ire racks through Jungkook. The ruby tucked against his chest heats up with a venom that coalesces with his aversion. Jungkook’s nails would bore into his palms if it hadn't been for Taehyung’s cloak.

He exhales, his breath shaky and fingers constricted.

Jungkook and Taehyung’s gazes meet. The indifference in Taehyung oscillates, his searching eyes seeming confused.

Seungwon’s intelligence isn’t the sharpest one, and while he shouldn’t harm Jungkook here lest he instigates a war, Jungkook wouldn’t put it past the man to give it a go nonetheless.

“We’re against the wind. They won’t smell or see us from down there,” Taehyung whispers, who must have picked up on Jungkook's discomfort. “He won’t do anything to you."

"What if he still tries?"

“Then I’ll handle him.”

Taehyung sounds confident, but Jungkook can’t help but be doubtful. Would Taehyung really prevail against a group of dragonborns that includes Seungwon, who is supposedly well-versed in combat? 

If Jungkook is forced to confront Seungwon, he refuses to go down without a fight, and Revna echoes the sentiment with a hiss when she leaves the necklace to hide underneath his winter coat, half curled around Jungkook's neck.

“They’re about to pass under us. Don’t move or make a noise,” Taehyung warns. 

Jungkook responds with a quiet noise of agreement. With what little time left he has before the group arrives, Jungkook shuffles closer to Taehyung, telling himself that it’s to seek warmth and not comfort. Taehyung does not grumble at the proximity, and neither does he pull away. Instead, and to Jungkook's surprise, Taehyung tightens his hold around Jungkook’s waist.

Jungkook reminds himself of the scent of death permeating Taehyung’s parents’ basement; that someone has died there or that a body had once been left in that place; but it doesn’t dampen this perhaps idiotic sense of safety that rises within him. But then again, if Taehyung’s intentions are cruel, why hasn’t he thrown Jungkook to Seungwon now that he has the chance?

What if Taehyung does, actually?

Jungkook isn’t given the chance to move away from the dragonborn before a disgruntled voice freezes him on his spot.

“The forest reeks of him,” Seungwon mutters.

“Well, it is his territory,” a woman answers.

“What are we doing here?” A man says. Woobin.

Jungkook glances down in spite of his better judgment.

Seungwon comes to a halt a few feet away from the tree Jungkook and Taehyung are perched on. His head, covered by the hood of a cloak, twists to peer at his son.

“I told you to wait and be quiet, didn't I?” Seungwon warns, the hint of the threat as subtle as a roaring griffin.

Woobin’s head lowers. The cockiness from a few weeks ago withdraws into submission. “Sorry.”

“I believe Taehyung and Jungkook left the house earlier,” a fourth person pipes up. The man retrieves an object that looks like a miniature sundial with minuscule writing on it. “I’m not sure where to. It’s dwindling and giving a location too broad to be useful.”

“Makes me wonder why I even hired you. Remind me to take back half of my payment,” Seungwon spits and plucks out a piece of paper that he unrolls. “We’re close to it. Two more hours of walking.”

“Is the Kim family truly not aware of the presence of this…” The woman makes a vague gesture.

“Answer that one for me, Hansol,” Seungwon urges.

“I can assure you my abilities are up to par with your requests,” Hansol says, the smile audible in the timber’s levity. “The veil is undetectable. No one has seen the pit, aside from me, of course.”

Taehyung is frowning, his fingers drumming on Jungkook’s waist. Jungkook pinches Taehyung’s knee to get his attention, then he mouths ‘The pit?’ Taehyung shrugs.

“Jaehee, how much until it’s gone?” Seungwon wonders with a jut of his chin toward the sundial.

“A few days at best, but I and the warlock can recast it if you or someone else is near Jungkook."

Seungwon chuckles, the same kind that would precede an unwanted hand on Jungkook’s thigh or nape once upon a time. “This whore won’t get away from me no matter how much he believes he can.”

Bile rises at the back of Jungkook’s throat, Revna’s wrath a catalyst to his own. The grip stiffens on Jungkook's waist. Taehyung looks pissed after Seungwon's expletive, and his anger is comforting, somehow. 

“What about Taehyung?”

“What about Taehyung?” Seungwon snatches Woobin’s strands of hair to push his son’s head down. “What about what I said, hm? I told to fucking shut up. Want to visit the room again, huh? Should I take you there to teach you how to be quiet? Is your discipline lacking this much since your last lesson?”

“I’m sorry, Father, it’s just— Taehyung seemed protective of Jungkook."

“Anyone would want to stake a claim over a doll like Jungkook, even Taehyung.” Seungwon throws Woobin to the side who stumbles but catches himself in time. “This vermin does not care about my doll. No one does, aside from me. I'm sure Taehyung would lend him back to me if I were to ask.”

A metallic taste suffuses Jungkook’s mouth when he bites down on the inside of his cheek to refrain himself from blurting out a retort that would blow out his and Taehyung’s cover.

“Why don’t you, then?” Hansol's voice is suave, impossible to define the gender of, their face covered by their coat’s hood along with a mask shielding the lower part. “Are you perhaps frightened by the Kim son?”

A flame licks out of Seungwon mouth as he speaks, words roughened. “Careful how you address me, warlock.”

Hansol folds an arm over their chest and bows. “Apologies, my lord.”

“Keep an eye out for Taehyung. Let’s get moving. Don’t speak unless I’ve prompted you to. I’ve had enough of hearing you blabbering your mouths for the rest of the day.”

Seungwon and his group resume their walk.

The warlock is at the back, their steps measured as they tilt their head this and that way, as if appreciating the beauty of the forest.

Their head suddenly snaps up. 

Perhaps they weren’t admiring as much as they were searching.

Their gaze fixates on Taehyung and Jungkook. Taehyung’s body tenses in Jungkook’s hands. Jungkook watches with bated breath, wondering if he should prepare to fight and ask Revna for help, however to his surprise, Hansol winks and trudges after the group.

The warlock does not speak a word, even after them and the rest of the group disappear through the vegetation.

Jungkook and Taehyung wait.

Taehyung is the first one to break the stillness. He drops down, deftly catching himself on his feet and hands. He makes a motion to trail after Seungwon. 

“Taehyung,” Jungkook calls out. Taehyung pauses and glances up at him. “Help me down,” he mumbles, holding onto the tree trunk like a lifeline.

Taehyung looks unimpressed. “You can jump.”

“So, it may baffle you, but I’m kind of scared of heights." Jungkook isn't about to faint or anything this drastic, but his vision does grow a little dizzy at the idea of jumping from so high.

“You flew with me twice."

“Yes, because I had no choice, and it was nice, plus I—” Jungkook pauses. Taehyung quirks a brow. “Nothing."

“You what?” 

Jungkook mulls for a second over how absurd his response will sound in the current atmosphere between them. “When you flew me, I knew you’d catch me if I were to fall, and you did that one time with Woobin.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow, his brow knitting. “You trust me too much.”

Jungkook draws a contrite smile. “Maybe."

Taehyung clicks his tongue. His gaze darts between Jungkook and where Seungwon has left. “Can you be quiet?”

Jungkook bobs his head in confirmation. “As I said, I used to often be in the forest. I’ve learned how to hide to not be found by my handlers.”

“You sure were easy to fo—” Taehyung falls quiet.

Jungkook snorts. “I know you've trailed after me during my nightly outings, Taehyung. Have you considered that I was easy to follow because I wanted it to be?" Taehyung, although stealthy, couldn’t bypass Revna’s alertness. Jungkook hadn’t been bothered by the shadowing, quite the opposite, really, as Taehyung’s presence had been an additional blanket of safety. “Can you help me down? Please?”

Taehyung heaves a deep sigh as he walks back to the tree. He extends his arms above his head and toward Jungkook.

“It’s kinda high though,” Jungkook mumbles, cautiously eyeing the ground. 

“If you don’t jump, I’m leaving you here. I’m sure the local bears will love to know what humans taste like.”

Jungkook scowls at Taehyung.

But what if he lands badly and splits his head open on the sharp rock peeking out of the ground? That would be a terrible way to go, and certainly not befitting of Amaris’ future king.

“I’ll catch you,” Taehyung — Softly? Exasperatedly? — says. “Just jump.”

They lock eyes.

Jungkook drifts off the tree branch.

Taehyung catches him by the waist before the latter’s shoes can even hit the ground.

Jungkook eases the rapid pulsations of his heart by sliding his palms down Taehyung’s sturdy forearms, feeling the cotton of the soft pullover. “That wasn’t too bad,” he chuckles, tucking his embarrassment behind a grin.

“You don’t say,” Taehyung derides and wrenches his arms from Jungkook’s grasp. “Damn wuss.” 

Jungkook smacks Taehyung’s arm. 

“Come on. I don’t want to lose track of them.”

“The warlock saw us."

The two of them begin to stalk after the group.

Taehyung hums. “I don’t like this.”

“They didn’t say anything to Seungwon, though. I’m not saying we can trust them but…” 

“They haven’t told him yet. This is the problem.”

“It could be a trap. Maybe they pretended to not see us. Is it prudent to follow them?” 

“No, it isn't, but I still will because I need to know why the other asshole is sneaking around in Vanae. He’s acting more suspicious than you, and that’s saying something.”

“The difference between him and I, is that his motives definitely have an ill-intent, while mine don’t.”

“So you’ve said.”

As the minutes elapse, Taehyung won’t stop glancing at Jungkook.

Jungkook isn’t the kind of man to brag about anything — for the most part —, but he can’t suppress the prideful smile that paints his lips when he can catch onto how impressed Taehyung is by Jungkook's stealthiness. 

“Do you have any idea of where we’re going?” Jungkook questions at some point.

Seungwon and his group are far ahead of them, quiet, moving figures in the forest.

“Aside from south-east of Vanae, no.”

“Is it in the same direction that we saw them fly one night?” Jungkook asks and Taehyung nods. “It’s strange… Why would they go there?”

“I don’t think it has anything to do with you. Unless you’re hiding more secrets."

Jungkook is withholding many secrets, but he can’t sensibly answer that to the distrustful dragonborn. “None related to Seungwon or dragonborns.”

An hour and a half passes that Jungkook spends walking by Taehyung’s side.

At first, Jungkook keeps his distance from Taehyung due to their recent terseness, but Taehyung is so warm. Jungkook can’t help but stay close to Taehyung to bask in the heat the dragonborn emanates. Taehyung contests with a glare and by stepping away from Jungkook. However Jungkook continues to naturally gyrate toward Taehyung. Thankfully, Jungkook’s stubbornness is the one to triumph — as it tends to.

The two of them stop when Seungwon’s group does.

“We’ll wait until they leave, then I’ll get close to see what it’s about,” Taehyung says, his shoulder brushing against Jungkook's. “It’s too risky to move now.”

“But remember what that Hansol warlock said about a veil? What if what they’re here to see is gone when they are?”

Taehyung curses. “We’ll go against the wind. Be. Quiet. I swear to the Elders, if you blow our cover, I’ll bury you ten feet under.”

“Yes sir,” Jungkook says with solemnity. “Shall we?”

The duo inches near the group. Taehyung guides them to have the wind at the front while Jungkook trails after him, walking every step Taehyung takes.

They reach a point where they’re close enough to observe but not be seen, shielded by the bushes and various plants.

Taehyung nods at a large tree and points upward. Jungkook can’t make that jump. The lower branch is feet above him. So he blankly stares at Taehyung, hoping that he can convey through his unwavering eyes how it’s ‘way too high’ and ‘but what if I do manage to grab the branch but it breaks under my weight and impales me?’

Taehyung’s responding eye roll is so violent that Jungkook worries Taehyung’s eyeballs may get stuck in their socket. Taehyung swears under his breath, then, and without any warning, he swivels Jungkook around so that the latter faces away from him. Jungkook would usually scorn at being manhandled this way, but said man’s hands are warm where they’re secured around his arms, their clamp not harsh even if authoritative.

A breath cascades down Jungkook’s neck, eliciting a shiver that is too fast for him to repress.

“I’ll fling you up to the tree branch,” Taehyung murmurs in Jungkook's, his palms drifting to cuff Jungkook’s waist. “Grab it.”

“Fling?”

Jungkook turns his head to voice out his affront. He may have miscalculated the reduced distance between their faces because their noses bump against each other. A muted 'Oh' slips past his lips.

Taehyung dramatically recoils with a grimace.

Jungkook snides Taehyung with an impassive stare. “You are so, so, offending."

“I’m flinging you.”

And so Taehyung does.

And so Jungkook is flung high up in the air, thanking his reflexes when he grabs onto the branch and hoists himself on it. Taehyung is next to him a second later.

“Move forward. Need to be closer. Can’t see shit from here.”

“You’re such a prick,” Jungkook lowly hisses but does as asked, curious to see what Seungwon is planning. He stands and walks from branch to branch with unsteady steps. He pauses at a tree opened to a deserted area of dried ground and rocks. He sits down, startling when Taehyung appears on his right. Jungkook looks ahead once more. 

The view has veered to an eerie one. 

“What is that…”

Where the flat, continuous ground had once been, a plateau has taken its place, leading to a cliff. It’s more of a pit, with the bottom surrounded by mountains, but it isn’t what seizes Jungkook’s attention aside from the sudden appearance.

It’s what lays at the bottom of the cliff.

It takes some time for his mind to process the sight. It’s aided by the wafts that float in the air and are thrust toward Jungkook and Taehyung by the wind. The scent is the exact same one that Jungkook has smelled in the basement of Taehyung’s former home: that of a cemetery, and it could not be closer to the truth.

Plethora of bones litter the pit. More specifically, dragon skeletons, with the wing armatures, oversized spines, and skulls adorned with horns. Each bone is reflecting the light in some places and Jungkook understands why when he notes the lines of what seems to be silver drawn on them.

Jungkook’s head turns to survey Taehyung and assess what to do next.

Taehyung’s eyes are wide open, the pupils shaking as they dart across the bottom of the pit. His parted mouth releases a shaky exhale, punctuated by goosebumps dotting his nape where the hair stands on. His face scrunches, something pained and forlorn, lips then pressing into a trembling line. 

Jungkook wants to ask so many questions, but he knows not to. Not now, when Taehyung is faced with a graveyard of his own kind. 

Seungwon’s group has made its descent into the pit. They walk amongst the bones without a care in the world. Seungwon lifts a boot to kick a skull, dislodging it from the soil it had been embedded into.

Taehyung’s body lurches forward but Jungkook’s hand flies to grab his wrist.

“There’s nothing we can do at the moment,” Jungkook lowly says. Vitriol swims in Taehyung's eyes, and Jungkook would feel something akin to fear if he were at the end of it. “It’s too risky to confront them. We should leave, try to find out how— We should plan. Yoongi can help us. I’ll help too.”

Taehyung yanks his arm from Jungkook’s hold. He turns around and jumps down. Jungkook estimates the distance between himself and the ground to climb down on his own, but he does not have to. Taehyung extends his arms and makes an urgent motion inciting Jungkook to leap.

Not a word is exchanged during the walk back, the breeze as glacial as the silence surrounding them. 

Jungkook comforts himself with the fact that this time, he isn't at the core of the churning turmoil. So he gives Taehyung some space, preferring to shiver rather than worsening Taehyung’s upset.

When they reach the house, Jungkook fetches the nixes. He peers at them, grazing the raven one. He turns around to face Taehyung.

“I don’t know what it was, nor why Seungwon is implicated in this… This graveyard of dragonborns, but… I’m here to help, even if you don’t believe me. I hope that with time, you’ll realize that my secrets aren’t threatening to you.”

Taehyung is silent. Unreadable. However he listens and watches Jungkook.

“And I’m sorry. Nothing about what we’ve seen seemed natural and I can’t imagine how—” Jungkook doesn’t finish his thought. "Yeah..."

Taehyung shakes his head, his pinched brows betraying his frustration. “You confuse me so damn much.”

Before Jungkook can answer, Taehyung turns into his dragon counterpart and flies off, vanishing into the sky.

Jungkook sighs as he enters the house. He doubts that Taehyung's family is one made of criminals or worse, but it still does not explain why their basement would smell like death, the exact same bitter scent that had been permeating the dragonborn graveyard in the pit. 

There's also still the issue regarding the Kim family's aloofness toward Jungkook.

“I think they might find out about you and I,” Jungkook says to Revna. "I want them to. I may be able to help them."

He slumps against the headboard, his mind churning about all that has occurred.

“I doubt I can keep it hidden for much longer, and I don’t want to anyway. I… I want to be myself,” he murmurs to Revna, an ache growing near his heart. “We’ll wait a little while, and if Taehyung doesn’t confront me before the wedding, I will. He’ll know about our secret then, and so will we about his own, hopefully.”

Revna emits a noise of displeasure.

“If the conversation doesn’t go well, I’ll need you to bite him but not to a deadly point. Just enough to paralyze him with the pain so we can leave. I already prepared satchels with food, water and other necessities. I've buried them in the forest to pick up if we need to run away.”

Revna makes a series of worried noises that Jungkook shushes with a peck on her snout.

“I’ll be the token of trust we’ll give to Taehyung this time, okay? And then we’ll wait for him to give us his own. If he does not, we’ll leave.”

Jungkook has been out in the garden tonight again, and when he comes back from his stroll, his scent has a sour tinge to it. Fear. He looks aghast, so much so that he vehemently startles when Taehyung speaks.

“Is Seungwon out there?”

Jungkook’s head snaps toward Taehyung. “No. I was just— Thought I saw something.”

Taehyung is done, quite frankly.

He’s done with being in this stupid house. He’s done with going through this clusterfuck of a wedding and living with someone that he questions every single move and word of every damn minute that passes.

The plate Taehyung is holding clatters in the sink as he tosses it there. “See, I’ve done my research," Taehyung begins and rounds the kitchen island to stride toward Jungkook who does not budge from where he's standing. “And I know the basilisk, your ruby or book or whatever other object you have holds several arcanes. What I don’t understand, however, is why they have indecipherable, ancient arcanes.”

Jungkook steps back, his legs bumping against the coffee table. His tongue darts out to pass over his lower lip. He looks strangely poised and… at ease, regardless of the confrontation, as though he has been waiting for it.

“The wedding is next week.” Taehyung's gaze does not stray from Jungkook’s searching one. “I need my answers before that.”

“Or else?”

“Or I’m calling it off. I won’t wed a human who's hiding ancient arcanes that may be at the core of Elders know what considering your lineage.” Taehyung's fingers strain against the urge to snatch the ruby or the basilisk coiled around Jungkook’s right arm.

“I don’t want to call off the wedding.”

“Neither do I.” This union could be helpful in finding a cure for the plague, after all. “But you’re not leaving me many choices.”

“Because you are?” Jungkook scornfully chuckles. “I think my case is a lot more grievous than yours.”

“How?”

“Your worries about the arcanes you found are based on some neutral information that you are judging as ill-intentioned. Meanwhile, I’m worried that my betrothed and his family may be murderers in hiding."

"What?"

"I could smell death in your parents' basement.”

Taehyung’s nerves flare up. “And how, pray tell, do you know what death smells like?”

“As Amaris’ Prince, I’ve been tasked to visit cemeteries during commemorative days."

“This half truth doesn’t satisfy me.” 

“Ah, really? Would you like to know what does not satisfy me, Taehyung?" Jungkook says with a cant of his head, slowly crossing the distance. "The fact that your family may be keeping quite literal skeletons in their closets. I recognized what I smelled in the basement. I know that scent. Want to hear something else I know? I think there’s a link between your basement and the pit of bones.”

Taehyung does not react, stopping himself just in time from displaying any sort of surprise.

“If you want to talk about secrets, perhaps you should start. Yours appears to be directly related to the death of your people that, no matter what you may believe, I have nothing to do with. I don’t know why those dragonborns died in that pit, and perhaps in your basement too. What I'm certain of, however, is that you must expect some kind of gain from our wedding that you won't obtain if we don't see it through. So…" Jungkook pauses, a foot away from Taehyung. “How about we both talk, properly, since you finally seem inclined to do so.”

Taehyung stares back at Jungkook. He nods once toward the living room, but Jungkook does not move right away, and neither does Taehyung.

“Speak.”

“You should—”

“I’m not playing any games.” The roulette of Taehyung’s arcane rolls and he doesn’t bother restraining it. Lightning flares and coils in-between his fingers, crawling up his right hand. “The only reason why I haven’t started a war yet is because I want to know. So speak, or I’ll find out the countenance of your ruby and basilisk myself even if I have to tear them from your corpse.”

Jungkook is impassive, his shoulders relaxed. The basilisk is strangely quiet too in spite of the threat. “Will you tell me more about your own secret?”

Taehyung can’t possibly share anything about the plague with Jungkook, but he can throw a couple half truths here and there.

“It’ll depend on what yours turns out to be."

Jungkook huffs a puff of air and fetches an oil lamp that he lightens. "We need to go outside and walk somewhere, so that I can show you.”

“Show me what?”

“My secret. I could tell you now, but you wouldn't believe me unless you see it with your own eyes.”

Taehyung slides on his cloak as Jungkook does with his own, the two of them soon stepping out of the house. “This better not be some kind of game, Jungkook.”

“Ehh, I think it’s one of the very few times you’ve addressed me by my first name."

When Taehyung passes by Jungkook, he halts next to him to lean closer and say “Let’s hope it’s not the last, yeah?”

“Implying you’ll kill me?” Jungkook says with a teasing lilt.

“Not just implying.”

“It’s true that subtlety isn’t your forte.”

Taehyung can’t formulate a retort. He's too tense to fall back into their usual bickering.

Jungkook leads them to the outskirts of the forest as the basilisk reverts inside the ruby, and the three of them trek deeper through the woods. 

Taehyung is vigilant, mindful of every sound his ears catch, of every scent that reaches his nose. Jungkook could be leading him into a trap. He settles the roulette of his arcane on two aspects, ready to storm out at a twitch of his finger.

Taehyung breaks through the stillness a couple minutes later. 

“How far are we supposed to go?”

“A forty minute walk?"

“Huh?”

“It’s kinda far. Although it’ll be faster if you fly us there.”

“And where the hell is ‘there’?”

“Will you fly us?”

“We can stop here and finish the rest of the route on foot,” Jungkook announces twenty minutes later, sitting on Taehyung’s talon. “It’s close by.”

Taehyung dives down. He lands on the ground and allows Jungkook to climb off his palm afterwards. “What is ‘it’?” He asks after shifting back to his human self, his question received with a half smile.

“You’ll see.”

The forest here is familiar. The area is one that Taehyung has explored quite often in his childhood. 

Surprisingly enough, Jungkook also seems to know his way around. The oil lamp he's holding barely helps in fighting off the darkness, yet Jungkook still trudges with a certain confidence, avoiding a fallen trunk and finding paths amidst the trees.

Taehyung changes his arcane to summon his fire that wraps one of his hands to illuminate their walk a tad more brightly. His palms clam up, his chest tight with nervousness. Even his fire doesn’t abate the shudders that run down his spine nor the cold that seems to cling onto his bones.

The more their trip extends, the more his wariness grows.

“How far?”

“We’re there, actually.”

They arrive on the top of a cliff, the place covered in grass that shines with the ambient humidity and the moonlight cascading on them. 

Taehyung glances around, and he freezes when he realizes what is in front of him.

The tombstone is beautiful, with a dragon above it sculpted in a stone.

Taehyung averts his gaze from it.

“You better tell me why we’re in front of this grave,” Taehyung rasps, not bothering to repress the edge clipping his voice.

Jungkook turns to face Taehyung. His lips press together. His folded hands drift behind his back. The motion isn’t fast enough for Taehyung to not notice the trembles in Jungkook’s fingers, nor the way the knuckles turn white as they entangle.

Jungkook exhales. 

His gaze is sharp when it fixes on Taehyung’s. 

“What do you think my secret is?”

“The ruby or basilisk has ancient arcanes, or another object of yours does. Maybe your book. I have no fucking clue on how you got your hands on something like that in the first place, but I’m assuming you have to thank your parents that are known to plunder.”

Jungkook nods. His throat clicks when he swallows. “I’m giving you a token of trust with this, Taehyung."

“Sure.”

“I mean it.” Jungkook’s timber is as cold as steel, but it’s dampened by the coarseness in his words, and how his voice quietens the more he speaks. “Only Yoongi and Namjoon know about this. Aside from Revna, this is the most important aspect of my life I'm about to share with you."

If Jungkook isn’t lying, Seohyung and Sungmin may not be privy to the countenance of Jungkook's secret. It's reassuring, for some reasons.

So Taehyung nods.

“You’re right. Partially,” Jungkook carries on. His hands fiddle with the buttons of his fluffy winter coat, unfastening them one by one. He shuffles off the garment to fold and drape it on the ground. “I know what the ancient arcanes you speak of are, and—” He blows a puff of air as he looks up at the night sky. He cards a hand through his locks, his head lolling down, then he cups the side of his throat to brush his thumbs up and down.

Taehyung can't remember a time where he has seen the Prince’s impeccable composure crumble so openly.

“Revna can control one of them.”

“Which one?”

“Transmutation.”

Taehyung wants to bark out a childish ‘I fucking knew it! because he did, however he opts to remain guarded and says “She can only control one ancient arcane?”

“As far as I know, yes. What do you— What did you find out, exactly, and how?”

“I’m fairly certain you recognized your friend’s arcanic book, didn’t you?” Taehyung says and Jungkook nods.

"But I didn't get to ask Yoongi about it. He wasn't at the citadel when I visited."

 “Doesn't matter. This is the how, the rest is semantics. As for what I found out…” He trails off and slides a hand under his cloak to rummage through the inside pocket. He brandishes a note between two fingers. “This will answer your question. I’m not walking a single step forward,” he adds when Jungkook does not move.

Jungkook rolls his eyes but crosses the distance nonetheless, rubbing his palms up and down his arms. His red pullover must do little against the biting cold. 

Taehyung waits until Jungkook is a foot or two away to extend the paper. Jungkook takes it and Taehyung is careful to not let their fingers touch.

Just in case.

Jungkook unfolds the note and reads the list of information the ring had scanned a while ago. “What are the first seven arcanes? They’re not written there.”

“None related to you."

Jungkook glances up at him, his curiosity evident. “Number eight and eleven are related to Revna, among other things. The thirteenth must be the transmutation arcane. I told you about her venom already, and the dimension manipulation is what allows the ruby to be entered. It probably also includes the inside of the ruby.”

“What about the ink manipulation? How come she can use this like that warlock of yours?”

“It’s… It’s correlated to my secret, and no, I won’t tell you in what way yet. It’s personal and isn’t solely about me.” Jungkook's brows furrow. “Why are there five ancient arcanes?”

Taehyung can’t repress the incredulous laugh that escapes his mouth. “You’re asking me? ”

“Yes, because out of those five ancient arcanes, one is transmutation, one more will be shown to you now. The others are unknown to me. Are they yours?”

Taehyung snatches the paper from Jungkook. “Don’t fucking lie to me. I don’t have any ancient arcane.”

Revna materializes out of the ruby and slides down Jungkook’s leg to loosely curl up on his coat. “Let’s just— It doesn’t matter for now.”

Jungkook swivels around and makes his way toward the tombstone where he pauses next to. He tugs the sleeves of his pullover up to his elbows. Revna raises her head, her eyes born onto Taehyung.

Taehyung knows a guarding dog — or rather basilisk — when he sees one, and he smothers his fire to slot his arcane back on the lightning aspect that he mingles with another one.

“I need you to not freak out, or if you do freak out, don’t attack me nor what you’ll see,” Jungkook starts with a glance at Taehyung.

Taehyung wonders if he has been correct, after all. If Jungkook has another ‘familiar’, however much more lethal than the damn reptile glaring at Taehyung — a stark contrast from how friendly the snake has been with everyone thus far, including Taehyung.

“I promise it’s nothing bad, at least not here, although it can be dangerous depending on… Depending on several different variables, and I guess it can be scary for those unfamiliar with this and—”

“Get on with it,” Taehyung cuts, too jittery for any inane ramble.

“I’m giving a token of trust with this, Taehyung.”

Jungkook had sounded genuine, and it’s with this thought in mind that Taehyung hands a tenth of his own token and watches.

Jungkook turns to face the tombstone. His right hand fiddles with the ruby while his left one hovers in the air and drifts toward the dragon sculpture. His movements are slow, the pulp of his fingers grazing the dragon’s talon with gentleness. They sprawl over the stone, his palm soon fully resting atop the tombstone.

A sudden surge of wind bellows through the area. It pushes Taehyung’s hair back and ruffles his clothes. His cloak erratically whirls behind him. 

He has to plant his boots into the ground to steady his stance and not be blown away by the billowing gusts. He raises an arm to shield his face from the leaves, twigs and pieces of dry soil the wind reaps in its path. Taehyung worries for a second that he might be swept off his feet, or that the trees may be uprooted as the trunks groan while their crowns whistle and whine.

Taehyung doesn’t notice it at first, the barely noticeable change amidst the darkness.

The wind tints. The colorless storm darkens and darkens, soon veering into raven curtains. They’re shapeless, aimlessly snapping in haphazard directions around the clearing, as though unable to focus on anything. 

Then, they all converge to one place, or rather person: Jungkook.

The wind that looks more and more like smokey, jet black flames, narrows into thin ribbons. They lace around Jungkook’s arms and neck in an ever moving piece of garment. The area is calm now that the storm has found a new home in Jungkook.

Taehyung lowers his arms. His eyes prickle. He refuses to blink. He does not want to miss anything.

And so Taehyung sees them amidst the black wind: the drawings — tattoos — that cover Jungkook’s forearms and tip of the fingers. The back of Jungkook’s hands appear to each have a sigil on them that Taehyung can’t decipher. The symbols are surrounded by curved, black lines that meet and trail next to each other in intricate yet cohesive patterns. They go as far as up the elbow and probably higher, Taehyung thinks when his eyes dart up.

Another sigil is painted at the front of Jungkook’s throat, this one made of three crossing circles. The center of this sigil is carmine, and there's an equally red line that traces down Jungkook’s throat, becoming darker the lower it is until it disappears underneath the pullover. This three circle sigil soon expands to cover the expanse of Jungkook’s neck. It stops where the jaw begins.

The dark wind unravels from Jungkook’s body to sway around him, like wavering flames held in suspension, awaiting something.

When Jungkook speaks, his voice is hoarser than usual. It resounds between Taehyung’s ears, and it’s strange, the way it feels as though the words are spoken directly inside Taehyung’s brain rather than out loud.

“Respira, anima noctis.”

The wind shoots toward the tombstone.

It touches the stone here and there and everywhere, like probing fingers searching for an entry through a door. It must eventually find it because the wind gathers into an opaque band that enters the tombstone, as though siphoned inside it.

Everything is uncannily quiet around Taehyung. 

Not a single sound or rustle of leaves can be heard.

Jungkook is peering at the grave, and Taehyung had not realized up til now the way Jungkook’s eyes are entirely black, from the pupil to the iris to the sclera.

A shudder creeps down Taehyung’s spine. It flares a tide of goosebumps in its wake. He makes a move to step backward, however he pauses halfway through the motion at the smile that curves Jungkook’s lips, kind yet frightening.

A familiar voice erupts in the quietude.

One Taehyung hasn’t heard in years.

“You’re back!”

A figure materializes out of thin air next to the gravestone.

The kid looks like himself, like how Taehyung had last seen him, but also not. 

The body is ethereal. Translucent. Its color is of a bright blue that casts a light on the tombstone and Jungkook. Taehyung’s brain slowly remarks that he can see the grass and trees through the kid that dashes toward Jungkook.

Taehyung knows the kid. 

Knew him. 

It’s the child that he used to take care of years ago before a tragedy had befallen upon him. The ten years old kid, supposed to be dead, buried beneath the tombstone, is excitedly chatting away while engulfed in Jungkook’s arms.

Tremors run through Taehyung’s limbs. He can't move, let alone utter a single word. His gaze flickers on Jungkook, meeting two pools of unreadable black.

Taehyung mutely watches as Jungkook frees himself from Kija to crouch in front of the kid.

Jungkook is grinning. Kija is too, who does not seem scared or disorientated.

“You said you’d be here last night but you weren’t,” Kija complains through a pout and folds his arms as he used to do whenever he’d unconsciously pick up some of Taehyung’s habits.

Jungkook ruffles Kija’s hair who frantically swings his arms around to dislodge the hand tousling his strands, and it’s odd because Taehyung expects Jungkook’s fingers to go through Kija’s head, yet they don't. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t visit because I was busy.”

“Because of Tae? I love Taetae, but he can be mean.”

“He can be… a devil, that’s for sure.”

Kija sighs. “I miss him.”

Jungkook rests a finger on Kija’s jaw. Taehyung knows because he can see it through Kija’s chin, just like he can see how Jungkook turns Kija’s head in Taehyung’s direction.

Taehyung and Kija’s eyes lock together.

Taehyung’s mouth parts open. Kija’s does too, his eyes widening. The prickling in Taehyung’s eyes stings as tears well up in them.

“Tae!” Kija runs toward Taehyung, his blue, crystalline form racing across the grass.

A lump swells in Taehyung’s throat. He falls on his knees and opens his arms to welcome the boy in the hug. However Taehyung’s hands meet air when he tries to hug Kija, closing in around nothing. “No… No no no. Why—” Taehyung cups Kija’s face. He wants to, but akin to a second ago, his fingers traverse the head.

“Oh, I forgot,” Kija says with a sheepish smile and twists his head to peer at Jungkook who has joined them.

“You should wait next time,” Jungkook chuckles. The raven wind — flames? — swirls out of Jungkook’s hand that he pats Kija’s head with.

“Sorryyy."

“You’re good to go now.” 

Kija's body is less transparent now, harder to see through yet still as arctic blue and radiant.

When Kija throws himself in Taehyung’s embrace, this time Taehyung can feel the small body secured between his arms. The sensation is strange, like holding solid, cold air. “By the Elders,” Taehyung murmurs against Kija’s crown, his throat too clogged up to speak any higher. “Fucking hell.”

Kija snorts, his tiny hands gripping at the back of Taehyung’s cloak as he buries his face in Taehyung’s neck. “You cursed.”

Taehyung releases his hold of the boy to frantically pat Kija’s arms and shoulders, then the cheeks and top of the head. The soft edges of Kija’s form blur, but he can still see Kija, talk to him. “Hey," Taehyung says through trembling lips, but he has to press the back of his hand against his mouth to muffle a sob. "Fuck, I can't—"

“You curse a lot,” Kija scolds with a frown but he grabs one of Taehyung's hands to hold it, and Taehyung's fingers enveloping Kija’s smaller blue ones.

“He’s surprisingly polite right now. I was expecting more swears,” Jungkook chips in.

Kija launches himself into an old tale of how his mother had once grounded Taehyung for cursing too much. It both breaks Taehyung’s hearts and expunges the sliver of doubts left in his mind about how Jungkook could be fabricating what is happening.

Taehyung stares at the boy, then at Jungkook.

He’s torn between happiness and regret, unsure on whether to be confused about what is transpiring, or simply not giving it a care for as long as he can hold Kija in his arms again. 

“Taetae, you look funny,” Kija laughs and pinches Taehyung’s cheeks with his free hand. “Where are your wings?” Kija gasps when Taehyung summons his wings. “Wow… They’ve grown a lot. What about your dragon form? Is it bigger too?”

Taehyung nods with a small smile before withdrawing his wings. He gently squeezes Kija’s hand that is neither warm nor cold, but it provides an anchor Taehyung clings onto.

“How big? This big?” Kija spreads his arms, and when Taehyung shakes his head, Kija exclaims “More?! Say, say, more than Junnie? Junnie is sooo huge. Last time I saw him he was, like, bigger than the forest,” Kija blurts out, his exaggeration prompting a wet chuckle out of Taehyung. “What about your breaths? Do you have more? Can you show me?”

Taehyung opens his mouth to answer; tell and show Kija anything he wants; but nothing comes out of it, long enough for a silence to stretch between them.

“Hey, Kija,” Jungkook starts and crouches by his side, “do you want to look for some nixes while I speak with Taehyung for a bit? I have a few things to explain to him. He’s a little lost right now.”

“Oh! Yes,” Kija exclaims and enthusiastically sways his and Taehyung’s hands. “I remember I saw one yesterday but I was too tired to take it.”

“You can now. I gave you a lot of energy that will last for days,” Jungkook smiles.

When Kija drops Taehyung’s hand, Taehyung immediately swathes the boy in a hug again. He rests a palm at the back of Kija’s head, holding him tighter than before.

“Taetae,” Kija whines against Taehyung’s shoulders. “You’re squeezing me.”

“I am,” Taehyung rasps. “I am. By the Elders, you’re here. I can hug you again,” he says, his voice sounding more like a whine. “You’re not— You’re supposed to be—” 

Taehyung's teeth click shut.

“I know I’m dead, it’s okay,” Kija grins, and it’s a little backward how he’s the one patting Taehyung’s back to comfort him. “It’s pretty fun.”

“Fun?” Taehyung breaks the hug to watch the boy. “How can it be…”

“I scare people in the forest. Some of them scream so loud, it’s funny,” Kija snickers. “I think one peed his pants one day.”

“I don’t understand,” Taehyung murmurs to himself but Jungkook must have heard him because he speaks again.

“Here.” Jungkook hands Kija a large pouch that the boy takes. “You can put the nixes in there.”

“Okay! I’ll be back fast, don’t go, please,” Kija adds through pursed lips while tugging onto Taehyung’s sleeve.

Taehyung nods, mustering a faint curve of his lips. He ruffles Kija’s hair. “I won’t.”

Kija grumbles about how tired he is that everyone is messing up his hair. Then, after pecking Jungkook’s cheek and giving Taehyung another embrace, Kija runs off, his translucent form disappearing within the forest.

Taehyung’s body and soul as a whole feel weak. He fully sits down, drawing his legs up to prop his arms on his knees. The tears he had been holding back are hot on his cold skin now, his breath a mess of aborted exhales he tries to fruitlessly contain. “Why… What— What is going on?”

Jungkook kneels on the ground in front of Taehyung, folding his legs under him. His eyes are unnerving as they dart on Taehyung before jumping away, still entirely black and framed by the long eyelashes that draw faint shadows on the apple of his cheeks. The moonlight cascades down Jungkook's form, casting a pale, snowy veil on his skin that clashes with the raven swirls and lines of his tattoos.

The sight, as eerie and disconcerting as it is, is impossibly riveting.

“This is simple, but also quite complicated,” Jungkook starts and lowers his gaze.

Taehyung yanks on the sleeves of his top to wipe his eyes with the heel of his palms. There’s a dull ache between his eyes, a telltale sign of a migraine rearing its ugly head. He listens to the basilisk slither across the grass who drapes over Jungkook’s thighs. “Is this her doing?”

Jungkook shakes his head. He's still evading Taehyung's eyes.

Taehyung had known the answer to this query, but he had to voice it out before asking his next question. 

“Then…” 

Taehyung watches the sigil on the back of Jungkook’s left hand, and the second one adorning the right hand. 

“You’re not human.”

Jungkook's head lifts to survey Taehyung. With a crooked smile, he says “Depends on what you qualify as human.”

Taehyung nods. He doesn’t know why but he does anyway, at a loss for words. “Explain, please.”

Jungkook inhales and heaves a deep sigh. The sigil of three circles moves when his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. 

“I’m a warlock,” he murmurs, “and a necromancer.”

Chapter Text

“I’m a warlock,” Jungkook murmurs, “and a necromancer.”

Taehyung doesn’t know what revelation he had been waiting for all this time, yet the one Jungkook provides blows at any theory Taehyung may have created.

Taehyung had not even entertained the idea that Jungkook could be anything other than a regular human, and the one time his mind had conjured the idea of Jungkook being more than that, Taehyung had made a fool of himself and ruined Jungkook’s botany book.

“I know this is—” Jungkook pauses as Revna withdraws in the ruby. His and Taehyung’s gazes meet. “I know this is a lot to take in at once, and that you must have a lot of questions to ask, not only due to me being a warlock, but also because of the countenance of my arcane.”

Necromancy had been on the list of five arcanes Taehyung and Jimin had made a few days ago. Taehyung had thought it wise to add it, as they had found no reason to eliminate it. Jimin had agreed. However neither of them had expected for the answer to be right in front of their eyes, written on a meager piece of parchment.

“You don't hold humans near your heart. I assume it is the same for warlocks, but I hope that my arcane being… Being what it is won't become a problem.”

“I haven’t heard about necromancy once in my life aside from in the books I’ve read about the Arcane, but even then it was in passing because of how ancient and supposedly extinct necromancy is,” Taehyung says, the word foreign on his tongue. “It’s gone from everyone’s mind, Jungkook, but you— This is— Necromancy isn’t supposed to exist. It shouldn’t—”

“Because it goes against life itself? Because it’s deeply linked to death that most people are afraid of and do not understand? Or perhaps it’s because necromancy is a vile, inhuman arcane,” Jungkook says; parrots with heavy contempt, really, as he may have been targeted by those same remarks in the past.

It brings forth a question in Taehyung’s mind. “Seohyung and Sungmin know?”

Jungkook refutes with a shake of his head. He shifts on his spot to grab the coat from under him and slide it on his shoulders. He closes the coat tighter around himself as a shiver racks through him. “I need it to remain this way.”

“Can’t imagine they’d react well if they’re aware of this."

“I probably wouldn’t be alive anymore,” Jungkook agrees with a resigned levity. 

Taehyung summons his fire on his hands in a makeshift source of warmth and luminosity.

There’s a weight in Taehyung’s chest, one that has been there for years but had gone quiet as time had gone by, and as memories had faded away. It coalesces with this simmering, familiar guilt. Taehyung has never forgotten its existence, and he has never really healed from it either, but he has learned to not torture himself every day over what had occurred.

However now, confronted with the core of those churning remorse, the ‘What if…’ , ‘I should have…’ and ‘If I hadn’t…’ mangle his mind.

“Is this why you were leaving every night?”

“I was exploring the forest from the beginning. I didn't lie to you. I was also looking for lost souls, but I couldn’t find any until I stumbled on Kija.”

“When did you stumble on him?”

“When we were flying to Vanae’s market. I sensed a soul and saw it running through the forest. I couldn’t tell who it was nor could I start any communication with them since you were surveying me, but when I went outside later that night, I found Kija near your home.” Jungkook’s hands, still painted in those black tattoos, peek from underneath the coat to hover the flames flickering out of Taehyung’s palm. “He’s been roaming a lot around your house, actually. He never walks up to it, but he’s close, more often than not.”

Taehyung’s thoughts can't seem to wrap around the staggering knowledge he has acquired tonight. He has never believed in ghosts as much as their existences have simply never crossed his mind, so all that Jungkook is sharing reads like a crazed, unbelievable fable his mind has conjured. Taehyung expects himself to wake up from a particularly cruel nightmare, but the prickles of pain that flare in his palm when his nails sink into the skin tell him otherwise.

“How does it work?” Taehyung asks after a beat of silence. “You can manipulate death?”

“For starters, what is said in books is, for the most part, entirely wrong, and biased." Jungkook’s dark eyes still never really meet Taehyung’s. “At least in my case, since I’ve never met another necromancer.”

“Because their arcane is not allowed to exist anymore,” Taehyung reiterates and it’s not out of spite, but rather out of this dizzying bewilderment.

“I know, yet here I am.”

Yet here he is.

“I can’t resurrect people, if this is what you meant by manipulating death. I can’t steal the soul of an alive person and eat it to become immortal and then expunge the world either,” Jungkook explains with a little tug at the corner of his mouth. “I can’t do most of the things described in books about necromancy.”

“Then what can you do?”

“I can speak to the dead and help their souls pass. That’s all.”

Pass?

“By ‘pass’, I mean— I’m not sure where they go, if there’s a heaven, a limbo, or a place akin to that. I don’t know if souls simply disappear into nothing or something else, if they’re reincarnated, but, uhm… I can help them find peace and…” Jungkook traces the tattoos adorning his index, trailing up to the sigil at the back of his left hand. “I call it ‘sleep’, because it's kinder than saying that I help them die again. If this is what happens, because, again, I'm not certain. My fire absorbs the souls, and then makes them pass. I can feel their fulfillment when I do so.”

“You can manipulate dead souls.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Is this what those sigils mean?”

“I think so? I've never found any information about these.” Jungkook raises a hand to his throat where the three circles sigil is drawn. “I assume this one is about speech, considering the placement, but other than that, I have no idea about their actual meaning.”

“You should search about it." The ‘we’ is on the tip of Taehyung tongue, too reticent to be spoken yet.

“I know, but I couldn’t at the citadel. Yoongi did try to find some information but it was always in vain.”

“You can research now.” Taehyung glances up. His and Jungkook’s gaze meet for the first time in the past minute. “Are you able to— As in, can you… I have so many questions but I don’t know where to start and Kija is— Why is he here? Why hasn’t he passed?”

“Although some are content to continue existing in our realm, even if unseen by most. However I believe some other souls remain behind because they have unfinished business."

“Unfinished business?”

“Some souls want to retrieve an object, or on the contrary leave something behind for their loved ones. Others want to speak to a family member or a lover for one last time. There are as many reasons as there are souls. For a few of them, it’s more complicated because some souls don’t know why they haven’t passed, which is when I can enter to help them. And for a few more, what they want is very, very, very difficult to achieve. Sometimes impossible, and so they’re trapped here, unable to pass.”

What if Kija’s falls in that last category? 

However Taehyung can’t think of any reason why Kija would feel compelled to stay behind. Perhaps the boy is afraid of being left alone?

“There was once an old king who adamantly refused to pass before his nemesis died,” Jungkook carries on, a smile floating on his lips. “He had told me he had been waiting for two decades to watch his rival die. He then waited for a third decade, however I was around for this last one.”

“Did he pass?”

“Yes.”

“Then his nemesis died.”

“The other king had eventually died from old age, yes. Want to know what the waiting king told me before sleeping?” Jungkook says and Taehyung nods. “I still remember word for word. He had said: ‘In spite of everything, my hatred for him was the only constant in my life. He was. He was the only thing I knew would be there and stay no matter what. Now that he’s gone, I feel empty, and lonely.’ ”

“He sounded…”

“In love?” Jungkook chuckles. “Yeah, I thought the same, and he had fallen in love with the man he hated more than death itself. Denial is a curious thing. It can make you blind to what is obvious to most.”

Taehyung distractedly plucks at strands of grass. “You helped this king pass, then? Is it physical or more of a mental thing?”

“No, he passed on his own, and it depends,” Jungkook shrugs. “Some souls are too weak to pass on their own, and this is when I can use my arcane to give them the energy to move on, so to speak.”

Jungkook sounds unsure of himself, and Taehyung can only imagine that most of what Jungkook has learned regarding his arcane is born from an experience limited to his own. 

“How I understand it, is that souls need a certain amount of energy to pass,” Jungkook says. “They can obtain this energy by solving what is troubling them, or I can give it to them. I’ve always viewed my arcane as flames, and souls as embers that need to be rekindled.”

Jungkook calls forth the same black ribbons that undulate and curl around his arm. Taehyung’s own hand is enveloped in the fire he had summoned, and the dichotomy of Jungkook’s ebony flames to Taehyung’s golden ones is strangely compelling.

“Is this what you’ve done with Kija? I wanted to hug him at first, but it didn’t let me."

“Souls can touch people and their surroundings depending on how long they’ve been here, how much energy they have, if I’m there to help or not. I suppose that an arcanic land plays its part as well. It varies a lot. It's quite complex. And the thing is, some souls are incredibly powerful and can manifest themselves to you or anyone else and touch anything they want on their own. I’ve even seen a few that still had access to their arcane. As for Kija, his soul isn’t strong enough to be able to touch without a boost from my flames.”

“Why is he—” Taehyung hunches forward, elbows propped on his legs to press the heel of his palms against his stinging eyes. “Why hasn’t he passed? He should be peaceful, not— Not lost in the forest, and lonely. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“He doesn’t know why he’s still here, neither do I. I've been trying to figure it out, but it's complicated.”

“Something is holding him back either way.”

“I believe so, yes.”

The guilt is mind-numbing and suffocating.

If Taehyung had been more attentive that one day—

“Kija hasn’t told me what happened to him, and I never ask,” Jungkook starts, “but he loves you a lot. He doesn’t speak much about people he knew, partially because he doesn’t recall a lot, but the rare times he mentions someone of his past, it’s you. Every few memories he shared with me always involved you.”

“Is it bad for a soul to stay behind?” Taehyung chooses to say. He doesn’t want to mull over Jungkook’s admission, not now or ever when, if someone does not deserve to be remembered by Kija, it’s Taehyung.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry. I keep saying this but there truly isn’t much that I’m certain of,” Jungkook mumbles, rubbing his palms up and down his thighs, the flames gone. “It depends, I suppose. I don’t think a soul staying has any consequence on them considering that they’ve died already, but it could become precarious in regard to the soul’s personality. Just like living people, some souls have ill-intent and wish to harm.”

“Then what happens if Kija doesn’t leave? Has he— Does he relive his death? Does he feel pain or cold or hunger?”

“Souls can’t feel hunger or thirst.”

The omissions aren't lost on Taehyung.

“So Kija—" Taehyung tastes blood when he gnaws on the inside of his cheek. "Kija could suffer. Again. He could already be right no—”

“He’s not."

“And how the fuck would you know?”

“Because I asked him.”

Taehyung studies Jungkook, looking for any sign of a lie.

“He’s not in pain. When he's not excited to be talking to someone, he's tired. He’s already dead, Taehyung. Not much worse than that can happen.”

That you know of, Taehyung does not say out loud. However Jungkook's words, albeit blunt, help abate the gnawing in Taehyung’s chest.

“As I said, all the knowledge I have about necromancy stems from me and my own arcane, so I could be wrong about many things, but… Yeah.”

“This is fucking insane. Do you realize how insane everything you’ve told me is? You’re a necromancer."

“I’m impressed you’re not freaking out more.”

“You and I both. I’m just—” Upset. “Kija should pass. He should have his peace.”

“He should, but we can't force him to do so. Although, now that you know he’s here, you could help me figure out what it is that may be delaying his passing.”

Taehyung emits a pained laugh. “There’s nothing I could do to help him. Not me. I’d only make things worse than—”

“I found them!”

Kija’s translucent form dashes through the trees and toward Jungkook. He’s sporting a bright grin, the first couple of nixes' bells peeking out from the pouch Jungkook had given to the boy. Jungkook turns to peer at Kija and he ‘Ooh’ s when the latter plops down next to him.

“I got three stems,” Kija exclaims. “Nixes are so cool. Did you know the black ones are for dragonborns?” 

“I do, Taehyung told me,” Jungkook smiles.

“Me too,” Kija snickers, the same one Taehyung has been acquainted with thousands of times in the past, and as it usually would be, the sound is trailed by a cheerful jest. “Taetae’s such a nerd. He knows everything about plants. Me and Jiminie always make fun of him.”

Taehyung can’t reciprocate the playfulness no matter how much he wants to. He can only stare at Kija who must feel the gaze on him because he looks at Taehyung.

Kija’s grin vanishes as he deflates. “Taetae? Are you okay?”

Taehyung does not reply to the query. Instead, he extends his arms and says “Come here, kiddo.”

Kija, who would commonly scowl at being referred to as a kid, wordlessly shuffles to sit sideways on Taehyung’s crossed legs. “Taetae, you look sad.”

“Because I am,” Taehyung admits, unable to lie to the boy.

“Why?”

Taehyung’s throat struggles to work around the lump clogging it. His words are hoarse when spoken, more of a whispered plea.

"I'm sorry."

Taehyung does not get to say more, to try and explain that if he could change anything about the past no matter the cost, he would do so without an ounce of doubt.

Kija’s body suddenly freezes. 

Then, he becomes limp in Taehyung's arm, his head lolled forward.

With an arm around the boy’s back to support him, Taehyung scrambles to lift Kija’s head. He tilts the boy’s head back and behind the closed lids, he can see how the eyes wildly dart around. 

Jungkook crosses the foot separating him from Taehyung and Kija. He places a palm on Kija’s crown. He doesn’t look concerned by the abrupt unconsciousness.

“What’s— What’s happening? What the fuck have you—”

“He’s remembering. He’s trying to,” Jungkook murmurs, brushing the haphazard strands of hair from Kija’s forehead. “He couldn’t before.”

Taehyung is the one to still this time. He shakes his head and cradles Kija’s against his chest. “Don’t. Don’t let him remember. He shouldn’t— Just wake him up. You can do that right? Jungkook. Wake him up. Wake him up, please.”

“I think he needs to remember to find his peace, Taehyung."

Taehyung does not plead with humans, however he does once more, uncaring of his pride. “ Please. We can't— Please.”

Jungkook smiles, the motion as gentle as the way he cups Kija’s face. “Hey,” he says, and Taehyung only notices now the way Kija’s eyes flutter open. “You’re back with us.”

“I remember now,” Kija mumbles, a frown etching his face.

And the memories assault Taehyung’s mind.

“But Tae!”

“I said no. You can go out later. You’re supposed to be finishing your homework today while I babysit you.”

“I’m ten. I’m not a baby.”

“Yes you are, you big baby,” Taehyung teases. Kija scowls. “Only babies whine when they’re told to do their homework.”

“Then you’re a baby too ‘cause you hate doing your homework too."

Taehyung deftly ignores the well aimed jab. “Do your homework while I'm cooking lunch."

Kija huffs and rolls his eyes. “You’re boring.”

“I’m not boring,” Taehyung says through pursed lips.

“You’re more boring than homework and homework is reaaally boring.”

Taehyung, with his wings that he always keeps out in his human form, taps the top of Kija’s head. “Go to your bedroom and finish your homework. Then we can go out to…”

…

…

…

Taehyung knocks on the bedroom door.

“Kija? Can I come in?” 

No response arrives. Taehyung rattles his knuckles a second time. 

“Kija?”

It’s too quiet there. The boy has a tendency to run off whenever he’s tasked with a chore, and so Taehyung’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Kija, I’m opening the door, and I swear to the Elders if you—”

Taehyung half expects the bedroom to be empty, and when he sees that it is indeed devoid of the presence of a certain little devil, the window wide open, irritation flares in him. “This kid… Kija! You better get your ass over here! I told you…”

…

…

…

Taehyung has scoured every single place and spot in the forest that Kija runs off to whenever he escapes the house, even at the tree house he and Jimin had built for the boy. The field of nixes, the river, or the lake further south are also empty. 

Kija is nowhere to be found.

The more the minutes elapse, the more the anger is slowly replaced by an ever growing dread.

“Kija! Kija, where are you?!”

...

…

…

“Taehyung, calm down. I don’t unders—”

“I can’t find Kija! I was making his lunch and I told him to do his homework but you know how he is with them and I went to check up on him not even five minutes later because I had a feeling he’d run off and now he’s gone and I don’t know—”

“Son.” Dahee cups Taehyung’s cheeks. “I’m sure he’s fine. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s fallen asleep.”

“Let us look for him,” Junhyun says and Dahee nods. “Go with your mother, Taehyung. I will find Kija’s parents and explain the situation to them.”

“Where have you looked already? We must…”

…

…

…

Taehyung is flying above a ravine, its river dry. His gaze scrutinizes every nook and crannies. 

Soon, an oddity catches his attention.

It’s on the edge of the cliff, wedged between a fissure. The cap is dirtied from soil but not just. A red substance is splattered on the fabric, mirrored on the rocks surrounding it. 

Taehyung’s mind can’t really comprehend what he’s seeing as he hovers in the air.

He glances down.

There’s something at the bottom of the ravine.

…

…

…

Taehyung has never experienced a pain as strong as the one that tears his heart asunder.

The tears silently trickle down his cheeks while Kija’s mother deposits on the grass the lifeless body of her son, the wings broken.

Taehyung’s legs can’t hold him up anymore as he falls to his knees. His fingers curl, digging into the soil, and he watches Naeun and Joonho cry, Naeun cradling her son’s face while Joonho wipes the blood of Kija’s temple with trembling fingers.

Naeun’s sobs ring between Taehyung’s ears. His hands fly up to them to muffle the sound of the crying mother clutching onto her dead child.

It’s Taehyung’s fault.

If Taehyung had stayed with Kija, Kija wouldn’t be dead.

If he had checked up on Kija earlier, then he’d still be alive.

It he had—

“Taehyung—”

Taehyung doesn’t stay to hear the rest of Naeun’s sentence. He springs up and runs away.

…

…

…

“Son, are you certain?”

Taehyung nods.

He hasn’t left his bedroom in weeks, and he won’t today. He refuses to. He can’t possibly show his face to Kija’s parents when he’s the one at fault. He doesn’t deserve to be there, and Naeun and Joonho don’t deserve to have this day plagued with their son's murderer.

“Taehyung…”

Taehyung is bundled below his blanket, tremors running through his body under his repressed sobs. He feels a weight behind him as his bed dips.

“This was not your fault.”

Taehyung’s upper lip twitches. He doesn’t want to snap at his mother. She also doesn’t deserve that.

“It was an accident. Naeun and Joonho know that. Kija, from where he is now, knows it too."

“Just—” Taehyung inhales and exhales. He counts in his head to trample down his ire. “Just leave me alone. Please.” An arm wraps around him, then lips press against his temple.

“I love you, my son.”

Taehyung never attends the funeral.

Taehyung blinks through the tears. It’s when a small hand holds onto his that he looks down.

“I know it happened because of me, and I know I should’ve stayed home, but the homework was really boring,” Kija mumbles through a pout.

Taehyung’s brows furrow, his lips trembling. He embraces Kija, thankful when Kija hugs him back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Kija’s arms tighten around Taehyung’s neck. “It’s okay Taetae. It didn’t hurt, you know.” Kija releases his hold to lean back and look up at Taehyung. “I remember, but it didn’t hurt. The cliff broke and then I fell and I woke up. And then I could go through trees and scare people."

Taehyung can still vividly recall the ghastly sight of Kija's body, of the blood that had seeped everywhere: on the shorts and shirt, in the hair, and the small, too weak wings. “S’good. Don’t want you to remember any pain.”

As Taehyung would always do whenever the boy would do well, Kija raises an arm to pat the top of Taehyung’s head. “You’re okay, Taetae.”

Taehyung can’t suppress his sob this time. He doesn’t even try as he hugs Kija again but he lets go seconds later to cup Kija’s cheeks to press their forehead together.

“Taetae,” Kija starts and leans back with a frown. “You’re supposed to say thank you.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung says through a wet laugh.

Kija’s snickering is interrupted by a long, drawn out yawn. He rubs his fists against his eyes, and his form is not as bright as it had been minutes ago. “M’sleepy.”

“It’s normal,” Jungkook says. His eyes are swollen and red too. “You’re ready for bed now, aren't you?”

Taehyung understands what Jungkook means. 

He stares at Jungkook for a moment and Jungkook peers back at him, waiting. 

Then Taehyung nods, a curt, reluctant motion. He clears his throat and discreetly wipes his eyes regardless of how pointless it is. “Say, Kija, do you want to go to sleep? I’ll watch over you so you can nap peacefully.”

“Mhm,” Kija hums and slumps against Taehyung. “Can I sleep on you?”

“‘course.”

Taehyung tucks Kija against his chest, arms wrapped around the boy. He shields him from the cold with his cloak, draping it over the two of them.

Jungkook rests a hand at the back of Kija’s head. “All cozy and warm now?”

“Yes, thank you,” Kija says, the syllables slurred together. “Take care of Taetae please, even when he’s mean because—” He pauses to yawn and make himself more comfortable on Taehyung’s lap. “Because he makes you pick up pine cones, ‘cause you’ve been bad.”

“I will, I promise,” Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t worry.”

Taehyung can feel Kija nodding his head.

“I love you Taetae. I missed you.”

Taehyung muffles his muted cries against Kija’s crown, his eyes closing as he whispers “I love you too, sleep well.”

“S’not your fault, okay? But I forgive you anyway Taetae.”

The weight Taehyung has had to carry for nearly a decade alleviates in his mind, body and soul as a whole.

Kija’s form loses more and more of its light. Amidst the tears, Taehyung can see Jungkook’s fire flickering where a heart would be in Kija’s chest. Jungkook’s eyes are shut, the black flames enveloping his arms. Kija’s soul becomes less solid and visible in Taehyung’s arms, less present and existing. The flames grow, and they don’t burn even as some touch Taehyung’s skin.

Taehyung doesn’t get to say or hear more. He doesn’t have the time to whisper reassuring words to Kija as the ethereal body loses its shape, withdrawing where Jungkook’s flames reside in it. The blue, glowing soul is consumed by the flames, dissipating in a gust of snowy, raven smoke.

The cloak falls from where it had been swathing Kija.

The tattoos covering Jungkook's arms retract, his eyes reverting back to their misty brown. “I think…” Jungkook trails off, his gaze meeting Taehyung’s. “I think this was why he hadn’t passed, Taehyung. He wanted you to know it wasn't your fault”

Taehyung nods, unable to speak.

“I won’t propose to hug you, but I can hold your hand if you want.”

Taehyung wouldn’t be able to stop crying if someone asked him to, or if the shame grew sour. So when he grabs a tentative hold of Jungkook’s wrist, he blames it on the coldness surrounding them, that he's seeking warmth rather than comfort. 

The slow, steady pulse of Jungkook's heart that beats beneath the pulp of Taehyung's fingers is calming for reasons Taehyung does not question. He’s too tired for that.

“I wasn’t—” When Taehyung blinks, a tear falls down on their clasped hands. “Wasn’t expecting any of that, and I shouldn’t trust what I saw."

“I’m not lying and this wasn’t a ploy,” Jungkook rasps, an edge to his timber.

“I know.” Taehyung surveys Jungkook. “I know. This was Kija.”

“It was.”

A rustle erupts in the forest. 

Taehyung’s head darts toward it.

His tensed muscles relax when he sees a bird fly off in the night sky. “We should go." Taehyung unfastens his fingers from Jungkook's, unsure on whether to feel repulsion at the touch or a sliver of alien comfort. “I’ll fly us back.”

“Okay.”

Taehyung stands. Jungkook mirrors him.

Taehyung’s gaze traces the headstone, up to the fully grown dragon that should have been Kija. It’s a strange feeling that rises in him, as though he’s grieving the boy again. However this time, it’s not riddled with guilt. It’s lighter. More appeased and relieved.

With the image of Kija’s smiling face in mind, Taehyung grabs the pouch of nixes, and flies off with Jungkook.

Taehyung cries for the majority of the night once secured in the privacy of his bedroom. Then he passes out on the floor, only to wake up crying and dozing off once more on his bed this time. He sleeps until late afternoon, restless at first then more serene.

Jungkook had said nothing when they had gotten back. He had not pushed Taehyung to explain the scent of death in the basement either.

However Taehyung knows that he’s delaying the inevitable the longer he sits immobile on his mattress and ponders on what to do.

After what has happened last night; after Jungkook has granted him another token of trust and a closure Taehyung had never allowed himself to experience with Kija; Jungkook deserves to have some of his questions answered.

So Taehyung climbs down the stairs in the evening, finding Jungkook loitering in the living room.

Jungkook glances at Taehyung. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Taehyung croaks out and he walks to the kitchen to serve himself a cup of water.

“I made some crêpes. Junhyun gave me a recipe. The strawberry jam is next to the plate. But if you want a more filling meal, there’s some leftovers in the cooler.”

“Crêpes’ fine.”

A silence stretches between the two. 

Taehyung grows more and more angsty. He distracts himself by making some coffee and munching on a crêpe while waiting for his beverage to brew.

“I’ll only say it once,” Jungkook starts, “but if you ever want to talk about Kija or anything else, I’m here. I won’t judge, and neither will I speak if you don’t want me to.”

Taehyung doesn’t look at Jungkook, his back to him, but he nods and hopes that Jungkook has seen it. He's uncomfortable enough as he is.

Minutes later, settled on his armchair, Taehyung opts to simply pretend like nothing has occurred and he says “What do you want to know about the basement?”

Jungkook lowers his book, the basilisk on his lap.

“I’m wondering how much I’ve misjudged you, if your family is a murderous one or not.”

“We’re not,” Taehyung sighs and reclines against his seat.

“Well... You can’t blame me for thinking that. I still am, to be honest. You haven’t given me any reason not to.”

“We didn’t kill any of those dragonborns. Why would I, my parents, or Jimin, ever do this? If we'd actually murdered those dragonborns, why would I care so much about whether or not you’re here to decimate us? I'd never hurt a dragonborn unless I deem it warranted. Or accidental,” he adds, his thoughts fleeting back to last night.

“Warranted like with Seungwon?"

“Like that bastard.”

“And like Minho,” Jungkook carries on, an arm bent on his chair, his chin supported by his hand.

“Or Woobin,” Taehyung finishes. “Would you like a list of the dragonborns I’d like to put under?” He adds as a sarcastic jab.

“Actually, yes, if you’re willing to provide it. It’d be nice to know who my betrothed sees as an enemy."

Taehyung huffs.

He breathes a little easier now, the air not as terse and dense as it had been before. 

Unlike what Taehyung had anxiously expected, the Prince isn’t mocking him for his effusion of sentiment last night. Jungkook isn’t allowing the air to grow stiff, and neither is he pitying Taehyung or bringing forth Kija, an attention that Taehyung is thankful for.

“Who killed those dragonborns, then?” Jungkook asks.

“I can’t say.”

Jungkook hums and when he tilts his head, the basilisk does too. If Taehyung had not been the prideful man that he is, he would squirm under the scrutiny of the two beings staring at him. At least this time Jungkook’s eyes aren’t as frightening as they had been when he had used his arcane.

“You seemed scared at the pit,” Jungkook starts. “I said that you must have a really good motive to marry me: a human and heir to the Jeon dynasty.”

“And?”

“And fear could be a great incentive. You’re scared,” Jungkook states. Taehyung does not try to deny it. “Something happened or is still happening, and it terrified you. Still is. Fear is the only sentiment I can think of that would bring you to push aside your hatred for us.”

Jungkook is dangerous, Taehyung realizes at once, and not due to his basilisk, his arcane or the influence his lineage has over humans.

Taehyung does not speak or move. He remains expressionless, yet something must betray him because Jungkook’s lips curl upward, his gaze calculating as he peers at Taehyung through the strands of hair cascading his forehead.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I’m sure the Queen and King loved hearing about this,” Taehyung tests.

“I haven’t told them.”

“You’re gaining compromising information about us, and you didn’t share it with your parents? Really?”

“I did not. Why would I?”

Why would he indeed if his rancor for his parents is true? 

“Do they know about that arcane of yours?”

“No.”

“What would happen if I told them?”

The basilisk hisses, as expected. A liquid — venom — skims down the fangs. Jungkook’s aloof stare veers into a glare, his teeth gritting as the muscles of his jaw shift. As expected too.

“Let’s avoid any unfortunate end for the both of us,” Jungkook eventually answers, a certain nervousness coating his voice.

After all, Jungkook is the one who has given away his sensitive secret.

“How come you haven’t told them about your arcane? How come they don’t know, to begin with?” 

And how is Jungkook a warlock if his parents are humans? Arcane cannot simply blossom in someone out of nowhere and then be used by them. A person is born with or without arcane, all depending on their ancestry.

“Arcane frightens Seohyung and Sungmin as much as it interests them,” Jungkook shrugs. “If they were to know about my necromancy now, they would kill me. Or worse.”

“And what other ability does she have?” Taehyung says with a nod toward Revna.

“As I said, it’s personal to me. Plus I've responded to many of your queries and shared a lot with you, more than with anyone else aside from Joon and Yoongi.”

A silence floats between them.

“You’re right,” Taehyung eventually says.

“Regarding?”

“What you said about fear.” It’s insignificant enough to not be a damning admission.

“What frightens you?”

“Can’t tell.”

“Am I in danger?”

Taehyung can’t help but laugh. “Not unless you’re part of the instigators.”

“Thank God,” Jungkook exclaims and relaxes on his seat. “I haven’t instigated anything so I am safe. Alas.”

“You’re overly confident again,” Taehyung mumbles, dizzied by Jungkook’s change in demeanor.

Jungkook reverts back to his old self: bratty and pouty, which is both infuriating but also relieving somehow. “Am I? I’m not scheming any Machiavellian plot against dragonborns. You know, I've been greatly stressed since you and your family started giving me the cold shoulder. You've told them what the ring found,” he adds, accusatory. “Meaning that if I fully want my peace back, I have to tell your parents that I’m a necromancer."

Taehyung drums his fingers on his knee. He ponders over this for a moment. “You don’t have to tell them. I can explain that we talked, and that I deemed what I found safe. Or at least safe to us. For now. I guess.”

Jungkook laughs. “You don’t even sound convinced of yourself.”

“Because I still don’t trust you. I just… distrust you less.” Remembrance of Taehyung holding Jungkook’s hand flickers in his head. “I just jumped the gun on several things.”

“Actually, I have a question about your whole investigation.”

“So do I. You recognized Yoongi’s book, didn’t you?”

“Yup,” Jungkook smiles and pops out the ‘p’. “I was wondering how you ended up with it, and then I questioned how Hoseok got in contact with Yoongi. But then I recalled that Yoongi has worked with a lot of dragonborns, so...”

“I should’ve known,” Taehyung grumbles, feeling stupid for having figured this out so late. “I knew something was wrong with your reaction after seeing that book.”

“Is this why you snatched mine away?”

“More or less… I initially theorized that you were the warlock I was dealing with in the book,” Taehyung confesses.

Jungkook blinks a couple times.

Then he bursts into a loud, obnoxious laughter, and the basilisk seems to experience the same hilarity because she emits a series of hisses as she bumps her snout against Jungkook’s cheek. “Oh my God!”

"Shut up."

"You're an imbecile!"

“Shut up!”

“No! You—”

“It made sense!” Taehyung roars. “First you acted like you were familiar with the book and then there was this whole weird mess with the timing that was so damn off! Whenever you’d write in your own book, writing would appear in mine! What else was I supposed to think!”

“But why would I do it right in front of you, an irrationally paranoid man?!”

Taehyung glares at the closed curtains. He folds a leg over his knee and slumps down his seat. “S’what I thought after ruining your notebook. Accidentally, ruining it.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Jungkook giggles .

“Fuck off.”

“But you’re smart too. Somewhat,” Jungkook adds with a teasing smile. “It’s a nice change from the other suitors I’ve had.”

“I’m definitely better than any of them,” Taehyung can’t help but uselessly provide.

“Debatable," Jungkook hums.

Taehyung pins Jungkook with a stony look.

Taehyung wouldn't say he's happy, but he's experiencing something akin to this. He hadn’t realized how stifling the mutual enmity had been for the past couple weeks until it finally vanished. Jungkook could still be lying, and he is definitely hiding a few more secrets, however Taehyung has a leverage he can use against Jungkook now if need be.

All in all, the ease of the bickering they fall into is nice. 

Well. 

Perhaps not nice. ‘Better’ is a more fitting term.

“Is what you fear related to the sealed door in your parents’ basement?”

"How—"

“You’re not the only one who knows how to spy on someone.”

Taehyung is impressed, but he’d rather shrivel and die than admit it to the smug Prince. “You fucking viper.”

“Partially unrelated, but can we both agree on not spying, stalking or, hmm, playing games with the other anymore? I think we both prefer confrontations anyway, and we clearly thrive at doing so.” Mirth dances in Jungkook's eyes.

“That’s fine by me.”

“Great. That still doesn’t answer my question about the sealed door. Is it there to protect something or someone? Doesn’t seem like it,” Jungkook muses after a lull. “Unless the door is keeping away what is frightening you."

As he had unwillingly done so before, Taehyung must give away an answer because Jungkook gasps, the basilisk peering up at him when he does. 

“Oh I’m right!”

“Shut up.”

“I found it so odd how you categorically refused to go downstairs in your parents’ basement when you have no trouble entering our own. Meaning that your problem with your parents’ basement is related to what’s inside of it, not the place itself."

Taehyung doesn’t mean to gawk and unwillingly stroke Jungkook's ego, but he does anyway. He's impressed, but he’d rather shrivel and die than admit it to the smug Prince. “Are you some kind of fucking genius mastermind?”

“Yes,” Jungkook replies without missing a beat. “That means I won the bet, by the way.”

“No. I did. I found out about your arcane first.”

“You somewhat found out.”

“So did you. Meanwhile I not only know that you’re a necromancer, but I also know about her and her arcane."

“I’m the one who mentioned your secret first, so technically, I won.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“If so, let’s call it a draw.”

“Nope.”

“I’m not going through the bet.”

“Oh so the Prince won’t stick up to his words? Shocking.”

“ I am . You’re the one who isn’t. We clearly both partially figured out each other’s secret, and since we can’t determine who did first, it's a draw."

“Technically, you haven’t figured out mine fully.”

“Technically, you haven’t figured out mine fully either."

“What else are you hiding, huh? Got another pet of yours I should worry about?”

“Can’t tell,” Jungkook says, in an echo of Taehyung’s earlier responses.

“Damned brat.”

Jungkook snickers. “But I don’t have any other deadly friend like Revna. As for my other secret, as I said, rather than a secret, it’s personal and related to my arcane, but you know almost everything about it already.” His timber is soft but it sounds unhappy. “The last couple weeks were kinda terrible, and it'd be nice if it doesn’t become this uncomfortable again because you’re convinced that I’m scheming something.”

“I questioned your hatred for Seungwon and your parents after finding out about the ancient arcanes.”

Jungkook’s head shifts to arch a brow at Taehyung. “I thought I made it clear that if there is one matter you can trust, it’s my contempt for them.”

“That I understood when we followed Seungwon.”

Jungkook’s repulsion and anger had been potent back then, heightened by the shiver that had run through his body, by his scent that had turned more and more sour the longer they had been in Seungwon’s presence, and by the nails that had sunk through his clothes and bitten at Taehyung's skin.

“Are you afraid of Seungwon?”

“Yes," Jungkook answers with honesty.

“Is your fear malleable?”

Jungkook’s shoulders shrug with the huff he exhales. “Not the way you’re implying. I wouldn’t work for him and do what he asks.”

“You have in the past though,” Taehyung cheaply counters.

“I have. And then I bit off his earlobe.”

Right…

“Are we good?”

Taehyung blinks in confusion. “Uh?”

“Are we good?” Jungkook repeats. Similar to his basilisk, Jungkook is curled up on his armchair, thighs pressed against his chest, and he looks demure when his tentative gaze meets Taehyung’s, the bottom of his face buried against his knees.

“I don’t know about good,” Taehyung starts, “but I don’t feel like snapping your neck anymore. Take that as you will.”

“What about my arcane? Will it be a problem?”

“I have plenty of questions, but they can wait after the wedding,” Taehyung says as he stands. The underlying meaning of his words is caught by Jungkook if Jungkook’s smile is any indication.

“Okay, we’re good, then. Meanwhile, I don’t feel like running away anymore because I thought you and your family may have been serial killers.”

“Can’t believe you entertained that idea for a second."

“I don’t anymore.”

Taehyung pauses as he stares outside through the bay windows, the purple and orange hues of the dusk surrounding them. He shudders when he sees a movement in the trees. “Wait.” He swivels around to watch Jungkook. “Are there any ghosts in the house?”

Jungkook snorts. “No, don’t worry.”

Taehyung internally sighs in relief.

“Also, I call them lost souls or souls. I prefer it to the word ‘ghost’."

"Sure."

"And please, do keep my arcane to yourself,” Jungkook warns through a yawn. “I’m gonna head to bed.”

Taehyung waits until Jungkook is almost out of earshot. “Thank you.”

Jungkook’s head peeks out from behind the railing, his smile kind. “You’re welcome. Thank you for listening last night and being… accepting. Oh,” he exclaims, “and if you found some scattered bags with necessities in it, don’t mind them.”

“What?”

“Let’s just say I was heavily prepared to leave in case you reacted badly.”

“Of course you were…"

“Goodnight, Taehyung.”

Taehyung does not answer as he walks outside.

His trip to his parents’ home is short. He opens the door, greeted by his father who's settled at the coffee table, his mother on a trip to Amaris.

“Taehyung, how was your—” Junhyun pauses. His eyes draw a quick once over of Taehyung’s face. A concerned frown knits his face. “My son, has something happened?”

Before Taehyung can backtrack, he says “Can we go see Naeun and Joonho together?”

If Junhyun is taken aback by the request, he shows no sign of it. Instead, he rises to his feet, and when he reaches Taehyung, he tugs him into a hug. Taehyung’s hands grip at the back of his father’s shirt. “I’m proud of you, my son. They will be happy to see you.”

Taehyung doubts it but he remains quiet.

He's still silent as he and his father fly to Naeun and Joonho’s familiar house.

The lights are on inside. 

Taehyung and Junhyun come down, landing at the doorstep. Junhyun is the one to knock on the door. Taehyung's hands are too clammy and cowardly. 

His heart hammers within his chest, the pulsations erratic and uneven. 

The door swings open on Naeun. Her smile drops when her eyes land on Taehyung.

He should have known better.

This had been a terrible idea, emboldened by Kija’s courage and his words of forgiveness that haven’t left Taehyung’s mind.

Taehyung is about to fly off when Naeun rushes toward him and yanks him into a tight, bruising embrace.

“By the Elders… Taehyung, finally,” Naeun sighs in the dip of his neck. Taehyung doesn’t dare hugging her back, his arms dangling limply by his sides. “I’ve missed you so, so dearly. You cannot imagine—” Naeun halts. She leans back to cradle Taehyung's face, her thumb wiping at tears Taehyung hadn't noticed. “It felt as though we had lost two sons that day.”

Taehyung clasps onto Naeun’s wrists. “I’m sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“I know. Elders and I know, Taehyung. We forgive you, even if there is nothing to be forgiven.” Naeun smiles before twisting her head around. “Joonho! Taehyung is here!”

A clatter erupts at the back. Seconds later, Joonho appears in the living room, his face aghast and eyes widened.

“Oh you—” Joonho marches toward Taehyung and smacks his crown. He unceremoniously shoves Naeun away to bring Taehyung into a hug. “You damn fool,” Joonho says and ignores the slap his scowling mate lands on the back of his head. “Do you have any idea of how boring life has been without someone to carve wood with?”

Taehyung emits a sound that is half a laugh and half a sob. He doesn’t hesitate when he reciprocates the embrace, burying his face on Joonho’s shoulder. “It’s been a while.”

“I noticed Seungwon has yet to receive his invitation. He was quite saddened by the news, and I took it upon myself to summon him for the wedding.”

See, Jungkook always expects the meetings with Amaris’ rulers — and more specifically the Queen — to go horrendously wrong. Today has proven itself to be worse than anything he could have anticipated. 

Taehyung's scoff catches Jungkook's attention as the dragonborn glances at the scar marring Jungkook's cheek. “Jungkook and I agreed on rescinding Seungwon's invitation." 

He, Jungkook and Dahee are seated in a loveseat facing the one the Queen is installed on. 

“You can retract the invitation again," Taehyung continues with an authoritative tone.

“I’m afraid it is too late,” the Queen says with a tight lipped smile.

“You’re mistaking my words.” Taehyung’s voice dips into those raspy waters it tends to fall into whenever his temper is ignited. "I’m not asking. Seungwon is not joining the wedding, nor any part of the ceremony.”

“Neither am I asking,” the Queen counters.

“It’s fairly simple,” Taehyung begins, "you either take Seungwon’s invitation back, or the ceremony will be done behind closed doors. If we're efficient enough, the wedding can happen as soon as…” He peers outside the window. “A few hours. The time needed for Jungkook and I to get back to our house and have it be officiated there.”

“The wedding is a public event. It will—”

“Not happen if Seungwon is there."

Jungkook bites down on the inside of his cheek to suppress his and Revna’s hilarity at the peeved expression that pinches the Queen’s face.

“What feud do you have with this dragonborn?”

“Many."

Jungkook wonders what it may be as well. Taehyung’s hatred for Seungwon is too acute for it to be impersonal.

“I’m sure Jungkook has no trouble with Seungwon being there," Seohyung says with a pointed look.

Jungkook can sense Taehyung’s gaze on him along with everyone else’s. His clasped hands tighten together. Revna’s ire grows. Opposing the Queen is foolish. It only results in discipline, shut rooms and isolation.

However...

However, Jungkook isn't so alone anymore, he thinks, his knee pressed against Taehyung’s.

In the past, Namjoon and Yoongi had been there to take Jungkook’s side if an argument would arise, but even then their help had been limited, dismissed for the most part. On the other hand with the Kim family, the Queen does not have any leverage to force obedience from them. 

With renewed courage fed from the freedom he's had the privilege to bask into since moving to Vanae, Jungkook speaks.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I do not wish to see this man at my wedding.”

“That settles it,” Taehyung concludes, not moving from the points of contact on their thighs.

“I cannot simply cancel the invitation. It does not work this way,” the Queen says.

“Perhaps it was a problem to consider before sending it without our consent,” Taehyung retorts.

“ Jungkook. ” 

Jungkook does not avert his eyes from the Queen.

“You must be aware of the fact that Seungwon’s presence will be a great display of forgiveness, and that no childish resentment festers between our families after the difficulties you have caused."

An incredulous laugh escapes Jungkook. “The difficulties I caused?”

“Yes, as you tend to."

“Seungwon is not coming to the ceremony." Jungkook has half a mind to allow Revna to come out of the ruby and sink her fangs into the Queen's hand as she desires to. "This is not a debate, nor is it negotiable.”

“Do not forget your place, Son," the Queen snips. "Namjoon and Yoongi haven’t.”

Jungkook isn’t sure what prompts Taehyung to draw the gesture he does next. 

Perhaps Taehyung wants to reassure Jungkook — although Jungkook doubts it. Or maybe it’s due to what Jungkook had requested some time ago about ‘acting satisfied’. Nonetheless, a hand rests on Jungkook’s leg, respectful of his boundaries as it does not venture higher than the knee. 

A saccharine smile that is anything but kind floats on Taehyung's lips. “I can assure you that he very well knows his place, which is by my side, as my betrothed, future King of Amaris, and co-leader of Vanae.”

Jungkook can only imagine the bitterness the acknowledgement must have left on Taehyung’s tongue, but Jungkook still smiles, all that he can do to conceal his surprise.

His pinky knocks against Taehyung’s, inquisitive. They haven’t talked about hand holding and other small gestures like these, after all. 

Taehyung’s fingers on Jungkook’s knee squeeze, and Jungkook takes that as a permission to cover the back of Taehyung’s hand, tucking the tip of his fingers under the palm.

Taehyung’s hand is warm. The fingers are long, some with calluses on them and the heel of the palm. Jungkook can even see some faint scars on the knuckles, most likely earned through hunting or the wood carving hobby that to this day still takes Jungkook aback. 

He has caught Taehyung carving miniature sculptures a few times in their garden, and watching the energetic, gruff dragonborn sit still for hours on end while painstakingly chiseling a piece of wood into an admittedly adorable creature has been an endearing sight.

“So, Queen Seohyung,” Dahee starts. “What do you say? I fear our sons are quite adamant about their decision, and a wedding without its main participants would be worthless, would it not?”

The Queen's stony eyes dart on Jungkook and Taehyung's tangled hands. Her nose twitches. “Seungwon has to attend the wedding.”

“Why is that?” Dahee asks.

“Because we have to make up for the embarrassment Jungkook has brought upon my family.”

Jungkook’s fingers constrict. He relents his clamp when he realizes that his nails had been sinking into Taehyung’s palm. He peers at Taehyung, to convey a mute apology, however Taehyung appears unfazed, his eyes devoid of any irritation.

“Do you really want to prioritize your hurt feelings over your reputation?” Taehyung questions next. “Because I can assure you that if Seungwon is present at the ceremony, I’ll whisper into any willing ears tales of how the Queen has invited the very man that has raised his hands on her son. You mention Jungkook bringing shame upon your family, and I wonder who really will if your people learn that you’ve turned a blind eye on what Seungwon has done to Jungkook.”

Jungkook thanks the Gods that he does not live at the citadel anymore, otherwise he would be the recipient of the Queen’s growing wrath. He strokes an index over Taehyung’s knuckles to ease the grip of the fingers, and it works, strangely enough. Taehyung's clutch not only relaxes, but also translates into the brush of a thumb across Jungkook's thigh.

“For someone who holds a particularly vehement hatred for humans, you certainly show a surprising care for Jungkook,” the Queen remarks.

“We’ve been getting to know each other, talking about our favorite color,” Taehyung shrugs. “Nevertheless, I wouldn’t be pleased to see at my wedding the man that had once hurt my betrothed.”

The Queen’s chest rises around a huffed chuckle. “And what could happen, exactly, if Seungwon is there? You cannot possibly start a civil war.”

“No, but a challenge can.”

Dahee emits an ‘Oh’ on Jungkook's right, and whatever has been said seems to have thrown both mothers both for a loop.

“A challenge?” Jungkook echoes, half lost and half curious.

Taehyung glances at Jungkook. “It’s an old… tradition.”

“What happens during this ‘old tradition’?”

“A fight.”

“Dragonborns’ challenges have grown obsolete,” the Queen counters.

Taehyung smiles. He retracts his hand from Jungkook’s knee. Jungkook misses the warmth and anchor the touch had provided, but it's made a little better when Taehyung arm drapes atop the loveseat’s backrest, pressed against Jungkook’s shoulder blades.

A hand cups Jungkook’s chin, the fingers sliding to grab a better hold of his jaw. Jungkook does not brace against the touch, feeling no revulsion unlike he would if it had been Seungwon. Instead, he allows Taehyung to turn his head, the dragonborn's eyes cast down on the beige and sunken line engraved on Jungkook's cheek.

“Seungwon gave you this, hasn’t he?” Taehyung asks.

“I—” Jungkook and Taehyung's faces are close enough for him to feel Taehyung’s breath on his warming cheek when the latter speaks. “He... He did, yes.”

Still cradling Jungkook’s jaw in a way that is unusually gentle, Taehyung tilts his head to stare at the Queen. “This scar is enough to warrant a challenge if I desire to. It begs the question of how important your partnership with Seungwon is. If I am to challenge him, he’ll die." 

Jungkook shivers at the low timber, a content warmth flickering in his chest. 

“He won’t win against me, and he’s too prideful to surrender. So it’s up to you, really,” Taehyung finishes and releases Jungkook.

Taehyung reclines, creating some sliver of distance between them, but Jungkook shuffles closer to tuck himself against Taehyung’s side. The crawl on Jungkook's skin ebbs away at the myriad of points of contact he and Taehyung's bodies share.

“You leave me no choice,” Seohyung sneers, her eyes narrowed around a downturn curl of her lips. “I had not anticipated such a cunning, meager ultimatum from you.”

Taehyung smiles back. “I’m delightfully unpredictable."

That Jungkook can agree with.

The Queen's eyes shift between Jungkook and Taehyung. This time, Jungkook is the one to lay a palm on Taehyung’s thigh, partially to seek comfort, but also to hide the tremors coursing through his fingers. Jungkook can’t stop worrying about the Queen calling off the wedding with the Kim family to, in lieu, wed him with Seungwon.

Jungkook would rather avoid becoming a fugitive Prince, if possible. 

“Fine,” the Queen sighs. “I will retract the invitation.”

Jungkook exhales a small breath. His muscles relax and Revna does too in her ruby, the sharpness of her anger alleviating.

“Excellent!” Dahee cheers with a clap. “Now that it is out of the way, we should discuss other invited guests and ensure that none of them can accidentally trigger a conflict.”

“Of course." The Queen rises to her feet. “Allow me to fetch our wedding planner. I will be quick.”

She strides toward the double doors that the two guards open for her, framing her as the three of them vacate the place.

“Fuck."

Jungkook internally echoes Taehyung's expletives.

"Hellish pig."

“I’m proud of you, Jungkook, you were really brave,” Dahee praises and pats his leg.

Jungkook peers back at her, the warmth in his chest spreading.

“Her face was fucking hilarious,” Taehyung snickers. “Can’t believe she thought she could invite the other pig.”

“Try to be less abrasive with her, Son. Let’s not mindlessly provoke her."

“I think this,” Taehyung points at Jungkook’s cheek, “is reason enough. Among other things, like the fact that I can’t stand her or Seungwon.”

“Keep in mind that you shouldn’t challenge him either way. It is too risky, and we have too much at stake already.”

“I know. I was bluffing,” Taehyung grumbles and Jungkook refrains from laughing at the way the dragonborn deflates, evidently disappointed. 

“Hopefully the Queen hasn’t noticed this.”

“She didn’t,” Jungkook affirms. “You were convincing.” His and Taehyung’s gaze lock, the latter unreadable. It’s when Taehyung’s knee jumps up and down that Jungkook is reminded that his hand is still curved over Taehyung’s knee. He promptly removes it. “What if he joins the ceremony anyway?”

“Would the Queen go against her own words?”

“She usually doesn’t, but she tends to find loopholes.”

“We’re fine then,” Taehyung dismisses. “And if Seungwon does make his appearance at the wedding, I’ll chase him away as I said.”

“You’ll challenge him?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “But I can provoke him until he strikes first and then I’ll get the chance to either strike back or challenge him. Whichever comes first." A dreamy look smoothing out the wrinkles of his glower. “By the Elders... The wedding would be a glorious day if I were to bash his face into a bloody pulp.”

“You’re really confident,” Jungkook distractedly notes. Taehyung hasn’t pulled away yet: their sides are still pressed flushed, Jungkook’s shoulder nestled under Taehyung’s arm.

“Because I have every right to be. I’m the most powerful dragonborn the world has ever gotten the chance to know.”

“That is simply not true at all,” Dahee counters at the playful answer.

Taehyung purses his lips. “Mom…” 

Dahee snickers, echoed by Jungkook who imagines a young Taehyung boasting about his many breaths.

“Seungwon is powerful too,” Jungkook pipes up. “And a trickster. He can win by using dishonest methods.”

“He could certainly try.”

Jungkook huffs. If a challenge is to unfold, he worries about what Taehyung’s potential defeat may engender. 

“Seungwon won’t kill you, if this is what your horrible frown is about."

“Death doesn’t frighten me,” Jungkook says with a knowing smile that Taehyung reacts to with a roll of his eyes, “and Seungwon could do worse than killing. I know my feelings don’t matter much to you, but I’m still concerned about him snatching me away.”

“If he does, I’ll snatch you back.”

Jungkook does not think it’s possible for a heart to achieve this in the first place, but it stutters anyway.

He doesn’t know what he’s searching for in Taehyung’s gaze, if he’ll ever decipher the puzzle Taehyung makes, however he can’t unearth any manipulative care in it. While Taehyung can be hard to read sometimes, he also holds a simplicity in him honed by a blunt honesty.

It’s refreshing and so pleasing.

“You may be powerful, but even you wouldn’t be able to find me if Seungwon hides me somewhere,” Jungkook settles on saying, lest he does something as psychotic as holding Taehyung’s hand once more.

“I remember you mentioning a tracking spell. Maybe you should ask that warlock friend of yours to make you one."

“Perhaps I should,” Jungkook muses. “If it’s a two way kind of spell, you could have the other half?”

“Why me,” Taehyung grunts and withdraws his arm from the top of the backrest to cross them over his chest.

“Because you’re strong,” Jungkook teases with a quirk of his brow. Plus he can’t think of anyone else he’d give the other half of the spell to aside from Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Doesn’t mean I want to use my strength for you.”

“You’re an annoying prick.”

“Takes one to recognize another.”

Jungkook pinches Taehyung’s thigh at the childish retort. The motion is retaliated by a zap on the back of his neck.

“You two. Behave,” Dahee chastises. “The harpy is returning.”

Jungkook emits a loud laugh that he muffles in his hand. Dahee winks at him.

The Queen enters the meeting room, accompanied by a man and a pile of papers that the wedding planner deposits on the coffee table.

“Let us begin,” the Queen says.

They talk. 

And talk some more.

It’s dull, really. The conversation is a mind-numbing circle of all that Jungkook already knows about the wedding’s organization. Jungkook is bored.

On the other hand, a tightness rises in Taehyung's jaw and clenched teeth. He hasn’t spoken a word since the Queen has come back, aside from the instance where he discreetly shuffles away from Jungkook. 

Jungkook retraces what has been said, but he can’t figure out what could have ignited Taehyung’s discomfort.

It takes over two hours before Taehyung and Jungkook can leave, Dahee staying behind to finalize a matter or two with the Queen.

Jungkook shudders when the outside chill hits him. Taehyung immediately shifts to his dragon counterpart and presents his talon. Jungkook climbs on it without contest, and the two of them fly back to the house.

Taehyung has been cold for the remainder of the day, night, and next few days.

Jungkook is lost.

He can’t pinpoint what has gone wrong during the meeting with the Queen.

Revna, who’s sliding across the floor and chasing after a ball of paper, has been darting glances at Taehyung, her worry coalescing with Jungkook’s confusion. She had questioned Jungkook with a hiss and twist of her head that Jungkook had answered with a shrug.

It had started with Taehyung cursing at the malfunctioning heater, then at a stuck lid of a strawberry jam he had ended up shattering into pieces after exerting a tad too much force to pry it open. He had gone out at some point to retrieve some logs that he had tossed near the fireplace in a loud rattle. What disconcerts Jungkook is the skittishness in Taehyung’s movements, the way they’re curt and surly, punctuated by a familiar scowl.

Jungkook doesn’t ask. It’s pointless and will only serve to make matters worse.

Later, when the sun has left its place for the moon, Jungkook twists and turns under his blanket. Revna is sleeping on Jungkook’s second pillow, blanketed by the heavy comforter.

He can't stop thinking of the step forward he and Taehyung had taken, only for it to be rendered null by the ten steps back they've taken at Amaris. Jungkook sighs. He doesn't want to make any effort to talk about this with Taehyung. 

After checking up on Revna and pecking her crown, Jungkook climbs off his bed, slides on his slippers and makes his way down the stairs. 

He fixes himself a glass of water. It’s when he passes by the glass solarium that he notices a presence in it.

Taehyung is pacing back and forth, hands shoved in his pants’ pockets as he rolls his shoulders. He walks from bay window to bay window, and the sight would be funny with the fluffy beige slippers clad on his feet if it hadn't been for the upset marring his face. Jungkook thinks that Taehyung has sensed his presence when he halts, however Taehyung resumes his walk to slump down on one of the lounging chairs placed at the center of the room.

Jungkook turns around and leaves his glass on the kitchen counter. He trudges to the solarium that he slides the glass doors of. 

The night sky is breathtaking outside, the stars countless and glimmering through the navy darkness, not a single cloud fogging their beauty. The interior of the solarium smells like a storm. It reminds Jungkook of the scent of rain that had poured in the living room when Seungwon had flown above the house one evening. 

Taehyung has an arm dangling from the chair’s arm, the other bent to support his tilted head.

Jungkook enters the room, leaning against a bay window. Taehyung doesn't budge.

“Taehyung?”

A curse responds to Jungkook, although Taehyung still seems unaware of someone else’s presence.

Taehyung hunches forward and rubs his palms on his face, muttering intelligible words to himself. He sighs, his muscles tense, and Jungkook sees why when the quivers in Taehyung’s hands travel down his arms and course through his body in waves of shudder.

Jungkook crosses the distance. He crouches near the lounging chair. “Taehyung? What’s going on?” He extends a hand, however when his fingers graze Taehyung’s arm, Taehyung flinches away with a swear.

“Don’t fuc— Don’t touch me.”

Jungkook doesn’t take it to heart, just like he hasn’t taken most of Taehyung’s rejections. “What’s wrong?”

“S’none of your damn business. Fuck.” Taehyung clenches and relaxes his hands only to pass them through his strands seconds later. “I’m not— I’m not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“The ceremony.”

“You want to call off the wedding?” Jungkook would be fine with it, but he’d like to have it confirmed now in order to prepare for his departure.

“No. I— Why didn’t I think of this? I'm so damn stupid.” Taehyung covers his mouth with his palm, a storm raging in his eyes. “Shit.”

“What—”

“Your parents will invite humans."

“To the ceremony, yes. You—”

“Do you know who?”

All at once, understanding dawns on Jungkook.

Jungkook had fathomed early on that Taehyung’s vicious hatred for humans is not one derived from the remnants of rivalry the Great War had elicited. It’s too personal to be induced by such an archaic vendetta.

“Are you worried about stumbling on humans you don’t like?”

Taehyung, to Jungkook’s surprise, nods after a brief moment, the motion curt and punctuated by a twist of his mouth and averting gaze. The trembling in Taehyung is more muted now, his body locked into stillness.

Witnessing Taehyung's withdrawal into this shell of shame and apprehension, so far from his usual brazenness, yanks at a part of Jungkook's heart. 

Jungkook kneels next to the chair while facing Taehyung, tucking his hands under his thighs. “If you tell me the names of the humans who— Of the humans you don’t like, we can make sure they aren’t invited.” Taehyung glances at Jungkook and shakes his head. “You can’t give their names?”

Is it unsafe?

“I can’t give what I don’t have.”

“I see... You’d recognize them if you were to see their faces?”

A silence falls between them for a while. Jungkook waits, not rushing Taehyung nor making any comments about the shine in the dragonborn’s eyes.

“I don’t know. It’s— I don’t know.”

“Were they from important or influential families?”

“I don’t know.”

“This makes it nearly impossible to figure out if some of them are—”

“And what the fuck do you want me to do about it? I’m trying to remember but I can’t and—”

“I said it's nearly impossible, not entirely. I can ask one of Seohyung’s assistants if they have a list of guests for the ceremony and feast. Or Dahee can.”

“Not my mother. Don’t want her to know.”

“To know what?”

“I don't need my mom to know her son is still weak.”

“Taehyung, you’re not—”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“And don’t interrupt me.” Jungkook pins Taehyung with a stern look. “Some things take time to heal, that doesn’t make you weak.”

“You don’t know anything.” Taehyung rubs the heel of his palms on his eyes. “Forget about it. I can handle it. I’m just tired.”

Taehyung makes a move to stand but Jungkook raises a hand. Jungkook catches himself in time before he can touch Taehyung. “I’ll ask for the list of guests. They’ll have painted portraits adjoining them. If you recognize anyone that you don’t want to see at the wedding, we’ll remove them.”

Taehyung's head lowers. “You don’t understand."

“Then help me understand."

Taehyung shakes his head again and when he raises it to face away from Jungkook, the tears are more evident in them. Jungkook’s own eyes prickle at the sight.

“How about a deal?” Jungkook offers. “I make sure to shun away anyone you don't like at the wedding, while you do the same with Seungwon if he's there.”

“You wouldn’t do it."

“You’ll see.” Jungkook grows quiet and so does Taehyung. Jungkook presses his thighs together in an effort to gather as much warmth as possible, the glacial breeze outside seeping through the solarium’s doors. “Are you cold?” Jungkook asks and Taehyung shrugs. “I’ll be right back.”

Jungkook walks to the living room where he plucks a pair of the blankets. He drapes one over himself and he folds another that he brings to the solarium. He hands it to Taehyung, however instead of taking it, Taehyung breaks the quietude.

“Why are you nice?”

“Uh?”

“Why are you nice to me,” Taehyung reiterates with an accusation that he, himself, winces at.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Taehyung emits a mirthless chuckle. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps because I’m an absolute asshole to a person who has objectively not done anything wrong to me, and I don't feel an ounce of guilt about it."

“I don’t know about the lack of guilt, but are my ears deceiving me, or have you finally admitted to being a prick?”

Taehyung sighs Jungkook’s name and it sounds tired on his tongue, lacking its usual bite. “Why are you nice?”

“Why not?” Taehyung's gaze darts across Jungkook’s face. “Acting like an ass toward me isn’t warranted at all, but it’s not hard for me to see that humans have wronged you or family in some ways. I remember how you reacted at the citadel and… It may sound childish, but I know you’re not as bad a person you make yourself out to be."

“So your grand selflessness is why you’re putting up with me."

“I’m not putting up with anything. I simply don’t care. Plus we can both agree that I give back as much snark as you do,” Jungkook quips and smiles at Taehyung's huff. “I also don’t dislike you. You’re pretty fun to be around.”

Taehyung’s head lolls to the side as he arches a brow.

“You're honest. For the most part,” Jungkook adds with a pointed look at his necklace. “You don’t understand how so lovely it is to be near someone who’s being himself and wants me to be myself as well. I’m nice for a selfless reason, but I also am for a selfish one born from the craving to be whatever I want, something that I can achieve around you.”

Taehyung’s quietness lingers, but he listens, his eyes not straying away from Jungkook.

“You don’t trust me, and I get that, but I hope you can accept that I’m not here with any ulterior motive. I want… It’s naive, but I just want to live, Taehyung. I want to be happy, I want to be a good king and co-leader to Amaris and Vanae. That’s all.” Jungkook stands. He pulls the edges of the blanket to envelop himself in it, feeling exposed after all he’s shared. “And I meant it about the deal. If a human you dislike is at the ceremony, you can tell me. I’ll have them escorted outside without questions."

Jungkook loiters for a bit, wondering if he’ll receive an answer, but when it becomes clear that he won’t, he swivels around to exit the solarium.

Back in his bedroom and sheltered from the cold, Jungkook cuddles against Revna, his thoughts occupied with Taehyung.

“Taehyung?” 

Jungkook searches through the living room then the kitchen. He also checks the solarium but when he still can’t find the dragonborn, he steps outside. It doesn’t take him long to stumble on Taehyung, the latter rummaging inside the double smokehouses. “Taehyung, do you have a minute?”

Taehyung’s head peeks out from the door left ajar. It disappears inside the smokehouse then reappears a moment later. He closes the fox door behind him.

After removing their shoes at the entrance, Jungkook leads them to the kitchen counter where a hefty compendium is deposited. “This is the list of every single human guest that will be invited to the wedding and participate in the feast and ball. I didn’t ask for those that will be present outside of the feast since they won’t be near us in any way.”

It took a small amount of convincing since, instead of directly asking the Queen, Jungkook had opted to steal the compendium thanks to Revna and Namjoon’s help.

“There will be around 300 guests, as you know.” Jungkook opens the front cover of the book. “Around 270 of them are humans, a few are warlocks. It’s a lot to go through, but it might be helpful.”

Taehyung sits on a stool and slides the book toward him. “Not to spit on your efforts.”

“But you’ll do exactly that."

“Unwillingly, yes.” Taehyung sifts through the compendium’s first few pages. “I don’t remember any faces.” His confession is laced with frustration. “I tried to recall the whole night and it’s… It’s not coming back to me. Not even a name. Nothing.”

“You might if you see them in the book, it could trigger some memories. Although I understand if you don’t want that to happen."

“The memories were triggered since we first had that dinner at Amaris.”

Jungkook removes his gloves, scarf and winter coat that he places on the coat hanger. Some coffee had been brewed earlier this afternoon and he heats it up, serving himself and Taehyung a cup. 

Jungkook doesn’t want to leave yet, and so he decides to bake some pancakes as an excuse to stay in the kitchen. He swiftly prepares the batter, used to sneak around at the citadel to make pancakes himself.

Taehyung is a third through the compendium when he makes a small noise, the first batch of pancake cooking in the pan.

Jungkook looks behind his shoulder. “Any familiar faces?”

“I’m not sure..."

“Which one?” Jungkook rounds the kitchen island. He rises on his toes and he leans over the counter to peer at the man Taehyung is pointing at. “We’re not inviting him?”

“No, it’s fine. I probably just caught a glimpse of him somewhere or something like that.”

“We can still retract the invitation for safety. I don’t like him, to be honest. He’s a pretentious numskull and don’t you dare say that it takes one to recognize another,” Jungkook adds in the same breath while brandishing his spatula. Taehyung innocently raises his hands. “Because if anything you're the pretentious prick too.”

“So what, you can read minds now on top of speaking with the dead?”

“No. As always, you’re just that predictable.”

“Fuck off.”

Jungkook saunters back to his pancakes with a chuckle.

Fifteen minutes later, he leaves the pile of goods on a plate, retrieving the new jar of strawberry jam. He spreads the jam on a pancake for Taehyung, doing the same on another with maple syrup. Jungkook hands the snack to Taehyung who distractedly grabs it.

“Where’s the strawberry—” Taehyung pauses when he glances up and sees the jam threatening to spill out of the rolled pancake.

“Already put some on it,” Jungkook needlessly provides.

Taehyung’s eyes narrow. “How did you know?”

“ Taehyung .”

“I told you to not patronize me.”

“I will because we’ve been living together for a month. I’ve learned a thing or two about you, one of them being that you’re a strawberry fanatic.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue but takes the midnight snack and bites on it while glaring at Jungkook. Jungkook pulls a stool to sit down opposite of Taehyung. 

“There’s no one who looks familiar,” Taehyung mutters and swings the book shut a while later. “Was damn useless.”

“It’s fine. We’ll ban any of them if they strike a memory at the wedding, okay? We can keep the compendium and figure out from it if some of those listed are part of the humans you don’t like. You may not remember any faces now, but you might one day.”

Taehyung props an elbow on the counter and rests his chin in his palm. He shamelessly stares ahead, his unreadable — and unnerving — attention riveted on Jungkook.

Jungkook isn’t the kind of man to be easily intimidated, yet he fidgets on his seat at Taehyung’s unwavering gaze. “What?”

“I’m gonna head to bed,” Taehyung declares yet still does not move. “You should as well.”

“I won’t be able to sleep for some time after eating those.” Jungkook gestures at his empty plate. He internally heaves a sigh when Taehyung finally looks away.

“Say the word and I’ll knock you out. Free of charge," Taehyung proposes as he stands. "You won’t even have to plead with me.”

Jungkook draws a faux moue. “You’re such a prick.”

Amusement paints Taehyung’s lips that are curved around the smallest smile Jungkook has ever seen, but it’s there, and Jungkook buries his grin in his palm.

When Jungkook comes downstairs to fill up his glass later that night, Taehyung is installed in one of the solarium’s lounging chairs, the bay windows wide open again. This time, Taehyung is wrapped in the blanket Jungkook had given him yesterday, the dragonborn fast asleep and curled up into a ball, hair tousled and sticking up in different directions.

Jungkook can't repress his fond chuckle that he muffles against his palm. 

Taehyung reminds Jungkook of the carmine nix that shrivels at the slightest warm touch and expands at a cold one. One day, perhaps, Taehyung will allow Jungkook to thaw at the fortress of ice he has built around himself.

Chapter Text

Today is the wedding.

It begins in exactly two hours, and this whole betrothal affair has proven itself to be a lot more nerve-inducing than Taehyung had anticipated it to be. 

He and his family are at Amaris, in a land that has been privatized for the occasion, and while the open space of the garden and large rooms would usually abate Taehyung’s sense of feeling trapped, it does nothing to his growing trepidation. He had been fine up till now, however after entering the castle where the feast and after-party will elapse, the constant reminder of the amount of humans he will be surrounded with for the rest of the evening and night had ignited his restlessness.

“My organs are about to spill out of my ass.”

“Charming.”

Taehyung’s head darts toward Jungkook who’s loitering on a chair, the Prince looking at ease, eons away from how Taehyung feels. 

The maids are bustling around the place, coming in and out of the castle to prepare the guests’ arrival and latter event. The festivities had already begun early in the morning for Amaris and Vanae’s inhabitants, the people celebrating and enjoying the plethora of stands and food crowding the streets.

Taehyung still hasn’t gotten the time or energy to digest the revelation of Jungkook's arcanic ancestry. He had first been occupied hunting with his squadrons, then the next day had been spent finessing the last touches of the ceremony and his garments, and today is— 

It’s the damn wedding .

Because Taehyung is getting married.

To a — partially — human heir.

“By the Elders,” Taehyung breathes out. “I’m getting married.”

“Well observed, detective,” Jimin jests as he enters the room.

“No. You don’t understand, Jimin. I’ll be married in a few hours. I’ll be tied up to him.” Taehyung points at Jungkook who arches a brow.

“And what a great honor it will be to have me as your husband. I’m quite jealous of you,” Jungkook sighs. “My own betrothed is a bit of a prick, a lot of an idiot, and always in denial about, well, everything. Including his own wedding!”

Jimin bursts into laughter.

Taehyung glowers at Jungkook. “Shut up.”

“I’m here to bring you both upstairs for a quick last minute gathering. The others are waiting,” Jimin announces.

“Great.” Taehyung springs up and strides toward the opened entrance doors. Jimin and Jungkook trail behind him. “I need space.”

A few minutes later, the three of them enter a more secluded room that Dahee, Junhyun and Namjoon are already occupying, the three of them happily conversing.

Taehyung hasn’t spoken to the page much — if at all, really, aside from a one-sided curt greeting. 

Jungkook and Jimin join the group. 

The tightness in Taehyung's chest alleviates now that he’s near his family and away from the brouhaha still rumbling downstairs. Before he gets to take a single step, the door opens. He turns around.

A man stands at the doorway, smaller than Taehyung by a head or so, his black hair of a medium length waving down his forehead and neck. His eyes are sharp and cat-like as they snap on Taehyung’s. The stranger's face immediately knits, and Taehyung — albeit confused — immediately mirrors the scorn with his own.

A figure rushes past Taehyung who embraces the man.

“Feels like it’s been years,” Jungkook says.

The man smiles, his arms enveloping Jungkook. “Hey.”

Jungkook breaks the hug, his grin taking over his face. “I have to present you to everyone,” he starts and does exactly that, soon reaching Taehyung. “Last but not least, this is Taehyung, my—”

“Betrothed who doesn’t know what privacy is,” the stranger interjects.

Ah.

So that's who it is. 

“This is how it’s gonna be?” Taehyung chuckles through a snarky smile. He extends an arm, because he’s polite like that. Yoongi imitates him, the two of them shaking hands with perhaps a tad more force than necessary from both parties.

“I’m Min Yoongi," the man presents himself. “Jungkook’s friend and occasional guard when needed.”

“Kim Taehyung, Vanae’s future leader and occasional hunter of all things.”

“A hunter, you say."

“Yeah.” Taehyung isn’t letting go of Yoongi’s hand and neither is the warlock. The hand shaking continues, soon growing into a bruising grip. “Of bears, griffins and other creatures. Including humans.”

“Not warlocks?” Yoongi says with an air of surprise. “Are we perhaps too difficult for you to chase?”

“Considering how disloyal and cowardly most warlocks are, it makes it quite tedious to track d—”

A hand breaks Taehyung and Yoongi apart. “Are you two done,” Jungkook snips with a glare that bounces off Taehyung.

Jungkook is aiming a pointed, chastising look at Yoongi. 

Not Taehyung.  

It prompts a satisfied, snobbish curl on Taehyung’s lips.

Jungkook raises an index that he digs on Taehyung’s chest then on Yoongi’s as he speaks. “You two better behave nicely at my wedding that I want to spend in a cordial and happy mood.”

Taehyung and Yoongi huff at the same time. Taehyung clicks his tongue.

“Oh this will be a promising night,” Dahee laughs somewhere at the back of the room, installed on one of Junhyun’s legs as she often is.

Taehyung is shoved to the side by Jimin. He glances at his friend. His eyes narrow the longer he surveys him. Jimin has this look in his eyes, one that Taehyung has met many times in the past and that never bodes to anything good.

“Hi!” Jimin grins and shakes hands with Yoongi who seems to tense even more. “I’m Jimin, Taehyung’s big brother. He’s the evil one and I’m the angel one. It’s a pleasure to—”

“For the last fucking time, stop—”

“You’re Jungkook’s warlock friend, right?” Jimin carries on and interrupts Taehyung.

Yoongi nods and releases Jimin’s hand. Jimin hums, his smile everlasting as he tilts his head to the side and leans closer to Yoongi. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes. 

Jimin isn’t even subtle when he does a slow, calculated once over of the obnoxious warlock who’s clad in a dark purple suit, a black cloak draped on his shoulders. A ridiculous outfit, if one were to ask Taehyung.

Jimin’s head twists to peer at Taehyung. “I never knew warlocks could be this pretty.”

A silence stretches in the room disrupted by Junhyun’s booming laughter, his hilarity echoed by Dahee and Namjoon. Jungkook is snickering in his hand while Taehyung is positively gawking at his best friend, his confidant, his brother , who dares betray Taehyung in such revolting manners.  

So when Taehyung snarls — squeaks — Jimin’s name, the word ends in a strangled, high intonation.

“I’m just saying,” Jimin shrugs.

“Hey, Yoon.” Jungkook pokes Yoongi’s bicep. “Yoon, am I dreaming or you’re blushing?”

“He’s definitely blushing,” Namjoon adds. “Oh my God.”

Yoongi’s scowl deepens but it’s mellowed by the equally angry rose that tinges the apple of his cheeks and tip of his ears. “I’m not blushing.”

Yoongi bickers with Jungkook and Namjoon, and Taehyung uses this moment of distraction to whisper in Jimin’s ear.

“Are you out of your mind?” Taehyung hisses. “Don’t fraternize with the enemy.”

“He’s your enemy, not mine,” Jimin retorts with a quiet voice, then he continues loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room. “Plus, fighting with someone so beautiful would be such a pity, don’t you think? A bonus point is that he seems to dislike you, which is a sentiment I share more often than not, and wouldn’t it be a great subject for him and I to bond over?”

Jungkook bursts into laughter, leaning onto Namjoon for support. “Jimin, you’re gonna kill him."

When Taehyung glances at the warlock, the man doesn’t seem to be breathing: immobile and staring at Jimin with something akin to ashamed horror.

“I…” Yoongi starts but trails off.

Jimin, of course, does not miss the occasion to entirely rivet his attention on Yoongi. “You?”

“As entertaining as it is,” Dahee begins and stands, “we must prepare for the wedding. Everyone has their garments in this room, while Taehyung and Jungkook will get ready on the third floor in your respective changing rooms.”

“Oh yes, we should go.” Jungkook meets Taehyung’s gaze. “We’ll meet at the back of the castle? We’re supposed to leave together in our carriage.”

“Yeah.” Without any further ado, Taehyung snatches Jimin by the arm. “You’re coming with me.” He nods at his mother when she tells him where to find his room. Once out of earshot, Taehyung lets go of Jimin and says “I can’t believe you.”

“What? He’s a hundred percent my type. Nay, make it three hundred percent."

“Don’t make the Prince’s friend your new fling,” Taehyung warns. Jimin groans. “Jimin. I mean it. Don’t. It’s the last thing this arrangement needs.” Taehyung highly doubts Jungkook will take it nicely if Jimin is to have his ‘fun’ with Yoongi, and Taehyung would rather avoid this kind of unnecessary drama in his life.

“I won’t, I won’t, don’t worry. He glanced at me several times, so I wanted to tease him a bit. Seems like I’m also his type."

“That’s great but let’s keep it… professional.”

“‘Professional.’”

“You know what I mean. Don’t fuck around with the warlock.”

“Yes, yes,” Jimin dismisses with a wave of his hand before hooking it around Taehyung's arm. “What about you, though? You and Jungkook are on better terms, right? It seems a lot less tense than before.”

Taehyung had told his parents and Jimin about Jungkook. Nothing specific, and he had not mentioned anything regarding Jungkook's necromancy, but Taehyung had alleviated his family's concern. So while the overall ambiance has fallen back into its previous ease, Taehyung wouldn’t describe his and Jungkook’s relationship as one being in ‘better terms’.

“It’s how it was before the ring mess,” Taehyung discards.

“I’m so curious about what you found out.”

Taehyung doesn't provide more as they reach the empty changing room. 

He heaves a deep sigh and sits on a loveseat.

“You’re feeling okay?” Jimin worries and plops down next to him.

“It hasn’t really sunk in that I’m about to be married to the Jeon dynasty Prince.” Not much has been processed by Taehyung’s mind for the past month, quite frankly. Taehyung has been going with the erratic flow that appears to become more and more untamed as the days go by.

“It’s a bit too late to backtrack now.”

“I know. I never said I will.” At least not recently.

Jimin’s hand cradles Taehyung’s as the two tighten their clasp. “I know it’s been a lot lately, but the worst part is tonight, and then everything will be more peaceful.”

Only Taehyung and his mother know that the worst has yet to come, but he nods anyway. “I’m not looking forward to being surrounded by humans.”

“If it gets too much, you tell me and I’ll create a distraction so you can dip out. It’ll be fine.” Jimin releases Taehyung’s hand to pat his thigh. “You’re not the only dragonborn. There are dozens of us, and most importantly, I am here, so if anyone tries anything fishy, I’ll burn them without blinking. Except the pretty warlock.”

Taehyung snorts, the knot in his chest loosening. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Not as much as you,” Jimin jests and Taehyung pinches his leg. “Now, chop chop. Your Prince is awaiting you.”

For his first apparel of the night, Taehyung has decided to wear a fully black outfit. First is a turtleneck in a sateen fabric that slides against his skin when he puts it on, and where it is loose at the waist, it tightens around his chest and shoulder.  Second is the pair of trousers, the pants made of different layers of sateen and thin leather, surprisingly comfortable to wear due to Seokjin’s adjustments.

Jimin helps Taehyung style his hair that he slicks back, aside from the couple of strands that Jimin sculpts and adjusts on Taehyung’s forehead. 

“You look really good. I like this touch.” Jimin fiddles with the short scarf fastened around Taehyung’s neck. It's topped with a golden necklace holding a diamond at the center of its bone-like shape.

A few more minutes go by.

Taehyung is folding the clothes he came in with when a sudden realization stops him in his tracks. He gasps and swivels around. “By the Elders.”

“What is it?”

“I’m gonna have to kiss the Prince.”

Jimin silently stares at Taehyung. “And?”

Taehyung marches toward Jimin to grip onto the lapels of his vest. “You’re experienced in this field. Teach me how to kiss. I’m not about to embarrass myself because I don’t know how to kiss.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to kiss, Jimin,” Taehyung exclaims. “And I’m supposed to do that in front of thousands of people!”

Jimin wrenches himself free from Taehyung’s clamp. “I’m not teaching you. That’s disgusting.”

“I don’t mean a mouth to mouth demonstration. Are you insane?”

“Have you really never kissed anyone?”

“Yes, I haven’t.” Taehyung has never been in a relationship before to begin with, let alone kissed anyone.

“But there was a rumor that you kissed Woobin though."

“Hah?! I’d rather kiss Jungkook or a pile of shit than Woobin! Woobin?!” Taehyung makes a gagging noise.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You’ll be fine. You know how to peck and that’s all you’ve gotta do: peck Jungkook, not make out with him. No one wants to see that.”

“Peck as in—” Taehyung grabs Jimin’s cheek to smash his lips against one of them. “Like that?”

“No. Put more sentiment in it, by the Elders. You’re not kissing Minsoo. You peck Jungkook but, like, it still has to be a kiss.”

“You make no goddamn sense.”

“I’ll show you.”

Jimin rummages around the room to find a piece of parchment that he balances on the edge of a table. He rests a candle on it to keep it in place as half of the paper sticks out. Then, he clasps his palm shut that he turns, forming some sort of duck’s beak. “Imagine that my hands are your lips, and that the paper is one of Jungkook’s lips. You do it like that.”

‘Like that’ is Jimin parting the tip of his fingers to close them around the paper, a solemn look on his face.

Taehyung pensively studies the motion, an arm crossed over his chest and a hand holding his chin. “I bite him?”

“You fucking dimwit.”

“I don’t get it.”

“With your lips, not your damn teeth.” Jimin reiterates the gesture. “You do that. You pinch Jungkook’s upper or lower lip. But don’t go too low or you’ll kiss his chin, and don’t go too high or you’ll be making out with his nostrils and let me tell you that this is an experience I don’t wish on anyone.”

“I pinch his lip?” Taehyung mutters to himself and he purses then sucks in his lips, trying to imitate what Jimin’s hands are doing.

“May the Elders give Jungkook the strength and patience. He’s utterly doomed with you.”

“I don’t get it,” Taehyung mumbles and walks closer to Jimin. “Help me.”

“I am helping you! You do that! Like that!”

“What do you mean by ‘that’?!” Taehyung slaps his hand together, the same way Jimin is on the paper. “That doesn’t mean jackshit!"

“I told you to pretend my hands are your lips and the paper is Jungkook’s! It’s not that difficult, you stupid ass!”

“You’re the stupid ass with your stupid paper! Teach me how to fucking kiss!”

They’ve reached a point where they’re both yelling and clapping at each other, and this is how Dahee finds them when she enters the room. 

Taehyung and Jimin both freeze in place in front of the paper, their beak-like hands pointed at each other.

Dahee arches a brow. “Do I want to know?”

“Taehyung is an idiot.” Jimin yanks the paper to crumple it into a ball that he throws at Taehyung’s head.

“He’s being an idiot regarding…?” Dahee asks and closes the door.

“First of all, you could have denied, Mom. Second of all, I don’t know how to kiss,” Taehyung mutters.

Dahee chuckles, prompting a scowl on Taehyung. She walks up to him and assesses his attire while readjusting the collar of his turtleneck. “It’ll naturally come to you, do not fret, Son. You only have to kiss him once at the ceremony.”

Taehyung deflates. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Jungkook is ready. Your father and I will leave with Jimin in a second carriage after the Queen and King,” Dahee explains. She cradles Taehyung’s face to have him lean forward and pecks his forehead. “Everything will be fine, my son. Let us hurry.” She strides toward Jimin and leads him outside the room, Taehyung following suit.

Aside from Yoongi and Namjoon; Junhyun, Jungkook and his parents are awaiting Taehyung.

As Jungkook had said, his and Taehyung’s apparels match while contrasting. Where Taehyung is fully dressed in black, Jungkook is bearing a white, four piece suit accentuated by golden touches similar to Taehyung’s, like the buttons of the vest or the jewelry adorning the Prince’s neck and ears. 

Jungkook takes in Taehyung's appearance as much as Taehyung does. “You look good.”

Taehyung hums, a sound that is a half dismissal, half a ‘Thank you’.

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” the Queen starts, "you must make your departure now. Your carriage awaits you, and so do our people.”

The Queen continues to give directions, whether it being to Taehyung’s family or the helpers. Jungkook watches her with a contempt that he seemingly does not try to hide — or one that Taehyung easily reads, somehow. 

Taehyung and Jungkook soon find themselves alone in their carriage, facing one another, and it’s only then that Taehyung speaks up. “What is it?”

Jungkook’s gaze shifts on Taehyung from where it had been drifting outside the window. “Hm?”

“The Queen said something?”

Jungkook chuckles, bitter, muffled by the carriage's wheels and galloping of the horses. “She said many, many things.”

“Like?” Taehyung probes. The annoyance wavers, not directed at Jungkook for once.

“ ‘You must nurture this arrangement, Jungkook. Do not disappoint me or your father again’ ,” Jungkook quotes and his voice takes a higher and more clipped tone in a perfect rendition of the Queen. “ ‘If the Kim son is to be displeased by your behavior, we will consort with Seungwon once more’ . She said, among other things of the same waver.”

“Ah, yes. Threats: a wonderful wedding gift."

“I wouldn’t expect any less from her.”

“What about your father?”

“He warned me of the same thing, but less tactfully. Let’s just say that if something is to happen to our marriage, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll become a renegade prince who will then try to overthrow Amaris' rulers.”

Taehyung thinks back on the request Jungkook had made some time ago. “I guess we’ll have to give her a believable enough show to shut her mouth for good.” He's peering out the window but he can feel Jungkook’s gaze on him.

“Thank you…” 

Jungkook still sounds sullen, and it bothers Taehyung for some reasons. So Taehyung summons his lightning to shoot a zap on Jungkook’s chest. 

Jungkook jolts with a yelp. “Ow! That hurts!”

“No, it doesn't."

“I said ‘ow’,” Jungkook repeats with a jut of his chin.

“Stop being so moody. I’m supposed to be the sour one, not you.”

Jungkook snorts. His smile looks more genuine this time. "I almost forgot my role, apologies.” He tugs the small windows’ curtains shut and says “Want to come out?” 

The basilisk materializes outside of the necklace and on Jungkook’s shoulders. The snake sniffs the air, her tongue darting out. She glances at Taehyung then at Jungkook and she bumps her snout against Jungkook’s nose, Jungkook nuzzling her head back.

Taehyung slumps down in his seat and he closes his eyes, hoping to catch some rest.

“…yung… Hyung… Taehyung.”

Taehyung jolts awake, disoriented when met with Jungkook’s face and a hand shaking his knee.

“We almost arrived. Our parents already made their entrance through the avenue and are seated on the balcony. We’re next in a few minutes.”

Taehyung curses as he straightens up. He works the kinks out of his body and stretches his arms above his head with a yawn. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You probably needed it.”

Taehyung hums. He rubs at his eyes and readjusts his clothes. He pats his cheeks and shakes his head but when it doesn’t suffice to fend off the remnants of somnolence, he zaps himself awake.

“Ready?” Jungkook wonders after a brief moment, the basilisk gone. Taehyung nods. “I’ll open the curtains so we can wave at our people.”

Taehyung bristles at the ‘our’.

“Yeah.” He slides open the curtains of the left windows while Jungkook does the same with the right ones.

The avenue is large and paved in smoothed stones, raised sittings along with rows of candelabra lining up the road and leading to the outdoor amphitheater where the spectacle will unfold.

The screams blare through Taehyung’s ears, the exclamations elated and jumbled together.

Many yell Jungkook’s name as the latter leans out the window to wave at the cheering people. Some congratulate them for the wedding, and, to Taehyung’s shock, a few shout Taehyung’s name with nothing that resembles scorn. 

Taehyung glances out the window and he sees some dragonborns amidst the sea of humans, noticeable with their horns or wings out. One even throws a fireball in the sky that shifts into the shape of a heart.

Taehyung huffs, amused, while Jungkook emits a small chuckle.

After some self encouragement in the form of another zap, Taehyung shuffles forward so the two of them are leaning outside and greeting the masses. Taehyung does his best to put up a good front; his smile may be small but it’s present, an occurrence he deems as more than enough. At least no one can see the tremors in his hands from where they’re entangled between his knees.

Jungkook shouts back some 'Thank you!’ and ‘Thank you for joining us tonight!’ , each one punctuated by a dip of his head. His eyes are bright, and he must recognize some people in the crowd because he responds with some names back accompanied with ‘Take care!’ or an ‘I’ll visit soon again!’

It takes a while to drive down the avenue.

Once they reach the wide plaza, Taehyung can see the building facing them that Jungkook clarifies as being some kind of second citadel, this one however opened to the public at all times. An imperial staircase branches in two, joining at the middle to where the balcony is, all made of light gray stones similar to the rest of the avenue.

Seohyung, Sungmin, Jimin and Taehyung’s parents are all settled on the platform. 

They stand at Taehyung and Jungkook’s arrival. The carriage comes to a halt at the coachman’s command. A servant clad in a black suit opens the door for them.

Taehyung does not waste a second to climb out, and he immediately senses the watchful gaze Seohyung levels them with. So Taehyung begins the act. He opens the door wider for Jungkook, and with a small bow, he presents his hand to the Prince who takes it with an amused smile, but the gratefulness in his gaze isn't lost on Taehyung.

Taehyung and Jungkook walk toward the stairs while the carriage disappears in a secluded path adjacent to the citadel.

The first conundrum of the day manifests itself: Taehyung doesn’t know how to hold Jungkook. 

Should Jungkook be the one holding him to begin with? And if yes, should Taehyung present his elbow to Jungkook? Or maybe his hand? Or perhaps he could simply—

A hand curls around Taehyung’s bicep while a shoulder bumps into his. “Is this okay?” Jungkook whispers before creating a tad more distance between them.

“Yeah."

They reach the top of the perron where an elevated stone podium awaits them, along with two chairs that look more like ostentatious thrones with their golden armatures and black leather cushions, elevated higher than the rest of their family's seats. Taehyung sits down, Jungkook on his right.

Dozens of thousands of people populate the amphitheater and raised sittings of the avenue. Everything is grandiose: the balcony Taehyung and Jungkook are in, the orchestra below them lining the amphitheater’s sides, or the citadel behind them. It’s intimidating, and no matter how open the place is with the sky above his head, it still feels suffocating.

Taehyung’s hands are wrenched around the armrests of his throne. His heart speeds up and he knows it’s foolish to think so now — so belatedly —, however he can’t help but wonder if it is all a trap.

He’s outnumbered. His family is. And so are the other dragonborns who have flown to Amaris for the ceremony. They could effortlessly kill the humans crowding the area if they were to shift into their dragon counterpart, but it could become an impossible goal to achieve if warlocks intervene, or if humans use the appropriate weaponry to subdue a dragon. 

Taehyung’s throat clicks when he swallows. Perspiration blooms on his nape, and the cold sweat that creeps up his back elicits a shiver that he thankfully manages to repress.

Something nudges his temple, as though a solid ball of air has bumped against him. When he peers at where it has come from, he sees the smile on his father’s lips. Dahee is smiling as well, mouthing a ‘You’re safe’ at him while Jimin surveys him with a worried look.

A loud blast startles him before he can utter a single word. Taehyung’s eyes dart around to find the source of the noise. Lost in his own spiraling thoughts, he had not noticed the additional carriages that had parked.

A melodious tune begins to play, the notes slow and drawn out. It gains in speed before decelerating, however always graceful and mystical.

Taehyung feels a hand on his wrist. 

Jungkook’s.

“Look up,” Jungkook instructs.

Taehyung does.

There are five dragons in the sky forming a circle and hovering in place, but it isn’t what prompts Taehyung’s mouth to open around a noise of surprise.

It’s the ribbons elegantly fastened around the dragons’ back talons: red and spiraling down and down in an intricate crisscross. They seem endless until Taehyung’s eyes drop on the person dangling at the bottom of each ribbon, suspended in the air and yards away from the ground. A total of ten humans are held by the dragons, all drawing graceful aerial acrobatics.

The night sky is darkening by now, dusted with muted purple and orange hues. It mingles so beautifully with the dancers dressed in a white garments, but also with the candelabras that illuminate the public circle where other dancers are performing, casting golden tinges on their clothes. 

The acrobats twist and turn, coiled around the ribbons at a high point only to tumble down. Taehyung straightens up when he thinks they will fall and crash on the ground, however they catch themselves just in time; each wrap of the ribbon around a leg or an arm is purposefully made.

A group of over a dozen men and women come out from the archway where the carriages are hidden. They skip to the center of the place, right at the core of the aerial dancers and dragons. They begin to perform as well, the ballet dancers shifting on their toes and coiling silky bands around them that seem alive, with a will of their own.

The aerial acrobats join the dancers on the ground at some point, starting a new dance together. The dragons fly in a circle above them, the dangling ribbons on their talons encasing them in an ever moving column of red threads.

It’s breathtaking.

Taehyung doesn’t know for how long he admires the spectacle, enraptured in the undulating ribbons and pirouettes.

The dancers form a circle as they come to a standstill, the dichotomy of red and white constant and harmonious. The ribbons are all joined at the middle, them and the dancers creating some kind of flower.

A croak erupts from above. When Taehyung looks up, he notices a raven flying closer to them. It looks strange, the shapes and edges akin to—

“Oh,” Jungkook exhales.

Taehyung realizes two matters at once: 1) the raven is made of ink, 2) Jungkook is still holding onto his wrist, the golden jewelry adorning Jungkook’s fingers cold against Taehyung’s skin, but Taehyung is too absorbed by the spectacle to snatch his hand away from Jungkook’s.

The raven dives toward where the ribbons are joined and bursts outward in a splatter. The ink spreads across the ribbons, then the dancers’ garments, dyeing the red and white in jet black. 

Seconds later, small wings peek from the dancers’ shoulder blades, turning into ravens that fly off. Soon, the ink birds all merge into one, growing into a large raven that could rival the size of a dragon.

Jungkook murmurs an ‘Oh my God’ while Taehyung blurts a ‘By the Elders’ .

The grand raven’s wings are dripping with ink as it drifts toward the balcony and pauses in front of Taehyung and Jungkook. It looks at them, Taehyung first, then Jungkook. Jungkook’s hand leaves Taehyung’s wrist to inch near the raven’s beak. The jewelry gleam under the moon and candles’ light when Jungkook caresses the raven’s beak, and the bird suddenly erupts back into the dozens of smaller ravens.

The music slows down, only the violins and piano embellishing the silence.

The dancers all form a line and face the balcony. They kneel on one knee, each receiving a raven that lands on their hand. The birds of ink lose their shape as they melt, the ink sliding down the dancers' forearms in a makeshift glove.

Then, they slam their inked palm on the ground. The ink explodes and slowly begins to shape into an elongated , slithering band, round at one end. 

Jungkook emits a pleased chuckle next to Taehyung, a misty mirth swimming in his eyes when Taehyung glances at him. Jungkook clutches his necklace that fluctuates with black hues.

Darkness and silence suddenly fills the place, the candles snuffed out and dancers gone.

A boom breaks through the quietude, one of a dragon, that commands everyone’s attention on the night sky peppered with stars, but most importantly dragons.

Akin to how the spectacle had started, the dragons dance and fly with one another. Most are quiet, but a few sing, their voices carrying across the amphitheater and land as a whole.

Goosebumps flare on Taehyung’s arms, and the pride he experiences squeezes at his throat as he witnesses the beauty of dragonkind, the sheer power that exudes from every bat of wing or twist of a horned head.

Two dragons begin to fly down the avenue. One of them breathes a gust of leaves that coalesces with the cone of fire the second dragon releases. The leaves burn and fall from the sky in shimmering embers, like a rain of harmless fire drops. Before they can harm any of the spectators, the leaves are swept away by the wind a third dragon breathes.

Taehyung observes Amaris' people. 

Rather than fear, an unadulterated awe paints their faces as their hands extend toward the sky to fruitlessly try to catch some of the burnt leaves, shielded by the wind dragonborn.  

The song continues, powerful yet delicate.

Taehyung peers at Jungkook again, compelled to do so for reasons he cannot comprehend.

Tears are trickling down Jungkook's cheeks, clinging onto his chin before falling, moved in ways Taehyung relates too as his own eyes prickle.

Lanterns and lotuses of ink now litter the ground.

Taehyung frowns to himself. He does not recall anything about this.

The dancers are gone, replaced instead by two dozen of humans — archers — and another of dragonborns, all dressed in white, the dragonborns recognizable by the dragon scales shoulderplates they're wearing. 

Yoongi stands at the circle they form around him. 

Then, and following the series of elegant waves of his hands, the lanterns and lotuses lift in the air.

The archers aim their bows at them while the dragonborns curl a hand in front of their mouths. The humans draw their bows and they let go, the arrows shooting toward the ink lanterns and lotuses. They’re intercepted half way through by the small fireballs the dragonborns direct at them, lighting the tip of the arrows that bores inside the lanterns and at the core of the lotuses.

The lanterns and lotuses lighten, now floating in the sky in an array of orange, red and white from the different types of fires the dragonborns have used.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jungkook murmurs.

Taehyung does not even try to deny it. “It is.”

Some of the lanterns and lotuses dotting the sky follow the same patterns the ravens had as they melt together in a wavering black sphere. The archers aim their bows at it and this time, when the fire arrows lodge inside it, it explodes into a firework of symmetrical shapes that grow less and less sharp as the seconds elapse.

They draw something, Taehyung notices: the head of a dragon, then the rest of the body with the wings and spiky tail, the black of the ink lightened by the dragonborns' fires coalescing with it. Another figure appears in the sky, this time of a human looking up at the dragon and holding a lotus in their raised hand.

A movement catches Taehyung’s attention on his right.

Jungkook stands and walks to the balcony’s railing, which is odd in itself amidst the spectacle. Neither he or Taehyung are supposed to be part of this spectacle. An ebony arrow and bow dangle from Jungkook's hand, the wood engraved with golden lining at the middle and on the ends. 

Jungkook takes the arrow and slots it against the bow. He turns sideways, directing the bow high up. 

He draws the string, waits for a few seconds, then he shoots.

The arrow neatly drives in the sky. It effortlessly pierces through the ink hand of the human shape and the lotus that bursts into flames and ink in a last, ending firework.

The people somehow realize before Taehyung that the show has come to an end because they break into cheers and clapping as they spring on their feet. Dahee, Junhyun and Sungmin do so as well, aside from the Queen who belatedly joins the celebration, her glare born into the back of Jungkook’s head. 

Taehyung straightens up, distractedly applauding. Jungkook bows to the archers, dancers and dragonborns filling the plaza before making his way back to his seat and leaving his bow to a servant.

“You weren’t supposed to do that, were you?” Taehyung asks when Jungkook is near him, his voice drowned by the endless clapping and cheers.

“Nope,” Jungkook answers, his gaze mischievous.

Taehyung can't repress his chuckle this time.

Bells ring after a while, announcing the performers who greet the people at the amphitheater and in the raised sitting. Taehyung and Jungkook, along with their parents, take this opportunity to walk down the podium's stairs and disappear in the path where their carriages await them.

The Queen does not wait to be out of earshot from any passerby to rush toward Jungkook and snare his arm. “Why have you changed the ending of the spectacle? We had agreed on something else entirely.”

“Because the lotus being on the dragon’s forehead and a human archer aiming at it could have sent the wrong message to Vanae’s people,” Jungkook retorts, staring down at the Queen.

“You were not supposed to be drawing the arrow either. Yoongi was.”

“Change of heart."

“You—”

“It is done now. There is no point in discussing this any further,” Sungmin intervenes with a hand on Seohyung’s back. Seohyung shrugs him off and strides toward her carriage. “Careful, Jungkook. Do not forget your place as Amaris’ Prince.”

A saccharine smile curls Jungkook’s lips. “Of course.”

Seohyung and Sungmin leave.

A silence lulls, one that Junhyun, as he often does, disrupts. “Well, if anything, us and the rest of dragonkind have definitely appreciated the change."

“I found it more befitting to pierce the once betraying hand,” Jungkook admits.

Dahee approves with a bob of her head and a gentle hold of Jungkook's arm. “Let us make our departure as well.”

“Come on,” Taehyung says to Jungkook with a nod toward their carriage. Instead of climbing into it, he opens the door to let Jungkook get in before him.

“Oh my,” Jungkook gasps with a hand on his chest, “what a gentleman.”

“This gentleman will smack the door on your ass if you don’t hurry it up.” Taehyung catches the way their coachman looks taken aback by his retort. Jungkook laughs and climbs in the carriage, Taehyung next.

Taehyung doesn’t mean to stare at Jungkook, but he does so with a muted shock. 

Taehyung had known how involved Jungkook had been with the wedding, particularly with the spectacle, made evident with Jungkook’s absence from the house, and with the few times Taehyung had seen him plan out the ceremony on the coffee table. However Taehyung had never even imagined that Jungkook would make such an effort to include dragonborns with so much care and respect. 

“The actual ceremony is next. It shouldn’t take too long,” Jungkook says, tearing Taehyung away from his meandering thoughts. “As for the feast and after-party, what I said before still stands,” he carries on, his gaze finding Taehyung’s. “If there’s a human you don’t like there, you can tell me, and I’ll have them be escorted out.”

Taehyung peers at the night sky, only noting then that the spectacle has lasted for nearly an hour. “I haven’t seen Seungwon in the crowd.”

“Me either,” Jungkook sighs. “Seohyung held onto her words.”

“Let’s hope it lasts.”

The remainder of the ride is quiet, saved for the instances where Jungkook converses with the basilisk.

They reach an area not too far from the castle half an hour or so later. The carriage stops. Taehyung and Jungkook descend.

A large white tent blocks the view.

The dressing affair is prompt, but it takes an hour for the people to move location and settle down where the vows will be given. Taehyung and Jungkook are preparing themselves in separate areas of the tent, Jungkook aided by an armada of maids, while Taehyung has chosen to be on his own, refusing anyone’s help.

Taehyung changes into his second apparel of the night: a black shirt, trousers and shiny leather vest adorning him, all quite tight fitting to accommodate the intricate, thin golden armor he slides on and readjusts on the shoulders. While his garment may be considered as distasteful by humans, wearing armor has always been an important tradition of a dragonborn's marriage.

The headpiece is next, handmade by Jimin, and it is absolutely gorgeous. Taehyung admires it from every angle, reminding himself to send some extra coin to Jimin, before attaching it on his head. a jewelry that hangs over his forehead, the chain starting from the middle and branching out to the temples. A replica of the upper part of a dragon's skull serves as a makeshift crown, framed by ebony half circles, golden buttons and two black horns.

Taehyung could have summoned his own horns, but the sole idea of having out one of his dragon’s traits had agitated him.

Once satisfied with his appearance, and after grabbing Jungkook’s gifts, Taehyung makes his way through a corridor leading to a smaller tent.

“Taehyung, by the Elders,” Junhyun widely smiles. He pulls Taehyung into a tight embrace that he breaks moments later. “You look stunning, my son. Jimin has done astounding work.”

Taehyung smiles at the remark. “He has. Everything is so lovely.”

“Sir, the guests and people are seated,” a maid says as she enters the tent. “The ceremony may begin.”

Taehyung heavily sighs. 

Without much thinking, he marches toward the two white curtains concealing him. 

The silence is unnerving considering the amount of people most likely surrounding the venue and crowding the garden around it.

The human maid and a dragonborn man both stand in front of the curtains, a hand holding onto the hem. When Taehyung nods, they part the curtain open, and the orchestra begins to play.

Taehyung is greeted by the well trimmed grass and the rows of metal benches and green cushions. A metal armature is hoisted above his head, acting as an open roof displaying the night sky, vines and white flowers curling around the curved metal bands, as well as a large tree behind the altar. Lanterns dangle everywhere, lighting up the area and the 300 guests seated in front of the altar, along with the raised sittings framing occupied by most of Amaris' people.

Some dragons hover in the sky, and Taehyung's anxiousness mellows down a little at the sight.

Junhyun presents his elbow to Taehyung. Taehyung grips onto his father’s arm, the two of them walking down the aisle. Taehyung smiles when he passes by his mother and Jimin — his grandfather Minsoo is absent, as he had anticipated. 

With one last squeeze on his father’s arm, he lets go to poise himself at the center of a perfectly drawn circle.

Taehyung shuffles to have the aisle before him, hands folded around Jungkook’s gifts behind his back.

The curtains fall shut.

He can hear the faint buzz of curiosity that elevates in the venue as the humans take in his apparel that must be eons away from human wedding garments.

Taehyung counts in his head while he waits.

His gaze is fixed where Jungkook will appear in a few seconds, refusing to look away as to not encourage himself in his urge to escape the ceremony and marriage as a whole. His palms clam up and he blames his nervousness on being surrounded by humans, rather than on an anticipation that has not its place to be when Taehyung has no care for this union.

Yet, as the curtains are pulled open, Taehyung holds his breath.

While the reactions at Taehyung’s appearance had been tamed, those at Jungkook’s are less restrained. Gasps erupt here and there, a rush of whispers courses through the crowd, echoed by some dragons' rumbling. Taehyung can relate to the shock that colors the people’s faces, whether it being humans or dragonborns; commoners or influential families.

The very few who don’t seem bewildered are Dahee and Jimin who stand as well, watching Amaris’ heir to the throne make his way up the aisle.

Unlike Taehyung’s apparel that is more of a second protective skin, what Jungkook has put on resembles a long, heavy looking winter cloak with layers upon layers of fabric trailing behind him. He’s wearing a vest that is tight fitting on the chest but parts open past the hip on a pair of black trousers. Where Taehyung’s garment is of black and gold, Jungkook’s is of black and silver, the cloak adorned with embroideries in the shape of feathers

Taehyung’s gaze darts on Jungkook’s face, and he can’t hide his own surprise.

The headpiece is a dragonborn tradition, one that Taehyung had not expected to be respected, let alone followed.

Taehyung exhales when he surveys the edges of the headpiece Jungkook is wearing, a perfect copy of Taehyung’s, only differing when it comes to the colors: of black and red, with touches of silver.

By the ire that twists Seohyung and Sungmin's faces, Taehyung guesses that the headpiece is another one of those secrets Jungkook had kept away from his parents.

Taehyung’s mouth clicks shut. He's been gawking at the regal Prince for far too long, enough for him to startle when Jungkook reaches the altar and halts in front of him. 

With a tentative gaze, Taehyung traces the soft curve of Jungkook's nose, of his cheeks that every so slightly bunches up around a smile. Then Taehyung paused at sharp edges of Jungkook's eyes, ornated by the white lines, curls and a series of thinning dots on the lower lid. He smells like flowers too, dampened by this grim aspect that Taehyung only comprehends now to be due to his necromancy.

However, there’s a distracting, uncommon hint that floats in the air.

A tinge of strawberry.

Taehyung’s eyes dart on Jungkook’s lips. They’re pink, as usual — not that Taehyung has been watching them enough to know what they commonly look like —, but he is aware that they usually don’t have a faint shine on them. 

Jungkook’s lips pinch to visibly bite back a smile. 

Taehyung’s eyes narrow as they lock with Jungkook’s playful ones, and realization hits him: Jungkook has put on some damn strawberry flavored lip balm.

“Fucking brat,” Taehyung whispers.

Jungkook lifts a hand to cover his mouth as his shoulders shake around a quiet laugh.

Taehyung’s attention is diverted from Jungkook’s impudence by the arrival of the wedding officiant. 

He shouldn’t gape like a fucking idiot at the familiar face, but when he recognizes who the older woman is, Taehyung’s brows fly up his forehead.

The woman’s hair is gray and long, knitted into a braid peppered with golden jewelry. She's wearing a kind smile as she pauses next to Taehyung and Jungkook. The woman arches a brow at Taehyung who promptly schools his expression.

One of the Elders is officiating his wedding which is both astonishing and alarming.

When the Elder speaks, her voice booms through the place, effortlessly carrying over the people in the raised sitting. “Please, be seated,” she instructs, and everyone follows the demand. “People of Amaris, people of Vanae, and people from all around Aurora, welcome, and thank you for joining us on this noble day.”

Taehyung braces himself while Jungkook straightens his back. They both peer at the officiant.

“We are gathered here to celebrate the union between two families born from a sorrowful past, yet willing to put all aside in favor of consolidating the peace.”

Taehyung's teeth grit, the extent of what he allows to transpire of his feelings regarding Amaris and Vanae’s union.

“Pardon can be painless to say, however heavier to truly mean and prove,” the Elder carries on, “and this wedding is the greatest display of mutual forgiveness, both of dragonborns toward humans, and humans toward dragonborns.”

It takes all of Taehyung self-control to not bark out a derisive laugh at the last part.

He had expected for the ceremony and vows to be short and concise, as he and Jungkook had agreed upon. However a silly little speech has to be given beforehand, of course, one that places humans and dragonborns on the same level even though humans were always the one to instigate wars. 

Taehyung’s eyes fall on Jungkook, the latter unreadable.

“We all wish to prosper; live a prolific, fulfilling life. May Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook’s union of marriage provide all of that and more for Vanae and Amaris’ people.”

Quiet clapping elevates when the Elder pauses.

“Now, as per the mingle of human and dragonborns customs, we shall begin with the respective gift and pendant exchange,” the Elders smiles as she surveys Taehyung and Jungkook. “Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung, you may offer each other's present”

Jungkook rummages in an inner pocket of his cloak from which he retrieves a dark, long wooden box. Taehyung’s own gifts for the Prince sit heavy between his fingers, and when Jungkook extends the box forward, Taehyung hands the Prince his gift.

“Kim Taehyung, if you would like to open your gift first,” the Elder says when neither Taehyung nor Jungkook budge.

Taehyung unfastens the black ribbon around the wooden box and slides the lid open. A noncommittal sound catches at the back of his throat and, embarrassingly enough, it resounds through the air just like the Elder’s voice due to the arcane that helps carry their voices to everyone in the vicinity.

There’s a hunting knife laying on a dark velvet cushion. 

Taehyung takes it to twist it this and that way, contemplating the engravings on the sheath and handle that aren’t painting any particular patterns, but the designs are elegant and sharp, of blue gray with hints of gold. Taehyung unsheathes it. The blade is of a silver color, acute when Taehyung runs it along his finger and draws a drop of blood. Te doesn’t mean to be a maniacal ass at his own wedding — he does —, but he skillfully twirls the knife between his fingers to test its weight. It's comfortably balanced.

“Jimin helped me with it,” Jungkook clarifies, which explains the knife's pristine quality. “I asked him to make it light, yet sturdy enough to feel heavy and have a good grasp.”

Taehyung knows that he should thank the Prince, but he can’t bring himself to do so regardless of how pleased he is with the gift. Thankfully, and before it can grow awkward as Taehyung debates on what to say, Jungkook speaks.

“May I open mine? I’m impatient.” Jungkook's light chuckle floats in the air.

“Of course,” the Elder answers.

Jungkook unfolds the cloth wrapped around his present. It displays the book bound in leather with a sewed band at the front that serves as an ink vial and quill holder. “Oh.” He glances at Taehyung then peers at the book again. The box adjoined to it is next, holding at its center a quill made from a griffin’s feather, smaller ones framing the bottom. A white ribbon is also attached around the lower part of the quill, both to keep everything in place as well as make it more comfortable to write with.

Taehyung has made the quill himself after stumbling on the feather during a hunt. He had then bought the book and screwed in the vial holder at the front. While tinkering with feathers isn’t his forte, he’s quite content with what he has managed to create.

Jungkook looks up at Taehyung again. His eyes, so open and honest, are full of a palpable surprise echoed by an evident happiness.

Taehyung averts his gaze.

“It’s— It’s perfect… Thank you,” Jungkook whispers, his voice wavering at the end.

As per human tradition, additionally to the gift exchange, it is the best men who retrieve the gifts from the marrying couple to keep safe until the end of the ceremony, and so Yoongi and Jimin stand to take the hunting knife, book and quill.

“I’ll be careful to not spill the vial of ink on this one,” Jungkook says with a teasing smile and tilt of his head.

Taehyung’s reply is reflexive.

“Fuck off.”

Except that Taehyung had forgotten the Elder’s continuous arcane, meaning that every single person in the venue has heard Taehyung curse to Amaris’ prince at their wedding.

Chuckles and snickers erupt everywhere and when he glances at his parents, Dahee is sporting a chastising glower while Junhyun and Jimin are holding back their laughter.

Taehyung clears his throat.

“Now that Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook have exchanged their gratitude, one perhaps in a more… unexpected fashion,” Elder Miseon adds, the laughter growing louder before quietening, “you may give each other your pendant, as per dragonborn tradition.” She raises her hands, a cushion placed in each palm with a necklace resting on it.

At first, Taehyung had vociferated when his parents had mentioned this tradition, but Taehyung had known that he had to comply eventually no matter how the idea of giving a part of his dragon form to a human had outraged him. It had taken sleepless nights before he had managed to remove one of his scales to pierce the round part and slide the thin, golden chain through it.

As such, eager to expedite this part of the ceremony, Taehyung takes the pendant and fastens it around Jungkook’s neck. He scrutinizes the way his pearly, iridescent scale clashes against the black of Jungkook’s vest. Taehyung swallows the bile that rises at the back of his throat.

Jungkook doesn’t have scales, obviously, yet dangling at the bottom of the gold chain he lifts is what looks like a scale, of a deep red intersected by waves of black, like a sea of blood and ink.

Jungkook’s fingers don’t touch Taehyung’s skin when they attach the pendant. He’s quick too, closing the clasp in a matter of seconds.

To say that the necklace feels burdensome would be an understatement. Taehyung will have to get used to wearing it on a daily basis. Pendants exchanged between two dragonborns are sacred — even if it is more of a curse right now — and if Taehyung is to be seen without it by a dragonborn, most would think he and the Prince have broken off the engagement.

“Without any further ado…” The Elder gives the cushions to Jimin and Namjoon when they walk up to take them.

Jimin hands the Elder another small pillow, this one holding the rings.

This is it, Taehyung thinks as the officiant makes another speech.

He’s about to be married to a human, the Jeon dynasty’s heir and a necromancer, as if it does not suffice. Taehyung will be forever tied in a loveless marriage with the kind he hates the most. Sacrifices have to be made, after all. It isn't the first time that Taehyung has to give up something in order to become a good leader, and now his happiness and freedom is next.

At least this time it's willingly so.

The urge to run away grows. It's almost great enough to have him turn and flee, but he stands on his ground, even as his armor feels like a flimsy piece of tissue amidst the thousands of eyes riveted on him. Even as his skin crawls when he sees the scale hanging off Jungkook’s neck. Even as his gaze collides with Jungkook’s, who seems a lot more assured than Taehyung feels.

However Taehyung can help his people through this marriage, perhaps find some clues toward curing the plague, and with this thought in mind, he focuses back on the Elder’s voice.

Jungkook’s attention also appears to be drifting, however. He's staring somewhere behind Elder Miseon, at a point in the raised sitting. Taehyung glances in the same direction.

Seungwon is installed amidst one of the rows, Woobin by his side. 

Jungkook’s gaze snaps on Taehyung. The fury in them is betrayed by how the muscles of Jungkook’s jaw shift under his skin, no matter how emotionless his expression is.

“Jeon Jungkook,” the Elder begins, “do you take Kim Taehyung to be your husband? Do you promise to protect and honor him, in power and weakness, in health and sickness, in wealth and poverty, until death do you apart?”

Jungkook does not hesitate, his eyes not straying away from Taehyung’s. “I do.”

“Kim Taehyung, do you take Jeon Jungkook to be your husband? Do you promise to protect and honor him, in power and weakness, in health and sickness, in wealth and poverty, until death do you apart?”

If Taehyung wants to run away, it's now or never.

However he does not, no matter how much he desires to.

“I do."

“Jeon Jungkook, place the ring on Kim Taehyung’s hand.”

Taehyung raises his hand as Jungkook takes the ring. The jewelry has a round ruby at the top that reminds Taehyung of the basilisk’s eyes, and he wouldn't put it past Jungkook to have chosen this gem for this specific reason. 

“With this ring,” Jungkook starts and slides the golden band on Taehyung’s ring finger, “I, Jeon Jungkook, pledge all that is mine is yours, all that is yours is mine, and promise to cherish you today, tomorrow, and forevermore.”

“Kim Taehyung, place the ring on Jeon Jungkook’s hand.”

Taehyung had chosen a ring with a diamond framed by smaller round ones and black opals, the band of a white gold. He hadn’t put much thought into it, but the very few he had had led to commission a ring with both sharp and curved angles, a dichotomy that he had found befitting for the brazen prince.

Taehyung takes the ring.

He grabs a hold of Jungkook’s left hand.

His words are impassive when he utters them, his voice devoid of any sentiment. “With this ring, I, Kim Taehyung, pledge all that is mine is yours, all that is yours is mine, and promise to cherish you today, tomorrow, and forevermore.”

“By the power vested upon me,” the Elder says once Taehyung has passed the ring around Jungkook’s finger, “I now pronounce Jeon Jungkook and Kim Taehyung married.”

Jungkook is about to retract his hand, however Taehyung’s fingers tighten around him. 

Jungkook emits an inquiring sound. "What is it?"

“Wait." 

There’s another tradition between dragonborns regarding the exchange of rings, and it’s one that Taehyung will respect no matter his lack of love for the man he is marrying. 

Taehyung closes his eyes to visualize the imaginary roulette and arrow of his arcane. He only partially holds back his arcane, allowing it to run free through the area as he listens to the wind howling through the vines and metal armatures. Clothes and hair are rustled, Jungkook’s cloak undulating behind him.

Then, Taehyung selects another one of his breaths. This time, his body warms up, flames soon licking out of his mouth and retracting on his back to allow them to mingle with the wind without burning his now husband. They swirl near the ground before flickering higher and higher. 

The sky had been clear up till now, however clouds begin to loom over the guests where the warm wind meets the freezing winter air. Taehyung feeds them more heat with his wind in a continuous cycle, and when he deems the clouds dense enough, he extinguishes his fire to summon his lightning instead.

He brings Jungkook's hands higher, close to his mouth. Taehyung watches the goosebumps pebbling the skin as finger-like tendrils dance atop where Taehyung and Jungkook’s fingers meet.

Initially, Taehyung had not meant to make a show of his arcane when he had pondered on what type of breath to implement in the diamond of Jungkook’s ring, however Seungwon’s presence is still fresh in Taehyung’s mind. The pig of a dragonborn is here, watching, and Taehyung might as well send a message that even a buffoon can grasp.

Taehyung's head dips backward. He lifts a hand and forms a ring in front of his mouth to breathe out a large cone of lightning. It loudly crackles and crawls up to the sky, the tendrils wildly snapping in each and any direction and burning some of the vines before disappearing amidst the clouds.

A palpable awe subsists in Jungkook’s eyes when Taehyung glances at him. Jungkook tilts his head back to peer up, Taehyung doing the same once more.

Once the lightning has spread across the clouds, Taehyung unleashes the potency in it.

Thunder booms. Lightning flashes in the clouds. Soon enough, a drop falls. Then a second, a third, and more, and he should have probably been more mindful of the rain he’d induce on the people, but Taehyung shrugs off the belated thought. Storms have always been comforting for him, especially when he’s the eye of one.

The pitter-patter of the rain elevates in the quiet venue. The drizzle is warm, kept heated by Taehyung's fire.

Some drops land on Jungkook’s face. The water mingles with the paint of the white dot to trails down Jungkook’s cheek in a silver tear. He presents his free palm to the sky, and smiles. He begins to laugh, closing his eyes as he further tilts his head back to let the rain wash across his face. He looks happy. Free. 

A quiet rush of cheers runs through the crowd.

The scent of petrichor suffuses Taehyung’s senses, mingling with Jungkook's unmistakable scent. Taehyung’s lips part around a breath of wind that brushes atop Jungkook's knuckles. One by one, he adds several of his breaths into the gem of Jungkook's wedding ring: fire is first, then lightning that carries some of the rain in its path. The next breath is wind, withholding a piece of cloud in its midst. Lastly, he adds a fourth and last breath. 

Taehyung straightens up when he's done. He and Jungkook look down.

A miniature, tempered storm can be seen within the diamond, the minuscule clouds and lightning coiling together. The drops of rain are just as small, tiny little specks that trickle down the sides of the gem.

Taehyung shushes his lightning and arcane as a whole, the sky calming down. The falling rain grows lighter by the second, however still present.

“God…”

Taehyung meets Jungkook's gaze.

“Your arcane is the most beautiful, Taehyung.”

Taehyung does not overthink it when he cups Jungkook’s cheek and nape to cross the distance and kiss him.

Taehyung’s lips naturally close around Jungkook’s upper one as his lids fall shut. Jungkook freezes for a split second before relaxing and kissing Taehyung back, their nose bumping together.

A roar of joyful congratulations erupts in the venue, applauds following soon after.

Taehyung counts to three before parting away from Jungkook. Discomfort creeps up his skin, gnarly enough that he wishes nothing more than to shrink into himself and be as far away from Jungkook as humanly possible. Jungkook, on the other hand, appears surprised yet content, a pink tinge coloring his glistening cheeks.

When Taehyung reflexively darts his tongue over his own lower lip, the hint of strawberry is there. It tastes… pleasant, a fact he'd rather bring to his tomb than share it with the mischievous Prince. 

Dragons roar in the sky, some breathing out their fire while drawing circles over the venue. The orchestra’s slow, melodious song shifts to a merry one as the people begin to dance in the rain on their raised sittings or in the garden.

Taehyung and Jungkook both turn to face the guests in front of the altar who, for the most part, don’t appear to be thrilled about the drizzle. Taehyung nearly grins at the view but catches himself in time. Instead, he wraps an arm around his husband's waist.

His husband.

His husband who smiles and waves at everyone. His husband who wraps his fingers around Taehyung’s on his hip.

The Elder’s arcane that had amplified their voices is gone, and Jungkook must have noticed it because he says “Did it work?”

“Uh?” Taehyung can only say, dazed by the reality of his husband's existence .

Jungkook shuffles on his feet to face Taehyung. He places his hands on Taehyung’s chest, still smiling. Taehyung knows that it’s for the pretense they have to enact, but he barely manages to repress the impulsive reaction of jerking away when Jungkook’s face inches closer to his, thankfully not to kiss, but rather to speak, only for Taehyung to hear.

“The strawberry lip balm.”

Taehyung blinks confusedly. “What?”

“I knew you’d hate the kiss, but I thought it might be more bearable if it has a taste you like. Plus the look on your face when you realized where the flavor came from made it even more worth it.”

Taehyung can’t formulate a reply, both impressed and embarrassed that Jungkook would think of this. “Why would you—” His attention drifts on the still cheering people. He slaps a fabricated smile on his face before surveying Jungkook. “Why would you think of that?”

“Why not?”

Taehyung leans closer to Jungkook. His fingers sprawl on Jungkook’s lower back, pulling him closer. His next words are whispered against the Prince’s ear, ensuring no dragonborn can eavesdrop. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re married to him now,” Jungkook whispers back with a cheeky smile.

Taehyung reclines. “That retort won’t last for long if you keep using it.”

Jungkook hums, his eyes narrowing. “Threatening your husband’s life at the wedding? After barely being married for, what, five minutes? It’s distasteful, even for you.”

Taehyung begins to guide them away from the tree and near their families. "Shut up."

“Make me.”

“If you’re implying what I think you're implying, you’ve got one thing coming and I’d rather—”

“Swallow your tongue and die, yes, yes, I know the song,” Jungkook finishes.

“Damn brat,” Taehyung mutters.

“Prick,” Jungkook shoots back with a jut of his chin. He averts his gaze from Taehyung to glance at their right. “Now, let’s brace ourselves. We have a long night ahead of us."

Taehyung scrutinizes the spot Jungkook had been staring at.

Seungwon is there, striding away from the raised sitting and vanishing into the masses populating the garden.

Jungkook quickly falls back into his role as the tenseness in his muscles lessens while he hugs Namjoon. Taehyung embraces his mother, then Jimin and his father, however Taehyung cannot for the life of him shake off the restlessness that wavers within him.

It starts with his skin that pebbles. Then, the back of his neck prickles, as though a gaze is boring onto him, which is most definitely the case considering the thousands of people watching him, yet something bothers him.

He makes no mention of it, preferring to put this perhaps irrational feeling aside.

So Taehyung smiles as best he can in spite of how little he means it, and Jungkook finds his place by his side, tucked against him.

Chapter Text

“What the fuck is this?”

“Your third and last outfit of the night, why?” Dahee says.

“I was never made aware of a third outfit, and this… thing,” Taehyung grimaces, holding the offending piece of clothing away from him, “isn’t my style at all.”

“Can you please hurry and get changed already so we can eat?” Jimin groans. “I’m fucking starving.”

“Me too,” Namjoon sighs.

“Hey, what’s your friend’s favorite meal? I don’t mean Jungkook,” Jimin clarifies to Namjoon.

“Lamb skewers,” Namjoon answers. “It’s also one of Jungkook’s favorites.”

“Jimin,” Taehyung mutters in warning.

“Just inquiring about our dear new friends, nothing wrong with that,” Jimin deflects with a wave of his hand.

Taehyung’s attention reverts back to the outfit he’s supposed to be wearing for the rest of the night and ball. It’s white. Too white, a color — is it even one? — that he isn’t fond of. The worst part has to be the frills at the collar and sleeves, the dress shirt also too ample for his tastes.

“Hurry up, Son. I am famished as well,” Junhyun says.

“So am I,” Dahee nods. “Get dressed and stop whining, Taehyung.”

Taehyung wants to protest more but he's too outnumbered. He snatches the bottom piece of his garment to make his way toward the changing room. He had at least counted on the fact that he’d be wearing clothes he likes that would have comforted Taehyung for the remainder of the festivities with the over 270 human guests awaiting him.

Someone taps Taehyung’s arm.

It's Jungkook.

“Wait."

Taehyung twists around. Jungkook vanishes in a room before coming back, this time armed with garment bags. 

“Here.” Jungkook hands his burden to Taehyung who takes it with narrowed eyes. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t like the clothes they got for you, so I bought another outfit just in case. I think it’s more your taste?” He says, swaying on the ball of his feet and nervously fiddling with his wedding ring, an odd reaction from the usually confident prince. 

Taehyung throws the shirt and pants away in favor of sliding open one of the garment bags. A suit, grey with a subtle checkered pattern on it, greets him. A black, silk shirt complements the rest of the outfit; short sleeved and with a loose v neck that will dip low over Taehyung’s chest; along with a vest with dark lapels.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted any sort of jewelry, but I also stumbled on this while shopping for these,” Jungkook resumes and opens the box that had been laying on a dresser. “I thought you might like it too. You attach it at the back, a bit like a harness?”

Some sort of golden ribcage jewelry lies in the box with dark straps at the back. Or is it more of a ribcage corset? Taehyung isn’t so certain, but it’s on brand with the bone-like necklace he wears, and more surprisingly, it brings the apparel as a whole together. The entire thing is admittedly stunning, falling right under the picky umbrella of Taehyung's tastes.

Jungkook fidgets with one of the ribcage's buckles, looking at anything but Taehyung. “I don’t know if you like it. I saw it and I thought— I just bought it. Without thinking. And… Uhm. Yeah. With the skulls on our headpieces, I thought maybe you’d like this? I don’t know what I thought, I— Forget about it, I’ll—”

Taehyung lightly smacks Jungkook's hand away to grab the harness/corset/whatever the fuck it is. Taehyung only now really pays attention to Jungkook.

The Prince is dressed in a layered, black outfit, saved for the golden accents that compliment that elegance of the garment. Jungkook’s back is naked for the most part, and the rows of thin chains of gems dangle along his spine when he turns to the side.

“I like it,” Taehyung says, because to his pleasant surprise, he truly does appreciate the apparel. He supposes the admission can serve as a word of gratitude. 

“I can’t believe you managed to find clothes Taehyung likes,” Dahee says, diverting Taehyung's gaze from the dragon necklace Jungkook has fastened around his neck. “He has always been impossibly difficult.”

“I’m not difficult,” Taehyung retorts as he enters the changing room.

“You are when it does not concern simple clothing, my son,” Junhyun counters.

Taehyung glares at his parents before yanking the curtain shut. He promptly gets dressed, and he's taken aback by how well the ribcage harness and suit fits him. After peering at the black and red scale falling from his neck, he steps out.

Jimin whistles. “The two of you will be turning heads tonight, especially you,” he adds with a wink at Jungkook who giggles.

“We should leave before the Queen sends an army to get us,” Yoongi worries, who has been quiet his own corner.

“Yes. Let's.” Jungkook makes a move to exit the area, however Taehyung grabs his arm.

“Wait.” 

Everyone pauses and looks at Taehyung. 

“Not you. I have to speak with the viper,” Taehyung clarifies. Yoongi’s wariness is as evident as a griffin inside a shop of glass, but Taehyung ignores it to tug Jungkook toward the far back of the room as the rest of the group leaves the place.

“What is it?”

Taehyung releases his hold. “What do you want to do about Seungwon?”

Jungkook deflates, shoulders sagging. He sighs. “I have no idea… Maybe he was only present at the ceremony since it’s been held outside? He shouldn’t be there at the feast or ball.”

“That’s wishful thinking.”

“Perhaps.”

“And if he’s there?” Taehyung presses. Seungwon has no care for rules or demands, even if coming from Amaris’ rulers.

Jungkook silently observes Taehyung for a moment. “You said you’d shun him.”

“Yes, and I mean it if that’s what you want. I hate him as much as you do. Plus seeing his face at the feast might have me barf my damn dinner,” Taehyung grumbles, already annoyed at the sole thought of the pig being there. Jungkook chuckles. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know, Taehyung,” Jungkook sobers up, his words slow and weary.

Taehyung stares at him then proposes “We’ll see when we get there, and if he’s here to begin with.”

“Sounds good.”

Taehyung makes his way toward the exit door, Jungkook trailing at the back. 

Taehyung’s family and Jungkook’s friends await them as they walk down the corridor.

“What’s wrong? Has he done something?” Yoongi asks with a frown.

“If I had, I'd be walking around with one less earlobe,” Taehyung jests.

Jungkook bursts into laughter.

“Deservedly so,” Yoongi snides, and all at once, Taehyung comprehends from whom the Prince has gotten his brashness.

“Yoongi, I’m fine,” Jungkook chastises with a pointed look. “I’m just a bit tired and a lot hungry, so let’s get downstairs.”

The group discusses while descending toward the garden where dinner will be held. At the head of the group with Taehyung, Jungkook slings an arm around Taehyung’s, the two of them soon greeted by the plethora of guests awaiting them.

Taehyung notices the difference from how the crowd had been during the spectacle and ceremony. 

The ambiance here is more disciplined and uptight, an accurate reflection of the pompous, stuck up human guests populating the area. Thankfully, the few dragonborns present don’t shy away from loudly cheering and making a show of it, bringing some humor out of Taehyung when two dragonborns draw two kissing faces in the air.

Taehyung, his parents and Jimin, along with Jungkook and his friends, all join Seohyung and Sungmin at their dining table facing those of the guests. 

The tables and chairs are all made of wood, with sparse decorations on them, the cushions beige and mingling well with the greenery. The area is unexpectedly warm in spite of being outside at night during winter. Taehyung suspects a warlock is the cause of this. Or perhaps some of the dragonborns with fire breaths that must be emanating a certain heat to keep themselves and those at their table warm.

Taehyung’s group settles down, the guests mirroring them. Jungkook is on Taehyung's right along with his parents, Namjoon and the annoying warlock; meanwhile Taehyung's family cascades down at Taehyung's left.

Taehyung settles his arcane on the fire aspect to spread the heat toward his family. In a feat of kindness, he extends it toward Jungkook as well. And only the Prince. Amaris’ rulers along with Jungkook’s friends can freeze to death for all Taehyung cares.

“Please,” Jungkook starts, standing and raising his glass, “enjoy the meal our wonderful chefs have prepared for us tonight, and thank you for joining us.”

The guests clap as Jungkook sits down.

Maids arrive, settling plates with the entrée.

Taehyung promptly digs in. Similar to how the food had been the first time Taehyung had eaten at Amaris, the fare is exquisite.

The dinner elapses rather peacefully aside from the scrutinizing eyes Taehyung can feel on him at every second that passes. It bothers him, however he can’t do much about it lest he antagonizes the guests. So Taehyung remains quiet, focusing on his meal and entirely forsaking the guests' existence.

Amidst the interlude between the entrée and dinner, some of the guests walk up to Taehyung and Jungkook’s table to congratulate them about their marriage. The discussions are thankfully sparse and brief. Taehyung doesn't speak much to save what’s left of his energy for later mingling.

Jungkook is fairly quiet as well, only occasionally talking with Taehyung or touching Taehyung’s forearm here and there. 

It’s odd, but Taehyung doesn't care enough to ask.

Well…

He does not care until his gaze drifts on Jungkook.

Jungkook's left hand is on the table, his fingers sprawled over the napkin neatly folded on the wood. The index of his other hand traces the sharp angles of his wedding ring’s diamond. The motion is slow and attentive. His dessert is untouched.

“I’m not getting you another one if you don’t like it,” Taehyung says then takes a sip of his water.

Jungkook jolts on his seat. He watches Taehyung and shakes his head. “I love it." He looks at the ring again. “I’m just… fascinated.”

“By what?”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook says through a chuckle. “You created a storm. And I don’t know what is more spellbinding: the fact that your arcane is powerful enough to alter weather? Or the fact that you have knowledge on how to create a thunderstorm using nature and your breaths?"

Now.

Taehyung isn’t the kind of man to blush and giggle or any of that nonsense, however he does feel a warm sense of pride swell in him at Jungkook’s confession. 

“S'not much," Taehyung shrugs with a faux air of nonchalance.

“I think it’s pretty amazing,” Jungkook rebuts. “Will the storm remain inside the ring?”

“It’s trapped in the diamond and feeding itself in a constant cycle, so yes, it will, unless the diamond breaks. Or if I die.”

“What?”

“If I die, my arcane will obviously be gone, and with it the storm will be too.”

“Don’t say that,” Jungkook mutters through pursed lips.

“You asked.” Taehyung pushes his plate away now that he’s done inhaling his third serving.

“It’s too dark of a conversation to have at a wedding.”

“Alright, let’s talk about something else then.” Taehyung lifts his pendant by the chain and says “You don’t have scales, so what is this made of?”

Jungkook visibly stills. His lips part then close a few times. “I… I mean—” He clears his throat and brings his cup to his mouth. “Dark theme.”

Taehyung squints at the Prince. He straightens up and leans closer to Jungkook who deftly averts his gaze. “What is the scale made of?”

“Does it matter?”

“It didn’t until you reacted like that. I need to know now.”

“That’s too bad.” Jungkook pushes Taehyung away.

“Damned viper. What is it made of?” Taehyung presses and he has half a mind to remove the pendant but he can’t. Not in front of the few dragonborns feasting with them.

“Ask me nicely and I’ll consider telling you,” Jungkook says with a jut of his chin. Taehyung reprimands the jest with a zap on Jungkook’s thigh. Jungkook startles and glares at him. "Stop doing that!"

“Doesn’t hurt.”

Jungkook tweaks the skin on Taehyung’s forearm. “Every time you zap me, I’ll pinch you.”

“Sure.” Taehyung zaps Jungkook and, as promised, it’s followed by a hard pinch.

“You’re such a child,” Jungkook laments and contorts when Taehyung aims another zap of his lightning on Jungkook’s side. “Stop it,” he exclaims through a laugh.

“No. Now tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“I said no, you prick. If you were nice, I’d—”

Taehyung zaps Jungkook twice. “Tell. Me.”

And Jungkook responds with a double pinch. “N. O.”

“You fucking brat, tell me what—” Taehyung pauses when he hears some snickers coming from his left. 

His head darts to peer at his smiling family, and when he looks ahead, he realizes that every single guest is staring at him and Jungkook. Some are holding back their laughter, hiding it behind a hand, while most of them are clearly taken aback and nonplussed at the bickering husbands.

Jungkook tenses next to Taehyung. 

Taehyung's gaze falls on Jungkook’s lap: the Queen has placed a tight, bruising-looking hand on Jungkook's knee.

“Behave,” Seohyung hisses through a forged curl of her mouth.

Slipping into a particularly devious mood, Taehyung decides to interject. Not to defend Jungkook, but rather to revel in the ire that will inevitably take over Seohyung's face. “My husband can do and say whatever he wishes."

Seohyung’s somber gaze flies toward Taehyung. “He is embarrassing us.”

“He’s embarrassing you, not me or my family,” Taehyung corrects and slings an arm around the back of Jungkook’s chair. “Leave him be.”

“My Queen,” Jungkook says with an equally faux smile, voice low to not be heard by the prying guests. “Let go of me. Right now. Lest I make a scene.”

The Queen wordlessly relents her hold on Jungkook’s knee, not without one last admonishing glance.

“I’m still waiting,” Taehyung reminds Jungkook

Jungkook levels Taehyung with a deadpan look. Taehyung arches a brow and Jungkook sighs. “Half of it is one of Revna’s scales that I found on the floor and had been melted."

“And the other half?”

“Well,” Jungkook draws out. “It might be… my blood?”

Taehyung blankly stares at Jungkook.

He had fleetingly considered this, however he had discarded the theory that had sounded too unhinged for the Prince. 

And yet...

Taehyung lifts the scale to his face and further examines it. Its scent does not retain any metallic tinge to it. “Have you gone mad?”

“In my defense, I was told that the pendant exchange is one of the most important traditions for dragonborns, and that a piece of me had to be given,” Jungkook explains. “I don’t have scales, and I wasn’t about to give you one of my nails. So.”

Adding blood isn’t unheard of, but it is quite rare as dragonborns simply choose to give one of their scales.

“Is that too much?”

“Me wearing your blood around my neck?”

“When you put it like that… “But Jimin told me it was fine, and that it was sometimes done.”

“Yeah, it can happen.”

“So you don’t mind. You’re just being a prick about it.”

Taehyung minds having a constant reminder that he’s forever tied to Jungkook, but said reminder being made of blood is an unimportant detail for him. “It would bother me even if the scale was made from gold.”

Jungkook watches Taehyung for a moment before going back to his dessert. “I see.”

The remainder of the feast loses its serenity.

Jungkook doesn’t utter a word, and at first Taehyung assumes that it’s due to something he has said, however Taehyung promptly understands the cause of Jungkook’s growing irritation.

The rare times Jungkook dares speak, he’s shushed by Seohyung. When he makes a move to stand, Seohyung stops him with a gripping hand that Taehyung doesn't need to look at to imagine the nails boring into the skin. When Jungkook eventually gets enough of her commands and is visibly about to snap at her, Sungmin pins him with a warning glare, and so Jungkook subdues, reverting back to this doll-like, impassive demeanor.

Jungkook says naught.

Taehyung leans near him and whispers "Want me to tell her off? I can—"

"Don't." Jungkook's glacial gaze drifts on Taehyung for a moment before it skids away.

So Taehyung doesn't say anything else.

He and his family watch everything unfold, Dahee in particular who can’t hide her contempt. 

Taehyung meets Jimin’s irked gaze at one point. Taehyung mouths a ‘Told you’ to him.

An hour and a half later, Jungkook stands.

“If you could please follow us inside the castle,” Jungkook requests and makes a motion toward it. Taehyung catches the reddish crescent in the palm. “Drinks and more appetizers await us for the remainder of the night.”

The guests rise to their feet, escorted by some servants to the confinement of the castle. 

Although no other word has been spoken, those at Taehyung’s table linger behind in a muted, mutual agreement.

Once every guest has left the premises, the bubble bursts.

The Queen utters Jungkook's name, the enmity she holds for her own son oozing from that sole word. 

Jungkook slowly turns around to face Seohyung, impassive. “Yes, my Queen?”

“Seohyung and I would like to speak with you,” Sungmin says.

“Regarding?”

Sungmin glances at Taehyung. “It is a private discussion. Follow us.” He swivels on his feet and starts to walk away, however neither the Queen or Jungkook budge. “Jungkook. Now. Do not make me repeat myself.”

“Jungkook, if this will be your behavior during this marriage, perhaps a revision of the terms must be done, starting by bringing you back to Amaris until we deem you disciplined enough to leave,” Seohyung warns.

Jungkook slowly exhales through his nose. He runs a hand through his sculpted hair, ruining the careful styling. He then chooses to ignore the Queen in order to turn toward Taehyung and step aside to make his way toward the castle. He does not get very far before Seohyung yanks him back by the wrist.

“Come with us before I have you sent to a room."

Leaning against the table, Taehyung muses about whether or not he should intervene. He decides not to for several reasons: 1) he doesn’t want to, 2) Jungkook forbade him to, 3) he doesn’t need to.

Jungkook wrenches his arm from Seohyung’s hold and stalks closer to the Queen who walks backward, her gaze darkening. “I am so, so fucking tired of your constant bullshit.”

Taehyung’s brows fly off his forehead to disappear somewhere in the sky. His mouth parts open as he catches a breathed out ‘Oh’ from Jimin. Yoongi and Namjoon looked stunned as well, gawking at Jungkook.

“I’m done. I’m done. Do you understand? I'm done with your 'Jungkook this’, ‘Jungkook that’, of hating my own name because of you. You don’t get to dictate my life anymore, and you never will again,” Jungkook rasps through a laugh, one of those barbed with callousness. “You can spew all the threats you want, you can even try to use my own husband or Seungwon to chain me down, however none of this will matter, Seohyung. It won't matter when I finally let go of any inhibitions I may have and tear asunder every single thing you stand for no matter how meager it is.”

“Do not speak to your Queen—”

“She is not my Queen,” Jungkook interrupts Sungming. “She is no Queen or mother, just like you are no King or father. You are nothing but measly pests.”

“Jungkook, if you do not cease this tantrum immediately…”

"Yes?"

Sungming only glowers at his son.

"Well why stop so soon? Let us hear what you have prepared for me," Jungkook dares. He even pauses for a moment, however Seohyung and Sungmin remain quiet, to Taehyung's amusement. "Nothing? Have you perhaps found reason at last?"

"You have forgotten your place," Seohyung seethes.

"Have I? Say, Seohyung, if I am to expose all you’ve done to me, how horribly you've treated our workers behind closed doors, who will Amaris’ people side with? You, the wretched Queen and King? Or me, the mistreated yet beloved heir?"

Cornered against the table by Jungkook, Seohyung shoves him away to straighten non-existent wrinkles in his dress. “They would never believe any lie spilling out of your vile mouth.”

“I see reason still escapes you,” Jungkook says with a forlorn sigh. Taehyung has to press his lips together to bite back his hilarity. "How naïve must you be to believe I haven't collected proof of your discipline."

A flash of surprise flickers over Seohyung's face, washed over by a frigid rancor. “Are you threatening us?”

“I don't know. Are you threatening me?"

“Moving to Vanae and living with dragonborns has made you lose sight of—” Sungmin pauses, as though remembering now the presence of Taehyung and his family.

“Nevertheless, today is my wedding. It is my day," Jungkook emphasizes. "I would like to keep it as a good memory instead of a nightmare induced by you both. Do not pester me with your presence unless I personally seek it. Is that clear?”

Seohyung is positively fuming, her form trembling with repressed anger. You…” She halts as Sungmin’s hand touches her back. She grips onto the sides of her dress, then she swivels around to stride away, Sungmin hot on her trail.

Dahee, hidden behind Junhyun’s large stature, has a hand pressed against her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Jimin isn't faring any better, lips pursed to conceal his smile.

Taehyung's own hilarity lessens when he catches the tremors in Jungkook's hand, or the fear that swims in his eyes when he shakily exhales. “I can’t believe you fucking swore,” he says, an attempt to break the terseness. 

Jungkook’s gaze darts on Taehyung. He chuckles, even if weakly. “You’re a terrible influence.”

“Jungkook, what the hell,” Yoongi curtly says.

“I’m tired of her and Sungmin,” Jungkook sluggishly shrugs.

“And you’re sure it’s wise to oppose her this way?” Yoongi counters.

“I think it’s wonderful," Taehyung interjects and pushes himself off the table to stand near Jungkook. "He should do it more often."

“You don’t seem to understand that infuriating the Queen never bodes to anything good," Yoongi says.

“And what would happen? She’d lock me in a room? Been there, done that. She’d threaten to break off the engagement with Taehyung? Been there, done that. She’d mention Seungwon to frighten me? Been there, done that, several times. I can’t— I can’t do this anymore, Yoongi. I haven’t experienced this much happiness and peace since I left Amaris. My chest doesn't feel heavy anymore. I can finally breathe. I'm free. For the first time in my life, I’m free.” The last word breaks at the end, a turmoil of emotion flashing across Jungkook’s face. “And I refuse to lose any of this because I'm scared of the worst when it's already happened to me."

“If anything is to occur,” Junhyun chips in, “you have us as allies, Jungkook. We are loyal to you and your people, not to the Queen and King.”

“It's just… They really don't like how brash you’ve been since you left,” Yoongi continues.

“And?” Jungkook says.

Yoongi breaks from the stern tone he had been adopting to smile. “And it’s hilarious. Just be careful, kid,” he says and pats Jungkook’s head. "I'm worried."

“I’m 24,” Jungkook mumbles and bats Yoongi’s hand away.

“Still a kid to me.”

“Sorry to break whatever is going on. Yoongi: I nearly smacked you. Jungkook: I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself no matter how risky it is,” Namjoon fires in one breath. “Everyone: can we please head inside? I’m freezing my ass off.”

Taehyung nods. Even he is growing cold in spite of his arcane. “My nipples are about to fall off."

“That’s what you get for showing off your pecs in the middle of winter, stupid idiot,” Jimin jests.

“Fuck off. I’m blaming the Prince. He's the one who chose this.”

“The Prince is more than happy to take the blame,” Jungkook says and holds onto Taehyung’s arm. “You are indeed turning heads, mine included.”

Taehyung peers at Jungkook. “What does that even mean?”

Jungkook responds with a stony stare. “‘Stupid idiot’ is an euphemism,” he eventually says to Jimin.

“Yup.” Jimin pops out the ‘p’.

Everyone chats together as the group enters the castle, the entrance door shut close behind them.

Jungkook guides them through a series of corridors, and a few minutes later, they arrive at the vast ballroom that is as ostentatious as the rest of the building. Chandeliers dangle from the ceiling while candelabras dot the place, illuminating it along with two large fireplaces that warm up the area.

Windows line up the walls, displaying the night sky, and Taehyung is somewhat reassured by the openness of the ballroom. His restlessness simmers beneath his skin at the 300 guests scattered across the marble floor, but he finds some comfort in the — delicious looking — finger food littering the tables.

Taehyung heaves a deep, long sigh. “Let the nightmare begin.”

Dahee softly slaps Taehyung’s shoulder. “Son.”

“I said what I said.”

“I think this night can be fun,” Jungkook chirps. “Especially if we—”

All of a sudden, Jungkook freezes, and his enthusiasm wanes quicker than a thawing block of ice thrown in a blazing bonfire. 

Taehyung is confused, to say the least, even more when Jungkook’s fingers tighten where they’re curled around Taehyung’s bicep.

Jungkook is looking at a spot behind Taehyung.

Taehyung’s head twists around.

“This…”

“What’s ha—”

“Seungwon’s here,” Taehyung interrupts Yoongi.

Yoongi turns on his feet as well. He looks pissed off, Namjoon as well, and quite frankly, everyone in their group does, including Taehyung’s parents. Jimin is the only one who isn’t showing any emotion aside from pure indifference.

“I’ll talk to the Queen,” Namjoon snips. “This bastard isn’t allowed here. I told her to not let him get in no matter what but—”

“Rats always find their way, don’t they?” Jungkook sneers.

The faint music floating in the room does nothing to alleviate the tension that has fallen over their group.

Seohyung and Sungmin are conversing with some guests on the other side of the room. Taehyung can’t tell if they’re aware of the dragonborn’s presence or not.

“I should have known better," Jungkook says. “She’s doing this to discipline me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she wouldn’t have let him in initially, but changed her mind after what I said to her earlier.”

“He would have showed up either way,” Jimin states, facing away from Seungwon. “He has a knack for being in places he’s not invited to.”

Dahee hums. “Perhaps we should—”

Before Dahee can finish her sentence, they’re swarmed by the guests who can now freely discuss — and bother — the newly married couple.

Jungkook wears his carefully crafted mask of cordiality as he takes the onslaught of congratulations and questions with a stride. Taehyung doesn’t listen much to the mundane chats that erupt around him, although he does pipe in here and there for good measure. 

His mind is preoccupied.

The prickling he has felt a couple times throughout the ceremony is back once more, the sensation of being watched unnerving. However when he scouts his surroundings, he can’t see anything that would explain his abrupt discomfort. Perhaps being surrounded by humans is hitting him more than he had realized at first.

The after-party unfolds in this same manner: with Taehyung and Jungkook reluctantly mingling with guests.

Taehyung musters some smiles at first. He does his best to appear approachable with Vanae’s sake in mind, but the more the night goes on, the more useless his efforts feel in this environment.

The human guests keep glancing at him, more specifically at the other invited dragonborns. The humans murmur Elders know what to each other, some not even attempting to hide their blatant disdain.

Everything feels more stuffy and fabricated here, as if this night exists only to serve as a ploy to form new connections, if deemed beneficial. It reads like a test as well: of Taehyung, his family and people. The amount of inquiries thrown in Taehyung’s face is endless, more arguable and audacious than the other.

Taehyung won’t say it to the Prince, but he’s thankful for how Jungkook diverts the attention away from Taehyung.

Jungkook doesn’t shy away from complimenting Vanae and its people, or dragonborns in general. He speaks about his life in this new land, how wonderful it is, how much he’s been learning there. It helps with some of the guests' wariness, but not all.

Jungkook evidently strives in those kinds of social and political matters where pretending is at the core of everything. It has Taehyung thinking back on what his mother had said what feels like months ago, about how Taehyung and Jungkook would complement each other well. Taehyung doesn’t think it holds much truth at all, but he has to concede that Jungkook does balance Taehyung’s aloofness and social awkwardness quite well.

An hour passes that Taehyung spends maintaining a careful eye on Seungwon. 

Jungkook grows more and more tense next to Taehyung, his form strained and smiles losing their curl. So when the two of them finish their glass, Taehyung uses this to excuse them from the group they have been hooked by, and leads Jungkook toward a more secluded table for a moment of peace.

Jungkook releases his hold on Taehyung to fill his glass with some non-alcoholic punch. “I know you don’t care and that it’s for pretense,” Jungkook starts, preceding Taehyung.

Taehyung waits for Jungkook to continue as he fills up his own glass with a strawberry cocktail. “What?” He presses when Jungkook never finishes. “Speak your mind.”

“Can I stay close to you tonight?”

Taehyung glances at Jungkook, then at Seungwon. 

Seungwon has not left Jungkook's form once. 

Taehyung internally snarls. He could force Seungwon to leave, maybe provoke him into a challenge, but he won’t go that far yet when neither his family or Jungkook have requested it. “Yeah,” Taehyung opts to say. It’s not like the two of them are expected to be apart on their wedding day anyway.

“Thank you,” Jungkook exhales. He shuffles closer to hang onto Taehyung’s arm again. “Is this okay?”

“Do you have to be so damn close?” Taehyung grumbles when Jungkook’s chest presses flush against the back of his arm, their hips bumping together.

“Does it bother you?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Neither does it answer mine."

“I asked first and before your mouth me off, answer me.”

“I don’t have to be close,” Jungkook says and does the exact opposite by moving closer to Taehyung if possible, “but it is nice.”

“How is that nice,” Taehyung says and walks them to a table where some finger food is laid atop.

“It’s nice because I’m feeling safe right now.” Jungkook rests his glass to munch on an appetizer. “And I don’t mind being near you, unlike you, but I’m selfish enough to temporarily discard your discomfort that may not even be there to begin with anyway.”

“I am uncomfortable.” Kind of, Taehyung thinks to himself. He’d be happier away from everyone at present, but being near the Prince who is a familiar face isn’t too bad.

“You seem pretty relaxed though,” Jungkook teases.

“I’m a good actor.”

“No you’re not.”

Yeah, Taehyung isn’t.

“Are you really okay with me being this close?” Jungkook quietly asks. “I was joking earlier. I’ll step away if it bothers you.”

Taehyung mulls over his answer. “S’fine."

“Okay. Thank you.” Jungkook's fingers drift up and down Taehyung’s bicep over the gray vest. They squeeze every now and then on their path.

One of Taehyung’s eyes twitches. 

It's when Jungkook’s fingertips probe some more that Taehyung leans near him to mutter “I said I’m fine with the closeness, not with being fondled, Viper.”

“I’m not fondling,” Jungkook denies yet does not stop his ministrations. “I’m… assessing.”

“Assessing what? The circumference of my bicep?”

“Your strength.”

“You’ve seen me split apart a tree trunk with my bare hands. What is there to ‘assess’?”

“That is for me to know, and you to wonder. But good luck with that since you can be so fascinatingly dense sometimes. Truly a feat.”

“Fuck you.”

Jungkook laughs, full of mischief. His improved mood doesn’t last for long, however. “He’s still staring at me. I don’t even have to check to know he is. 'can feel it.”

When Taehyung looks around, his gaze collides with Seungwon’s for a fleeting moment before the dragonborn looks away. “He’s not anymore.”

Jungkook exhales through his nose, jaw held tight. “I hate him, Taehyung.”

“I know. Let go of me.”

Jungkook immediately does. “Sor—”

Before Jungkook can finish his apology, Taehyung curls an arm around Jungkook’s waist to pull him in front of him. Jungkook does not say anything at the light manhandling aside from looking at Taehyung and uttering a small ‘Oh’ when he ends up standing with the table behind him and Taehyung at the front. 

The Prince is effectively concealed from Seungwon’s scrutiny now, and Taehyung can’t help but gloat at the irked frown that etches the pig’s forehead.

“Doubt he can see much of you anymore,” Taehyung snickers then sips on his beverage. “He’d have to get closer to do so, and if he does, I’ll happily tell him off.” He can already taste the satisfaction he'd feel if he were to snatch Seungwon by the collar and put him through a wall. “Although—” 

Jungkook is staring at Taehyung, which isn't all that strange. He's sporting a look similar to the one he had on when he had opened his wedding gift, however here, it's softened with something Taehyung can't decipher.

“Thank you,” Jungkook murmurs. The smile he draws may be small, but it is impossibly pleased, even when hidden by the hand he raises in front of his mouth.

Taehyung doesn’t know what to answer to this or Jungkook’s odd reaction, so he completely ignores both. “If I have to leave or am occupied entertaining the masses, you can go to my parents or Jimin. And if Seungwon bothers you when you’re alone, tell me,” Taehyung instructs but Jungkook chuckles. “What’s so funny?”

“In spite of the dislike you nurture for me, you’ve shown more protection and care toward me than my own parents. Is it not pathetic?”

“Rather than pathetic it should be infuriating."

“Oh, it is. It does not take away from the fact that it’s pathetic as well.”

“Then do something about it instead of wallowing in it."

“Yes, perhaps I should,” Jungkook says without an ounce of hurt.

Taehyung reminisces about the Prince’s outburst after the feast. “Kinda have earlier.”

“And look at the price I’m paying for it,” Jungkook derides, peering above Taehyung’s shoulder. “I’m afraid it’s about to become worse. You were right when you said Seungwon doesn’t like to not be given what he desires.”

“Huh?”

“What a pleasure.”

Taehyung’s nose twitches at the putrid waft that flies his way. He rests his glass on the table to avoid crushing it between his grip. He turns around, greeted by a smiling pig.

“Congratulations on the wedding, Jungkook,” Seungwon crookedly grins. “Hopefully this engagement lasts.”

Jungkook dismisses the words, not even bothering to appear friendly. “I thought we made it clear to the Queen to retract your invitation."

“The ceremony is over, is it not? This is more of a ball.” Seungwon rakes his eyes across the room before settling them on Jungkook. He does a once over of Jungkook. A corner of his mouth tugs upward. "Aren't you beautiful tonight, Doll."

“You were still there during the ceremony despite being forbidden to," Jungkook continues. "The Queen must have warned you about—”

“She may have fallen for his childish bluff, but I didn’t. This vermin wouldn’t challenge me,” Seungwon laughs, loud and commanding the attention of onlookers. “It’d put too much at stake, ain’t it? Cowards don’t risk that much.”

“Funny how the man who always chooses to hurt those weaker than him speaks about cowardice.” Taehyung's arcane swirls in his chest, lightning dancing between his fingertips.

Woobin makes his arrival at that moment and halts next to his father. His usual cockiness is gone, replaced by wariness. 

Taehyung catches the looks his family pin Seungwon with from afar, and when Jimin mouths a ‘Need help?’ , Taehyung shakes his head.

“You admit being weaker than me?” Seungwon taunts, a reference to a scene of the past Taehyung wishes he could erase from his mind. “So much anger when I simply wanted to congratulate you both. With this, ah, union, we’re bound to meet at the Council. Sounds exciting, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung steps forward, partially wedging himself between Jungkook and Seungwon. “I don’t have the patience to deal with any of your fucking bullshit tonight. Leave.”

Seungwon’s merriness dissipates. People whisper around them and this is all it takes for Seungwon’s infamous fury to make its appearance as the color of his eyes reddens to a deep orange. “Careful how you address me, vermin.”

“If someone should be careful here, it’s certainly not me.”

“Careful of him too,” Seungwon sneers, raising his overly jeweled hand to wave it in Jungkook’s direction. “This one bites.”

Taehyung glances at Seungwon’s absent earlobe. “Does he?” He asks with a smile, his arm slotting around Jungkook’s waist. “He hasn't with me so far. At least nothing I didn’t ask for.”

“You’ll see,” Seungwon scorns. “He wasn’t well disciplined back when he was promised to be mine. You should consider yourself lucky that he is now.”

“Or perhaps the idea of being your betrothed repulsed him so much he had to find an outlet for it,” Taehyung shoots back. He says nothing when Jungkook buries his face against his arm, his attempt at hiding his hilarity nullified by his shaking shoulders.

Seungwon glowers. “Watch your mouth."

“And watch your hands. I’ve come to know they wander, and I don’t take kindly to pigs making my husband uncomfortable,” Taehyung says, loud enough to be heard by the gossiping guests. 

“Father, there is someone who would like to speak with you,” Woobin interjects.

Seungwon’s gaze darts on his son then on the eavesdropping guests. Without granting another look at Taehyung or Jungkook, Seungwon marches off, snapping questions at Woobin who scurries to answer.

Taehyung distractedly listens to the rush of murmur that runs through the room, some of them about how surprised they are of Seungwon’s behavior. Others, however, converse about the marriage, and it’s those that get Taehyung’s attention. 

From the gist of what Taehyung has been getting for the past hour, a few of the guests appear to not have fallen for the pretense Taehyung and Jungkook have been putting — pretense that he admits to have been barely existent —, which could have some unfavorable outcomes for dragonborns.

Perhaps he could act more touchy with Jungkook, Taehyung ponders with distaste, but… By the Elders. What he and Jungkook decide to show off of their relationship should not have any importance for those noisy, blabbering busybody. It shouldn’t fucking matter but here he is, pretending, mulling over how to steer through a relationship that—

“Oh my God,” Jungkook laughs, tearing Taehyung away from his escalating thoughts. “His face. He’s so mad.”

Seungwon does look pissed off, which is quite the understatement for the glower that darkens his face.

“Good,” is all that Taehyung says.

“It’s reassuring to see the hatred you nurse for him.” Jungkook may have heard the ambient gossiping because he shuffles to face Taehyung and spreads a hand over Taehyung’s chest, pressing close to him. “The rest of your family seems to despise him just as much,” he notes, ever observant. “How come?”

“None of your concern.”

“You’re boring,” Jungkook says with an eye roll and Taehyung hums, his palm sliding down to Jungkook’s lower back. “Now kiss me. People are talking.”

Taehyung retrieves the glass from Jungkook’s hand to place it on the table. His fingers curl around Jungkook’s jaw to tilt his head to the side and he lowers his own, murmuring into Jungkook’s ear as to not be heard by anyone other than the Prince. “Pretend I’m whispering filthy shit to you,” he instructs and cups Jungkook’s waist. “I need a break, and you clearly do too. We’ll leave through the corridor on the right and come back later. It’ll give those babbling mouths something to talk about, yeah?”

Taehyung feels Jungkook's nod. When he reclines to survey the Prince, a rosy tint dusts Jungkook’s cheeks, his eyes faintly widened. Taehyung doesn’t know if it’s possible to fake a blush — maybe Jungkook discreetly pinched his cheeks red —, but he’ll take it as part of the pretense.

The hand that cups Jungkook's jaw drifts down to the throat, pausing there for a fleeting moment, before Taehyung's palm finds its place on Jungkook's nape. It's only then that Taehyung speaks, loud enough to be heard. 

“Let’s get out of here for a minute, hm?”

Jungkook blinks, and he’s admittedly damn good at acting because his blush deepens. “I— Uh, yeah. Yes. Where…”

“Lead the way,” Taehyung says with a nod toward the corridor situated on the right side of the imperial stairs.

“Jeon Jungkook! What a—”

“Later.” Taehyung discards the man with a cold stare then focuses back on Jungkook. “Come on.”

Jungkook swivels on his feet as he begins to walk away. Taehyung closely trails after him, his fingers crawling up Jungkook’s scalp to card through the strands of hair. 

They're strangely silky. 

Taehyung had expected them to be crunchy from whatever product the Prince has used to style them, yet they aren’t, softly flowing through his fingers.

This is… 

This is quite nice, Taehyung thinks as he rubs a lock between his thumb and index finger. He's reminded of that one silky smooth shirt he had stolen from Jimin. Taehyung touches his own hair. They aren't quite as soft as Jungkook's.

"Taehyung, Jungkook, may I borrow your att—"

"Later," Taehyung hisses.

Right before they vanish inside the corridor, and after a quick glance to ensure those in their vicinity are scrutinizing their every move, Taehyung uses his hold on Jungkook to turn him around. 

Then, without allowing himself to question it, Taehyung kisses Jungkook. 

His and Jungkook’s breath mingle together when he slots his lips around one of Jungkook’s right as the two of them disappear inside the corridor.

Jungkook’s hands fly to Taehyung’s shoulders from where he's forced to walk by Taehyung who pushes them further into the corridor. Jungkook’s equilibrium wavers, most likely tripping over his own feet like a damn hatchling. He yelps, breaking the kiss at the same time. 

“Can’t you walk?” Taehyung chides as he readjusts the Prince's balance.

“You took me by surprise!"

Taehyung releases Jungkook then steps away from him. He wipes his mouth against the back of his hand and childishly makes a gagging noise that Jungkook chastises with a swat on Taehyung’s arm. 

“You’re such an immature prick,” Jungkook mumbles, striding down the hallway.

The tip of his ears and back of his neck are pink, Taehyung notes. "Why are you blushing?"

Jungkook's hands fly up to smack atop his ears. "Quiet."

Taehyung follows Jungkook. 

They enter a room adjoined with a balcony. 

He and Jungkook blow out a puff of air in unison, Jungkook’s more petulant as he slumps down on the bed, his arms covering his face.

“By the Elders,” Taehyung groans and walks toward the balcony to slide open the glass door. The air is fresh and dewy, appeasing his mood. “I fucking hate this night.”

“There’s the dance, some quick mingling to bid goodbye to the guests, and then it’ll be over,” Jungkook mumbles in the crook of his elbow.

“I don’t know how much more mingling I can handle, Viper." It’s been over two hours since the after-party has started, and his patience is running thinner by the minute. “The pretense isn’t even working.”

“It definitely did after what we’ve just done. I can already hear them speculate about what we’re doing right now.”

“I should’ve brought Seungwon here to repeatedly smash his head against the wall and have the guests think the banging sound is something else entirely."

Jungkook bursts into laughter. His dress shoes click on the wooden floor before he crouches next to where Taehyung has plopped down on the floor. “Can you imagine their surprise? Instead of seeing us fool around, they’d be greeted by Seungwon’s ghastly sight.”

“Sounds like a dream to me.”

“I have to visit the bathroom,” Jungkook blurts out. 

Taehyung thinks about making some crude jibe, but something in Jungkook’s tone refrains him from doing so. 

“I'll be right back." Jungkook walks away before Taehyung can ask if he wants to be escorted to the restroom.

And so Taehyung does not as he watches Jungkook exit the bedroom.

Taehyung's fingers drum on his knee as he waits for the Prince.

A few minutes pass.

More time elapses without Jungkook coming back, and a voice nags at the back of Taehyung's head, becoming louder the more the stuffing silence drags on. 

Something's wrong.

Taehyung springs to his feet and leaves the room. He descends toward the corridor he and Jungkook had taken. He discreetly peeps inside the ballroom. His family and Jungkook’s friends are chatting together. 

Seungwon is absent. 

Taehyung clicks his tongue and retraces his steps.

Chapter Text

The castle is so stupidly huge that Taehyung has no damn clue of which bathrooms Jungkook has gone to. He maps out the second floor, fruitlessly opening door after door. He decides to check the third floor where more empty bedrooms, bathrooms, dressing rooms and whatnot await him.

“This viper…” Taehyung curses as he passes through an umpteenth hallway and makes his way to the left side of the third floor.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jungkook’s voice erupts from a narrow corridor.

Taehyung pauses.

“You and your vermin seem to want to play with me, trying to humiliate me,” Seungwon seethes. “I'll have you kneel in front of me again. Taehyung hasn't taught you your place.”

“Dear God... You're worse than a whining toddler."

Jungkook is probably rolling his eyes, Taehyung thinks. 

Taehyung listens in on the argument and leans to the side. 

Jungkook is reclined against the wall, Seungwon facing him less than a foot away. What ticks off Taehyung is the hand Seungwon has around Jungkook’s throat, his other hand fastened on Jungkook’s hip.

“All I need is a word with your parents and they’ll cancel that worthless deal with the vermin. You could ally with me, Doll,” Seungwon croons, and all at once Taehyung understands why Jungkook dislikes this ‘pet name’ so much. “I’d give you anything you want. You know that. I’ve shown you.”

Taehyung could intervene. He should, really, and so he makes his presence known, hands tucked in his trousers' pockets as he leans a shoulder against the wall. “You really don’t seem to learn, Seungwon."

Both Jungkook and Seungwon’s head snap in Taehyung’s direction. Taehyung only now notices the drop of blood dripping down Jungkook’s nose.

“And you don’t seem to teach that doll well enough. I can take care of it.” Seungwon glowers at Jungkook. “Get on your knees.”

Jungkook does not budge, as Taehyung anticipates. What he naively doesn’t see coming is the punch Seungwon delivers in Jungkook’s stomach who folds in half with a hiss. Seungwon seizes Jungkook by his hair and yanks his head back against the wall.

“You used to obey me so nicely."

Taehyung doesn’t do anything.

Firstly because he expects Jungkook to retaliate as he assumes he already has. Secondly because when Jungkook still does not move, Taehyung then expects the basilisk to lurch out and bite at Seungwon’s face, hopefully to a certain death Taehyung will happily help Jungkook conceal if needed.

Neither option happens, to Taehyung’s confusion.

“Even your own husband doesn’t stop me, what does it say about how important you are to people?” Seungwon taunts. “I’ve told you many times that you’d regret running away.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re a deranged man-child with a tendency to be pathetically neurotic. I fear for your offspring if someone ever has the will to wed and bed with someone like you.”

Seungwon doesn’t like Jungkook’s impudence, evidently. It’s shown in the way his mouth twists around a callous smile; in his left hand that tightens around Jungkook's throat; and in his right hand that lowers on his hip and under his vest, where he withdraws a dagger from.

Taehyung moves, swift and agile. 

Dragonborns’ bodies are quite sturdy and robust, meaning that Taehyung does not have to restrain his strength as much as he would with a human.

A crack snaps through the stillness as he wrenches the dagger from Seungwon. Seungwon jerks away, holding his limp wrist against his chest.

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, however before a single word comes out of it, he’s grabbed by the collar of his shirt and harshly shoved against the wall, the dagger yanked from his grip in the same deft motion. The blade is cold where it’s pressed against his neck, sinking into the flesh.

“You let him hit me,” Jungkook rasps.

"I assumed your slithering friend would help you." The dagger’s sharp blade nips at Taehyung’s skin. A drip of blood trickles down his throat. “The viper can wield a blade. How unexpected.”

“You watched him hit me and did nothing,” Jungkook stresses. “I can defend myself, but I don’t know if I’m allowed to. I’ve been living in your realm, surrounded by close bonded dragonborns. If I strike back, I could start a war without wanting to."

Right.

Perhaps Taehyung has been the foolish one for once.

“Taehyung? Jungkook?” 

Taehyung peers at his mother. She's walking down the corridor, accompanied by Jimin and Junhyun.

“We’ve been looking for you…” Dahee trails off. She visibly assesses the situation, her eyes darting from Seungwon's broken wrist to her son being held at the tip of a dagger. “What has happened?”

“This whore hurt me. I’ll have a word with the Queen and King.”

Jungkook lets go of Taehyung to pivot. “You struck first while I haven’t raised a single finger on you. I made sure not to.”

“I have a broken wrist. I wonder whose words your parents will believe," Seungwon says with a crooked smile. “'Jungkook came onto me despite being married. I did what had to be done’, is what I could tell. They’d understand. Everyone would.”

Jimin steps forward. “Disgusting fucker. I’ll kill you before you—”

“Look at him! He’s violent against his own betrothed,” Seungwon chortles. “Drawing a knife to his throat! Imagine what Vanae’s people would say if they heard about this. They wouldn’t want this waste of a wedding anymore.”

Taehyung’s head lightly thumps as it falls against the wall. His mouth parts open, and his words are guttural and raspy as his tongue curls around the ancient, forgotten language of dragons. However a few draconic idioms have persisted throughout the millennia, some known well enough to be understood by most dragonborns.

Everyone except Jungkook freezes on their spot. Their gazes snap on Taehyung.

“Taehyung,” Junhyun starts, cautious, “are you certain?”

Taehyung pushes himself off the wall. He grabs a hold of Jungkook’s chin to which Jungkook responds by gripping Taehyung’s wrist, his scowl everlasting. Taehyung discards it in favor of wiping his thumb at the corner of Jungkook’s mouth where a cut is carved. “‘Blood for blood’ is the translation of what I said," he explains to Jungkook. "It’s a saying uttered before a fight, usually to death.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “A challenge.”

“Precisely.” Taehyung retracts his hand. He wipes his thumb on Jungkook’s vest who bats his hand away. “You drew my husband’s blood, harassed him, threatened him, insulted him and so on. We can settle this in two different ways." 

Seungwon’s scent turns more and more acrid by the second. Taehyung revels in it with unabashed satisfaction. 

“One: a challenge where death or surrender is the only outcome. Two: your withdrawal from the Council.”

“I am a rightful member of the Council,” Seungwon snaps. “It’s my words against his. Against yours. You think dragonborns will believe you both over me?”

“How about a third option?” Jungkook interjects on Taehyung’s right.

Taehyung doesn’t want that third option. He doesn’t even care about the second either. All that matters is the first that can finally happen now that Jungkook has unknowingly given Taehyung a reason to challenge Seungwon. “Why a third when the first two suffice?”

“I’m the one whose blood has been spilled. I get to choose. Not you." Jungkook’s timber is steeled with a glacial resolution Taehyung wisely does not tamper with. 

Not that Taehyung is scared of Jungkook.

The human — warlock, he reminds himself — doesn’t represent any real danger in the technicalities of a necromancer versus chaos dragon, yet there is something in Taehyung’s survival instincts that ignites alive and tentatively asks him to let it go this one time.

“Get on your knees and apologize,” Jungkook says. “I have no care for trivial fights, and as you've said, I don’t retain any influence in your draconic council. So, kneel before me, and I’ll forget what happened today.”

“ Kneel? In front of you?” Seungwon spits a dribble of saliva at Jungkook’s feet. “I’ll have you wipe that spit before I ever kneel." 

“We can sort this through blood instead, if you prefer,” Taehyung offers.

Seungwon knows better. He may be more experienced than Taehyung, but Taehyung makes up for it with the high potency of his multiple breaths. 

“You fucking whor—”

“Call him that one more time and you won’t have a choice at all."

Seungwon barks out a laugh at Taehyung. “You already care about him? Thought you hated humans, huh?”

“Him and I are married. Any disrespect aimed at Jungkook is by extension directed at me. That is something I care about.” It makes sense in Taehyung's head. After all, he wouldn't care about defending Jungkook, right? 

Seungwon may be a buffoon, but he is not a naïve one unaware of his limited options, if his darting gaze is any hint. 

“You will regret this,” Seungwon warns, then growls something in draconian. “Each one of you.”

“Kneel,” is all that Jungkook says.

Seungwon’s face is as red as his furious eyes are. He bends a leg, then the second, and soon, he kneels before Jungkook, his gaze aimed ahead of him.

Jungkook looks down at Seungwon in every meaning of the word. His smile and half lidded eyes are brimming with a dark satisfaction, echoed in the hum he emits. The sound is chewed low and suave, sounding more like a cruel purr.

Anyone with a sliver of self-preservation would cower far from Amaris' heir in such circumstances. Yet all Taehyung can do is stare, take in the sight Jungkook makes, the danger the Prince can oppose. 

Taehyung is positively fascinated.

Seungwon rises to his feet seconds later, tearing Taehyung out of his daze. “This isn’t the end of this”

“Perhaps I should have kissed you as you were once begging for,” Jungkook muses. “I could have ripped off your tongue then.”

Seungwon somehow manages to repress the urge to punch Jungkook, his balled up fist lowering. He doesn’t speak a word when he spins and shoulders past Jimin with a warning snarl. He turns at a corner and leaves, his steps echoing in the quiet lull.

“He won’t like that at all,” Jimin says.

Taehyung scoffs. “Tough shit. He’ll get over it.” He glances at Jungkook who raises the ruby to press it against his mouth, murmuring soothing words to the basilisk in it. “Are you—”

“Why didn’t you intervene?” Jungkook cuts off.

“Does it matter now? It’s done.”

“It matters because you watched him hit. You stood there. I expected better from you, but I suppose I had my hopes up too much.”

“You what?” Jimin exclaims.

“Kim Taehyung.” Dahee slaps the back of Taehyung’s head. “You may not be fond of Jungkook, however displaying such behavior is as heartless as Seungwon or the humans you abhor.”

“Blood for blood,” Taehyung dismisses. “It was the perfect occasion to force a challenge, and I didn’t expect—”

“So you used him hitting me for your own gain?”

There it is. 

The churning, uncomfortable plunge in Taehyung’s chest.

“I didn’t— Not purposefully. It was a happenstance," Taehyung settles on replying. “I also assumed you had struck back already, and that you or the basilisk would again. Plus I did intervene eventually, didn’t I?”

Dahee passes by Taehyung to cup Jungkook’s cheeks. “Are you alright, my dear?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says but his head shakes 'no' in a nearly imperceptible motion.

Taehyung makes a move to grab Jungkook’s arm but the latter pulls himself away from Taehyung and Dahee. “You should clean up."

“Oh so you care now? Will you also offer your O so valuable help?”

“I just— I’d like to talk to you. If you let me."

Jungkook stares at Taehyung for a moment, as though searching for something in Taehyung’s eyes. Taehyung can’t tell if Jungkook has found the answer, but he swivels around and strides away from the group.

“Jimin, do you have—”

Jimin thrusts a jar of foundation against Taehyung’s chest. Jimin isn’t fond of makeup, but he has never gotten rid of the habit of carrying some with him wherever he goes.

“Be fucking nice to him, Taehyung,” Jimin warns. “I mean it.”

Taehyung wordlessly trails after Jungkook.

He finds him in a bathroom that he locks the door of in case some guests try to enter. 

The basilisk is out and laid on the counter, peering up at Jungkook while the latter is hunched over the sink, splashing the running water on his face. Taehyung searches in his vest’s pocket and plucks a small jar of antiseptic that he places on the counter along with the foundation.

“What’s this?”

“The same antiseptic pomade I gave you when you first arrived at Vanae. The other is some foundation Jimin uses.”

Jungkook frowns but retrieves the jars. “Why do you have that on you?”

“I work on the field and tend to get hurt. I always carry some with me just in case,” Taehyung answers and leans back against the sink’s counter.

Jungkook produces a tissue from his pocket that he wets and uses to wipe the blood off his mouth and nose. “Or maybe you don’t pay enough attention and keep hurting yourself when it should not happen.”

“Whatever, Viper.”

Jungkook’s scowl does not dissipate as he continues to clean his wounds, dabbing the antiseptic pomade on his lower lip. “Say, was it just for show as it always is with you?”

“About?”

“The challenge. Would it have happened? Or was that another acting class from the great Kim Taehyung?”

“Of course it would have.” 

Jungkook pauses in his movement to scrutinize him.

“Those challenges aren’t taken lightly, as I once told you.”

“You made it sound like something mundane.”

“They used to happen a lot before, but after the Great War, it was agreed upon that those challenges were to be uttered with caution. We couldn’t afford to lose more of us over trivial feuds."

“There’s nothing trivial with Seungwon.”

“I know, but those challenges happen very, very rarely. Even in cases when a dragonborn actively harms another one, it’s usually settled through the Council."

"And when they do happen, it's caused by what?"

"For example, Dragonborn N°1 is interested in mating a mated Dragonborn N°3, and so Dragonborn N°1 and N°2 will fight for N°3 if Three agrees.”

“Why would Two’s mate agree to this?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung shrugs. “Unhappy marriage, better assets. More money and influence. Maybe fear too. Humans are vain, but dragonborns can be as well.”

“What if the mate’s mate doesn’t care?” Jungkook's gaze locks with Taehyung. “Let’s say someone challenges you for me, would you fight?”

“It’d depend.”

“On what?”

“Our marriage isn’t one born from love, so in a case like this one, I wouldn’t fight for you, per se, but rather for what benefits I gain from being married to you, which is what most arranged marriages are about,” Taehyung honestly answers, perhaps too much so. “So the chances of me fighting the one who’d challenge me for you are high, unless I have a good reason not to.”

“I see,” Jungkook says with a cold temper. “That explains why you just watched and did nothing. Because it was useful to you. Because I was.”

“Something like that.”

The halfhearted admission leaves a bitter taste on Taehyung's tongue.

“You know,” Jungkook begins and tosses the bloodied tissue in the sink, “if you had told me about the blood for blood ordeal, if you had told me that this could be what it takes to get rid of Seungwon once and for all, I would’ve accepted without an ounce of hesitation. I can take a punch or two or three or more.”

“As I said, I didn’t not intervene with that thought in mind. I assumed you’d defend yourself,” Taehyung counters, the irritation swirling with the ever rising discomfort in his chest.

“It still took a punch for you to move.”

“I did nonetheless.”

“Don’t scheme behind my back, especially when I’m the one involved, whether it’s an afterthought or not. You don’t get to use me. Ever. I never was Seungwon's doll and I'm certainly not yours either.”

Taehyung’s gaze flits on Jungkook’s throat where some purple bruises are blooming. Seungwon’s grip around Jungkook’s neck has been a lot more bruising than Taehyung had realized: some of the sharp edges of the necklace have sunk into the skin and nipped it where the wing is, leaving a bruising imprint of the necklace and Seungwon’s fingers around Jungkook’s throat.

The realization that the writhing discomfort is a growing guilt is sudden, odd in its viciousness aimed at Taehyung. 

Taehyung does not experience guilt very often, let alone for a human. Kija and his family have always been the only exception to this. He has always been the kind to apologize and correct his mistakes, rather than dwell on his feelings. 

So Taehyung is lost. 

He doesn’t know how to navigate the riddling guilt, nor what to do to make it go away.

“I should have stopped him earlier.”

“Yes. You should have. You told me to come to you if Seungwon does anything to me, and yet when something did occur, how did you react? With indifference, Taehyung. You've done nothing. Your words are worthless promises,” Jungkook says with a tired chuckle. “God knows safety isn’t something I’ve known very often, but when you said you'd be there for me if— Doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t think about your position. I genuinely assumed you’d hit him back or have the basilisk bite him.” Taehyung peers at the snake that hisses and sniffs the jar of antiseptic.

“Her name is Revna, and I wanted to, but I can’t stab Seungwon like a madman and risk everything.”

“Yeah.” Taehyung averts his eyes. “I’m realizing that now.”

“You’re an idiot.”

The dragon necklace clangs on the ceramic of the sink when Jungkook removes it to start cleaning the bruises around his throat.

Neither of them speaks for a while, but the terseness is broken by Jungkook who conceals the traces Seungwon has left behind on his skin.

“Apologies truly are your worst nemesis.”

“It’s not easy for me to apologize to a human, whether they deserve it or not.”

“Oh boohoo. The great Kim Taehyung is too prideful to apologize.”

“This isn’t about my damn pride."

“Then what? You can be so bigoted sometimes with your hatred for humans. I’m trying really, really hard to be understanding about it, despite the fact that I don’t have to at all. I know something must have happened to you that was obviously provoked by humans but— But God. You make it more and more difficult to evince any kind of empathy for you.” Jungkook finishes his tirade with the click of the antiseptic jar that he closes shut.

“You don’t understand.”

“Because you refuse to talk.” Jungkook's gaze bores into the side of Taehyung’s head. “Because you can’t open up about anything, whether it be mundane matters or more personal ones. Our discussion in the solarium still feels like a fevered dream. I’ve been understanding and patient with you, and all you've given me in return is indifference and scorn.”

Taehyung has half a mind to exit the bathroom. Maybe the guilt will stop then.

“It’s not that easy," Taehyung says.

“Maybe, but you don’t even try. This is what annoys me the most. We’re married now, whether you accept it or not. We’ve been living together for over a month, and while it's been fairly cordial due to a mutual ignorance, you could at least help me understand why it's not easy for you. But you prefer deflecting. Rejecting. I know humans are horrible, and have been since the beginning of time, but I'm— I'm not them and—"

Jungkook pauses and when he doesn’t continue, Taehyung peers at him, their gazes meeting. 

“You know about me. I’ve given you the two most important tokens in my life, but even with those, you don’t trust me enough to not be a complete ass to me and I just— I don’t understand you, and I don’t know if I want to anymore.”

“Nothing was done to my family,” Taehyung rushes to say because a sense of urgency swells in him, one that he doesn't understand the origin of. “It happened to me.” The admission is caustic on his tongue. “S'why no one beside me can understand or relate, which is fine. I don’t expect you to. I know my hatred for humans became irrational but I can’t help it, and I don’t care enough to change anything about it.”

Jungkook sighs. His eyes drift low where his hands are fiddling with the dragon necklace. “Have you ever talked about what happened to anyone?” 

Taehyung shakes his head. The shame had always been too grand. The fear too. 

“Not even your parents or Jimin?”

Taehyung shrugs. Aside from Minsoo, Taehyung had refused to let any member of his family see him for the first few weeks of his convalescence

The look Jungkook fixates Taehyung with is unmistakably exasperated. 

“What?”

“When something bad happens to you, if you bottle everything up for years, healing from it can be really difficult. Especially for emotionally constipated people like you. No wonder you’re such a prick.”

“Fuck off.”

“You should talk about it. It’s freeing.”

Taehyung doubts he can ever be freed from his nightmares. They’ve carved scars that were engraved within him for far too long.

“You should,” Jungkook insists.

Perhaps, but Taehyung won’t. “Maybe another day.”

“Have you found them again? Those who did what they've done to you.”

“No.”

Jungkook’s eyes lose a bit of their edge. “That must be scary.”

It’s terrifying, Taehyung thinks but does not say.

Sometimes so much so that, because he’s too worried of waking up in an unknown room, sleeping becomes an impossible feat, leaving him unable to rest for days until he eventually passes out from fatigue. Other times Taehyung can’t bear the idea of being in his human form and so he stays in his dragon one, feeling safer this way. 

Taehyung does not think he’d survive the same nightmare again.

“Revna doesn’t need to sleep,” Jungkook says, scratching the basilisk’s chin who erupts into a series of clicks of the tongue. “But when she does, it’s always with an eye open, so she’s a really good guard.”

Taehyung wordlessly surveys Jungkook as the latter raves about the basilisk who seems to appreciate the attention because she nibbles on Jungkook’s wrist and rubs her snout against it.

“Why am I saying this when I’m supposed to be rightfully mad at you. Prick,” Jungkook mutters after a couple minutes. “Making me worry and care when you don’t deserve it with how you’ve been with me and—”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s strange, how the words aren't as bitter as he had expected them to be. Instead, they're quite relieving, and the tightness in Taehyung’s chest alleviates the slightest bit.

Jungkook is frozen next to Taehyung. He stares. Then he blinks before staring some more.

Awkwardness rises at the endless silence. 

“Why—”

Jungkook has the same look he had worn when Taehyung had proposed a discussion about each other’s physical boundaries. Taehyung still can’t decipher it, but the exact same words come to his mind as Jungkook visibly softens.

Then, a sly, teasing smile tugs at Jungkook’s lips. “Now,” he starts with an overly sweet voice, “it wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Taehyung’s muscles that had tensed unwind. “Considering that saying it burnt my tongue, I’m not so sure,” he dramatizes with a certain goal in mind that comes to fruition when Jungkook relaxes.

“You’re an idiot,” Jungkook huffs. “Do you mean it? Or did you apologize to ease your guilty conscience?”

“Both.”

"Mostly the former or the latter? Or is it equal?"

Taehyung gnaws on the inside of his cheek. "Mostly the former."

“That’s progress. Thank you.”

Taehyung’s nose wrinkles. “You’re not supposed to say thank you to someone apologizing.”

“Have you ever heard of communication, Taehyung? You should try it sometimes.”

Taehyung ignores the jab to say “You’re done?”

“I think I covered everything except the back of my neck. Can you check it, please?”

Taehyung shuffles behind Jungkook. Some scratches and lingering imprints of Seungwon's fingers mark Jungkook’s nape. Taehyung forsakes the pinch near his heart in favor of taking the wet napkin and carefully swapping it across the faint wounds. 

Taehyung isn’t a very tactile man. He does not embrace or kiss — although he doesn’t mind when his parents or Jimin hug him. He likes the affection from his family, but he never goes out of his way to seek it, able to happily live without it.

So when he presses his index and middle finger on Jungkook’s nape to smear the antiseptic pomade across Jungkook’s skin that is, akin to his hair, unexpectedly soft, Taehyung is stiff. The last time Taehyung had a physical contact with a human had been nothing remotely close to the calm and gentleness that happens here. 

It's as alien as it is unnerving.

He waits for a shoe or knife to drop. For blood and violence to implode. For someone to barge in because everything has been a ploy since the very first day.

Yet none of that occurs.

Instead, Jungkook hums a lullaby to himself as he converses with the basilisk, the latter responding in her own language to him.

“This feels nice,” Jungkook confesses, who grants Taehyung a vulnerability the dragonborn could only dream of mustering. 

“What does?”

Jungkook’s shoulders shake. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue. “Tell me.”

“No. You’d know if you weren’t so oblivious.”

Taehyung is about to respond when he feels the way Jungkook’s skin pebbles under the pulp of his fingers. He pauses. His brows further knit.

Had Jungkook been referring to Taehyung’s touch?

Taehyung discards the absurd thought to focus back on his task. The foundation mingles perfectly with Jungkook’s skin tone as Taehyung spreads it to cover the bruises. He glances at the mirror when he feels watched. “What?”

“Nothing. Just admiring my husband’s beauty.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes as Jungkook chuckles. “Shut up.”

“I mean it,” Jungkook exclaims. “Sometimes it randomly hits me how handsome you are in spite of all the…” He makes a vague motion of his hand.

Taehyung finishes his task with a glower. “All the what?”

“All of that. Exactly this,” Jungkook says and points at the mirror. 

Taehyung does not zap Jungkook but he does give him a stony look as he washes his hands in the sink. 

“Back in the ruby, Lovely. We’re leaving soon, and I'll let you out then, alright?” The basilisk petulantly snorts but obeys the request, vanishing inside her temporary ‘room’. “What about me?” Jungkook continues.

“Huh?”

“Am I handsome?”

Taehyung makes a face that hopefully comes off as a grimace.

“I saw that!”

“As I hoped so.” Taehyung summons his fire arcane to dry his hands. When he turns around, the acute point of a blade is presented to him. His gaze slowly drags upward to rest on Jungkook's face.

“Tell me I’m pretty,” Jungkook commands. The basilisk rests her head atop Jungkook’s, peering down at Taehyung. Taehyung arches a brow, unimpressed. “I still have the dagger.”

“That I can see.”

“So tell me I’m pretty.”

Taehyung makes a quick job of forming his own ‘blade’ with a dense and sharp wind that he envelops around two of his fingers. He slashes the dagger in a swift motion, half of it clattering on the bathroom’s tiles.

“You’re such a prick,” Jungkook laments and throws what’s left of the dagger in a bin. 

“You’re married to that prick now."

“Technically, I married two pricks.”

It takes a few embarrassing seconds for Taehyung’s brain to process what Jungkook's jest, but when he does he says “Oh fuck off.”

Jungkook makes his way toward the exit door while snickering, Taehyung trailing after him. Jungkook unlocks the door but before he opens it, his head turns to watch Taehyung, his tone and expression somber. “You may repeat over and over again how you don’t care about me, which I can understand, but when my safety is endangered, no matter how much I can protect myself, I expect my husband to not simply stand there.”

Taehyung leans forward as he tilts his head to the side, a taunting smile on his lips. “But you were doing so well on your own, Viper.” It comes out more playful than derisive, to his dismay.

“At least get me a dagger, and only then will I forgive your inaction,” Jungkook fires. He twirls on his feet and swings the door open to exit the bathroom.

“Fucking viper.”

Jungkook’s head peeks through the doorway. “A rattlesnake would shake its tail in warning. I don’t. It would do you well to remember that."

“You’re threatening me now?” Taehyung says when he reaches Jungkook as the two of them walk side by side.

“No. A warning is different than a threat.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not and you’re just being your usual shrewd self.”

“Aww, a new thing you’re learning about me,” Jungkook croons and holds onto Taehyung’s arm. “But yes, maybe I am. On another note, how will you make up to me for the wounds I got tonight?”

“Why should I make up for it? I’m not the one who hurt you.”

Jungkook scowls at him, then his lips purse around a mumble. “Offer me something.”

“Like?”

“An outing. You could take me to a spot you like, somewhere high up.”

“You’re afraid of heights.” Taehyung shushes Jungkook’s incoming teasing with a glare.

“I’m learning not to be anymore."

It feels like a loaded answer for some reasons, one that Taehyung considers for a moment.

Taehyung sighs moments later. “Sure.”

“Really?!”

“Until you reacted like that, yes.”

Jungkook tweaks Taehyung’s arm. “Yes or no?”

“I said yes.” Taehyung supposes conceding an hour of two of his time for this should be bearable.

They soon arrive in the corridor leading inside the ballroom. 

The party is still well on its way. The music is louder, the mindless chattering too as Taehyung and Jungkook approach.

“Jimin told me you both have a lot of favorite spots in the mountains. I think your grandfather lives over there, right? I haven’t met him yet, but do you think that…”

The rest of Jungkook’s question never reaches Taehyung’s ears. It’s swallowed by a scent, one that Taehyung could recognize amidst thousands more.

Taehyung stops dead in his tracks.

It’s uncanny how the fear doesn’t manifest itself at first, but rather a sense of calmness rooted in confusion. It’s punctuated by the prickle he has felt at the back of his neck throughout the night, however sharper now. Slowly, bell after bell after bell rings in his head.

The last time Taehyung had caught a whiff of this rancid mint and bitter coal had been mingled with the taste of blood suffusing every single one of his senses.

Yet it’s here again, six years later.

Taehyung’s feet lock, rooted on the ground. His eyes snap in any and every direction from the part of the ballroom he can see. 

The place seems to have shrunk, feeling ten times smaller. Suffocating. He tries to look for a face he can place on the fetid scent, however his memories are jumbled together in a mess he has never been able to extricate himself from or—

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung startles. 

He can’t find Jimin or his parents. Everything's drowned by the scent. It seems to become more potent as the seconds elapse, as though the person behind it is moving closer to Taehyung.

The palpitations begin, growing erratic and uneven, a dichotomy to how immobile Taehyung remains. His arcane flares alive, at least, ready to lash out the second it needs to.

Taehyung is torn out of his stupor by his fire breath that collects in his throat, swirling there. 

He forces his legs to move but they're refusing to budged, he's trapped again and — 

His legs move, eventually, coaxed by the urgency to increase the distance between him and the nearing scent. 

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to raise a foot and place it behind his other one as he walks backward, deeper into the corridor and away from the ballroom. It’s only once he deems it safe enough to turn his back that he does so and races up the staircase.

Taehyung needs to get out of here right now.

They might be looking for him. Again. It’s the only reason why the man with the scent would be here and this time, Taehyung won’t let it happen. He’d rather die than be with him once more.

Taehyung isn’t sure how he got there, but he’s suddenly inside a room with bay windows and a glass door. He rushes toward it but before he can swing it open, fingers grab his elbow. 

Taehyung swivels around. One of his hands balls up into a fist, ready to smash across the captor’s face while his other hand flies to the perpetrator’s throat, about to squeeze and squeeze and sque—

“It’s me."

Taehyung blinks to chase away the blurriness in his eyes. 

“It’s just me, Taehyung,” the perpet— Jungkook. Jungkook says. 

It’s Jungkook. 

“It’s me.”

“I’m sor—" Taehyung immediately relents his grip. "I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m sorry. I was calling you but you didn’t seem to hear or see me at all…” Jungkook calmly says, unaware or uncaring of how closely he has brushed shoulders with death. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

Taehyung doesn’t let himself be consumed yet, whether it be by guilt or fear. He turns to grab the handle of the glass door and he must use more strength than necessary because it bends between his fingers as the glass shatters into pieces. 

The winter air is cold against his ignited skin as he marches onto the balcony. The crunches of shoes stepping onto the glass follow him.

“Taehyung, what’s wrong?”

“I’m leaving." The scent is only a lingering presence now, but Taehyung doesn’t know for how long.

“What?”

“I’m leaving. I’m not staying here wh— I’m leaving.”

Taehyung peers outside.

The garden looks deserted. The forest surrounding it too.

Taehyung’s body jerks to turn into his dragon counterpart but he halts. 

For all he knows, this is a bait to prompt him to leave. To isolate him and make him more vulnerable for an ambush. By leaving, Taehyung may do exactly what he wants.

“Wait. Taehyung.”

“Fucking shit.” If only he could find his family—

“What happened?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Nothing.” 

He paces around. 

Staying is risky. Looking for his family or leaving also is. His eyes dart from the garden to the building.

He’s cornered. 

One scent is all it takes to render him useless and cowardly, to make him unable to do anything, whether it be running away or stopping the tremors that run through his limbs.

“Fuck.” Taehyung raises a hand to his mouth when his fire breath rekindles in his throat.

“Is one of the humans here?”

Taehyung glances at Jungkook.

An internal debate swirls in him. Taehyung knows Jungkook has nothing to do with the nightmare he had gone through years ago. However, rationality evades his mind. The nagging voice won’t stop talking, hissing into his ears that anyone who isn’t his family is a potential threat.

“If you can’t trust me, you can trust Kija. Nothing about that night was a ploy to gain something from you. Plus I promised him I’d take care of you,” Jungkook says with a small smile, “even if you’ll deny needing any of it. Just… Let me help?”

Taehyung exhales against his hand, anchoring on the sting his nails elicit when they bite into the skin of his jaw. “There’s— There’s this smell. It was there back then. It was the exact same one, I know I’m not mistaking it for another. I know it. But I can’t find Jimin or my parents or anyone I can trust here to leave with and I don’t even know if I should leave or not because I could be playing right into their games if I do and—”

“Wait.” Jungkook raises his hands but drops them when it prompts Taehyung to take a step back. “What smell? Can you describe it to me?”

“You won’t detect it. You don’t have heightened senses."

“I don’t, but Revna does,” Jungkook answers, the basilisk draped around his shoulders. “She can track anyone.”

Taehyung hesitates for a moment but he eventually says “Rotten mint and coal. It’s— It’s peculiar and disgusting. It’s hard to miss.”

“You heard that, Lovely? Is the human a man?” 

Taehyung nods. 

“Alright. You’ve got everything you need?” Jungkook asks the basilisk who nudges Jungkook’s cheek then slides down his arm to slither underneath his vest. “Can you wait here for a few minutes?”

“Five minutes.” And then Taehyung will either be gone or crash through the ballroom to find his family.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says with a sigh that sounds relieved for some reason. “Wait for me.”

“Five minutes.”

“Ten? And if I’m not there by then, you can just leave.”

“Seven.”

Jungkook wordlessly exits the room.

Taehyung does not move from where he’s pacing on the balcony. 

He counts in his head, going through his breaths to appease himself. There’s a staccato in his chest, more or less audible but always felt whenever he goes through the imaginary roulette of his arcane. It’s familiar and comforting, and so he focuses on it as he waits, his gaze drifting between the closed doors and garden.

Five minutes have passed. Still nothing.

Taehyung’s muscles are aching, his shoulders too, flexing and relaxing every few seconds.

Two more minutes go by, and Taehyung leaps off the balcony. 

He summons his wings out, not reverting to his full dragon form yet. He flies up along the wall. He’ll have a better view on the rooftop, and he’ll be able to enter the ballroom from the outside rather than from a narrow corridor.

On his way up, he passes by what seems to be an office.

He recognizes Jungkook’s voice coming from inside, along with Seohyung and Sungmin. Unseen, Taehyung crouches atop the head of the window and listens.

“Why?” Seohyung asks.

“I know some things about him that you don’t,” Jungkook replies. “I want him gone.”

Him? Is ‘him’ Taehyung? It wouldn’t make sense though, right? They’re married now, so why would Jungkook—

“It isn’t that easy now.”

“I don’t care."

“Your tone, Jungkook,” Sungmin reprimands.

“You haven’t seen how callous and cruel he can be, unlike I have.” Jungkook is facing both of his parents. “You know nothing, as usual.”

Taehyung’s hands clench into fists, his teeth gritting together.

“He has to stay here. You have asked enough with Seungwon."

“I let it slide for Seungwon, who should not be here to begin with,” Jungkook says. 

Taehyung straightens up, about to fly off.

“However, Dohyun is where I draw the line.”

Taehyung pauses, his ire fizzling out.

Dohyun.

The name is unknown to Taehyung. 

“What line? You’ve never interacted with that man before.”

“It’s a fairly simple equation: Dohyun bothers Taehyung, so I want him gone."

“Dragonborns are changing you for the worse,” Seohyung snips with unbridled enmity. “Kim’s horrible son is.”

“Have Dohyun and whoever he came with leave. I want to see it happen with my own eyes. If you somehow allow him back inside or let him wander in the garden or forest…" Jungkook trails off. "Simply… Don’t.”

Seohyung stalks closer to her son. “This is the second time you have threatened us tonight, Jungkook."

“I’m doing my duties as Taehyung’s husband, one of them ensuring his well-being and happiness. Isn’t that what you want?” Jungkook smiles, sweet yet full of a dark promise.

A silence floats in the desk room.

Too restless to remain in the same place for too long, Taehyung resumes his flight up to the rooftop. Nothing seems out of the ordinary up there, but he knows better than to be lulled into a sense of security by a veneer of peacefulness.

Taehyung flies back to the room he had been in minutes ago. It’s still empty, devoid of a prince and his basilisk.

He wills away his wings as he drops down on the bed. His senses are on edge, flitting to every smell, shift in the air or sound that occurs. So when he catches a familiar pitter-patter, he recognizes it as Jungkook's footsteps

The door opens.

Jungkook enters and shuts the door behind him, a tad breathless. “You’re still here."

“Is he gone?”

“He is. I watched him leave. I waited until he was deep into the forest before coming back here. He left in a carriage along with two men. One of the horses was white and the other brown,” Jungkook describes and crosses the distance to sit next to Taehyung, however feet away. “I remember his face along with those of the two men with him, and Revna cataloged their scents, so she’ll be able to recognize them if need be. I don’t know the names of the other two men, but they might be in the compendium we have at the house, and if not, it shouldn’t be too difficult to find their names.”

Taehyung breathes a little easier. His arcane lessens in his chest, subsided to a calmer storm, however his body is still straining with uncertainty, unsure on if he should fly away or stay.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I’m not feeling worse.” Taehyung rolls his sore shoulders, hunched forward.

“Do you want to go downstairs? Or would you rather stay here? Or leave?”

Taehyung wants to say that making a decision right now is nigh impossible, but he reverts back to a safer yet unjustified snark. “Don’t start coddling me because you've seen me weak.”

“One: there’s a difference between coddling and taking care of someone. Two: being afraid doesn’t make you weak.”

“It does. It’s cowardly.”

“It doesn't. It’s survival instincts. It’s smart. Plus everyone has weaknesses. You do. I do. That Dohyun guy does as well. You're not that special, Taehyung.” Jungkook's eyes have a hint of playfulness in them when Taehyung peers at him.

Taehyung lowers his head as he exhales. His fingers tightly intertwine in an effort to fruitlessly abate their trembling.

A hiss erupts on his left from where Jungkook is sitting, and sure enough, the raven basilisk’s head appears in his peripheral vision.

“Revna, leave him alone,” Jungkook chastises. The basilisk turns her head to snuff at him. Jungkook tuts. “Speak better to me.”

Revna approaches Taehyung, soon reaching his thigh. She peers up at him with her round, carmine eyes, her tongue darting out every now and then. It’s as though she’s waiting for something. Taehyung isn't certain of what, but she must find her answers when Taehyung does not reject her when she slithers on his lap.

“She’s been worried about you,” Jungkook confides.

The basilisk’s cold snout bumps against the back of Taehyung’s clasped hands. Her head squeezes between his wrists. She curls over his left forearm to slide underneath the right one. Then, after a quick glance at Taehyung, she tentatively rests her head above his hands.

He should be more concerned of having a deadly basilisk cuddling up to him. He should be frightened, really, yet the serpent’s presence; the weight of her head on his hands, the coldness of the silky scales and her sporadic hiss; are grounding.

The trembles in his hands are gone, Taehyung realizes minutes later.

“I can take her away if you want,” Jungkook offers. The basilisk cracks an eye open and shows her fangs to Jungkook. “Revna.”

“It’s fine,” Taehyung rasps.

“She’s very protective, as you've seen. It took a lot of convincing for her to not lash out on Seungwon or Dohyun."

The door swings open before Taehyung can answer. 

He springs on his feet, his arcane immediately settling on the force aspect, ready to implode whoever is entering the room.

Jimin barges inside. Dahee and Junhyun are next along with Jungkook’s friends, and relief erupts within Taehyung, dizzying.

“Taehyung!” Jimin rushes to Taehyung’s side, patting his face, shoulders and chest. “Are you okay? Were you hurt? Jungkook asked us to come upstairs so I went to look for the parents but it took me some time to find them, they were outside and— Is the guy gone?”

“He is,” Jungkook reassures.

“My son.” Junhyun quickly walks toward Taehyung to touch his back, Dahee on his toes. “Are you well?”

“Yeah, I just—” Taehyung extracts himself from his father and Jimin to take a step back. “Need to get out of here but I don’t know if it’s safe.”

“This Dohyun rat, was he part of them?” Dahee asks. 

Taehyung nods. "He has to be the man with the scent."

“I see. I see, my son.” The room falls quiet at the sharpness of Dahee's tone. Her fury is palpable, but it does not translate in her movements when she gently cups Taehyung’s cheeks. “We will find him, and if it is what you desire, we will bring him to you.”

“It… probably wouldn’t be to talk, right?” Namjoon pipes up, awkwardly standing at the entrance door.

Jungkook groans an ‘Oh my God’ while Jimin and Junhyun chuckles.

“Yes. It most definitely would not be to have a civil chat with him, Namjoon,” Dahee pointedly says.

“There might be more of them outside,” Taehyung resumes, impatient to leave.

“What is going on?” Jungkook’s warlock friend says.

“There’s, uh, some guy. Terrible guy, really. I had him…” Jungkook makes a shooing motion. “Kicked out. Discreetly.”

“And I suppose Taehyung is the one who asked, isn’t he?” Yoongi says. “Who's to say he isn't the 'terrible guy' in the scenario? He had no qualms breaching Jungkook's privacy, after all.”

Dahee's words curl with an accent proper to draconian. “Careful how you speak of my son, warlock."

“The same son that has been treating Jungkook like scum for the majority of their engagement,” Yoongi fires back.

Jungkook sighs. "Trust me on this, Yoongi."

A hiss erupts in the room, and Yoongi’s eyes flicker on Taehyung’s chest.

It brings back to Taehyung's attention the basilisk that has entirely wrapped around one of his arms, her head sniffing at the pendant dangling between his collarbones. Taehyung peers at Jungkook. “Can you…” He motions toward the snake.

Jungkook retrieves a reluctant basilisk who, in protest, falls limp in his hold when he unwraps her from Taehyung’s arm. “You’re such a dramatic brat,” he chuckles when the basilisk lazily gnaws on one of his fingers.

“If you want to leave,” Dahee resumes, “we could tell the guests the both of you have disappeared to… have your fun.”

Taehyung makes a moue at the connotation, but he’d take anything to not be here anymore, and so he agrees.

“That would work. No one would question their absence then for the dance since they’re newlyweds,” Namjoon muses.

The group converses some more about the technicalities. Jimin proposes to escort Taehyung and Jungkook toward their suite at the second citadel while the rest will remain here to handle the Queen and King and warn the guests of the departure.

A raven materializes in a swirl of ink that spills out of Yoongi’s hand. The bird flutters to land on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Take this one with you in case something comes up. It’ll last for 24 hours.”

Jungkook nods with a smile and scratches the underside of the raven’s chin.

Taehyung watches with brief amusement the way the basilisk shows her fangs to the raven before reverting inside the ruby. “Let's move."

“I have to pick up my stuff. I’ll join you in a few,” Jimin warns before jogging through the entrance doors, followed by the rest of the group.

“Well.” Jungkook pauses next to Taehyung once they're both on the balcony. He peers at the garden, several three stories away from them. “I don’t have wings, unfortunately, so I can’t make that jump without breaking my legs in the same process.” 

Taehyung grabs Jungkook by the waist and unceremoniously throws him over his shoulder. 

“Taehyung!”

Taehyung vaults over the balcony and summons his wings mid fall while Jungkook mutters something about not being a sack of potatoes. He flies toward the back of the castle where no one is and he lands there, resting a frowning Jungkook on his feet.

Jungkook punches Taehyung’s chest. “You have got to stop doing that.”

“How else am I supposed to carry you?” Taehyung studies his surroundings, on high alert as he waits for Jimin to arrive.

“Bridal style is a good start. And it’s fitting."

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung’s head twists toward the feminine, raspy voice. He promptly bows when he sees the Elder, seemingly on her way out as well. “Elder Miseon, thank you for officiating the wedding. It was an hon—”

“Now, now,” the Elder crosses the distance to pat Taehyung’s head. “None of this, my child.”

Taehyung straightens up, Jungkook by his side and hooking his arm around Taehyung’s. “I was taken aback to see you there.”

“It was a fortunate happenstance.” Elder Miseon's laugh rings in the quietude in a rhythmic staccato. “I was to visit Amaris this week and presumed the wedding would prove itself to be a needed distraction.”

“Were you perhaps visiting for some important matter with the Queen and King?” Jungkook wonders.

“No.” Elder Miseon's timber sobers, however her smile remains. “A draconic matter. None related to Amaris.” 

Taehyung’s eyes widen. 

The plague?

“Why here? I thought—” Taehyung glances at Jungkook. “I thought we had time.”

“It is about an old excavation,” Miseon answers.

“I see."

“Nothing for you to worry about. Nor you,” Elder Miseon adds with a glance in Jungkook’s direction, “who is attentively listening.”

“I do enjoy solving mysteries. This one’s my favorite as of late." Jungkook points at Taehyung who bats his hand away.

“You may be of aid in the future, perhaps,” the Elder agrees, an amused glint in her eyes. “I must take my leave, lest the matter is found by an unfortunate passerby.”

“Of course. Thank you for tonight, once more,” Taehyung says with another small bow. He would usually be vibrating in excitement at meeting one of the most prestigious and loved Elders, but Taehyung is too skittish, restless to be as far away from the castle as he can.

The Elder kindly smiles at him and Jungkook, and with a wink thrown in their way, she turns to her dragon self and flies off.

Jimin arrives a few seconds later, already in his dragon form. Taehyung does not waste another second to join his friend in his dragon counterpart. After allowing Jungkook to climb on his talon, his wings swing up and down, the three of them flying toward the second citadel.

The nuptial room is vast, with a small opened kitchen on the left side and an en suite bathroom that Taehyung had already claimed to take a brisk shower. He'd felt too unsafe to unwind in a long bath, however being in a castle far enough from the citadel has quelled down some of his anstiness.

Jungkook has been locked inside the bathroom for the past half hour, his muffled arguing with the basilisk floating to the bedroom.

Jungkook has been acting a bit strange since he and Taehyung have arrived here. 

The Prince is tense, for lack of a better word. It's as though Taehyung's restlessness has been transferred onto Jungkook now that Taehyung is feeling more relaxed.

When Jungkook exits the bathroom, it's with a slump in his shoulders that is contradicted by the resolution in his eyes. He's wearing silky, red pajamas, his damp hair messily falling over his forehead.

Taehyung stands from where he'd been sitting on a chair. He closes the windows, needing to do something to drive him away from the growing unease. He catches in the corner of his eyes the way Jungkook reclines against the wall near the entrance door.

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung's fingers still. “What?”

“Do you—” Jungkook’s lips press into a thin line. His gaze locks onto Taehyung, then he says “Do you want to consume the wedding?”

“What?”

“Do you want to consume the wedding,” Jungkook reiterates, although it sounds more like an accusation this time. “Have sex. Whether now or later.”

It hadn't crossed Taehyung's mind once since he had agreed to the marriage. “Do you want to consume it?” Is Jungkook interested in that? He has never shown any signs toward it.

“I'm asking you.”

“And I you.”

“What I want doesn't matter.”

“It certainly does with this since you'd be involved. What the fuck are you on about?” Taehyung walks toward the kitchen counter to lean against it, ankles crossed. “What you want matters, it simply doesn't to me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that if you want bread you can have it, but I won't go out of my way to get it for you if you ask.”

Jungkook’s mouth parts around a quiet sound. “That was a weirdly good metaphor.”

“Now, asking again, do you want to consume the wedding?”

Jungkook quietly surveys Taehyung for a moment. The basilisk’s head drifts from left to right, her gaze darting between Taehyung and Jungkook. 

“It depends,” Jungkook eventually answers.

“On what?”

“What will happen if I say no,” Jungkook answers, and Taehyung does not even try to hide his shock. “As I once said, Seohyung and Sungmin tasked me with doing everything in my power to, ah, keep my husband ‘happy and satisfied’. That, of course, extends to sex. There’s a reason why I had to ‘preserve myself’ for my future suitor, so to say,” he derides with a twist of his mouth and averts his eyes.

“I won’t ever force myself on you. I’m not— By the Elders, I’m not that kind of man.”

“I wasn’t necessarily referring to this in particular, or consent. You wouldn’t force yourself on me, I know that. This isn’t what I’m— I don’t know how to explain.” Jungkook rubs his palms over his face.

“Is this what happened with Seungwon?” Taehyung wouldn’t be surprised if an occurrence like this may have prompted the ear biting event.

“No, thankfully.” Jungkook pushes himself off the wall to sit on the bed. “I was sent to Seungwon's home at the time to assess our compatibility. One day his hands had been too adventurous for my taste and had gone too high up my thighs. So I told him off for it and pushed him away. He didn’t like it. He hit me. I didn’t like it.”

Taehyung should have done more to the dragonborn than break a wrist. “What happened after?”

“I pretended," Jungkook says with a cheeky smile. "Long story short, the night after he slapped me was the one where I bit his ear off. I assumed he would perhaps understand me better through a more drastic message.”

“Should’ve ripped his fucking face off,” Taehyung snips. “Disgusting pig. He’s worse than I ever thought and Elders know I’ve never held him in high regards.”

“It wasn’t anything bad,” Jungkook dismisses. He shuffles on the bed to crawl up toward the headboard and lays there. The basilisk follows suit, curling into a ball above Jungkook’s navel. “Just a hand on my lower back, and then a tad too high on my thigh.”

“It is bad the second someone touches you in ways you don’t want. There isn’t any ‘just’ in that, Viper.”

Jungkook tilts his head, pensively peering at Taehyung. “Yes, that is true.”

Taehyung wonders what could be done about Seungwon. The dragonborn has to be locked or incapacitated in some ways, preferably sooner.

“So you don’t want to consume the wedding?”

“No." Sex does not matter to Taehyung and never has. “Do you?”

“No.”

“Great. One of the very few things we’ll agree on.”

“I suppose,” Jungkook says through a yawn.

Only one king sized bed is there, which makes sense in a nuptial room, but it still annoys Taehyung that he has to lay down next to Jungkook if he wants to sit somewhere more comfortable. 

Taehyung does anyway as he trudges toward the mattress and flops on the right side of it, Jungkook on his left. He won’t fall asleep at all, not with the putrid scent lingering in his head, but he might as well get some rest.

After perhaps half an hour of blankly staring at the ceiling, Taehyung heaves a deep sigh.

He can't unwind at all. Something is still bothering him.

Jungkook has made himself comfortable on the bed, nestled beneath the blankets.

“If someone does anything to you that you don’t want—”

“I should tell you so you won’t do anything and watch?”

“I apologized for that already. And it won’t happen again,” Taehyung mutters. “But you should tell someone, or at least bite them off and let her do the same. Actually, you could commission a dagger from Jimin. Probably should.”

The room falls quiet while Taehyung loses himself in his own mind.

Taehyung is convinced that Dohyun — if it truly is the name of the man with the scent — must have had a reason to be at the wedding. Perhaps born from this craving to torment. Or maybe to send a message.

A warning.

“I can hear your mind twisting and turning.”

“Yours would be too in my case."

“And what is your case?”

“Imagine someone you hate does something to you. You think they’ve been gone for years, but suddenly they appear ag—” Taehyung halts.

Jungkook snorts. “Your case sounds a tad similar to mine with Seungwon.”

That Taehyung has realized amidst his explanation.

Taehyung thinks of the now uncovered bruises on Jungkook’s throat. The guilt rears its ugly head but he shoves it down. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Jungkook burrows half of his face in the crook of his folded arms, his words muffled. “Your case is worse than mine though.”

“Pain is relative.”

Quietness wraps around them for a while.

It's only when Taehyung feels this now familiar stare on him that he speaks again. "What?"

“You’re a yarn of mystery, Kim Taehyung.” Jungkook’s eyes are too honest again, full of an interest and something else that seems coy with the way he hides more of his face, only his eyes and top of the head peeking out. “Every time I believe I have unraveled you, you form another bow.”

“Can’t tell if it’s good or bad.”

“It’s good. Really good… You’re an enigma.” Jungkook's voice is quiet, slow and mellow. “You’re emotionally stunted, yet you can be emotionally smart in a simple way. You’re cold and distant, yet you can be warm and caring in your own quiet way. You abhor humans, yet you were kind toward Sohee.”

“What does all of that mean?”

“You wouldn’t go out of your way to get me bread, but if you visit a market for something you need where they sell bread, you’d get me a loaf.”

Those bread metaphors are as stupid as they are understandable. 

“That doesn’t clarify anything."

The blanket shakes above Jungkook’s shoulders, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re full of contradictions. It's unexpectedly endearing. And sometimes infuriating too.”

Taehyung has always considered himself as someone simple, with straightforward needs and desires, however he's aware of how the chaos within him can make it difficult for others to understand him, let alone appreciate him. So Taehyung is taken aback by the uncanny prince once more, who is not part of his family, yet appears to know Taehyung so much more than any other dragonborn peers. Jungkook even goes as far as accepting the flaws that make Taehyung, even if he playfully admonishes him every now and then

Jungkook seems to want to know more in spite of everything.

It’s new.

New and—

“Have I shocked you speechless, husband of mine?”

Taehyung glares at Jungkook. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not, Husband? Would you prefer a sweeter adjective to precede the word? Maybe Handsome Husband? Pretty Husband? Lovely Hus—”

Taehyung flicks a zap of lightning on Jungkook’s forehead and pushes himself off the bed. “You’re obnoxious.” He needs some distance from the Prince who elicits a feeling akin to hope within Taehyung. 

But why would I be? What am I even hoping for? 

Jungkook is still no one to Taehyung, after all, aside from a husband in an arranged marriage, and a human. 

Taehyung rummages through the cupboards, searching for some snack to munch on. They’re depressingly empty. “Is there a pantry with some cooking supplies somewhere?” He asks, but no response arrives. "Don't tell me you've already fallen as—"

Jungkook is sitting up straight on the bed, his fists gripping at the blanket. His eyes are wide open. More notably, they're entirely black, similar to the tattoos that expand across his arms, throat and collarbones.

Taehyung warily watches. “Viper?”

Jungkook scurries off the bed to race to the balcony.

Taehyung leaves the kitchen to cautiously join the Prince. He remains at the entrance. His gaze scouts the garden and night sky for a presence.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Jungkook is leaning over the stone railing, his nape soon covered with the tattoos' intricate tendrils. “It’s a soul. They’re calling me, but… I can’t see anything. I can’t pinpoint where it’s coming from. It’s everywhere.”

Jungkook’s timber is wavering. Taehyung assumes at first that it’s due to an upset, however when Jungkook’s hands raise to hover next to his ears, the fingers trembling, Taehyung realizes where the agitation stems from.

Taehyung steps outside. He doesn’t know if it's prudent for Jungkook to be out and about with his display of arcane, but the castle and its garden had been deserted when he and Jungkook had landed earlier.

“It’s the same as before. It’s the third time.”

“Third time?” Taehyung echoes, his eyes narrowing.

“The first time I heard them was when we visited Vanae’s market,” Jungkook answers. “The second time was the same night I showed you my arcane, when I came back before we left the house.”

So this was what had rendered Jungkook so aghast back then.

“The first two times were subtle. I wasn’t sure of what I heard, if it had been a soul,” Jungkook continues. “But the second time was still a lot more eerie than the first. I don’t get scared easily, but that one did frighten me.”

Tonight as well, Taehyung thinks to himself. The basilisk herself looks shaken up, still around Jungkook’s shoulders. Taehyung’s gaze examines their surroundings but he can't catch any translucent form. “Are you hearing it right now?”

The basilisk goes back inside the ruby without a sound. 

“No, it stopped.”

“What stopped?”

“The scream.” Jungkook lifts a hand to his necklace, holding both onto Taehyung’s scale and the ruby. “Taehyung, it…." He reaches out to grip the sleeve of Taehyung's shirt. "It wasn’t a human scream. It sounded like a dragon.”

Taehyung is not even surprised.

This wedding ceremony has been an absolute clusterfuck, and why not add an apparently agonizing dragonborn soul on top of it all?

“You heard a dragon’s roar?”

Jungkook nods. His fingers relent for a moment to properly curl around Taehyung’s arm.

“Have you ever seen the soul of a dragonborn before Kija?” Taehyung questions, and the name is accompanied by this newfound peaceful grief.

“Never. Kija was the first.”

“Many dragonborns have died in your land."

“There was never a single dragonborn soul at the citadel, nor in the place I’d visit on Amaris’ lands and at the Seven Isles. At least none that I know of. After meeting Kija, I noticed that there's a difference between him and regular humans: a dark pocket at the center of his chest. It had never been there for any other souls I had encountered. You probably couldn’t see it. I think only I can because of my eyes.”

“You were seeing his breath pouch," Taehyung muses.

“I’ve always assumed I couldn’t communicate with dragonborns’ souls until I arrived here.”

“Considering the violence of what was done to us and our ancestors, the souls themselves must have been expunged to nothingness."

“Maybe.” Jungkook glances at Taehyung before his head darts ahead. His clamp tightens on Taehyung, the tip of the fingers and nails digging into the skin, but Taehyung makes no mention of it. “Again. God, this is—” A shiver racks through Jungkook’s form. His eyes change to their regular color. The tattoos and sigils begin to retract as well until they completely fade.

“I can’t hear anything.”

“I think they’re talking directly to me. They can only reach me ‘cause of my necromancy and they sound so—” Jungkook staggers away from the railing and Taehyung. “So pained. I can nearly feel it. S’too much.”

Taehyung is hit with a sudden epiphany that had not crossed his busy mind up till now.

Jungkook is a necromancer. 

He can speak with the dead if their soul has stayed behind.

The dead and skeletons litter Taehyung’s basement at his former home, and the night with Kija along with this one has proven that Jungkook can effectively communicate with a dragonborn soul, so what if can communicate with a dragonborn who has died from—

“Taehyung, I’m scared,” Jungkook whines and crouches to curl in on himself, his breathing picking up. “I want to go back inside and—” He startles. His hands fly to his ears, palms pressed against them. “It’s not stopping. I can’t make it stop. It won’t stop. ”

An idea flickers in Taehyung's mind.

He starts with his fire breath, then a sphere of wind and lightning is next that he concentrates in the sky. The forming thunderstorm is nowhere near as vast as the one he had created during the ring exchange. He only needs enough to cloud the balcony.

Thunder booms above them a minute later, cutting through Jungkook’s litany of ‘Make it stop’ and ‘It hurts’ . Rain begins to drizzle, light for the moment.

Taehyung slowly approaches Jungkook. He rests a hand between Jungkook’s shoulder blades. “Come on,” Taehyung urges. Jungkook does not budge, and so Taehyung tugs him up on his feet to guide him inside the bedroom.

Jungkook looks shell-shocked, his eyes glassy and attention flitting.

“Stay there,” Taehyung instructs. Not that Jungkook would leave from where he's frozen in place, crouched in on himself, palms still clasped over his ears.

Taehyung opens wide every single window in the nuptial suite, including the two glass doors leading to the balcony. Soon enough, the thunderstorm rumbles fills the room and hopefully drowns any other noise in the area. 

Taehyung walks back to Jungkook and crouches in front of him. He takes a hold of Jungkook’s wrists to lower them, but the Prince is unexpectedly strong, fighting back against Taehyung’s pull. Taehyung pushes anyway and manages to move Jungkook’s palms away from his ears. 

“Listen.”

Jungkook blinks through the drops that cling onto his eyelashes. The rain is loud, and so is the lightning that snaps outside every couple dozen of seconds. However it does not suffice. Jungkook still jolts in between two whips of the thunder.

“‘still too loud,” Jungkook confirms through a slurred mumble. “And it won’t stop, it's hurting me. It’s never this— This overwhelming. Hasn’t been in—” Jungkook flinches.

Taehyung wonders how deep Jungkook’s empathy goes when it concerns a soul’s ailment, if it sometimes borders on alienation. “What can you hear?”

“The screaming and crying and—”

“Not that." Taehyung squeezes Jungkook’s wrists to grab his attention. Jungkook looks up at him, and only then does Taehyung continue. “What can you hear in three, two, one…”

Thunder booms on cue, lightning erupting with it and illuminating the bedroom for a split second.

“Thunder."

Taehyung throws a gust of lightning out the window, this one with an arcane potent enough to intensify the storm. “Count up to seven,” Taehyung directs. Jungkook’s pulse is wild under the pad of Taehyung’s fingers. The skin on skin touch isn’t nearly as bothersome as it’d usually be with a human — or anyone else for that matter.

Jungkook counts out loud, and when he utters the number seven, it’s accompanied by thunder.

“What can you hear?”

“Thunder again. Crying too. I don’t know what to do, to make it stop.” Jungkook’s voice quavers through an aborted sob. He looks down at his wedding ring, watching the diamond with the minuscule storm in it.

A newfound idea pops into Taehyung's mind.

“Count to five.”

“One, two, t—three, four— Thunder.” Jungkook surveys Taehyung.

“It’s coming closer,” Taehyung clarifies Jungkook’s quiet question. “Count again. Keep doing so. Out loud so I can hear you.”

While making sure Jungkook continues to count, Taehyung makes his way to the balcony. He creates a half opened sphere the size of a snow globe, its ‘wall’ made of wind. He throws the ball high in the raging sky where it mingles amidst the gray clouds that have formed there.

It doesn’t take long for a fraction of the surrounding clouds, rain and lightning seep inside the sphere. Taehyung drags it down with a wave of his hand.

Taehyung rejoins Jungkook and lowers so their eyes meet. 

“Look, and listen.”

Taehyung presents the storm trapped in the ball of wind. It’s transparent enough to see the lightning that flashes in it, and it’s sufficiently dense in arcane and electricity to reverberate through the bedroom. The droplets of rain add a pitter-patter to the ambient downpour, further blanketing Taehyung and Jungkook.

“Show me your hands.” 

Jungkook silently obeys, and Taehyung rests the sphere between Jungkook's palms. 

“The thunder outside happens every twelve seconds. The one in the sphere does every three seconds. Focus on those two and keep counting for me, yes?”

“Okay,” Jungkook croaks out. His timber is less strained, his frame not as tense anymore.

Taehyung stands and lightly kicks Jungkook’s shin. “And don’t stay in front of the opened window, dumbass.”

Jungkook mumbles something between ‘prick’ or another insult of that kind, but he rises to his feet. He doesn't mention the soul’s cries again.

Taehyung takes a minute to increase the storm outside one last time, loud enough to further submerge anything the soul may say, however not to a point where Taehyung won't be able to hear if someone passes by.

When Taehyung turns around, Jungkook is sitting on the bed. His focus is entirely riveted on the sphere, as Taehyung had hoped.

“I’m holding a storm," Jungkook breathes out. "A storm globe."

Jungkook looks enthralled by Taehyung’s arcane anew. It seems genuine, for lack of a better word. There is no growing ill-intent or fear behind it, unlike what Taehyung has experienced from other humans, and sometimes his own peers. Only a candid awe seeps into Jungkook's voice, shaken by the waves of goosebumps pebbling his skin.

Taehyung retrieves the storm globe from Jungkook who gives him an affronted look. “Get under the blanket before you freeze to death and blame me for it."

Jungkook promptly does as demanded, cuddling up beneath the covers. “I’m freezing.”

“Obviously." Taehyung drops the storm globe on Jungkook's pillow. "What can you hear?”

A small smile curves Jungkook’s lips. He brings the sphere closer to his face, lips brushing across the curve. “Thunder and rain… Smells nice too.”

Taehyung sifts through a wardrobe to retrieve a bundle of blankets. “It’s called petrichor, the scent that appears before, during or after it rains."

“I didn’t know. It’s a pretty word, isn't it?”

Taehyung hums in agreement.

He haphazardly throws the additional blankets over the bed, a heap forming where a chuckling Jungkook is. After turning off the bedroom and kitchen's light, he finally slides under the blankets. A yawn escapes his mouth. The amount of arcane he's used today has exhausted him, but he knows he won’t be catching any slumber tonight. 

He glances at Jungkook who’s laid on his side and facing Taehyung, the storm globe between them. The basilisk appears to share Jungkook’s fascination because she’s darting her tongue at the sphere, probing at it with her snout and jerking away seconds later with a shake of her head.

“What would happen if I tried to put my hand inside the globe?”

“Death.”

A flash of dread passes on Jungkook’s face, washed away by a scowl. He smacks Taehyung’s arm. “Tell me."

“This storm isn't that charged in electricity. You’ll feel tingles, maybe some prickling because of the lightning. Your hand will be damped from the rain and clouds too.” Taehyung preemptively lessens the density of the wind surrounding the sphere with a graze of his fingers.

Jungkook takes that as a permission to poke the globe, his index passing through the barrier of the wind. “Oh.” He does it again but this time his full hand traverses the storm in the sphere. His fingers wiggle as he emits a small giggle as they do, lightning dancing across his skin. “It does tickle,” he says before retracting his hand to wipe it on the sheets and tub the comforters higher up his form. 

Taehyung summons his fire breath, warming himself up. If it also warms Jungkook, it’s a serendipity rather than a conscious gesture. 

The silence that settles in the room is only disrupted by the storm raging over the citadel and the one inside the globe, both soothing Taehyung.

He’s eager to be back home in Vanae even if he has been gone for barely a couple days.

He misses his land already. Its comfort and safety. Taehyung hasn’t gone hunting with his squadrons for some time as well, and so an angsty energy has been collecting within him that waits to be released.

Maybe he could take a day off first to carve a little, Taehyung muses. Making the storm globe has given him some designing ideas he wants to sculpt.

Jungkook shuffles closer to Taehyung. "I'm so warm."

“If you’re gonna complain that you’re too hot now, I’ll—”

“Shh. I’m comfy. Don’t ruin it.”

Taehyung scoffs.

He doesn’t mind sharing the same bed with Jungkook as much as he had thought he would. Taehyung wouldn’t say that he’s cozy at all , but he isn’t any more uncomfortable than if he were standing next to the Prince. However Taehyung does grow a tad on edge when Jungkook stares at him for the umpteenth time.

"You've been spending half of your time looking at me. Stop that."

Jungkook lazily blinks. “Thank you. For helping me. I know how to deal with this and my arcane on my own, but—” He’s interrupted by a yawn. “Sometimes it gets… It gets too much, you know?”

Yeah.

Taehyung knows.

“It never gets like it did earlier though. Not anymore.”

Taehyung’s curiosity for arcanes — and Jungkook’s in particular — flickers alive. “Would it happen a lot when you were younger?”

Jungkook nods. “I didn’t know how to compartim— Comparimen— Compart—” He huffs and mutters under his breath. “M’too sleepy.”

“Compartmentalize, yes.”

“Mhm, that. I was too young. And scared. And lost. ‘Cause imagine waking up one night and seeing a bunch of dead people’s ghosts around you?”

Taehyung grimaces.

“It’s not like that anymore, and I don’t get scared by them now, but earlier it was too much, and different.”

“You said you could feel the dragonborn’s pain,” Taehyung begins and Jungkook makes a noncommittal sound of agreement, his eyes closed. “Where?”

“Somewhere in my chest, above my heart, but more at the center?”

Where a dragonborn’s breath pouch is, Taehyung contemplates.

“Why?”

“No reason."

“M’kay.” Jungkook yawns again, his bleary eyes opening to peer at the storm globe. “Your arcane is really pretty.”

“Sleep.”

Jungkook hums before he and the basilisk entirely disappear under the cover. His head peeks out again a moment later. “I can’t hear the storm as much under the blankets,” he complains to Taehyung.

Taehyung sighs. He adds another layer of dense wind around the sphere to ensure that it can’t be crushed by anything. It muffles the sounds of the thunder and rain a bit, but this is the most Taehyung is willing to do at the moment. Quiet and sleep now.”

Jungkook snorts. “Goodnight.”

Perhaps half a minute passes until Jungkook’s breath hushes to a slow and even rhythm.

Taehyung frowns. He lifts the covers to see that Jungkook has, indeed, already fallen asleep. The basilisk is nuzzled against Jungkook’s chest, curled into a ball. A waft of petrichor flows from where Jungkook is hugging the storm globe.

Taehyung lowers the blankets and climbs off the bed.

He pauses at the balcony's frame. He breathes out a cone of wind that he aims at the sky, spreading out the clouds and abating the rain. His lids fall shut, head tilted backward. He takes in the aftermath of the storm, the scent of petrichor pungent enough to erase the one of putrid mint and coal.

He stays outside for a while, leaning against the railing and peering at the clearing sky and wet grass that shines where it catches the moonlight.

Taehyung eventually reenters the bedroom and finds his place under the blankets with an exhausted grunt.

“The storm outside s'gone?” Jungkook mumbles, only his face peeping out of the comforters.

“I cleared it. I’m not making another one.” 

"'kay. M'good now."

“What can you hear?”

Jungkook emits a soft sound. “The storm globe. You… Your breathing and voice, s’nice.”

“Sleep."

Chapter Text

Taehyung has, quite literally, passed out last night it seems.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep to begin with, only closing his eyes for a brief moment and opening them again now.

His mind is still wrapped in the somnolence of his slumber that, to his utmost surprise, has been incredibly refreshing. It’s as though he has gotten the chance to have an uninterrupted twelve hours of sleep for the first time in Elders know how long, and from the bright sunlight that bathes the nuptial room, it may be true.

A yawn is torn out of his mouth. He tries to lift his left arm to rub at his eyes and chase away the remnant of his lethargy.

His arm is gone, however. 

Taehyung fully jerks awake. 

His mind processes several things at once.

First is the grim floral scent that suffuses his nose below him. Second is the weight — weights? — heavily draped over him: one of them is on his chest and the heaviest, the other is on his navel, much lighter.

Taehyung cranes his neck as he lifts his head.

He blinks.

He’s met with deep, carmine eyes, the basilisk is peacefully resting on Taehyung’s belly.

The third matter his mind comprehends is that his arm hasn’t been unexpectedly torn from him in the middle of the night. It’s still there, but it has been commandeered by Jungkook who’s half laid atop Taehyung, the bird nest of black hair all that Taehyung can see when he looks down a second time. Taehyung tries not to think about how long he and the damn viper have been sleeping in this position but he fails, his numb arm a testimony of the hours it has spent underneath Jungkook’s weight.

Taehyung’s head flops back on the pillow. He glares at the innocent ceiling.

He can't believe this.

He should have woken up whenever the Prince had decided to take residence on Taehyung’s chest. Hell, Taehyung would have considered throwing Jungkook out the window for such an offense, and he's about to do exactly that as he grabs the back of Jungkook's shirt, however the basilisk cracks an eye open.

Taehyung pauses in his motion. 

Her snout nudges his belly and the fangs do, punctuated by a snuff.

“Wh— Was that a threat?”

The basilisk, to Taehyung’s affront, nods. It’s also at this moment that he realizes how alarmingly close to his crotch the basilisk is. Taehyung isn’t about to risk the well-being of his junk quite yet, so instead of throwing Jungkook away, he says “Viper. Get off.” 

The basilisk relaxes once more. 

“Viper. Fucking wake up.”

Jungkook mumbles something intelligible but he doesn’t move from where he’s suffocating Taehyung to death. If anything, he slings an arm over Taehyung’s abdomen as he presses himself closer and buries his nose on Taehyung’s chest.

Taehyung snatches the collar of Jungkook’s shirt. The snake gives him a warning look. “I will kill you if you bite my dick, you hear me you damn reptile? Get off of me. Both of you. Viper!”

Jungkook startles awake. He raises on his elbows, stabbing Taehyung’s stomach in the same process. He peers at Taehyung through half closed, puffy eyes, his tousled hair falling over his forehead. He mutters a question that sounds like an indecipherable ‘Hmphg?’

“Get off of me!”

Jungkook’s lids peel open. They flutter and cast soft shadows over his cheeks from the sunlight that swathes Jungkook’s form like some kind of holy halo the prince does not deserve. 

Jungkook surveys Taehyung once more. Properly this time. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. Now move. I have to go to the bathroom.”

In an answer that prompts Taehyung's mouth to open around a burst of outrage, Jungkook flops back on top of Taehyung with a content sigh. “M’comfy,” Jungkook useless supplies, as though the way he nestles his cheek against Taehyung’s chest isn’t enough of an indication that he, indeed, is 'comfy'.

“I will piss on the bed if you don’t move and you will be the one to clean it."

Jungkook is immune to the venom in Taehyung's warning because his shoulders shake around a quiet laugh. 

“I’m throwing you out the window in five seconds. Five, four—”

Jungkook lifts his head and pouts. “Why are you so noisy in—”

Taehyung’s hand smacks over Jungkook’s mouth when the latter speaks directly toward his nose. “By the Elders. Your morning breath is the most atrocious thing. Get away from me.”

Jungkook scowls and bats Taehyung’s hand away. “It’s not that bad,” he says after blowing in his palm and smelling his own breath.

“Three two one,” Taehyung rapidly fires.

He seizes Jungkook by the collar of the shirt, then the basilisk by her neck, and he effortlessly shoves them both to the other side of the bed. If Jungkook ends up tumbling down on the wooden floor, it’s none of Taehyung’s damn business.

Taehyung races to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. After relieving himself and washing his hands, he steps out again and sees that Jungkook is laid under the blankets again, his eyes closed. 

Taehyung walks to the balcony. The sun is setting high up. Taehyung estimates the time to be around 1 pm or 2 pm.

He makes his way toward the kitchen and he must have not properly scoured the place yesterday because he finds some food in the lower cupboards along with a moka pot and some ground coffee. 

He’s halfway through fixing himself a cup when he feels, then notices a spot on his gray shirt.

Taehyung’s gaze darts on his chest. He gawks. “You drooled on me!”

“I don’t drool.”

Taehyung wordlessly points at the disgusting wet patch right as Jungkook’s head peeks out from the blanket. 

Jungkook blinks a few times. “Well…” His gaze drags from Taehyung's feet to Taehyung’s head in a slow, deliberate gesture. “You are a sight to behold, dear husband. It makes my mouth water.”

“You’re fucking revolting."

Jungkook bursts into laughter, leaving the bed to disappear inside the bathroom.

The morning — or rather early afternoon — is quite peaceful as Taehyung and Jungkook both consume their coffee and breakfast. They both shower and get dressed with the change of clothes neatly folded on a dresser. 

Taehyung sighs in relief when back into the comfort of his cargo pants and simple black tee.

Once done with their morning routine, Taehyung and Jungkook stash their clothes from yesterday into a leather bag before trudging to the third floor. They enter one of the meeting rooms there, greeted by their friends and family.

“Good morning, lovebirds,” Jimin chirps. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Good morning,” Jungkook grins, walking up to them.

Taehyung trails behind. 

“Good morning, Son,” Junhyun and Dahee say.

Jimin is nestled on a couch, right next to the warlock. Taehyung levels his friend with a stony look that Jimin responds to with a bright smile and a shrug. Jungkook settles on a loveseat, framed by Namjoon and Dahee, while Taehyung also sits on an armchair.

Or rather, he tries to settle down as he grabs onto the back of the chair to tug it back, however before he can move another finger, something collides onto him, punching the air out of his lungs.

Taehyung is propelled against the wall that cracks into a series of fissures from the impact. The bones in his shoulders groan under the pressure of what is pinning him to the wall and he hisses, shaking his head to dispel the dizziness. 

Taehyung understands who the instigator of the attack is when his mother glares daggers at the warlock, barely held back by her mate from lunging at Yoongi. Jimin’s levity is gone too, replaced by a wrath that echoes with Taehyung’s.

“Yoongi!” Jungkook springs up. “What—”

“What the hell have you done to him?” Yoongi seethes as he stands from his seat to face Taehyung.

Taehyung tries to move but he can’t: his chest and arms are covered in ink, rope-like tendrils tying him against the wall. Their clamps tighten. They crawl up his shoulders and neck, the net of ink linked to Yoongi’s stretched arm.

“Yoongi! Stop! This isn’t—”

Taehyung yanks on his bindings but they’re not budging. He attempts to free himself but fails. His heart beat in his throat, feeling sick.

He can’t move.

“You’ve got the imprint of his fingers all over your neck! Your throat is covered in bruises that weren’t there last night,” Yoongi fires back. A grand raven bursts out of his other hand, towering over every single person in the room. “I’ll do to you what I should’ve done to Seungwon.”

“He’s goddamn heavy.”

“Come on, hurry it up. He’s waking up.”

“Everyone! Get ready to intervene! You two, make sure he’s tightened well.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Ain’t the warlock supposed to help?”

“That’s what these are for.”

Clangs of metal chains engraved in runes trail after the man’s word. The aching tightness around Taehyung’s wrists is next. He can't break free from the cuffs or chains. He's too weakened, at the mercy of —

Taehyung doesn’t know how he does it.

Perhaps he’s fueled by the fear and desperation provoked by the memories assaulting his mind. Or perhaps it’s the fury, coalescing in an explosive cocktail.

Taehyung can’t fully make out what is said, whether by those in the rooms or those in the memories. However his arm strains, the muscles flexing as it forces against the ink gripping him and pierced into the wall. 

He extends his right arm. 

Dahee and Jimin are both held back by Junhyun, but also kept away by the large raven. Splatters of ink drop on the ground, staining the fabrics and furniture.

The staccato rumbles in Taehyung's chest where his heart hammers. He can feel the way the ink tries to restrain the motion of his hand, but he's stronger. More frenzied. He manages to curl his middle finger so that it is bent against his thumb.

The view in front of him bleeds with the one of the nightmare, the pristine beige walls merging with moldy, worn out stones. Jungkook and Jimin’s yells are drowned by the sounds of rattling chains and of something breaking.

Taehyung’s fingers shake from the strength he has to exert to maintain his arm up. A transparent, minuscule bead of rippling arcane forms between his middle finger and thumb, the shapes undulating where it is held. He aims at the warlock. 

“Yoongi, let him—”

Taehyung flicks the bead.

Everything has happened quickly, perhaps in the matter of ten seconds, yet it feels impossibly drawn out as Taehyung watches the pearl whiz past Yoongi’s shoulder.

Silence floats.

The bead pierces through concrete like cotton.

The wall, ground and windows, along with half of the room, implode and shatter to pieces.

A gust of air throws everyone off their feet, sending them to topple backward amidst the flurry of splinters and blasted furniture flying in every direction. The raven ruptures into a rain of black ink that pours over what’s left of the area.

Taehyung’s bindings relax around him when the warlock is hurled to the other side of the meeting room. Taehyung is surprised to see that the man is unharmed, arm still attached to his body.

Yoongi rises to his feet. “I’ll fucking kill you.” He gathers every drop of ink that has fallen in the room, even collecting those absorbed by the clothes or sofas' fabric. The ink swirls in the warlock’s hand, drawing sharp angles and an elongated baton.

The halberd Yoongi holds is meager compared to the second bead of force Taehyung is creating. Taehyung ignores the tiredness that weighs him after the first one, having not used his arcane to such an extent in a while.

Jimin moves as the warlock draws back his arm. Taehyung prepares himself to flick the second pearl. However Jimin snatches Yoongi by the vest to swivel him around, his fist raising, about to smash across the warlock’s face.

The ink tightens anew on Taehyung’s limbs.

“Are you sure they’ll be enough? They look so flimsy.”

“The warlock said they would be.”

“What if he breaks free though?”

“Stop!” Jungkook pushes Yoongi away from Jimin, breaking the two and unknowingly saving his friend’s life

“See?”

“I was scared he’d get out after we got the job done.”

“Gather everything and put them in the pouches and cases. We’ll…”

“What is wrong with you?!”

“What is wrong with me?! He hurt you and—”

“He hasn’t done anything!”

“Your throat—”

“Seungwon did this to me! Not Taehyung!”

“How long until next time?”

“The warlock said they should be back tomorrow. In 20, 24 hours.”

“Thank fuck. I thought it’d take hours only. I need to clean up.”

“Nah. Because of the cuffs, his arcane…”

There’s a ringing between Taehyung’s ears. Or perhaps it’s the voices, blaring and incessant. He thinks he can smell the putrid mint and coal, but he knows it’s in his imagination.

It has to be, right?

“But—”

“But nothing! I hid them yesterday after stumbling on Seungwon because I wasn’t about to show up with those bruises to greet the guests,” Jungkook exclaims.

“Fuck,” Taehyung exhales, shaky. “Let me go." 

It sounds too much like a plea. He hates it. 

The chains — ink? — constricting Taehyung’s body vanish.

He staggers forward, his vision blurry. He hears some sound on his left, footsteps or hitting and he shuffles away from it and the yelling. His legs are weak though, barely carrying him to the other side of the room where the cleaved hole of the crumbled floor, wall and ceiling are.

Taehyung falls on his knees, facing the garden three floors below him. There's a crater where the bead had continued its path of destruction.

His skin prickles from having his back to the room. Vulnerable. And so he drops down, not that he could stay up with his limbs that give in under his own weight. His head dangling from the edge of the torn floor. Voices blend together in his head, unable to extricate the one of his parents and Jimin from those of the man with the scent or more.

He only realizes now how his breath has picked up, erratic and irregular. He's trying to breathe, to send air into his burning lungs, but he can’t, not with the way his heart feels like it's being ripped out of his chest.

He doesn’t want to be back there again. 

I have to get out.

He can’t figure out where he is anymore.

I can't do this again.

If he’s safe or not. If he’s back there or not. 

There’s some blue above him but he doesn’t know what it is. He swears he can sense some metal on his wrists and ankles. Some tugging. His scars hurt. His head hurts. Everything does. 

"F—Fuck.” A sob catches in his throat. 

Taehyung wonders if he’s having a heart attack, if he's about to die from it. 

His face is cupped. 

He can’t flinch away, his body paralyzed. The hands cradling his cheeks emanate a warmth as they turn his head to the side.

Taehyung doesn’t recognize who the person is, and the alarm swells.

“You’re safe,” the person says.

Taehyung blinks, his vision clearing enough to see Jimin.

“You’re safe, Taehyung.”

“Don’t wanna—” Taehyung's respiration is too labored. His eyes close. “Not back there.”

“You’re at Amaris’ citadel. You’re not in the room. You’re not with them again. You got married yesterday. With Jungkook,” Jimin says, his voice assured, piercing through the fog swallowing Taehyung’s thoughts. “Focus on breathing. Remember to count. It's real, you're with us.”

Taehyung nods, clinging onto Jimin’s words and voice, but Taehyung is struggling to entangle the reality from the illusory.

Something trickles down his temple and disappears in his hair. He believes he can feel a fresh breeze brush over his skin. More talking erupts. They're different from Jimin. One of them sounds like the man with scent. Jimin's face is gone, and maybe this isn't real at all. Maybe he is back in the room and they're about to—

A cold object bumps against his shoulder.

He wonders if it’s one of those damp walls he would lean against. However the object moves. It’s smaller than a wall, and it’s long, stretching endlessly. It touches his cheek. Taehyung sees some blurred spot of red seconds later, mingling with black and the blue above him. 

A tissue grazes his temples as he blinks away the blurriness in his eyes. He notes the sleeve leading to a hand wearing a ring. A storm churns in the ring's diamond.

“Can you see me?” Someone says, and akin to before, a hand gently wipes his eyes. There’s a rhythmic tapping of a finger on the back of his hand. “Can you see her too?” Taehyung peers at the two faces above him. “You know who I am, right? I’m Jungkook, your lovely husband. And this Revna."

What if even this isn’t real? What if Jungkook isn't?

“Imagination can be pretty extravagant, but even it wouldn’t be able to come up with a man who has a basilisk guardian angel and a miniature storm in his wedding ring. I’m sure you never saw my face or Revna’s in your dreams back then because you didn’t know us. Because the time you were in that room is in the past. You aren’t there anymore.”

Taehyung’s chest heaves with the effort to regulate his breathing. The tapping on his hand doesn’t stop, an anchor he uses to count up to ten.

“You’re in the present right now, with us. With me. None of this is a dream, yes?”

Taehyung's heart does not hurt as much anymore, so manages to nod this time. He's rewarded with a hand that softly card through his hair, pushing his bang away from his forehead.

“What can you hear?”

Taehyung doesn’t understand the question. Faint clicks of metal knocking against metal flare near his right ear as a hand — Jungkook's — cups the side of Taehyung's head.

“What can you hear, Taehyung?”

Some boom floats next to Taehyung. It’s distant, so quiet that he thinks it may be another trick of his mind, however the sound deepens as the rumble is broken by a snap.

“Thunder,” Taehyung croaks out as something cold moves then rests atop his wrist.

“Exactly. It’s from the storm in the ring. I noticed I could hear it last night.”

Taehyung hears another voice, of a woman this time, and she mentions something about arcane Taehyung doesn’t pay any attention to.

“It’s your arcane in it. Your wind, fire and lightning,” Jungkook resumes. “It’s your storm. You made it yesterday.”

Taehyung had not been capable of using his breaths in the room. But if he had summoned his arcane yesterday then... 

Then he’s not back there. 

It makes sense, right?

It’s real. It has to be. Because Jungkook is right, Taehyung’s mind couldn’t have made him and the basilisk up.

So Taehyung focuses on those: on the tapping, the numbers and the thunder. On a human to get away from those that have hurt him, and on the basilisk tucked alongside his arm.

Soon, Taehyung can pick up on Jimin and his parents' scents. It’s familiar. It’s home. When he concentrates on the ring, he can feel his breaths seeping from it. Arcane swirl in his breath pouch, free.

The overwhelming weight that a calamity is about to occur lessens until it completely vanishes. His respiration regulates and evens out. He brings forth his fire breath, letting it climb up his throat, and when he opens his eyes, some flames flick out of it.

The hand on the side of his head and the smooth coldness leave him, replaced by the face of his mother sitting next to him and holding his face.

“My son, you are home, and safe.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung eloquently replies. He had woken up perhaps an hour ago, and he could fall asleep all over again at any moment now.

Taehyung sits up with his mother and Jimin’s help. At his mother's instruction, he straightens his legs on the floor, his arms limp between them. His hair is damp, drops falling on his pants and more sliding down his neck and face. A cloth is passed on his forehead. He's too numb to bat it away.

The humiliation isn’t there yet.

It might flare later, but he’s not so certain. All that matters at the moment is that he isn’t in the roo.

“One of you should shift to bring a carriage up here so he can directly climb in it and leave,” Jungkook proposes, even if it sounds more like a demand.

“I will fetch one from the front,” Junhyun coldly agrees.

It’s silent for a while.

Taehyung grows more conscious of his body, enough for him to grab the hem of his shirt and wipe the sweat covering his face. He then rubs the heel of his palms on his eyes, white dots appearing under his closed lids. 

He wants to be back in Vanae. 

“Your father is here,” Dahee announces after a while. “We can leave.”

Taehyung tries to stand but his legs are too wobbly, so he waits for a little longer. No one tries to help him. They know better not to. Jungkook appears to know as well from where he’s standing feet away, right between Taehyung and the warlock. 

It’s at the second trial that Taehyung stands. He combs a hand through his hair, slicking his bang across his crown. His thoughts flicker back to how a foreign hand had done the same earlier.

“Taehyung, I’m—”

To Taehyung’s surprise, neither his parents nor Jimin are the one to interrupt Yoongi.

It’s Jungkook, who levels the warlock with a glacial stare. “Don’t. You’ve done enough.”

Yoongi looks positively chastised at this, his lips pinched together and his gaze cast low.

Taehyung doesn’t have the energy to revel in it. He ignores the warlock in favor of turning around. His father is in his dragon form, the latter flying closer to the torn wall with the carriage attached at his talon.

The breeze is refreshing on Taehyung’s heated skin. 

When the carriage is close enough, Jimin opens the door, climbing inside, Dahee next. Taehyung is about to do the same, however he glances at Jungkook over his shoulder.

“I’ll ride with Joon and Yoongi, so I’ll meet you later in Vanae.” Jungkook doesn’t sound thrilled by his own admission.

Taehyung ponders for a brief lull. “You can come in,” he rasps and turns to step inside the carriage.

“It’s alright, I’ll—”

“You can go with them,” Yoongi says. “Namjoon and I will travel the regular way since we have to bring what’s left of our belongings to the house we found in Vanae. We’ll have to speak to the Queen and King about this as well.” He motions toward the destroyed room.

“Fine. I’m still angry at you, but I love you,” Jungkook huffs and hugs Yoongi.

“I love you too.” Yoongi parts away from Jungkook. His gaze flits on the transportation vessel, meeting Taehyung’s. “I’m sorry. I thought... I'm sorry.” He swivels on his feet and wordlessly exits the room.

Namjoon draws a contrite smile. “I’ll talk to him.” He pats Jungkook’s shoulder then runs after the warlock.

Jungkook makes his way toward the others. He settles on Taehyung’s right, Dahee and Jimin in front of them.

The ride is quiet for the most part.

The window is opened on Taehyung's side, and he props an arm on the frame, chin tucked in his palm. He observes his mother and Jimin, the latter fast asleep, his head on Dahee’s lap. Taehyung smiles. Dahee mirrors him when she catches his gaze.

Some lingering restlessness subsists in Taehyung but it’s mild, abated the longer he’s in the sky.

Irregular ticks keep flicking in the carriage. Taehyung pays it no heed at first, however when it still hasn't stopped minutes later, his head snaps toward Jungkook who’s clicking his nails together. “What.”

“Huh?”

“If you’ve got something to say then say it,” Taehyung snaps.

“Oh it’s—” Jungkook’s fingers pause. “It’s nothing important. It’s not my business.”

“And?”

After a beat, Jungkook says “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“If I’m overstepping or anything like that, you can tell me to fuck off and I will.”

“Just ask already.”

“What prompted your… Your reaction?”

Taehyung stills. 

The confession is easier to utter than he had anticipated, but he guesses that it can be another tenth of a token he can offer to Jungkook.

“The ink’s bindings.”

“Oh.” Jungkook looks pensive. “Okay. I see. I had a feeling but I wasn’t sure.” He halts to peer down at his entangled hands, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the other. “When I wrap my hand or arm around one of yours, is that okay? Because if it feels constricting like a binding, I can stop.”

Taehyung can only stare at the Prince, his gaze locked with Jungkook’s candid one. 

He can’t remember the last time someone other than his family has ever shown such attentive — and undeserved — care. He doesn’t know how to feel about it either: if he’s content, annoyed or upset. His mind is too much of a blustery storm, and so he chooses a simple answer. 

“It’s fine.”

“Okay.” Jungkook's lips tug around a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Why,” Taehyung huffs.

Jungkook gives Taehyung a pointed look. “I told you in the restroom already. Thank you for being honest, O emotionally constipated prick.”

“Fucking brat,” Taehyung retorts but it’s lacking its usual bite.

Dahee chuckles, echoed by Jimin.

Taehyung leans away from the window. He folds his arms over his chest and he slumps down his seat to drop his head against the backrest, finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

He eventually gives up, lulled by the slight sway of the carriage.

Taehyung wakes up on a cushiony, large couch in his parents’ home.

He has no clue on how he has gotten there, if he has walked or not, or if he, Elders forbid, has been carried like a damn child.

The living room is warm, the burning fireplace casting a golden hue over the place. Candles are lit as well, maintaining a consistent glow against the complete darkness of the night.

Taehyung is well rested in spite of his fright attack. It has happened, he has handled it — with some help —, and it has passed. He muses about what his family, especially what his father, would always say whenever it would occur, about how there’s nothing to be ashamed of. However Taehyung can still sometimes feel the creeping tendrils of humiliation crawling across his skin. 

Tonight, however, he feels good. No shame or fear lingers. He’s at home and warm. H e’s safe, he tells himself as a mantra.

Some hushed voices elevate from the kitchen behind the couch.

“Thank you for your help earlier, Jungkook,” Dahee says.

“Nothing to thank me for.”

“They happen rarely now, but when they do, it can sometimes be difficult to know what to do to aid him,” Dahee carries on. “However, you promptly understood what had to be done and said. I admire your intelligence, my dear.”

“Ah, I’m—” Jungkook pauses. 

Taehyung can nearly hear the blush that must take over the Prince’s face.

“It’s just… I don’t know. Instincts. I guess I’m not too bad at understanding him? And to be completely honest with you, Taehyung himself should be thanked. I stole the thunder idea from him. I wasn’t feeling well the night before, but he was thankfully there and had done something similar.”

“Is this why I could smell petrichor when we arrived this morning?”

“He created a storm to help me.”

A moment of silence expands in the discussion.

“Taehyung created a storm to help you."

Taehyung frowns. 

Why does his mother sound so exasperated?

Jungkook must share Taehyung’s confusion because he says “Yes, he did. Why? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Dahee groans. “These boys…"

Taehyung peers at the flames as another lull floats in the living room, a heavy blanket draped over him. He should probably make his awakening known before the discussion starts again, but he’s comfortable where he is, not in the mood to chat or move a single limb.

“He said to me that he never told you about what happened to him,” Jungkook starts after a while. “That he never allowed you to visit him when he came back.”

“He never has. Only my father truly knows. Minsoo is a dragonborn with healing and nature related breaths. He helped take care of Taehyung during his convalescence.”

“Have you ever asked him?”

“All the time, at first. I was blinded by my wrath and would relentlessly ask. Then he snapped at me one day. I wanted to hunt and raze from this world those that had hurt my son, but Taehyung was— He wanted to heal. I respected his decision.”

“I see..."

“I believe he also wanted to protect us, especially Jimin. When Taehyung had been gone, Jimin had been… absent. The shadow of who he had once been. He would spend his nights and days looking for Taehyung, while forgetting to look after himself. It was a heartbreaking sight. Taehyung got to know about this. He must have judged it too risky for us or Jimin to truly know the extent of what he'd gone through. Jimin would have most likely gone on a rampage.”

“That sounds like something Jimin would do.”

Dahee chuckles. “I would have certainly joined him, while Junhyun would have tried to fruitlessly temper us. Jimin and I can be the wind to each other’s fire.”

Taehyung huffs a quiet chuckle at the understatement.

“Minsoo never told you about Taehyung either?”

“It isn’t his place to do so. All my mate, Jimin and I knew at the time and still to this day is that Taehyung had narrowly escaped death. He had been brought to us in a critical state, and had remained at death’s door for 17 days before he was deemed to be stable.”

“God… That must have been terrifying.”

“It was a ghastly time. It was hard on everyone but none of us ever said anything, but Taehyung was the one suffering. However Taehyung’s pain had become ours as well, and it had been difficult to handle.” Dahee pauses, the clanging of a cup being rested on a table following suit. “I recall being unable to sleep until I passed out. I couldn’t bear the idea of losing my son again, of him being hurt once more. I had to be vigilant and alert at all times, or at least I thought I had to for months.”

Taehyung had never known this. He had been so wrapped up in himself back then that he had never stopped to think about how his family may have felt after the nightmare.

“I’d be thinking the same as well after an event like that."

“Thankfully, Junhyun was there. Jimin and I could rely on him.” The smile is audible in Dahee's voice. “Taehyung has simply... refused to share this burden with us.”

“Hopefully he does one day.”

Taehyung swallows around the swelling lump in his throat.

“Hopefully. Nevertheless everything is well, now. Taehyung is safe, and that is all that matters. You should head to bed, dear,” Dahee says after some amicable quietude. “It is late.”

“I will.” Sounds of chairs echo in the kitchen. “Thank you for letting me sleep here.”

“It is no trouble. We are always happy to have you with us. You’re welcome in our home, Jungkook.”

There’s no noise for a while and, curious, Taehyung peeps from above the couch to watch his mother hugging Jungkook. He meets Dahee’s gaze who doesn’t appear surprised to see him awake. 

Taehyung falls back on the couch and waits.

“Goodnight."

“Goodnight, my dear.”

Taehyung listens to the padded footsteps of his mother walking inside the living room. She sits on the edge of the sofa, peering down at Taehyung.

“I raised you better than to spy on people.”

“You did not,” Taehyung retorts. “I still remember that time when I was a kid where you quite literally threw me on a rooftop to listen in on a group’s conversation.”

Dahee snorts and tilts her chin away as she crosses her arms. “I had to know whether or not they had been yapping behind my back, and they had been.”

Taehyung laughs. He closes his eyes when his mother cards her hand through his hair. The motion is different from when he had his fright attack this morning. The tenderness in it had been more tentative, more uncertain yet just as soothing.

Taehyung senses more than he hears his father joining them downstairs, Junhyun’s scent always accompanied by a vanilla tinge to it.

“My loves,” Junhyun mumbles through a yawn. “Why are you both still awake? I was wondering when you would join me in bed, Darling.”

“Night owls,” Taehyung and Dahee both say in unison.

Junhyun chuckles as he settles on the armchair poised next to the couch. “How are you faring, my son?”

“I’m good."

“Yes?” Dahee probes and folds her hands over her lap.

“Yeah.”

A smile that Taehyung can only qualify as teasing curls his mother’s lips. “Jungkook is quite marvelous, isn’t he?”

“He certainly helped a lot, Revna as well,” Junhyun agrees with an equally playful smile.

Taehyung huffs. “Sure.” Dahee pinches him and Taehyung would pinch her back if it didn’t mean leaving the warm cocoon he’s wrapped into.

His parents chat together for a bit.

Taehyung watches them.

It’s been six years. 

Six years of refusing to give away a sliver of his burden, instead carrying it all by himself. If what had occurred to him still mangles his mind to this day, he wonders if it still is the same for his parents. He wonders if they wake up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, fearing that what had been done to Taehyung may happen again without even knowing what has truly gone down.

Taehyung sits up, the blanket pooling on his lap where his hands fold. He leans against the couch’s armrest behind him, and an anxious turmoil rises in him.

Junhyun shuffles the armchair he’s sitting on to be closer to the sofa. “Taehyung?”

“What is troubling your mind?”

Taehyung opens his mouth, but nothing comes out of it.

The lump from minutes earlier is back, tight and compressing his chest. His hands grip onto the blanket. Junhyun’s hands wrap around Taehyung’s fist, unfolding the fingers to hold Taehyung's hand. 

Taehyung exhales, his gaze darting between his parents.

Memories of parents' faces stricken by sorrow flicker in his head.

“You should talk about it, it’s freeing.”

Taehyung is exhausted. He is so, so tired.

So he talks.

He tells his parents of the nightmare. Of the pain and the fury, of the fear and humiliation. He does not tell them all. The gruesome details are only for him to know. However enough for them to know: from beginning to end, from capture to freedom, from giving up to fighting back.

He does not stop because if he does he’ll never be able to continue again. Taehyung speaks and speaks and speaks, even as his voice grows hoarse with the sobs he tries to repress but can’t. Even as tears slide down his mother and father’s cheeks. Dahee and Junhyun are quiet, attentively listening to him and patiently waiting when he has to collect himself and find his voice again.

When he’s done, Dahee’s arms wrap around Taehyung in a tight embrace that he reciprocates, muffling his cries on his mother’s shoulder. He feels his father’s palm rub between his shoulder blades, the soreness soothed.

Taehyung hadn’t expected for the relief to be so dizzying after speaking about his nightmare. He feels lighter, like the stone that has been weighing in his chest since that forsaken day is beginning to finally lift and allow him to breathe easier.

The three of them remain in the living room for a while afterwards, hugging and watching the fireplace. They spend the rest of the night in silence, Taehyung with his head on his father’s shoulder, drinking the cups of soothing tea Dahee prepares for them.

“You look like shit,” Jimin greets Taehyung when the latter makes the mistake of stepping a foot in the dining area.

“At least it’s an exceptional occurrence unlike some,” Taehyung retorts and kicks Jimin’s rear after Jimin has done the same to him.

“You’re alright?”

Taehyung draws a little smile. "Yeah." He won’t tell Jimin just yet. His friend is too impulsive, and with the man with the scent having shown up at the wedding, Taehyung doesn't want to risk anything.

Everyone is seated at the dining table. Taehyung plops down on the empty seat between the Prince and Jimin. They seem to have eaten their breakfast already except for Taehyung who wolfs down his scrambled eggs.

“What were you talking about?” Taehyung asks amidst two bites.

“Seungwon,” Jungkook answers. The basilisk is laid on his lap, eating the pieces of cooked boar he's sharing with her, her head hovering above the plate.

“Now why would you subject yourself to that?” 

“Do you remember when we saw them in the forest?” Jungkook starts and Taehyung nods. “The Jaehee man took out a sundial with runes on it, and I think they have a tracking spell on me and are using the sundial to pinpoint my location. They knew we left the house, then they said that it was ‘dwindling’.”

“That’d explain why the pig was at the wedding,” Jimin adds. “To put it back on you.”

“I’ve been thinking the same,” Jungkook agrees. “He most likely succeeded. I think Jaehee said he or someone else could put it on me, and Seungwon touched me.”

“How has the spell gotten on you the first time?” Dahee inquires.

Jungkook sighs. “I’m not sure.”

Taehyung is hit by a realization. 

If the tracker can be put on anyone by anyone, then— 

Taehyung slams his fist on the table. “I fucking knew it. Woobin," he says to Jungkook. “Remember the ‘rite of passage’ when you first arrived here?” Jungkook’s mouth parts open. “Woobin touched your shoulder, and over a month has passed between this and us stumbling on Seungwon in the forest, which would explain why the tracker is dwindling.”

“Oh my God.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue. “I knew something was off, but I didn’t think there was any actual purpose behind it aside from Woobin being a piece of shit.”

“I need to speak with Yoongi about it. He and Namjoon arrived at their house in Vanae.”

“You can bring them here,” Taehyung offers. It’s not like he can forever ignore the warlock’s existence, plus Yoongi could prove himself to be useful. “We should talk about this with him anyway.”

Jungkook appears uncertain. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it's fine. If he tries anything again, I'll aim for the head next time."

“Prick,” Jungkook says with a misplaced laugh. He stands, leaving the basilisk on his chair. “I’ll get him now, I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll fly you there, it’ll be faster and will take only a few minutes,” Jimin proposes and rises to his feet.

“Is it okay if I leave her here?” Jungkook motions toward the basilisk.

“Of course,” Junhyun grins.

Jungkook and Jimin both make their way toward the entrance door and exit the house.

Jimin turns and the two of them fly off, disappearing in the sky.

Taehyung resumes his breakfast. 

There’s a gaze on him. Not Jungkook's for once.

Two red, inquisitive eyes to be more precise. He ignores it at first but he eventually caves and glares down at the basilisk still staring up at him. She lifts her head, her elongated neck and body stretching toward Taehyung to curl over his arm. She doesn’t need any verbose to communicate her intentions as she sniffs at the plate.

“No. Move.” Taehyung pushes the basilisk’s head while tugging the plate away from her. He continues his meal, however minutes later, the snake’s black head adorned with the white sigil peeks out from underneath Taehyung’s arm. “What did I just say?”

The basilisk hisses at him, her tongue darting out. She bumps her snout against his forearm and she curls around it a couple times to rest her head atop Taehyung’s hand. Then, she tilts her head and watches him with her big, round eyes.

“You can try to guilt trip me all you want but it won’t work. Stop it and get off of me.”

Taehyung is a stubborn, hard-headed man.

He does not give in to pouts, sad noises or any act of that kind — because the basilisk’s behavior is undeniably an act, certainly a trait she has inherited from the bratty Prince. So, when Taehyung refuses to grant something to someone, it is, for the most part, resolute. Final. Even for the damn snake.

Taehyung swears that he is a stubborn, hard-headed man.

He truly is.

Which is why his plate is on the floor a brief while later, the leftovers of his breakfast now begrudgingly given to the basilisk who chirps a series of happy clicks.

Taehyung grumbles under his breath as he does the dishes. His parents snicker behind him. “Stop laughing.”

“What’s going on?” Jimin wonders as he enters the house.

“Nothing aside from Taehyung being adorably biased,” Dahee answers.

“Mom,” Taehyung snips and turns. 

Jungkook is stepping inside, the warlock and Namjoon trailing behind. Taehyung and the warlock’s eyes meet. Taehyung rejoices in the way Yoongi is the first to avert his gaze seconds later.

“Shall we settle down somewhere more comfortable?” Junhyun proposes.

The group fills the living room's couches and armchairs while the basilisk spreads out in front of the fireplace.

Taehyung’s attention is called by a familiar ring of ink the warlock presents to the room.

“We can use this to verify if you have a tracking spell or not. I’ve tweaked it to be more specific and detailed in what it finds,” Yoongi explains and gives the ring to Jungkook

After removing the wedding necklace along with the ruby one, Jungkook walks inside the kitchen. “It shouldn’t detect anyone else’s arcane if I’m that far?”

Yoongi nods. “I reduced the scanning area to three feet around the ring.”

“Alright.” Jungkook presses on the gem while Yoongi opens the notebook he has been holding.

“This is quite the fascinating arcane you have, Yoongi,” Junhyun marvels.

Yoongi draws a small smile. “Thank you. The possibilities with my arcane and ink are quite extensive, it—” He freezes on his spot and springs up. “Fuck.”

Taehyung straightens from his slouched position.

Half of the room erupts in a ‘What is it?’

Yoongi produces a raven that hovers in front of him. “Find the location,” he commands and the raven flies toward Jungkook.

It scrutinizes Jungkook, darting this and that way to sniff at this or that spot. It halts near Jungkook’s neck. Yoongi marches toward him and yanks on the cotton shirt. He murmurs something under his breath as ink swirls out of his fingers. Then, he touches Jungkook’s skin with his ink, at the joint of the neck and shoulder.

A round circle appears. It’s faint and barely noticeable, but it’s there.

“This— This is my tracker.”

“What?” Everyone collectively says.

Taehyung surveys the warlock. “You said someone ordered a tracker from you some time ago.”

Yoongi glances at Taehyung. “A certain Kang Minho did.”

“Fuckers," Taehyung hisses. "They used Woobin's friend to commission the tracker in case you knew Woobin’s name.”

“I swear I had no idea, Jungkook, I would never—”

“Yoongi, I know,” Jungkook frowns and squeezes Yoongi’s arm. “It wasn't your fault.”

“How does your tracker work?” Dahee questions, her tone clipped. She still clearly holds a grudge against the warlock, and Taehyung bites back a snicker at his mother’s fierce protectiveness.

“It’s made with an ink that turns invisible after a few seconds. All that has to be done is stick the patch of ink somewhere on someone’s body or clothes. The patch works like a miniature sun, to put it simply,” Yoongi explains while seemingly removing the tracker from Jungkook. “It comes with a—”

“Sundial,” Taehyung and Jungkook both say.

“Yes."

No one speaks a word for a moment.

“Small word, isn’t it?” Jimin snorts. “I personally find that a little amusing.”

Yoongi sighs heavily. “I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened. My clientele comes from all sort of backgrounds and so I tend to rarely ask questions as long as they pay me, but if I—”

“You couldn’t have known, Yoon, it’s okay,” Jungkook shushes. “Let’s sit down." He pushes on his friend’s back, the two of them settling back on the couch. “Do I have a second tracker on me?” He inquires and fastens back the necklaces.

“There’s an unknown arcane on you. Not ancient, simply well hidden, so it could be it.” Yoongi reads the book, tilting it away from any prying eyes. “Whoever put it on you is skilled. I don’t think I’ll be able to decipher it since the ring would have done it. I also won’t be able to remove it.”

“Then we—”

“This isn’t what bothers me, though.” Yoongi shows the book to Namjoon and Jungkook. “We never really spoke about that.”

“You were right," Jungkook says and peers at Taehyung, "they aren’t yours.”

Taehyung assumes Jungkook is referring to the additional two ancient arcanes the ring had found back when Taehyung had commissioned Yoongi.

“But…" Jungkook trails off. "That doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?” Jimin pipes up. “What’s all the secrecy about?”

“God.” Jungkook rubs his palms over his face then plays with the hoops framing his ear. “I guess I should—”

“You don’t have to,” Namjoon interjects. “It could put you in danger. The more the amount of people aware of this grows, the riskier it becomes.”

“I know, but it’s better if they know, and I trust them. Taehyung already knows, and I’ve been thinking about telling Dahee, Junhyun and Jimin as well. I’m just worried. I intended to tell them eventually, however not so soon.”

“Now,” Jimin begins, the smile curving his lips not reaching his eyes, “what the fuck is going on?”

Namjoon startles when Jungkook slams the notebook shut. Taehyung peers at the Prince, and he can tell the latter has made his decision.

Jungkook, similar to when he had shown Taehyung, tugs the sleeves of his pullover up to his elbows. The basilisk slithers toward him, finding her home around his shoulders. Jungkook’s lids fall shut, and Taehyung watches the tattoos spread over Jungkook’s skin.

When Jungkook’s eyes open, they’re fully black. “I’m—”

“You’re a warlock!” Jimin springs up. “I knew all the arcanes Taehyung found with the ring couldn’t have only been about the basilisk or an object! I fucking knew it,” he exclaims and wiggles his finger between Taehyung and Jungkook as he burst into a maniacal laughter.

Dahee and Junhyun, on the other hand, are gawking at Jungkook, their mouths part open and eyes widened.

“Uhm... Yes, anyway.” Jungkook clears his throat and turns away from a hysterical Jimin to regard Taehyung’s parents. “I’m a warlock, as Jimin pointed out. I’m not just any warlock. I’m a necromancer.”

Jimin sobers up at this addition. “A what?”

“A necromancer. I can speak with the dead and help their souls pass. I don’t really want to go into too much detail, as they aren’t that important anyway, but this is what Taehyung had figured out and kept from you,” Jungkook reveals, and his gaze looks thankful when he looks at Taehyung.

Taehyung shrugs it off.

This secret had never been his to share.

Dahee, Junhyun and Jimin take the revelation a lot better than Taehyung had at the time.

Jimin plops down on his chair and fires a plethora of questions at the Prince who tries to answer some of them but gives up after the twentieth one. Meanwhile Taehyung’s parents mention their evident surprise — and awed interest, in Junhyun’s case. Dahee and Junhyun don’t seem put off or scared, and Jungkook's shoulders relax around a heavy sigh minutes later.

Dahee eventually shushes Jimin with a minuscule fireball aimed at his forehead.

“I know you have a lot more questions, but I don’t want to answer them all for the moment.” Jungkook's tattoos have withdrawn along with the black in his eyes.

“It is more than alright, Jungkook,” Junhyun smiles. “We’re simply… taken aback. I had never even thought that you could be more than a human.”

Dahee is eerily mute. She has this look on her face, mulling and calculating. Her gaze meets Taehyung’s. They don’t need to speak for Taehyung to know his mother has drawn similar conclusions to his: Jungkook could potentially aid in elucidating the plague, if the Elders allow it.

A quarter of an hour later, and once everyone’s — mainly Jimin’s — freak out has passed, Namjoon speaks.

“Yoongi, is your ring defective?” Namjoon asks, reading the notebook.

“No, it isn’t.”

“What is wrong?” Dahee wonders.

Jungkook retrieves the book from his friend to show the pages to Dahee, Junhyun and Jimin. “As you can see, there are several ancient arcanes detected. One of them is the one I currently have: necromancy. So the ability to speak with the dead and help souls pass, but here it says that there are two additional ancient arcanes. That I have two more. But I technically don’t.”

“You clearly have more than one,” Taehyung unhelpfully supplies.

“Well observed, detective,” Jimin sasses with a kick on Taehyung’s shin.

“The Arcane works in wondrous ways,” Junhyun brightens, who nurses the same fondness and fascination for arcanes as much as Taehyung does. “Your necromancy must be more complex than what you believe. The other two types found by the ring may be subcategories of necromancy.”

“That’d make sense,” Taehyung hums. “Arcanes have always been a spectrum.”

“Exactly, my son,” Junhyun agrees with a pride that warms Taehyung’s cheeks.

“How so?” Namjoon wonders, and Taehyung throws him a stony look. “Sorry. I’m not really familiar with dragonborns or warlocks’ arcane. I’ve only seen Yoongi’s.”

“For example, my grandfather has an arcane related to nature: a breath that allows him to enhance the properties of any kind of plant, flower and so on,” Taehyung explains, “but this is one among the umbrella of other types of nature arcanes that exist. Some dragonborns can breathe leaves, cherry blossom petals or vines. While others have a breath that can heal plants or help them grow. It’s endless, and it must be similar for necromancy, albeit with a more restricted pool. If we take into account the fact that necromancy is an expunged, ancient arcane, the diversity in its subcategories must be much, much more narrow. Where nature related arcanes have dozens of thousands of different subcategories, necromancy may have only a few dozen at most."

“You’re not even discreet. Have some decency,” Namjoon chides.

Taehyung's gaze snaps from the floor to bore onto Namjoon, thinking that the odd remark is directed at him. However he promptly realizes that it's aimed at Jungkook who’s unabashedly staring at Taehyung.

Taehyung's family laughs, for some reason.

There’s an aspect in Jungkook's gaze, in how he’s not even blinking, that unnerves Taehyung. Jungkook looks enthralled, for lack of a better word? Although Taehyung hasn’t done anything that warrants this, but then again, he is quite the incredible dragonborn.

Namjoon elbows Jungkook in the ribs. “Aurora to Jungkook.”

Jungkook jolts on his seat. His head darts to the right. “Hm?”

Yoongi snorts. “You’re a mess, kid.”

“Says you,” Jungkook retorts.

“Either way, this is what the other ancient arcanes could be,” Taehyung says, discarding whatever the hell happened.

“It could be, I suppose?” Jungkook ponders. “But I’ve never manifested anything else aside from the two skills I currently have.”

“We’ve always seen your arcane as one single entity, but perhaps your ability to speak with a soul and help them pass are separated.”

“I was thinking the same,” Taehyung nods. “It’s two entirely different processes. Plus you’ve got three sigils. The one on your throat is obviously to communicate with the dead, and maybe the one on your left or right hand is to help them pass.”

“That still leaves an unknown arcane,” Yoongi points out.

“And your precious ring can’t figure this out?”

“No.” The animosity Yoongi had once shown for Taehyung flashes to life again. “It’s too ancient.”

“Hoseok and Jin could help,” Jimin proposes. All eyes drift on him. “Hoseok dabs a lot in everything that is forbidden, and he often visits Eden. If there’s a place where we can get answers, it’s there.”

“Eden?” Namjoon echoes.

“Whoever created this city had a great sense of humor,” Jimin shrugs. “Eden, but every single thing here is a forbidden fruit, and everyone is a sinner.”

Dahee places a hand on Taehyung’s wrist. “It could help us as well. You may find useful oddities to bring here.”

“And we could also look for information regarding the primordial stone,” Jungkook adds. “I still haven’t found anything about it.”

“Might be because you’ve been busy sketching nixes in your book,” Taehyung quips.

“And I wonder why, uh?” Jungkook shoots back with an arched brow. “Who ruined my most prized book? Let me think… I believe it might have been a certain prick I married who still hasn’t apologized for it. At least not verbally.”

Taehyung slumps down the armchair. “I apologized once to you. That’s my yearly quota.”

Jimin claps his hands once. “Lovebirds, flirting can wait.” 

Taehyung zaps Jimin. 

“What’s the battle plan?”

“Visit Hoseok and Jin, then hopefully acquire a door to the black market."

"Isn't it risky for Jungkook to go there with the other potential tracker?"

"Eden is underneath the Seven Isles, so if there's another tracker on him, it'll be as though Jungkook is visiting the markets there."

"Plus it doesn't really matter anymore at this point, and I'll be safe since eight other people will be with me," Jungkook assures.

"True."

“Junhyun and I won’t be able to come with you,” Dahee says with a sigh. “We will be occupied handling matters with Vanae and the Council.”

“That’s fine," Taehyung dismisses. "We’ll report back to you if we find anything useful.”

“I have to prepare a couple things beforehand. I’ll need your assistance." Yoongi peers at Namjoon.

Jimin crosses a leg over the other as he leans over the couch’s arm. “May I help? I excel at following instructions.” He flips the bird in Taehyung’s direction when the latter utters a ‘No you don’t’.

Yoongi accepts after a beat.

Taehyung rolls his eyes then stands. “I guess I’ll visit Hoseok now."

Jungkook perks up. “Can I come with you?”

Taehyung shrugs and marches toward the exit door where his boots and cloak await him. Jungkook joins him. Once dressed up, they both exit the house, smacked by the glacial winter breeze.

“Have fun, lovebirds!”

Taehyung sends a trail of lightning somewhere in Jimin’s direction.

“My, my, my…”

Taehyung refrains himself from rolling his eyes. Again. “Can you help us or not?”

Hoseok is smug, a pompous smirk twisting his lips. “For a price.”

“Of course and for no price,” Seokjin intervenes and smacks the back of Hoseok’s head. “We’d love to help. Hoseok has a lot of contacts underground.”

“You two will need to buy some accessories to disguise yourself. Invest in cloaks with hoods. Maybe some masks as well for extra security. And bonus style points, Elders know you need them,” Hoseok adds with a judgmental glance in Taehyung’s direction.

“Fuck you.”

“Won’t our attire be a little strange then?” Jungkook worries.

“Nope. It’s nothing unusual down there. Rare are those who show their faces in Eden.”

“But you’ll get us there?”

“Yup." Hoseok pinches Seokjin. "You’ll come with us?”

“I don’t know if I can afford to. We’ve been quite busy lately, and I have a lot of catching up to do,” Seokjin muses.

“Buuut?” Hoseok draws out.

“But it’d be entertaining,” Seokjin grins.

“If you want to find anything related to ancient arcanes, Eden will have that. It's one of, if not the largest market. Illegal market,” Hoseok adds. “Make sure to bring a hefty amount of coins and gems.”

“We’ll be fine,” Taehyung assures.

“We’ll have to fly to the Seven Isles. There’s a secret passage there to access Eden, and then we’ll go from there.”

“Sounds simple,” Jungkook hums.

Hoseok lifts two fingers. “We can meet up in two days. I have a few people to speak with to prepare our arrival.”

“Two days is good. We’ll see you then.” Taehyung swivels around to walk outside.

“Thank you for your help,” Jungkook smiles.

“You’re my favorite one. I don’t like him,” Hoseok loudly whispers.

Taehyung flips Hoseok the bird over his shoulder as he leaves the shop, Jungkook following suit.

Unlike the first time they had visited Vanae’s market, today they’re stopped every few seconds by passersby who congratulate them, the news of the wedding ceremony having spread like wildfire.

Taehyung smiles at the people, accepting the gifts and accolades given to them.

“They’re so kind,” Jungkook chuckles, an arm looped around Taehyung’s.

“I know.” Taehyung doesn’t bother hiding his pride and contentment.

“They seem to love you a lot.”

“I’m just trying to do my best as their future leader.” Sometimes it feels like he isn’t doing well or enough at all, but he listens to his people and always does his damnedest to respond to their worries or requests.

“And it works,” Jungkook affirms. “You’re a great leader already.”

Taehyung glances at Jungkook, surprised that the admission isn’t trailed by a ‘prick’. Jungkook is peering at him, and when he smiles, Taehyung averts his gaze.

Taehyung thoughtlessly observes the ceremony’s headpieces he and Jungkook had decided to display on an end table in the living room. The Prince arrives in the kitchen and prepares his coffee mug along with his breakfast. 

Taehyung squints at Jungkook, scrutinizing him.

“The fuck’s going on with you?” Taehyung ultimately asks a short moment later.

“Uh?” Jungkook utters, his eyes as puffy and half closed as they always are in the morning, hair a damned mess.

“You’re being weird,” Taehyung notes. It sounds childish to his ears.

Jungkook is the one to squint at Taehyung as he pours himself some coffee. “I got in the kitchen, what, five minutes ago, and I haven’t spoken a word.”

Or this is what Taehyung believes Jungkook says because the Prince’s reply is slurred and mumbled through pursed lips. “You’re acting weird.” Taehyung tilts the moka pot up straight, stopping Jungkook from overfilling his mug and dousing the kitchen counter.

“What is weird, exactly?”

Taehyung doesn’t know. But he knows. “Just answer me.”

The pot rattles when Jungkook places it on the kitchen counter. “Nothing is going on.”

“Something is.”

“No?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t care. Why ask?”

“‘Cause it’s weird. You’re weird. You’re planning something?”

“I swear nothing is going on?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No. I’m confirming, but you being so adamant about it is confusing me. I just woke up,” Jungkook complains and flops down on a stool. “What is up with you?”

“I’m peachy,” Taehyung snips. His annoyance grows the more Jungkook’s own irritation does. “And that doesn’t answer my question.”

Jungkook slams the jar of sugar on the table. A scowl etches his face from where he’s installed in front of Taehyung. The surprise that washes over his face is sudden, as if understanding has finally dawned on him.

It’s even weirder.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes out. “Good morning.”

Or maybe it was all in Taehyung’s head? 

Taehyung mulls over this. He surveys Jungkook whose irritation vanishes, and Taehyung’s fizzles out as well. 

Hm…

Yeah, it must have been a trick of his mind, Taehyung concludes, and he relaxes while continuing his breakfast as if he hasn’t harassed Jungkook first thing in the morning.

Jungkook downright giggles as he twirls his coffee. “You’re something else.”

“Hah? ”

“You like routine, right?” Jungkook asks and Taehyung shrugs. “You clearly do.”

“And how would you know?”

“Because me forgetting to greet you with a ‘good morning’ for the first time since I moved here has disturbed you so much that it convinced you something was wrong with me.”

Taehyung pauses halfway through a bite, his cheeks bulging. “That’s not— This isn’t why—” He sputters. “Shut up. This wasn't about that. You were being weird.”

“Sure, sure.” Jungkook leaves his stool to move past Taehyung to lean over the counter, right next to Taehyung. “Sorry for forgetting to give you your ritual good morning, Sweetheart,” he croons with a tilt of his head. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Get off my face before I make it happen myself.”

Jungkook chuckles and sashays toward the living room.

They eat and drink their breakfast in companionable silence for the next half hour or so before Jimin barges inside the house, accompanied by Namjoon and the warlock.

“Good morning, lovebirds,” Jimin happily chirps.