Chapter Text
It was the third night of mutiny in the city.
The streets were alive with the heavy hum and screech of rioting, burning with torches and witches' magic, fireworks blue and purple cartwheeling across the cobblestones between the legs of the crowd. The skirts of the women, brilliant azures and daffodils in full bloom twirled in bright patterns beneath the smoke, their ornate headdresses, adorned with old coins and scraps of silver catching the glint of the torches.
There were children amongst them, their flags waving in the wind behind them in long, torn shreds. They laughed beneath their parents' anguished chanting, the sound haunted with innocence and naivety. Still, they would grow to join the dancing rioters, their magic a powerful symbol of freedom. The rioting was just a right of passage for the young witches, the older boys with their arms and legs too long for their bodies joining with ignorant passion.
Hoseok loved how they were able to turn their rioting into street parties, beautiful things that he could watch from the safety and warmth of the palace balcony. The sky was cold and littered with stars, their strings occasionally broken by the spray of golden fireworks, yet they seemed undeterred by the threat of rain.
The riots happened so often it was almost a monthly affair, and Hoseok had fallen in love with the magic people and their tricks, their colourful clothes and their singing and dancing. Sometimes he envied their lives, their little huts in the woods and their simple, manual work. Of course, there was comfort in the palace, there was joy in waking up in the afternoon with nothing to do, but sometimes he dreamed of the dawn, of cattle and hand made clothes.
Life in the Royal Court wasn't all that the Witch folk dreamed it to be. There were rules to be followed, titles to be remembered, and nothing fun like dancing or magic. He wore shirts starched heavy and trousers straight and fitted, and the only dancing to be done was around his father's unjust temperament and the twins’ haughty attitude, reinforced by favouritism.
He watched the crowd with romanticised admiration, their chanting for justice ignored by the young prince. They were beautiful little creatures, like ants of many colours in his own little ant farm, scurrying through the narrow, meandering streets of the city, and he longed to be among them, to be one of those beautiful creatures.
Palace life could be unbearably lonely, all of the praise falling on his brothers and his enchanting older sister. Rather than conform and perhaps win some honour amongst his royal peers, Hoseok found himself making friends with the faces of the Witch strangers.
He scanned the faces in the crowd, looking for the ones that he'd grown to know and love in his own little way. These people had no titles and no bizarre manners, they valued each other above money and power. Hoseok liked to pretend that he was one of them, a Witch man in loose, patterned trousers, brilliantly red and yellow, his ears jewelled and hands calloused with labour.
Yet familiarity evaded him, the faces of the crowd blurring to indistinct smudges of human beings, thieving, rioting people demanding more than they were owed. His lip curled in a disappointed snarl, willing the noise and the festivities to stop so that he could sulk peacefully in his loneliness, when a flash of blue making its way against the tide of the crowd caught his eye.
A man in a cape weaved between the rows of people, his slight figure fighting in odd directions between the waves of protesters. The hood of his cape was pulled over his face, a discretion that not many of the Witch people bothered with, and the simplicity of cerulean velvet obscuring his features captured Hoseok’s attention like nothing else ever had.
Even from the distance, Hoseok knew that this stranger to the riots was not like the rest of his kind, he moved with a quickened grace, as if this were an obstacle course that he’d made his way through countless times before. The breeze slipped beneath the hood of his cape and exposed patches of warm gold skin, jawline strong and sharp, ears adorned with hoops and jewels, another through his rounded nose. There was something regal, truly magical about this stranger, not the simple, domestic magic of the witches surrounding the palace, but truly powerful, real sorcery.
Hoseok realised with a tightness in the chest that this figure slipping through the crowd without so much as a second glance might be the rarest beauty of all, and he’d never be able to appreciate it with the worship that he deserved. He was filled with the sudden urge to run, to climb down his tower and chase him through the streets until he could tear that hood from his face and marvel upon him, let whatever alluring magnetism that the man possessed consume him.
Father had always warned him that the most beautiful witches are the most powerful, and powerful witches are dangerous. Still, his father’s growled warning did nothing to deter him as he followed his path in the rabid hope of catching a glimpse of his features.
As he reached the edge of the crowd, where children played while their parents’ protested, his pace slowed, steps still light and hurried with all the elegance of a fairy. His cape caught in the breeze to expose his long legs, clothed in cropped white trousers, the ankles circled with beaded white lace. The style wasn’t typical of the witches, too neat and delicate for their nomad lives, but this man wasn’t quite like them. He was greater somehow, above their pirate ways to be a man of honour, one of Hoseok’s own kind.
He leaned on the balcony, praying that the man would stay just a little while longer or even look up at him, let him see the beauty beneath his cape and then he would be at peace, but he slipped past the edges of the crowd, before diving into the blackness of an alley, out of sight yet still burrowing his way curiously into Hoseok’s affections.
“You know who that was, right?”
Hoseok almost jumped out of his skin. As if shaped by air, his youngest brother had appeared alongside him, leaning on the stone wall with such leisure that it was as if he'd been there all along, watching the man hurry through the crowd with him.
Jimin pushed a strand of perfect blond hair from his eyes, his grey stare as cold and threatening as always. Despite his shorter height and his frail stature, Jimin could strike fear into the hearts of men with a single glance, his anger levelled and always authoritarian. Still, his smile melted every frightful aspect of his face away, and he grinned teasingly at this older brother.
He straightened his posture and pushed himself off the wall, already walking away as he began to speak.
“He’s the youngest son of the council leader, and Father wants you in the drawing room,”
The youngest son of the council leader. Hoseok had heard tales of the leader of the witch folk, a woman so beautiful that men feared her, her body tall and lissome and her eyes a striking glare of blue. There were whispers in the forests that she was a daughter of Mother Nature herself, an ally to the Green Man and the Lord of Misrule alike.
Still, Hoseok knew that the stories of the Witch people were just nonsense, like the fairy tales that mothers tell to scare their children. They were a fanciful bunch, believing too greatly in their own conjuring of the law of the earth and not enough in the law of men.
He dismissed the notion of earthly Gods and shook all thoughts of the man in blue from his mind, and turned back to his brother, already leaving his room.
“Father wants me?” Hoseok clarified, stumbling over his feet as he hurried after him.
Jimin moved like a dancer, alluring and dignified and captivating in every step. Every ounce of grace that God had forgotten to give Hoseok had been passed on to his two twin brothers, and they carried themselves with the perfection expected of future kings, delicate yet powerful. He'd learnt a long time ago that his brothers' were everything that he was not.
Jimin glanced over his shoulder and smiled, not bothering to hold the door as Hoseok hurried towards him.
"Don't ask me why, I was only summoned to fetch you," he smiled, voice delighting in thought of whatever was to come.
A cold sweat began to chill his brow, dread heavy and sick in his stomach. Father never wanted him for anything good, and certainly never something concerning the kingdom. If anything, Hoseok had become somewhat of a ghost in the castle, the twins taking on all the roles expected of him.
"Well why didn't he send one of the servants?" He asked, pleading for some explanation.
Jimin just shrugged, the gold decorated epaulets of his jacket almost catching on his earrings.
Hoseok looked down at his own attire and cursed himself for not stopping to change into something smarter. His own dark trousers and white shirt looked awful compared to Jimin's dark suit, glittered with gold and amber.
"Gosh, he'll eat me alive!" He groaned.
"Oh don't be so dramatic! He's asked for all three of us, so whatever it is you're guilty of, he doesn't know!"
Hoseok didn't need to be guilty of anything for his father to tear him to shreds. His mere existence seemed to anger something within the King, as if everything wrong in the Kingdom was somehow the fault of his oldest son.
Perhaps that would've been true if his father had ever offered him the opportunities to get things wrong, but the slightest suspicion of power had never so much as looked in Hoseok's direction. The King had just simply never taken to his oldest son, making him a convenient punching bag.
He followed Jimin through the palace, their footsteps echoing down the vast stone halls, the dim candlelight casting long, ghostly shadows. Why on earth would his father concern him in stately business? It must be stately if his brothers were asked for too. Unless they're all in trouble?
But his father had a habit of turning a blind eye to his younger sons' misbehaviour. They were perfect in his eyes, handsome and courteous, and definitely didn't make Hoseok's younger years a living Hell with their parrot like way of repeating every cruel word that their father tortured him with.
He followed his brother up the stairs, their shadows contorted by the spiral and the flicker of the candles in the draft. Every step closer to his father's quarters was another stone heavier in his stomach, hands shaking and throat dry with queasiness.
"Gosh, Jimine, I can't do this now," he whispered, hoping that by some miracle his brother might have some sympathy.
Jimin stopped and turned to him, face soft and caring for once. The expression alone was enough to provide him with some small comfort.
"Father called an emergency family meeting, so we have to go now, okay? There is no hiding during times of emergency," he said, reaching out to give his shoulder a squeeze. "One day you'll be king, hyung,"
"Don’t be silly, I’m not even the Crown Prince!" Hoseok replied, his tone jovial, although his voice was charred and bitter.
Jimin laughed, glancing over his shoulder to smile at his brother, the shadows contorting his grin into something monstrous and menacing. "Maybe father has decided to abdicate," he suggested. "Now hurry! We'll be in even more trouble if we're late!"
The two ran up the rest of the stone staircase, dizzy by the time they reached the heavy oak door at the top. There were a million possibilities all chasing their tails around Hoseok's mind, each as absurd or as angry as the last, and all that he wanted to do was descend the staircase and head back to his balcony and his cast of witch characters in his favourite theatre play.
Jimin entered without knocking, a crime that Hoseok would've been beheaded for, striding confidently into the room with his older brother cowering behind them.
His twin, Taehyung, had already arrived, standing to attention with his hands behind his back. He wore the same smart suit as his twin but his dark hair gave away his sleepiness, eyes still heavy with recently shed sleep.
Jimin and Hoseok joined their youngest in line, waiting for their father to begin speaking
The King stood in the window, staring out over the city. The balcony doors were thrown open and the roar of the rioters was even louder than on Hoseok's side of the castle, he could hear their chanting clearly for the first time.
"You two, you're late," the King grumbled, not bothering to pay his children any mind as he spoke. "I'm sick of all this rioting, I think it's about time we do something about this scourge on our great society,"
Hoseok had never paid any attention to the plight of the witch people. His father had made it very clear that politics was none of Hoseok's business, and so their complaints had fallen on his deaf ears. Besides, it would be harder for him to fall in love with their way of life if he paid attention to its downsides.
But now, their songs and voices rang through the night, defiant yet tortured, almost beaten.
"Land encroachment kills witches!"
"End the Dragon trade!"
"Give us a chance!"
He frowned at his father as he shuffled over to the balcony, shutting the double doors with a vicious slam. Their voices were dulled by the dark oak, yet they refused to be silent, the glow of their torches igniting the view from the window with fire.
"Your Majesty, they're just trying to survive!" Taehyung said, stepping out of line to voice his protest loud and clear. Taehyung had never been one to stand quietly, nor let their father escape with injustices, and Hoseok often cursed him quietly for his ability to get away with it.
The King dismissed him with a wave of his hand, turning away from the window. In his old age, his movements were slow and staggered, his bones infused with ale and good tobacco. It was disheartening for Hoseok to watch, not just to see his father decline, but the constant reminder that soon the Kingdom would be his was like the phantom sensation of a spider creeping up his spine.
"You're too brash, my dear child, you don't understand the realities of these people," he laughed, his smile condescending and ugly.
Taehyung's face contorted into a sickened smile, yet he stepped back in line like an obedient dog. All of his passion built up in his young years couldn't convince his father that he knew anything worthwhile. For a wonderfully short moment, Hoseok wondered if there were any plans to crown any of them one day.
"Tonight, the military will disperse the crowd, and tomorrow our long term plan will begin,"
"And what is the long term plan?" Taehyung asked, his voice heavy with doubt.
“We will solve the problem of the witches in the same way we solve all our other diplomatic problems - with a marriage,”
He paused, as if waiting for his line of children to applaud his brilliance or shower him with praises for his genius, but none of them moved. Instead, their postures straightened and their fists clenched in aggravated confusion, the anger of betrayal beginning to settle over them.
"Marriage?" Jimin asked, unable to be courteous in his shock. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, we will not marry witches,"
The King just grinned at his children, wicked and cruel. "We do not marry for love, we marry for power, and these bastards are a direct threat to our kingdom! Marriage is a tactical move, and if we bring one of their kind on the inside, they will believe that they have some power," he explained.
His explanation seemed to warm his two brothers, their shoulders relaxing and their rigid demeanour slipping to finally reveal their smiles. Hoseok wished that he could share their relief, but his father's plan was not meant for his rejoicing.
Hoseok had never been worthy of his royal blood, that was apparent from the day of his birth, and the birth of his twin brother's only furthered the royal hatred of him. Sandwiched between the beauty of Jiwoo and the Godliness of the twins, Hoseok must've been cursed. Redheaded, with a long chin and nose pointed - surely shaped by a Witch, Hoseok didn't blame his parents for pushing him to one side in favour of the better representation.
But that left only one option to marry a Witch, and as his father rounded on him with a gleefully mean smile, Hoseok knew that his brother's needn't fear a marriage unworthy of their status.
”You,” He sighed, voice savage and soft as he approached his eldest son. “Oh, if only I knew what to do with you! Twenty Six years, and I finally have the answer!”
“Sell me to a Witch,” Hoseok grimaced.
“Of course! What better ploy than the promise of marriage to the heir to the throne? We lure the witches in with power and pull it out from beneath them before they’ve even realised what hit them!”
If Hoseok could suffer every piece of misery inflicted by the hands of his younger brother’s so that they might stick up for him in that moment, he would do so gladly, over and over again. But the twins didn’t bat an eyelid, hardly glancing at their older brother as the King handed down his fate.
Hoseok’s downfall would only serve in their favour, after all.
“And what about me?” He asked, refusing to let his voice crack and the tears falls. “Take the throne from me, it’s not like you ever intended to let me rule, but don’t sell your child into a marriage!”
The King rounded on him again, eyes ablaze with mirth, the perpetual fury that always shone in his direction muted by his sudden suggestion of brilliance. He chuckled as he stepped forwards, ethanol breath clouding his senses.
“But you are my son, Hoseok, and only I may decide how I move you in this kingdom,”
He was nothing more than a piece in his father’s game of chess. They all were; his sister and the twins, every noblemen in the court and the women that weren’t quite as secretive as they should be. The witches had always remained stoic in their refusal to conform, and so they too would join the back and forth of the game, where the only winner could be The King.
“Your Majesty, if I may?” Jimin stepped forwards, his voice like silver and steps well practised in silent movement. The King didn’t bat an eye as he looped his arm through Hoseok’s, holding his older brother close. “It’s a very cruel fate, why don’t you let Hoseok pick his own bride or groom? To soften the blow, you see,”
The King raised one heavy brow, quietly considering the proposal. Mercy? Kindness? For Hoseok? In all twenty six years of his life, Hoseok couldn’t remember ever feeling real kindness from his father. It was always not so polite comments on his appearance in not so polite company, the title of Crown Prince dangled above his head like a threat before it was a promise.
”That one? Oh, he’s away with the fairies! Not very Royal, that’s why we had two more boys,”
After a long pause, tense with held breath, the King finally nodded.
“That sounds fair to me. That witch woman has countless children to chose from,”
Hoseok wanted to breathe with relief and thankfulness, but anger stopped his heart and held his tongue. Regardless of who his partner shall be, he was still the pawn in a doomed political marriage. There was no good to come of it, nothing but humiliation and anger, and he was caught up in it all, the victim, while his father remained victorious.
But what could he do? No one listened to him. He could object and object and object, yet they would still drag him to the altar in handcuffs. At least with his choice of partner they could disappear into the background of bureaucracy together, to live peacefully away from turmoil of politics and power.
There was a silver lining to be found somewhere, he just had to look for it.
“Hoseok-ah? Won’t you thank father?” Jimin teased, smiling with jaws ready to unhinge and swallow him whole. “He’s been very kind to offer you such a deal.”
Hoseok shook him off with a harsh elbow to his ribs. “I will only marry on my terms. Any disagreement and this deal falls through. I will thank you when I am married to the witch of my choice,”
The King smiled, the same snake like smile of his son.
“Of course, my Prince, I will begin the arrangements in the morning.”
With another flippant wave of his hand, the children were dismissed, piling out of the room as though they were escaping a fire. Hoseok’s chest burned and ached with rage, helplessly trapped within the cold stone walls of this palace.
He didn’t have time to question his father’s honesty. Surely, there will be some constraints, but in the dark draft of the staircase, Hoseok wondered how many.
“I think you handled that remarkably well, hyung!” Taehyung complimented, waiting for them at the bottom of the unending stairs.
“You did great! Father seems to be coming to his senses,” Jimin added.
Stood side by side, the twins were an unusual pair. One blond and one brunet, their heights and frames an odd match for two men born just moments apart. They were both too beautiful for their own good, perfectly shaped jaws and heavy, piercing stares, their movements always graceful and commanding.
Hoseok watched them from the third or fourth step, mouth agape. They were wonderfully oblivious, too smart for the confinement of these Palace walls. Their world always stretched beyond its dark and damp, their hearts already set on the world at large and what might be out there for the young princes.
“Why didn’t either of you defend me? Why didn’t either of you tell him how awful this idea is?” He asked, voice a little more than a whisper shouted through the echoing tunnels.
The twins stared at him, then at each other, confusion written across their insufferably handsome features.
“Hyung, with respect, you could’ve refused,” Jimin suggested.
Hoseok laughed, head tipped back in exhausted disbelief. “You really think I could refuse the King? As if he doesn’t hold my entire future in his hands! Do you honestly believe that if I voiced my concerns for the utter awfulness of this plan, he will listen to me? Would you like to show me where he has listened to me once?”
The two fell silent, their eyes glued to the ground. Hoseok jumped the last few steps and pushed past them, breaking their tightly kept rank for just a second. He didn’t want to stand around and listen to their excuses, their pleads of ignorance will forever fall on his deaf ears.
They were raised superior, he could hardly blame their behaviour on their wilful attempts to make Hoseok’s life a misery. But sometimes, in the loneliest hours of the morning, he prayed for brothers that might see him as family before they see him as a challenge to their power.
“Hyung, wait!” Jimin called after him, his footsteps following him down the hall. “At least the choice is yours! You could marry that pretty little Witch in the blue cape if you please,”
And there it was: Hoseok’s silver lining. That intoxicating beauty in the cape, face hidden but still his aura was powerful enough that Hoseok was enchanted, almost smitten.
Taehyung joined them, arm slung heavy around his brother’s shoulders. “There’s very few witches prettier than him, it’s not all doom and gloom,” he added, smile wide and reassuring.
Taehyung - considerate and passionate Taehyung, had always been more in tune with the realities of the world, his family and his brothers. There was a greater gentleness about him as the very youngest of the boys, observant yet still calculating, choosing when to give and when to simply listen.
Tonight was not the time to listen. With a devilish grin, Taehyung leaned in close, his fingertips cold against his neck. “Marry the prettiest witch you find and we’ll see to it that the King’s plans are ruined for all the right reasons.”
He parted with a squeeze to his shoulder, gripping his older twin by the cuff of the shirt to drag him away down the hall way, leaving Hoseok dumbfounded and confused.
“Goodnight, hyung! Good luck finding your bride,”