shall i stain your name?

by lambkook

Summary:

“name your kingdom. i’ll have it raided and destroyed.”

“my dagger shall find a home deep within your windpipe before the stain of treason touches my family name.”

the servants in the kim kingdom carried their surnames like a burden. maids who reeked of leather balm and soiled laundry hung their heads low, tending to the kim family’s every order.

the first floor of the palace was as distant as the moon from the sun, a life that jimin would never know, for he never held an ounce of bitterness towards his father for passing his duty onto him. 

even as a page, when his mother lovingly plucked splinters from his palms after a weary day of wielding wooden weapons.

even as a squire, when he held his first real sword, thrusting it into a quintain in front of his mentor, who praised him for his natural gifts— he wished it were his father to witness it instead. but alas, his own duty called.

even as he got news of his father’s death, and his mother’s eyes never shone the same again. his only reward for losing his father was a tap on the shoulder from king kim himself and a letter from his mentor. 

‘all knights must bleed. blood is the seal of your devotion to the king.’

even as his mother couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes on the day of his knighting ceremony, she refused to partake in the night of prayer, unable to shake herself of the destiny that jimin would soon meet, the future as his father and his grandfather.

even as he plunged knives into the hearts of thieves with skilled hands, he was proud to be a park, who directly served the king.

such a well-established kingdom that jimin served. centuries of rulers created trust in the quiet villagers and bountiful land for harvest.

the kims were known for their wisdom and diplomacy, almost entirely avoiding assassinations within the royal family. 

kim namjoon had just been formally crowned after his father stepped down due to an evolving illness, and the whole kingdom had been buzzing ever since.

but not the knights. the knights were hushed and disciplined, proceeding with business as usual with no regard for politics. 

metal rubbed against jimin’s toned muscle, years of training dedicated to withstand the heavy weight. 

he oversaw peasants passing by, carrying fresh loaves of bread and baskets of strawberries. newborn children slung around women, curious eyes absorbing the kingdom that they would grow to take pride in, just as jimin had. 

early march was settling in, fresh beginnings blooming in the air during this time of year.
jimin wondered what the new reign would bring to the kingdom— well, if namjoon were adequately trained, life would remain mundane.

heels hitting gravel behind him drew his attention. he turned his helm and rested his palm upon the grip of his sword.
seokjin, the master of the household. not exactly a threat. 

“park, king kim requests your presence.” 
he had seldom spoken to namjoon before; any conversation was directed at his father, while namjoon sat in silence, observing every exchange between them.

what could he have been called for? certainly a squire under his supervision had made a mistake. 

“follow me to the king’s private chambers.”
jimin’s breath hitched, the world slowing underneath the metal that masked his worry.

what business could he possibly have in his private chambers?

“i understand. have you assigned a replacement for estate management?”

“min has been appointed to your spot.”
seokjin turned, signaling jimin to follow him.

each footstep was agonizingly slow as he climbed the staircases, the sound of scraping armor bouncing off the polished walls.

portraits of former reigns gave him something to occupy his mind as he passed through paintings. 

namjoon had yet to be drawn. he best act swiftly if he cared to have his youth remembered. his father had his portrait drawn far too late, captured as wrinkled and frail for the rest of time.

seokjin wrapped a gloved hand around the golden doorknob, cursing quietly to himself as it squeaked open.

“i apologize, master. i will see to it that the maids lubricate the door hinges.”

king kim sat at a large, round wooden table, with papers spread messily along the desk. he waved off seokjin’s comment, motioning jimin to step into the room.

jin was quick to close the door behind him, walking towards the table to gather the papers without a word. 

jimin dropped to one knee, removing the helmet from his head. “my liege.”

“your hair is growing quite long, park. you should cut it before it gets in the way of combat training.”

guilt washed over him at the suggestion, bowing his head, “understood.”

“you may rise,” the king requested, “i have called for your presence after thorough discussion with trusted advisors. come, take a seat.”

jimin bit at the inside of his cheek, rising at his majesty’s command. trusted advisors? was war in the question?

he hadn’t found the time to encounter a maiden to settle down with, much less produce offspring to take his position before his inevitable demise.

jimin kept silent, taking a seat far across from the king. 

seokjin stood at the doorway, hands tucked behind his back. he couldn’t shake the strange feeling— it was unorthodox for him to allow a pair of eyes to rest upon the back of his unprotected skull. 

“you are a capable knight, park. you always have been,” namjoon began, pausing to find his next words. “your natural gifts have been evident since childhood. my father had only good words to speak of you.”

jimin maintained a neutral face, waiting for namjoon to continue. 

“your weapon mastery is on par with your father's at the time of his passing, whilst you are half the age that he was. you outperform in reflexes and endurance, not to mention your strong dedication towards the royal family.” 

“if i may ask, what are you heading towards, my liege?”

namjoon drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a passing moment, “have you heard of the jeon kingdom?” 

jimin remained silent.

“a neighboring kingdom that is quite wealthy, but has quite the negative reputation. the wealth is preserved for the royal family and noblemen, rarely trickling down to the village that is living in destitution. their maids are practically slaves to the royal family, often killed or jailed for the simplest offenses.” 

“meanwhile, our population is thriving, and our economy is exploding. to put it in simple words, we need more land, and a fresh reign is long overdue for them.”

he laughed quietly to himself. “the prince is unfit to rule, with a reputation akin to his parents. hungry for power and riches.”

“i understand. we will be planning an infiltration, shall i see to it that the knights are prepared for combat?” 

“lord, may i?” seokjin interrupted, and jimin turned his head towards him. 

“our majesty hasn’t quite mastered the candor that is required for a king. allow me to be a messenger for the king’s demands.” 

jimin prayed that namjoon would pick up the skill quickly, because this was beyond agonizing.

“park jimin, you are the optimal choice to infiltrate the jeon kingdom.”

jimin blinked, then blinked once more.

“what ever do you mean, seokjin?”

namjoon cut in, “you will become a lowly servant for the jeon family. you will map out the kingdom’s interior, and grow close to the servants and dukes. gain their trust, and decipher who is disloyal, who can be swayed.” 

“when will this commence?”

“yoongi will accompany you tomorrow at sunrise, he will drop you off on horse. then, you will report back in seven moons. report at dusk to avoid suspicion.”

namjoon took in a deep breath. “you are dismissed.” 

jimin bowed, allowing seokjin to open the door as he placed the helm back onto his head. 

the rest of the day passed in a blur. 
jimin barely recalled the conversations that followed the king’s meeting, nor the faces that he passed in the castle corridors. the mission weighed heavily in his chest. 

the thought of supper turned his stomach. the halls were full of servants carrying dishes, and knights who would return from the training yard quietly to fill their plates. jimin had no appetite. 

he instead decided to shed his armor, storing it in the castle armories, before retiring to his chambers.

he made his way through the halls, and once he had reached his room, the last bits of daylight began to fade through his narrow windows. 

he shut the flimsy wooden door behind him, shoulders heavy from the long day. 

jimin removed the leather straps securing his sword and dagger, placing them on the bedside table. 

he had learned to sleep with steel within reach, trained by mentors to draw his weapons immediately upon awakening. 
tomorrow he would have to become someone entirely different. 

jimin crossed through the chamber, entering his adjoining washroom. the basin of cold water sat above a wooden stand, presumably replaced by the maids earlier in the day.

he dipped his hand into it, cupped the water, and splashed it over his face.

the cold shock was futile against his running mind.

he lifted his head, eyes boring into the reflection in the polished mirror mounted to the stone wall.

the king had chosen him. but why?

he supposed he already knew the answer. the king had said it himself. jimin was quick of wit, more than the men in the kingdom who were twice his age. he was observant and adaptable, capable of reading a room before anyone could notice anything worth noticing. 

but more importantly, jimin was quick to draw a blade.

years of vigorous training had made his moves instinctive, as if he were born with a sword in hand. he could find the hilt of his sword before his mind even registered danger. 

the king was a genius. using his most skilled, dedicated warrior within the kingdom, instead of hiring a lousy spy who would turn on anyone when handed enough gold. jimin would have looked to himself for this mission too.

he could infiltrate an enemy camp in the darkness, could fight a man four times his size and come out unscathed. he could ride on a horse for countless moon cycles without complaint, and spend countless nights awake without delusion. 

but to become a servant was ludicrous. the bottom floor of the castle was one he recalled only for safety's sake. he knew no names, no routines, no customs.

jimin had spent his life surrounded by knights and nobles who carried themselves with the same code of honor that he had sworn by. 

the only knowledge that he had possessed came from stories whispered by his mother in childhood. her soft voice echoed in the darkness of their shared chambers as his father worked another gruesome night.

she lulled him to sleep with strokes to his back, telling him of the kingdom that she had been born into. the stone villages and crowded markets, the castle that she had served before she sought refuge in his father’s kingdom. 

she had never described her past kingdom as cruel, but the tinge of bitterness in her voice had always given it away. jimin had been born with the gift of perception, the same skill that his lineage long wielded.
this castle had treated her far better than the one in which she came from. 

he had never had reason to wonder what existed on the other side, but now, he was being sent directly into it. not to kill as he was taught, but to gather the mysteries and report. 

jimin leaned close to the mirror. could anyone mistake him for a servant? 

he scrutinized his reflection, as if he were an unfamiliar opponent himself.

his posture was too rigid. his hands were calloused from steel. his movements were too precise, and his speech was far too literate.

but perhaps he could pass as a merchant.
except from his hair.

long, blond strands stuck to his wet cheeks and neck, dripping water onto his tunic. 
the king had been right about yet another thing— he needed to cut it. if not to properly train, he would need to look at least ordinary. 

his hair grew far too quickly for his liking. 
with a heavy sigh, jimin glanced towards the grooming basket that sat beside the water basin. a pair of scissors was the practical option, but his eyes rested upon the loose dagger.

even now, he found himself reaching for the weapon.  

the scissors would have felt foreign in his hands, but his fingers curled around the dagger with ease. he gathered a handful of his hair in a fist, jaw clenching as he pulled it forward. 

his mother would have never wanted him to embark on this mission. if he were caught and seized, he might never return. 

he brought the blade to his hair, skillfully swiping across the strands in one motion— a clean cut that he would have never made with scissors. 

blond strands scattered across the stone flooring, his hair considerably shorter and rougher than before.

the maids would clean his mess after he departed at dusk.

jimin returned to his bed chambers, exhaustion pleading to overtake his unease. he fell backward onto the mattress. 

tomorrow, he would leave everything familiar behind. his status, his armor, his mother. 
a bell sounded the approaching hour outside of his window, followed by the footsteps of guards making their rounds. 

---

it was early afternoon when jimin arrived at the castle. the village was nothing like the ones that he was familiar with.

no young children running around. no markets selling fresh bread and berries, but eerie stillness. even the birds didn’t dare to chirp as the horse clattered on the chipped pavement.

however, the castle was grand, a stark contrast to the town. the gardens were thriving, with marble stone leading towards the greatest entryway that jimin had witnessed in his lifetime.

“i am a failed wool merchant. my sheep had all been killed in a vicious wolf attack.” 

the maid in front of him quirked a brow, allowing him to continue. “i am looking for a place to reside. i will clean floors, polish wood, anything for bread and a mattress to sleep on at night.”

“we cannot promise a mattress, but bread is a slim possibility. we are always in dire need of staff in the jeon kingdom.” 

jimin pursed his lips, remembering to hang his head low.

“wonderful.” he toyed with the dagger in his sachet, thankful that he didn’t have to slaughter the poor maiden and force his way into the kingdom alone.

that would have complicated his assignment just enough to be bothersome.

“please, follow me.”

jimin bowed his head, waiting for the servant to lead the way. meanwhile, he scorned each crevice of the extravagant entrance into his memory.

His mentor had trained him to do all of these things. when entering enemy territory, learn everything. 

jimin was at a disadvantage for now, until he learned doors, windows, guard posts, blind corners. he needed to learn where an enemy could hide, or where he could escape in an emergency. 

the entrance hall alone was larger than the entire west wing of his own castle. marble rested beneath his shoes, polished so brightly that he could see the reflection of chandeliers within the stone.

gold trimmings adorned the pillars, and tapestries portraying the victories of the jeon kingdom hung along the walls. 

this must have been where the wealth from the kingdom had gone, not to the villages, nor to the servants.

“this is the great hall below,” the maid announced, making his job considerably easier. “isn’t it quite the view?” 

the maidens of the kim kingdom would have never been foolish enough to hire a servant without requesting documents. had his king’s men forge them for nothing? 

“the flooring is to be swept and polished every evening, and the eastern hall is cleaned twice. the kitchens are to be scrubbed after each meal,” she continued. “do not enter the western corridor unless explicitly instructed.” 

the eastern hall, the kitchens, and the western corridor— all would need to be investigated. 

this castle seemed designed to impress rather than defend. there were many decorative arches, windows, and open corridors. 

“you will follow me to the servant’s quarters.”

marble had disappeared, and the air grew colder and noticeably stuffier as they descended a narrow staircase. 

it was nothing like he had just witnessed. 

the rooms reeked of sweat and damp stone. men and women hurried between tables, carrying linens and woven baskets of sponges. 

a loud voice shouted for firewood, and a group of women were arguing over measurements of flour. 

multiple young children slept on simple pallets shoved tightly against the walls, obviously not enough for the countless workers.

one child couldn’t have been older than six, with his knees tucked against his chest. his bare feet stuck out from a quilt— perhaps made by his mother, who must be in the crowds of maids.

it reminded him of his own childhood quilts.
but he hadn’t come to see himself in the enemy, nor pity them. he came to learn how to destroy them. 

“you will wear servant attire,” a maid shoved a bundle of linen into jimin’s open hands, “you will get to work immediately. the stairs need scrubbing.”

she hurried away to join the hustle, leaving him to fend for himself. 

jimin stripped to his undergarments, but not before tucking his dagger into his trousers pocket. he ran his hand across the linen afterward, smoothing it until the outline of the weapon disappeared.

jimin rolled his sleeves to his elbows. he had basic knowledge of cleaning, thanks to his mother’s lessons. she had lectured him on household maintenance, usually whilst scolding him for the messes he left behind in the first place.

‘you will be a proper, clean husband, unlike your father.’

jimin almost smiled at her words as he grabbed a loose bucket of soapy water, a sponge floating on the surface. he climbed the stairs, then headed towards the second-filthiest staircase he could find.

he knelt on both knees and began to scrub.
the same hands that had drawn blood and killed countless traitors and thieves were now being used to scrub dirt from marble. 

“excuse me, miss? are you new?” 

jimin kept his head lowered, hearing the voice of a young girl somewhere behind him.
he silently listened. any information would be useful.

“i said excuse me, miss!” a hand gently grabbed his shoulder and jimin tensed. his fingers instinctively moved towards his hip, expecting to close around the hilt of a sword that was no longer there—only a dagger. 

he turned to see a young woman, cheeks flushed as her eyes traveled across his face.
“i’m so sorry.” 

he raised a brow.

“you looked like a girl from behind, your hair is dyed like a girls would be.”

she swallowed, staring as her cheeks reddened.

“you’re pretty for a male servant.” 

before jimin could conjure a response, the color was quick to drain from her face.“you’re going to be in trouble if you run into him.”

he cocked his head to the side, “into whom?”

instead of an answer, the girl smoothed out her dress, sitting on the stair above him.

she gathered the dirt of the stair into her hands, then reached for jimin’s face.

he recoiled on instinct, but she grabbed at his chin, rubbing dirt into his face.

“what the hell are you doing?”

“saving your life,” she rubbed harder, eyebrows knitted in concentration.

once she pulled her hand away, jimin wiped at his cheek, grimacing at the grime. 

“it’s an awful fate to be pretty around here.”

jimin stared, hoping she would continue speaking and give him useful information. 

“you best under-eat, dirty your face, and forget to bathe.”

“why would i need to disregard my hygiene?”

the girl looked unnerved, eyes darting to the top of the stairwell. jimin followed her gaze, itching to draw a weapon in apprehension. 

she leaned close to jimin, lowering her voice as her breath hit his ear. “the master. prince jeongguk.”

jimin’s hand stilled as she pulled away, resuming scrubbing as if they were discussing nothing of importance. 

“you need to stay away from him. If you happen to run into him, keep your head down.” 

“why?”

“it won’t come from me.”

“what has he done?” jimin pushed further, hoping to extract something worthy of reporting to the king. 

“nothing that a newbie needs to know.”

jimin decided to drop the conversation, soap trickling down his forearms and staining his shirt as he continued to scrub. 

he had come in hopes of uncovering military secrets, but his first piece of information had been a warning of the prince.

dusk had arrived quickly. his body was a different type of sore than what he had grown accustomed to.

his knees were sore from kneeling, and his hands had begun to wrinkle from the hours spent dunked in water. 

not to mention that he had spent an entire sun cycle without consuming anything. 

the maids had just finished cleaning the mounds of dishes left behind from a royal feast, and he was famished.

the servants finally gathered in the great hall below for their evening meal, and jimin followed them.

the air was stale, smelling nothing like the meals that were served in his own castle’s upper tables. 

there were no fresh meats or roasted vegetables, but simply bread and butter. 
at least the bread hadn't run out by the time that he had grabbed his portion. he wasn’t entirely convinced that everyone would be as lucky as him to take two slices. 

as he sat on the floor, he bit down on the crust that was hard enough to chip his teeth.

he grimaced, chewing through the pain. he would need the energy to listen to the servants talking amongst themselves around him.

jimin collected names, places, rumors, and schedules. every scrap of conversation was retained; all would be useful knowledge to the king and the nobles.

jimin had been lucky enough to gather two slices of bread, but not to earn himself a pallet to sleep on. so instead, he settled for the cold floor.

he slipped an arm underneath his head to use as a makeshift pillow. across the hall, a maiden blew out the candles until darkness cascaded throughout the room. 

it took only a moment of silence for the whispers to begin.

“how long do you suppose she will last?”
“another couple of moons at most.”

“i hope she doesn't try to poison him like hwayoung did.”

“stupid girl got herself killed.”

jimin’s eyes remained closed, breathing slowing as he listened.

“they all go mad eventually. she won't stand a chance against him. she couldn't even handle an hour of washing dishes.”

“so who do you think is next?”

“soojin, probably.”

“well, have you seen the new servant?” the familiar voice spoke softly, trying not to wake the children. “it'll be him. i’m sure of it.”

“is he any good at cleaning?”

“he’s adequate.” a hushed laugh followed the young maid’s words before she continued, “not exactly skilled enough to handle jeongguk.”

“the only ones who would be are the elders.”
“and he would never dream of choosing one of them.”

jimin’s mind raced, turning to his side. choice. the word bothered him.

what exactly did jeongguk choose these girls for? did maids commonly disappear around the castle?

jimin could only draw one conclusion. the prince must have a habit of sleeping with his maids, before killing them. 

but there was only one flaw in his presumption— why had they suggested that he would be next? he was no maiden.

perhaps he had an affinity for men as well, just as himself. 

no, he was overthinking it. he needed further information before concluding.

this was to be discussed with the king first. at best, the information could be completely irrelevant to their mission. 

the conversation eventually died down as snoring from the men echoed throughout the room. 

jimin wasn’t quite bothered by the noise, having slept alongside countless snoring men on missions. 

he swore he had only just closed his eyes when a maid shook him awake.

“you must wash up!”

jimin groaned, tossing to the side. he felt like a young child again, not wanting to wake for his morning training. 

“then you'll gather wood for the hearths before the morning feast.”

jimin pushed himself upright, body aching against the hard floor. hopefully a bath would help to clear his mind.

he followed the other servants toward the bathing area. 

“reuse the same water basin as the men,” a maiden instructed. “our resources are scarce this spring.” 

jimin stared at the basin, unable to see his reflection in the murky water. 

he crouched beside the water, sticking a finger inside.

was a bath even worth it? the water would likely dirty him further. 

he cupped his hands beneath the surface, splashing it onto his face.

at minimum, he could wash some of the grime. 

---

a week passes with ease if you are constantly on your feet, or at least that’s what jimin thought to himself.

his body had begun adapting to the relentless work. he tried to look on the bright side—the work would improve his stamina much more than standing guard in front of the castle. 

jimin slipped back into the servants' quarters long before dawn, finding his usual place on the floor exactly where he had left it. no one noticed his absence.

the meeting with the informant and king had gone wonderfully. he had mapped out the entire first floor and the puny village tucked underneath the castle. 

now, he only needed to figure out how to reach higher levels of the castle, and preferably a traitorous duke or two.

the upper floors would have access to military reports and movements, anything that the king would want to know.

but unfortunately, servants were not permitted beyond the lower halls without explicit permission.

at worst, jimin would have to sneak his way through the upper floors during the night. 
it would be a risky move, one that jimin preferred to avoid if possible. nonetheless, he would find a way.

“jimin?” he turned his head to the side, a maid smiling at him as she lit the morning candle. “you’re the second awake.” 

jimin gave her a half hearted smile. “you’re settling into our routine quite nicely. you’ll make a fine servant in a month or two.” 

he pushed himself off of the floor, “does this mean i get to bathe first?” 

“start the bath water.”

jimin took her words as confirmation, unbuttoning his linen shirt as he made his way towards the bathing buckets.

the cold water zapped his muscles as he stepped inside the almost clear water. 

jimin was used to the soreness he gained from combat and rigorous training in heavy armor. never the soreness that stemmed from a crook in his neck after sleeping on the floor for one too many nights.

a knight trained for war, yet defeated by a servant's pallet.

he was grateful for the water, scrubbing the grime from his skin. for a moment, he could almost pretend that he was back in his own kingdom, inside of his private chambers. 

the feeling was fleeting as servants began to rise, causing commotion in the common sleeping chambers. 

jimin dressed himself and immediately returned to the buckets of water. he hoisted one over his shoulder as he climbed the stairwell, heading directly for the western corridor’s staircase. 

“where are you off to?”

an elder maid stood in the hall, watching him. 

“i was going to scrub at the top of the steps,” Jimin answered carefully. “i had gotten permission from soonja.”

the woman studied him before nodding, “as long as she gave permission.” 

jimin exhaled quietly and continued upward. 
those servants were clueless. 

he knelt at the top of the stairs and got to work, the marble cleaner than anything below. he scrubbed along the baseboards, hair still damp from his bath, and thin fabric still clinging to his chest.

the water droplets from his hair mixed with the soap, focused so intensely on the floor that he almost missed the footsteps. almost. 

“you.”

jimin’s hand halted, gradually raising his head to the commanding, unfamiliar voice.
at the very top of the staircase stood a man with soft brown hair and an off-white tunic adorning his upper frame.

he looked nothing like the monster jimin had pictured; in fact, it was almost unsettling how beautiful he was. he was possibly even a few years younger than jimin. 

his features were soft, with nothing particularly threatening about his posture. the knight in him saw little immediate threat.

although he was taller and possibly more muscular than jimin was, he could apprehend this prince in an instant. 

his large, almost kind eyes fixed directly on jimin. 

had he mistaken him for the wrong prince? was this merely a neighboring prince from an allied kingdom? 

jimin immediately lowered his head.

“your highness,” he forced himself to sound meek, but his voice nearly betrayed him. 
“you’re new.” 

“i am park jimin. a failed merchant who has recently begun working within the palace.” 

jeongguk cocked his head to the side, gaze traveling over jimin’s form. 

he didn’t quite feel like a servant being observed by a prince, but rather a pastry being observed by a hungry child from behind the counter. 

he forced himself to still. the longer that the prince stared, the louder that the knight inside of jimin screamed to draw his weapon.

the prince took one step down, “you’re kind on the eyes.”

jimin’s brow twitched, and he prayed the movement had been too small to notice.

he had yet to fully master the art of controlling his facial expressions. it had been easy to hide behind layers of metal, as a helmet could conceal a grimace or an eye roll, but now there was nowhere to hide.
“thank you, sir.” 

jimin recalled what the young maiden had told him, keeping his head to the floor if he had happened to stumble upon the prince. his head snapped down, eyeing the clean floors.

“who said that i was finished speaking to you?”

his stomach dropped.

“your master tells you when to return to work.”

at the bottom of the staircase, jimin could see several maids lingering just beyond jeongguk’s line of sight.

“yes, sir.”

the soft eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “i am your master.”

“yes, master.”

it was strange to address another prince as his master, after serving beneath the kim’s for his entire life. 

the heir to the jeon throne was now claiming ownership of jimin, as if he were just another sheep that wandered into his herd. 

but if anything, jimin was a white panther, able to take down not only the herd, but the shepherd himself. 

jeongguk’s gaze drifted toward his hair. “your hair is pretty. and blond.” 

jimin’s fingers tensed around the sponge.
“i sold herbs as a merchant,” he explained. “i lightened the strands with botanicals, master.”

his mother had dyed her hair when he was young, and jimin had followed in her footsteps. 

the prince stepped down to jimin’s level, forcing jimin to crane his head to meet jeongguk’s eyes. 

the prince took a few strands between his fingers, gently tugging on his head. “keep it like that.”

jimin wanted nothing more than to pull away.
“i like it.”

he bit his tongue. he had no access to the herbs he used back in his own kingdom, and he questioned whether their perishing harvests could produce the herbs he needed.  

what an inconvenience.

“yes, master.” jimin maintained eye contact, waiting as seconds passed, and jeongguk continued to examine him at a closer angle. 

he resisted the urge to look away, his heart beating so loudly that he knew that the prince could hear it. 

“you may resume.”

jeongguk turned on the heel of his shoe, stepping up to the second floor of the castle.

jimin watched him disappear through the corridors, footsteps growing quieter. only once a door had closed, jimin released the breath that he had been holding.

he immediately returned to scrubbing, tightening the grip around the sponge.

jimin needed to get a hold of himself. he had captured and plunged swords into men ten times the size of jeongguk, yet this felt different. 

it was unsettling, how jeongguk looked at him, as if he would be back for him, like he was something worth remembering. 
but jimin could not afford to be remembered during this mission.

the rest of the day was full of sorrowful looks from the servants, as many avoided speaking to him altogether. 

nobody explained why, but they didn’t have to. jimin wasn’t clueless; he already knew his fate was sealed the moment jeongguk spoke to him. 

he considered fabricating his own death and fleeing the kingdom on foot, but the notion of hanging his head low in front of his king forced him onward. 

he couldn’t afford to back out now, not when he had a golden ticket to the first floor of the palace. 

all that remained in question was what jeongguk wanted from him. 

his current strategy was to map out the next few floors of the palace whilst being taken up for whatever lustful thing that the heir would summon him for, then slaughter jeongguk.

---

by the following morning, he was called for by the housekeeper.

he stood waiting outside the servants' quarters with a neutral expression, letting a maid push him out of the door. 

“upon his personal request, you will be working directly under prince jeongguk going forward.”

despite preparing himself for any possible outcome, jimin’s blood ran cold nonetheless.
of all the possibilities he had considered, this had never been one of them.

this had complicated his plan tenfold. the only thing worse than this would be his cover being blown. 

“we will bathe you and provide fresh garments,” he continued, “the prince prefers his personal servant to remain well kept.” 

jimin followed him up the western wing stairs. “he is asleep in his chambers at the moment, and he requested that you be available by the time that he rises.” 

he cursed under his breath. if only he had allowed himself to bathe in filth yesterday, then he would have been overlooked by their heir. 

he had somehow gained the prince’s attention in just seven moons. 

the housekeeper led him through a corridor he had never been permitted to enter.

jimin had kept his expression neutral; however, he was memorizing everything.
three doors, two windows, a guard stationed at the end of the hall, and a corridor to the east. this was exactly what he had been hoping to access. 

he should have been pleased, but sickness remained in the lining of his stomach. 

“prepare yourself,” the housekeeper spoke as if he had appointed countless new servants to this role. 

he probably had, from what jimin had gathered.

nonetheless, jimin stepped inside, eyes widening as he was met with a bathroom more luxurious than some of king kim’s rooms. 

hot water almost spilled from the long stone tub, with fresh garments ironed and folded neatly beside it. 

a bottle of shampoo sat beside a polished wooden brush, engraved with the jeon royal coat of arms. 

this room was far finer than his own bathroom, and he almost felt disgusted.

the servants downstairs were forced to reuse the same filthy bathwater, whilst the prince had enough hot water to fill a tub half the size of a well. 

“thank you.”

jimin bowed as the housekeeper shut the door, the latch click echoing throughout the large room. 

for the first time in weeks, jimin was completely alone.

he couldn’t afford to savor his time, discarding his unwashed clothes and sinking into the tub.

the heat squeezed his muscles, and his eyes fluttered shut, a soft groan escaping him before he could help it. 

with no obligations, jimin would have stayed in the tub until his entire body looked like the former king kim.

but he had a duty to fulfill for his new king, so he forced himself upright, reaching for the soap. 

he was able to scrub the dirt from his skin properly and thoroughly wash his hair. 

jimin’s eyes drifted to his precious dagger left upon the counter, hoping that it would be enough to escape from the guards.

perhaps that exact dagger would be the ultimate cause of prince jeongguk's demise and, soon after, his own kingdom's.

how foolish to pass him the key to the upper castle merely over some bizarre affinity.

after stepping out of the tub, he swiped the folded towel and patted himself dry, scrubbing his uneven, shorter hair.

the garments were unlike anything he had worn in his life. 

the snug linen shirts, breeches, and gambeson that he had grown accustomed to as a knight were adequate for combat, not quite for aesthetics.

and the servants’ clothing was borderline humiliating. 

but the linen of his white tunic was fine and quite soft, the jeon crest embroidered subtly into the fabric. 

it felt like treason, despite his explicit permission to act as though he were loyal to the jeon kingdom. 

the white pair of gloves was next to slip into his fingers before jimin fastened the clasp to his trousers.

he looked harmless and neat, exactly what he wanted.

he grabbed his dagger from the counter, the weight of the steel feeling natural in his palm, like a comforting stuffed animal to a child. 

this dagger would be his only salvation. 
he slipped it into his waistband this time, placing it just off-center of his belt line. 

a laundry maid stood waiting, meant to fetch him. “his highness is awake.”

jimin sucked in a deep breath, trying to clear his mind as he followed her through the corridors, committing every turn to memory. 

the pathway to his chambers from the bathroom was a left turn, a staircase, right, then another corridor. 

the farther that they went, the quieter the castle became. 

knights stood guard instead of chattering maids, with the occasional hushed footstep against the deep red carpets. 

fourteen windows and forty-nine guards lined the hallways. 

the prince favored the western wing, jimin supposed, as the two had reached the enormous door to his bedroom.

he would easily be able to retrace his steps in a raid. 

"his highness instructed me to send you inside."

"alone?"

she nodded, and he turned to ogle at the door. this could work in his favor. 

if he slaughtered the prince and escaped now, he would have almost two-thirds of the palace in his memory, and the odds of discovering the rest of the palace appeared relatively slim. 

the only problem that remained would be political insight. 

he could allow jeongguk a few more days of life if he managed to slip away and make contact with a duke. 

light spilled through tall stained-glass windows, fracturing into pools of color across the wooden floor.

the maid quietly closed the door behind him, leaving him alone in the room with the heir. his hand, almost unconsciously, drifted towards his waistband. he contemplated his next move.

the chamber was significantly warmer than the hallways outside, due to the fire that had recently burnt out in the ridiculously enormous hearth, embers glowing beneath the ash.

two exits, one balcony, and four windows. guards were visible down the halls, they could easily spot jimin if he were to leave.
perhaps the balcony would be in his favor.

jeongguk was sprawled across the bed, a side of him unlike the one jimin had seen just yesterday. 

his dark hair was disheveled, falling onto his forehead and the silk pillows surrounding him.

his shirt hung open, exposing the broad expanse of his chest and stomach.

but he was completely awake, eyes following him from the second that he entered. 

it would be easy. almost embarrassingly easy, with jeongguk lying defenseless in front of him. 

one step forward, a hand beneath his belt. one clean movement that he had practiced so many times. the dagger would be lodged in the prince’s throat before he could scream for the guards.

but killing jeongguk was not the mission, at least not yet, so jimin lowered his head.

“your highness.” 

“you’re late.” the observation was blunt enough that jimin had half the mind to look up.

instead, he kept his head lowered.

“i told them to send you in before i rose.”

“i apologize, master.” the title settled strangely on his palate as he recalled their brief conversation from the previous day. jeongguk had made his preference clear. 

jeongguk shifted onto his forearms, eyes traveling over jimin.

“you weren’t here, so i went to the closet myself. i picked out trousers and a shirt.” jeongguk gestured towards the garment lying loosely across his chest.

“but i need you to button it.” 

“yes, master.” jimin drew his footsteps closer to jeongguk, the prince slipping his feet over the end of the bed and kicking against the bedskirt. 

jeongguk watched him with that same hungry expression adorning his features. 
jimin gently grabbed the hem of his shirt, aligning the bottom button with the hole.
he slipped it in carefully.

if jeongguk was smarter than his servants, he might notice that something was faulty. 
a servant knelt differently than a knight did.

hopefully, the prince wasn’t one for details. 

jimin reached for the hem of jeongguk’s shirt, gloves concealing the callouses across his fingers. 

his attention remained on the shirt, pushing buttons through. 

"you were a lowly servant yesterday."

"yes, master."

"and now you will directly serve me."

jimin yearned to lunge at him, but kept his head low. “yes, master.” 

“does that frighten you?”

jimin nearly laughed.

he had crossed the border of his kingdom undercover in the darkness, slipping past many knights and hidden traps. he had seen his father die, and still carried the burden of one day meeting the same demise.

he had slaughtered more men than most have met in their lives.

"no, master."

"you lie well."

for one brief moment, the world seemed to slow on its axis.

his fingers stopped against the prince's shirt.

had he been discovered? was this purely a test? perhaps the king had known about the infiltration all along?

his hand drifted toward his waistband, but not enough to draw attention.

if jeongguk called for the guards, jimin would kill him without hesitation.

but the prince smirked, tilting his chin up, “you don’t have to lie to me. you’re allowed to be scared.” 

jimin blinked, relief washing over him. 
king kim would have never allowed space for his plans to slip. he would be foolish to think that his own kingdom would betray him.

“i understand, master.”

he had finished the last button, smoothing the fabric over jeongguk’s chest, carefully straightening the collar. 

jimin rose, stepping back to admire his work, "is this satisfactory?"

jeongguk glanced down at himself, then back at jimin. “no.”

before jimin could form a response, jeongguk grabbed the front of the shirt and yanked, the buttons loosening. 

“i don’t like it,” jeongguk announced as jimin’s fingers curled in concealed anger. "do it again."

"yes, master."

he gathered himself for a brief moment, then he began again.

his movements were careful, despite his imagination running rampant with visions of murdering this man.

most involved the dagger, yet some involved the metal rod sitting beside the fireplace. 

of course, there was always the balcony, too, but that would cause quite the commotion and reveal a potential escape route.

by the time that jimin reached the final button, he had fully regained his composure. 

he waited, staying close whilst anticipating jeongguk to yank at his shirt once more. 
but instead, he raised a hand.

jimin knew immediately what was coming, mind and body fighting on whether or not to move. his trained body already knew what to do, but his mind knew that he was to be a servant. 

his head snapped sideways as heat spread across his cheek, the echo ringing throughout the room.

slowly, jimin turned his head back, only to find jeongguk smiling, not particularly angry at all.

“i don’t like this shirt, pick out a new one.” 
jimin nodded, rising to his feet. "yes, master."

what a spoiled fucking brat.

he had expected lust and corruption. the careless indulgence of a prince who wanted to use someone pretty for a night before throwing them in the dungeon.

instead, he had been slapped because the prince didn't the shirt that he picked out himself.

jimin took one step toward the wardrobe.
"don’t move."

he stopped as jeongguk leaned back against the headboard. “remain here for a moment.”

jimin closed his eyes. 

how would he choose a new shirt if he wasn’t allowed to leave his side?

perhaps he found a sick satisfaction in issuing impossible commands. 

perhaps his parents paid him no attention growing up, just as they gave no attention to their starving villagers. 

“shall i grab your new shirt, master?” 

jeongguk answered by pulling at his shirt again, and jimin’s eyes almost widened as the fabric tore open.

buttons flew everywhere and jimin’s sharp eyes followed each of them. they bounced beneath the bed, towards a nearby chair, and onto the bed surrounding the prince.

jeongguk looked beyond pleased with himself. “pick those up first.” 

"yes, master."

he gathered them quickly, one after another, keeping his expression carefully blank.

"you’ve got quite the eye."

jimin didn't look up.

"most maids wouldn't have found those so quickly."

jeongguk continued. “i would have found half of them still in my bed for weeks."

then perhaps he should stop ripping open his shirts and instead take them off like a chivalrous prince would, jimin thought bitterly. 

he swallowed his opinions.

"thank you, master."

"look at me."

jimin stood from his position on the ground, meeting eyes with the prince. "come closer."

jimin obeyed, stopping within arm's reach. close enough to kill the man.

jeongguk extended his hand, "hold out your palm.” 

the buttons rested in the center of his gloved hand, and for a moment, jimin prepared for the prince to knock them to the floor.

but instead, he leaned forward, jimin studying his every move.

“you forgot one button.” 

the prince opened his mouth. and spat.
a single button landed directly in jimin’s palm, accompanied by a generous glob of wet saliva.

the prince smiled, and jimin’s face remained perfectly still. 

it was no wonder that the maids never survived longer than a week. 

jimin closed his fingers around the buttons, “anything else, master?” 

jeongguk’s smile widened, "yes. you are going to choose my shirt.” 

"and if you don't like the next one?" jimin couldn’t stop himself from asking.

jeongguk tilted his head to the side, as if studying jimin from a new angle would help him figure out his next words. 

“i’ll have my guards seize you, and throw you into the dungeon.”

jeongguk searched for a reaction, brown irises passing back and forth, reading into jimin’s apathetic expression.

“yes, master. allow me to pick your new shirt.” 

“allowed.”

jimin cringed at the wetness soaking into his gloves as he pivoted towards the wardrobe. 

“jimin, correct?”

“yes, master.”

"being a maid does not suit you."

jimin’s fingers tightened around the buttons in his palm, turning his head slowly over his shoulder.

“you’re far too pretty.”

jimin said nothing as jeongguk settled back into the pillows, turning to peel his gloves from his fingers. though, he wished to let spit soil all of his tops.

“my past servant had done nothing wrong,” jeongguk spoke aloud while jimin placed his gloves down, wrapping the buttons inside as he sorted through his clothing.

“i sent her to the dungeon because i wanted you instead.”

how generous of him.

it needed to be a tunic, rather than a button-up; another dramatic reaction would be daunting.

jimin quickly realized that jeongguk possessed the extraordinary ability to turn the simplest inconveniences into a tantrum. 

there was no reason to tempt fate. 

he dug through the wardrobe, fingers moving past silk and embroidery, until he found a tunic of fine wool. he plucked it from the hanger and and brought it toward jeongguk. 

“you removed your gloves.”

“i didn’t want to dirty your garments, master.” 

“let me see the shirt.”

jimin prepared himself. if jeongguk lived up to his word of ceasing him, he would have to apprehend him and muffle his mouth if he tried to scream. 

“i will allow it.”

jeongguk snatched the tunic from jimin’s hands, pulling it over his torso.

truly a pity. he would have loved an excuse to murder him.

“shall i fetch a pair of socks and shoes?” 
jeongguk kicked his feet off the bed. “i want soft leather shoes today.” 

“understood.”

jimin thanked whichever god had made slipping on jeongguk’s shoes easy.

“now, you will follow me into the dining area,” jeongguk announced. “i am starved.”

jimin was, too.

but he was certain the brat would scarf down plate after plate of meat, not concerned about whether his servant had eaten at all.

if he would allow him to eat in the first place. perhaps he would let him starve to death in the castle.

jimin followed jeongguk through the halls, maintaining a respectful distance behind him.

there would be an advantage to accompanying the prince everywhere: new vicinities to survey and memorize. 

he stored each observation away. two guards were stationed near the eastern staircase, three servants entering the kitchens. jimin would remember it all.

“tea and bread, please!”

jeongguk’s voice echoed through the dining hall as jimin stood behind him. 

“take a seat with me.”

jimin hesitated— perhaps this was another trap. either way, he knew that the worse fate would be disobeying a command.

“yes, master,” he sat beside jeongguk, feeling out of place.

he had never seen a servant sit beside royalty. and even then, jimin had spent his entire life being taught that proximity to the royal family was to be born into or earned.

jimin had not done anything to earn this seat, but jeongguk treated the action as if it were nothing. 

a plate of bread and a cup of tea were set on a fine ceramic plate in front of jeongguk. the prince seemed quite pleased, immediately beginning to devour the slices in front of him.

at least it was bread.

jimin had survived on enough stale bread in his life that he doubted he would ever look at it the same way again.

he watched jeongguk tear off a piece by hand like a peasant. 

“you!” jeongguk jabbed his finger towards a loitering butler. “replace jimin’s gloves. now.”
“at once, your highness.”

he bowed, immediately disappearing behind the doors to fetch a pair. 

jeongguk continued eating, and jimin watched him carefully.

the man spat into his palm; he was eating bread without table manners, yet he required jimin to wear a pair of gloves.

what a puzzling man.

when the butler returned with a fresh pair, jeongguk had finished his light breakfast.
jimin accompanied him through the rest of the morning, then the afternoon. it felt like an endless loop of lessons. 

latin, history, politics, mathematics. jimin nearly fell asleep during the lectures on latin.

he found himself feeling almost guilty about everything namjoon had to endure to inherit the crown.

at least he was enthusiastic.

namjoon cared about people, politics, military strategy, history, and his personal duties as a ruler. 

but jeongguk couldn’t seem to care less, evident by the way that he stared out of the window, picking at the fabric of his sleeves. 

he interrupted his tutors, asking completely irrelevant questions, then forgetting information as quickly as it was taught. 

in fact, jimin could’ve answered most of the questions jeongguk had asked purely from memory of his own rigorous training.

granted, his education had been heaps lighter on documents and paperwork. 
jeongguk seemed to despise every second of it.

by the time that jimin had undressed him and blown out his evening candle, his own energy was beyond depleted. especially considering his lack of food.

but he counted his own blessings, thankful that he wasn’t sleeping on the cold floor of the servant chambers any longer.

this position was strangely similar to his duties as a knight. standing, watching, doing nothing unless instructed and acting when necessary.

there was a canopy above his bed, with gold trim lining the walls. he even had his own hearth— more space than he knew what to do with. 

it was remarkably better than his room at the kim kingdom, and he almost felt guilty for noticing. 

the next morning, he had learned his lesson: to pick a tunic instead of a button-up and to keep his hands far from jeongguk’s face. 

he followed jeongguk through the halls, attended his lessons, and made certain that he remained well groomed throughout the day. 

by the time that supper came around, jimin sat beside jeongguk once again.

it felt unnerving to witness the amount of people who surrounded the royal family during meals. chefs, knights, butlers, and servants lingered, eyes all focused on jeongguk.

jimin had done his rounds of supervising members of the royal family whilst they ate, but he had never been on the other side of it. he had never felt so many eyes upon him.

what was almost more unnerving was the absence of his parents. it seemed as though they were entirely separate from jeongguk’s life.

perhaps they understood that he was unfit to rule, and were trying for another son. jeongguk still had over twenty years before his reign would begin, and the jeons must have believed they had time. 

namjoon didn’t. his father had grown ill quickly, and now the jeons had no time to spare.

their new ruler would be kim namjoon, soon enough. 

a large roasted chicken was set in front of jeongguk, a servant carving into it with a large knife, placing slices of meat onto his plate. 

his eyes narrowed. “did you not make a plate for my servant?”

jimin blinked, caught completely off guard. 

the butler was quick to grab another plate without a word, carving several additional slices of chicken. roasted vegetables and potatoes followed, then the plate was placed in front of him.

jeongguk waited until jimin had received his food before picking up his fork.

“you need to eat too,” he said. “or else you won’t have enough energy.”

jimin picked up his fork, stabbing a piece of chicken.

jeongguk took a bite of potato, and jimin followed. 

he kept his eyes on jimin as he reached for a piece of chicken. 

“your highness,” a maid interrupted, “remember your table manners. you cut the meat with this knife.”

when she gestured toward one of the three knives beside his plate, jeongguk's expression changed.

the prince picked up the designated bread plate, examining it for a moment, pretending as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. 

then he hurled it against the wall, the action was so quick that jimin could’ve missed it if it weren’t for the crash echoing throughout the dining hall.

“clean that up instead of telling me how to eat,” jeongguk spoke calmly, staring at the frozen maid.

that hopeless brat would never get far as a king.

jeongguk calmly continued eating, eyeing the maids scrambling to collect the shards of ceramic.

then, he looked toward jimin. “don’t eat the vegetables. they're not good.”

jimin glanced down at the vegetables on his plate, poking one with a fork, then at jeongguk.

“yes, master.” 

over the course of the following week, jimin slowly began to learn what would set jeongguk off, and more importantly, how to avoid it.

he seemed to chase any negative attention, provoking servants to see what would happen. 

he would complain about food that he had specifically requested himself. he would ignore his tutors until they raised their voices and threatened to alert his parents. he would throw anything in sight when anyone tried to correct him.

jimin concluded that it was an obvious failing on his parents’ end, as he hadn’t caught a single glimpse of them once during the course of the week.

he had, however, witnessed many guards seize staff countless times for spilled wine or for forgetting a command.

jimin had to learn to control his emotions quickly and avoid interfering.

by the time that seven moons had passed, the castle no longer felt entirely unfamiliar.

when it was finally time to slip out of the castle and meet with the king’s strategists, he had much to report: the dynamics of the castle, the weakness in security, political lessons that he had overheard from tutors, and not to mention the division in the royal household.

but one thing remained. 

he had no reach in the nobility, and nothing that could guarantee a clean path to victory. 
he supposed that it would be up to king kim to decide on whether the mission was worth pursuing further, and whether jimin should return at dusk.

or, whether he should begin preparing route for war. 

jimin drew in a breath, holding the flame of the candle close to his lips.

“wait,” jeongguk reached toward him.
out of instinct, jimin passed the candle into his other hand so that jeongguk couldn't knock it from his grasp.

but instead, jeongguk grabbed his wrist.

“don’t go back to your chambers tonight. i want you to stay and watch me sleep.”

what kind of request was that?

controlled rage plagued jimin’s mind.
there was limited time to flee. min was probably already approaching the village on horseback. he had no time to indulge in jeongguk’s childish games.

“why would i need to do that, master? are you afraid of an attack?”

“i’ll be lonely.”

the whisper was quiet enough that jimin almost didn’t hear them.

“the heir to the throne should—“ be able to sleep alone.

jimin bit his tongue. that sentence would have caused an uproar, which was the last thing that he needed tonight.

“should what?” jeongguk pushed.

“should be able to rest without a worry,” jimin recovered quickly, and jeongguk seemed satisfied enough. 

“sit on the chair. i do not mind if you fall asleep.”

“understood, master.” jimin blew out the candle, and darkness swallowed the room.
he would wait until jeongguk's breathing softened, then he would slip out. 

jimin couldn't risk his kingdom believing he had been beheaded. or, worse, that he had betrayed them.

surely yoongi wouldn't mind if he were an hour late, so jimin waited. 

jeongguk’s breathing eventually slowed, and he no longer heard maids running across the floors. 

jimin waited until moments before the next bell chimed; he would need to escape while the knights were changing position. 

chime.

he silently peeled off his shoes, stepped towards the door, then turned the knob.

“where are you going?” jeongguk whined.

jimin cursed under his breath. “i am parched. i need a cup of water.”

“no, you don’t,” jeongguk’s voice was heavy with sleep, shuffling under the sheets. “you’re going to stay here.”

it was an empty threat, jimin knew that much.

he could kill the prince if necessary.

his fingers brushed against the dagger tucked under his waistband, calculating how he would strike.

he could leave in the darkness, and his body would be uncovered in the morning, after jimin was long gone. 

“please don’t go.” the words were small as he hugged his pillow, burying his head into it. 

he almost felt guilty, but was quick to shake it away.

he couldn’t feel sympathy for the enemy. after all, his goal was to bring jeongguk and his family down. that’s why he had endured all of the suffering that jeongguk put him through. 

it had now been fourteen moons since he had stepped foot into the castle, only to be tormented by jeongguk for seven of them. 

“i’ll have you seized if you leave,” jeongguk’s threat lacked any conviction, lazily eyeing jimin at the door. 

jimin knew it, and jeongguk knew it too. nonetheless, jimin couldn’t afford to risk it.
“i’ll stay.” 

jeongguk silently waited until jimin back down on the sofa to roll back over. “goodnight, jimin.”

“goodnight, master.” 

jimin fell asleep on that chair. 

and the next morning, he woke jeongguk for breakfast.

jimin had discovered that dressing the prince was far less tedious when jeongguk was in a good mood. 

he was fortunate today, as jeongguk merely stood still, letting jimin do all of the work for him.

he accompanied him to breakfast, eating by his side.

then, jimin sat through morning briefings, storing away more information about local politics.

thoughts swam through his mind about his failure to return at dusk. would yoongi come back to meet him next week? would the king send someone else? would jimin have no choice but to flee on foot if jeongguk refused to allow him out of his sight? 

“shall we proceed to your latin tutoring, master?”

jeongguk sighed, scraping his knife against the plate. jimin winced.

“i have sword-fighting lessons for the next few moons. i hate it.”

jimin bit the inside of his lip.

his grandfather had led many of namjoon’s sword-fighting lessons before his passing. and if jimin survived long enough, he was certain he would eventually be appointed to the same position.

if he ever made it back.

“i understand, master. we best get going, then.”

he followed jeongguk to the castle courtyard.

another place to map, and a new set of guards to memorize.

jimin sat on a nearby bench and watched jeongguk complete footwork drills.

he didn't know which was worse: jeongguk, or the sorry excuse for a master-at-arms.

it reminded jimin of children in the kim village, pretending to play teacher and student while their parents worked nearby.

“i don't know to do this,” jeongguk complained.

he stomped his feet as if he were an irritated rabbit, swinging the wooden waster through the air with absolutely no control.

jimin covered his mouth, trying to avert his gaze.

“can’t i just move in like this?”

jeongguk lunged at the master-at-arms, and the man immediately surrendered him, obviously exerting all of his strength to teach the prince a lesson.

it was quite sloppy. jimin could have easily taken both of them with one swipe of his sword.

at least jimin now knew that jeongguk would bleed out during the invasion, before he could even reach for his armor.

he hoped that his death would come painless and quick.

as the foolish training finally came to a close, jeongguk was out of breath and dripping in sweat. he practically collapsed into jimin’s arms.

“they make it so hard,” he complained. “i know real combat is nothing like this.”

“is that so?”

“i could fight an infiltrator with my bare hands. i know i’d win.”

jimin raised an eyebrow, allowing jeongguk to lean on him as they exited the courtyard.

“i have enough muscle to take them down.”

“you eat quite a bit of meat,” jimin mused, deliberately encouraging him. “keep doing that, and you could take down any intruder.”

“you get it.”

jeongguk ascended the stairs, legs shaking from the exertion, “i just can't stand swords.”

“your grip is too tight,” jimin carefully added, “try to relax it. it all comes down to flexibility. you can’t do much without proper groundwork.” 

jimin anticipated an argument, but instead, jeongguk barely registered his words. 

“whatever.”

the prince yawned as they crossed the long corridor toward his chambers, one hand trailing lazily along the carved stone wall.

“i would like to take rest.”

what a useless heir.

he had been trained to observe a kingdom's weaknesses, and there was no mistaking the weakness before him.

jeongguk appeared to hold not even an ounce of ambition.

“then i shall tuck you into bed, master.”

the prince continued towards his room, and jimin followed him in. he threw himself upon the bed with a dramatic sigh.

“sit with me.”

jimin remained standing, questioning if he had misheard him. “i beg your pardon?”

“sit.”

“yes, master.”

jeongguk lifted himself against the headboard, looking almost offended as jimin hesitated.

“i said sit with me.” 

“in your bed?”

“yes.”

there was a brief pause, before jeongguk patted the space beside him.

“i am going to take a nap. you shall take one with me.”

“master, i assure you, i have no need to rest.”

“jimin.”

“yes, master?”

“come here.”

refusal was impossible. but even if it were, jimin wasn’t sure that he would have declined. 

jimin approached the bed with caution, sitting upon the edge of the mattress.

it earned him a frown from the prince. “you are sitting as if i have laid a blade beneath you.”

“i am a servant, master. does this command not seem improper?”

“you follow my word. if i command you to sit, it is more than proper.”

so, jimin lay down, as to appease jeongguk. 

he smiled, immediately curling closer to him as jimin started at the chandelier on the ceiling. 

how intolerable.

the prince was asleep within minutes, but jimin was not. 

he had learned that the prince was a light sleeper— there was no slipping away from his sight.

so instead, he listened to the rhythm of jeongguk’s breathing and wondered how such a careless man could inherit the crown.

he would have to endure this for quite a while, he presumed.

possibly until his kingdom came to raid despite jimin’s disappearance.

---

a month passed with no trace of an infiltration.

jimin had long memorized the castle, aside from the halls where his parents resided. they seemed to avoid jeongguk like the plague—and with jimin practically glued to his hip, he had no luck seeing them.

so instead, he ate extravagant meals, walked through endless corridors, and watched childish temper tantrums destroy servants’ lives.

he had come to understand what the servants had been so fearful of.

they had been plucked from the only lives that they had ever known, only to be thrust into the palm of a prince with little patience and a short temper.

they had no training, no knowledge of court, and no understanding of when silence was the wise choice. 

of course they had made mistakes, and jeongguk was merciless about them. 

so jimin watched servants disappear one by one, not asking where they went, because he already knew.

perhaps he possessed an unfair advantage, with two decades of knightly training that taught him lessons no household servant could ever know. 

he had outlasted every servant who had come before him, and yet, there were still no signs of escaping.

and even worse, jeongguk had begun to ask them to share his bed each night. 

jimin was nearly certain that his own mattress had gathered layers of dust, and he ought to hate it. he did.

but he had grown too accustomed to this role-play, and the role was quite a comfortable one to sit in. 

but his duty remained unchanged: he must find his way back to the kingdom. he must allow his king to decide whether jeongguk's family was worth slaughtering.

but when jeongguk tugged on his sleeve at night as he blew out the candles, he nearly believed that his duty might be to protect jeongguk, rather than his own kingdom. 

perhaps it was his training to protect royalty that was getting in the way, and his brain had become muddled. 

and now, he caught himself following a step behind jeongguk, guarding the sphere of proximity between them.

“your hair is growing long.”

they were walking through the western gallery, sunlight shining through the tall windows.

“are you asking that i cut it, master?”

jeongguk grimaced. “by no means.”

jimin’s heart fluttered, taking a strand between his fingers. 

jeongguk eyed him.

“the black beneath the blonde has begun to show,” jeongguk turned his head towards jimin, “what botanicals do you use to dye it?”

“it is quite a handful of herbs, master.”

“then they shall be gathered by nightfall.”

jimin furrowed his brows. “do they grow in your kingdom?”

“I will see to it.” jeongguk’s voice rose with slight agitation. “answer my question. which botanicals do you need?”

he tried to recall the process. “walnut bark, alum, and oak apples to begin with. they strip away the black coloring.”

jeongguk listened with unexpected attention, something uncommon for the scatterbrained prince. “and afterward?”

“saffr, boxwood, and cumin are worked into the strands. the process takes several days, sometimes more than a week.”

“and you did this often as a merchant?”

“yes master.” the lies came easily now.

jimin had dyed his hair countless times. the herbs worked particularly well when combined with the heat beneath a helmet.
by nightfall, they had been gathered as promised.

---

within nine moons, his hair was completely blonde once again.

it was long enough to be mistaken for a maiden, and jeongguk seemed to take pleasure in it, particularly at night.

he would turn to face jimin’s back, reaching his fingers into the strands of blonde. he developed a habit of silently fidgeting with his hair as he drifted off to sleep.

it was endearing, jimin admitted to himself.

he had begun to enjoy the nights that they spent together.

jimin knelt before the hearth and breathed upon the embers. jeongguk sat in bed, watching the coals glow. 

a thin flame caught, and it spread across the tender wood as jimin rose to his feet. 
he grabbed the hem of jeongguk’s tunic, peeling it from his skin. then, he pulled the quilt over his body.

jimin crossed the room and extinguished the candles until the hearth was the only light remaining.

the prince scooted to the side of the bed, making room for jimin lay beside him.
jeongguk usually fell asleep quickly after jimin had settled beside him, but tonight, he did not. 

jimin lay on his back, watching the orange glow move across the ceiling.

after several minutes of jeongguk lying awake, jimin turned to face him. 

“is something upon your mind, master?”

“jimin.”

his immediacy nearly startled him. “yes?”

“i need to speak to you.”

“are you troubled by a dream?”

“no.”

“a fear?”

jeongguk shook his head. “no, not that.”

“then what concerns you?”

a long silence followed before jeongguk spoke. 

“you have many scars upon your forearms.”

he had grown careless in concealing them. “toxic sap from harvesting hogweed and wilderness hazards, back when i was a merchant.”

his eyes narrowed. 

“or perhaps it was from the wolf attack that slaughtered your sheep?”

jimin’s breath slowed as he watched jeongguk toy with the corner of the quilt that wrapped around him. “whatever do you mean?” 

“i spoke to the maiden that hired you. she recalled that you were a merchant who sold wool.”

jimin opened his mouth to defend himself. “i assumed lèse-majesté, and had her locked away.”

“yes—“

he cut jimin off. “then, i asked the staff for records and documentation. they had none.” 

“i assure you, she had forgotten to take them. i have them available, if you would like.”

“you gave me suggestions for improving my footwork.“ jeongguk’s voice remained soft. 

jimin’s hand slowly inched beneath the quilt, clutching the outline of his dagger at his waist. 

“i have picked things up in my travels.”

“you carry a dagger on your waistband at all times,” jeongguk’s voice trembled.

the popping firewood was almost enough to drown out the sound of jeongguk’s heart hammering against his ribs.

“you were no ordinary servant,” jeongguk whispered, the light of flames flickering against his cheeks.

jimin was quick to roll over onto the prince, pinning him against the mattress.

jeongguk gasped before one gloved hand muffled his mouth. 

the other hand drew the dagger from his waistline for the first time since entering the kingdom, shedding the chrysalis of a servant right before jeongguk’s eyes.

“i could kill you with the flick of my wrist, jeongguk,” jimin whispered lowly, leaning into his ear as he stilled like prey.

the dagger pressed deeper as jeongguk’s bare chest rose and fell against jimin’s own tunic. “i need to kill you.”

jeongguk's trembling hand slowly reached toward jimin’s wrist, not to fight nor to try his chances at pushing him away.

he just brushed his fingers against jimin’s wrist. the fingers curled gently around his wrist.

jeongguk was finally compliant, and this version of him was far more suiting.

jimin wanted to make it painless. 

like a perfect little lamb waiting to be sacrificed by the priest, pouring all of his trust into jimin as he awaited his slaughter.
but he couldn’t bring himself to puncture him.

perhaps he could at least spare jeongguk the mercy of explaining himself first, before his inevitable demise. 

“can i trust that you will stay silent?”

jeongguk nodded his head, the pointed dagger slicing a soft line across his throat.

blood beaded at the line as jimin withdrew his hand, heart clenching at the sight.

he had soiled the prince’s soft, honeyed skin, and jimin questioned whether he had ever shed blood before. 

jeongguk was the enemy. 

“speak without permission. i dare you,” jimin started, effortlessly exerting his steel under the tip of jeongguk’s chin, tilting his head to the side to inspect his sharp mandible.

“i’ve memorized your palace. i know just how to slip past your guards.”

“i’m not scared of you,” jeongguk whispered, voice soft and quivering, “you won’t hurt your master.”

“i serve not one man but my liege.”

“name your kingdom,” jeongguk muttered, “i’ll have it raided and destroyed.”

“my dagger shall find a home deep within your windpipe before the stain of treason touches my family name.”

jeongguk nearly whined, stilled by the blade. “please, jimin, what can i do to make you stay?” 

“succumb to your blood loss, then i shall patrol your kingdom after ensuring its annexation.”

the hand around jimin’s wrist tightens ever so slightly, the corner of jeongguk’s lips turning upwards despite the dagger between them.

“if this is my last sight, i believe that i could make my peace with it.” jeongguk studied his hardened expression. “you’re quite kind for a knight.”

“you’re a fucking brat, and you know that, right?” strands of hair slipped loose from behind his jimin’s ears, falling upon jeongguk’s face. 

he didn’t move to brush them away, eyes bright and feverish in the firelight. for a treacherous instant, his eyes fell to jeongguk’s divided lips and the shallow breaths trembling between them.

his jaw tightened. “you’re pathetic. i’ve hated you since the moment that you had first called me pretty.” 

jeongguk whined beneath him, beginning to squirm underneath his intense gaze. 

had jeongguk’s heart been racing because a sick part of him relished in this?

jimin withdrew his dagger and sat back, just enough to let jeongguk breathe without allowing him to forget who held the upper hand. 

he knew better than to move.

“were your teachings in leadership insufficient?” 

a gloved hand traveled slowly up jeongguk’s exposed trachea, “must you be desecrated in order to understand basic chivalry?” 

two fingers shoved past his lips, and jeongguk choked around the intrusion. his eyes squeezed shut, a tear slipping down his temple. 

“is this what you wanted all along?” he pushed his fingers further, pressing down on his tongue. “the fingers of a soldier in your mouth?” 

jeongguk bucked his hips up onto jimin’s weight, whining and gagging around the cloth.

“tell me, jeongguk, have you committed sodomy?” jimin pulled his fingers away, a string of saliva following. 

it would have been a beautiful thing to choke this prince to death.

jeongguk gasped out, throwing his head back upon the fluffed pillows. “never.”

“shall i stain your name?”

“please,” his pretty eyes glided across jimin’s face, 

“offering your body will bring you no mercy.” 

“then i’ll spend eternity repenting in hell.” 

fuck it.

jimin shoved the dagger from the bed with his knee. it struck the wooden floor with a sharp clatter, the sound echoing throughout the large room.

he shifted his weight beneath him, knee settling between jeongguk’s thighs. 

jimin caught his jaw firmly, fingers pressing along the hinge until his mouth parted under pressure. jimin felt the drag of jeongguk’s teeth against his cheek as the grip left him still. 

any remnants of jeongguk’s superiority melted away as jimin leaned forward, spitting into jeongguk’s mouth. his adam’s apple bobbed as he drank it, awaiting whatever jimin was willing to give to him.

jimin lowered his head, the space between them narrowing. he caught jeongguk’s lower lip between his teeth, slowly biting down on the sensitive flesh.

jeongguk grew harder under jimin’s knee, unable to stop himself from bucking up.

within seconds, jeongguk’s lips are against his own. they are soft and untainted, just as a prince should be. 

a weak mewl rose from jeongguk’s throat, feverishly kissing as he shut his eyes tightly, grabbing ahold of jimin’s biceps. 

their teeth clicked together, jeongguk licking inside of his mouth like it wasn’t enough, trying to go deeper down his throat. 

to think that a princess would never have the pleasure of stealing his first kiss, but rather a knight from an enemy kingdom, right before the end of his life.

jimin broke the kiss, a string of saliva binding them together as he leaned back.

his mouth curved into a slow grin. “undress me.”

jeongguk’s dazed eyes travelled down jimin’s tunic. his breath was heavy, bare chest rising and falling. “i don’t know how.” 

“you were clever enough to discover my identity,” jimin leaned back in ease, “so figure it out.” 

hands reached for the collar with caution, his fingers brushing the fabric uncertainly. 
he tugged at it twice, then stopped, looking up at jimin with a pleading, lost expression.

jeongguk had never undressed himself, let alone anyone else. that was what servants were for. 

jimin was happy to put him in such a position, silently amused as the prince eventually abandoned the collar, moving lower. his fingers caught the bottom edge of the shirt, bunching the fabric awkwardly in both fists. 

with determination, he pulled upward with shaky hands. jimin lifted his arms to make it easier for him.

for a fleeting moment, jeongguk held the fabric, looking as though it were the most degrading breach of royal etiquette that he had ever done. 

he searched jimin’s face for some praise, as if he deserved a reward for figuring out how to remove a simple tunic. 

instead, jimin leaned across the bed and scanned the room, gaze falling on the nightstand. he found the fine ceramic oil lamp and a small bottle beside it. 

jimin swiped the oil off the stand, tossing it onto the mattress and ripping the quilt away that separated him from jimin. 

he slotted himself between the prince’s thighs, jeongguk throwing the material across the room in favor of wrapping his hands around jimin’s back.

he pressed his nose to jeongguk’s collarbone. the musk of sweat invaded jimin’s senses.

“your guards will find my bite marks all over your body, down to your thighs.” jimin dipped his tongue down, the salty flavor of making him dizzy. 

he licked a stripe down to his flushed chest, nibbling along the smooth skin until he reached his pecs.

jimin swiped his tongue across the bud of his nipple, and jeongguk flailed to grip the sheets, strangled noises falling from his lips.
how sweet.

jimin bit down lightly, and jeongguk nearly choked at the sensation, thighs quivering and jerking uselessly into the air. 

a hand resting below his neck kept the prince in place, but he didn’t dare to stop jimin while he sunk his teeth into the skin of his abdomen. his muscles tensed beneath him, creating a path of red hues. 

jimin hooked his fingers around jeongguk’s undergarments, pulling them down in a brisk movement.

his erection sprang free, dribbling precum as jimin pulls the undergarments down his thighs, then past his ankles.

“what would your future betrothed think of this?” jimin purred, tightly grasping at his thighs to spread him apart.

“i don’t care to think about a wife,” jeongguk stuttered, knitting his brows together, “i just want to think about you.”

jimin drew in a sharp breath, ignoring his fluttering heart in favor of pressing his gloved hand to jeongguk’s lips. 

“take it off with your teeth.”

jeongguk obeys, teeth catching on the fabric. jimin pulls his hand away before yanking the glove away from his mouth.

he peeled off the glove from his other hand, bunching them together before shoving them back into jeongguk’s mouth.

“we mustn’t alert the guards.”

the sight of jeongguk’s mouth stuffed with his own dirty gloves has his cock twitching in his linens.

“this shouldn’t be a problem for you, seeing as you love to spit on gloves.”

jeongguk’s lips curled around the fabric, allowing jimin’s hands to trail back down his heaving body, resting right below his stomach.

jimin popped the cork to the bottle as jeongguk relaxed back against his pillow. jimin turned the glass, pouring the oil onto his skin, watching it dribble down his balls and around his rim. 

the oil reflects the fire light, the prince’s skin glimmering in all of its glory.  

jimin couldn’t help but give his balls a gentle squeeze, earning a muffled whine as blood rushed to jeongguk’s face. 

“relax for me.”

he closed his eyes as jimin gathered oil onto one finger, the other wrapping around the base of jeongguk’s cock. 

he lowered the lubricated hand, slowly rubbing circles around his rim with a finger.  
his hard tip twitched from the feeling of jimin slipping inside, slowly pushing past his rim.
jimin scanned him carefully, looking for any signs of discomfort.

not that he should particularly care.

jimin slid in another finger, watching it sink in before he began to thrust the two digits inside of him, rubbing along the walls. 

he curled his fingers, memorizing every inch of jeongguk as he had the corridors of his castle, invading him, claiming him as new territory.

his dick twitched under jimin’s palm as he curled his fingers upwards. jeongguk’s back arched, gasping around the cloth so hard that he gagged. 

“this spot feels nice, doesn’t it?” 

heat pooled in jimin’s own gut, feeling his own cock tighten in his pants as he continued to press against that same spot. 

“eager, aren’t we?” jimin presses a third finger to his entrance.

it pushes in, and jeongguk’s fingertips dig into the sheets from the new intrusion.

jimin begins to thrust slowly, his own breathing growing ragged as he imagines it to be his own cock, dark gaze glazed over with lust.

jeongguk’s nipples were puffy from being bitten, the red bites ripening into purple bruises across his torso. 

he looked unduly pretty, splayed out on the mattress, messy locks of dark hair stuck to his skin. 

when jimin’s gaze finally travels to his cut throat, a feeling rises within him.

the same feeling that he got from kneeling before his liege.

a feeling of duty, to protect. 

he withdrew his fingers, jeongguk whining as he peeled away from him, pulling his trousers down hastily and untying the braies that hung from his hips. he sighed in relief as the garments hit the wooden floor, right atop of his dagger.

jimin’s hands curl around jeongguk’s thighs, hoisting them around his shoulders.

he gives his cock a couple of pumps out of habit, despite his full erection. then, he nudges his head against jeongguk’s rim, sucking in a sharp breath in pleasure.

“any thoughts left in that head of yours?”

jeongguk shakes his head, reaching for jimin with hesitance, hands tangling into his long locks of hair.

he pushed all the way in, watching another tear slip from jeongguk’s glossy eyes as jimin’s hips met the expanse of his ass.

what a pretty crier.

jimin cursed under his breath, face falling against jeongguk’s jugular as he rolled his hips, hearing another muffled moan.

jeongguk gasped as jimin moved his hips, deep and slow, allowing him to adjust to the feeling. 

jimin’s hands moved down to stabilize jeongguk’s hips as he unsheathed, slowly thrusting back into him.

“you fucking love this, don’t you?” jimin panted against his ear, “i should’ve made you shut up and take it from the day that i met you.” 

jeongguk dug his nails into his back as jimin snapped his hips back, immediately slipping back into him. each time, he nudged against jeongguk’s prostate, soft whimpers falling from around the gloves.

the prince tilted his hips up to meet jimin’s thrusts, reaching deeper into him. 

he picked up his pace, slamming into jeongguk, rocking the large mattress back and forth.

“i’ll fuck the brat out of you,” jimin rasps, “your body will belong to me. even whilst you rot in hell.” 

the cloth wasn’t enough to muffle the moan that left jeongguk’s mouth. 

jimin peeled his head from jeongguk’s neck, harshly striking him across the face. 

“be quiet.”

the slap echoed throughout the room, and jeongguk bit down hard, eyes losing focus from pleasure.

jimin had to stifle his own moan, heartbeat speeding up as he continued his thrust, his abdomen hitting against jeongguk’s weeping dick.

“you like that, don’t you?” his hand slid to cup his face, soothing the stinging red mark as pleasure built with each relentless thrust, “getting struck by your own servant?” 

more tears slipped from jeongguk’s waterline, the head of jimin’s cock sliding against his prostate. 

“shall you call the guards to seize me?” he mocked.

jeongguk was crying, blabbering nonsense behind the gloves, digging his nails into jimin’s skin. he folded himself further, bringing jimin closer as jimin jerked into him harder.

he relished the tears. 

“i’m close.”

jimin tore the gloves from jeongguk’s mouth and replaced them with his lips, kissing him sloppily to drown out the noises. 

he took jeongguk’s cock into his fist, giving it a couple of strokes, feeling him writhe beneath him. 

their bodies were hot and sticky as they lost rhythm, jimin’s hips stuttering as he groaned into his mouth.

“it’s, its too much—“ jeongguk whined, “it feels so good.”

the whine goes straight to jimin’s cock, “are you close?”

“i— i don’t know,” right. 

the prince had never committed sodomy.

but judging by the way that he bucked his hips into jimin’s fist and the goosebumps adorning his skin, he was close.

jimin kissed him harder, a mix of their spit threatening to spill from the corner of jeongguk’s mouth. 

jimin’s tongue glided across his teeth as jeongguk swallowed greedily. 

he pulled back. “trust me, jeongguk. i’ll take care of you. just keep quiet.”

jeongguk nodded feverishly, eyes fluttering shut as jimin rolled his hips again, hitting his sweet spot. 

just as his mouth opened, jimin was quick to drink up the noise with his tongue.

“i told you to be quiet,” jimin warned, pounding at his prostate cruelly as he slid a thumb over jeongguk’s cock. 

“‘m sorry,” jeongguk’s face was flushed as he let out another pathetic moan, “it feels so good.”

jimin slapped him across his face again, and his back arched up, toes curling around jimin’s back.

hot spurts of cum landed between their abdomens, quick to be rubbed in between their skin as jimin continued to fuck him.

jimin grabbed at his face, forcing his mouth back into jeongguk’s own to silence the both of them.

the prince shook as jimin licked into his mouth, furrowed brows pressed together as jimin finally came as well, hips convulsing before finally filling him up. 

their lips parted to catch their breath, panting against each other’s faces as they rode out their orgasms.

after a moment, jimin pulls away, peeling jeongguk’s thighs from his shoulders as he watches the cum drip from jeongguk’s hole, practically entranced.

it had been so long since he had done that. how would he clean the prince up?

well, he supposed that he shouldn’t.

jimin blinked, soberness washing over him as he recalled the situation.

how could he have forgotten, even for an instant?

he could not betray his kingdom, nor his king. 

but the prince trembled, body limp and ruined, staring up at the unlit chandelier. 

and perhaps this was another form of devotion.

jimin slowly rose from the bed, fetching his undergarments and trousers, shakily stepping into them. 

he threw his tunic over his head, not bothering to smooth out the wrinkles before taking the dagger into his fist. 

jeongguk’s breath soon slowed, blending with the crackle of the hearth’s fire.

his heart pounded as though he were a young squire again, standing in the training yard with a sword too heavy for his trembling hands, waiting for his master to command him to plunge the blade into his first thief. 

jeongguk was no thief.

and he couldn’t bring himself to kill the man, even as he lay defiled and violated, his entire body practically a painting of their sinful acts.

hesitation was weakness; a knight who hesitated could never protect his liege. 

he could flee now. after all, jeongguk had not yet found out which kingdom jimin had resided in. he could slip through the balcony doors and then tell his liege everything he had learned.

jeongguk would be slaughtered by another knight.

the thought made his stomach churn.

he turned on his heel instead, slipping his dagger back into his waistband. “i will leave you here.” 

his bare feet carried him toward the balcony, one soft step at a time. 

“death would be a kinder fate.” 

jimin’s breath hitched, refusing to turn back around. jeongguk’s face would make him unbearably weak.

so jimin kept his eyes glued to the door.

“I will see to it that a skilled soldier kills you. it will be a quick and painless death,” his voice came out steadier than he felt.

the soldier in his brain told him to flee, yet he stayed put, even as the mattress shifted, and a set of feet hit the floor.

jeongguk approached from behind, slowly, with the quilt dragging behind him and pooling around his ankles. 

jimin felt no need to protect himself, remaining perfectly still as he approached from behind, the untouched steel sitting against his abdomen. 

“whatever it is that you desire,” he murmured, “you can have it here, too, with me.”

jimin had not a clue what he desired.

desire was an unimportant indulgence. he had wanted victory because his liege wanted victory. he had wanted peace because his kingdom needed peace. he had wanted honor because his training taught him to want honor. 

“if it is my death that you are longing for, you can have it. just don’t let it come by another’s hand.” 

“i do not want your death,” the words escaped his mouth.

perhaps one of the few true words that he had ever spoken to jeongguk. 

“then what is it that you wish for?” 

“my liege binds me. the crown binds you.”

jeongguk pressed his cheek against his back, and jimin winced. he leaned into him as though he were his protector. he wished to be. 

“i am bound by nothing,” jeongguk whispered.

jimin clenched his jaw. “then flee the kingdom before its fall. never return. avoid your own death.”

“i have not a clue how to escape.”

“then learn. it shall take several moons for me to return to my kingdom.”

“don’t go where i cannot follow.”

jimin’s stomach dropped, turning to face the prince.

the quilt was clutched tightly against jeongguk’s chest, eyes boring into him, bright with unspilt tears.

jimin wanted nothing more than to protect him— to lead him to safety.

jeongguk looked at him the way his mother looked at his father before a risky mission.

“abandon your duty and honor. let us flee to a nearby kingdom, together.”

jimin’s heart pounded, swallowing thickly.

“you know my castle by heart, right? show me how to slip away and never return.”

jeongguk continued, “we could become lowborns. i will learn to button my shirts and bake my own bread.”

“we can live off of villager earnings, and eat at an unsteady, wooden table together. i will pledge my devotion to you until we perish of disease and old age, rather than a blade.”

jimin held his breath, voice dry as the words escaped from his chest. 

“we will leave at sunrise.” 

Notes:

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@lambkook