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They call him The Vicious King.
Jimin doesn’t quite understand it—he’s always tried his best to accommodate his people, giving them what they want, what they need. He holds balls and charities and events for them, hires the best musicians and promotes local businesses—it’s just distressing, being called ‘vicious.’ Okay, sure, sometimes he can lose his temper, but it’s only once or twice, and he’s trying! They just don’t understand how hard it can be, trying to run a kingdom by yourself.
Jimin sighs, running a hand along the water’s surface. He’s in the bath, washing the grime and dirt of another day off; he pouts, thinking about his citizens. What else could they want—he gives them so much, he even performs for them. He perks up, a flicker of a smile on his face. That’s it! He’ll put on a dance for them, lift their spirits up!
Standing from the bath, Jimin hurries to dry himself, uncaring that he stains the towel red.
He invites the entire kingdom, giving them the day off to attend—he wants them to know how much he appreciates them, wants them to relax and enjoy themselves. Smiling to himself, Jimin puts the final touches on the ballroom—he’s decorated it with tapestries and portraits, all commissioned by his favorite court member, Kim Taehyung. The man had been thrilled to receive his commission, for so many pieces at once. He was practically vibrating in excitement when Jimin had come down and requested it himself! A warm feeling filled Jimin’s chest—he really did enjoy supporting his own court when he could.
Beaming, Jimin strode towards the far wall, checking and double-checking the space set out for the food. Yet another court member, Kim Seokjin, had been eager to provide for the performance. Kim Seokjin is Jimin’s favorite chef—cook too simple a word to describe his talent—having prepared the cake and dinner for Jimin’s last birthday. It had been exquisite, decadent—Jimin can still taste it on his tongue, mouth watering at the memory. And because this event was so important, so integral in reminding the people how much he loved them, Jimin had given Seokjin free access to the kingdom’s stores, allowing the man to use and take whatever he wanted. Only the best for his people!
Satisfied with the layout, Jimin moves on to the musical accompaniment, nodding in satisfaction. The conductor, Min Yoongi, was a good and talented man—he’d arranged the music for all previous events, setting the mood perfectly each time. He was a wonder with the piano, and Jimin had specifically requested a piece be written just for this event. Min Yoongi hadn’t said much to the request, but Jimin knew he was a man of few words; nodding, Yoongi had accepted the request, bowing low to Jimin afterwards.
To make sure everyone knows when and where—it’s a silly question, really, everyone knows where the palace is—Jimin asks his three of his favorite court members to go around and request everyone’s response. Kim Namjoon, Jung Hoseok, and Jeon Jungkook—the three of them are super personable, and convincing, so Jimin’s sure they’ll be able to get everyone to come. And if people can’t come…Jimin will be sad, but he understands. Not everyone is able to come to the parties or balls or events. He’ll just have to go see them personally if they can’t make it.
It’s almost time for the performance, Jimin notes, hearing the staff moving around and organizing. Gasping a little at how he’s let the time slide by, Jimin hurries towards his personal chambers. He’s planned his look out to be perfect and pretty and stunning, something to compliment his silvery hair. He slips the outfit on, looking himself over in the mirror. He sits down at the vanity, applying a touch or two of makeup; he can hear the guests spilling into the ballroom, the musicians starting up a low tune.
Ah, so exciting—it’s all coming together!
Jungkook stares coldly at the king, watching closely as he waltzes into the room. He’s disgusting, horrible, vile—Jungkook fist clenches at his side, knuckles straining against his skin. He will never forget what the king did to every poor, overworked person; to the destitute, to those with nothing to their names; to the injured, the sick. Jungkook will never forget his first time at one of the king’s balls, forced into coming by his enforcers—compelled against his will to watch as the king forced Jungkook’s cousin to kill innocent people, their bodies mutilated and carved up like animals, drinking their blood and consuming their flesh until his skin grew soft and supple, until his shaking hands grew strong and steady, until his bald head grew thick tufts of hair.
He is a monster, an unholy abomination that ruled with an iron hand, choking everyone around him until they submitted.
The things he’d done to Jungkook, to Jungkook’s friends and family—Yoongi’s tongue cut out, the fingers of Namjoon’s left hand—it makes his blood boil, makes him cry out for vengeance. Taehyung steps up to him, putting a hand on his arm. He shakes his head, eyes flicking towards the king in fear. The king is center-stage, dancing with a terrified noblewoman. Jungkook feels a scowl cross his face, taking a deep breath.
“Soon, Kook-ah, soon,” Taehyung murmurs, slipping his hand into the younger’s.
“The others are ready?” he murmurs, turning to look for Hoseok in the crowd.
Taehyung nods, gesturing towards the far end of the ballroom. Hoseok is dressed as a nobleman, his black hair bleached a pale brown, a mask obscuring his face. He has the most important part, tonight—he has to distract the king so thoroughly, so wholly—getting him alone and in a state of vulnerability, so that the plan can come to fruition.
The Vicious King will die tonight, and Jungkook cannot wait.