Chapter Text
When he arrived at his quarters and rinsed his face, the water left a cold trail on the wounded skin of his arms. Painfully stained tracks of blood and blackish bruises intertwined between old wounds that had not yet healed.
Jungkook took desperate gasps of air. His eyes felt swollen from all the crying. The air felt obfuscated and he struggled to breathe properly.
Kings did not cry . Yet there he was, unable to stop the treacherous tears that left crystalline lines on his cheeks.
It hurt. His arms and his pride. He had promised himself a million times not to whine and to take his punishments properly, but, still, a million times he had failed.
He couldn't help it. He wanted to stop, to remain firm and undisturbed. Ceasing his vulnerability and sensitivity would make it all so much easier, but he didn't know how to gather the courage.
It pained him when Koslov disciplined him, but he was more embarrassed by his furtive desire to run into the safe arms of his partners when it happened, to accuse the wretched man, and to receive as much sympathy as they could give him.
He could no longer yield to such temptations. His thirst for comfort was great, but overcome by his determination to prosper, to make his hyungs proud. He wanted to please them so badly, he was willing to take as much correction and punishment as necessary.
He knew it was his duty to demand more of himself. So far, he had been disciplined almost daily. Koslov often told him that his problem was that he could not control his childish and spoiled impulses. Jungkook understood that if a man so educated and so devoted to his teaching company told him that, it was because it was definitely true.
The prince could not wait to reach the proper maturity of a monarch. Because monarchs were not late, monarchs memorised properly, monarchs did their homework.
And monarchs definitely did not earn such shameful discipline.
Carefully stripping off his shirt, Jungkook rummaged through the drawers for the soft cloths he often wrapped around his arms as bandages. His maids always washed them and folded them carefully in his chest of drawers.
The prince rinsed his arms again before bandaging them. Groaning as the water turned orange from the droplets of blood that some of his wounds were shedding. Gently, he adjusted the cloths and sat down at his desk.
He wanted to visit Taehyung —after such a long time without seeing him— but his eyes were still swollen and red. A few tears still managed to sneak over his eyelashes. Taehyung was always attentive to his afflictions, and would definitely question him about it. And what would he say then that were not lies? His courtier was already distressed enough with worries of his own without causing him further concern with blatant dishonesty.
Besides, unfortunately, he still had homework to attend to. After all, Koslov had threatened to make him write a thousand lines, and a thousand lines he had to write.
"I must behave with the dignity of a monarch and keep my promises. I will never be late again."
The sentence was damned long, and it only made him feel even more stupid.
Grumbling, he picked up the quill with a trembling, aching hand and began. His handwriting was less than flawed and exposed all of his pain.
The ink smudged and left a mess of black mist, which, coupled with the treacherous tears running down his nose, only made everything worse.
"Damn you." He said, his voice bitter and tearful. "Why do you have to cry so much? Kings do not cry."
No. Kings didn't cry. Seokjin did not cry. His tyrannical progenitor had never cried either, and the gods knew he had more than one reason for it. Why did he have to be so bloody sensitive?
"Damn you. Damn you." He mumbled. "Stop crying."
But he didn't stop crying, the tears fell one after another on his parchment, ignorant to his wishes. Jungkook felt a surge of anger. He crumpled the paper and threw it angrily to the ground. Sylvester, his rabbit, bolted at the sight of such an outburst and hid under the bed.
"Stupid duties." He groaned, tearing another of his sheets. "Stupid arms. Stupid me. I'm so stupid. Stupid. Stupid."
He kicked the furniture and the books and inkwell toppled onto the floor, but Jungkook didn't care anymore. Neither that, nor the new nascent pain in his leg from kicking so hard.
"Damn it, you're so stupid!"
"Majesty?" Jungkook turned to the new voice, hurriedly wiping his eyes. His maid peeked through the door, cautious and fearful. "I have knocked on the door, but… is his grace well?"
The prince turned away. Angry when it became clear that the woman had seen his tearful face. And all the disaster he had made.
"I have not called for you." He cut her off, voice congested. His asperity was as much a surprise to him as it was to his handmaiden. The melody of his voice, always childish and soft, became husky and morose. The prince had always been so gentle with the servants that the new treatment only aroused concern in the woman's eyes. " Do not open the door again unless I ask you to, do you hear me?"
Instead of answering, the maid's attention was diverted, and the prince had to hide his bruised skin as the bandages slipped off one of his arms.
"My lord is injured." Before Jungkook had a chance to voice his displeasure, the maiden approached him. "Please let me help you."
Without another word, she adjusted the bandage with deft hands and hid them under his silk sleeves. She manoeuvred gently, but the prince hardly noticed the difference. Every touch felt as rough as the feel of sand.
The woman raised her eyes to his. Her face was full of concern. She seemed about to say something else, but Jungkook stepped forward.
"You cannot mention this to anyone."
He had already recited that same warning to that same maiden some time ago, though not so harshly. Jungkook was feeling so desperately sad and despondent that gentleness —or the lack of it— was the least of his worries.
"Please don't worry." She replied, in a gentle voice. "I'll put everything in order in a moment, see? If you give me a while, I will make your chamber as impeccable as ever."
"I'm not talking about the disaster." He replied, sniffling. "I'm talking about this. About what you just saw. No one can know about this, do you hear me?"
For a second, the woman's eyes bugged out. Clearly not content with the request.
"You're being hurt," She ventured.
"That does not concern you."
"You can stop this, my lord... if you tell the king."
"Your highness."
Blinking, the woman raised confused eyes to his.
"It is your highness." He replied, bitterly, not bothering to turn his head. "Your highness, not my lord. It's your highness. And I did not ask for your advice. Don't forget yourself."
"My prince." She insisted. "Let me at least bring you some ointment."
"And what would you need such a thing for?"
The new low tone knocking from the door made the prince freeze. A shiver ran down his spine as he became aware of the new intrusion. The anger he had felt so profuse only seconds ago disintegrated into fear.
Namjoon was the first to enter the threshold. Yoongi followed in his wake. Both coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of the mess in his chamber.
"What, by all the gods, has happened here?"
"My lords." The maid hastened to bow her head in a deep curtsy. She gave the prince a quick glance that could only exhibit her most honest apologies for having been so imprudent. Jungkook felt an uncontrollable urge to curse the woman's loose tongue.
"Are you crying?" Namjoon asked, but was quickly dissuaded by the obviousness of the answer. His passing was urgent. His guardian reached him so quickly that Jungkook could barely turn around to hide his pathetic crying face. "Jungkook, tell me what happened."
"It's nothing." He assured, despite how strangled his voice sounded. "I just fell over, that's all."
"How is this nothing? Your face is swollen from crying."
"I tripped, hyung. I hurt myself, that's w-why I have cried."
"Where?" urged the sorcerer. "Show me."
Jungkook gulped. He slowly bent down to unlace his right boot so that he could bare his leg. It wasn't entirely untrue that he had hurt himself kicking the furniture during his tantrum. He hoped that the wound he found there would be enough to deter his guards.
However, when the skin was uncovered, all he saw there was a slight redness. Apparently it was not enough to defend him, because Yoongi, shaking his head, turned to the maid.
"Tell us what happened." He said to her.
It was true that the sorcerer was a model of serenity and stillness, but at that moment he looked so upset that the maiden looked like a frightened prey under his stern gaze.
Jungkook looked at her nervously. Just then he could see her clearly; young and fearful. The prince recognised the fear in her hazel eyes. Naturally disturbed at the thought of lying to his lord; she knew what it meant. An offence of such magnitude could cost her a severe penance.
"My lord..."
"S-she did not-"
"Let her answer." Cut off the wizard, without looking away. "Well? Why is the prince crying?"
"He-" She stammered. The glare of tears filled her eyes. She seemed to be debating over her answer. "My lord, the prince-I came in here because I heard a blow, so I thought his highness had hurt himself and I have offered him the medicine. I know nothing else, my lord, I swear to you."
Yoongi's snowy eyes met those of the young maiden. The girl had burst into tears as if she feared the sorcerer could read her mind. Jungkook gritted his teeth, could he reprimand her later for her poor lying skills?
"Is that true, Jungkook?" Namjoon asked.
Jungkook was quick to nod.
"Yes, hyung."
"Fine. Girl, please leave us alone. "Yoongi indicated. Hastily, the maid bowed and closed the door on her way out.
Jungkook tried to turn around when Namjoon's piercing eyes rose to his, but his guardian caught his chin and forced him to look up.
"H-Hyung..."
"Now, it is clear that your maid has not seen anything, but we know you are not crying because of what she said. He assured. "We've seen you fall out of trees and scrape your knees to the bone and you've never shed a tear. Are you going to tell me that a stumble made you cry like that?"
"Did you do this, Jungkook?" the wizard asked that time, pointing to the mess of books and ink on the floor.
For the first time, the prince felt embarrassed. He ducked his eyes and interlaced his fingers anxiously.
"Jungkook?" he insisted.
"Yes, hyung."
"What was that for?"
"I got upset, hyung."
"What made you upset, Jungkook?"
With his eyes on the ground, he said:
" I will clean it up. You don't have to worry, I promise. "
"That is not what I want to know." Yoongi said; as always, his voice was kept at a low volume, but it was stern enough to make him feel vulnerable "Don't evade my question, Koo. Tell me what has upset you enough that you thought doing this was going to give you some relief."
The question brought new tears to his eyes. For it revealed to him the bitter answers he had wanted so much to avoid. He wept for the pain in his arms, and for not being able to confess it, but the bitterness of knowing himself so stupid and so ungrateful weighed more heavily on him, for at that moment there was nothing he wanted more than to wrap himself in the gentle arms of his carers and return to the home they had left behind.
"I-if I tell you..." He cried, his throat tight. "If I tell you'll be disappointed in me."
Namjoon blinked, incredulous.
"Jungkook, we could never." He asserted. The man was growing increasingly impatient. Having no understanding of his cub's anxieties was putting him in a bad temper. The air was beginning to feel heavy and the sound of his blood pumping in his ears grew louder. He had an urge to shake the poor young prince to get the information from his quivering lips.
But the boy was distressed enough and had no need of his anger; so, patiently, he took the prince's cheeks where his tears were running, and squeezed him gently. "Talk to me, my prince. Tell me what is troubling you and we can seek a solution."
Jungkook rubbed his eyes, still hesitant to expose his emotions so openly. He did not, of course, distrust his guardians; but his concerns seemed so selfish that speaking them did not feel fair.
He would not say anything about Koslov; of that no one could convince him otherwise, but he was exhausted and felt terribly helpless; and about that he could do whine.
"I want to go home, hyung." He finally confessed. "I miss our cottage, our bunnies. I miss the garden, r-riding, and also the drawings in m-my room. I miss spending time with you."
Jungkook looked into their eyes. As if, through the snowy brown eyes, he expected to find an answer that would soothe his troubled heart. Namjoon did not disappoint him. His guardian bridged the distance between them and enveloped him in a firm, protective embrace.
“Oh, my cub..." He said, Jungkook felt the vibration in his throat. "Easy, do not cry anymore."
The prince drew in a shaky breath.
"I-I'm sorry."
Yoongi shook his head, the man wiped away his tears and offered him a gentle smile.
"Don't be. It's been a tough season, hasn't it? There's a lot of new things to do and learn."
"Yes, h-hyung."
"You must be so overwhelmed. My little prince. Breathe now, hyung has you."
He didn't say another word, and he didn't need to either. Namjoon backed up until his thighs met the desk chair. He sat down and let the grieving prince climb into his lap.
It had been a long time since he had been in such a position. It had been a long time since Namjoon had held him; always busy with more important matters than dealing with a whining prince.
"I want to go back." He repeated, salty tears running down his cheeks. He took his guardians' hands and squeezed, as if pleading. They both watched him silently. "Let's go back, please. I will behave myself. I'll be good; I'll be quiet and do anything you ask me to."
Namjoon let out a soft laugh.
"The gods are good."
The prince frowned at the false condescension.
"Hyung, I intend what I said."
"Surely you do, dear one, but we can't go back. I'm sorry." Namjoon replied, serene. "The king needs us."
"I want to go back." He repeated. So emotional that sudden rage grew like mist inside him. "I want my drawings... I want my bedroom. I-I want to go back."
"Jungkook." The man spoke, taking him by the chin. "Listen to me, beloved: this is your home. This is where you belong, we cannot-"
"Don't lie. We can." Replied the prince, before Lord Kim had a chance to voice his obvious dissatisfaction. "We can. We can go for a few days, just for a while, I can show Tae and Jiminie, General Hoseok and Sylvester. I just want to-”
"I said no." Namjoon spoke firmly and sternly. He stopped rocking him and rubbing his back. Jungkook froze in his lap. "You have duties now, Jungkook. You are the heir to the throne. I don't have to repeat your position to you."
No, he didn't have to; everyone there already took care to remind him just that.
His face must have been a tragic poem, because Yoongi reached over to wipe his cheeks and said, in his sweet, compassionate voice:
"Ah, my sweet child. It is painful to think of what we have left behind. Those were good days when it was just the three of us and a warm fireplace, weren't they?"
Still tearful, Jungkook nodded his head. Yoongi always had an easy talent for making him emotional.
"Y-Yes, hyung."
" However, we are still here, are we not?" He said. "The three of us. And a lot more fireplaces."
"Y-Yes, but I don't want those f-fireplaces." He replied, more bitterly than he would have anticipated. "E-everything feels different. Even if we're together."
"Of course it's different, we've left so much behind." Yoongi said. "It was a difficult decision, but you've been brave to agree to come back. It may be hard for you to remember, my sweet prince, but this has always been your home. Here are all the people who love you and long to serve you."
Jungkook sniffled.
"And more duties, and respons... responsa..."
"Yes, also more responsibilities." He corrected, brushing back his unruly hair. "But we're here. And we'll always be here. We'll take care of you and help you with whatever you need."
"B-But." He said, as if he hadn't heard him. Aware of how childish he sounded, and yet not sane enough to care about it. "What I need right now i-is to get back to my home."
"No. What you need is to compose yourself." Namjoon replied, no longer so patiently. "And I don't want any more talk about it. I have already given my answer. We can't go back."
It would have been out of helplessness and his disturbed mood, but the prince made not the slightest effort to hide the scowl and defiant stance born of such an objection.
"You are not listening to me."
"I do. I am listening, but what you ask is still unnecessary. It's still unwise."
"You don't understand."
Frowning, Namjoon said:
"Jungkook, hear me clearly. That was our home as much as it was yours. Of course we miss it, but now it's not appropriate for us to..."
"You don't miss anything." Replied the prince. "You and hyung traveled all the time. You spent weeks here in the castle. How could you miss a place you were barely in?" he muttered. "But I've been there all my life. That's my home. Not this. I don't like it and I don't want to be here anymore."
"That's enough."
But the prince did not stop. He clenched his hands into angry fists and repeated:
"I don't like it and I don't want to be here anymore!"
It was with a firm shake that Namjoon managed to shut his lips. Jungkook stood very still as he met his guardian's stern gaze.
"Are you done with this tantrum?" He said to him, his voice riddled with weariness. "I will not tolerate such spoiled behaviour as you have just displayed. You are a prince, we have taught you how to behave."
When Jungkook said nothing, frozen by the bitter treatment, Namjoon continued:
"This is the fate the gods decided for you." He said. "It is the destiny you carry in your veins. You have waited long enough to take your place on the throne, and the court is becoming more and more desperately insistent on it. We simply can't waste time turning back every time we feel like it."
"Namjoon..."
"No, Yoongi. There's enough talk about him already. What do you think they will say if they hear that the prince has more urgency to go back to an old cabin than to prepare to be the monarch he should?" He bellowed.
The silence that followed was severe, and the voice so harsh that the discomfort soon spread like thick mist. Jungkook said nothing, for he did not know what good could come of another complaint. He strained against his guardian's legs, suddenly feeling so ridiculous that he could only sit up. He had no more tears, but such inexplicably great rage that he could barely resist the temptation to stomp his feet out of there.
"I'll try to remember it." He said instead, his voice so strained that Namjoon himself felt no calmer. The older man let out a sigh, and reached out to take him by the hand:
"You must understand, it is our duty." Namjoon replied, softening his voice. "This is for your sake, and for the sake of our kingdom; Seokjin is our king, and our friend. We must serve him and help him when he needs us."
And I am the prince and your protégé. He meant. The claim vibrated in his exalted thoughts, but he was unwilling to show the power within his grasp. Instead, he adopted a false composure unbecoming of him, and said:
"Good." Namjoon gave him a sad look that he no longer saw, for he had already turned his face away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have duties to do."
[...]
In the throne room, the windows were gleaming and glittering against the pearlescent coating of the walls.
Seokjin sat on the throne. It towered majestically above the golden steel, lined with diamonds at its sides. Wrapped in his autumn cloak of brown leather and white velvet. He had a stern gesture, which emphasised the hard features of his face.
He watched the figure in front of him intently. Taehyung had said nothing as he passed through the doors of the halls and presented himself to His Majesty. Yoongi had escorted him to the doors, and then disappeared down the corridors without a word. And without explanation, the young courtier had stood before him, his head down and his posture submissive.
After a while, the monarch spoke:
"I thought I told you to stay in your bedroom."
"You did." He replied, so low that, had it not been for the echo that danced against the walls, Seokjin would not have heard him.
"So." He told him. His voice was hard, though not as hard as he would have liked. He had been sensitised by seeing the boy so despondent, but he still remained willing to be as stern as he had to be. "Unless you have something to say, I will ask you to return to where I have ordered you."
In response, Taehyung bent his knees and dropped to the ground. Still with his head bowed and his arms slack at his side. The monarch blinked at the meek act, barely resisting the urge to stand up to lift the boy off the ground.
"I have come to offer my apologies." He mused, his voice trembling with the threat of fresh sobs. Seokjin stood silently, observing the troubled boy.
It was certainly not the first time that the young courtier had bent down before him. Taehyung had a tender habit of doing so after making him angry over a particularly outrageous mischief. He would lie down on the floor quite naturally, and, from there, offer his most honest apologies.
Seokjin had never forced the creature to submit to his royalty, but the courtier did so willingly and without shame. It had become an intimate ritual between the two initiated by Taehyung himself. He still remembered how surprised and delighted he had been the first time Taehyung had fallen on his knees to offer him a string of tearful apologies. It had been many years ago, but the memory was still very much present in his mind.
"You don't have to do that, beloved," he had told him then, when the troubled boy had stilled his weeping.
"You are my king."
"Yes, in front of the members of the court, I am, but I am also your hyung. Do not feel forced to offer me such formalities when we are in intimacy, they are not necessary."
The gesture his young courtier gave him was perfectly charming. Taehyung frowned slightly and shook his head.
"You are my king." He repeated, that time more convinced." And you are also my hyung. I like you, because you offer me the comfort of your arms and you are good to me. But give me the satisfaction of serving you too. It's a pleasure when I do it for you, it's a token of all my respect and... and also of my affection."
It was tremendously significant because Seokjin knew the difficulty Taehyung had in submitting to his hierarchical position. The boy was easily seduced by his loose tongue and had often got him into trouble for being too rude —or honest— with high- lords who dared to belittle him.
Of course, it had never reached such severity as on the day of the young prince's presentation. Although Seokjin was accustomed to appeasing the boy's angry temper, this new action was beyond him. Taehyung could be very —terribly— honest with his tongue, but he had never been unleashed to attacks.
So, the monarch found himself torn between the rational part of his mind that demanded more severity, and the one that was moved by the boy's compliance. Seokjin wanted nothing more than to sit up and offer the clearly distressed boy a hug. Hopefully that would calm his troubled heart. Both of theirs.
But Taehyung wasn't finished. And neither was he. Things had to be cleared up, and Seokjin was not prepared to end the sudden meeting until he had done so.
So, in a calm voice, he asked:
"Why are you going to apologise?"
"Because I have put you and Kook in a bad position in front of the kingdom."
Seokjin nodded.
"Yes, you have. Your behaviour has been more than inappropriate, and will not be tolerated again, yes?"
"Yes, my king." He replied, his voice hoarse from all the crying the night before. "I am sorry."
"You understand then why I have disciplined you." He told him. The boy seemed to shrink even more. And Seokjin didn't feel much better when he saw him wipe away a fleeting tear with the back of his hand.
"I know you are angry with me." Taehyung replied. "I know I have disappointed you. I'm sorry I got you and Jungkook involved in this; I wish the consequences would fall on me alone. I would accept them without question."
"A nice dream." The monarch smiled, though without the eyes. "But it does not happen like that in here. It is not possible; everything we do may harm others. I'm sure you've noticed by now."
Sniffling, Taehyung nodded.
"However..." Seokjin continued. "What they said about you wasn't fair either. I only wish you had come to me so I could have defended you as honestly as you defended us. "Taehyung looked up, his eyes glazed over. Seokjin could not become more ignorant of such a heartbreaking sight and opened his arms.
Like an urgent invitation, the courtier rose and climbed the steps of the throne to cling to his king. When he arrived, he threw himself upon him and sat on his lap.
Seokjin had not realised how much the poor child needed his care until loud sobs broke through the frail body in his arms. He suddenly felt incredibly stupid for having deprived him of such care for so long. He clung to the trembling darling and planted a kiss on the top of his head.
"You are forgiven, beloved. Don't think about it anymore. We will figure it out, I promise."
Taehyung nodded vehemently, his eyes squeezed shut and strands of tears running freely down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, I-I'm so sorry."
"I know you do." He said, stroking his strands of hair. "You don't have to apologise any more. I know you have learned." After a while, and with a mournful sigh, he spoke again, "You don't deserve any of the treatment those ignorant people give you. You are none of the negative things they say."
With the following, he made sure Taehyung was looking him in the eye.
"You bear my family name. You are legitimised by a king." He told him. "Nothing they do or say will make you any less than what you are. You are the king's protégé. Don't forget that, Kim Taehyung."
In the silence that followed, the most honest warmth he had felt in the last few days burst forth from the depths of his heart; with a grateful gesture, he bent down to clasp his embrace with the monarch. He was no longer sheltered by the bitterness of remorse, but by the sweetness of forgiveness, led by the gentle hand of his king.
The most beautiful smile Seokjin had ever seen broke out on his face. The boy's turbulence subsided to an energetic mood, he returned in a second to his usual enthusiasm, and the tear-stains soon seemed out of place on his face.
"Yes, your grace." He said to him, his voice sharp with emotion. "I think I should go to Kookie now, I still owe him an apology, do I have your permission?"
"You do, if you manage to find him. Lately he seems more like a little mouse than a prince; always burying his nose in his study books. "Seokjin seized the moment, employing the tone he used to scold him for the most ordinary troubles. "You could learn something from him, Taehyung. You have neglected your studies lately. Don't think I haven't seen you lazing around with Jimin."
Taehyung frowned accusingly.
"I wish! Jimin does not slack off," he complained. "He spends his days nagging, repeating what he reads in those boring literature books. He hardly pays any attention to me."
"What do you suggest in the face of such disrespect?" the king joked, but Taehyung took his answer very seriously:
"He is not the only one. You and the hyungs are always busy, and Jungkook spends too much time in his classes," he complained. "Have you seen the look on his professor's face? It seems that even the funniest joke can't make him laugh."
"He's a very well-educated man, he's been teaching for a long time; we're lucky to have him to help the prince."
"Help him what? Forget how to smile?"
"No need to be impolite." Seokjin scolded, but Taehyung didn't miss the slight smile that crept onto his face.
Taehyung snorted.
"We need some time to enjoy ourselves." He said, squeezing his hands. "Can we please?"
"What would you like?"
"We can lie in the gardens; eat and drink our fill, tell stories and sing songs."
Seokjin laughed again, helped the boy to his feet and stood up.
"Not today, I'm afraid." He replied, to the boy's distressed face. "We have an urgent meeting that can't be postponed, but Jimin, Jungkook and you can enjoy each other's company. Something you can do to entertain each other. I can ask the kitchens to prepare peach pies for you, or nut cakes; I know you like those very much. "
"Oh..." Disappointment barely passed fleetingly through his eyes before it was overshadowed by the promise of desserts and an afternoon with his beloveds. "I think we could spend some time together."
Go, then." With a light pat on the back, Taehyung made his way. He gave the king one last smile before almost running off down the corridors.
Finding Jimin was not difficult. His companion used to spend his evenings in a secret hideaway that was neither secret nor a hideaway. A corner in an unfrequented hall, the one with large windows and plenty of light. The servants avoided it because it was so devoid of furniture. There wasn't much to clean in a place where there was only an abandoned piano and a black velvet armchair.
Jimin liked it, though. He had lined it with warm furs and blankets, a handful of books, and, often, bottles of sweet wine that he enjoyed accompanied only by his tranquillity. He could spend hours tucked in there, enjoying the liquor and good reading.
As was his noble custom, Taehyung avoided the formality of knocking on the door and stepped across the threshold without qualms. What he found was his partner, lying comfortably on the floor, dressed in a loose shirt of pearly threads. Jimin sat up at the sight of him, so surprised that he pulled the bottle from his mouth with a wet noise.
Letting out a whimper that Taehyung interpreted as a claim, he showered his cheek with kisses and squeezed his face.
"Troublesome little brat." He said to him, though from the sweetness of his voice it might as well have been flattery. Taehyung feigned a penitent expression, took him by both hands and planted an exaggerated kiss on his knuckles.
"Will you please forgive me if I appeal to you?" He said, though humour flooded his voice. Jimin shook his head.
"Not in a million years, you're such a torment." He scolded him. "How come you always end up getting into the most serious trouble? Do you know what a bad night I've had because of that?"
"Something entertaining had to happen in the castle for once."
"Don't get smart. How did you get sent to bed without visitors?"
"And no dinner." He complained, feeling sorry for himself. "I've been very hungry."
"Understandable that Yoongi-hyung brought you all the cuisine this morning?"
Taehyung nodded, smug.
"Good thing the matter is settled." He replied, with his mischievous grin. "What are you doing?"
"Reading. And drinking, though I've barely started. There is not much to do when you are grounded and Jungkook locked in his chamber."
Taehyung snorted.
"How long has he been in there?"
"Some time." He said, his voice suddenly opaque. "He's bent on studying everything he can."
"Is that so?
"Yes." He replied. Though he himself was not very convinced. The problem was that the prince had not left his chambers all day. His food had been brought to his chamber, because he had claimed to be so busy with his royal duties that he could not afford to neglect them.
Jimin, however, who was as clever as he was thorough in his thinking, had not bought the story. He knew that the prince was driven by anguish and not by duty. He had seen Namjoon and Yoongi leaving their chambers, engaged in an argument he could scarcely understand. He had also heard the brazen murmurings of the servants about the prince's weeping state. And he did not allow himself to be so indulgent about it.
"It is not your place to talk like that." He had told them, firm and cold-eyed. "If I ever hear you talk about things that don't concern you again, I'll have you put to work in the stables."
That threat had succeeded. The frightened girls bowed so deeply that Jimin feared they were going to fall. After an unnecessarily long string of apologies, they left the halls, and Jimin did not hear such rumours again all day.
"We should visit him." Taehyung stated, oblivious to his train of thought. Jimin nodded slightly; this could certainly be a good opportunity to look into the matter further.
With a nod, and a look of self-sacrificing determination, Jimin took him by the arm and walked out of the room with firm steps.
"And we will do just that." He affirmed. Taehyung scampered in his wake, smiling at the sudden determination. They traversed the corridors faster than expected. And when they alighted at the prince's doors, it took only three knocks for a trembling voice to answer from within.
"I said I have no appetite."
"Not even if it is the humble company of your courtiers?" Taehyung joked, speaking through the hole in the door.
With that, the prince's surprise was practically perceptible through the wood. Jimin and Taehyung looked at each other as the anxious clattering of drawers opening and closing was present in the chamber, and, after a few unnecessarily long seconds, the boy's large eyes peered through the door.
They barely caught a glimpse of his downcast face before he wrapped anxious arms around them both. Taehyung blurted out a string of apologies for the worry, for the inconvenience, and for the possible bitterness of his night. Jungkook accepted them all willingly, let them both into the bedroom, and took them by the hand to lead them to the fireplace.
"What are you-? Tae, what are you doing here? I thought the king..."
"Don't worry about it anymore." He told him, his face reflecting the light from the fire. He leaned back to take his place on one of the couches, wrapping himself and the other two in the blanket that lay there. "We've come to meet you; we've been told you haven't left your chamber all day."
Jungkook looked down, fiddling with the blanket.
"I've been doing homework."
"And have you finished it?"
Jungkook hesitated. The truth was that he had only managed to write —very poorly— forty-three of the thousand lines due. He had given up when the pain became so unbearable that he couldn't even with all his care ignore it. He had spent the afternoon anxiously, thinking of a good excuse that might justify it, but he had come up with none.
"Yes." He replied instead.
Jimin's gaze was fixed on the young monarch. His eyes were red and swollen and tear stains were still visible at the corners of his eyes. An impulse demanded that he inquire further into the matter, but then it became clear to him that the prince might be seeking just the opposite. He did not want to embarrass him with unnecessary curiosity, so he opted for the second best option.
"We must do something."
"About what?" the young monarch asked.
"About our obvious boredom."
Jungkook nodded, however it only took one glance at the windows for his gaze to wane again. The cold was so noticeable that it even managed to seep through the walls of his chamber.
"We can't go out now." He said; for though he was enchanted by the beauty of the king's gardens, he was so intolerant of the cold that the idea of seeking entertainment outside was beyond him.
" Well..." Jimin said, his voice slack, he sat up and gave both boys a shrewd look before walking towards the door. He opened it just enough to whisper something to one of the servants and then went back inside. Taehyung and Jungkook looked at each other in confusion.
"What did you ask them for?"
"As the weather is terrible and we can do nothing outside, I'm afraid we have no choice but to warm ourselves in some other way." And, turning to the prince, he gave him his most mischievous smile and said, "So, beloved, you are going to grant us the honour of knowing what it feels like to get drunk with the future king."
With the new knowledge, Jimin could not hide his joy at the complicit smile the two of them gave him.