Archive of Our Own ^beta

1562, Kagoshima, Japan

It was dawn, and the clang of swords meeting rang out across the yard, along with shouts and grunts as the blades collided, over and over. A group of young men had gathered in a circle, and they looked on as two of their peers duelled in the centre of the ring. Clad in simple navy kimonos, the youths eyed each other carefully, sizing each other up, before launching at each other, their swords glinting in first rays of the sun.

From a platform above the yard, their trainer observed, stony-eyed, as the youths battled. He stood beneath the flags emblazoned with the white wolf of House Kim, watching as the boys duelled, back and forth, swinging their training katanas at each other. Like many other samurai youth, the boys - one fifteen, the other seventeen - fought with blunt-edged blades, and duelled often to become more battle-ready. As the Master of War of the House of Kim, it was Hoseok’s role to not only provide battle advice, but to train the noble youth how to wield a sword from a young age.

Such were the times they lived in, Hoseok thought, that these boys would focus most of their daily efforts on learning to fight, rather than the more elegant pursuits of poetry and painting. No doubt, their Lord would disagree, and say war in itself was a dance - and the art of the sword, too, should not be neglected. But Hoseok wished for a time of peace - where the sons of the House Kim and their retainers need not walk in the streets with sharp blades in their obi; where the Lord would not spend hours poring over maps, issuing orders to fortify castles and shift garrisons about.

A loud cheer jolted Hoseok out of his reverie, and he saw that the older boy had gained a foothold in the fight, pushing the younger forcefully toward the periphery of the circle.

“Go Taetae!” yelled Jimin - a pint-sized boy of seventeen, who was presently leaping up and down in excitement as his friend grunted and thrust his sword at his opponent’s midsection. Yet the younger boy twisted deftly, dodging the blow, and placed a swift hit to the other’s shoulder with the hilt of his katana.

With a cry of pain, the older boy dropped his sword and clutched his shoulder, only to be faced with his peer’s blade pointed directly at his throat.

“I win,” said the younger boy, in a voice laced with pride and just a hint of arrogance. “Again.”

Jimin groaned and rushed forward to help his friend up, staring daggers at the other as he sheathed his sword, bowing curtly. “Taehyungie, are you okay?” Jimin asked, his voice full of concern, as he rubbed his friend’s shoulder to sooth the blow.

“I’m okay, Chim!” Taehyung said, wincing as he straightened up, and returned his opponent’s bow. “You fought well, Jeongguk…”

Jeongguk had the audacity to smirk.

“Wish I could say the same for you, Young Master Kim…”

“Why, you little…” Jimin raised his voice, his hand flying to the hilt of his blade.

“That’s enough, boys,” came Hoseok’s level, measured voice, as he descended from the platform, making his way toward the group. “Well fought, to the both of you. Masters Kim, Jeon and Park - stay. The rest of you, you are dismissed.”

The other boys bowed, and retreated swiftly. Some shot the trio looks of sympathy as they retreated - it was never a good thing when Hoseok personally singled anyone out for a shelling.

Hoseok waited for the other boys to be out of earshot, before heaving a sigh of exasperation.

“How many times do I have to tell you children - that it is simply unbecoming of a House to have its youth picking fights with each other in the yard, like common peasants?”

“I did not fight, sir,” Jeongguk stared resolutely ahead, his chin tilted in defiance. “Master Park reached for his sword, not I. It’s not my fault that someone so short has a temper to match.”

“You little brat, shut your mouth -”

“Chim, no -”

“Enough!”

The trio fell silent and looked down at the ground, fidgeting nervously as their teacher paced before them, his jaw set in anger.

“All three of you, to the study. I want a hundred copies of the Verse of Peace. Each. Before dinner - or there shall be none for any of you.”

“But sir -”

“Enough, Master Jeon, or it will be a thousand that you will write. A true nobleman cares for his words as much as he does for his skill with a sword - for words cut swifter than blades, at times.”

Jeongguk stared at the dirt, his fists clenched and his eyes hard. Beside him, Jimin toyed with the jade charms attached to the hilt of his sword, and avoided Hoseok’s piercing gaze.

“I apologise on behalf of my peers - they don’t mean to be undignified, sir. We will head to the study immediately,” Taehyung said softly, bowing low before his teacher.

“Away with you,” Hoseok said, resigned, as he turned and headed into the shade of the Great Hall.

“Well done, Park. Curse you - a hundred damned verses  -”

“It would do you well to speak to your elders with more respect, Jeon -”

“Hard to be respectful when you’re the same height as my five-year-old cousin -”

Taehyung sighed, and strode off in the direction of the Willow Study, leaving the two trailing behind him and bickering all the way.

Unlike the other samurai boys he trained with, Taehyung loved the time they spent at the study. No doubt, his wrist now ached from writing continuously for hours - but the study was one of the most beautiful places in the outer palace. Though sparsely decorated, the sliding doors of the study opened out to the bamboo grove, and a cool breeze caressed his face as he wrote. From his seat at the front of the room, Taehyung could spy the lotus pond in the distance - filled with the pink-and-purple flowers that bloomed so brightly this time of the year - and the weeping willows that bent over the bridge.

Taehyung was never much good with a sword - his thrusts were always too clumsy and always a second too late. This deficiency on his part had been met with disapproval from Hoseok - who believed it was of great importance that the only remaining sibling of his Lord be the best swordsman of his generation.

But that certainly wasn’t the case - not with the way that Jeongguk had bested him every time they duelled. Taehyung was good, but not Jeongguk good. Though Jimin would never admit it, they both lost to Jeongguk for a reason - because the boy moved with the sure-footedness of a cat, and fought with the ferocity of a wolf. His footwork was excellent, and so was his strength - so, try as he might, whenever anyone duelled Jeongguk, they always found themselves on their knees, a sword levelled right at their faces.

“Ninety-nine…one hundred… done!” Jimin proclaimed excitedly, flourishing his brush in success. “What about you, Taetae!”

“Another fifty to go,” Taehyung said, realising that he had been daydreaming for far too long. He sighed, and picked up his brush again, starting on another verse.

Across from him, Jeongguk persevered as well, ignoring Jimin as he clattered around, shoving his brushes haphazardly into his brush stand and pattering around noisily as he adjusted his obi.

“I won’t wait for you, Taetae, I promised Silver that I would take him out for a ride - and we’re not allowed to ride our horses outside the castle gates before sundown!” Jimin said, as he fastened his sandals.

Taehyung shook his head. “Don’t hurt yourself, Chimchim, you always ride too far and too fast.”

“You take care of yourself, I’m leaving you with this wild animal here -”

Annoyance flashed in Jeongguk’s eyes, and he busied himself with grinding his ink slab vigorously, imagining Jimin’s face disintegrating beneath the pestle.

Jimin laughed as Taehyung shooed him away, and with a rustle of silks, Jimin was gone. And Jeongguk was alone with Taehyung.

They worked in silence for a while, as Jeongguk slowly, but surely, made his way to his ninetieth piece. Meanwhile, Taehyung, with his swift brushstrokes and neat handwriting, completed a hundred with ease.

It was only after a while that Jeongguk realised - Young Master Kim was watching him.

Clearing his throat, Jeongguk met his big, brown eyes with a steely gaze.

“May I help you?”

“Jeon, why do you hate me?” Taehyung asked.

Jeongguk was taken aback - in his years growing up at the Kim palace, neither of the heirs had ever addressed him directly, nor asked such a personal question. Then again - it was, indeed, the first time in the many years of their adolescence, that they had been left alone to converse between themselves.

“Pardon?”

“I’m not sure if I did anything to offend you, Jeon, but I’ve extended nothing but courtesy to you. If I did hurt you, in any way, I apologise -”

“No, no - you didn’t,” Jeongguk shifted in his seat, setting his brush down.

“Then why are you always so cold to everyone? Especially to me.”

Jeongguk averted his gaze.

“It’s… well, it’s not you. I’ve always been sort of an outcast, here. And it doesn’t help that you’ve got that yapping hound of a best friend, always bouncing around next to you, giving me dirty looks when I so much as touch you.”

“Oh Jeongguk - I’m so sorry.”

“It’s nothing, don’t apologise,” Jeongguk coughed, and straightened his posture, filling both his and Taehyung’s cup with tea.

“You know…”

“Yes?”

“Chimchim really likes you!”

Jeongguk choked on his tea.

“W-what?”

“No - really! You should hear him - he always says you’ve got the best moves he’s ever seen with that sword of yours. Jeongguk’s sword moves faster than the wind, he says. And he’s right! He’s just cold and nasty to you because… well…”

“Well?”

“Because you keep calling him… short.”

Jeongguk burst into peals of laughter, nearly keeling over.

“It’s not funny, Jeongguk! Chimchim really hates it when people make fun of his height and call him a little child -”

“He is short as hell, Kim,” Jeongguk wiped his eyes with his sleeve, his face red from laughing.

“Well if you were nicer to him, you’ll find Jimin a very good friend indeed. The best brother ever.”

“Sure,” scoffed Jeongguk, his breathing now back to normal. “Though I think it’d be hard to find him…”

Taehyung threw a brush at Jeongguk, which he dodged with ease.

“Damn your lightning-fast reflexes, Jeon.”

Jeongguk grinned, and picked up his brush, moving on to the ninety-first copy of the Verse of Peace.

Minutes passed, and Jeongguk still felt Taehyung’s gaze on him.

“Jeon…”

“Kim.”

“Could you, you know - teach me how to fight?”

Jeongguk looked at Taehyung, puzzled. “You know how to fight, Kim.”

“But you’re the best swordsman in our House.”

“And you’re pretty good yourself, Kim. Why do you need my help?

Taehyung sighed, and propped his chin up on his hands.

“They expect a lot from me, you know. Hoseok. My brother. Everyone.”

“Because you’re next in line, Kim.”

“Yes, it’s a fine place to be, isn’t it. Next in line. I’m seventeen, Jeongguk. And I pale in comparison to when my father was chief - and now my brother. At seventeen my father rode into his first battle, and led a charge on his own, even. At seventeen, my brother took over this house. And here I am, well -”

Taehyung cast his gaze out of the window, and Jeongguk noticed, for the first time, how delicate his features were - from the chestnut-coloured hair that strayed from his top-knot, to the soft, brown eyes and his smooth, clean-shaven jawline. There was something elegant about Kim - perhaps was something to do with being the heir to a fief, Jeongguk thought - that he had never quite noticed.

Then again, he had spent most of his time trying to bash Kim’s face in - so how pretty it looked was never his concern.

Jeongguk sighed, and he knew he would regret it the moment Taehyung’s eyes lit up with joy.

“Fine.”

“You mean -”

“Yes - fine. I’ll meet you at the clearing in the bamboo grove near the West Lake tomorrow - at the hour of the monkey. Don’t be late - I won’t wait around for you.”

“Yes! I knew you’d say yes - thank you, Jeongguk, we’ll have so much fun -”  Taehyung launched himself at Jeongguk, enveloping him in a warm, soft embrace - nearly upending his writing table in the process.

Jeongguk didn’t return the hug - it was rather unbecoming, after all, for a samurai youth - but he couldn’t shake how Taehyung’s hair smelt like sandalwood and lilies.

For the rest of the day, Jeongguk smelt like lilies, too.

Hoseok walked through the hallways of the Kim residence with purpose, his attendant following closely behind. The maids hurried past him as they scurried through the long corridors like mice, their heads bowed with respect.

The Kim’s private residence lay in the centre of the castle grounds, in the middle of an endless labyrinth of corridors. Hoseok surmised that there must have been at least a thousand rooms in the residence - for it wasn’t just the house of a nobleman, but a palace, a fortified stronghold. As the honjō, the main castle of the Kim clan, the palace was an exhibition of grandeur in itself. Within the red walls of the Kim palace lived the daimyo lord, his family, and their loyal retainers - all working to defend the lives and livelihood of the common folk of the region.

The palace sat on a hill in the centre of the fiefdom - its magnificent golden keep overlooking all of Kagoshima. Fortified by a deep moat, the only way into the castle grounds was via a heavily-guarded drawbridge that was pulled up every night, at sundown. Behind the gates, the sprawling castle grounds were divided into concentric maru, or circles. In the periphery lived the lesser lords, and lower-ranking retainers, who also manned the walls at night. In the second circle lived the lords of the Kim court, and their families - and that included Hoseok. And in the innermost circle, barricaded by lustrous red walls, was the residence of the Kims - where the young lord, and his only living sibling, Taehyung, resided.

Though the gardens were bursting with colour - the flower bushes being amply watered by babbling brooks that ran swiftly under quaint bridges - the Kim’s private residence was often exceedingly quiet, and bordering on lifeless. The maids moved through the gilded hallways soundlessly - and where there used to be the laughter of children ringing through the rooms, there was now nothing but silence.

But it was Hoseok’s personal belief that the head of the Kim family had done very well indeed in the last two years. The young lord Kim had inherited his father’s seat at the tender age of seventeen, when the Lord had been killed in battle. The boy was wise beyond his years, and had negotiated peace for the region - no doubt a tenuous agreement, but one that was cherished by all.

In the last two years, Hoseok had enjoyed his respite from the bloodshed and suffering of the battlefield, and contended himself with teaching Lord Kim’s younger brother how to fight, as per the leader’s instructions. The boy did, after all, require proper instruction - he was much too gentle, at first, and dealt blows with the unsure gait of a bumbling teenager.

But Hoseok knew the real reason why his Lord worried so much about his brother. The younger Kim boy was, after all, the only surviving Kim heir. One day, he might inherit the House, and be forced into the role of a leader - regardless of his temperament, or capability. And Namjoon - being so young when the weight of such vast authority had fallen on his shoulders - now knew better than anyone how important it was to remain vigilant and prepared.

It was with the purpose of reporting the boy’s weekly progress that Hoseok scaled the seven floors of the castle’s keep, the stairs winding dizzily as he ascended. Lord Kim had relocated his study to the topmost level of the keep - where the terrace would offer him an unobstructed view of the night sky.

At the door, Hoseok found himself face to face with Lord Kim’s chief attendant - Seokjin, a distant cousin from a lesser clan. Seokjin - or Jin, as he was known - took charge of the Lord’s household affairs - making it certain that their Lord was dressed sharply and appropriately for every occasion, keeping the gardens in pristine condition, and ensuring that immaculately-prepared dishes found their way onto the Kim’s dining table at every meal.

Jin bowed, but eyed Hoseok with a hint of disapproval, noting the sweat that dripped from his forehead onto the silks of his robe.

“Lord Jung, you’ve arrived.”

“Jin - looking good, as usual.”

Jin bowed in thanks, his plump lips curving into a smile. “You flatter me, Lord Jung. I shall not keep you further - the Lord awaits your presence in the study. Cold tea will be served shortly - it is, after all, a hot summer’s day.”

Hoseok bowed as Jin swept away, with Hoseok’s own attendant following closely behind. He took a moment to dab the sweat from his forehead, then gestured to the serving girls to open the study doors.

The paper doors slid open to reveal a plainly-decorated room. Tatami mats extended across the length of the study, and Hoseok spied a new ikebana arrangement on the large, low desk that took pride of place at the end of the room. Seated at the desk was Lord Namjoon himself  brows furrowed in worry as he pored over a map of the region. On the map were small, moveable figurines of varying sizes - marked with the respective names of the Kims’ neighbouring clans.

“My Lord,” Hoseok bowed in greeting. “A fine afternoon it is today - it’s too beautiful outside to linger in your study, and not take a tour of the castle gardens.”

“Hoseok!” Lord Namjoon’s face lit up, and he got to his feet, nearly upsetting the map as he rose.

“Goodness me, be careful, my Lord -” Hoseok extended an arm quickly to steady the other man, who smiled sheepishly in return.

“How many years have we known each other, Hoseok? It’s always Namjoon to you - in private, at least,” Namjoon said, as they headed out to the terrace. It was a wonderful view of the castle from here, Hoseok thought - you could see the blue skies, and the vast expanse of the Kim’s palace grounds - and a glimpse, even, of the grey mountains in the distance.

Hoseok nodded as Namjoon entreated him to take his seat across from him at the table. A serving girl came forth, and placed a small, chilled pot of tea before each of them - along with a tiered tray of tiny, flower-shaped cakes.

“Honey, osmanthus and chrysanthemum cakes, to go with chilled sencha,” one of the girls said as she knelt in courtesy. Namjoon took a cake from the plate, and nodded in approval, as he waved the maids away.

“Jin keeps feeding me. Five times a day, Hoseok. I’ve never been this well nourished all my life. I’m getting fat.”

“You’re fine, Joon. You’re not going to get fat from eating two little cakes every now and then.”

Namjoon shook his head, stuffing his mouth with yet another cake. “Wait till you get a bite of these honey things - the man is a genius.”

Hoseok declined, politely, for he was still a little out of breath - he had, after all, rushed from his residence near the training yards, all the way to the top of the keep to meet with the Lord. Hoseok did enjoy these weekly meetings, though - it was never easy to get a solid hour of Namjoon’s attention. Since his friend had assumed the position of Lord, things had never been quite the same. But when he looked at Namjoon now - just a youth of nineteen, licking the honey off his fingers and sighing in contentment - it felt like they were children, again.

But spring was over, and summer was passing so quickly - soon it would be autumn, then winter - and their teenage years would be over. They both would be men, at last.

“So - how’s my little brother?”

Hoseok groaned. “That one’s such a handful. He got beaten again by the Jeon boy - nearly got his shoulder crushed in. Then I had to break up another fight between the Park child and Jeon - gave all three of them verses to copy as punishment.”

Namjoon chuckled, sipping on his tea. “Taehyung could do with some taming. The boy runs around with that Jimin boy all day, tripping over bushes and getting thrown off horses. Some good training, a few solid whacks from the Jeon boy - that would do them both some good.”

“You’re not the one who has to pull them apart when they’re shoving each other into the dust.”

“Roughhousing, Hoseok. Let boys be boys. It’s adorable.”

"They’re terrible little brats, and I rue the day I agreed to this arrangement of ours.”

Namjoon laughed - a throaty guffaw - and they toasted each other briefly before sipping from their respective cups of tea.

“You looked a little worried, earlier.”

Namjoon fell silent, and reached into his robes, producing a bloodstained letter.

Hoseok took it from his hands - his heart catching in his throat as he read it quickly.

“This is ridiculous, how -”

“A scout rode in last night. Or rather - he was dead, by the time he got through the gates. Arrows through the chest - his horse brought him back. Loyal animal, it was. The man was clutching this letter.”

“And you’re sure…?”

“Yes, it’s them, for sure. The Fujiwara clan. The tips of the arrows that pierced the man’s back were painted white. The generals surmise that he was fleeing their pursuit, when they shot him from behind. Cowards.”

“But Joon - this, this is beyond what we would have expected of them. To breach our borders these few years, repeatedly - going so far as to destroy a tower in the South, now. We will have to do something, somehow.”

“There is another way, Hoseok, which will not require brute force to deal with the problem. To negotiate, as we did two years ago, to secure this peace. I do not intend to break it.”

“Namjoon - to breach our borders is disrespect. To torch our towers, burn our lands - that’s an invasion.”

“Discretion is the better part of valour.”

“Discretion is a better word for cowardice.”

Namjoon clenched his fists as his eyes flashed with anger.

“Hoseok - listen to yourself. You want war? Again? Have the people of our land not suffered enough? Do they need another ten years of strife, do fathers, brothers, need to die for a useless battle before it will satisfy you?”

Hoseok was on his feet too, before he realised it.

“I’ve lost people too, Joon - when I last put on my armour. We all fought - for a reason. Don’t you remember what Yoongi fought for? Who he died for?”

“Don’t, Hoseok. Don’t you dare, for a second, tell me that I don’t remember my fallen brothers. I see them every night, when I close my eyes. I hear their voices, when the mountain winds carry the howls of the wolves to my ears.”

Hoseok watched as Namjoon’s eyes filled with hot tears.

“And I know - because they fought, because they died, that there has to be another way, other than another needless war. War is not noble, Hoseok - you should know that, better than anyone. War is a violent, dirty affair - and we are better than that.”

Hoseok sighed, his eyes downcast, as he observed his friend’s trembling hands.

“What will you do, then? As the Lord, the leader of our house - what is your decision?”

“I will broker a marriage.”

Hoseok’s eyes shot up to meet Namjoon’s.

“You don’t mean -”

“An envoy will set off at dawn, to the Keita clan. And I will find a way - to put an end to this senseless fight we have on our hands.”

“Joon - you can’t mean - how could you -”

“I can, and I will, Hoseok. I am a man now, the Lord of my house. Don’t speak to me like a mere child." 

Hoseok kept silent, considering his Lord’s words.

"This is my decision.”

“If that is your choice.”

“It is.”

Hoseok nodded, schooling his expression into one of indifference. His Lord was a stubborn man, and nothing he could say or do would change his mind once it was set.

“In that case, I will take my leave.”

Namjoon nodded, and turned away, his robes rustling a little in the wind.

Hoseok padded to the door, but as it slid open, he spoke, again.

“You know it will come one day, Joonie. When the time for talking, for hiding, will be over. When our swords will taste blood again.”

“I know,” Namjoon said, his voice laced with an unspeakable bitterness. “But that day is not today.”

Hoseok headed down the stairs, slowly, this time. From the windows of the keep’s turrets, he glimpsed the setting sun - a fiery blaze of glory, bleeding red. Before long, he knew, it would be swallowed by the clouds, and disappear beneath the horizon - giving way to the growing darkness.

But not today, Hoseok thought. Not today.

Taehyung was late.

With a click of his tongue, Taehyung spurred his pure white stallion on at full speed toward the West Lake. He hadn’t meant to be late - but Jimin had kept him back at the castle all afternoon, intent on showing him how he’d “mastered” the art of spinning a top for more than forty-five seconds. Needless to say, Jimin hadn’t succeeded, and now Taehyung was running late.

A whole hour late.

Taehyung wasn’t even sure that Jeongguk was still waiting for him at the bamboo grove - in the morning, Jeongguk had been back to his cold, frigid self; all biting words and harsh, intense gazes. No doubt, Jimin had, once again, picked a fight with Jeongguk (when Hoseok was out of earshot, this time), and the latter had fought back with that sharp tongue of his. Taehyung wondered if the two were ever going to get along - but for now, he worried more about making it to the clearing in double-quick time.

As Taehyung approached the clearing, he let out of a whoop of happiness (and relief) as he spotted Jeongguk’s grey stallion secured to a pole. It’s owner sat on the grass, his back resting against a large rock on the circumference of the grove.

Taehyung jumped off his steed and patted it lightly on its neck. “Thank you, Haku-sama, you ran fast!” he said, nuzzling it with appreciation, and it harrumphed, seemingly in reply.

As Taehyung made to tie his horse up next to Jeongguk’s, he took in his surroundings. He had rarely been in this part of the palace - always contenting himself with playing with Jimin within the palace walls, or riding their horses south, where the farmers grew their crops in the fields. There, Taehyung and Jimin tasted the berries that were grown on the Kim land, and sampled selections of tea offered to them by the kindly village folk. It wasn’t often that Taehyung went to the West Lake - it was so much colder, windier and bleaker up here, but no less beautiful.

The clearing they were in was peaceful, and cool - and from what Taehyung could see, was a sort of sanctuary for Jeongguk. Several swords of different lengths lay at Jeongguk’s side, and a cloth wrapped full of fruit, and a small flask of water, were set down carefully a short distance away. Taehyung surmised that he never saw Jeongguk around the castle much, because the boy was hiding away up here, staying far from the bustle of the palace until sundown.

Jeongguk held his longsword in his hands, and had his eyes closed, and his face tilted toward the sun - as though he was asleep. Taehyung admired him from afar as he worked to secure his horse - observing the soft lines of his (slightly large) nose as he breathed in and out. Jeongguk looks so much less fierce this way, Taehyung thought. Like a little rabbit, without that hard jaw and threatening eyes.

“You’re right on time, Young Master Kim,” Jeongguk said sarcastically, as he moved to his feet. “How my poor heart longed for your presence while I waited.”

Ah, Taehyung thought. Less rabbit and more wolf, now.

“I apologise, Jeongguk. I was… occupied, at the castle.”

Jeongguk snorted. “Let me guess. Young lord Park found some form of inane entertainment or another to satisfy both your curiosities for the day?”

Taehyung frowned. “Yes - well, no - it wasn’t inane, Jeongguk.”

“Yeah, alright. Now let’s get to it - we’ve only got an hour or so before we have to ride back to the gates of your residence. We would have had two if you hadn’t been so otherwise engaged,” Jeongguk grumbled as he unsheathed his sword and spun it in his hands.

“Oh - here’s yours.”

Jeongguk tossed him a katana in a gold-and-white sheath. Taehyung managed to catch it - albeit with slightly shaky hands. The metal shimmered in the afternoon sun as he unsheathed it slowly - and he gasped at the sharp edge of the blade.

“We’re not using… training swords?”

Jeongguk looked at him carefully. “I thought you wanted me to teach you?”

“Yes, but, you know - without a real blade. Won’t we hurt ourselves?”

“Master Kim - how do you propose you learn to fight without ever wielding a real blade?”

“But - what if - ”

Jeongguk chuckled, and Taehyung felt his skin tingle just a little. He chalked it up to the fear that was coursing through his veins as he clutched this blade - that felt so foreign, so light in his hands.

“Real blades feel different, Master Kim. They’re made of a different kind of steel - and they balance in a slightly dissimilar way, as well. Just so,” Jeongguk said, balancing his sword on the back of his palm, then throwing it up and catching it on its hilt.

Taehyung gulped as he drew his sword. The blade felt cold and foreign to the touch.

“Don’t be afraid of the katana, Master Kim.”

“Ah… call me Tae. Or Taetae, if you want to! My brother calls me Taetae, and so does Chimchim! I feel so weird with you being all formal, especially when I’m asking for your help.”

“Oh. Okay…Tae,” Jeongguk said, the name rolling off his tongue in a slightly awkward manner. He took the blade from Taehyung’s hand, and rested it in his. “Watch how I hold it. You grip the hilt with such force - it’s extra energy that you’re exhausting on your part.”

Jeongguk’s fingers brushed against Taehyung’s as he readjusted the older boy’s grip on the blade. Taehyung tried to ignore how his rough, callused fingers brushed against his own hand - as well as the long, white scars that were ribboned across Jeongguk’s wrist.

“Think of the blade as…an extension of your arm. Stand side-facing, as you would, if you were facing an enemy in battle. And move your leading foot forth, with your first thrust - naturally - yes!”

Jeongguk stepped back quickly as Taehyung swung the blade, tentatively - it cut through the air smoothly and with little resistance. Taehyung’s eyes widened as he tested his swing - once, twice - as Jeongguk watched.

“Nicely done, Master Kim. Now that you’ve corrected your posture, let’s start with some basics.”

“Basics?”

“Well - Hoseok won’t say it, because he’s too polite, and well, you’re the heir to the House - but you - you fight like a servant girl, Tae.”

“W-what?” Taehyung sputtered indignantly. “I do not!”

“Yeah, you do. You’re all soft and feminine and clumsy with your blows - there’s no sharpness to it, no strength. You keep looking down at your hands when you strike - instead of looking ahead, measuring distances and sizing your opponent up. And most of all - you’re so bloody predictable - always going left before turning and going right again.”

Taehyung was dumbstruck. He’d never been spoken to that way - nor had anyone (not Hoseok, not Jimin, not the other boys) told him that he fought like a serving maid.

He also hadn’t realised that Jeongguk noticed him.

Taehyung coughed. “Alright, then. How should I improve, in order to one day vanquish your sorry self?”

Jeongguk chortled. “Well - we’ll be here awhile, then.”

Taehyung frowned, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m serious, Jeongguk. Teach me how! Show me!”

“Okay, okay. Stop hitting me,” Jeongguk said, dodging some of Taehyung’s badly placed punches. He stepped away from Taehyung, then inhaled deeply, before plunging headfirst into a sword routine.

Jeongguk’s moved through the expanse of the grove as though he was flying through the air. Taehyung watched in astonishment as the boy’s sword changed hands as he jumped and swirled, his robes a blur as he leaped through the air. His feet just barely met the earth as he sprung, from point to point, the katana whistling and slicing as he went. And his eyes - those dark, onyx orbs - were focused in concentration as he spun and danced - the katana seemingly one with his body.

Taehyung had always thought that sword-fighting was a strenuous, sweaty activity - nothing like the swirl of a paintbrush, or the music of a flute - but Jeongguk was, himself, art, and Taehyung had never seen anyone - not even Hoseok - wield a longsword that way.

It was with quiet awe that he observed Jeongguk as he completed the sword routine, panting slightly as he sheathed his sword.

You’re beautiful, Taehyung thought. More beautiful than anything I’ve seen in my life.

“Taetae, slow down,” Seokjin said reproachfully, as Taehyung grabbed another piece of chicken from the serving plate.

“Mmf…” Taehyung said, attempting to vocalise his thoughts through a mouthful of food. “Eunnfff is fguuuud…”

“Swallow, then speak,” Namjoon said, smiling at his younger brother as he wolfed down his dinner. “Jin, more sake, please.”

Seokjin nodded, and with an elegant tilt of his hands, lifted the cask of liquor to pour Namjoon’s drink. Taehyung had grown used to Seokjin’s presence at dinner time. Before, family dinners were grand, formal affairs that involved ten servants serving their courses with absolute precision. But it was just himself and Namjoon now - so Seokjin catered to them personally.

“You should drink less, my lord, it’s your third one tonight,” Seokjin said, placing the cups before Namjoon.

Namjoon waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve been up in the mountains for a whole two weeks because of that blasted hunting trip. It’s been a while since Taetae and I have managed to have dinner together. It warrants a good drink, don’t you think, Jin?”

“Certainly, my lord, as long as you don’t break anything tonight,” Jin said, as he produced a platter of freshly cut sashimi.

“Omfff!” Taehyung made a sound of delight, as he dove for the fish.

Namjoon shook his head as he observed his younger brother’s ravenous appetite and appalling table manners, while Seokjin, alarmed, quickly proffered a napkin for Taehyung to wipe his mouth and fingers with.

Namjoon waited for Taehyung to stop shovelling food into his mouth before speaking again.

“So, Taetae, what have you been doing these weeks while I was away? Did you listen to Hoseok?”

“Yes, of course I did!” Taehyung said, his eyes lighting up into a smile as his chopsticks lifted another piece of sushi from the main platter. “Teacher said I improved a lot as well, with the duelling.”

“Does he speak the truth, Jin?” Namjoon turned to Seokjin, his eyebrows raised suspiciously.

“Apparently so,” Jin said, laughing softly. “Taetae bested Jimin today in the duelling yard.”

“Oh, yes I did!” Taehyung chirped, chewing on yet another piece of tuna. “Chimchim was so upset, he was lying on the ground and just squealing and moaning for the longest time.”

Namjoon nodded in approval, his lips curving into a smile. “I’m glad to hear you are making new improvements, Taetae. And not picking fights with the other boys your age as well.”

“I never pick fights with my friends! Also, Jeonggukie taught me Jimin’s weak spots, so I could hit him just right…”

“Jeonggukie?”

“Yes, nii-san, Jeonggukie! He’s two years younger than I am. He told me Jimin has a really sensitive midriff, and weak ankles because of all the accidents he got into when we were younger - so I hit him right there and Chim just went down.”

“Weren’t you always fighting with the Jeon boy, though?” Namjoon asked, a little confused. The last he had heard from Hoseok, the boys were at each other’s throats almost every day.

“No - we don’t fight! I love training with Jeonggukie so much, though he’s always fighting with Chim. But Jeonggukie’s broader and he has such huge muscles -”

Namjoon opened his mouth to ask a question, but Jin cast him a knowing look and silenced him with a slight shake of his head.

“- so we just have fun together! Jeonggukie and I!”

Namjoon coughed. “Very exciting, Taetae. I’m glad you’re… close, with the other boys.”

“For sure!” Taehyung grinned, his eyes shining with delight as he went for yet another piece of sashimi.

“Oh yes, before I forget,” Namjoon said, as he rose from the table and shuffled toward his travelling case (and nearly tripping over the new silk seating cushions in the process). “Taetae - this is for you.”

Namjoon held out a small, red box, that Taehyung received carefully.

“Whoa!” Taehyung gasped, fishing the contents of the box out. “What is this?”

A white jade pendant, shaped like the head of a wolf, lay heavy in his hand. As Taehyung turned it over to examine it closely, it glimmered in the candlelight, the gold inlay of its eyes gleaming bright.

“I had it made, when we passed by a famed jade craftsman at the foot of the mountains. It’s the white wolf - the sigil of our father’s house. Do you like it?”

“Yes - I love it so much, thank you, nii-san!” Taehyung hugged Namjoon tightly, nearly bowling him over.

“A fine choice, my lord,” Jin said, looking at the jade pendant appreciatively. “It’s very elegant, and the right choice for Tae indeed.”

“I’ll put it right here!” Taehyung pulled the white-and-gold katana out from inside his shirt, making to fasten the tassels of the wolf pendant to his sword.

Namjoon and Seokjin stared, dumbstruck, at the weapon.

“Taetae! This isn’t proper - a training sword inside the inner chambers -” Seokjin sputtered, making to remove the sword from Taehyung’s hands.

“No! This is mine, and I’m old enough now!” Taehyung said, pouting petulantly as he fastened the wolf pendant to the hilt. “And it’s not a training sword - it’s real! Look!”

Seokjin gasped as Taehyung unsheathed the sword - the sharp edges of the katana so glinting dangerously in the light.

Namjoon reached for the sword, and examined it carefully, balancing the blade in his hands. “A wonderfully made blade - castle forged, light, fast. Taetae - where did you get this? Do you know how to use it?”

“It was a gift from Jeonggukie, and Jeonggukie taught me how to wield it too!” Taehyung said, his eyes shining with pride. “And Jeonggukie’s really good, too - we’ve been duelling with training blades all this while and its been great but this is just different, yknow!”

Seokjin frowned, an affronted look on his face. “The Jeon boy has been duelling you with a sharp blade? What if you get hurt?”

“Jeonggukie’s careful with me!” Taehyung replied, hiding his hands under the table, his eyes still dancing with excitement.

“Careful?” Seokjin wasn’t having any of it, and lifted Taehyung’s hands above the table. As he undid the silk ribbons that the boy had fashioned into makeshift gloves,he gasped, horrified, at the cuts on Taehyung’s soft hands and his upper arm. Some of the cuts had begun to scab over, and some others were fresh, and covered with a herbal salve.

“Taetae! This isn’t being careful, look at your hands!”

Taehyung withdrew his hands and huffed indignantly. “It’s just a few cuts, stop fussing, the  bruises on my legs look worse -”

Namjoon sighed, and returned the sword to Taehyung. “Calm down, Jin -”

“Calm down? Your brother has mangled his body playing at war with the Jeon boy, and you want me to calm down.”

“We aren’t playing at war, Jin. We have always been at war, and you’re a fool if you think otherwise.”

Taehyung had fallen silent, and was now clutching the white-and-gold sword to his chest in a rather protective manner. He watched, afraid, as Seokjin looked down at his hands, and turned his face away from Namjoon.

“Yes, my lord. I’m just a servant. I know nothing,” Seokjin said bitterly, gathering the dishes onto his serving tray.

“No - Jin -”

“My lord - if I may go -” Seokjin rose to his feet, waiting to be dismissed.

“Jin, sit down, please, I’m sorry.”

Seokjin’s face relaxed, and he set the plate-laden tray down on the dining table.

“My lord, it may be out of line - but I just worry. About you. The both of you.”

“I know.” Taehyung watched quietly as Namjoon reached over, and placed a reassuring hand on Seokjin’s broad shoulders; and the latter leaned into his touch.

They had all grown up together - Namjoon, Seokjin, and himself - and he envied how close the bond between the two older men had become. Seokjin’s anger, while easily incited, could be calmed with a few words from Namjoon - and Taehyung was, by now, used to their bickering.

“And I didn’t forget you as well, my dear Jin,” Namjoon said, his face lighting up in a cheeky smile. Seokjin looked puzzled as Namjoon made his way across the room in haste, nearly tripping over the cushions again. But his jaw dropped, as Namjoon produced a large, snow-white fox-fur coat from a leather case.

“This is - for me?” Jin stuttered, his long, pale fingers trembling as he held the coat in his hands. “My lord, you shouldn’t have - it’s beautiful.”

“Wow,” Taehyung said, as he admired the colour of the pelt.

“Yes,” Namjoon said, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Well… winter is just around the corner… and I saw you that you had no new furs to wear, and you get colds ever so easily -”

“Thank you, my lord. I am ever so grateful,” Jin said, running his fingers over the coat.

“Nii-san, why don’t I get presents like this?” Taehyung asked, watching as Jin folded the coat carefully and placed it into the leather case from which it came.

Namjoon cleared his throat.

“Because, Taetae,” he said, “Pelts from the animals we hunt…are given to people. People that are… special, to us. People we want to, uh, bring under our protection.”

Taehyung looked on as Jin smiled shyly, his hands fiddling with the ribbon on the case. He couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of them, and the way they complemented each other so perfectly. Seokjin had accompanied Namjoon to the frontlines of the war - and had left his family, abandoning his right of inheritance, to serve as part of their household.

Taehyung had an inkling of the sacrifice that their bond demanded of Seokjin - who would have ruled as the head of his own house, but who now poured tea and tended to gardens at the Kim castle. But it was times like these - in these tender moments, that Taehyung wished he had someone, too, who would protect him, as fiercely as Namjoon guarded Seokjin, and vice versa.

No doubt, he had Jimin, his best friend. And now - maybe, just maybe, - Jeonggukie.

“Watch the left. The left, Tae.”

Taehyung groaned, and attempted to steady his footing as he wobbled a little. Jeongguk and himself had been working on an exercise to improve his balance - which involved him doing his regular footwork exercises on a log balanced a foot above the ground.

“Hold your sword straight - being off balance is the point - but your sword should stay straight.”

“I’m on one foot, I can’t - oof.”

Taehyung had, once again, fallen face-first onto the ground. Jeongguk laughed a little, before extending a hand to help him up.

“I told you to be careful your left foot, Tae. You’re always slanting towards the right. Centre yourself, and look forward - not at your feet.”

“I swear, you’re just torturing me at this point,” Taehyung said, wincing as he dusted himself off. Bruises had become a common occurrence at this point, and Taehyung had stopped counting how many times Jeongguk’s katana had accidentally nicked his skin as they duelled.

Jeongguk smirked. “Let’s take a break, you look like you need it.”

Taehyung shot him a look of loathing as he settled down noisily, stretching his sore legs out on the grass. Next to him, Jeongguk took a long swig from his water flask, before eyeing Taehyung, who reached out eagerly for the water with both hands.

Jeongguk jumped to his feet, and dangled the flask teasingly out of Taehyung’s grasp, leaving the prince batting at the air like a cat clawing at a ball of yarn. Aggravated, Taehyung launched himself at Jeongguk’s knees, wrestling him to the ground in a surprising burst of strength. As the younger man crashed onto the soft grass with a breathless chuckle, Taehyung began clawing his way up Jeongguk’s long, muscular body, adamant at getting to the water flask - which Jeongguk was still decidedly holding out of reach.

“Gimme - Guk - eunf -” Taehyung continued to make swipes at the bottle with his right hand, all the while attempting to pin Jeongguk’s arms down with his other, when the younger stilled, all of a sudden.

It was then that Taehyung noticed that he was now nose to nose with Jeongguk - his chest pressed up against the warmth of the other, his thin fingers curled around Jeongguk’s wrist. Jeongguk’s dark eyes bored into his - that same, indecipherable stare - and Taehyung gulped, his throat suddenly feeling extremely dry.

The younger stiffened a little, and shoved Taehyung off lightly, tossing him the water. Taehyung muttered soft words of thanks, to which Jeongguk grunted in reply, playing nervously with the hilt of his katana as he paced around the clearing.

It was Taehyung who first broke the awkward silence, sighing dramatically as he flopped back onto the grass, spread-eagled. Jeongguk suppressed a giggle as he watched Taehyung roll about, as he attempted to express just how physically exhausting Jeongguk’s training regime was.

“Up you get,” Jeongguk said, nudging Taehyung with the side of his foot. Taehyung whined, and rolled over, holding onto Jeongguk’s calves.

“Break! I want a longer break!”

“Fine…” Jeongguk huffed, exasperated, as he dislodged his foot from Taehyung’s grasp. Taehyung chuckled happily, his lips spreading into that familiar, boxy grin that Jeongguk had become so accustomed to over the last six months. Jeongguk settled down next to Taehyung, when the older boy patted the patch of grass next to him - knowing very well that they probably wouldn’t get any training done whatsoever for the rest of the day, if Taehyung had any say in the matter.

It had been close to a year since Jeongguk had started training Taehyung, and the latter had grown extremely comfortable with him - even letting an endearing Jeonggukie slip every now and then. Jeongguk couldn’t say he especially liked being coddled by Taehyung, but he sometimes found himself reaching for the older boy’s soft, pale hands as he guided him across the rocks in the creek, or letting Taehyung mess up with the long black hair that he had, always, swept into a neat ponytail.

They still attended regular practice sessions in the yard together, and Jeongguk occasionally caught the look of confusion on Jimin’s face as he exchanged smiles with Taehyung. Things with Jimin, however, remained acrimonious at best - because Jeongguk had grown a full two inches taller in the year that had passed, and Jimin had remained, well, tiny.

While the other youths had grown broader (and uglier, in Jeongguk’s opinion), Taehyung , alone, stood out - strong and sprightly, yet maintaining that noble elegance that Jeongguk had never possessed. Jeongguk swore that the boy’s mother had to have been a legendary beauty of some sort. There was no way someone could be so effortlessly stunning, Jeongguk often thought, but there he was. And it was moments like these - where Jeongguk lay, his face turned toward Taehyung’s - where he thought Taehyung was most beautiful: and the gentle curve of his lips; the  impossible height of his cheekbones; the long, soft lashes, and his adorable, almond-shaped brown eyes.

Eyes - that were currently gazing right back at his.

Jeongguk and looked away quickly, shifting a little in the grass. “You’re staring, it’s weird.”

“Nope, you were staring.”

“Not a chance. Why would I stare at your stupid face?”

Taehyung laughed, and nudged Jeongguk’s arm aside, before worming his head onto Jeongguk’s stomach. “Ugh, you train too hard, your midriff’s as hard as a bag of rocks,” he complained, trying to make a reasonably comfortable pillow out of Jeongguk’s midriff. Jeongguk inhaled sharply - while attempting to seem nonchalant - yet before long, he was stroking the silky brown hair that fanned over his chest.

“Gukkie?”

“Mm.”

“Did Hoseok assign you to anything tomorrow?”

Jeongguk frowned as he tried to remember if the teacher had told him to report to the guild, or the study, for any additional training. “Not that I can remember. Why? We aren’t meeting tomorrow, are we?”

“No, it’s your birthday!”

“Oh,” Jeongguk said quietly. “I’d almost forgotten.”

“I just thought we’d do something for you - you know? Get all the boys together in the study. We could play some drinking games…”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Jeongguk murmured. “No one really likes me.”

“What?” Taehyung sat up, and looked at him, his eyes wide. “That’s ridiculous! Jeongguk, everyone’s okay with you - it’s just that you don’t, you know, talk to anyone. I bet if I asked, everyone would come -”

Now, Jeongguk was starting to get a little annoyed. “I just don’t want a big deal to be made out of my birthday. It’s not important. I don’t want everyone turning up just because Master Kim asked.”

“But I don’t see what the problem is - you’re one of us, and -”

“I’m not,” Jeongguk spat. “Stop it - this is just another stupid idea of yours…”

The moment the words left his lips, Jeongguk regretted them. Taehyung had withdrawn from him, biting his bottom lip, a look of hurt in his eyes, and Jeongguk couldn’t help but feel extremely sorry for his callousness. Because he was a prickly and just downright icy in his treatment of some of the boys - but being mean to Taehyung had, for a long time now, been the last thing he wanted.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispered. “I just wanted you to have a fun time…”

“I didn’t mean what I - God, alright,” Jeongguk sighed, burying his face in his hands. “We can celebrate - but, please, let’s just make it a small thing, okay? Just the two of us.”

Taehyung’s countenance brightened, the cheeky grin that Jeongguk had come to adore creeping its way back onto his face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk said.

Taehyung whooped, and began chattering on about where they would meet, and what they would eat - and Jeongguk couldn’t help but smile.

This is how I’m going to die, he thought. Death, by Kim Taehyung.

“Jin nii-san!” Taehyung called, as he bounded into the kitchens. Jin paused - a spoon in his hand, as he tasted the soup for the night’s dinner - and smiled as Taehyung rounded the corner, plucking a piece of dessert off a plate as he walked in.

“Taehyungie, you rarely come all the way to the kitchens - you must need a favour,” Jin said, looking at Taehyung knowingly. Taehyung smiled sheepishly, shifting on his feet.

“This needs more salt - just a pinch. Stir for another five minutes, then add the gingko nuts before boiling for another hour,” Jin gave swift orders to the cook, before beckoning to Taehyung to follow him out of the cooking area.

“So, what can I do for my favourite young master today?” Jin said, settling down onto the marble seats in the gardens adjacent to the kitchen.

“I thought Namjoon was your favourite master!”

“Shh,” Seokjin said, smiling. “So, what do you want. You can’t be here just to sneak a pre-dinner snack - you would have sent a servant to come get it for you.”

“Well, it’s Jeonggukie’s birthday tomorrow, and I need some help.”

Seokjin eyed Taehyung suspiciously. “Uhuh. And… what sort of help are we talking?”

“Could we perhaps make a birthday feast?”

Seokjin sighed. By we, Taehyung, of course, meant Seokjin and the maids. He thought of all the boiling, and grilling - and the number of extra maids he would have to assign to kitchen duty just for Taehyung and his little event - but what the young lord wanted, he got. Because no one could ever say no to Taehyung - not with that pout and those big, innocent eyes.

“Alright,” Seokjin agreed, grudgingly. “For how many people are we catering for?”

“Brilliant!” Taehyung clapped. “And, uh, just us. Me, and him.”

Seokjin frowned. “A private event? Is that… fun?”

Taehyung shook his head. “No…. I don’t think so, but Jeonggukie said he didn’t want the other boys there. Something about, I don’t know. Not fitting in. What nonsense, right?”

“Hmm,” Seokjin said. “What Jeon told you might not be entirely inaccurate.”

“What?” Taehyung said, his eyes widening in shock. “Why would anyone say Jeongguk isn’t one of us? He grew up here - it’s been five years that he’s lived here!”

Seokjin nodded. “Yes, he did - but Namjoon never made it clear to you why Jeongguk was here, didn’t he? What do you know of the Wolf Rebellion?”

Taehyung shook his head. “Nothing, we don’t -”

“Yes, we don’t speak of it - because it is, after all, a stain on our house. Two generations ago, Jeongguk’s family - the house that ruled the mountain regions bordering our land - led an uprising against the Kims. It was quashed, of course - but from then on, at the age of eight, each Jeon heir was taken from their family, and raised in the Kim castle, to ensure that they were brought up by us - and would, therefore, be less likely to rebel.”

Taehyung was horrified - he could never imagine being taken away from Namjoon, and being made to live as a hostage in a foreign castle. It all made sense now - how reserved Jeongguk was; how, growing up, he had often shied away from playing with the other boys; how he tried so desperately to become the best swordsman of the lot. Taehyung recalled, now, the incidences in which Junhwe and Hanbin had mocked Jeongguk, saying they didn’t want to stand next to the black wolf - he would bite our heads off. And Taehyung - a boy from a family who had held him prisoner - lorded over him like a little prince; letting the other youths insult him and push him around.

“Jeongguk is Lord Jeon’s only son. From what I gather, his father is very ill - and has been, for years, but Jeongguk hasn’t been able to return to his castle. And he won’t be able to - until his father dies, and he has to return to fill his seat.”

Taehyung felt his eyes welling up with tears. “Wouldn’t Namjoon say yes? He would, if he knew!”

"Well, Namjoon would allow it - but the generals of our House certainly wouldn’t. The other retainers - and by extension, their families - don’t feel it’s right to break tradition. It is how the Jeons atone for their wrongdoing, and there’s nothing we can do to help it. Though I should think it doesn’t matter what colour a wolf is - as long as they stay loyal to the pack.”

Seokjin patted Taehyung on the shoulder. “I was nervous, at first, when you started mixing with the Jeon boy. But I can see how happy you are, now - so I won’t fuss, not anymore. As violent as Hoseok says he tends to be, Jeongguk seems like a decent child. A good friend.”

Taehyung nodded forcefully, wiping the tears out of his eyes with the sleeve of his kimono. “He is, nii-san. He truly is.”

“Alright then, Taetae,” Seokjin said, clapping his hands together. “Don’t you think such a good friend deserves the most best birthday celebration ever?”

Jeongguk felt a little faint, as he checked his reflection in a bronze mirror. It was, finally, an hour before his so-called birthday celebrations were scheduled to start, but for Jeongguk, everything he had experienced thus far had been immensely overwhelming.

He had woken on the morning of his sixteenth birthday, thinking it would have been just like any other ordinary day - but it seemed like the universe (or rather, a certain Kim Taehyung) had other plans for him.

He had just risen, when a knock sounded on his door, and several servants swept into his room. One of them - a tall, broad-shouldered man who he only knew as Lord Kim’s personal steward - had presented Jeongguk with an entire set of new kimono. The best silk in our region - tailor-made, the man had said, before instructing the servants to escort Jeongguk (who was only barely dressed, at that point) to the Kim family’s private residence.

Jeongguk hadn’t actually seen Taehyung that day, but the boy’s fingerprints were all over this plan. Yet, he couldn’t quite say he did not enjoy being pampered on a level he had never experienced thus far. Servants had undressed him (eyeing his threadbare navy training kimono with distate) and prepared a fragrant bath in a private wing of the palace. That bath - which lasted over an hour - had been followed by a delightful breakfast in the palace gardens. Even though the  smooth black silk on his skin felt strange and unnatural, Jeongguk had relaxed, slightly, in his conversations with the chief steward (who insisted he call him Jin nii-san, as Taehyung did).

He had spent the afternoon touring the palace gardens at his own time - admiring the vivid colours of the flower bushes that adorned the winding paths on which he trod. It was summer, now - and butterflies flitted from flower to flower, and the gardens were filled with birdsong. At the pavilions, he had been served a concoction of tea that Seokjin had personally brewed - along with dainty, sweet treats that Jeongguk relished. Jeongguk had never been privy to such opulence - for even as the heir to his house, the northern mountains in which they lived had always been cold, bleak and unforgiving; and nothing like the lush greenery of the Kim palace.

But night had fallen, and, mysteriously, Taehyung was still nowhere to be seen. Seokjin had assured Jeongguk, with a wink, that Taehyung was busying himself with creating a lovely surprise - a thought which made Jeongguk a little nervous. Because Kim Taehyung - in all his brilliance and beauty - was full of wonderful, insane ideas - most of which had the tendency to go horribly wrong.

So it was with some trepidation that Jeongguk found himself being escorted to the Kim’s keep - where the Lord himself worked and lived. As he ascended the tower, Jeongguk admired the gold on the banisters, and the stunning view from every window of the keep’s turrets.

“Keep up, Master Jeon - we’re a little behind schedule, I’m afraid,” Seokjin said, pausing in his ascent as Jeongguk peered out of the windows.

Jeongguk apologised, and they continued to move upwards, finally arriving at what Jeongguk believed to be the second-highest floor of the keep.

“Taehyung wanted to host you in his brother’s room - but we thought better of it. So you will be residing in his private quarters tonight. Your clothes -”

Jeongguk choked. “R-residing?”

“Oh, yes - I hope the idea of staying the night in the palace doesn’t alarm you. Taehyung believed that when the celebrations ended, it would be much too late for you to make the journey back to the outer courts of the palace grounds. So we are, of course, making the exception for you - seeing as it is your birthday.”

Jeongguk felt his a lump in his throat - which he swallowed, resolutely, before bowing to Seokjin.

“I see. Thank you - Seok - I mean, Jin onii-sama. You’ve been very kind, all of today.”

Jin smiled, returning his bow. “It was my pleasure, Master Jeon. Many blessings, on this special day. Now - enter the chambers this way, if you will?”

Jeongguk found himself at the entrance of a very large room, which was what he presumed the beginning of Taehyung’s private chambers. It was tastefully decorated, but every inch as luxurious as the room of a young lord could be expected to be. To Jeongguk’s left, a large, colourful painting of several mythical creatures in mid-flight hung from the walls; and to his right lay a small enclave, which housed an ebony-and-marble chess table. As he moved through the room, two maids kneeling at the next set of doors bowed low, and made to slide them open.

As Jeongguk stepped over the threshold of Taehyung’s dining room, a breath hitched in his throat. A long table, laden with fresh fish, grilled meats, and delicacies of every sort, stretched across the centre of the room. Meanwhile, a maid flitted around like a moth, lighting the candles as she moved, before vanishing out the doors into the next room.

Taehyung was still nowhere to be seen - so Jeongguk made his way around the room, examining the pieces of art that hung from the walls of Taehyung’s dining room. One in particular caught his eye - it was a painting of the sky - but one rather uncharacteristic of traditional Japanese art. A swirl of colours burst forth from the rice paper - painting the skies and stars iridescent shades of blues, purples, and pinks. Jeongguk’s eyes scanned the paper, looking for the artist’s mark - and sure enough, there it was: Taehyung’s personal seal, at the corner of the paper.

“Jeongguk? Are you here?”

Jeongguk jumped a little as Taehyung bounded into the room through a set of doors that he hadn’t noticed prior to that moment.

“Sit down! I’m sorry - did you wait long?” Taehyung asked, pulling Jeongguk by his sleeve and making him sit down on a fluffy silk cushion at the head of the table. Jeongguk adjusted his collar awkwardly as Taehyung flopped onto the seat to his right.

“No, I just got here. But - uh, shouldn’t you be sitting, y’know, here?” Jeongguk gestured to his seat.

“Oh god no, you’re my guest! Now, hmm. What should we do? Are you hungry? Should we eat first?” Taehyung babbled on, his voice carrying a hint of anxiety.

Jeongguk reached out and caught Taehyung’s flailing wrist in his hand. “Tae - it’s just a birthday dinner. Don’t worry - even if we were sitting by the riverside eating rice cakes, it would be brilliant.”

Taehyung relaxed, and smiled gently at Jeongguk. “So, did you enjoy your day?” he asked, lifting his gold chopsticks to place a piece of fish on Jeongguk’s empty plate.

“The best, Tae - you really didn’t have to. And Seokjin - he’s simply the most brilliant steward ever.”

“Jin nii-san really does run this house - so I left you in his hands. I figured everything nii-san would end up creating for you would be nothing short of the most luxurious experience ever, since he pampers me so much too.”

They chattered on, about Taehyung’s life in the palace, and how he had spent his time growing up. Jeongguk realised, to his surprise, that though Taehyung and himself had grown so much closer in the last year, he knew precious little about what went on behind the red walls of the palace’s inner chambers.

“Jimin’s only allowed to come into the palace on special occasions - so we play in his household’s quarters. They’re always so kind to me - and his mom makes awesome food; but not as tasty as the food Jin nii-san cooks for us, of course.”

“Jin cooks?”

“Well, not strictly - he supervises the kitchens and tastes everything to make sure the chefs have gotten the taste just the way we like it. But my brother - Namjoon - he gets picky with his food at times, so Jin nii-san keeps having to come up with creative ways to get him to eat his vegetables!” Taehyung said, talking in between large bites of food.

Jeongguk watched amusedly as the young lord ate - marvelling at the speed at which he shovelled food into his mouth. It was decidedly unglamorous, and slightly disconcerting. Jeongguk had imagined Taehyung to be prim and proper at formal dining settings; not talking with his mouth full and speaking only in between courses. It was adorable, Jeongguk thought, the way he ate, chomping his food and puffing up his cheeks like a hamster. And it seemed that Taehyung had begun to treat Jeongguk very much unlike the courtiers of his House, or his peers - and more like someone with whom he could let down his guard.

It was hours before the boys made it through all eight courses of the meal. Jeongguk felt like he was fit to burst; his obi coiled uncomfortably tight around his waist, and he thought that another mouthful might actually make him sick. But a silver platter filled with exotic fruit, followed by several glasses of umeshu, had floated into the room in the hands of a serving maid - and Jeongguk thought that, just perhaps, there was room for dessert.

When Jeongguk had finished his share of the fruit, Taehyung rubbed his hands together, his eyes glittering with happiness.

“And now - I have a present for you! Well - presents…”

“Tae - no, you’ve given me enough. These clothes, all this food…”

“Jeonggukie,” Taehyung pouted, and Jeongguk sighed. There it was again - that look, on that face.

“Alright, what else have you got up your sleeve?”

Taehyung grinned, and rose from the table swiftly, before racing into the next room. He returned in double quick time, bearing a small box carefully in his hands.

“Open this one first!” he thrust a black brocade case into Jeongguk’s hands. Jeongguk weighed it in his hands, and tried to guess what it was, before Taehyung urged him to just open it.

Jeongguk undid the knot of the pouch - and a black pendant on a gold tassel slipped out of the satin case.

“Oh,” Jeongguk gasped, clasping the pendant in his hand. It was -

“A black wolf - for your family -”

Jeongguk gripped the pendant tightly, the cool ridges of it digging into his hands. The wolf that had flown on his family’s flags had been replicated to the last detail - the snarl of its jaws, and a silver inlay outlining its ferocious eyes. The Jeons rarely their raised their banners, the shame of a failed rebellion still lying heavily on their house’s honour - but here it was, the proud wolf, in his hands.

“My brother got me a pendant as well, when he went on a journey up the mountains,” Taehyung explained. “It’s the white wolf of my house on the tassel of my sword - you’ve seen it; and Jimin has the mountain lion of his house on his…”

Jeongguk stared at Taehyung, still speechless.

“I figured, you know, the best swordsman in our palace couldn’t be running around without some pretty ornament on his katana!” Taehyung said, smiling broadly, still. “Do you like it?”

“Y-yes, of course,” Jeongguk whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

“And that isn’t all!”

Jeongguk stared apprehensively at Taehyung as he reached into the sleeves of his kimono. “What else could you give me, that you haven’t already?”

Taehyung thrust a white envelope at Jeongguk, who received it with shaky hands.

Jeongguk opened the envelope carefully. On its rim was the seal of the Kim house, and in it was a short letter written in a refined script. The handwriting had a certain flourish to it - and Jeongguk knew at first glance that it wasn’t Taehyung’s.

“This is -”

“Read it!”

Jeongguk scanned the letter quickly, reading it aloud.

“Jeongguk, of the Jeon family, possesses great talent and immense maturity beyond his age. It is my wish that he be sent forth, to the Southernmost river of our lands. Jeon is to live in our residence there and oversee construction of the broken dam, until the beginning of winter. He will leave for the South as soon as possible. This is by order of the Lord of House Kim.”

Jeongguk’s brows knitted into a frown, as he looked at Taehyung questioningly. 

“Y-you, I mean, your brother - he’s sending me away?”

“Well - not quite.”

Jeongguk raised his eyebrows. “And this is supposed to be a present - how? I’m perfectly content in the residence - and, besides, am I really the best candidate for overseeing dam repairs?”

“Hold your horses, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk he set the letter down on the table, listening quietly.

“You will, indeed, set off tomorrow. But not to the South.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Hush. So, I disappeared for most of today because I had to ride East, to meet Namjoon at the outer walls of the city. I spoke to him at length about this particular ….issue - and he agreed that you should, at least, be allowed to go home, to the mountains. To visit your family, and care for your father.”

Hot tears streamed freely down Jeongguk’s cheeks, as his face crumpled with tears. “Tae - I - oh god…”

“The letter states that you’ll be going South - because the my brother’s head retainers would never let you leave otherwise. But, Jeonggukie, when you leave the castle walls, you’ll be free - to ride north, and go home. Well - of course, you’ll have to come back, eventually, and I’d be sad if you didn’t -”

Jeongguk pulled Taehyung close, burying his tear-stained face in the older boy’s kimono. Stunned, Taehyung wrapped his arms around Jeongguk’s broad, toned back, stroking it soothingly. Jeongguk babbled incomprehensible words of thanks, over and over, as he cried. His tears were soaking the silk of Taehyung’s clothes, but the elder boy paid no mind to it - as Jeongguk burrowed into his embrace, his chest wracked with sobs.

When Jeongguk’s tears had run dry, he wobbled to his feet, before falling to his knees and prostrating himself before Taehyung. Astounded, the latter reached for his arms, half-embarrassed and half-shocked, attempting to drag Jeongguk to his feet.

“Gukkie - what are you doing?”

“Kim Taehyung - I, Jeon Jeongguk, pledge myself - to you, and your House,” Jeongguk said, his voice shaking. “I may be the son of a disgraced family - but if you would honour me; from this day forth, my sword will be yours to command, my life will be yours to possess. In this life - and the next.”

Taehyung trembled, overcome with emotion, as he nodded, raising his hand to lift Jeongguk’s chin, and wipe the tears from the younger’s face.

“The honour is mine, Jeon Jeongguk. And from this day forth - no one will speak, again, of your family’s dishonour. And my life, Jeongguk - I place in your hands - in this life, and the next.”

They stood for a while, like this, until the silence and tension was broken by the sound of some familiar voices shouting.

“Taetae! Are we ready?” came the unmistakeable, slightly shrill yell of one Park Jimin, who Jeongguk was certain was hollering loud enough for the entire palace to hear.

“Oh no,” Jeongguk groaned. “Tae - you didn’t -”

“Well…I know you said you didn’t want me to tell the other boys that we were celebrating your birthday. But I figured - since we spoiled you all day, there wasn’t a chance that you’d object now,” Taehyung pulled Jeongguk to his feet, and rushed to the window.

“Taetae!” Jimin yelled from the ground floor of the Keep, jumping up and down on the spot and waving. “Are both you ready? Can we set it off?”

“Chimchim, Jeongguk’s here! Say hi!”

“Hey Jeongguk! Happy birthday!” From the sixth floor of the keep, Jeongguk could hardly make out their faces - but he saw them all looking up at him, waving, bearing lanterns to guide their way in the darkness. Jimin - the smallest one, obviously - waving to him, and Taehyun, Minho, Seungyoon - and, to his surprise, even Hanbin and Junhwe, all seemingly gathered in specific positions in the courtyard.

Jeongguk covered his face with his hands. “Oh goodness, this is the worst, you are the worst -”

“And three - two -” Jimin yelled.

Taehyung pulled Jeongguk’s hands away from his face, and Jeongguk gasped as the first flares split and crackled in the sky. From their place on the balcony, Jeongguk heard the telltale hiss of  lit gunpowder, paired with the gleeful shouts of the boys as they ran for cover - followed  several almighty booms that echoed throughout the courtyard.

The boys ran from point to point in the darkness, setting off a string of fireworks that burst forth from the courtyard and illuminated the skies before his eyes. Strings of red, green, blue, and gold fireworks exploded in a cloud of brilliance, peppering the skies with bursts of colour. For just a moment, Jeongguk thought, Taehyung had stolen the light from the distant stars - and brought them close to him. For him, a mere vassal who had lived his life in darkness, slinking about in the shadow of his house’s dishonour. He, who deserved so little, yet was given so much - by the grace of a reckless, irresistible boy.

“Thank you, Jeon Jeongguk,” Taehyung said, beside him, his hands coiling around his arm. “Thank you for being born.”

Jeongguk turned his face to Taehyung - his inky eyes afire with emotion.

Taehyung’s hand brushed against his - tentative, and unsure; his fingertips barely grazing Jeongguk’s. And it was he who closed the space between them, and slipped his fingers surreptitiously into the gaps in Taehyung’s; savouring the warmth and weight of the older boy’s hand in his.

Taehyung would never admit it - but as they stood on his terrace, two boys shivering in the cold summer breeze - he stole a glance at Jeongguk’s, and was greeted with a sight that took his breath away.

Jeongguk was laughing - his dark eyes filled with a genuine, honest, joy, as the fireworks illuminated the sky in crackling bursts of fire and smoke. He had watched, out of the corner of his eye, as Jeongguk stretched a hand out as far as he could - as if to catch a spark in his hands, to  preserve a sliver of this fleeting happiness.

Thank you, Jeongguk had said, his hand squeezing Taehyung’s, his voice filled with gratitude. For everything.

It’s no matter, Taehyung thought to himself. Because if that’s what it takes - I would light the heavens from corner to corner, just to see you smile again.

It was just two months since Jeongguk had ridden north, and Taehyung was beginning to regret it all.

He wasn’t quite sure if he was imagining it, but from the day Jeongguk departed Kagoshima, the weather had grown steadily colder. The trees in the palace gardens had begun to turn from a lush green to a fiery red - but Taehyung found no interest in the sights outside his window. He spent his time painting, writing poetry, and reading the books in Namjoon’s study - but he soon grew tired of his relatively sedentary routine.

The loneliness had crept up on him - and he knew very well why. 

The night of Jeongguk’s birthday, they had stayed up all night, watching the clouds shift across the sky. Just before the dawn broke, Jeongguk had slowly drifted off, leaning his cheek on Taehyung’s shoulder. And Taehyung had watched, his tired eyes widening in wonder - as Jeongguk slept, As the sun’s first rays illuminated and warmed Jeongguk’s honey-coloured skin - Taehyung had held his breath - and reached out, just a little, to caress Jeongguk’s cheek. He looked so innocent that way - his cherry lips opened slightly as he breathed, and his lids fluttering as he slept.

If only we could always be this way, Taehyung had thought. Innocent.

But he had watched, later that day, from the castle walls, as Jeongguk secured his belongings to his horse, and galloped out of the castle gates. He had clutched his coat a little tighter around him, as his eyes followed Jeongguk’s silhouette - until the boy had disappeared into the distance.

I’ll be back, Jeongguk had said. Before the first snowflake falls.

In the cold autumn months that followed, Taehyung found himself wrapping up in as many layers as possible, and riding his prized white stallion out of the castle, and all the way to the bamboo grove. The grove was no longer a lush green - but shades of auburn and ochre. Taehyung practised his sword routines, still - the muscle memory guiding his movements. At times, he would close his eyes, and listen to Jeongguk’s voice as it echoed in his mind: “Tae - watch the left; straighten your hand - now turn - brilliant.”

Most of the other boys had, too, turned eighteen - and were assigned to roles in their families as well. Even Jimin had less time to play with him, now that he worked at his father’s side at the armoury. It was only on weekends that Jimin found the time to venture into the palace - where they would eat and drink to their heart’s content, before promptly passing out at one of the castle’s numerous pavilions.

Jimin, however, had been glad to have Taehyung all to himself again - and Taehyung was happy to spend his weekend evenings at long drinking sessions, with his head pillowed on Jimin’s knee.

“You’d always disappeared and gone off to practice your sword-fighting,” Jimin said as he ran his hands through Taehyung’s hair, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness. “And now I know that of all people, you’d gone off with Jeon Jeongguk.”

“What’s wrong with Jeongguk?”

Jimin scoffed, pushing Taehyung off his lap. “He isn’t me.”

Taehyung laughed, and sat up to take another deep swig straight from the sake bottle, before passing it over to Jimin. “He’s better at sword-fighting than you are, admit it.”

Jimin gave a noncommittal grunt. “Sword-fighting. If that isn’t a euphemism for something else…”

Jimin dodged the pastry that Taehyung flung at his head, and stuck out his tongue at the latter. “There’s something going on, isn’t there? You and Jeon.”

“What are you talking about?” Taehyung said quickly, busying himself with demolishing another piece of fruit.

“You know what I mean. You’ve been miserable since he left after his birthday.”

“Am not.”

“God, you are. Could you be more obsessed with him? Gosh, he’s just an overgrown rabbit with a terrible temper.”

Taehyung snorted. “I thought you were okay with him now.”

“Doesn’t make him less of a big-nosed rabbit.”

Taehyung shook his head in resignation. “Well - to correct you - I don’t miss Jeongguk.”

Jimin eyed Taehyung skeptically. “So you haven’t been painting him -”

“No.”

“Or writing poetry about him -”

“No, most definitely not, what the hell -”

“Or running out of the castle at every opportunity to reminisce at your secret meeting place?”

Taehyung turned to stare at Jimin, startled.

“Taetae, the stables are next to the armoury building. You really can’t expect me to not notice you taking Haku-sama out all the time at odd hours of the day and not follow you,” Jimin tilted the bottle of sake back, and drank it to the last drop. “Damn it, I need another few drinks for this conversation.”

Taehyung sighed, and grabbed a bottle of umeshu, pouring Jimin and himself a glass each.

“Nothing happened, or is happening, for that matter. And you know very well who I am - and what I can, or cannot do. We’re just really close friends.”

Jimin nodded, and sighed. While bonds between young samurai had been encouraged at youth, Taehyung was the heir to a noble family - and that meant an arranged marriage to a woman of distinction at some point in the future. Whatever Taehyung thought or felt about Jeongguk was immaterial; because all the latter could ever hope to be was a loyal servant to Taehyung. It was the world they lived in, and the way things were.

“Besides,” Taehyung said, lifting his glass to his lips. “I don’t even know if he even feels anything beyond loyalty or gratitude toward me. And no amount of, well, missing him is going to change how he thinks.”

Jimin choked on his wine. “You can’t seriously be that obtuse.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, we all have,” Jimin said. “And did you really think that someone like Jeongguk, who had hardly spoken more than ten sentences to any of us - except to insult us, of course - would spend so much of his personal time helping you get better at the katana?”

Taehyung stared, dumbfounded, at Jimin, who nodded sagely, sipping on his wine.

“You’re talking nonsense again, Chimchim.”

“Nope. When it comes to matters of the heart, especially yours: I, Park Jimin, know all, and see all, ” Jimin said. “And I can tell you this much - he’s probably sitting at his window moping away, wearing a kimono as black as the colour of his soul - and missing you, just as much.”

The first snow of the winter arrived early that year, blanketing the residence in white. Taehyung had watched from his window, swaddled in blankets, as flurries of downy snowflakes descended from the sky. Across the gardens, he spied Seokjin shuffling through the ice, instructing the servants to shovel the snow off the walking paths before, god forbid, Namjoon slipped on it.

The castle had been filled with excitement in the last week, in preparation for the annual winter feast. The Kims had made it a tradition for generations, where which a grand banquet would be held to mark the commencement of winter. This year, it seemed, they were sparing no expense. Casks of wine, and carts laden with meat and produce had made their way through the Southern gates and into the palace kitchens; and Seokjin had never been busier.

Taehyung had, decidedly, given him a wide berth those few days. Namjoon had been away for a week, to Seokjin’s annoyance - and had left the banquet preparations in Seokjin’s hands. The start of winter often signalled the end of the Lord’s travel until spring - so Taehyung did not know the reason for his brother’s sudden departure - but he surmised that it must have been something important enough for Namjoon to brave the icy winds on the high road.

It was icy out there, indeed - and Taehyung shivered even next to the coal burner in his room that the maids constantly tended to. Yet everyday, without fail, he pulled his boots and coats on and scaled the castle’s northern walls - casting his gaze as far as he could see. But day after day, all he could see were the mountains in the distance, and the mist that obscured his view of the forest. Day after day - and still, no sign of Jeongguk.

“You don’t actually have to go all the way up there,” Jimin had said. “They do sound the horn when the gates are opened, you know.”

“They sound the horn whenever the gates are opened, how would I know if it was the North gate? Or even him for that matter?”

“Do you honestly think we wouldn’t realise if Jeongguk was back? I’m sure we’d feel an icy draft and the howls of the dead heralding his arrival.”

At that, Taehyung had punched Jimin on the shoulder, inciting a hearty laugh from his best friend.

And despite Seokjin and Jimin’s chiding - Taehyung had continued to scale the walls every day, his teeth chattering and lips turning blue in the cold. And there he waited - for a lone rider to appear in the distance.

Today is no different, Taehyung thought, as he watched the deep purple of the sunset bleed into the clouds. But it was then - when Taehyung had gathered his blankets around him resigned himself to another day of waiting - when the lone bellow of the horn had resounded across the palace grounds, signalling the sighting of an approaching rider. 

It wasn’t the east, west or south gates - the sound of the horn had come from the north. He was sure of it. 

Taehyung leapt to his feet, his heart in his throat. His fingers shaking with excitement, he had thrown on his coat, and pulled his fur boots on, before hurtling out of his chambers and down the stairs of the keep. Maids and manservants hopped and scurried out of the young lord’s way as he ran through the corridors of the inner and outer palaces - before arriving in the North yard, his breaths coming hard and heavy as he skid to a halt.

He felt his heart thumping loudly in his chest, as he strained his eyes to see who it was. The snow still fell hard and fast, and Taehyung could hardly see the rider from where he stood. But then he came - galloping into the yard on a black stallion.

Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat, as he stood rooted to the ground, gazing at that unmistakeable figure as he dismounted from his horse. Then all at once - the other man was racing toward him - his cheeks pink from the cold; those familiar, dark eyes sparkling with laughter - and Taehyung was opening his arms to welcome him.

“There you are,” Taehyung whispered, choking back tears. “I’ve been waiting for you, all this time.”

Taehyung bundled Jeongguk indoors, and piled all his blankets on Jeongguk before shoving him onto a silk cushion as close to the coal burner as possible. He could still feel the boy shivering under his touch - and his hands were still trembling as he rubbed them together.

Taehyung yelled for a servant to bring soup and a flask of hot sake - both of which Jeongguk downed quickly, his teeth still chattering.

“God, you’re like a block of ice,” Taehyung said, as he rinsed a towel in hot water before pressing it into Jeongguk’s nearly-frostbitten fingers.

“I rode day and night through a forest in the thick of winter, of course I’m freezing,” Jeongguk said, his voice still shaking, as he defrosted before the fire, his lips gradually regaining their colour.

“Why -” 

“Well I promised you I’d be back before the first snowfall - but an avalanche blocked off the mountain road. I had to make a detour through a valley instead - and that took me another three days - but I got here, in the end.”

Jeongguk shivered, again, at the thought of his journey through the valley - and the nights he spent huddled up next to his horse, stoking the embers of a dying fire.

“So, I’m here now; but I said I would return before the first snowflake. It seems that I should work harder at keeping my promises.”

“You’re a madman,” Taehyung said, shaking his head in disbelief. “An absolutely, certifiable madman.”

Jeongguk chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. “Only for you, my lord.”

Taehyung blushed, and swallowed the lump in his throat - not audibly, he hoped - and busied himself with fanning the coal to make the room warmer. Meanwhile, Jeongguk shifted awkwardly, fumbling with the knots on a large travel bundle that had previously been secured to his back.

“Oh - uh, I brought… something back for you. From the - uh, North. My father - he was well enough to accompany me on a short hunting trip in the autumn. Forgive me if I’ve overstepped my boundaries, but I thought it would look nice on you, at the winter feast.”

Taehyung gawked in open-mouthed surprise at the glistening white wolf pelt that Jeongguk was laying at his feet.

“I know down here in the south these things are… uh… precious, because you don’t have, y’know, wolves, and stuff. B-but… I know your birthday is coming - and, y’know, hell, I don’t know where to find the money to get you fireworks.”

Taehyung ran his fingers along the surface of the fur - marvelling at its silky smoothness. It had been a large, white wolf - big enough to make a full-sized cloak. Taehyung only wondered what lengths Jeongguk had gone through to hunt it down. He thought of Jeongguk - slinking through the frigid mountains of the North for miles, stalking the trail of the wolf. Jeongguk -  an arrow pulled taut in his hands, hunting a pelt for him.

Namjoon’s words echoed in his mind, as he pulled the fur coat on, fastening it about his shoulders. Pelts from the animals we hunt are given to people. People that are special, to us. People we want to bring under our protection.

“I mean, you don’t have to wear it - of course you don’t, if it’s ugly - but I wanted to thank you. For letting me go home,” Jeongguk babbled on, his hands moving nervously as he spoke, “My father - he was so grateful, so happy to see me home. And my mother, she cried - and wished all of the blessings of the heavens on your house for your benevolence. And I’m so sorry if the cloak is ugly - the tailors in the North, they do things diff-”

Jeongguk felt the air being knocked out of him as Taehyung enveloped him in a fierce embrace.

“If you want to protect me,” Taehyung mumbled, inhaling the scent of Jeongguk’s hair as he held him close. “You can just say it.”

Jeongguk stiffened, pulling away a little. “I don’t know what right I have, to be demanding such a thing - I mean, I’m just -”

Jeongguk’s words died on his tongue as Taehyung’s hot, soft lips pressed, feather-light against his own. Taehyung’s warm hands caressed the sharp curve of his jaw, curling around his neck and pulling him closer. And in that moment, all Jeongguk could hear was the pounding of his heart in his throat - and oh, the heat, a fire kindling in his heart, that threatened to burn him from within.

Taehyung’s lips moved against his dry, chapped ones - and as Jeongguk closed his eyes and returned the kiss. Taehyung let out a little gasp as Jeongguk’s fingers pulled at his hair. His lips parted, ever so eagerly, for Jeongguk to lick into his mouth; the younger’s teeth grazing Taehyung’s bottom lip.

Jeongguk felt an odd sense of déjà vu - as though they had done this before, in another world, a thousand times over. But here he was - in Taehyung’s arms, and Taehyung, Taehyung, was kissing him - and his mind went blissfully blank.

All the lights in the castle, it seemed, had been illuminated this night. Taehyung skipped excitedly along the corridors of the castle, Jeongguk at his side. He had worn a new kimono - a splendid, red outfit that Seokjin had laid out for him that day. The blood-red of the kimono had contrasted perfectly with his white fur coat, and Seokjin had looked at him approvingly as he passed him in the hallway.

“You look great, Taetae!” Minho had said when he met them in the gardens, and Jeongguk stiffened a little beside Taehyung. That had not gone unnoticed, as Taehyung sniggered a little at Jeongguk’s jealousy.

Jeongguk had been anxious all day, despite Taehyung’s best attempts to soothe his nerves. He had received an order from Namjoon (through Seokjin, of course), that he was to attend the feast, and be seated with the senior retainers of House Kim. Jeongguk had attempted, in vain, to turn the invitation down - but a reproachful glare from Seokjin, paired with Taehyung’s enthusiastic egging-on - had foiled his plans of pretending to be as invisible as possible at the feast.

So, it was with great trepidation that Jeongguk made his way through the palace gardens, bowing to the generals of House Kim as Taehyung introduced him, his hands nervously playing with the black wolf pendant on his katana.

“You’ll do great, Gukkie,” Taehyung said.

“Easy for you to say,” Jeongguk said, between gritted teeth. “You’re the heir. I’m like a fish out of water, here.”

Taehyung smiled, resting a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Relax, Jeongguk, it’s just a feast. Now, just smile and nod…”

Jeongguk grimaced, and contented himself with spacing out as Taehyung entertained an endless stream of guests. The sound of a gong soon signalled the commencement of the feast, and Jeongguk sighed in relief at being released from what was fast becoming an extremely awkward conversation with Jimin’s father.

Jeongguk nodded at Taehyung, before leaving his side to take his place with the other young samurai. As he settled in next to Jimin, he saw Taehyung slip into the seat beside his brother, Namjoon.

Jeongguk had never seen Namjoon up close - save for the few occasions when he saw the Lord’s detail riding into the palace. It surprised him how young the Lord looked, clad in a white and gold kimono. From Taehyung’s stories of his political acumen and his battle experience, he had imagined someone tired and battle-scarred, not the scholarly, slightly gangly man who tripped a little as he settled into his chair at the head of the room.

Seokjin stood behind Namjoon and Taehyung, his imposing figure impossibly resplendent in his robes and his rich auburn fox furs. Jeongguk observed, fascinated, as he clapped - signalling the entry of fifty maids bearing tray upon tray of delicacies. Jeongguk smiled secretly as he observed Taehyung’s hazel eyes shining with excitement at the sight of good food.

“Mmm,” Jimin remarked, beside him, reaching for a fat chunk of swordfish sashimi. “This is legendary.”

“Indeed it is,” Jeongguk replied. Jimin and himself had, too, slipped into a comfortable routine of being cordial to each other, and Jeongguk found that he did very much enjoy the company of the pint-sized youth.

“Life in the armoury treating you well?” Jeongguk asked.

The older man groaned. “Gosh, don’t speak of it - my father made me study all the hundred different types of arrows that we stored and their various purposes. My head hurts at the thought of it.

Jeongguk smirked. “So I’ve heard - Master Park was telling me what success you’ve had with it so far.”

Jimin glared at him. “Don’t think I won’t beat you over the head, Jeon Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk chuckled, and glanced across the room at Taehyung - who was engaged in what seemed to be an animated conversation with his brother.

“Do you know what’s going to happen tonight?” Jimin asked, beckoning a maid over to refill his and Jeongguk’s glasses.

“No - what do you mean?”

“Well - there’ve been, I don’t know - rumours, in the castle, that there’s going to be a big announcement at the feast. We’ve no idea what it is, though. But I thought you might.”

“I’m as much in the dark as you are, Park,” Jeongguk replied, his brows furrowed.

It was then that the Namjoon had risen to his feet, clearing his throat. The room fell silent, the chatter dying away as the Lord raised his hands in a toast.

“Welcome, my friends and elders,” Namjoon said, his voice deep and unwavering. “I thank you for honouring me by your attendance at this feast. Let us drink - to the coming of winter, and to the health of our House.”

Murmurs of assent echoed around the room, as the men raised their glasses and returned the toast.

Namjoon set his glass down on the table, and continued.

“On this joyous occasion, I would like to make something known - a fact that only some of my closest companions have been privy to. As you all know, I came of age last spring - and as a man, it is only right that I fulfil my responsibilities as Lord of the House.”

“As such, it is my pleasure to announce my imminent nuptials with Lady Akemi, of House Keita. Over the last year, we have worked hard to maintain the peace in this land against the Fujiwara incursions. This union will seal what I hope to be a lasting bond between our noble houses.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped - and he whirled around in his seat to look at Seokjin. For a split second, he glimpsed what looked like a mixture of shock and betrayal on Seokjin’s face, before the older man regained his composure, his fists clenched tight at his sides.

“The wedding will take place at the end of spring. I ask for the blessings of the court,” Namjoon said.

It was Hoseok who first rose to his feet, a glass of wine ready in his hand. “Many congratulations to you, Lord Kim. May this marriage bring our House much fortune and happiness.”

Namjoon nodded, and sat, as other cheers resounded from the other retainers of the house. Taehyung eyed his brother nervously - noticing the difficulty at which he kept a smile on his face and acknowledged the toasts.

Exhaling, Taehyung turned to look at Seokjin again - but found, instead, another manservant behind his brother.

As discreetly and elegantly as he always moved - Seokjin had gone.

Winter melted into spring, but though the gardens had come back to life, the palace grounds had not. Despite living in the keep with his brother, Taehyung rarely saw him - as he stayed holed up in his quarters alone. Meanwhile, Seokjin had ceased to visit the keep - choosing to stay in the kitchens and send servants to serve them instead.

Taehyung had tried to visit him, of course. Yet every time he arrived at the kitchens, he would be greeted by a pale, tired Seokjin, who always, somehow, looked thinner from when he saw him last. When Taehyung beseeched him to make his way back to the keep some day, Seokjin always smiled wanly, his eyes empty, and refused.

Taehyung had held his tongue - until the bride, herself, had arrived at the palace. Seokjin and Taehyung had welcomed the procession at the gates - and Taehyung had been shocked when he first set eyes on the Keita girl. She was a slight, fragile wisp of a girl - barely fourteen, shivering in apparent terror as they approached her; and not at all the image of a happy bride.

“This isn’t right, nii-san,” Taehyung said, running after Seokjin.

Seokjin shrugged, his face impassive and seemingly unperturbed.

“Talk to Namjoon,” Taehyung had urged Jin. “Just talk to him, tell him how you feel…”

“The lord’s private chambers, are not the place for a servant like myself to visit,” he would say, his voice flat and lifeless. “Not anymore.”

Nothing Taehyung said would convince him to enter the Kim residence; not when the wedding drew closer every day. But Seokjin himself had seen that ornate gifts of betrothal had been sent to the Keita family. He had even checked the cases himself, and personally oversaw the delivery of the food for the wedding banquet.

On the eve of the wedding, Jeongguk found himself walking through the gardens, on his way out of the keep, when he spied Seokjin sitting alone at a pavilion. Puzzled, he crossed the bridge to get to him - and saw the older man, working by candlelight, sewing pearls onto the hem of the wedding kimono.

“Onii-sama,” Jeongguk said, cautiously.

Seokjin jumped, startled; and relaxed when he realised it was Jeongguk.

“Ah, Jeongguk. What brings you here this hour of the night?”

“Taehyung needed my help with choosing what to wear, for tomorrow.”

“I see,” Seokjin said, smiling a little. “He’s a demanding one, our little Taetae. I believe you will both look splendid at the banquet.”

Jeongguk nodded, as he knelt beside Seokjin - who had picked up another pearl and resumed his work.

“Onii-sama, why are you doing this?”

Seokjin’s shoulders stiffened, as his hands paused over the needlework.

“I’m just doing my duty to the House, Jeongguk,” Seokjin said, his voice cold. “Nothing more.”

“Forgive me, but Taehyung told me - about you. How you left home, and devoted yourself to Lord Kim. And I understand, how you feel - you know I do. But why do you do this: go out of your way to make yourself miserable?”

Seokjin sighed, before turning to Jeongguk, his eyes filled with an unspeakable sadness.

“In my years here, I have created many beautiful things for Namjoon,” Seokjin said softly, running his hands over the wedding kimono. “The flowers in the garden, the food he eats, the clothes he wears.”

“And I may deceive myself with illusory; and hold on to the false belief that I could create a beautiful world for him. But he is a lord - and he has responsibilities to fulfil, lands to defend, legacies to create. And I - I am just one man -”

Jeongguk reached out, and placed his hand over Seokjin’s trembling ones, steadying his grip as he ended the thread.

“All flowers die, and all beauty fades,” Seokjin said, his voice breaking. “But my duty is this - to give the Lord every last sliver of splendour that floats my way. To give him all that my worthless hands can salvage from this meaningless world.”

It was the night of the wedding - and the keep lit from tower to cellar, a lantern light burning in every window. Strains of music wafted through the gardens, and the drunken laughter of men echoed in the air. The wedding ceremony had been a grand affair - one to remember, for sure; the Lord and his retainers dressed to the nines.

The maids were retiring to their quarters after serving the last course at the banquet; having been dismissed from the hall after a long day’s work. But something caught the eye of one of the maids as she hurried along - the lights in the chief steward’s halls had been snuffed out, while every other fire in the castle was ablaze.

Afraid of being reprimanded for failing to keep the fires going, the maid scurried toward the doors, sliding the heavy panels open to gain entry to the room. As she lit a flame in the corner, and moved to light the lanterns by the windows, she spotted the chief steward, seemingly slumped on his desk.

“Sir?” she squeaked nervously. “I’m sorry to disturb you, I was just lighting the -”

The maid moved closer. Seeing what lay on the desk, she let out a bloodcurdling shriek - screaming for someone, anyone, to help.

The guards came running, and found Seokjin - streaks of crimson streaming from his wrists. His soft brown eyes were closed - tears still drying at the corners. If not for the deep cuts on his arms, he looked like he had fallen asleep in his chair - his lifeless fingers still lingering on the fox fur pelt that lay over his lap.

Taehyung had seen his brother cry only twice. Once, when they received news that his father and elder brothers had been killed in the Rebellion. And now, when he clutched Seokjin’s hands, fat teardrops flowing freely down his cheeks.

“Apologies, my lord - we have done all we can,” the physicians had said, bowing low as they retreated from the chamber. “He will live, if he survives the night.”

Taehyung had sat, dumbstruck, on the floor - staring at Seokjin’s bloodless countenance.  He could only watch as his brother, still clad in his wedding robes, knelt at the bedside, his hand desperately clutching Seokjin’s - kissing apology after apology onto his cold skin.

Forgive me - Seokjin’s note had read - I couldn’t imagine a world without you.

“You idiot,” Namjoon said, through his tears. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could never imagine living in a world without you, too.”

Jeongguk had searched the entirety of the castle, but Taehyung was nowhere to be found. 

He had rushed into the inner palaces at first light, after learning of what happened to Seokjin. Yet when he reached the gates of the keep, he had been turned away by the guards.

“The younger Lord Kim isn’t in the Keep, and the Lord is refusing all visitors,” the guard had said, advising him to search elsewhere for Taehyung.

It was a long shot - but Jeongguk found himself leaping onto his horse and galloping out the West gate, toward their spot by the lake. As he approached the grove, he breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Taehyung’s white stallion secured a little ways down the path - and its master pacing restlessly in the grove.

“Taetae,” Jeongguk called softly, dismounting from his horse and jogging over to his side.

Taehyung looked up, his tired eyes lighting up as he noticed Jeongguk.

“Jeonggukie,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “How did you know to come here?”

“I had an inkling,” Jeongguk said, enveloping Taehyung in a tight embrace, inhaling the familiar, lily-scent of his hair. “I just needed to know you were alright.”

Taehyung nodded, wrapping his arms around Jeongguk’s slim waist.

“And… Jin… is he?”

Taehyung sighed, releasing Jeongguk from his hug.

“He’s awake, but terribly weak - he lost a lot of blood.”

Jeongguk exhaled. “That’s - good to hear. And your brother?”

“At his side.”

As they walked, Taehyung intertwined his fingers with Jeongguk’s, and pulled him closer. Jeongguk smiled, as Taehyung leaned his head against his shoulder sleepily, their hands wrapped tightly together.

“Jeongguk, I have something to say.”

Jeongguk stopped, raising an eyebrow. “What is it, Taetae?”

Taehyung took a deep breath, tilting his chin upward, meeting Jeongguk’s dark eyes with his own.

“When Seokjin… did that, he left a note. Saying everything that he never had - all those unspoken words, that he had held close to his heart. And I saw my brother so heartbroken, Jeongguk - over the fact that he’d never had the chance to tell Jin he loved him.”

Jeongguk looked at Taehyung concernedly, caressing his cheek. “Go on.”

“I wanted to tell you - because I don’t want to ever regret anything. I don’t know why I ever waited to say this.”

Jeongguk’s heart skipped a beat, as Taehyung leaned just a little closer, his lips just an inch from his own.

“My heart is yours, Jeon Jeongguk. And I want you to know - right now - that a life without you in it is no life at all.”

Jeongguk’s let out the breath that he didn’t know he had been holding, and pressed his lips softly against Taehyung’s. Jeongguk smiled into the kiss as he pulled Taehyung even closer, feeling the other boy’s hands come to rest on his chest, and kissed him even harder, until they were both breathless. As if to say - my heart is yours, too - it’s been yours, for a long time. 

Life had gone back to normal - well, as normal as life in the palace had ever been - when summer came around. Seokjin convalesced in private in the east wing of the keep, and had recovered slowly over the months - the angry red scars on his skin fading to white as time passed. Namjoon, as it turned out, was a better nurse than expected.

His wife - the Keita girl - had been sent to a temple in the mountains, away from the Kim castle, due to her young age. Apparently, this arrangement had been negotiated even before the wedding - a fact that none of them had discovered because Seokjin hadn’t asked Namjoon.

“Did you really think I had fallen in love with a fourteen year old?” Namjoon had asked Seokjin, incredulous, as the latter eyed him reproachfully, before leaning forward to swallow another mouthful of tonic soup.

Taehyung admired his brother’s devotion, and envied how much time the two got to spend together. Whenever Namjoon wasn’t travelling to the city to examine the progress on wall repair works, or holding meetings with the generals, he stuck close to Seokjin’s side - feeding him luxurious meals of healthy soups, meat, and fruits, the same way Seokjin had done all those years.

Taehyung wished he had more time with Jeongguk - but the latter had been drafted to work for Hoseok as the apprentice to the Master of War. Jeongguk now spent his days pacing the yard, running the troops through basic drills, and taking on some of Hoseok’s simpler duties. It was all well and good, though, Taehyung thought - because the hard work and constant sunshine had made Jeongguk even more muscly and tanned - a welcome change that he thanked Hoseok and his punishing work schedule for.

But trouble was brewing - even Taehyung knew it. Jeongguk had accompanied Hoseok to several war councils, and he always left the meetings looking worried. When Taehyung asked, Jeongguk told him of intense, violent skirmishes between the combined Kim and Keita forces and guerrilla Fujiwara troops.

“They’re coming closer,” Jeongguk said. “And one day, they’ll be right at our doorstep, baying for our blood. Despite our best efforts, one day, we may have a war on our hands.”

Taehyung didn’t quite believe it - until Namjoon called him to his study one day, his countenance stormy as he pored over the map of their family’s forces.

“Tae - I trust you do know about the threat we face, from the Fujiwara clan,” Namjoon said, his voice a low growl. “And it seems that our alliance with the Keitas hasn’t quite warned them off.”

“I am aware,” Taehyung said. “So, what will you do?”

“You are a man now, Taehyung,” Namjoon said seriously. “And I feel confident that you will have the strength to lead the house well.”

“Where are you going, nii-san?” Taehyung questioned, his voice filled with worry.

“I’m going East, to Edo,” Namjoon said. “I have to bring Jin away, and house him in our Edo residence, far from any threat of battle. And, while I am there, I will bring this treasonous behaviour to the Emperor’s attention, and plead for his aid.”

“It will be a month before I reach Edo, and another before I return,” Namjoon continued. “And in that time, you will be the lord of this house. No doubt, you will have Jeongguk, and Hoseok, and many of the other retainers here with you… but in case of an attack…”

“I will not abandon our people, or our land, nii-san,” Taehyung said firmly. “That, you can be sure of.”

Namjoon beamed proudly at Taehyung, resting a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder.

“I have every confidence in you.”

The responsibility of a Lord weighed heavily on Taehyung’s shoulders. Night after night, he stayed up to the wee hours of the morning, locked up in the war room with the retainers of his house. It had barely been a month, and their forces had been besieged heavily from the South, as the Fujiwaras marched inward, burning and pillaging across their land.

“We’ve lost a few thousand men since the invasion began,” Hoseok said. “We need to act, fast.”

“Send a messenger West,” Jeongguk suggested. “To House Matsumoto. Request their aid.”

“It’ll come too late,” General Park had said. “We’re cut off by mountains in the West. By the time they get here, the castle will be burnt to the ground.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Taehyung said, his voice laden with exhaustion. “Send an envoy, quick. And there’s nothing we can do, at this point - but pray, that Namjoon gets back fast.”

Jeongguk nodded, and beckoned a messenger toward him, quickly drafting out a message to the Matsumoto clan, before pushing it across the table for Taehyung to validate with his seal.

Just then, a messenger burst into the room, panting hard.

“My Lord…”

Taehyung beckoned him forth. “What is it? Speak at once.”

“Our scouts - they spotted lights in the distance, coming from the North-West. We believe the Keitas - they might have joined forces with the Fujiwaras, and turned against us.”

“Damn them all,” Hoseok roared, smashing his fist on the table. “The bastards… How many?”

“Ten thousand strong or so, Master. And marching, fast - it seems they have encampments at the foothills near Senso.”

Taehyung slumped in his seat, while Hoseok and Jeongguk scrambled to examine the map.

“Well, we have a way out,” Jeongguk said, his voice calm and measured.

“Yes, it appears we do,” Hoseok concurred, lifting his eyes to Jeongguk’s face.

The boy nodded, his jaw clenched. “My lord, look at this map. If the intelligence is correct, the encampment is half a mile away from the Keita forces. If one of us leads a sizeable force of troops along the Eastern flank, cutting into the Northern mountains and attacking them from behind, we could engage them from the side. We would sustain heavy losses - but it would throw them off.”

“It would be a sufficient distraction,” Hoseok said. “And if the Matsumotos come to our aid - they could go down, south-west, and meet with our forces. The rest of our battalion will be split - we would lead the mass of our forces south, and engage the Fujiwaras as well.”

Taehyung surveyed the map, scrutinising where Jeongguk and Hoseok had moved their army pieces. “I-it could work,” he stammered.

“Now the question is - who’s going to lead the mission North?”

Silence hung thick in the air, as the retainers eyed each other apprehensively. Taehyung looked at all their faces - and he could not bring himself to nominate any one person on what would, doubtlessly, be a mission bordering on suicide.

“I’ll do it.”

Taehyung’s head whipped to his left, and he stared at Jeongguk, flabbergasted, as the younger man rose to his feet.

“I am a Jeon of the North - I know the mountains like the back of my hand. I will do it. There is no better choice.”

“No,” Taehyung murmured. “No - there h-has - there has to be some other way.”

Hoseok sighed, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not, my Lord.”

“N-no,” Taehyung said. “I w-won’t - I won’t allow it.”

“My Lord,” the other retainers rose to their feet. “Master Jeon has bravely volunteered. It would be a dishonour to deny a samurai of his will to fight for you in battle.”

Jeongguk fell to one knee - his jet-black eyes meeting Taehyung’s.

“My lord - this, I must do. Allow me to carry out my pledge to you.”

The words choked in Taehyung’s throat - as he remembered Jeongguk kneeling before him - and the words they exchanged.

In this life - and the next.

“You have about two hours before dawn breaks,” Hoseok said, walking Jeongguk to his room. “I will… leave you to prepare yourself.”

Jeongguk nodded, and bowed, before closing the door of his room behind him. There was little to do, really, he thought. Jeongguk undid the obi of his palace robes, and folded them neatly by the window, before reaching for his black, battle wear.

As Jeongguk fastened his armour to his body, piece by piece, he looked out his window, and marvelled at the sight before his eyes.

The cherry blossoms had begun to blossom outside his window like April snow, falling featherlight on his fingertips. Jeongguk wished that Taehyung could see it - there weren’t any cherry blossom trees inside the inner palace. Jeongguk yearned for a day - where he and Taehyung could be boys again, wandering the bamboo forest of the West Lake, hand in hand; where Taehyung could show him all the beauty he had yet to see.

All flowers die, someday, Jeongguk remembered. And this is my duty.

Taehyung stood at his balcony alone, staring out into the sheer darkness that stretched out far beneath him.

How long had it been since? Taehyung mused, as he recalled how the lights of the outer palace had once twinkled in the distance. The palace was now pitch-black - a castle under siege; and the idyllic years of boyhood had vanished between Taehyung’s fingers.

They had been so young then, he and Jeongguk. Taehyung wanted nothing more than to turn back time - to relive that night - when they stood right there, their hands outstretched in excitement, as the fireworks split into starbursts that fell to the earth.

They were so young, Taehyung thought. Too young to fight, too young to die.

His train of thought was broken, as the door of his chambers slid open quietly. There he stood, proudly - Jeongguk, in his shiny, new armour. Jeongguk, going to war for him.

“Jeongguk,” Taehyung’s voice shook in anguish as the younger man approached.

“Tae…” Jeongguk strode swiftly across the room, and folded Taehyung’s slim body in his arms.

There they stood, for a while - until a war horn sounded urgently in the distance. As Jeongguk started to shift in their embrace, Taehyung clung to him, pressing something into Jeongguk’s palms.

“T-this - is for you.”

Jeongguk opened his palm, and in it lay the white wolf pendant.

“I want you,” Taehyung said, between soft sobs, “to keep this with you - and return it to me, when I see you again.”

Jeongguk’s bottom lip quivered, as he nodded. With shaking hands, he reached for his katana, and detached the tassle of the black wolf from his sword, pushing it into Taehyung’s hands.

“And this is my promise,” Jeongguk said, resting his forehead against Taehyung’s, his thumbs wiping the tears away from Taehyung’s cheeks. “That we will meet again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Jeonggukie,” Taehyung said softly, his bottom lip trembling as he spoke.

“I swear it,” Jeongguk said, taking Taehyung’s hands in his own, his eyes blazing with determination. “By the gods above.”

Taehyung shivered, his hands gripping Jeongguk’s so tightly it hurt.

“And if I ever lose you,” Taehyung said, his voice barely a whimper. “I will search the ends of the earth to find you again - until the mountains turn to dust, and the rivers run dry.”

Jeongguk nodded, his eyes welling up with tears, as he lifted his face to smile, once more, at Taehyung. With great effort, he pulled his hands away from Taehyung’s - before kneeling before Taehyung, and bowing once, twice, and thrice. Taehyung choked back tears, and lifted his chin, determinedly, his eyes meeting Jeongguk’s.

“Farewell, my lord,” Jeongguk whispered, his voice cracking. “Until we meet again.”

Jeongguk walked to the North yard, his steps brisk but unhurried. His battle helmet was tucked under his arm, and he gripped his longsword in his right hand, the white jade pendant cool in his palm. On his back, he had fastened a quiver of arrows and a bow - though he doubted they would be of much use in battle.

As he approached the yard, he spotted Hoseok, holding onto Haku-sama’s tether. He bowed to his teacher, who greeted him with a grim smile.

“Jeon.”

“Master Jung. Thank you… for coming,” Jeongguk said.

“You know the plan, Jeon. Ride hard, north - and do your best to lead them away. Light the flares when you’re half a mile out from the camp - it’ll attract their attention. Then -”

“- try to stay alive,” Jeongguk said, smirking. “I know the plan, Master Jung.”

Hoseok laughed. “If it helps - you were my best student, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk returned the smile, before striding past Hoseok toward Taehyung’s horse.

“Hello, Haku-sama,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. The horse harrumphed, pawing the ground restlessly with its right hoof.

Jeongguk patted the white stallion, before swinging his foot into the stirrup, and mounting the horse with ease. The beast tensed at first, before relaxing into Jeongguk’s hands.

Jeongguk dug his feet lightly into the stirrup, turning the horse toward the gates. As he trotted to the front of the column, he placed the war helm on his head.  Jeongguk didn’t know if it was the adrenaline clouding his mind, but when he closed his eyes, he smelt the faint scent of sandalwood and lilies in the air.

In the distance, he heard the shouts of the guards as they heaved and lifted the steel gates. The white stallion neighed in distress, and Jeongguk soothed it with his palm, his voice low and determined. “Shh - Haku, calm down. Now, let’s go keep your master safe, aye.”

Jeongguk was afraid, too, but he dared not show it - not in front of these soldiers. He was their general now, their leader - not a weak, spineless boy. Yet how could he not fear what lay ahead? He could glimpse the fires of the enemy encampment in the distance - ten thousand strong, was it? The war cries of the men behind him echoed in the night - men, ready to die - and all Jeongguk could think of was: this is it, this is how it ends.

But as the gates rose, Jeongguk raised his gaze once more, toward the castle’s keep. He wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him, or if he did indeed spy a figure, clad in white furs, standing at the terrace. Then Jeongguk recalled that night, so long ago - where he had knelt, one fine summer’s day, and pledged his life to another.

Jeongguk turned away - his pitch-black eyes steely and determined, now. The gates were almost open, and the war cries from the Kim soldiers had reached fever pitch.

Jeongguk covered his face with his helmet, unsheathed his katana - and closed his eyes.