Chapter Text
The sun rose warm and heavy on the morning of the meeting, the sky cloudless and tinted yellow with the glow of early dawn. Birds sang high above the treetops, their bright feathers catching shards of golden sun as they danced in playful circles.
Hoseok wondered how pitiful he must look to the birds as he shivered in the shadows of the trees, his horse grumpy and capricious beneath him. It ambled on in obedient misery behind the King's horse, bucking and swinging its head in complaint.
Irritated by the marching stamp of knights alongside them, it threatened Hoseok's stability with every bad-tempered step forwards, the forest floor littered with fallen branches and dying leaves only exacerbating matters.
The path to the Witches' Assembly was hidden from the eyes of men by magic, the passage opened only on the rare occasions that the two warring sides agreed to meet. Hoseok had only ever heard stories of the secret path from favoured knights and comely nurses with tall tales to tell, and still the fairytales hadn't quite prepared him for its ghostliness.
The party approached a clearing where the fallen leaves withered in crumpled brown heaps and the grass was arid and yellow with decay. Everything was eerily silent; no scampering rabbits in the bushes, no cawing birds overhead. Toadstools lined the perimeter of the clearing, their white heads peeking out above the crushed grass like sinister little gravestones.
Hoseok had never seen a fairy ring before, and for that he was glad. Fairies were unpredictable, tricky little creatures, some might be kind and some may lure you into their traps. Fairies and men were not historic friends.
"This is a fairy ring!" he called out, but his horse followed along dutifully, the pack moving forwards in spite of the trap ahead.
The King turned to face him, his features twisted in an irritated frown.
"Idiot, it's safe to pass through when the passage is open," he explained, his face set in a hard glare.
Usually, his father delighted in his apparent stupidity, relishing every little mistake and dragging out the consequences for as long as he could. But today, no error could be overlooked, and his father latched onto every mishap with a new vengeance, one that feared for the future of his kingdom.
The pressure wasn't lost on the Crown Prince, and relaxing on his disgruntled horse was impossible, so he watched the dead grass for any sign of a beetle or a grasshopper. For a moment, he wondered if he could catch the glitter of tiny wings or a glimpse of clever feet jumping from toadstool to toadstool; the dance of mischievous little creatures circling their territory.
But the ring was silent and deadly still, the only sound the crunch of burnt grass beneath soldier's boots and the snorting of the horses. Even the air seemed trapped, heavy and too hot in the humidity of early spring.
Ahead of them was the passage, where the redwoods stood just a little bit taller, their roots tangled and intertwined. Between them was a narrow path, littered with dead leaves and fallen boughs. There was nothing but darkness along the path, the shadows of moving creatures and the caw of far away birds.
A cold gust rushed through him as he moved into the bleak mist of the trees. He swallowed, a nervous weight growing heavy in his stomach. Nothing felt right about this place, not the darting shadows surrounding them nor the blanket of forestry above, it was as if he'd stumbled into the barrier between the living and the dead, a haunted world full of decay and misery.
Was this what the world of witches was really like? Bleak and cold, damp with the chill of mist and empty of creatures living and thriving. From his balcony, he had seen the chimneys of witches' cottages billowing with smoke, and the tiny frames of dancing gold from candles within far away windows, and they'd seemed so close and reachable, as if he just had to lean in a little further and he would smell the freshly baked pies.
He'd never imagined that their worlds were divided by the secrecy and horror of a fairy ring.
Warm air drifted from the other end of the tunnel, a light emerging from somewhere that he could not yet see. The distant song of birds grew closer, the moving shapes began to leave them behind, and the pounding of his anxious heart began to slow.
Suddenly the trees were gone, and he found himself in another clearing, this one alive with wildflowers and shamrock grass. Here, the trees were alive, their leaves rustling in the pleasant breeze.
They carried on just a little further, until the trees cleared to a road, flowering weeds sprouting yellow and white between the cobblestones. Finally there was life, women in their colourful skirts dragging misbehaving children by the ear or balancing baskets heavy with produce on their shoulders. The men guided cattle and horses dragging carts, shouting commands and greetings with such frivolity that Hoseok wasn't sure that even they knew who they were speaking to.
Yet everyone ignored the party of soldiers in their plate armour, swords heavy at their sides. People rushed out of their way, wrapping their scarves and cloaks tighter around their faces to avoid being seen, turning their backs on the King as if he were just an ordinary man.
All the spirit of the rioting was gone, now the people just cowered away, scuttling down narrow alleyways and ducking behind their market stalls, a silence descending over the streets as they passed through.
He studied the faces of the people, but no one would meet his eye. Jewelled hands covered the eyes of curious children and stern glares silenced their questions. It was odd to feel hated outside of his home, where his face was a powerless mystery. He wants nothing more than to run from the marketplace, to where he can hear the birds sing and people chatter as if he wasn't an enemy walking amongst them.
The silence followed them all the way to the Council's home - a palace of sorts built with pale cherry trees and domed with glittering turquoise glass. It was nestled in a little alcove of pine trees, the air heavy with their fresh scent. The humidity beneath their canopy was cloying and dense, even the bees seemed slowed to laziness by the heat as they bounced from snapdragons to petunias.
Blooming vines of beech and ivy twisted their way up its front, interrupted by bursts of colourful hollyhocks. Bees and butterflies flocked to their brilliant shades, their rumbling loud above the quiet of the alcove.
Archers stood guard at the grand oak entrance, drawing their weapons as the party approached. He marvelled at them for a moment, perfectly still and balanced to strike; their arms warmed gold by the sun and chiselled with such definition that they almost appeared to be made of marble.
One of the statues moved suddenly, relaxing his weapon as the King dismounted. Still, his fingers gripped the arrow tightly into the nocking point, even as he bowed respectfully.
"Your Majesty, the Queen is waiting," he said bluntly.
The King grunted, his face twisted in bitter hatred. "She is no Queen."
With help from a particularly kind faced soldier, Hosoek climbed down from his horse, relieved to be standing on solid ground. There was no time to appreciate the carpet softness of the moss beneath his feet before he was being led into the cherry tree building by the second archer.
Inside was just as magnificent, though quite unexpected, warm and glittering beneath the sunlight, streaming in through the glass ceiling. The room was circular, with hallways and staircases sprouting in all directions. Intricately painted tiles created mosaics the floor, spiralling down narrow passageways and into corners unseen. Their footsteps echoed around the space, overflowing with greenery and petals of wondrous colours.
The party was led down one such passage, where the halls were empty and eerily quiet, apart from their marched footsteps. The hallways darkened as they ventured further into the structure, disappearing down a tunnel where the bright glass light couldn't reach. There was a faint scent of earth in the candlelit passage, and with the briefest hint of fear Hoseok realised they were walking straight into the mountain.
Then suddenly, the world opened up again in another burst of brilliant light. The passage emerged into another circular room, where a huge oak table dominated the centre. Seated around the table were the stony faced dignitaries of the Witch Council, not royalty despite the titles that they gave themselves.
This was his first meeting with his Kingdom's greatest adversary, and a strange feeling of pride welled up in his chest, as if he were finally stepping up the plate of the Crown Prince. Still, this meeting wasn't about his pride or his ability to lead. Hoseok was here for one reason alone, and it had nothing to do with his future as a ruler.
"I see you've finally let your eldest son out of the shadows, and he's not nearly as awful as you promised," a woman complained, her voice lined with mirth and amusement.
His head snapped towards the woman seated at the head of the table, and she was just as beautiful as legend had promised.
She stood to greet them, tall and graceful, her dress as green as the forest floor as it cascaded glittering down her body. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders like satin, strands plaited with golden thread. She was pale, her eyes beaming in brilliant blue, her stare intense and threatening even as she smiled, warm and reassuring.
Hoseok met her eye, and was surprised to see her smiling sympathetically, as if she could see straight through his frown and his hard set jaw to the very core of who he was. It unsettled him, even as she indicated his place at the opposite end of the table.
He stumbled forwards like a foal on newborn legs, his kingly duties foreign to him. Still, he remembered to keep his back straight and his head held high, and he levelled her with a stare that could never compete with her own.
The King took the seat alongside him, and with a rustle of papers and shuffle of chairs, the meeting commenced.
"It's very kind of you to offer your hand in marriage to one of my sons, however we have our concerns,"
It surprised him to see her intense gaze fixed on him, head cocked to the side as she studied every atom of his being with such fierce interest. The King bristled alongside him, sitting up a little straighter in his stiff wooden chair, but Hoseok was not going to let the tiniest bit of power slip from between his fingers.
"And I am willing to hear those concerns,"
She smirked, and for a moment he wondered if he was being lead into a trap. He threw a sideways glance in the direction of their advisor to the witches, a tall man with a serious face and stern eyes. He simply nodded, and every ounce of anxiety left his chest in a heavy breath.
"Firstly, the safety and wellbeing of my children is of utmost importance to me. I need your word that our own soldiers and doctors will join them at the palace,"
"Depending on the number of soldiers," Hoseok replied. He knew nothing of these people or why they were so angry, but he wasn't a fool, nor would he turn his back on his own morals.
"A personal entourage, no more than four trained archers," she explained.
He caught the eye of the advisor, and he gave him a slight smile. The King, still uncomfortable in silence, tried to speak, his voice rough and strained with tobacco use. He barked and spluttered for a moment before his throat was clear enough to address the Queen.
"And how can we trust your soldiers?"
The Queen tilted her head, snake like and vicious, and Hoseok was filled with a regretful dread. He caught the advisor's wide eyed stare, suddenly terrified, and it seemed that the entire plan had fallen to pieces with just seven words spoken by a power hungry brute of a man.
She smiled, her teeth sharp. "Our soldiers are only concerned with protecting the Prince, so if you leave the Prince well alone, you will have nothing to fear,"
Hoseok wondered if he should be responsible for the safety of the witch Prince too, as his husband. Should it be mutual? Gosh, he had no idea if he would even like his new husband for anything other than his beauty, but the reassurance of his protection - however useless - wouldn't hurt, surely.
"We accept your request, and I will take it upon myself to protect the Prince," he said, silencing whatever vitriolic argument the King was ready with.
His head snapped to stare at his eldest son, mouth agape in rage, but Hoseok refused to look at him. He was the Crown Prince, and he was ready for royal duties after a lifetime in his family's shadow.
"Are there any other concerns?" he asked.
Suddenly she looked less confident, her face falling into a frown. “I need your honest word that should any of my sons refuse your offer, you do not force them,”
“On my honour,” he replied without hesitation.
Relief relaxed her features, and Hoseok realised with a sad sense of loneliness that what he saw clouding her face was motherly love. For the briefest of seconds, he remembered his own mother; her long blonde hair and her dark eyes sparkling like thousands of stars, and he missed her with a seizing feeling in his lungs.
At his side, his father stirred in rising fury, wheezing as the anger choked his lungs.
"And what if there is no marriage, what then, your Highness?"
Hoseok didn't appreciate the condescension. He had no plan for what to do if all of her sons refused to marry him, but he would die before he forced one of them. Maybe his father should have shown better care to teach him the rules of democracy and diplomacy, but whilst he was still naive and ignorant, his principles shall take precedent.
"Then we shall negotiate unity in another way, your Majesty," he replied, his eyes stern and brow knitted together.
The Witch Queen laughed, her smile brilliant and joyful. "And we are more than happy to do business with your son, he didn't inherent your aggression,"
The King turned his anger on her, his face whiskey red and veins bursting blue and pink across his swollen nose. His mouth opened and closed in search of rebuttal, but none came to his tongue before she spoke up again.
"Now that our concerns have been heard, it's time to make your choice,"
She clapped her hands, and a side door burst open, with it a cold breeze from the earthen tunnels. In marched four soldiers, clutching elaborate gold frames draped in black velvet cloths. They lined up against the far wall, standing to attention with stiff limbs.
The Queen rose to her feet, her movements elegant and graceful, like a swan taking to water. She beckoned Hoseok to join her before the line of paintings, her smile tender yet almost sad.
"My sons are my pride and joy," she explained quietly as he stood alongside her. She towered over him, her aura smelling faintly of pine trees and long forgotten lakes lost to the woodland, mystery and dense fog. "I only ask that you respect him and treat him with dignity,"
He wondered if his parents would struggle so much to give him away to marriage. His father was adamant that he was the only son worthy of such a low marriage, but should the roles be reversed, would he care? Would he care when the day came to sell Jimin or Taehyung?
Now was not the time to lament his neglectful, empty home life. He bowed to the Queen, and with his hand on his heart he replied: "on my honour, Your Majesty,"
She smiled, as if she were amused by Hoseok's display. He was honest in his reply, it was his duty as a husband to be attentive and caring, and even if he and his new partner could not find harmony, it was still his obligation to protect his groom.
She pulled the velvet cloth down from the first portrait, revealing a man so beautiful that Hoseok's breath was stolen for a moment. Just like his mother, he was pale with dark hair, his almond eyes brilliant like the black fire of opals. He smiled faintly in the painting, lips pink and naturally pouted.
"This is my eldest, Seokjin," she explained, her voice tender and soft. "He spends most of his time in the upper woodlands training and rescuing dragons, however he is particularly shrewd in democracy, good with words,"
He stared at those glittering eyes for a moment, absorbing the strange atmosphere of the painting. It was almost as if the man was in the room, stood silently right in front of him. He was beautiful, breathtaking in fact, but this man did not share the same energy as the man ducking through the sqaure beneath his balcony. This was not the man in the blue cape that he was searching for.
He nodded, and she revealed the man beneath the next cloth. "This is Yoongi, an excellent hunter and fighter, he's driven and passionate, but he's sweet at his core,"
This man looked nothing like his mother, blond hair obscuring his darkened feline eyes. He stared Hoseok down with an intimidating ferocity, mouth pink and lips parted, almost too small for his rounded face. Just like his older brother, his beauty was astounding and overwhelming, yet still he knew that this was not the man that he was looking for. He was too sugary, too delectable.
The Queen didn't wait for his instruction before pulling down the next cloth. This man's heart shaped face was innocent, eyes narrow and cobalt blue just like his mother's. He smiled, unlike his two brothers, toothy and happy, and Hoseok felt energy like water filling him.
"This is Namjoon, he prefers to be by the sea," she explained, her eyes fond as she stared at her son. "Social interaction, especially diplomacy, doesn't come naturally to him, but he's fiercely loyal and protective, and a keen protector of sea creatures,"
He stared at him for a moment longer, absorbing his stunning appearance. There was something stronger about him, his beauty more complex and less traditional than his two brothers. Thicker lips, dimples, sand brown hair, something about his friendliness seemed almost familiar. But still, it was too fluid to be the man that he was looking for.
The queen pulled down the final cloth, and an audible gasp left his throat. This was the man in the blue cape, a treacherous pull emanating from his portrait. He took a step closer and studied his beauty with mouth agape, at a loss for how one man could be so incredibly beautiful.
The youngest of the queen's sons stared back at him with big doe eyes, amber and fiery in their colour, filled with supernovas as they burst. His lips, thin and pouting, turned upwards at the corners in a perpetual smile, a soft, dimpled pink. Every single one of his features was too big for his honey-gold face, his hooked nose and his silver earrings dripping cerulean gems, and yet Hoseok had never seen a man so perfect, so astonishing.
"This is Jungkook," the Queen said softly, as if she could hear Hoseok's racing inner monologue. "He's a troublemaker, he's into everything that he can possibly be into, but his curiosity doesn't come with a lack of passion,"
This is his man in the blue cape, the charm so powerful that it drew him in, even across the square of protesters. The painting emitted an energy like volcanoes erupting and trees bursting from the soil with power enough to shake the ground for miles.
"Him," he stammers, unsure what to say to confirm his choice. Jungkook stared down at him with eyes wide and innocent, and Hoseok felt every molecule of his body lurch with need. He'd never seen a creature so incredible.
A pale look of shock overtook her features. “Jungkook?” she confirmed, voice trembling.
Hoseok nodded feverishly. “Yes - him, I choose him,”
She stared at him for a long moment, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, her chest rising and falling in silent heaves for air. She tried to challenge his resolve, and that same creeping feeling that she could see inside his head set him on edge.
“But he is so young! He is only just twenty, he’s still to live through the last of his boyhood!” she protested.
Her panic felt strange to Hoseok, out of place for such a perfectly presented queen. She stared him down as if her gleaming blue eyes could break his resolve, but this man had haunted him since the night he caught sight of him, pretty in blue with delicate bones. He'd made up his mind long before he saw his face.
“My Queen,” one of the advisors interrupted, rising to his feet.
She turned on heel and stared at him, eyes searching for reassurance and answers in his wrinkled, comely face.
“Put the question to the boy and see what he thinks, perhaps he will be willing to marry,” the advisor suggested, his voice a sensible authority.
“But he’s so young! And such a flighty, naive little thing! He isn't made for royal life!"
“My Queen, I know it pains you to part with your sons, but these are strong men, powerful, they will be rulers one day, you have to let them flourish,”
With a scrape of his chair he approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Even Jungkook knows that the time for running through the forests is over, he knows that he isn't a child anymore,"
She stared at the painting of her son, a smile warming her pale face. His ethereal beauty must come from her, the cosmic twinkle in their eyes and the matching upturn of their lips. Her son was a man to be proud of, a mother's pride and joy, but there was no way that he was letting him go so easily.
“Your Majesty,” Hoseok said, his voice quiet. “I reassure you that he will be safe with me, he will be loved as dearly as if he were at home,”
She looked unconvinced, and he himself didn’t know if he could believe his own words. How could a witch be loved in a home like his? Shared with the King and those awful twins, how could he truly be safe?
But it was his word, and his word was his honour.
She smiled at him, warm and sympathetic, and with a sad shimmer in her eyes she nodded.
"It is his decision, after all," she sighed, walking away from the line of portraits to take her seat at the table. She levelled the king with a stern look, all of the mirth in her eyes lost as she glared at him.
"Now, in exchange for my son there are things we need from you," she said, and the air seemed to turn cold.
Hoseok sulked back to his seat unnoticed, all of the attention fixed on the King for the diplomatic talks. He was not well versed in the problem with the witches, their demands and reasonability all unknown to him. Perhaps it was best that his brash, unsophisticated father took over for this part of their meeting.
He tried his very best to pay attention, but his eyes were drawn to the row of fine princes, their heads held high and eyes piercing him, even from a distance. His prince, the fairest of them all with his auburn eyes and dark hair, threaded with flowers and ivy leaves captured his heart as if he were a deer caught in his trap.
He couldn't wait until he lay hands on his supple skin, breathe in the scent of forests and freshwater rivers, claim this little piece of magic as his own. It was greedy of him, but Hoseok couldn't wait to meet his witch, doomed to a life of misery in the palace of men.