Chapter Text
“We still have another several days’ journey, Your Highness, you should get some rest.”
Prince Jimin raises an eyebrow at his advisor, Seokjin, who sits across from him in the carriage the two are traveling in. “I didn’t ask you anything.”
Seokjin rolls his eyes—one of the few people who would risk doing so, but he’s known Jimin since they were both children, so he also knows that he can get away with it. “You didn’t, but you’ve been awake this whole time we’ve been traveling. You of all people need to get some rest.”
Jimin doesn’t answer for a moment, instead looking out the window of the carriage. They’re travelling down a road in the forest that separates his home kingdom from the one to their east, on their way home after a rather disappointing visit that accomplished nothing when it came to the trade routes that Jimin’s father had hoped to open. The trees are huge, big enough that Jimin can tell they’re a long way away from any sort of civilization. A long way from home. Not that the palace is very homey, but it’s the closest he’s ever known.
“No one else here gets the chance to rest longer than a few hours at a time. They all must stay constantly vigilant. Shouldn’t I be a part of that?” he finally asks. It bothers him, to not contribute anything. He was raised to be constantly working, never idle. He doesn’t want to just sit inside his carriage and rest.
“And what do you expect to contribute by making yourself exhausted during a trip that you could be using to save your strength?” Seokjin counters. “Don’t you think you could do more by getting rest, so you can get back to work when you get back to the palace?”
Jimin pulls a very un-princely face at Seokjin. “I hate it when you use good logic against me,” he complains, but finally settles into a more comfortable position. Seokjin is right; he will be more useful well-rested than he would be exhausted when he returns and is forced to give his father and the rest of his council a detailed report of the visit.
“You’re just bitter that I’m right,” Seokjin shoots back, and, well. He’s right, but mostly because Jimin is sure that this incident will now be held over his head for at least the next week, if not longer. Seokjin is insufferable when he’s proven right.
So Jimin doesn’t bother responding, and instead he closes his eyes and allows the rhythmic footsteps of the horses to lull him to sleep.
Hours later, Jimin wakes up to screaming.
There’s a huge jolt, and he falls off his seat to the floor of the carriage as the horses come to a standstill. He hears the thunk of arrows hitting the wooden exterior, and he can hear metal swords being drawn, but when he tries to get up to look outside the window, hands push him down roughly, making him curse.
“Stay there, Your Highness,” Seokjin hisses at him. “We’re under attack. They’re shooting arrows at us and no one knows where they’re coming from.”
Jimin wants to fight him, wants to leave the carriage and aid his men, but he understands the consequences of his injury, or even worse, death. No, he can’t afford to die, so he will stay put, and he will let others die for him.
On some days, Jimin loves having the power to rule and help his country. On days like today, however, he despises the position he is placed in.
Slowly, the sounds of yelling and pain around them stop, and Seokjin finally stops physically forcing him down. He doesn’t get up yet, though; he knows not to move until someone from outside gives the all clear.
The door to the carriage opens.
Jimin realizes that the man in front of them is not a soldier at the same time Seokjin does, but both of them are too late.
A knife is thrown; Jimin has no chance to see where it lands. He only hears Seokjin’s cry of pain before a hand grabs the side of his face and smashes his head against the carriage floor.
Everything goes dark.
When Jimin finally wakes up, he thinks for a moment that he must still be unconscious, because he can’t see anything. But no, that can’t be the case, because his head is pounding and he’s gaining awareness, starting to realize that he’s lying on a damp, hard floor, and that there are people speaking in low tones what seems to be a short distance away from him. He tentatively tries to move, only to realize that both his arms and legs are bound. The reason he can’t see is because he’s blindfolded.
It comes back to him slowly—waking up, still half asleep. The shouts and screams. Seokjin. Is his advisor okay? He had definitely been hit, Jimin had heard the cry of pain, but had he been killed? What about the rest of his men? Did anyone survive other than him?
He tries to move again, but his struggle must have alerted one of his captors. The conversation stops. God, he has no idea what he’s up against.
He wonders briefly if he’ll live to see the next morning.
“Your Highness?” a voice calls out, but the way he says the title is jeering, insulting, as if it’s the lowest thing that Jimin could be. “Awake yet?”
Jimin stays silent.
It’s the wrong decision. A moment later he receives a blow to the stomach; he cries out involuntarily. “Answer me!”
“I’m awake,” he manages after several seconds of wheezing, afraid to be hit again. “Who are you?”
“That’s none of your concern,” another voice answers. Jimin wonders if maybe he can figure out how many people have him captured based on the number of voices surrounding him, but he quickly throws this idea aside. He has no idea if they have more people outside, or even if everyone inside will speak. He’d be risking too much to try to base an escape on such incomplete information. “Your only concern should be where you’re going to end up.”
Jimin hesitates, not sure he wants to know. “And where will that be?”
The answer scares him more than he would like to admit.
“Whoever the highest bidder is.”
Jimin desperately hopes that he’ll end up dead before he ends up in someone else's hands.
A week later, Jimin is still in the same spot that he had started. He is given little water, and even less food. The only way he can tell the passage of time is the change of the people guarding him—there seems to be three rotations every day.
He’s weakening quickly, but he can’t help but think—perhaps a bit too desperately—that if he loses enough weight, he’ll be able to slip out of his restraints.
As of today, they’re still far too tight for him to loosen himself from.
He’s also started to develop a bit of a cough. His captors seem to be a bit worried—if he gets too sick, he’ll be worth less money, and it would be a waste to have him die before they can sell him off.
He wonders if they’ve ever ransomed a person before. They sound almost amateur for how they talk, making plans about how they’ll safely deliver him directly in his presence. Then again, it probably doesn’t matter what he hears. It’s not like he’s going anywhere, and it’s not like he has anyone to tell.
Some of the shifts he’s stuck with are better than others. Every other day, he seems to get stuck with a man who loves to take his aggression out on him—whenever Jimin doesn’t answer a question soon enough, or tries to speak without being spoken to, he receives blows to his sides, his arms—anything but his face, it seems. That remains important.
He’s not sure how good his face looks either, though. He still has a throbbing headache, even days after being knocked unconscious. He’s almost certain that he’s concussed, so he’s pretty sure it probably still shows on the outside. That may be why he hasn’t yet been sold.
Jimin is debating with himself as to whether it’s worth it to call out to someone for water—he may just be punished for speaking out of turn—when suddenly two whistles sound from the front of the cave that he’s being kept in. He has no clue what they may mean, but his guards curse, and he hears hurried footsteps running toward the entrance and away from him.
Was he just…left alone?
“Hello?” Jimin says hesitantly, the word scratchy and harsh on his parched throat. God, he’s so dehydrated.
He gets no response.
For a moment he’s elated, realizing that now is the chance that he had been waiting for, but he quickly realizes that there’s nothing he can do about it anyway. He’s tied up, blinded, and weak enough that he doubts he could cut through his own restraints even if he had been handed a knife.
His captors might as well untie him at this point. He doubts he’d ever manage to get far.
He strains his ears, trying to listen for the return of his guards, but he can’t hear anything. No shouting, no running, nothing. What’s going on? He can’t do anything but listen, and so he waits for what seems like forever.
A pebble skitters across the ground to his right. He turns his head out of instinct, but considering he’s still blindfolded, he can’t see anything.
“Hello?” he asks again. If anything, his voice is even more raspy and dry than the last time he spoke it.
There’s a silence, and Jimin almost thinks he imagined it, but then suddenly, a voice speaks up. “Who are you?”
It’s not one he recognizes, and as a result he almost immediately gives his name and title, desperately hoping that he’d be rescued.
Just before he does, however, he hesitates. The voice hadn’t recognized him, so either he’s more unrecognizable than he thought after everything he’s been through, or this isn’t a rescue party. Which means that the voice may just be another enemy.
“Help me,” he says instead, tugging weakly against his restraints. “Please.”
There is another pause, but then a slight scuffle, and a few seconds later he feels a hand grab his wrist. He winces as the grip puts pressure on his bruises, skin around the rope tying him up rubbed raw, but doesn’t cry out. “Stay still,” the voice says, and the rope goes taught around his skin, pulling tighter for a second before it suddenly falls away.
His mysterious savior moves on to his ankles as Jimin tenderly touches his wrists—he won’t be able to wear sleeves for weeks with how raw and sore they are. He’ll probably have scars for the rest of his life. The restraints on his ankles finally come free, and he reaches up to pull the blindfold off of his head. The tie pulls out several strands of his silver hair, but he barely feels it in his need to get his vision to return.
When he opens his eyes, even the darkness of the cave seems blinding, and he’s forced to immediately close them again. “Too bright,” he whimpers. Even just the half second of vision has his eyes watering, and he can feel a tear roll down his cheek.
“We need to get out of here,” the voice says. “Can you force yourself to look? Or at least get up? It won’t be long until your captors return.”
Jimin swallows but forces himself into a sitting position, arms shaking as he pushes himself up. It soon becomes clear that he won’t be standing anytime soon—a week of laying on his side and being starved as weakened him more than he had thought.
His savior curses.
“I’m sorry,” Jimin tries to say, but his voice cuts out halfway through the words.
He was so close. So close to freedom, but now it’s too painful to even open his eyes.
“Don’t apologize,” the voice says harshly. “Just…hold on or something, and try not to be a burden.”
Suddenly, an arm hooks under his knees and behind his back, and he’s lifted up off the ground. His arm flails for a moment, but he quickly reaches to wrap it around the neck of the man carrying him for more stability. A moment later, they’re moving.
Jimin can tell when they reach the exit of the cave because the light hits his eyes, even through his closed eyelids, and it’s far too bright. He doesn’t complain, though; he wouldn’t dream of complaining now that he’s getting out, he’s being saved and he couldn’t care less who was carrying him away from the hell of his past week.
It isn’t long until he passes out again, far too weak to remain conscious no matter how much he wants to revel in his newfound freedom.
Although, maybe he’s just fallen into another trap.
Jungkook sits back on his heels with a sigh of relief when the kindle at the base of his campfire finally catches flame strongly enough to begin an actual fire. It had been raining a few days ago, so most of the wood around is still damp and it took him far more tries than he’d like to admit in order to get the wood burning.
Once he’s sure that the fire won’t burn itself out in the next few seconds, he glances back at the figure sleeping on the blanket he’s laid out behind him. The man—boy?—had passed out as soon as Jungkook had started running with him, presumably from the excitement or the energy he had been forced to spend trying to stand up and walk by himself, so Jungkook just carried him back to his campsite with him. The distraction he had caused was bound to be discovered to be fake any second, so the thieves were sure to return soon, and he wasn’t just going to leave the man there to be recaptured.
What were common thieves doing with a man, though? They weren’t very experienced, it seemed—otherwise they would’ve known to leave someone guarding their prisoner at all times, even if it is obvious that he can’t get away himself. But what were they going to do with him? Jungkook has many guesses—and all of them make him shudder—but he can’t be sure why they would choose this man in particular.
Well, he may not be certain, but he does have working eyes. Even half starving and unconscious, the man is beautiful.
He wouldn’t have doubted if they had captured the man just to try and sell him.
Not only that, but Jungkook had found some…well, interesting things that the thieves had in their stores. Namely, a hell of a lot of money, as well as some extremely nice jewelry and clothing. He had dumped it all in his sack that he kept over a shoulder before he had found the captured man, and he wouldn’t doubt if it had belonged to him before being captured. Maybe he was some sort of noble from one of the kingdoms? He’ll have to ask. Surely he deserves answers, considering he saved the man’s life.
It’s as he’s checking how done the meat he put on the fire from the rabbit he had shot earlier in the day is when he hears a soft groan, and he turns to see the man beginning to move a bit. He opens his eyes for half a second before squeezing them shut again, covering them with a hand. Jungkook can’t blame him. The sunlight must be harsh after spending who-knows-how-long blindfolded.
“Is someone there?” the man asks softly, and Jungkook winces at his raspy voice, immediately grabbing the flask at his side and going to hand it to him.
“I’m here,” he says lowly, reaching for his hand and placing the flask into it. “Here, drink this. And don’t cover your eyes with your hand. Let yourself get used to the sunlight through your eyelids for a bit before you try to open them.”
The man slowly lowers the hand covering his eyes, nose scrunching at the brightness. It’s an oddly cute expression. When he remembers the flask, though, he almost spills half of it on himself in his haste to drink. It’s obvious that he’s extremely dehydrated.
“Slow down,” Jungkook tells him. “You’ll make yourself sick. I’ll get you some food in a bit, too, so just relax some. It’ll be okay.”
Hesitantly, the man slows down his drinking, not quite finishing it before he takes it away from his mouth in order to get a chance to breathe. He grips the flask tightly, though; he obviously doesn’t want to risk letting it go. “Who are you?” he says, and his voice sounds significantly better. Melodic, almost, if only his throat wasn’t so sore.
Jungkook hesitates for a minute on giving his name before he decides it doesn’t matter. “Jungkook. And you?”
“Jimin.”
Neither of them give their surnames, but it’s for the better. Despite the fact that Jungkook saved Jimin’s life, he’s still also a thief—if not more talented than the ones he just raided, but still a thief—and Jungkook is still pretty certain that Jimin is a noble.
“Well, Jimin. I’m going to get our food ready in a minute, but in the meantime, tell me a bit about how you got in the situation you did? Just talk slowly, your throat is still recovering.”
Although his eyes are still closed, Jimin turns as Jungkook goes back to the fire where the meat is cooking, following the sounds of his movements. “I was heading home,” Jimin says slowly. “And my carriage was attacked. About a week ago. I’ve been captured ever since. They said they were going to sell me to the highest bidder.”
Jungkook shudders as he pulls the meat off the fire. “So you are a noble, then.”
Jimin freezes. “How…?”
“Well, no common citizen owns a carriage. And the clothes I found in the thieves’ possession is definitely high quality. I figured it would be yours.”
Jimin hesitates, touching the fabric of the dirty clothing he was wearing—an undershirt that used to be white and pants that were ripped in several places. “I woke up in this after they knocked me out the first time. You might have my clothes. And I wouldn’t say I’m a noble, just…upper class, I suppose.”
“Fair enough.” Jungkook grabs Jimin’s hand—the one not holding the water—and places into it a stick on which he had threaded the rabbit meat. “Food. Be careful, it’s hot.”
Jimin grasps the stick just as tightly as he holds the water. He doesn’t think that the man who saved him would take it away, but at this point he’s terrified to trust anyone. He’s starving, dehydrated, blind and lost.
Even though the meat burns his tongue when he bites it, it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten.
Jungkook sits back with his own meat and lets it cool before he takes a bite of it; he may not always have plenty of food, but he’s not starving enough to kill his taste buds over it. He continues to watch Jimin, vaguely amused—he eats almost delicately, like he’s trying to be mannered, but the fact that he’s eating rabbit meat on a stick with only one hand and unable to see greatly hinders his efforts. He laughs a bit, causing Jimin to tilt his face towards him, frowning.
“What?”
“No need to have manners out here, Jimin. It’s just the two of us and the forest.”
After that, Jimin seems to be a lot more free with how he eats. Jungkook can’t help but find it a bit cute.
When Jimin finally finishes, he sets the stick down. “Is it dark out yet?” he asks.
“Getting there. The sun is beginning to go down.”
Jimin nods, swallows. He squints his eyes open, biting his lip as they immediately start to water. Jungkook almost wants to tell him to stop pushing his vision, but in all honesty Jimin needs to be able to see. He won’t survive in the woods long without vision and Jungkook can’t hold his hand or carry him everywhere. Not that he’s going to take care of Jimin, either. Right now he’s worried that the man is more trouble than he’s worth—but then again, Jungkook has never really ran away at signs of trouble. Right now, he just wants to know more about this upper-class man who had been captured to be sold.
He watches silently as Jimin continues to wipe at his eyes, new tears falling down his cheeks every time he wipes old ones away. It takes a long time, but finally, ask it gets darker, Jimin seems to be able to hold his eyes open for more than a second or two at a time without crying.
“Better?” Jungkook asks quietly.
Jimin turns and finally looks at Jungkook for the first time. He jumps a bit, as if he wasn’t expecting what he saw, but then he smiles. It’s the first time Jungkook has seen him smile since rescuing him. “Much better,” he murmurs. After his food and water, he looks much more alive, too.
“Good,” Jungkook hums. “Go to sleep, then.”
Jimin tilts his head to the side. “Already?” he asks.
“Yeah. You’ve been passed out, so you don’t have a lot of energy. It’s night and I want to get some rest too. We can start moving in the morning. Maybe get you home.”
Jimin’s eyes widen, as if he wasn’t expecting to be offered help of any kind. He probably wasn’t. In all honesty, Jungkook hadn’t expected to give it, either—the words had jumped out of his mouth without him even thinking about it. But he’s said it now, and he doesn’t plan on going back on his word.
“Okay,” Jimin finally says, and lets himself lay back down on the ground, taking a deep breath. Jungkook is certain that he’ll be completely out in minutes.
He watches silently as Jimin drifts off to sleep, and then he finally allows himself to fall asleep as well.
Jimin wakes up to aching bones and nausea; the rich meat from the night before definitely do his stomach any good. He doesn’t regret eating it though. Anything was better than what he had been suffering at the hands of his captors before.
He finds, to his delight, that in the faint light of dawn he is still able to open his eyes. The water flask is lying next to him, so he finishes that off before pushing himself into a sitting position. Jungkook is sitting at the fire—or at least what used to be the fire. He’s in the process of putting it out, pouring dirt on it to dampen the flames.
Jimin still can’t believe he got rescued—it was probably a one in millions chance for something like that to happen to him. His kingdom has probably been alerted to his absence by now, so he needs to get back as soon as possible, but he doesn’t even know where he is. And as thankful as he is to Jungkook for saving him, he absolutely cannot tell him that he’s the prince of the Park kingdom. There’s no telling what he may do to him if he figures out exactly how valuable holding him hostage could be.
“Awake?” Jungkook’s voice jolts him out of his thoughts. Jimin blinks at him, and nods. “Good. We have to get moving soon. Don’t want to stay too long within about fifty miles of the place where you got captured. Can’t risk them finding you again and then murdering my ass for it.”
Jimin makes a face at the crass language, but internally shudders at the thought of being found and captured again. He’d do anything to avoid that.
Jungkook walks over to him and holds out what seems to be a lump of bread. “Here. Breakfast. I’m sure this isn’t what you’re used to, but it’s the best I’ve got.”
Jimin accepts the food gratefully. “Anything is better than the past week, or however long I’ve been there,” he whispers. “Thank you for the food.” Maybe a few weeks ago he may have complained about being served stale bread and unseasoned rabbit, but that definitely won’t be happening now.
Jungkook reaches down and grabs the flask; the moment Jimin sees what he’s doing, he makes a panicked noise, trying to reach for it and ultimately failing when Jungkook pulls away far too quickly for him. The thief raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, and Jimin feels his cheeks burn in shame.
“The flask is empty, I don’t know why you want it so badly. Let me go fill it back up, and then we can pack up and be on our way.”
Jimin nods, ducking his head down to avoid eye contact. It’s weird, feeling so out of place and under someone the way he does with Jungkook. In the palace, he holds all the power, and most of the knowledge. But out here, he’d be dead in days, if not hours, without Jungkook’s protection. He’s not sure he likes being so reliant on someone, but so far at least he can be glad that he’s currently being treated decently—as an equal, at least, even if he isn’t truly one.
When Jungkook finally gets back, he hands the flask back to Jimin and sets to packing everything up. “So, where are we going to be headed?” he asks. “Where am I returning you to?”
Jimin bites his lip. “Where are we now?” he asks.
“The Jung kingdom. Close to the southern border.”
Jimin sighs in relief. It’s not nearly as close to home as he would wish to be, but the Jung kingdom is at least friendly with the Park kingdom. He probably wouldn’t be captured or murdered on sight if caught here.
“I’m from the Park kingdom,” Jimin says.
“Ah. A long way.”
“Is it too far?” Jimin realizes how much he’s asking of this man. Who knows what other family or obligations he may have. “I can pay you when we get back, I swear. I’ll give you anything for helping me like you have.” Maybe a rash promise, but one he can definitely afford, as the prince.
Jungkook raises his eyebrow. “Not too far, no, but I wouldn’t reject some sort of payment, considering I’ll be supporting both of us on this whole journey back. Plus you’re a noble. You can probably afford to pay me back for a week or two’s worth of food,” he laughs.
“Thank you, Jungkook,” he says sincerely. “You will be rewarded for your kindness.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes a bit, but he doesn’t reject Jimin’s offer. “Come on,” he says. “We need to get going. It’s a long way to the Park kingdom.”
Jimin pushes himself off the ground and manages to steady himself on his feet, while Jungkook throws his pack of stolen goods and food over his shoulder. He starts walking.
Jimin follows.