Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jimin doesn’t come to his rooms the next morning. It’s just Taehyung at the door, Jungkook following a few steps behind like always. Yoongi can’t say he’s surprised. What he’s surprised about is that he’s out of bed at all. He feels like his mind is hovering just slightly outside of his body. He’s doing all the right movements, but he just feels… disconnected.

“Jimin’s not here?” Taehyung asks, looking around the room. He even peers into Yoongi’s room before he shoos him out.

Jimin normally hangs around after yuji to teach him. Yoongi has a small hope he’ll show up to do that, at least, but he’s nowhere to be seen. He sits cross-legged on his lounge for a while, biting his lip and staring at the door.

But he never comes.

Finally, Hobi comes and crouches in front of him. He doesn’t say anything.

“I slept with him,” Yoongi blurts, the words bubbling up from deep within. “We fucked, and then I messed it up. I don’t know how to fix it. Or if I even should.”

Hobi takes his hands.

“Tell me from the beginning.”

So Yoongi does. Slowly, haltingly. Hobi grips his hands and listens the whole time, not interjecting much.

Hobi frowns when Yoongi pauses towards the end of the story.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand why you said no? You’re more than a little gone for him. It’s sickening.” But he says it with a gentle quirk to his lips that lets Yoongi know he doesn’t really think anything negative about it.

Yoongi’s eyes drop to his lap.

“We can’t court.”

“So you’ve said. But why? I would’ve thought this was ideal. He’d have enough gold laying around to help our people out. He’s part of the royal family. You can’t get much higher than that, even if he is adopted.”

“He has a life here. Family. Two families. He’d never move to the highlands.”

Hobi tilts his head. “Is that what he said?”

Yoongi shifts. His arms come up to hug around his waist.

“No. He didn’t mention it. I didn’t, either.” Mostly because he hadn’t thought about it until he’d been laying in bed unable to sleep, everything playing in a loop in his mind.

“Then what was the reason?”

“We wouldn’t ever work.” Yoongi’s voice drains to a whisper.

“Can you say that when you haven’t even tried?”

Yoongi gives him a flat look. “It wasn’t meant to be, Hobi. It’s fine.”

Hobi frowns. “You’re not telling me something.”

“I need to find someone who can support my people. Jimin would’ve just been in it while it was fun.”

“Did he say that?”

“Very loudly and clearly. It’s fine. Truly. It was good to let off steam, but now I have to get back to what I came here to do.”

“I don’t think it is fine,” Hobi says slowly. “I don’t know what actually happened between you two, but… I’ve seen how you are with him. How you look at each other. You need to talk to him.”

Yoongi draws back. “I don’t have to do anything.”

Hobi makes a frustrated noise. “No, you don’t, but you should. You were happy with him. Don’t let him go this easily without sorting out whatever the fuck happened. That’s not something you should give up. You know how rare it is to find someone like that.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath, frustrated that it shudders in his chest. “I can’t, Hobi. Okay? I can’t.”

Yoongi can feel Hobi’s eyes on him, but he can’t make himself look up. His muscles are locked in place.

Hobi is silent for a long time, but then he sighs. “Okay,” he says gently. “I’ll drop it for now. But… you should think about reaching out to him. I’m sure you’re both hurt, but, Yoongi… you’re incredible. You have such an empathetic heart. You’re always trying to help others but sometimes I think you need to slow down and take a moment for yourself? It’s something that really scares me about you.

“I’m worried that you’re going to keep giving away so much of yourself until I wake up one day and there’s nothing left. That’s why I was so happy when you bonded with Jimin on the way here, and then recently too – you deserve this. You deserve to have this happiness, even though it can be really fucking terrifying.”

Hobi stays for a moment, brushes Yoongi’s hair behind his ears, then disappears. Yoongi curls up further, hugging his legs to his chest and resting his head on them. He thinks about Hobi’s words. He can’t stop trembling.

Yoongi loves Hobi with everything in him, but Hobi’s wrong about him. Yoongi isn’t selfless. If he did truly care about his people over everything, he would’ve taken up Hyo’s offer. Instead, he let his pride take over. His people would be fine now if he’d just said yes to Hyo. But he hadn’t.

And that vicious delight he’d felt when Hyo had stumbled back and shrunken in on himself. That sick power knowing he’d made someone else feel like that.

He can’t. He can’t. Jimin’s better without him. And Yoongi’s smart to get out now before Jimin is ruined by that ugliness inside him.

He can’t.

Yoongi is coming back from the gardens, stuck in his head, when he realises his feet have taken him to the courtyard the guard often trains in. He blinks, frowning around himself. The hallway is open along one side to the courtyard, with several steps leading down to it. Several groups of courtiers crowd the pillars, murmuring amongst themselves.

“Look at those muscles,” one man says, head tilting to the side. “I wouldn’t mind getting in the ring myself if I’m up against him.”

“Did you see him at Couranalia?” the woman sighs. “If he wasn’t so prickly, he’d have suitors lining up. Myself first.” She giggles when her friend elbows her.

Yoongi has a sinking feeling in his stomach when he looks out at the courtyard. Two men are whirling around each other, both armed with thin blades. The fight is fast, both relying heavily on offensive maneuvers.

Jimin’s dance-like fighting style is immediately obvious. Yoongi feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. He finds himself leaning against one of the pillars and watching. He can barely even pay attention to the other fighter. Jimin has his shirt off, muscles gleaming in the sun. Dirt is streaked down one side. Yoongi’s breath catches in his throat – he knows what those muscles feel like.

The fight ends quickly. Jimin’s feet dance, feinting to the side, skipping, twisting, moving so fast he blurs. But then he’s standing above his disarmed opponent, chest heaving, and the courtiers around Yoongi are cheering.

Jimin looks up. His eyes unerringly find Yoongi’s. Yoongi’s heart thumps loudly in his ears. He expects Jimin to make a face, to show something.

But he’s just blank.

He looks at Yoongi like he’s a stranger, then he turns away. Dismissing him entirely.

Pain springs into his chest. His heart aches. He takes a deep breath in and reminds himself – it’s better this way. Yoongi has to be that selfless person Hobi thinks he is. This is good.

He watches for a little longer. Jimin doesn’t glance his way again.

On the third day of silence, Hobi opens his door. Yoongi can’t quite see from where he’s lounging on a chaise, going through his correspondence.

He doesn’t really pay much attention until he hears Hobi’s frosty tone ask, “Can I help you, my lord?”

He realises exactly who it is.

Yoongi wants to groan. Fucking Hobi. He’s about as threatening as a puppy, but Yoongi appreciates it. Only a small amount, though.

“Hello, Hoseok. Yoongi?” Jimin’s head appears from around Hobi’s shoulder. “It’s lesson time.”

Yoongi blinks. That… wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all.

He places the letter aside, getting up slowly. “I thought we’d stopped that.”

Jimin’s face remains completely blank. “Not yet. I keep my word.” Then he spins and walks off, obviously expecting Yoongi to follow.

“Do you want me to come?” Hobi asks, voice low.

“It’s fine.” His hand touches Hobi’s shoulder and he manages to muster up something like a smile. “I’ll be back soon.”

He has to run to catch up with Jimin.

“Ah, where are we going?”

Jimin shoots him a look, eyebrows creasing down in annoyance. “Don’t make this any more awkward than it needs to be.”

Yoongi shuts up.

They arrive at the archery field. A few guards and courtiers practicing give them looks, but only briefly. It’s close to the cliffs, so Yoongi can hear the waves crashing far below. There’s also a salt-tinged breeze. It whips Jimin’s hair in his face and makes him look more approachable, despite the cold emptiness of his expression.

“Final test,” Jimin says. “Shoot some solid resin into the target and you’re done. Graduated.”

Yoongi stares at him. “What?”

“If you can do this, we’re done. Go on.” His hands gesture brusquely at the target sitting at the other end.

Done? Yoongi doesn’t want to be done.

“But there’s so much more to learn. I’m still not very good.”

Jimin shrugs. “Mama Yava asked me to teach you up to the same level as the kids. That’s where you almost are. The rest is practice. You can find someone else. Go.”

Yoongi searches his face for anything, but Jimin is utterly expressionless. He stares at Yoongi with dead eyes and Yoongi can see nothing of the Jimin who’d taught him over the past weeks. The Jimin who’d laughed at him and the Jimin who’d leaned in the kiss him.

Yoongi’s heart sinks.

You wanted this, he reminds himself.

He settles his mind, reaching for happiness.

He doesn’t feel anything.

Scrunching his eyebrows up a little, he thinks of the memories that make happy. The ones that make his chest feel like it’s glowing.

He breathes in and a little resin leaks into him, down his throat and into his hands. He holds a palm out and pushes the liquid resin out of his skin.

He knows pretty much immediately it’s not going to work. The glimpse he gets of it under his skin is blurry and bad, like it’d always been before Jimin. So when he tries to make an arrow to shoot at the target, it splutters almost immediately into gas.

“Again,” Jimin says, crossing his arms. His face is impassive.

Yoongi grits his teeth.

His next try is even worse.

“Try harder,” Jimin says, very unhelpfully.

“How am I meant to be doing this when you’re just standing there watching me?” Yoongi snaps.

“You should be able to cast under any circumstances with an emotion source. That’s what we’ve been practising for weeks.”

“Well I’m not ready to graduate, then, am I?”

Jimin’s lips press together.

“You are. You’re just not trying hard enough.”

“I’m trying really fucking hard, actually!” Yoongi hisses. “You’re a bad teacher if your best advice is ‘try harder’. That’s not my fault.”

“A bad teacher?” Jimin scoffs. “You were pitiful before I started teaching you. You couldn’t even create solid resin!”

Yoongi flinches back. “That’s… that’s really terrible to throw in my face. I’ve been trying.”

“Obviously not hard enough.” Jimin’s face twists a little, some emotion finally leaking through. “Just because you’ve had everything else in your life handed to you on a silver platter doesn’t mean this will. Casting takes actual work.”

“That’s not fair at all.” Yoongi’s arms clench around himself. “How could you say that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, highlord.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Did I show my uncouth upbringing? My street rat blood?”

Yoongi’s lips thin. “I’ve never thought that about you. Or said anything like that. You’re not being fair, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes burn, his jaw clenches and Yoongi knows that whatever comes out of Jimin’s mouth now is going to hurt. Badly. He cringes a little, waiting for it. He’d probably deserve it, anyway.

Emotions flit across Jimin’s face, then he goes blank again. Cold and hard as marble. He steps away from Yoongi.

“Find yourself another teacher,” he says, before spinning on his heel and walking off.

Taehyung hip-checks the person he’s dancing with and slides into the space in front of Yoongi.

“I think it’s about time we had a chat, hmm?”

Yoongi had been drifting through the party like he was weightless. Formless. Just the same as the past few days. He hadn’t wanted to come to this when he’d gotten the invite from the highlady of Lightfang, but had dragged himself along anyway. He hadn’t expected Jimin to be here. And he’d never even dreamed he’d see him laughing and drinking with a group of courtiers hanging off his every word. It’s like he’s channeling Seokjin tonight. Looking at him makes his heart hurt, so he tries to avoid glancing anywhere near that corner.

He’d resigned himself to struggling through another event alone.

“A chat?” Yoongi’s head tilts. “About what?”

Taehyung opens his mouth to reply but the musicians in the corner start up a much livelier tune, drawing a cheer from some courtiers. Annoyance flickers across his face. He grabs Yoongi’s hand and pulls him away from the dance floor.

“Where are we going?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer him, just drags him further into the gardens until they hit the maze.

“Uh… are you sure we won’t get lost in here?” Yoongi says nervously after quite a few twists and turns. This deep in, he can barely hear anything from the party. The vine-covered walls muffle everything.

Taehyung spins around and… glares at him? With his hands on his hips.

Yoongi is frozen. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Taehyung look at him like this. Or anyone at all.

“Wha—”

“You hurt Jimin,” Taehyung says, and Yoongi stiffens up immediately.

He clenches his hands behind his back and schools his face to polite disinterest. “I didn’t do anything to him.”

“Yes, you did! What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” he repeats.

Taehyung’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Don’t you dare shut down on me,” he snaps. “I trusted you. I trusted you with him! What did you do!”

“Why are you so quick to blame me?” Yoongi retorts. “You don’t even know what happened.”

“So you admit something did happen!”

Yoongi huffs, shifting on his feet in annoyance. “Why do you think this is your business? Stay out of it.”

“It became my business as soon as you hurt my best friend!”

“I didn’t hurt him.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Oh, come on. You don’t believe that.”

Yoongi thinks of Jimin staring at him, eyes full of betrayal. His heart aches.

He ignores it.

“We’re adults. I’m sure neither of us wants you here, poking around where you don’t belong.” Something occurs to Yoongi. “Does Jimin even know what you’re doing?”

Taehyung’s face falters and Yoongi knows he’s right. But the scowl comes back to his face very quickly.

“Whatever you did hurt him,” Taehyung repeats. “Badly. I haven’t seen him like this in a long time. You need to fix it. It’s not fair for him to be feeling this way when you’re also hurting. Whatever it is, you should talk it out like adults, instead of behaving like children!”

Yoongi swallows, arms coming around to hug himself. He keeps his face blank. “It doesn’t matter. It’s better this way.”

Taehyung’s hands fly up in the air. “What? Are you serious? What even? Don’t try this martyr bullshit, okay. At this point, I don’t care if you want him back or not, you at least owe it to Jimin and yourself to talk it out.”

Yoongi stays silent. Taehyung’s eyes narrow even more.

“Do you know how many people warned me against you, when you first arrived?” Taehyung asks suddenly.

Yoongi stiffens. “A lot.”

“Yes, Yoongi. A lot. Everyone, actually, except for Namjoon because he’s the only one that doesn’t treat me like I’m made of glass and knows I can make my own decisions. All because everyone else thinks I’m strange and all courtiers want to fuck me to get closer to my family— whatever. What I’m saying is, a lot of people warned me against you, but Jimin most of all. He wouldn’t shut up about you. Taehyung, he’s the same as the rest. Taehyung, he’s only using you for his own gain. But I ignored him because I knew you weren’t like that and I was right. And then he realised I was right as well.”

“What is your point.”

“My point is that you showed both of us who you really are. Even Jimin, who was ready to find fault in everything you did. You showed us that you have a really good heart and that you’re a good person, in spite of everything else that’s happened.” Taehyung’s hand shoots out and smacks him upside the head as he yells, “So why the fuck are you being an asshole!”

Yoongi stares at him in shock, mouth dropped open.

“W-What—”

“You’re being mean! Dense and mean! You’re not like that!”

Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath through his nose.

“How do you even know that?” Yoongi says, teeth clenching tight.

“Everyone thinks I’m some delicate flower. That I’m sheltered. But I grew up in this court, same as Seokjin. I grew up in our family – keep in mind this is the same family that maneuvered a marriage with the crown prince. I’m not an idiot. I notice things, especially things people don’t expect me to because they think I have air between my ears. And not once have you given me a reason to worry about you, Min Yoongi, or think you’re anything like the others.”

“What about now?”

“You’re being stupid,” Taehyung says frankly. “Not malicious. You couldn’t be malicious if you tried.”

His breath catches in his throat.

“You don’t know that,” he says, voice weak.

“Really? I don’t? I saw how you interacted with Jimin when he hated you. I’ve seen how you fight. You couldn’t even hurt a bug that bit you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Why? Because you punched Hyo?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen. “What? No one knows about that. Did Hobi tell you?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I just finished telling you that I’m not an idiot. I don’t know how no one else has put it together. You and Hyo stop courting and at the same time, he appears with a bruised face? I thought it could be Hobi – he’s very protective, you know – but I saw your knuckles afterward. Hyo’s slimey, anyway. I’m sure he deserved it.”

“He couldn’t fight back,” Yoongi argues. “I just… punched him.”

“Was he tied up?” Taehyung’s eyebrows rise up. “Were you holding a knife to him? Then he wasn’t powerless. He’s just a coward. And it wasn’t without provocation – what did he do to you?”

Yoongi keeps his lips shut. Taehyung shrugs.

“You don’t have to tell me. I know I’m right. Why are you so convinced you’re a terrible person?”

Yoongi feels a bit like he’s been punched in the gut. “You— you don’t know anything about me,” he says, echoing what he’d said to Jimin. His voice is weak.

Taehyung places his hands on his hips. “I’m not even going to respond to that. Saints. Don’t make me smack you again. I’m not afraid of using force, okay. What is it that you’re convinced makes you a terrible person?”

Yoongi’s throat tightens. His nails bite through his toga and into the skin beneath.

“I am.”

“Why?” Taehyung’s voice is incredulous.

“My people are starving, Taehyung,” he finally snaps. “Everyone back home is trying to scrape together enough to get through the winter and I’m here, using the last of our money to try and sell myself to the highest bidder. And I couldn’t even do that properly. My father ruined our entire territory because of his dumb delusions and… and I can’t be like him. I can’t. I won’t. Taehyung—” He feels like he can’t draw in enough breath but then Taehyung’s there, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. Yoongi clutches onto him, fingers grasping at his back.

Sobs crawl up his throat and he muffles them in Taehyung’s shoulder. He feels tiny claws across his own shoulder and realises Yeontan is half laying on him, head butting up under his hair. Taehyung’s hands run across his back, soothing words falling from his lips that Yoongi isn’t present enough to make sense of. The tone is enough.

Weeks and weeks of pressure come pouring out of him and he lets it. He lets himself sink into Taehyung, lets himself be weak. Taehyung… there’s nothing he really wants from him. There’s something holding him back with everyone else – Hobi’s too close, his own feelings for Jimin are too strong. But Taehyung is just there for him. Not relying on him for anything. Just there to offer a shoulder for Yoongi.

And Yoongi takes it.

Even when the tears calm down and he feels like he can take a full breath, he doesn’t want to leave Taehyung’s shoulder. It’s wet and warm and kind of gross, but he doesn’t want to face anything.

“You know,” Taehyung says, one hand gliding through his hair. “We could get married. I’m rich, did you know that?”

Yoongi laughs wetly. “Jungkook would kill me.”

“Mmm, I hope so. Nothing against you. But possessive Kook is so hot. Jimin would probably never talk to me again.”

Yoongi tenses up a little bit. He draws away from Taehyung’s shoulder, wincing at the patch his tears have left behind. Taehyung offers him his sleeve, but Yoongi uses the underside of his own to clean his face up. His eyes feel red and puffy. There’s not much he can do about that.

“Uh… thank you, Taehyung.”

Taehyung smiles. It’s so gentle Yoongi kind of wants to cry again. He doesn’t deserve someone like him in his life.

“You can make it up to me by talking to Jimin.”

Yoongi huffs and rolls his eyes, but he knows he’s not very convincing.

“Now, come on. Let’s sneak you and your ruined face back through the party so we can have a bath.” Taehyung plants a loud kiss on his forehead, making Yoongi do a weird mix of cringe and giggle. Then he grabs him by the hand and tugs him back the way they came.

“A bath? Together? Jungkook really will kill me.”

Taehyung giggles. “Oooh, yes.” He shivers dramatically. “Good.”

It takes Yoongi a few days to work up the courage and set his thoughts straight. He takes a few walks through the streets of the capital. He doesn’t go too close to the Blight, not wanting to test his welcome. It’ll hurt too much if they send him away. He doesn’t know Mama Yava and her family of stray kids very well, but he holds them all in his heart. It’s one of the happy memories he draws on.

He spends a bit of time on the archery field, staring down the target and trying not to fail completely at being a caster.

He spends more time on his balcony meditating and going through different forms. He ends up withdrawing from a lot of the court activities, promising himself it’s only for a handful of days.

Where he eventually ends up, though?

In front of Jimin’s door, shifting nervously from foot-to-foot.

He’s never been to Jimin’s rooms, but Taehyung had given him directions and told him when Jimin would be there with a smirk on his face. Yoongi breathes in, raises his hand to knock—

Pauses.

His heart in his throat. What is he even doing? Jimin won’t want to see him.

His hand drops.

No – he needs to at least talk this out. It’s unfair to leave them in this limbo. Taehyung was right about that.

He raises his hand to knock.

The door swings open at the same time. He freezes. Jimin, eyebrows pulled down angrily, also freezes. Then his scowl darkens.

“Why have you been hovering outside my room for the past ten minutes?”

“It wasn’t ten minutes,” Yoongi says, then wants to punch himself. That’s not how he meant to start. Dammit.

Jimin’s fingers tighten on the door.

Yoongi blurts, “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant to say. Can I… can I come in?”

Jimin’s fingers relax a little on the door and the scowl leaves his face. He still looks suspicious, though.

“Why?”

“I want to talk.”

Jimin’s eyes narrow. Yoongi fidgets.

“Fine,” Jimin eventually relents. He spins and disappears into the room. Yoongi hesitantly follows, looking around. In his head, Yoongi had maybe expected Jimin’s room to be utilitarian and bare. Instead, the walls are covered in paintings – scenes painted straight on the wall, like in Yoongi’s room, rather than anything hanging in a frame. It’s a complete mess of things, too. In the corner is an ocean scene but the brushstrokes are sloppy, not quite refined like the work of Taehyung’s Yoongi has seen. Next to the balcony doors is a towering building, the street below narrow and shadowed by makeshift bridges – the Blight. A night sky stretches across another wall, with the stars dissolving to butterflies on a pink background in the corner.

There’s a few lounges and cupboards, but nothing much. It’s set up much the same as Yoongi’s, with the bedroom off to the side. It’s obvious in the way that things aren’t quite clean or quite straight that Jimin has no attendant.

“Taehyung likes to paint on walls. Yours wasn’t the first.”

Yoongi shifts his focus back to Jimin. He’s standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“I like it,” he says quietly.

Jimin’s lips thin. “What did you come here for?”

The nerves flare up again and his hands clench into fists. He deliberately unclenches them, then walks over to a lounge and settles onto it.

“Would you like to sit? This’ll be easier when you’re not… looming over me.”

“Maybe I will when I know why you’re here.”

“I want to talk,” Yoongi repeats. “About… about that night at the Scarlet Moon. To explain things. And clear the air. I think… I think it’d be healthy for both of us.”

Yoongi meets Jimin’s eyes, even though it’s painful. Jimin looks hard, like untouchable diamond. And so, so distant. Yoongi had done this to him.

Then Jimin unfolds his arms and sits stiffly at the other end of the lounge. Yoongi twists a little, resting his knee on the cushions so he can face Jimin fully. He tries to meet Jimin’s eyes, but it’s too hard. He looks down into his lap and takes a deep breath.

“I need you to know before anything else that I wasn’t lying when I said your birth didn’t bother me. It doesn’t. And it never has, Jimin. Whether you were born in a palace or in the Blight doesn’t matter.”

“How privileged of you to say.”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open. Then he replays what he said and groans. “I didn’t mean it like that, Saints, no, I meant it like—”

Jimin waves his hand, looking the tiniest bit guilty. “I knew what you meant. I shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry. Continue.”

Yoongi lets out a relieved breath. “Okay. Okay, good. I just… I wanted to give you some context for… for how I reacted. To help you understand.”

Jimin doesn’t look very inviting still. He crosses his arms again and leans back into the lounge. His eyes stay steady on Yoongi. He doesn’t say anything. Yoongi tries to take that as a good sign.

“I… I don’t have the best view towards marriage.” Yoongi can’t read anything on Jimin’s face. It’s too hard to look at. He tilts his head up to look at the ceiling instead. “Or any meaningful relationship, really. My parents… it wasn’t good between them. My father hurt my mother. Often. And for the smallest of things. And she was just… powerless. Enslaved to him and his thousands of tiny rules. I don’t know if they ever loved each other. Or even liked each other. He just… had this hold over her, right up until she snapped and betrayed him to the court. And, well. You know the rest of how that went. But my point is, I never wanted to bind someone to me like that. But then the floods happened, and my father had left behind serious debt, and I knew it was my only option. It was okay, though, because I knew it’d just be superficial. If there was nothing real between us, there’d be no opportunity to turn someone’s emotions against them. I wouldn’t get that opportunity to manipulate someone.”

He leans his arm into the backrest, resting his head on it. He feels exhausted. He keeps his eyes on Jimin, whose eyebrows are pinched together.

“What… what do you mean?” he asks softly.

“I feel it in me, sometimes,” Yoongi says, “that… that anger. The same as my father.”

The words are painful, ripping up his throat as they come out. It makes him want to throw up, but he needs to tell Jimin. Jimin deserves to know. He needs to know because then he’ll understand Yoongi is the problem, not Jimin.

“You’ve probably guessed my father was violent.” Yoongi breathes in and tries to reach that meditative state. Tries to rid his voice of emotions. “He never saw it as abusive. To him, it was helpful. Sometimes… it’s taken me a long time to realise that it’s not help. It’s abuse.

“If my mother ordered the wrong kind of olives for the household, he’d slap her so she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. If she embarrassed him in front of a visiting courtier, he’d starve her for two days until she learned.” Jimin’s mouth is open, eyes wide. Yoongi continues on, keeping his emotions stubbornly on lockdown. “He didn’t start on me until I manifested. He’d heard somewhere that distress can make casters draw on their sources easier. Like being in pain.”

“That’s not the way emotion sources work,” Jimin breathes.

Yoongi shrugs one shoulder, just a jerky up-down. “Don’t tell him that. He refuses to be wrong. It was all very clinical to him, until he got mad. And then it was bad.” Yoongi’s side tingles. “But I’m not telling you this for pity or whatever. I don’t need that. I just want you to understand that… that sometimes I think there’s something inside me and I’m more like my father than I want to admit. That I have that same anger. And… and the main point is, I wouldn’t subject someone like you who is so full of life and so good to something like that. That’s why I refused to be courted by you. Not any other reason, okay? It’s me.”

Jimin stares at him with wide, searching eyes.

“Yoongi…” he breathes. Then he’s scooting across the lounge and throwing his arms around his neck. He squeezes tight. Yoongi is frozen. “I’m so sorry,” Jimin continues, voice wet. “I’m so sorry I ever said you were like your father. I’m sorry for not really listening again and just assuming.”

Yoongi’s arms come up slowly. He gently cups Jimin’s jaw, drawing him back. Jimin’s eyes are watery, his nose red. It hurts Yoongi’s heart to see him like this.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything,” he says firmly. “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.”

Jimin leans into his touch a little.

“Yoongi,” he says, his voice soft. Yoongi’s eyes ache. “I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.”

Yoongi’s hands drop from Jimin’s face. “What?”

One of Jimin’s hands comes up and smoothes Yoongi’s hair back from his face. Yoongi unconsciously tilts a little bit into the touch.

“I’ve seen a lot of you, Min Yoongi,” Jimin says, “and without any doubt, I know you are nothing like your father.”

“Jimin…”

“No.” Jimin’s tone is sharp. “You’ve had your turn to talk. Now it’s mine and you will listen. There is nothing of your father in you. You’re incapable of being malicious. You’re so damn good and you don’t even know it.” Jimin’s hand is still carding through his hair.

“I hurt you,” Yoongi whispers.

“Maybe,” Jimin says, shrugging. “Maybe I also hurt myself. And you. I think our only problem is letting pride and fear get in the way, and never talking about things properly. I really appreciate you telling me this. I know it must’ve been hard.”

Yoongi’s eyes drop down to trace along the embroidery of the lounge. “I wanted you to know that it wasn’t your fault.”

Jimin scoffs, making Yoongi’s eyes fly back to his. “I think it was. But I don’t really want to sit here arguing about who’s more at fault here. I want to know what we do now.”

Yoongi’s heart stops. “I… didn’t think that far ahead.”

Jimin tucks some hair behind Yoongi’s ear, then his hand falls to his lap.

“That’s okay. We can talk about it like the two mature, emotionally intelligent people we are.”

Yoongi grimaces. Jimin grins, a sharp, fleeting thing. Then his face settles into something more serious. He reaches between them and grabs Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi stares down at them – Jimin’s fingers are smaller, chubbier, but decorated with hard calluses. Yoongi’s are long and knobby, pale and delicate.

Jimin breaks the silence, saying, “I still would like to court you.”

Yoongi’s eyes fly up. His fingers clench in Jimin’s hands. Jimin is watching him carefully and Yoongi knows the fear is naked across his face.

“I… I can’t… I don’t know—”

Jimin smiles sadly, squeezing his hands. “Do you like me, Yoongi?”

“I do, of course I do, but—”

“Okay. Then that’s enough. We don’t have to court right now.” Yoongi’s breath leaves him in a rush. He feels boneless against the back of the couch. “We can just… take it slowly. See how it goes.”

Yoongi’s hands twist until his fingers are threaded through Jimin’s. “You don’t mind?”

“I’d prefer to be with you in whatever way you’ll have me than be without. Plus, I think after these past few days, slow is a good idea.”

Yoongi can feel the fine tremours shaking across his skin and knows by the way Jimin’s hands tighten around his that he feels it too.

“I’m scared,” Yoongi admits, “but I want to try this.”

Jimin smiles and it’s breathtakingly beautiful. “Can I kiss you?”

Yoongi nods mutely, somewhat dumbly.

Jimin leans forward. Slowly, his face turns into the only thing he can see. And then Yoongi’s eyes are sliding shut and Jimin’s lips are touching his, dry and soft. It’s a gentle kiss, nothing more than a brush. Yoongi makes a sound, like a sigh with the barest hint of voice to it. Jimin chuckles against his lips, but doesn’t draw away. Yoongi tilts his head, opening his mouth a little and encouraging Jimin to deepen the kiss.

He doesn’t. He stays pressing soft kisses along his lips, across his jaw and back. Yoongi huffs and untangles their fingers. Then he pushes Jimin away from him and swings his leg over so he’s straddling him. Yoongi’s toga shifts, the fabric falling away so one of his legs stick out. Yoongi settles in Jimin’s lap and grabs his hair, tugging on it.

“Kiss me properly,” Yoongi says, holding his head in place and ducking down.

Jimin laughs, eyes crinkled shut. Yoongi can only pepper kisses around his lips until he stops. But when he does, his hand slides up Yoongi’s bare leg and he goes for it – all hot breaths, tongue and lip. Yoongi melts into him, hands sliding to rest on his shoulders.

Jimin’s shoulders are corded with muscle and Yoongi wants to sink his teeth into them. He wants to feel all of Jimin’s power surrounding him, consuming him. As Jimin’s tongue sweeps into his mouth, he lets out a shuddering breath and tries to wiggle even closer. In the same moment, he realises Jimin’s hard – he can feel him against his ass. He realises he’s also hard and moments away from grinding against Jimin.

Jimin seems to realise this too, because he pulls away with a gasp. His eyes are hooded and dark and fixed solely on Yoongi. His lips are swollen. Yoongi’s sure he doesn’t look much better.

“We should probably stop,” Jimin says. His voice is carefully neutral.

Yoongi bites his lip. Jimin’s eyes fasten on to the movement. The power he has over Jimin thrums through him. He realises Jimin would be happy to keep going, but is stopping for Yoongi.

He feels a rush of warmth. There’s an urgency in him to take everything he can from Jimin as fast as possible, before he realises Yoongi’s no good and leaves him in the dust. But… he doesn’t have to do that. Jimin plans to be around. At least until Yoongi fucks it up, which he will.

But that time isn’t now.

That urgency dies. Along with it, his need to make Jimin fall apart right now rightnowrightnow. They’d only just resolved things. As much as he loves the feel of Jimin on him, Yoongi doesn’t feel great about jumping back in so quickly.

He shifts back a little so he’s resting more on Jimin’s thighs.

“You’re right,” he says, pouting a little bit.

Jimin smiles ruefully, eyes filled with warmth. “Aw, you’re so cute,” he coos, reaching up to rub his thumb along Yoongi’s pout. Yoongi makes a face and slaps his hand away, flopping sideways onto the lounge.

“Now you’ve ruined the mood.”

“We agreed to stop!” Jimin says, laughing.

Yoongi pouts harder through the laughs that’re trying to escape.

“Yeah, but… still.”

Just looking at Jimin, collapsed against the lounge giggling, makes Yoongi’s chest burst with happiness. He feels… lighter. Like he can take on anything. Like he’s safe with Jimin, no matter what.

He wants to kiss him again. He knows he probably shouldn’t, if they want to keep things slow. Which he does. He can’t have it all exploding again like before.

That brings him a little bit more back into reality.

“I should probably go,” he says softly.

The laughter dies off, but Jimin still watches him with gentle eyes.

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay,” Yoongi says. He doesn’t move.

Jimin kicks out at him, catching him in the leg with his small, bare foot.

“Get out.”

Yoongi leans further into the couch, feeling playful. “But I’m too comfortable,” he whines.

Jimin huffs, standing up and tugging Yoongi after him. They end up chest-to-chest.

“If you don’t leave now I probably won’t be able to stop kissing you,” Jimin says, voice low. “And… I think it could be good for us to spend some time thinking before we jump back in again?”

Yoongi breathes out, nodding slowly. “You’re right. I don’t really want to leave, though.”

Jimin smiles, leaning forward and pecking him on the corner of his lips.

“Too bad!” he says, pushing on Yoongi’s shoulders until he stumbles back. “Out you get!”

And then Yoongi’s out in the hallway and the door is slamming shut. Yoongi stares at it in shock, blinking.

It opens again after a moment and Jimin peers out.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay? You should probably fix your hair. You look liked you’ve just been fucked.”

And then the door shuts again.

When he gets back to his rooms, Hobi is frowning in the doorway to his bedroom. Yoongi doesn’t really give it much mind, lips and hands still tingling from earlier.

“Hobi,” he says, trying to keep his steps as measured as possible and not act like a total idiot with a crush. “It went… it went really well, I think? No, I know, it definitely went well—”

“I don’t mean to cut you off,” Hobi says, cutting him off, “but you didn’t leave a letter on your bed, did you?”

Yoongi stops, brow creasing. “What?” Then he’s pushing past Hobi and into his room. Perched innocently on his bed is a folded note that definitely hadn’t been there when he’d left.

“I just got back from the laundry and it was there, I don’t remember seeing it before?”

Yoongi feels cold go down his back. His title is scrawled messily on the front. He snatches it up and opens it, breath caught in his throat.

A tiny pouch tumbles out. He stares at the words.

“What is it?” Hobi says. “Who left it?”

“I need to see Jimin,” he says, folding it back up with precise movements. Hobi stays right behind him as he walks as fast as he can without running to Jimin’s rooms.

Jimin answers after the first knock, door cracking open to show a smirk and a sliver of chest revealed by a loose bathrobe.

“I remember saying in the morning, Y— what’s wrong?” He morphs into warrior Jimin in an instant. He throws open the door and ushers them in, checking behind them as he closes it. “What is it?” he asks again, whirling around. “Are you both okay?”

Yoongi wordlessly shoves the note at him. Jimin scans it, frowning. It’s simple:

Seneschal Ong Daeho. Tomorrow.

“This came with it too. I didn’t open it.” He hands the tiny pouch over. It’s flat, barely bigger than his thumbnail. The top is fastened shut.

Jimin warily tugs it open and peers at it. He goes over to the table and taps a little bit out. It’s some kind of dark powder, purple-ish in hue. Jimin leans towards it and wafts it gently to his nose.

“Nyberry powder,” he says. “I’m fairly sure. Can’t be certain unless it’s actually consumed. Either of you fancy a slow death?”

“So he wants me to poison someone. The seneschal.”

No one needs to ask who ‘he’ is.

Jimin nods. “Nyberry is a slow-acting poison. The effects don’t hit until later and in the right amounts, it’ll look like his heart gave out. Did either of you see anyone around your rooms? I assume you were gone as well, Hoseok.”

Hoseok looks stressed. “No. No one out of the ordinary.”

“What about the ordinary? Give me names and I’ll look into each of them. You too, Yoongi. I doubt the contact who dropped this off knows anything – whoever this is is too smart for that – but it’s worth a try. I imagine it’s someone low in the hierarchy, like a servant or a guard. Otherwise they’d be using that person to poison the seneschal instead of you. Or perhaps this is a test?” Jimin’s eyes grow a little distant, his brain working fast as he trails off.

“A test?” Yoongi repeats. “I can’t poison someone. I can’t kill a person who has nothing to do with this.”

Jimin’s eyes snap back into focus. He reaches out and cups Yoongi’s cheek.

“You won’t have to, okay?” His words are warm. Yoongi leans into the touch. “I’ve got an idea.” Then he’s spinning around and disappearing into his bathing room. “Give me a moment!”

The room is silent until Hobi says, “Well. That’s a new development. I guess your talk went well, huh?”

Yoongi shoots him a look. “I told you that.”

Hobi rolls his eyes, saying, “Sorry I was more preoccupied with the person who broke into your room.”

“Have you heard of multi-tasking?”

Hobi huffs and comes closer, leaning in to ask, “So? What happened?” His eyebrows wiggle.

Yoongi pushes him away, making a face. “Is now really the time?”

“Why not?”

“He’s just there,” Yoongi hisses lowly.

“He’s occupied. And I need to know immediately. C’mon! Details.”

“We talked.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what else happened? Did you kiss? Did you fuck— you’re going red!” Hobi gasps. “You fucked?!”

Yoongi lunges towards Hobi, scrambling to shut his mouth with his hands. “No! What! No! Shut up! He’s right there!”

Hobi’s next words come out garbled, so it sounds like, “Oo u uck?”

“Shut up—”

“Are you two okay?”

Yoongi’s hands drop and he whirls around. His face feels like it’s on fire.

“What? Yes. Fine. What?”

Jimin’s eyes look between the two of them and narrow. He must decide to leave it, though, because he says, “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”

Yoongi can’t sit still. He wants to see Jimin, wants to hold his hands and breathe in whatever oils he puts on his hair, but he can’t. They’d decided it was too risky for Jimin to be seen hanging around their rooms, so he’s off making a very public appearance in the training yard.

Hobi isn’t really helping him stay calm. He hasn’t stopped pacing all morning. They’re both stressed out, neither able to calm themselves down, let alone someone else.

It’s a relief when the knock finally comes. Hobi jumps and makes a noise.

“Good work acting unsuspicious,” Yoongi says.

“Like you can talk,” he replies, which… is fair. Hobi pauses just before opening the door, glancing over his shoulder back at Yoongi. “Ready?”

Yoongi schools his face and settles his fidgeting. He nods.

Hobi opens the door and bows. The seneschal is a thin man with grey at his temples, his cheeks almost gaunt. He’s also a good head above Hobi, so he has the appearance of one of those really thin trees. Like a strong wind might knock him over.

“Highlord,” he greets, bowing low to Yoongi. Yoongi inclines his head.

“Please take a seat,” he says, waving at the lounge opposite. Between them sits a table laden with food: olives and fruit and bread and even some weird ocean things Yoongi still refuses to go near. There’s also a steaming pot of tea. Yoongi tries not to eye it too much as Hobi comes over and starts pouring.

“Your message sounded urgent, highlord,” the seneschal says. He picks out a fig and nibbles delicately on it. Hobi finishes pouring the tea and bows, then withdraws. “What can I help you with?”

“It is quite urgent,” Yoongi says, putting as much cool distance in his voice as possible. He’s trying to channel Seokjin at his snobbiest. He picks up his tea and hesitates only a moment before taking a sip. “I’ve been here some weeks now and I’ve found my rooms quite lacking.”

The seneschal picks up his own tea, cupping it between his hands but not taking a sip. Come on.

“Oh, apologies,” the seneschal says, without looking very apologetic. Yoongi doesn’t blame him. As the one running the palace, he’d be used to all kinds of noble demands. “We kept it in the same condition your family left it in. Would you like to move to a different suite?” His hands shift on the tea and Yoongi thinks he’s about to take a sip, but he doesn’t. “You would have to leave the wall painting behind, unfortunately. But I know there’s a nice set of rooms recently open on the west side, facing across the strait to Koryöu.”

Yoongi takes a long sip of his tea, trying to encourage the man to do the same. “No, I don’t think a move is quite necessary.” He sips again, very purposefully. “But I’d like to look into furnishing options. And hiring more attendants. One is simply not enough.”

And finally, finally, the man brings the cup up to his mouth and takes a long, deliberate sip. Yoongi’s tense back muscles relax in a rush. He grabs a handful of grapes to cover it.

“Hmm,” the seneschal muses, taking another sip of the tea. “I had a feeling it might be about this.” He smiles thinly. “I would be more than happy to accommodate any requests you have. Indeed, I can already think of at least four candidates who could be suitable.”

Now that the seneschal is drinking from the tea, Yoongi allows himself to relax. He spins a whole lot of bullshit about what he wants, lets the seneschal believe he’s incredibly picky so he won’t be too surprised in the future when Yoongi rejects all of his suggestions – Yoongi really doesn’t want anyone apart from Hobi here. He couldn’t afford it even if it’s what he wanted.

For the rest of the meeting, Yoongi watches the seneschal closely. Jimin had assured him that the poison on the seneschal’s cup was slow-acting, that it’d take about the same time as the nyberry powder to kick in so he’d be cleared of suspicion. But Yoongi can’t help but be paranoid the poison will work now instead, or maybe it’ll accidentally kill him instead of just knocking him out.

But he can’t show any of this. He has no idea how the seneschal fits into this or even if he’s aware of the target on his back. So he remains as coldly polite as possible through the whole, uncomfortable thing.

Finally, it wraps up and Yoongi walks the seneschal to the door.

“I am excited to start on this project for you, highlord,” the seneschal says with no inflection, not looking excited in the least. “I will aim to show you the suitable furniture and attendants in two days time. Apologies for the delay, but the Vizier announced earlier that the peace treaty has been signed, with the celebration happening tomorrow evening. We will have a great deal more resources free after this.”

Yoongi blinks. Maybe if he’d left his rooms at all today, he’d have heard that. But he hadn’t. He makes a note to congratulate Namjoon when he next sees him.

“That’s adequate. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

The pleasantries don’t last much longer after that and then he’s gone. Yoongi leans back against the closed door with a sigh. Hobi pops out of Yoongi’s room.

“He’s not dead yet, right?”

“Very alive. No symptoms at all.” Yoongi chews his lip. “What if it doesn’t work? Oh no, what if you got the teacups mixed up and I had the poison instead?”

“Give me a little credit,” Hobi says, coming towards him. “I’m not a complete idiot.” He tugs Yoongi out of the way of the door. “You’re going to spend the whole day freaking out if you don’t occupy yourself. We’re going to go down to the training yard and stare at Jimin’s muscles, okay? Okay.”

Yoongi can’t really argue with that logic.

Yoongi sits on his balcony in the cool evening, too wired to go to sleep. He wants to see Jimin, but he can’t. Not yet. He’d spent the evening at an event the Lightfang family had put on to showcase the dance troupe they patronised. It had been painful to make small talk and not know what was going on with the seneschal. If their plan had worked. He’d kept an eye on the Vizier, who the seneschal direct reports to. Towards the end, someone had hurried in and whispered in her ear and they’d left together. Yoongi hopes that means it worked.

The still of the night is broken when he hears a door sliding open and voices.

“...see why I’m not invited.”

It’s Taehyung’s distinctive voice, the pout very evident in his tone as he continues, “I’m the one that facilitated this whole thing!”

Yoongi stumbles up and rushes to the edge of the balcony.

“I don’t care,” comes Jimin’s reply. “If you keep being annoying I’ll start ignoring him again. How about that?”

Taehyung squawks. “You wouldn’t!”

Yoongi hangs over the railing and frowns down at the part of Taehyung’s back he can see.

“That’s not very nice,” he calls down.

Taehyung jumps and whirls around. Jimin pushes past him to come into Yoongi’s vision. A bright smile spreads across his face and Yoongi can’t help but mirror it, cheeks tinging pink.

Jimin’s head tilts to the side. “Well,” he purrs, “I’m not very nice.”

Taehyung elbows Jimin in the side, giving him a disgruntled look before beaming up at Yoongi. “Hello, Yoongi! Were you waiting for Jimin?”

Yoongi opens his mouth to answer, but Jimin beats him to it.

“Yes, he was. Weren’t you sweetie? Honey bun? You delicious little deep-fried cinnamon sugar dough ball, I want to just—”

“Fine. Fine!” Taehyung’s voice is frantic, voice white. “I don’t want to hear this! I’m leaving!” He whirls around and is gone. Yoongi hears his door slide shut.

Jimin breaks out in snickers. Yoongi can feel the blush spreading across his cheeks.

“I hope you’re out here for some other reason and not because you’re going to jump up,” Yoongi says, folding his arms.

“You’ll be hoping in vain, then.” Jimin hops onto the railing, balancing on it easily. “I’ll try it without resin this time, though.” His knees bend down and his eyes narrow upwards.

“Just take the stairs, you idiot!” Yoongi hisses, but it’s too late. Jimin is springing up, fingers outstretched. Yoongi’s heart flies into his throat. Jimin manages to grab onto the floor of the balcony above. He pulls himself up easily. Yoongi’s wide eyes are caught on the thick muscles that stand out on his arms. Jimin gets his feet under him, turns and jumps onto Yoongi’s railing.

“Hello, honey bun,” he says, then leans across the railing to kiss Yoongi.

Despite the terrible name, Yoongi sinks into it, tension bleeding from his shoulders. He sighs into Jimin’s mouth as the kiss deepens.

Then his hips dig into one of the decorative carvings and he remembers Jimin is at risk of falling to his death. He breaks the kiss, ignores the way Jimin tries to chase him and grabs his shirt tight. He hauls him across the railing.

Jimin splutters, then laughs, stumbling to get his feet underneath him.

“What was that for?”

Yoongi punches him on the shoulder.

“What was that for?” Jimin says again, pouting and rubbing his shoulder dramatically.

“I told you to take the stairs,” Yoongi says. “Stop showing off!”

“Can’t help it,” Jimin says with a smug grin. “Plus, look at these muscles.” He pushes up his sleeves, flexing an arm so his biceps pop out. “They deserve to be seen.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and pretends like he wasn’t staring at them moments before. He spins on his heel and walks back into his rooms.

“Wait. Where are we going? What?” Jimin sounds a little unsure. It’s Yoongi’s turn to feel smug.

“We can’t talk out there where anyone could hear us.”

Yoongi enters his room, then sits with his feet drawn up under him on the bed. He looks up and sees Jimin hovering in the doorway.

“Can’t we speak out here then?” he says, gesturing behind him at the main room.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “And keep Hobi awake? No.” His eyes narrow a little. “Are you scared of being in my room?”

Jimin jolts into motion. “No,” he says. He gets onto Yoongi’s bed on the other side, sitting as far away as possible.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi eyes his very straight posture and the way his hands sit awkwardly on his thighs, like he’s not sure what to do with them.

“Yes. Please, proceed.” He waves a hand.

Yoongi stares at him blankly. “The seneschal? The poison? What happened.”

Jimin blinks. “Oh. Yes. Right.” He clears his throat and relaxes a little. “It worked. The seneschal is now locked away in a safehouse in the city. The burial will take place in two days and I’ve already organised for a body to be wrapped in the traditional shrouds in his place. The family won’t know the difference.”

Yoongi winces. “You really think we should keep the family in the dark? Isn’t that cruel?”

“It might be.” Jimin’s eyes are hard. “But I’m not willing to risk it. We have no idea who is in on this. The more people who know, the more likely our enemy will find out you’re not actually helping. Which means along with Namjoon and Seokjin and the GoldSpark, you’ll also be killed.”

Yoongi sucks in a deep breath, hugging himself a little. “Yeah, I guess so. That makes sense.” His voice is small.

Jimin’s shoulders soften a little and he scoots across the bed. He doesn’t say anything, but takes one of Yoongi’s hands and threads their fingers together.

“Do we know why he was even targeted in the first place?” Yoongi asks.

“I haven’t been able to uncover anything yet,” Jimin says, lips thinning. “He managed everything that was happening in the palace. When he wakes up, I’ll interrogate him to see if he saw anything suspicious. Until then, I’ll keep a close eye on his replacement.”

“You think it has something to do with getting him out of the way?”

Jimin shrugs. “It might. Anything’s an option, at this point. My codebreakers still haven’t gotten anything from the note you passed on and I don’t think they will, not without the key. I’ve heard no new intel from Artifice. So… all we can do is wait. And watch.” Jimin takes a deep breath in and Yoongi can see it shudder in his chest.

It’s Yoongi’s turn to squeeze Jimin’s hand, trying to offer as much comfort as he can.

“We’ll find out their plan,” he says firmly. “No one will get hurt.”

Jimin smiles at him, but his eyes are sad. “I should get back to bed.”

“Or you could sleep here,” Yoongi blurts, fingers twitching around Jimin’s. Jimin’s eyebrows jerk up and Yoongi blushes. “Not like that. Just… stay. I’m worried.”

Jimin’s head tilts to the side, his hair flopping into one eye.

“Okay,” he says softly. “I’ll stay.”

Taehyung doesn’t show up for yuji the next morning. Jimin looks a little bit frantic until Jungkook shows up, blinking at them with his too-wide eyes and saying he’ll be along later. He doesn’t give any explanation to where he is and Jimin eventually gives up.

It feels weird going through the forms without Taehyung’s constant fidgeting. He tries not to worry about it too much.

Towards the end, there’s a thump against the door. They all flinch. Hobi jumps up to get the door, frowning. Yoongi’s twisted around to look, so he sees the blank confusion on Hobi’s face.

“Wha…”

“Hello! Did you all miss me?” Taehyung stomps in past Hobi, carrying a chest. His arms are straining from the weight. Jungkook jumps up to help him but Taehyung just dumps it on the floor with a great clinking noise.

“Taehyung,” Yoongi says, eyes darting between him and the chest. “What are you doing?”

Yeontan scurries down Taehyung’s shoulder, jumping off to dart into Yoongi’s room. Yoongi holds in a sigh as he watches the ferret go.

“Open it!” Taehyung says. He’s grinning, shifting from foot to foot. “Open it open it open it—”

“Okay yes, I’m going,” Yoongi snaps, frowning at him. “I don’t like surprises.”

Taehyung’s grin only widens. “I know. I don’t care. Hurry up.”

Yoongi sighs aloud this time, kneeling down in front of the chest. He can feel Jimin hovering over his shoulder.

Yoongi flicks open the locks, opens the lid—

And stares.

Gold coins. The chest is filled with gold coins. Yoongi can’t tear his eyes away. It’s more wealth than he’s seen in a very long time. Perhaps ever. The room is dead silent. He reaches out a trembling hand and taps a nail against a coin. It plinks.

It’s real gold.

“What is this?” Yoongi breathes. He looks up to find Taehyung has knelt down next to him without him realising it. There’s a smile still on Taehyung’s face, but it’s gentler now. His eyes are soft.

“Money,” Taehyung says. “Enough to buy food to help your people get through winter.”

Yoongi’s not sure if he can even breath. He thinks that if he blinks, this’ll all be an illusion. A dream. It can’t be real. These things don’t happen to Min Yoongi. To other people, maybe, but not to him. Life taught him the meaning of cruelty early on and he’d learned never to expect anything of anyone. To only truly rely on himself.

But this…

Yoongi can’t believe it.

“W-What?” he gets out, voice shaking. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I… I didn’t realise it was that bad until you told me. And you know my family. We’re rich. So I withdrew everything I could from the treasury and sold a few of my paintings and… here we are. A way to save your people without selling yourself to do it.” Taehyung gnaws on his lip, looking a little tentative. “Actual supplies would be more helpful, I know, but I’m not really sure what I’m doing when it comes to that. Or if you’d buy grain from here or somewhere closer to your territory. Or anything, really, Yoongi can you say something? Did I overstep?”

“Why?” Yoongi’s voice is a flimsy thing. “Why would you do this?”

Taehyung’s head tilts to the side and he looks at him strangely, as if the answer is obvious. “This is what family does for each other,” he says. “We’re family, so we’ve got to look out for one another. I really did try and think of other options but— oh no, what did I say? Why are you crying? Yoongi why are you crying?”

Emotions are building up higher and higher in Yoongi and all he can do is throw himself forward, clutching Taehyung tight and burying his face in his shoulder.

“You idiot,” he mumbles, hands fisting in his toga. “You idiot.”

Taehyung’s arms come around him, warm and strong. “This is a lot of mixed signals. I’m going to interpret this as Yoongi for I love you too.”

Yoongi chokes out a laugh, weakly thumping an angry fist on his back. Taehyung snickers.

“This has gotta be hundreds of gold coins,” comes Hobi’s voice from behind him. He can hear him shifting through the coins. “Saints. Saints. This is a fortune.”

“What this is is sabotage.” Jimin’s voice is sulky. Yoongi draws back from Taehyung, scrubbing any evidence of tears away from his eyes and searching for Jimin. He’s standing on the other side of the chest, half scowling and half pouting down at it. “Helping Yoongi and his people was my plan.”

“You’re too late,” Taehyung taunts, smiling smugly. “Now I’m Yoongi’s favourite.”

“You what?” Yoongi’s reeling all over again. “You too?”

Jimin’s gaze softens when it lands on him. “Of course,” he says, mild exasperation in his voice. “I told you I would. Can you stop looking so shocked that the people who love you want to help you? I’ve been working something out with the Vizier. She owes me, especially when she found out your petitions had been sabotaged.”

“You’ve been speaking with the Vizier?”

Jimin crosses his arms. “Well I don’t exactly have the deep pockets some of us have.” He gives the chest a spiteful kick. Taehyung yelps. “But what I do have is a long list of people who owe me favours. And a lot of blackmail material. My way just doesn’t work as fast, I guess.” Jimin glares at Taehyung.

Yoongi looks between them both, then down to the chest. He reaches out a shaking hand and traces the edge of it.

“This is… I don’t know if I can believe it.” Yoongi had been so prepared to do anything when he’d come here. Anything. And while he’d found out that had limits, he’d still accepted that fixing this was his duty, and his alone. He’d never even considered anyone other than Hobi helping. Anyone even wanting to help. And yet here he is – the solution to his problem, to months and months of heartache and struggling, right in front of him for the taking. Surrounded by people that are determined to help him.

Surrounded by family.

Yoongi had never thought of family and imagined something like this. Something deeper than duty and pain. Something that feels open and warm and loving, something where people would see you struggling and try to share the load.

Family, Taehyung had said. Maybe Yoongi doesn’t know what that means, not really, but… he’s beginning to understand.

“Well,” Taehyung says. “You can thank me by letting me dress you for the treaty celebration tonight. I’ve got some ideas for your hair I want to try out. No offence, Hoseok.”

“None taken.”

Yoongi can’t stop staring at the chest. Suddenly he’s being jerked up by Taehyung.

“I’m taking your silence as a yes! Let’s get some breakfast, too. If we stay here a moment longer I’m going to start tearing up and Jungkook can attest that you don’t want that. Once I start, I can’t stop for hours. It’s terrible for my skin.”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi says, placing a hand on Taehyung’s chest to calm his frantic hustle to find Yeontan for a moment. “Thank you.”

Taehyung’s eyes go soft and maybe a little bit shiny.

“You’re part of this family now. This is what we do, okay? We help each other out.” Then he’s pulling away, disappearing into Yoongi’s room and calling for Yeontan.

Yoongi feels a presence at his side and turns to see Jimin there. He can’t help but reach out and grab his hand.

“I was meant to fix this for you,” Jimin says, clearly disgruntled. There’s still a tiny pout hanging around his mouth.

Yoongi leans in and brushes a kiss across the side of his mouth.

“Thank you,” Yoongi says. “You… you have no idea what this means to me.”

Jimin’s hands clutch tight.

“I just want you to b—”

“Are you going to kiss?”

Yoongi jumps apart from Jimin and spins. Taehyung is standing in the doorway to his bedroom, Yeontan around his neck, both of them blinking at him with wide eyes.

His cheeks go red. Jimin laughs.

“Didn’t you say it’s breakfast time,” he mutters, heading to the door.

Taehyung’s laugh follows him out.

Yoongi can’t remember enjoying a court event as much as this one before. He feels weightless, free of all obligation – which isn’t true, but it’s not entirely false either. He no longer has that sick feeling in his gut pushing pushing him to make connections with people, forcing himself to try and act appealing to one of the names on his list. It had been a thing of stress, before.

Now, though. Now he lets himself just enjoy it.

Taehyung had done something very over-the-top with Yoongi’s hair. He’d slicked it right back, fastening tiny jewels all over so he sparkled. The beads showing his ranking can only be seen from behind, where Taehyung had plaited them into several delicate braids. Taehyung had also chosen his toga, matching the sash to the glittering jewels in his hair. Yoongi isn’t used to feeling beautiful, but he does tonight.

But mostly, above anything else… he’s happy. There might still be a plot going on that Jimin and he are scrambling to unwind and his newfound family may be in danger, but he lets himself feel happy tonight without any consequences.

It’s even enough to breath in, purple edging down his throat. It’s not much resin, but enough to create a pattern he’d practised with Jimin down one arm. The edges are sharp, clear. Better than anything he could’ve done before.

“You’re getting good at that.”

Yoongi glances to the side and Namjoon’s there, glittering with gold in the light. There are bags under his eyes – the talks had grown intense enough for Yoongi to rarely see him – but he looks relaxed. Relieved.

“Jimin’s been helping me,” he explains. “I still can’t do much, but I’m getting better.”

“Good.” Namjoon’s eyes crease in a smile, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “I’m glad you resolved whatever was between you. Jimin can be protective and, ah… critical, at times. Which I’m sure you know now.” Yoongi snorts. “But he has a pure heart and I thank the Saints often for allowing our paths to cross. I consider him closer to me than any full-blooded brother I could’ve had. So Yoongi, I mean this in the gentlest way possible… but if you hurt him, I will hunt you down and— well, not hurt you, obviously, but I would be very disappointed and upset, and you—”

“This is the most pitiful threat I’ve ever heard,” Seokjin cuts in, sliding next to Namjoon. Namjoon’s eyes warm when he looks at him and he draws him close with an arm around his waist. “I’m embarrassed to hear it. I’m embarrassed to be married to you.” He scowls at Namjoon, then narrows his eyes at Yoongi. “How is this for a threat? Yoongi, if you hurt my precious Park Jimin, I will take that knife you’re so found of, carve your skin off you in ribbons and dance in your blood. Do you understand?”

“I don’t think that’s physically possib—”

“Would you like to find out?”

Seokjin’s face is eerily blank, his eyes piercing. Yoongi swallows.

“Thank you for that vivid picture,” Namjoon says, looking at Seokjin fondly. “But how about we rescue Hyunah from that lord over there before she does something stupid? She looks like she’s a few seconds away from dumping her wine down his front.”

Both Yoongi and Seokjin turn to find her. Namjoon’s description is very accurate. She’s smiling, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

“Fine,” Seokjin sniffs. “Don’t forget my threat, Yoongi.” And then Yoongi is alone again.

The mood in the enormous hall is a strange one. The courtiers are partying as cheerfully as they always do, but this time the entire Koryese delegation is invited. Most of them are sticking together at the edges of the hall, going nowhere near the dancefloor. Their dull clothing sticks out amongst the rest of the bright colours. Yoongi can see the benefits of the greys and browns from a practical perspective, but he’s leaning more towards all the jewel tones of the Sinjic court. It must be Taehyung’s influence.

He grabs a glass of honey-coloured wine from a servant and wanders further into the hall. He makes small talk with some of the courtiers, but it’s not as trying as it once was. He feels safe, now. Secure. Maybe he’ll even ask Jimin for a dance.

He finishes the wine, the dregs of it almost too sweet, and glances around for a servant. One with an empty tray passes by just next to him and he reaches out to touch his arm.

“Do you mind?” he says, holding out his glass.

The servant bows, taking the glass.

“Would you like another, my lord?”

Yoongi’s eyes, which had been on the dancefloor, trail back to the servant.

“No, thank you, I’m fine.”

“Of course, my lord.” The servant smiles, bows his head and leaves. Yoongi stares after him, even after he disappears into the crowd. Something is nagging at him. There’s a weird feeling in his stomach. Was it the servant? There’d been nothing distinguishing about him. He’d looked like thousands of other people Yoongi had interacted with and not taken note of. Maybe he’d come across him before in the palace. There’s no way Yoongi would be able to remember now. The servant had been almost aggressively normal. Completely undistinctive.

Yoongi freezes.

When he’d smiled, his eyes had remained completely dead.

Yoongi plunges into the crowd after the servant. There are people in the brown servant uniform everywhere. He accidentally shoulder barges a man, mutters an apology. Keeps searching.

It couldn’t have been him, could it?

He needs to find Jimin. Where the fuck is he?

There. Not far ahead, at the edge of the dancefloor. His head is bent close to Namjoon, listening. Yoongi starts pushing through people towards them. He needs to warn them. Whatever the fuck is happening, it’s happening now.

Yoongi’s heart stops.

Behind Namjoon, he sees him. The servant. No tray in sight. His eyes are locked on Namjoon. His hand is clutching something in his pocket.

Yoongi’s too far away.

“Jimin!” he yells. His voice cuts across the pleasant music, the low murmuring. Jimin looks up, eyes questioning. Namjoon frowns a little at him. Yoongi’s not looking at either of them. The servant – the man from the tavern – withdraws something from his pocket. It catches in the light. His muscles bunch up.

Namjoon and Jimin are unaware.

Yoongi doesn’t have time to think. He can only act. His hand comes up. All of his resin shoots out of his palm in a spray of blood. The purple spear thunks into the man’s shoulder, coming out bloody on the other side.

He drops the knife he was holding. It clatters to the ground.

There’s a moment of silence where the entire hall stares at the would-be assassin stumbling back. He looks shocked, staring down at the solid resin sticking out of him. Yoongi is, too. He’d never cast a spear that big before. His palm hurts.

The resin dissipates into gas. The man hits the floor.

Everyone unfreezes. Jimin moves first, pushing Namjoon down. The entire hall erupts into chaos. A woman screams, then cuts off in a gurgle. Voices yell. Yoongi is spun to the side as someone slams into him, rushing past. He grasps for his knives but they’re not there. He pushes forwards towards Jimin. Someone jumps at him with a dagger. He stumbles to the side, the blade just missing him. He tackles the person to the ground. The dragger drops.

It’s a servant. Or at least, he’s dressed like a servant. His face is twisted in a snarl, movements precise as he tries to throw him off. Yoongi punches him in the face, hard enough to stun him. His fingers throb. He tumbles off of him, grabbing his fallen knife and lunging behind a table. Resin smashes into the wall where he’d been, breaking into gas after a heartbeat.

He’s between the wall and a table. Safe. He peeks around the edge of the tablecloth.

The hall is chaos. Complete and utter chaos. There’s blood everywhere. People are fighting – guards, courtiers, all against the brown-garbed servants.

Just like the man Yoongi had killed, though, they’re not servants. He watches a woman fling her hand out, blue resin shooting out and stabbing a lord through the eye. A guard attacks her and she calmly ducks, using the knife in her other hand to slice down his thigh. The guard drops.

They’re professionals. Assassins. All dressed as servants. All trying to kill any of the nobility.

Namjoon. Jimin had been with him. Jimin would protect him. But Yoongi has to get to them, he has to make sure. He hears a noise to his right and spins – a woman in a grey robe is ducking down behind his table. Part of the delegation from Koryöu. He meets her eyes.

She looks calm.

Yoongi doesn’t have time to think about it. He’s out of resin. He tries to breathe in his source like Jimin had taught him, but there’s no way he can even remember what happiness should feel like, let alone the actual emotion. Fuck. Fuck. He can’t waste anymore time.

He grips the knife tight in his hand. It’s slippery – his palm is covered in blood from the resin. Nothing he can do. He crawls from around the table and comes across a fallen tray. Not as good as liquid resin, but it’ll do.

He jumps up, almost bumps into a courtier backpedalling wildly away. He swerves out of the way, spinning back around and slashing at the servant chasing him. She drops.

People are running everywhere. Yoongi can’t see Jimin. He heads to where he’d last seen them.

His world tilts. Someone crashes into his side. He hits the ground hard, wheezing. His hands scramble to finding anything, grasping onto the tray and holding it up—

Jungkook is standing on top of him, snarl on his face as he shoots tiny resin arrows out of the back of his hands. Red flows across his skin as a shield, concentrated on his hands where the solid resin shoots out. A green spear of resin slams into his shoulder, but doesn’t do anything with the liquid resin blocking it. It falls on top of Yoongi then dissipates. He pushes up into a crouch.

“Yoongi,” Jungkook says, voice low. Yoongi can’t believe he ever called him child-like. With the red lighting up his skin, he looks downright lethal. “Have you seen Taehyung?”

A lord runs past them, jumping through the glass windows and into the garden.

“No, I—” Yoongi’s mind frantically thinks back. “I think I saw him next to the musicians.”

Jungkook nods. Yoongi sees the grim determination in his eyes.

“Wait, you need to help me find Namjoon—”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, eyes pained. “I can’t, I need to find Tae.” And then he’s gone, running into the crowd towards where the quartet had been set up.

“Fuck,” Yoongi spits. He’s alone again. A caster who can’t cast.

Colour flashes in his vision. He jerks the tray up but not in time. Solid resin slashes across his hip. Yoongi moves, throwing himself behind a pillar. He glances down. No resin is sticking out. It’s just a graze. Blood is already trickling out, but it’s not serious.

“You fucking asshole!”

Seokjin’s voice. Yoongi follows it. Seokjin is using a tray like a bat, slamming it into someone’s head then kicking his body aside. His face is twisted. His arms are covered in blood. Yoongi starts towards him then sees two guards converge on him. He’s fine. He’s protected. Yoongi has to find Jimin and Namjoon.

He searches around again. There – a piece of golden fabric wrapped around the neck of a dead servant. The exact same as the sash Jimin had been wearing. The servant is lying across the stairs to outside. Yoongi only takes a precautionary look around before taking off at a run. His sandals almost slip across the blood. He has to jump over bodies. He tries not to think about it.

He’s down one step when someone comes at him from the side with a sword. Yoongi bats it away with his tray, but he doesn’t have a very good grip on it. It goes flying. The man brings the sword back around, stabbing at his chest. Yoongi jumps back. It catches the edge of his toga instead of skin. He rips off the pin keeping his toga together and spins, using the momentum to catch the sword up in one of the long pieces of fabric. He grabs onto the sword, hands protected through the thick fabric of the toga, and yanks it towards him. The man stumbles forward.

“Wha—”

Yoongi’s head slams into his nose. Pain radiates out from his forehead, but there’s no time to pause. He draws his fist back and slams it into the man’s chest. He stumbles back, loses his footing and falls down the stairs. He doesn’t move.

Yoongi untangles the sword from the fabric, gripping it in one hand and the knife in the other. He’s now only in a simple undertunic. No protection at all.

The garden is much quieter. Eerily so. The sounds of fighting from the hall drift out, but the darkness seems to mute it. There’s a few lamps hanging up, but it’s not enough to light the area fully. Was he wrong? Maybe Jimin had taken Namjoon a different way. Maybe they were already dead—

No, he can’t think like that.

He catches a flash of movement – the entrance to the maze. There’s a fight going on. Yoongi runs towards it.

It’s Jimin. He’s fighting off three assassins with nothing but his own resin. Namjoon isn’t in sight. Only one of these assassins is in the servants’ garb – the other two are dressed in dark colours. More of them?

Jimin’s movements are frantic, not as dance-like as usual. Three against one, he’s unable to add in the extra movements that transform his fighting into dance. Which means his resin would be running out.

He’s burning through it as if he’s not. While Yoongi watches, he catches one blade against his forearm, sliding it down towards his shoulder and ducking beneath another attack. He kicks out and an arrow of resin shoots from his foot, landing in the arm of one of them.

Jimin flings his hand out and a blade of resin appears. He catches one swipe, delivers a long scratch to an arm, ducks under another, then the resin puffs into gas and he’s making another. It’s fast, frantic.

Yoongi arrives unseen to any of them. He drops the knife, clutching the sword grip with both hands, and plunges it through the back of one of the servants. His weight shifts onto his back foot, other foot coming up to kick the man off the sword.

Or that’s how he’d meant it to go. The sword must be wedged tightly into bone, because it doesn’t budge. He ends up loosing his grip on the sword as the assassin pitches into the one next to him and goes down.

Yoongi is left standing there with nothing.

He looks for the knife frantically, left and right. Sees it. Makes a grab for it.

Jimin screams out, “Yoongi!”

Something heavy whistles through the air. Yoongi glances up to see two chunks of resin slam into the assassin that’d been about to kill him. He sees it like it’s frozen in time – the woman’s teeth gritted, sword raised up, hair flying out behind her. Just starting the downswing that’d end in Yoongi’s head rolling on the ground.

One chunk of yellow resin slams into her sword hand, the other into her head. She stumbles to the side. A spear, this time sharp, pierces through her stomach and pins her to the ground. Yoongi has the knife in hand and is on his feet by the time the resin dissipates.

He looks up in time to see the final assassin spinning, foot lashing out at Jimin’s knee. His unprotected knee. He hears the crunch. He sees it snap back, going the opposite way a knee should. Jimin screams, brutal and hoarse. His leg buckles completely and he topples to the side.

The assassin finishes his spin, blade raising up in the air to finish it. Yoongi makes a wordless sound, throwing himself forward. His shoulder slams into the assassin and they both fall to the ground. Yoongi slashes blindly. He hears a grunt – he must’ve hit something. He rolls to his side, pushing up, but his hair’s in his face. He can’t see anything. His instincts scream at him to move. He rolls to the side, jerking his head to clear his eyes. The knife stays tight in one hand.

But then his hands are screaming in pain. The knife is gone – somehow the assassin is already on his feet. He’d kicked it out of his hands. Yoongi scrambles backwards on his elbows but the man’s foot slams down into his ribs. He convulses, air leaving his lips in a puff. He frantically tries to draw in more air. He can’t move. He can’t even breathe. He’s powerless.

The man stands above him, eyes flat and uncaring. He shifts his grip on the sword so it’s pointed right down at Yoongi’s chest.

Yoongi sees his death in this man’s cold gaze.

But then Yoongi blinks and the man is toppling over. He lands with a thud next to him. A long needle of yellow resin sticks out from his skull. Yoongi wheezes, drawing in a tiny bit of breath. Enough to push himself up. He sees Jimin on his side, hand outstretched. It’s trembling.

“Y-y-y-you—” Yoongi can’t get any words out. He pulls himself up, stumbling over and falling to his knees at Jimin’s side. He can’t look at his knee. He keeps his eyes on Jimin’s face – tear-stained, pale, crumpled in pain but alive.

His own chest screams in pain but he manages to draw in a full breath. And then another.

“You fucking idiot,” he finally says. He throws his arms around Jimin’s shoulders, hugging him tight. “You idiot! You almost died!”

“So did you,” Jimin mumbles, voice muffled against Yoongi’s undertunic. He draws back. “But I saved you.”

Yoongi stares at him in disbelief. Jimin’s covered in blood, shaking from pain, but he’s still being a brat.

“I saved you,” Yoongi corrects. “Twice, actually!”

“Once,” Jimin says. “Maybe. The first time you saved Namjoon.”

Yoongi frowns suddenly, looking around. The garden is empty. The sounds from the hall have stopped. Yoongi doesn’t know if that’s a good sign.

“Where is he? Namjoon?”

“There’s a passage hidden in the maze,” Jimin says. “I stayed to give him time to open it.”

“A secret passage?”

“Yeah, leading to a hidden wharf at the base of the cliffs. Or to a safe room beneath the palace. Turns out it wasn’t just paranoia.”

“Thank the Saints,” Yoongi sighs. He can’t stop touching Jimin, carding his hands through his hair and getting even more blood all over him. Jimin doesn’t seem to care. “Can you lead me to it? I’ll carry you.”

Jimin’s eyes sharpen on something behind Yoongi. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” he says with a sigh.

Frowning, he looks behind him. Blinks. Namjoon is walking briskly down the stairs, striding towards them. His skin glitters with his golden resin. Guards fan out behind him, several staying close to him while others scout the rest of the garden.

“You were meant to go to the safe room,” Jimin says, scowling, when Namjoon gets close enough.

“I did,” Namjoon says. “And then I immediately left. What happened?” He frowns, kneeling down next to Yoongi. “Saints, Jimin, your knee—”

“I don’t care about that,” Jimin snaps. “Tell me what’s happening inside. Where’s Seokjin? Taehyung?”

“They’re fine. Safe.” Jimin relaxes immediately, sinking into Yoongi. “It’s under control inside.” Namjoon glances back over his shoulder at one of the guards. It’s the captain who’d interrogated Yoongi all that time ago. Sunmi. Her hair for once is messy. Blood trickles from a shallow scalp wound down her neck, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it. “Captain, bring a healer out here.”

She nods and runs back into the hall.

Namjoon turns and fixes Yoongi with a piercing look.

“You were the only one who noticed the first attack,” he says. “Explain.”

The Namjoon he’s dealing with now isn’t the same as his childhood friend. This is the man who will be the GoldSpark some day. Yoongi’s eyes dart to Jimin then back.

“I recognised him,” he says. “From… from the tavern. My father asked me to pass a message on to him, something treasonous. Jimin and I went through with it to try and find out what it was.”

Namjoon fixes Jimin with a narrow-eyed look.

“Treason. And yet this is the first time I’m hearing of it.”

Jimin struggles to push himself up, then goes even more pale when he jolts his knee. Yoongi can feel him trembling.

“I told you I was investigating something,” Jimin says with a scowl. “I just didn’t tell you who with.”

“This seems like something you’d want to pass on.”

“We had no idea what it could be. Until tonight,” Yoongi explains. “Plus, I… I didn’t think you’d believe I had nothing to do with it. Or if you did, those around you wouldn’t.”

Finally, Namjoon’s eyes soften. He gazes at Yoongi, lips pursed.

“I’ve never treated your father’s crimes as yours,” he says. Yoongi ducks his head a little at the reproach in his tone. “But I can understand why you thought that.” He sighs. “I’m just glad you gave us the warning you did, short as it was. It could’ve gone a lot worse. Thank you.”

Sunmi approaches, a man in long blue robes at her heels. He clicks his tongue when he sees Jimin’s knee, then kneels down beside him to start examining it.

Jimin’s hand reaches out to him and Yoongi’s attention is snapped back to him.

“Go and find Taehyung, make sure he’s safe,” Jimin says.

Yoongi frowns. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Please.” Jimin’s voice is low. Pain edges every word he makes, but he’s trying to hide it. “I need to know.”

Finally, Yoongi nods. He leans forward and presses his lips to one of the few unbloodied spots on his forehead.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispers.

He walks back to the hall with Namjoon at his side.

Yoongi doesn’t get to see Jimin for hours after that. He finds Taehyung alive and well, Jungkook hovering next to him. He has a few scratches on him, but nothing too deep.

“I ran out of resin fast,” Taehyung explains as they work side-by-side. They’re in what had been a lounge filled with sculptures, but that’s all been pushed aside to make room for the wounded. There’s too many to fit inside the hospital and this had been the closest room. Taehyung and he are helping out with the minor wounds, cleaning and dressing like they’d been told. “My source is an emotion-based one, you know, so it’s hard to draw on in a situation like that.”

Yoongi pauses where he’d been wrapping a man’s arm. “Oh,” he says, blinking. It takes a moment for him to work up the courage, but he eventually says, “M-Mine too.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung catches his eye, smiling at him. He seems pleased Yoongi shared that. “Pretty frustrating. Jungkook always likes me to breath a lot in before events like that and I always thought he was being paranoid. Turns out he was right. It kept me and others alive until he could get there.”

Yoongi looks around. “Where is he now?” It’s strange not to see him hovering two steps behind Taehyung like normal.

Taehyung’s eyebrows flit down for just a moment before smoothing out.

“I don’t know,” he says softly. He stares down at the wound he’s cleaning. “He… he was distant. And then he gave me some lame excuse and left.”

Yoongi clears his throat. He’s not really good at being an empathetic, caring person, but he has to try. He also understands why Taehyung wants to be as close as possible to Jungkook after what just happened. He’s feeling the same about Jimin. But he knows there’s not much he can do right now and there are others that need his attention more. It still feels like he’s being split in half.

“Maybe all the guards were called in from their usual roles?” he offers. “To lock down the palace properly.”

Taehyung shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.”

Yoongi wracks his mind for something else to say, but he’s distracted by the person he’s working on straightening up and ducking his head. Yoongi glances behind him. Namjoon stands in the doorway, eyes on Yoongi. He jerks his head and turns. Yoongi follows. He doesn’t realise Taehyung is following until Namjoon gives him a considering look, but doesn’t say anything.

They end up in a private room in the hospital. Jimin is sitting propped up in bed, a brace around his leg. He’s been cleaned of blood but he looks even more pale than before.

Yoongi slides around Namjoon, rushing to his side.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, hands hovering, unsure what to do.

“Fine,” Jimin says with a smile. He reaches out and grabs Yoongi’s hand, interlocking their fingers. “I’ll be back to scaling balconies in no time.”

Yoongi makes a strangled sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob. He ducks his head down into Jimin’s neck, breathing in the sharp hospital scent.

“I’m really okay,” Jimin says softly into his ear. His other hand comes up to push back Yoongi’s hair.

“Your knee…”

“I’m alive,” Jimin says, voice suddenly firm. “And you’re alive. Everyone I care about is alive. My knee is nothing compared to that, okay?”

Yoongi draws back a little to search Jimin’s eyes. He’s not sure if Jimin really believes that or if he’s just trying to convince himself. There’s not much he can do now, anyway, with Namjoon’s eyes burning into his back.

He nods and says, “Okay,” and squeezes his hand tight. Tries to convey everything he feels into that squeeze.

Jimin smiles back at him.

“This has a nicer view than my room,” Seokjin announces, sailing into the room.

Namjoon rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“No it doesn’t,” Taehyung says. “And it’s dark. You can’t even see anything!”

Seokjin sniffs, pulling up a chair next to Jimin’s bed. “Maybe I’ll just move in here with you, Jimin.”

“If you do that I’ll break my other knee.”

Seokjin squawks, slapping Jimin across the shoulder. “What a terrible joke to make! Terrible! You’re heartless.”

Sunmi comes into the room along with several older, very official looking people. The mood sombers quickly.

“Okay,” Namjoon says, hands clasped behind his back, “I need you both to tell me everything that happened. In detail.”

Yoongi’s eyes dart around the room.

“Should the GoldSpark be here for this?” Jimin asks. He may be lying down in bed, but his voice is strong. Firm. All the tenderness from earlier is gone.

“They’re in a secure location,” Sunmi says. “We’ll report to them after this.”

Jimin nods, then looks to Yoongi. He squeezes his hand. Yoongi takes a deep breath and starts from the beginning.

The others interrupt often. Or at least, Namjoon, Sunmi and the other three. Seokjin and Taehyung stay silent.

They make him repeat the tavern meeting again and again, making sure he remembers everything. Sunmi and Namjoon often share knowing looks. Yoongi doesn’t know why.

He feels wrung out by the end of it. Jimin had interjected where he could, saying what he’d investigated, but Yoongi had done most of the talking. Once they’re satisfied, Namjoon turns to the others.

“Sunmi, keep the delegation on lockdown. Hajun, call for a war council for the morning. We’ll need to craft a response to the Koryese. Seoyun, alert the Watchpatrol to round up every member of Artifice possible. I want a state of emergency announced. Lock the city down until we can control the narrative. Yes?”

They all nod their assent and leave. Namjoon’s at the door when Jimin calls him back.

“The Koryese?” Jimin asks. “Really?”

Namjoon nods. Yoongi glances between the two of them.

“Wait, what? Are you saying you think the Koryese were behind it?”

Namjoon nods again. “It fits. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d been talking to your father for years. There’s a lot of bad blood between our two countries but I really did think they were genuine.” Namjoon’s leader facade flickers for a bit as guilt runs across his face. Seokjin moves to stand next to him without a word. Namjoon leans a little on him and his face composes again. “They have pockets deep enough to buy off an entire syndicate and Family. Sorry, Yoongi. They were already under suspicion since not one of them was harmed during the coup. We also caught the Ambassador Prime trying to escape.” He sighs. “It’s going to be a long few weeks. But Jimin, you need to get as much rest as possible. We should all leave him alone.” Namjoon gives Taehyung a very pointed look.

They all file out, but Jimin’s hand tightens on Yoongi’s.

“You should stay. C’mon, this bed can fit both of us.”

Yoongi blinks at him. “Your leg. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” Jimin says, rolling his eyes. “I’m on so many pain suppressants I can’t feel a thing.” He wiggles to the side, dragging his leg so there’s more space for Yoongi. Despite his words, his face pales even further and his lips go white. He still stares at Yoongi stubbornly, though, daring him to say something.

Yoongi sighs and climbs up, making sure to squish himself right along the edge of the bed. Jimin tugs him closer and he goes unwillingly, still keeping a good distance between them.

Jimin sighs in exasperation. “I don’t need you to baby me; I have enough healers doing that. I want you to kiss me.”

Yoongi’s breath puffs out a little. “...kiss?”

“Yes, obviously. Hurry up. I have a fucked up knee, I can’t reach across. Stop being cruel.”

Yoongi splutters for a moment, but concedes defeat. He wiggles a little closer and presses a kiss into Jimin’s lips. Jimin immediately deepens it, making Yoongi’s bones turn to liquid.

“You’re so stubborn,” Yoongi breathes against his lips when they part for a moment.

Jimin draws him back in for a moment, then parts to say, “As if you don’t like it,” with a wicked smile. Yoongi kisses it away.

A few minutes later, Yoongi breaks away to look down at Jimin.

“I was really scared,” he admits. His voice is barely above a whisper, even though there’s no one else in the room. The shame curdles in his gut. “I couldn’t even cast.”

“You saved Namjoon’s life,” Jimin says. “You saved mine, too.”

“Twice.”

“Maybe twice,” Jimin says with an eye roll. Then he sobers. “You did well. Incredibly well. You’ve only been truly learning for a few weeks. To be able to cast with a source like yours in a fight… it takes a long time. A really long time. Don’t beat yourself up.”

Jimin’s fingers brush over Yoongi’s face, hooking his hair behind his ear. Yoongi stares into Jimin’s eyes and feels… unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He feels like he can ask him anything. Tell him anything. Bare his soul.

Above all, he feels safe. Even those dark, jagged parts of himself don’t feel so sharp.

He lets out a breath. “Your knee, though,” he says. “If I’d been able to cast properly—”

“Don’t you dare,” Jimin snaps. His fists grab onto Yoongi’s shirt, tugging him closer. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You had nothing to do with it. Don’t be egotistical. The only one I blame is the Koryese-loving asshole who did this to me.”

“But if I’d kept even a little bit of resin, or anything…”

Jimin’s hands soften a little. “Don’t think like that,” he says. “It’s torture. When something like this happens, you can’t be thinking in ‘what if’s. Only facts. The facts are: you figured out their plan in time. You saved so many of us. You fought for your people instead of hiding under a table. Those are the facts you should be concerned with. People died and many more got injured, but none of it is your fault. You’re alive. And I’m alive. We’ll make this work.”

Yoongi searches Jimin’s eyes for anything, any sign that he’s misleading him, but all he sees there is genuine emotion. His heart thuds painfully in his chest.

“Jimin,” he sighs, tucking his head in so he’s resting against Jimin’s chest. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Jimin drops a kiss on the top of Yoongi’s head. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

Tomorrow, the day after, the week after that and the rest of Yoongi’s future stretches in front of him, formless and unknowable. But with Jimin here – feeling right down to his soul that Jimin is with him – it’s not as terrifying anymore.

He closes his eyes and tries to get some rest.

The next day, Yoongi sticks to Jimin’s side for as long as he can before he gets shooed out to help with the other victims. He works alone for a bit before Taehyung joins him. Shadowing him is a guard Yoongi doesn’t recognise. Definitely not Jungkook.

Yoongi glances at him then back to Taehyung, tilting his head in silent question. Taehyung grimaces, shrugging. The lines around his eyes look deep, pained. For once, he’s not filling the silence between them with chatter. Yoongi tries a little bit, but he’s terrible at small talk at the best of times. And right now his mind is stuck on Jimin. His shattered knee. What it all means.

He’s kneeling down feeding broth to a woman whose lungs rattle every time she breathes, red-coloured spit gathered at the corners of her lips, when the guard captain finds him.

“Highlord,” Sunmi says, “the GoldSpark has requested your presence.”

Yoongi stills. Even his breathing. He searches Sunmi’s face, but she’s completely blank. He can’t think of why he’s been summoned, but he can’t exactly question it.

Taehyung doesn’t share the sentiment.

“Why?” he asks, coming forward with a small frown.

Sunmi’s eyes linger on him a moment before flicking away dismissively. “That’s their business and theirs alone.”

“Well I’m coming with you.” Taehyung directs this at Yoongi and he feels a rush of sudden warmth.

“No,” Sunmi cuts in. “You’ve caused enough havoc already. The highlord and the highlord alone will be coming with me. Understood?”

Taehyung’s lips purse tightly. “No. What havoc have I caused? Is this about wherever you’ve deployed Jungkook is?”

“Jeon Jungkook is no longer with the guard.”

Yoongi’s eyes go wide. Taehyung’s face pales.

“What do you mean?” he asks in a small voice. It grows stronger with every word. “Where is he, then? What did you do with him?”

“Now that’s his business, not mine. I don’t keep track of every retired member of the guard. And I’m certainly not a go-between for either of you. Highlord, if you’d care to accompany me?”

Yoongi darts another look at Taehyung, who’s mouthing ‘retired’ to himself. As much as he wants to comfort Taehyung in some way and find out what’s going on, he can’t ignore a summons from the GoldSpark.

Yoong nods and follows Sunmi, giving Taehyung’s shoulder a brief squeeze on the way past. Sunmi strides through the hallways as if she owns them, movements precise and fast. Yoongi struggles a little to keep up. Everyone just melts out of her way. Yoongi makes note of it to see if he can try to emulate it.

They arrive at an office. Sunmi’s back blocks his view as she steps in first, bowing low and introducing Yoongi.

“Thank you, captain,” the GoldSpark says. Sunmi bows again and leaves just as fast as she came.

The office has huge windows out over the city, but the GoldSpark’s back is to the view. Yoongi has only ever seen them at events where they’re in full regalia. It’s strange seeing them now, dressed in the simplest toga of pure white with no extra paint. They’re still carrying their resin beneath their skin, glittering gold.

They even have a pair of glasses perched on their nose.

Namjoon sits to their side, bent in close to peer at a map on the desk. There are others in the room talking lowly amongst themselves; some that Yoongi recognises from the day before. The Vizier is also there. She gives him a nod.

He feels very out of his league.

He bows to the GoldSpark, not rising until they click their tongue and say, “No need for formality here. Come forward, child. Take a seat.”

It’s weird to be referred to as a child. Yoongi keeps his face blank. He can’t exactly say that to the most powerful person in Sinju.

He carefully sits across from the GoldSpark, darting a glance at Namjoon. Namjoon doesn’t look very worried. He just gives him a faint smile before turning his attention back to what’s on the table.

Which is a good thing, right? Namjoon is his friend. He’d probably look a bit more upset if Yoongi was about to be thrown in the Abyss. Right? Yoongi hopes so.

Yoongi vibrates in his chair, unsure what he’s meant to do. The GoldSpark’s attention is still on the scroll in front of them, eyes scanning across the lines. Then they look up, taking off their glasses. It’s intense to have the full force of their gaze directed solely on him. He has to remind himself to breath. And also how to breath.

“I believe I have you to thank for saving my son’s life.”

Yoongi blinks. Not what he’d expected. “Oh, u-uh… I didn’t do much. I realised the plan too late. And Jimin did a much better job afterwards of that.”

The GoldSpark smiles. “Are you saying I’m wrong?”

Yoongi halts. Fuck. “N-no, of course not—”

They let out a low chuckle, waving their hand. “I’m only teasing.” Namjoon next to them has his lips pressed together, mirth in his eyes. “I apologise, I can’t help myself sometimes. But highlord, you need to work on your arrogance, you don’t seem to have enough of it to survive here.”

Yoongi doesn’t know what’s going on or how he should be reacting. He stutters out another, “O-oh, uh, I—”

“You’re not meant to be teasing him,” Namjoon says, exasperated. “Don’t be mean, mother.”

“I can’t help myself.” They lean forward, hands folded beneath their chin. “Highlord, you make it too easy.”

“Uh—”

“But my purpose wasn’t to make you uncomfortable, as fun as it’s turning out to be,” they say. “I called you here to thank you. You saved my son’s life and I am in your debt. I’d like to grant you a boon. Name anything within my power and I will give it to you.”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open. He can’t control his reaction. He’s shocked. His mind is racing. He glances at Namjoon to check he heard it too, but Namjoon is just gazing back at him steadily. He looks back at the GoldSpark. Both of them observe him expectantly.

Anything? Anything?

What he’d give to be in this position just a few short weeks ago. They’d come to the capital with not much more than the clothes on their backs. He’d had very low expectations. But now… perhaps it’s too much to say, but he feels like he’s found a family here. He found Jimin. His people won’t spend the winter in famine. Everything he could’ve wanted and more.

He doesn’t need anything.

But as soon as he thinks this, he pauses. Glances at Namjoon. Perhaps it’s not his place. But he wants to give Jimin the choice, at least.

“The only thing I want is for Park Jimin to be released from his duty to your family. If he wishes, that is.”

The GoldSpark’s eyebrows flicker up for a moment. Yoongi feels victorious knowing he made them surprised. Namjoon smiles to himself as if he’d known exactly how this would play out. Perhaps he had.

The GoldSpark searches his face for a moment, head tilting, before glancing at their son with a smile. “I see why you like him.”

Yoongi flushes, but Namjoon just grins.

They turn back to Yoongi.

“Park Jimin has done a lot for this family,” they say. “More than you could know. I wish you’d asked for gold or land or power. That would be easier to give.”

Yoongi firms his jaw and thinks of Jimin lying pale in the hospital bed. “You said anything within your power to grant,” he says. His whole body is tense. It’s a gamble. The GoldSpark might grant it, or they might call the guard on him. But he has to try.

It feels like their eyes are peeling back his skin, seeing everything beneath.

“What about your father? I could release him, you know. Or give him the death penalty, depending on your mood.”

Yoongi breathes in through his nose and doesn’t think of the last time he’d seen his father. He can’t. It hadn’t occurred to him to ask – does that make him a worse person than he already is?

Does he care?

He’s Yoongi’s father. He loves him. Or, he did at one time in his life. Now his emotions towards him are like wading through a swamp. It’s too murky to understand and honestly? Yoongi doesn’t feel ready to try. Not yet.

“I stand by my request,” he says.

The GoldSpark smiles and leans back in their chair. “Fine. I’ll present the option to Jimin and won’t try to sway him either way. But keep in mind, you asked for a choice. He may chose to stay in my employ.”

“That’s his choice, your holiness,” Yoongi says. “Not mine. I wouldn’t force that on him.”

They gaze at him a little longer. Their eyes are impenetrable. Yoongi has no idea what’s behind that vague, small smile. He feels like they’re taking him apart in his mind, evaluating him down to his bones.

It’s eerie.

“Good,” they eventually say. Yoongi tries not to reveal the way his body goes lax, tension releasing. “I’ll speak to him shortly.” Their nails drum against the table and Yoongi gets the feeling he’s not quite free yet. “Now as for you, Min Yoongi. I felt the first touch of winter in the air this morning. It’s so mild here but I’ve spent a winter in the mountains. I know how much colder it is up there. Will you be returning?”

And Yoongi – blinks. He hadn’t even realised what time of the year it was. Or he did, but he’d had so many other things on his mind. But… that’s all done now. He found out what his father was plotting. He has a way to support his people.

There’s no real reason for him to linger in the capital any longer.

Except for Jimin.

The GoldSpark expects an answer, though. He doesn’t have time to unpack anything here. So he smiles thinly and says, “That is the plan, yes. It’ll be much harder to travel back when winter hits.”

“Interesting,” they muse and Yoongi can’t read anything in their tone or body language. “That’s all, then. Please go back to whatever it was you were doing.”

They wave a hand at him then go straight back to reading the scroll, placing their glasses back on.

It’s all so abrupt. Yoongi sits there for a moment, shocked, but the GoldSpark is ignoring him completely. He looks at Namjoon with wide eyes, feeling adrift.

“Let me walk you back,” Namjoon says.

Yoongi’s feet follow Namjoon out of the room. His head is a mess.

“Sorry,” Namjoon says as soon as they’re out of the office. “They tend to do that. I think they just like making people a little uncomfortable. Gives them the upper hand, not that they ever even need it.”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi says, not really focusing on what he’s saying. “They’re just… abrupt.”

Namjoon huffs a little, amused. “That’s a delicate way of putting it, but sure. Abrupt.”

Yoongi hums then falls silent. He can feel Namjoon glancing at him, but his mind is spinning. He needs to stay in the capital for Jimin. He needs to leave the capital for his people. Jimin might chose to be released from duty, but he could go anywhere. Did Yoongi really think he’d follow him? What they have is so tenuous. And it’s only been a few days.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon says and Yoongi realises it’s not the first time Namjoon’s said his name.

He blinks, stumbling out, “Sorry, what? Sorry.”

Namjoon smiles kindly. “I asked when you were planning on heading back to the highlands.”

Yoongi breathes out slowly, shakily. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” he confesses. “But… when this all dies down, I guess.”

“I’ll be sad to see you go,” Namjoon says. “But I’ve always wanted to see the snow in the mountains. I can’t even imagine what it looks like.”

Yoongi startles a little, turning to look at Namjoon more fully. “You’ll visit? But your duties here… And the Koryese…?”

“Of course. It’ll be like a royal tour. The highlands are still my country, you know. And Jin would never say so, but I think he’ll miss you too.”

“Oh.” Yoongi isn’t sure how to take that information. It still feels like Seokjin doesn’t like him, but maybe that’s just how he is. Actually, when Yoongi’s seen him fawn over the lords and ladies of the court, it’s a bit terrifying. And definitely doesn’t mean he actually likes them.

Huh.

“I would love if you visited,” Yoongi says, voice soft. “All of you.”

“Don’t say that too loudly or you’ll never get Taehyung to leave.” Namjoon says this just as they’re entering the makeshift hospital wing and Taehyung startles upright.

“What are you talking about? Me? What?”

“Secret royal business only,” Namjoon says with a smile. He bows his head a little to Yoongi then starts making his way slowly around the room, speaking in a low voice to the injured. Yoongi watches the way each of them perks up when they see him, how Namjoon leaves them with colour in the cheeks and more life in their eyes. He’s a good leader. A great one, even. Yoongi won’t ever live and breathe command like Namjoon seems to, but he wants to try.

“So?” Taehyung says. “What was it? What happened?”

Yoongi looks back at Taehyung, who is leaning into his space with wide eyes. Yoongi pushes him back a little.

“Secret royal business,” Yoongi says. Taehyung scowls, making Yoongi laugh and say, “Not really, but… I’ll tell you later, okay?”

Taehyung looks unhappy, but nods anyway. Yoongi can’t share it now. His head is in too much of a mess. He needs time to sit back and think on it. So as his hands work, bandaging and feeding and helping, his mind spins.

Yoongi knows he needs to leave. Time is running out. He spends his free moments in Jimin’s room. He’s moved back to his own rooms and has a specially-crafted crutch. He’s confined mostly to bed, but doesn’t need help anymore when he needs to relieve himself. He’s also very obviously slowly going insane from the forced bedrest.

They all do their best to help – Taehyung sets up his own workstation in Jimin’s room and keeps up a constant stream of chatter. Seokjin organises dramatic lunches of at least eight courses. He’s tried to bring in a few performers to Jimin’s room but Jimin had yelled until they’d all left. Namjoon drops by every so often.

Yoongi, though… he’s started spending more time in Jimin’s rooms than his own. When the sun goes down, he finds himself curled up next to Jimin. Jimin likes to card his fingers through Yoongi’s hair until Jimin falls asleep. The medicine he’s taking makes him sleepy. But Yoongi, who’s never been good at sleeping, spends long hours just staring at Jimin and counting down the time.

Slowly, slowly, the palace attempts to go back to normal. There are funerals. Families in mourning. Yoongi attends each of them and watches the coffin get lowered into the ground, draped in silks with the scent of incense burning his nose. The daily parties stop and the mood of the court is sombre. Courtiers go back to their estates. Seokjin hosts some events, but there’s always darkness hanging over them. Rumours of the war starting again run rife. The Koryese delegation are being kept in the Abyss as political prisoners, but Yoongi hasn’t heard much more than that.

A spark of brightness comes in the form of Taehyung, as it often does. Or, more accurately, Jungkook.

They’re all on the balcony of Jimin’s room – Jimin set up on one of the lounges they’d dragged out, Yoongi nestled at his side. Taehyung is talking both with his mouth and hands, not noticing the paint flying everywhere from the brush.

And then Jungkook steps out onto the balcony.

Everything seems to freeze. Yoongi’s eyes dart to Taehyung, who’s frozen mid-gesture. Jimin goes tense next to him. The last they’d heard from Jungkook was that he’d retired, and that was from Sunmi. The absence had been wearing on Taehyung, not that he’d let it show much. But Yoongi could tell – it was in his too-long pauses, the sadness in his eyes when he thought no one was looking. His paintings, too – more storms than the sunny landscapes he’d normally paint.

“Kook,” Taehyung breathes, arms lowering to his sides.

Jungkook’s jaw is set, fists clenched. It’s weird seeing him out of his guard uniform. Instead, he’s in a sturdy tunic belted at the waist. Something you’d see more in the city than the palace.

“Where have you been,” Taehyung cries, throwing himself forwards. Jungkook catches him, bringing him in tight. His face crumples a little.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi hears him whisper, muffled by Taehyung’s loose hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t say a thing!” Taehyung’s fists beat against Jungkook’s back, but neither lets go. “How could you do that to me!”

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook draws back, framing Taehyung’s face in his hands. His thumbs wipe away the tears trailing down Taehyung’s face. Yoongi curls up a bit tighter, not sure if he should be seeing this. But Jimin only has one functional leg – they can’t really subtly leave. “There were things I had to do. I had to… I had to think. About this. About us.”

“Is this you breaking up with me?”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook says, voice soft and smile sad. “We weren’t ever together.”

“Yes, we were,” Taehyung sniffles.

“No we— okay, semantics. This isn’t how I wanted it to go.”

“How did you— Jungkook.”

Jungkook draws away, clasping both of Taehyung’s hands in his own. “I want you to let me speak and not interrupt until the end, okay?”

Taehyung narrows his eyes suspiciously, but nods his head in a jerk.

“I retired from the guard which, um, I think you know?”

“Sunmi told me—”

“You’re not meant to speak—”

“You asked me a question!”

Yoongi feels laughter bubbling up his throat and he turns into Jimin, muffling it into his shoulder. He can feel Jimin shaking.

“I retired,” Jungkook says, more firmly. “Because on th-that night, my priority was you. Above anyone else, despite my pledges, it was you.” Taehyung looks like he wants to say something, but Jungkook’s hands tighten around his. “I can’t be a guard when I’d sacrifice anything – anyone – for you.” Taehyung’s eyebrows twitch in pain and he opens his mouth, but Jungkook keeps talking. “So I retired. I’m… I’m not upset, it’s for the best, but I had to do some planning and also… travel to Fogwing to see your family.”

Jimin grabs onto Yoongi’s hand, almost vibrating with excitement.

“What do you mean.” Taehyung’s voice is a whisper.

“Well, I also had to see my family and I bought a store in the southside of the city that I think can easily be converted into—”

“Jungkook.”

“I asked your family’s permission to marry you,” Jungkook blurts. “And, you know, obviously your mother said no. But your father said you’d do whatever you wanted anyway so I tried to be traditional but it really just depends on what you—”

“Yes!” Taehyung screeches, flinging himself on Jungkook, legs wrapping around his hips. Jungkook stumbles back, banging into the wall. “Yes yes yesyesyes!”

“Really? Are you su—”

“Yes!” Taehyung yells again, voice piercing and ugly and so, so happy. He’s hugging Jungkook, he’s wiggling, he’s crying a little bit.

Jimin finally breaks out into loud laughter next to him, curling into Yoongi.

“Kook, you dork,” he says, voice warm.

“That was a mess,” Yoongi says, awe in his voice. Taehyung is peppering kisses all over Jungkook’s face now, still murmuring yesyesyesyes.

“We have to tell Jin! And Joon! And Yoongi— oh, he’s still here. Good! And we also have to tell—”

Jungkook cuts him off, sealing their lips together properly.

“Get a room!” Jimin hollers, making them break apart. Jungkook’s face is bright red. Taehyung twists to look over his shoulder, scowling.

“Maybe we will. You’re not using your bedroom now, are you?” His voice is saccharine sweet.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What’re you gonna do, shake your crutch at me?”

“Just because you just got engaged doesn’t mean I won’t throw you off this balcony—”

But Taehyung’s interest has snapped back to Jungkook and he goes back to dropping kisses all over Jungkook’s blushing face.

Everyone finds out about the engagement quickly enough and Seokjin throws a huge party to celebrate. Yoongi spends the night laughing more than he can remember, happiness lighting him up from the inside. It’s a blur of being pulled onto the dancefloor – which is really just the furniture pushed to the side of Seokjin and Namjoon’s suite – and being forced to dance, flowing wine, and Jimin. Taehyung doesn’t leave Jungkook’s side, hands staying firmly attached the whole time except when Hobi cuts in and drags Taehyung into the centre of the room to spin him around.

It goes for hours and hours and it’s one of the happiest times Yoongi can remember.

When it winds down, he helps Jimin back to his room. He’s sobered up a little, at least, so he’s not weaving all over the place anymore. He’d accidentally bumped into a lounge at one point and flipped right onto it, and Jimin can’t stop giggling about it.

“—and your legs were just straight up in the air,” he giggles and Yoongi huffs in annoyance.

“It wasn’t that funny,” he grumbles, helping Jimin settle onto the bed.

“—and they’re so thin and stick-like, it was like two twigs—”

“Next time I’ll leave you to crawl back to your room alone.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jimin says with utmost confidence. Yoongi huffs again, because he’s very correct. Jimin has him wrapped around his little finger. So when Jimin’s hand grips onto his wrist when he goes to leave, Yoongi doesn’t fight it much. He even lets himself be tugged on top of Jimin, carefully not resting much weight on him as they kiss. They’ve done this a lot – let their mouths explore, sinking into the other.

But this time Jimin’s hand strokes down his back, coming around to the front to grip where Yoongi’s hard. Yoongi’s breath stutters out, hips jerking forward.

He draws back.

“Jimin…” he sighs.

“What?” Jimin’s voice is combative, eyes alight. “I want to make you come. Are you saying no?”

Yoongi wiggles a little bit at that, trying to control his shudder.

“Your leg—”

“You’re not going to be riding my knee,” Jimin snaps. “I just want to jerk you off. Maybe take you in my mouth.”

Yoongi swallows and Jimin tracks the movement. He smiles.

“It’ll be a lot easier without all these layers.” His voice is softer now, darker. “But I can always make it work if not—”

Yoongi’s hands are working at the pin at his shoulder, tossing aside lengths of fabric. He pauses, though.

“You’ll say something if it’s painful, though, right?”

“Yes.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Can you hurry up?”

Their lips meet again and Yoongi’s eyes slide shut. When Jimin’s hand grips him this time, he lets out a sigh into Jimin’s mouth. Yoongi moves his hips carefully, trying not to squish Jimin too much. Jimin’s hand withdraws for a moment and he tilts his head aside to spit into his hand. Yoongi’s nose wrinkles. Jimin catches it and laughs.

“You look disgusted now, but you won’t for long.”

And his touch feels so much better now, gliding across his dick with enough ease and skill to make Yoongi’s hips rock forward. He noses down the side of Jimin’s neck, biting with teeth. Jimin’s breath pants against his shoulder.

And then both of Jimin’s hands are gripping onto Yoongi’s ass and he’s saying, “Up, up, c’mon.”

“Up?” Yoongi repeats, drawing back to blink down at Jimin. “What?”

Jimin wiggles down a bit, trying to disguise a wince as he jostles his leg.

“Up,” he urges again, pulling Yoongi’s ass towards him. “Shuffle up. I want you in my mouth. C’mon.”

Yoongi freezes, eyes going wide.

“Oh,” he says. Then he bursts into motion, knee-walking forward. Jimin’s hands guide him into place, fingers firm on his hips. Yoongi ends up with his knees just grazing Jimin’s shoulders, hands propping himself up on the wall. Jimin gazes up at him with hooded eyes and smiles. Yoongi finds it hard to breath.

Then Jimin’s taking his cock in careful hands, guiding him into his mouth. His head tilts back into the pillows, which lets Yoongi slide right to the back of his mouth. Yoongi’s spine goes weak, melting a little into the wall. Jimin’s mouth moves slowly along his length, wet and hot, and it feels incredible. Then he draws back and frowns up at Yoongi.

“This works better when you’re doing most of the work,” he says.

Yoongi hesitates. “But what if I choke you?”

Jimin rolls his eyes and settles into the pillows more. “Give me some credit.”

“Jimin.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll pinch you if it gets too rough. Okay? Now hurry up and fuck my mouth or I’ll just get myself off and go to sleep.”

With a start, Yoongi realises Jimin’s arm has been moving rhythmically this whole time. He glances over his shoulder and sees Jimin’s robe rucked up around his hips, hand moving over his cock. His tongue darts out to wet his suddenly dry mouth.

“Yeah, okay,” he murmurs. “Yeah.”

Jimin’s other hand is gripping his ass and he follows his guiding so his dick slides past Jimin’s lips again. He holds still for a moment. Jimin doesn’t seem to like that – his head raises up and he takes the full length of Yoongi’s cock down his throat. Breath punches out of his lungs and his hips stutter. Jimin’s fingers tighten on Yoongi’s ass, fingers biting in. The look on Jimin’s face is more cranky than wanting to stop, so Yoongi presses in cautiously.

Jimin’s mouth feels so good. Every time he pulls back, his tongue flicks around the tip. Jimin’s eyes flick up at him, wide-eyed and innocent. His lips are completely stretched around Yoongi and wet. Drool slicks down his chin. Yoongi’s mouth drops open. Jimin’s eyes crinkle for a moment then slide shut, a moan rumbling up from his throat and across Yoongi’s dick.

It’s very much put on, and Yoongi knows that logically, but physically? His whole body tingles.

His thrusts grow stronger. Jimin’s cheeks hollow. The feeling of his lips and tongue is maddening. Jimin’s shoulders wiggle a little and Yoongi freezes, then realises that Jimin’s still touching himself.

“Shit,” he whispers. Jimin gives him that crinkle-eyed look again and tilts his head back a little more. The next time Yoongi thrusts in, his cock hits the back of Jimin’s throat. Then there’s the sensation of Jimin swallowing around him. “Jimin, Saints, Jimin. I’m going to come.”

He goes to draw back, but Jimin’s nails dig into his ass and keeps him in place. Jimin’s head comes up, meeting Yoongi’s thrusts. His eyes are expectant. Yoongi can’t hold back anymore. He comes down Jimin’s throat with a moan.

Jimin swallows, eyes still locked on Yoongi’s. Then he shudders, head pushing back into the pillows so Yoongi’s cock falls from his mouth. He moans and the sound goes right to Yoongi’s dick. Even though he’s just come, he feels that familiar tightening again.

Jimin’s eyes crack open and he gives Yoongi a self-satisfied smile, lips puffy.

Yoongi frowns down at him.

“Wait, did you just…?”

“Yep,” Jimin says. “Now I’m sticky. Clean me up.”

Yoongi stares down at him. Jimin blinks slowly back.

“Fine,” Yoongi grumbles. He ungracefully shuffles off the bed, walking on shaky legs to the bathing room. When he comes back, Jimin’s stripped off his robe completely. Yoongi carefully cleans him off, wiping up the spilled come then wiping at Jimin’s face.

“How is your knee?” he asks lowly.

Jimin’s eyebrows flicker down in irritation. “It’s fine.”

Yoongi can’t stop himself from asking, “Are you sure? We did d—”

“You’re not my healer, Yoongi,” Jimin says. “Shut up and cuddle me or get out.”

Yoongi sighs, but complies. When he’s wrapped around Jimin’s side, Jimin places a kiss on Yoongi’s forehead and whispers a good night.

Just as he has before sleeping every night, Yoongi thinks of the GoldSpark’s words.

His time here has a deadline.

The GoldSpark waits a week until they give Jimin the option to be released from duty. Yoongi isn’t there for the conversation, but it’s been buzzing at the back of his mind the whole time. He knows when the door slams open and Jimin limps in. Yoongi can’t read his face, but his knuckles are white around his crutch.

Hobi comes forward, face stressed. “Here, you can sit down here—”

“I don’t need to sit,” Jimin says, tone short. Hobi backs away. Yoongi watches Jimin warily. He slowly shifts upright, closing the book he’d been reading.

“Jimin,” he says carefully, “how are y—”

“When are you leaving?”

Yoongi freezes.

Jimin limps closer.

“I know you’re planning on leaving. You’ve done everything you need to here and I know what the conditions get like in winter. Every day you wait they get worse. So, when are you leaving?”

Yoongi’s stomach clenches. He still can’t read Jimin’s face. Is he angry? Is he upset? He’d been avoiding thinking about this, but Jimin’s right. He can’t afford to stick around much longer. Jimin and he have a deadline.

He keeps his face neutral as he says, “We haven’t finalised anything yet.”

Some tension leaves Jimin’s shoulders. He glances around, then limps over and seats himself in a chair next to Yoongi’s.

“The GoldSpark visited me today,” he says, eyes focused on arranging his crutch next to the chair.

Yoongi’s breath stills.

“Oh?”

“And they told me something interesting.” Jimin meets his eyes. Yoongi’s muscles tighten. “They released me from duty. But only if I wanted.”

Yoongi barely dares to move.

“And what did you say?” he asks, voice low to match Jimin’s.

“I’ll never be able to fight properly again,” he says. “My knee will heal and I’ll be able to use it, but it will always be weak. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be able to carry out my duties, though. I still can. I can hold liquid resin longer than anybody else, functional knee or not. I am not useless now.” Fire snaps in his eyes.

Yoongi rears back a little. “I know that. I wouldn’t ever think that.”

“Then why did you ask the GoldSpark to release me from duty?”

“They told you?”

“I guessed.”

Yoongi’s fingers fidget around the edges of the book.

“I wanted you to have the option to do whatever you liked,” he says, eyes dipping down to his lap. It’s easier to talk to his knees. “I know how much your duty means to you. I know you feel indebted to the GoldSpark and Namjoon for taking you in and you’d do anything to protect them. But Jimin… it’s your life. Not theirs. I wanted to give you the option to choose. That could mean choosing to stay in the GoldSpark’s employ if that’s what you want. Or it could mean moving to be closer to Mama Yava and the Blight. I know how much you hate the court. It could mean… anything, really. The GoldSpark offered me anything and I just wanted you to have a choice.” Yoongi shrugs, eyes slowly drifting back up. “That’s all.”

Jimin doesn’t look angry. His head is tilted to the side, eyes searching.

“What if my choice was to come with you?”

Yoongi’s eyes go wide. He can’t control the look on his face. Out of everything that could happen, he hadn’t expected this.

“I— I wouldn’t ask that of you. That’s not why I asked the GoldSpark.”

“So you wouldn’t want me to come with you?” Jimin’s eyebrows quirk up. He doesn’t look very offended by this. Yoongi still finds himself scrambling for words.

“No, that’s not what I— of course I would. But Jimin… everything you love is here. I would never ask you to leave that.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered. And it’s not.”

“What?”

“Not everything I love is here. There’s you, too.”

Yoongi’s toes curl up.

“You… what?”

“Of course I love you, you idiot.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “You think I’d let just anyone in my bed? When I’m injured? You think I’d risk myself to save every person I fuck?”

“You love me,” Yoongi repeats softly. “Really?”

Jimin huffs, grabbing his crutch and poking Yoongi in the shoulder with it. Pink is spreading across the tops of his cheeks. “Did I break you? Hey. Fix your brain, or whatever. I need an answer.”

“An answer? To what— oh. Jimin. You mean more to me than anyone—”

The crutch stabs into his shoulder again. Jimin’s face is bright red.

“No, idiot! I didn’t mean a love confession! I just… I need to know, Yoongi. If my choice is to follow you. Will you have me?”

“But the Blight—”

“That’s not what I asked.” Jimin’s eyes are like steel, blush gone.

“Taehyung—”

“Yoongi.” Jimin takes a deep breath. “Is that a no?”

“What? Of course it’s not a no,” Yoongi snaps. “Why would I say no? I can’t— I just… There’s nothing I want more than to show you my home. To… to be with you there. If you wanted.”

Jimin’s eyes close. Tension drains from his body and his head folds forward.

“Jimin?” Yoongi’s voice is tentative. He shuffles out of his seat, landing on his knees in front of him. He reaches out carefully and takes one of Jimin’s hands, firming his hold when Jimin doesn’t pull back. “Is that what you want? Did I say something wrong?”

Jimin’s fingers grip around his. His eyes meet Yoongi’s and he smiles so wide his eyes disappear.

“You didn’t say anything wrong. That’s what I want. That’s what I told the GoldSpark. I just wasn’t sure if you…”

“Jimin,” Yoongi whispers, “I love you. I think I started falling for you on the road here but I just… I never could’ve dreamed I’d have you.”

“You have me.” Jimin’s hand pulls out of his, coming up to cup his face. “Of course you have me.”

Then his lips come down and they’re kissing, Yoongi straining up into Jimin. It’s soft, wonderful, and Jimin’s hands cup Yoongi’s jaw like he’s something precious. Everything just clicks into place. The stress, the worry of the past weeks drain away. Yoongi feels like he’s floating.

Jimin’s thumbs swipe across his cheeks as he pulls back.

“You’re crying,” he says. Yoongi realises with a start that he’s right – his cheeks are wet.

“I’m happy,” Yoongi replies. “I just… I didn’t think this would happen. I thought I’d lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” Jimin says, pressing the words into his lips. “Not unless you want me to leave. Or unless the highland food is really as bland as they say.”

That startles a laugh out of Yoongi.

“What? No one says that. Highland food is better than the slimy stuff you have down here.”

“Everyone says that. But I guess I’ll see.” Jimin’s hands draw him back in and he places kisses along his jaw. Yoongi sighs, melting into him.

Then Jimin draws back again and his eyes look wary.

“I can’t ride yet, though.”

“We can wait until your knee is better.”

Jimin smiles, but it’s a little sad.

“You can’t wait here that long. Your people need you.”

Yoongi is silent. Jimin’s right. He can’t leave his viceroy alone at a time like this. And he can’t send the money by itself. He needs to go back.

“When my knee is better, I’ll make the journey myself. It’ll give me time to wrap things up here, too.”

Yoongi searches his eyes for any hint of doubt. Anything.

“If, once your knee is healed…” He doesn’t want to say it, but he needs to. He won’t force Jimin into anything. “If you change your mind. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Yah!” Jimin draws back, slapping him across the shoulder. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve said? I’m not going to change my mind.”

Yoongi sets his jaw. “Promise me.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

Yoongi’s jaw clenches further and he doesn’t say anything. Jimin glares at him for a moment before huffing in frustration, throwing his hands up.

“Fine! Fine! If that’s what makes you happy, I promise. I can also promise you I won’t, though.”

Something in Yoongi settles. He releases a slow breath, melting against Jimin’s good leg.

“Thank you,” Yoongi whispers. He tilts his head so he’s no longer meeting Jimin’s eyes. “I… I would never hold it against you if you changed your mind.”

Jimin’s hand cards through his hair gently, then grabs hold and jerks his head up.

“I won’t change my mind,” he says, face serious.

“Okay,” Yoongi says.

Jimin’s eyes narrow.

“I won’t.”

Someone knocks on the door and Yoongi flinches. Hobi’s voice drifts in.

“Are you two done yet? Can I come back? Or are you naked. You better not be fucking in the—”

“Come in, Hobi,” Yoongi calls, face red. Jimin snickers.

Hobi pushes into the room, tray loaded with food in hand. Yoongi hadn’t even realised he’d gone. He hadn’t really paid attention – everything had been Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.

Hobi’s eyes narrow when he sees them and he pauses.

“Are you two sure you’re not about to fuck?”

Yoongi suddenly realises he’s still on his knees in front of Jimin’s chair, Jimin’s hand in his hair. He jolts backwards but Jimin’s hand keeps him in place.

“We’re not—”

“Why, would you like to watch?” Jimin asks sweetly.

Hobi’s face goes blank for a moment before he bursts into laughter. Yoongi’s face scrunches up and this time when he pulls away, Jimin lets him go. Jimin’s snickering now too.

He pushes himself up and sits sulkily in his chair. Hobi comes over and lays out the food, him and Jimin trading rapid-fire insults. Yoongi isn’t really paying attention. He can’t keep his eyes off of Jimin, warmth lighting up his chest.

It’s not the end of them. Not at all. This might be the beginning of the rest of their lives, instead.

He settles into the couch, knows he’s smiling dopily at nothing, but doesn’t care enough to change it.

They leave the palace three days later. Yoongi tells himself that he’s not going to cry, but his eyes fill up as soon as Taehyung hugs him.

“—and I’ll come visit you, of course, but you’ll be back here soon, right? To do your highlord things. I’ll make Seokjin make Namjoon make the GoldSpark order you back so you’ll have to come, not that I think you’re reluctant or anything since we are family now, but—”

“Taehyung, do you think you should let someone else say goodbye too?” Seokjin’s voice is cooly amused.

Taehyung is attached to Yoongi like a vine, long limbs wrapped all around him. He’s rocking them back and forth and blabbering in his ear, broken up by intermittent sniffles. Yoongi tries to tell himself that he hates it.

“You’ll have your turn,” Taehyung snaps. “This is my time. Back off!” His voice loses all ferocity when he sniffles and says, “I’ll miss you so much and Yeontan will too. We’ll both miss you but you promise you’ll be here for the wedding, right? Not that we’ve decided on a date or anything else but I need to know you’ll be there—”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi says, pulling back and cupping his face firmly. “I’ve already said I would. Remember?”

Taehyung’s eyes are shiny and his nose is red. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

“So I will. I won’t miss it for anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And you can always write to me.”

“You can’t help me with my yuji forms through a letter.”

Yoongi blinks back the sudden tears.

“I know,” he says softly.

“This is getting too emotional,” Seokjin declares, shoving Taehyung aside and ignoring his yelp. “I’m a very empathetic person, you know, and if I cry I won’t have time to get rid of the face puffiness and my whole day will be ruined.”

He doesn’t look like he’s anywhere near tears, but when he wraps Yoongi up in a tight hug, he whispers in his ear, “Don’t expect me to ever say this again, but I’ll miss you. Stay in touch.”

And then he’s gone and Namjoon is in his place. His hug is firm and quick. When he pulls back, he clutches Yoongi’s hands and looks earnestly into his eyes.

“You will always be welcome here,” he says. “I consider you one of my closest friends, Min Yoongi. Don’t turn into a stranger up in those highlands again, okay?”

Yoongi presses his lips together and nods. His heart hurts.

Namjoon claps him on the shoulder. “And reach out when you need help next time, okay? Family looks out for one another.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath and says, “I will. Thank you, Namjoon.”

He smiles at him and steps aside. Jimin is the only one left. Yoongi’s hands clutch at his reins and he has to concentrate on his breathing. Jimin and he had said their goodbyes properly earlier, but it doesn’t make it any less painful now. This is the last time Yoongi will see him in a while. Or maybe ever, if Jimin changes his mind.

Jimin seems to read what he’s thinking. His hands come up to cup Yoongi’s face and he says, “I’ll see you soon, okay? This isn’t goodbye.”

Yoongi blinks hard, but a tear still slips free.

“Okay,” he whispers.

Jimin leans forward and presses a light kiss to his mouth.

“I’ll see you soon,” Jimin repeats, words breathed into his lips.

Yoongi’s hands come up to draw him closer and deepen the kiss. Seokjin hoots, making Yoongi draw away with a blush.

“Soon,” Yoongi says. His eyes trace Jimin’s face, trying to memorise every part of it. The sharpness of his jaw, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the look on his face as he gazes at Yoongi.

Jimin presses a last kiss to his lips, then steps away.

Yoongi looks at the small gathering in the courtyard – Jimin leaning on his crutch, Seokjin resting his head on Namjoon’s shoulder, Taehyung being cuddled close to Jungkook’s chest. Hobi standing at his side sniffling. Family. This is what family is. This is family that he chooses and he can’t think of anyone better in the world.

“Thank you,” he says, taking in a shaky breath. “Thank you for everything you’ve all done for me. I… I never expected this when I came here.”

“Tell us how much you love us,” Seokjin calls, eyes bright. “Speech! Speech! Tell us how much you appreciate my fashi— ow, Namjoon, what the fuck.”

“Stop ruining everything,” Namjoon says. “We’re having a moment.”

“Me, ruining things? That’s rich coming from you, crown prince of destruction.” Namjoon’s face goes red, but Seokjin continues on. “And I’m just trying to lighten the mood. You’re all acting like we’ll never see him again. The highlands are far but he’s not dying, Saints.”

“Why can’t you have an emotion!” Taehyung wails.

Yoongi bursts into laughter, clutching at his side.

“No, he’s right,” he says, and now the tears in his eyes are from laughter. Jimin is pressing his lips together tightly to try and hold back giggles, but he’s in a losing fight. “You’ll see us again soon. Okay?”

It’s a lot easier to leave after that. They have to go through another round of goodbyes, but this one is cheerier than the last. Taehyung pinches him on the butt. Seokjin ruffles his hair. Jungkook stutters out an awkward speech.

When they’re out of the palace gates and making their way through the city, Yoongi doesn’t feel as terrible as he’d thought he would. He’s sad and he’ll miss each of them like a limb, but… he’ll be okay.

It’s not the end.

Coming home is an adjustment. When his viceroy greets them at the gates, it feels like he’d never left. Except he feels completely different. A new person. He feels less weighed down by his duties and the past. He feels… freer.

His viceroy notices within the first day, looking him up and down and saying, “You’ve changed.”

Yoongi blinks. “In a bad way?”

“Not at all,” she replies with a small smile.

The first few weeks are spent dealing with logistics. On his way back to the highlands, Yoongi had used a good chunk of Taehyung’s gold to buy grain from several different suppliers. When it arrives, his energy is pushed into distributing it as efficiently as possible. It’s not easy – many families are close to starvation and free food makes people do desperate things. Yoongi has to deploy many of his soldiers to help out. But they make it work.

More of the gold is spent on fixing up equipment and storage that’d been damaged by the floods. Winter is the time farmers spend preparing for the next harvest and this time, it's much more preparation than normal.

And then it’s time to buy seeds. Yoongi spends hours meeting with his agricultural guild, debating which crops should be planted and where the floods had left the most silt-rich soil.

Yoongi tries to keep as busy as possible, but he thinks about Jimin often. Even the smallest things will set him off – a tumbler performing at the markets, a dyed yellow scarf the same hue as Jimin’s resin, street kids that remind him of the Blighters at Mama Yava’s. It’s too cold to float in his favourite natural spring but he often dips his toes in, waiting until they turn blue.

Hobi always finds him eventually and chides him, saying, “Jimin won’t like you as much if you lose all your toes to stupidity.”

He tries not to miss Jimin. He fails.

Taehyung sends him weekly letters, often the length of a novel. He goes into thorough detail about everything going on – how he set Yeontan loose at the hippodrome, the pranks Hyunah cooks up with Seokjin, who now get on almost too well.

When he mentions Jimin, it’s only here and there in the background of other stories. Taehyung had found a yuji instructor in the city and Jimin had begun joining them in their sessions. Taehyung trying out metal-working again to make a cane for Jimin. Only ever mentioned, never featured.

Jimin writes, but it’s not enough. Yoongi feels like he sends word vomit back, just an outpouring of all of his thoughts. It’s not the same as having him living, breathing next to him.

He wonders if Jimin has changed his mind yet. He tries not to, but these are the thoughts that creep in when sleep is elusive. In the dark, all fears are amplified.

Yoongi had spent the morning officiating the games held for Wit’s festival day. It had been a series of brain puzzles that Yoongi hadn’t even tried to figure out, lest he go cross-eyed. There were much smarter people better suited to it than him.

After the brute force of Couranalia and the solemnity of Grace’s festival day, Yoongi quite enjoys Wit’s celebration. As a Fogwing, it’s Taehyung’s family who are responsible for the festivities in the capital. He’d been talking about it in his letters for weeks – all the preparation, the riddles and pranks he was helping his family craft. It’s a much bigger occasion than what happens in Yoongi’s territory, but he likes it nonetheless.

He hasn’t heard from Jimin for three weeks, but he tries not to think on that.

The snow has begun to thaw in the mountains and the rivers are running swiftly again. He has enough to occupy himself. He doesn’t need to worry.

He does anyway.

“My lord?”

His viceroy hovers next to her horse, about to mount up.

Yoongi looks up at the sun shining above him for what feels like the first time in days. The lead up had been nothing but cloud, but Wit must’ve been looking down on them today.

“I think I’ll walk back,” he says. “Do you mind?”

She sighs as she takes his reins, but smiles. “And you too, right?” she says to Hobi. Hobi grins and winks at her. Yoongi watches her lead the two horses down the road, before starting after her. He tries to keep to the paved road. His sandals aren’t really made to deal with mud.

Hobi keeps up a stream of chatter next to him, giving his own rendition of each of the contestants. The winner had been some kind of prodigy, a fourteen-year-old who was set to study in the capital when the season turned. The reigning champion for the past two years had been an old woman, so it’d been quite the upset.

Abruptly, Hobi stops speaking. Yoongi glances at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“You’re not listening.” Hobi pouts.

“I was listening. You were talking about the riddle with the shadow.”

Hobi frowns. “Fine. You were listening.” He goes quiet for a bit and Yoongi can almost hear him thinking. He stifles a sigh. “You know,” Hobi starts. “He’ll be here as soon as he can.”

Yoongi squints up at the sun again.

“I wouldn’t hold it against him if he changed his mind,” he says, for what feels like the thousandth time.

Hobi rolls his eyes. “He’s not going to change his mind.”

Yoongi hums and doesn’t say anything. Silence reigns. Yoongi breathes in the crisp, mountain air and feels his soul steady. He misses the capital, but it was more the people. The city itself never felt clean, not like the mountains do. He wouldn’t want to live anywhere else but here.

The silence is disturbed by wheels creaking along the cobblestones. Yoongi shifts to the side, balancing on the edge so he doesn’t fall into the mud. Hobi falls in behind him. The carriage comes closer, wood creaking as the wheels rumble. Yoongi’s eyes trace over the snowy mountain peaks in the distance. The afternoon sun catches on them, causing them to glow. It’s one of his favourite sights.

He almost doesn’t notice the carriage come to a halt just in front of him. He blinks at it – it’s just plain wood, a squat little house on wheels with a horse at the front. He can’t see the driver. He prepares his highlord face, as Hobi calls it.

Then stops dead when a head pops out of the window, smirking at him, eyes scrunched up into half-moons. Yoongi feels like he’s seeing him for the first time, down in the lowlands with humidity thick around them and Jimin smiling up at him with a grass-stain on his ass.

This time, it’s Jimin who speaks first.

“Would you like a lift?”