Chapter Text
All dragons hoard something. It was natural, instinctive, a part of what made them, well, dragons.
Hoards could be all kinds of things. Different from dragon to dragon. Unlike the stories, they didn't just hoard gold and jewels, lazing around on massive piles of treasure. No, every dragon’s hoard was unique, special only to them. One dragon might hoard candles or books or little green succulents. Seokjin once knew a dragon who hoarded geckos. Don’t ask him why- he definitely did not have an answer.
But Seokjin wasn’t like those other dragons. For one, Seokjin was old. Old in a way that had even Yoongi teasing him about grey hairs. He was the last of the Great Dragons to be born on the Korean Peninsula, and one of the only ones still remaining to this day. He was old well before any humans came along to try and build their homes here.
In that regard, Seokjin’s hoard was rather small for a dragon of his age. And yet, it was still the envy of every dragon who knew of it. Because Seokjin hoarded something so much more valuable than gold, more precious than jewels, and many times rarer than even the brightest and most flawless of diamonds.
Because Kim Seokjin, the White Dragon of the East, Landmaster of nearly all of Gyeonggi-do province, hoarded not gold or gems or diamonds-- he hoarded people.
***
He met Yoongi first. His beloved. They were a match made by the Fates, the two of them.
Seokjin was already fully grown, his Yeouiju safely tucked away in a hidden scale pocket only he could find, always with him but never seen. The land was still raw and young back then, mountainous and green, with plenty of rivers and lakes for a dragon to take a nap.
He was the youngest Landmaster on the peninsula at the time, having scratched out a little spot of territory on the western coast, flat and green and with little in the way of large bodies of water. He didn't mind though. It was his, and that was all that mattered.
Yoongi was unexpected. Since Seokjin didn’t have many true rivers in his territory, he made sure to keep careful watch of all the ones he did. Which is why, as soon as he heard the rumors surrounding a small river to the southeast of his territory, he headed straight over to see for himself.
The river was, well, it was boiling. Other creatures were worried that their main water source was now too hot to drink from or bathe in, but none of them could figure out what was causing the rising temperature.
Water was essential to dragons. They were made of it, born from it. Water was dragons and dragons were water. There was not one without the other. So seeing the water this way, hurting like this, physically pained Seokjin.
This river flowed slowly, dipping down with the land and ending in a cave deep within a rocky hill that could almost be called a tiny mountain. The entrance was too small to enter by foot, and Seokjin wasn't sure he wanted to brave the steaming frothing water for long enough to swim inside.
Still, he knew he didn't have a choice. Whatever was causing this, he certainly didn't want it sticking around. Besides- what water dragon worth their salt was afraid of water??
Seokjin let the ice inside him grow, frost forming on his scales as he lowered his temperature to combat the boiling water. A bubble of cold protected him as he slipped into the river, the heat still stinging at his pale blue eyes.
He'd been ready for a lot of things when he'd entered that cave. But there was no preparing for what he actually found.
Perhaps the most surprising part of meeting Yoongi, was how much the two had hated each other.
At first, Seokjin had thought it was an imugi. In a way, he wasn't even wrong. It's just- he'd never seen an imugi that looked like this before.
It was curled in a tiny ball at the bottom of a crystal clear lake, heat radiating from its black scales. Its short mane looked like silver flames running down its long spine. Its eyes, when it opened them to look directly at a shocked Seokjin, were a bright crimson red.
You're not an imugi, Seokjin rumbled. His own pearly white scales flashed in the water, lips pulling back from sharp teeth as the serpent unfurled itself. A large hood unfurled from behind its head, its mouth unhinging to show off three pairs of fangs dripping with venom.
No. The gangcheori answered. I am not.
Seokjin had heard of this beast. The east had been whispering about it for the past couple centuries. The 'dark one'. No one really knew why the gangcheori existed. Just that they'd much rather it no longer did.
Seokjin let himself rise from the water, shining in the cave's steamy air as he let his presence grow to fill the small space. The gangcheori rose as far as it could until just its tail-tip remained in the water, but it could not follow Seokjin into the air. It might have been born an imugi, but it would never be a true dragon.
You are trespassing in my territory, Seokjin declared. Leave. Now. I will not ask again.
Seokjin might be young, but he still had eons on this beast. He really thought that would work.
The gangcheori's forked tongue slipped out to scent the air. Its creepy red eyes fell half shut as it swayed gently from side to side, its hood slowly relaxing.
No. I don't think I will.
Seokjin growled low in his throat, frosty air filling his mouth as he prepared to force the gangcheori out by force. Serpents didn't have much capacity for facial expressions, but Seokjin could swear it was smirking at him. Its crimson irises suddenly seemed to glow, silver mane erupting into flames that dripped down its scales like oil on water. Fire filled its mouth.
They were at a stalemate- Seokjin couldn't be hurt by its fire, but neither would the beast be hurt by Seokjin. If it didn't want to leave then there was little Seokjin could do to make it.
In that moment, Seokjin had never hated a single being more than he hated this infuriating gangcheori. Years later, he would look back and think that this might've been the exact moment he fell in love.
---
Seokjin chased the gangcheori for the better part of five centuries. It had stubbornly refused to leave his territory, turning that little cave into its own rocky home.
It took Seokjin three decades to figure out he'd never be able to stop the river from boiling. Eventually, they came to a truce. The gangcheori would lower the temperature to something less lethal, and Seokjin would stop freezing the lake he lived in.
That little river is mostly underground these days, pooling into natural hot springs across the bottom corner of Seokjin's territory. The humans loved them when they began moving in, the gangcheori's crooked fanged smirk making Seokjin's own blood boil when he noticed.
Sometime in the third century, another imugi, a true imugi, moved into Seokjin's territory. And he hated the gangcheori. Which, to be fair, was definitely mutual.
Seokjin remembered the first time he'd brought the baby dragon along to see if two on one would make the stubborn gangcheori finally leave, and instead, it'd been madder than Seokjin had ever seen it, writhing and hissing and spitting tongues of hot red flame at the other imugi.
Eventually, he'd had to step in to prevent them from killing each other. Seokjin, well, Seokjin didn't like the gangcheori, not at all. He'd spent the last three hundred years chasing it from one edge of his territory to the other trying to get it to finally cross the damned border, after all.
But- but Seokjin doesn't want the other creature to die. Its....unique. The only gangcheori in the world. And, well, when it's not doing its utmost to annoy the scales off of Seokjin, it's a fairly good citizen.
It huddled away in its cave, always alone, and did its best not to disturb anyone. The forest creatures had started to spend winters in the land beside its river, the warmth that radiated from its little cave keeping the worst of the snow away and preventing them from freezing on the worst nights.
Seokjin knew that the forest fires were on purpose. No doubt done just to irritate him and force him to come deal with it with yet another summer downpour. But the forest critters were always warned ahead of time, and the fires did an effective job of clearing the forests of dead underbrush. The soil left behind was rich with nutrients, and the trees grew up strong and healthy.
So, no- Seokjin did not like the gangcheori. But he- he didn't necessarily hate him anymore either.
---
By the time the fifth century was upon them, Seokjin had gone back to being the only dragon in his territory. It had grown over the years, stretching up the coast to encompass more land and streams.
He was the only Landmaster with a territory this size that didn't have any imugi to help him run it. To help maintain the land and protect its borders. Seokjin didn't really need them though. He had the gangcheori.
Other imugi, Seokjin had come to learn, would always hate the gangcheori. There was something deeply unsettling about the dark serpent, something the babies just couldn't seem to get over. Eventually, Seokjin just made peace with the fact that he would be the only dragon around.
He'd stopped trying to get the gangcheori to leave. For the most part, at least. He still chased him when he saw the gangcheori outside of his cave. Still growled at him and threatened him and ran all the best deer away because he knew those were his favorite.
The gangcheori still made forest fires pop up. Still made the river boil and blocked the caves off and spat fire-hot black rocks all around the mountains. He was annoying as all getout. But he never challenged Seokjin, never killed anyone, and didn't even mind the little humans that had begun poking around at his caves.
Sometimes, after a hard chase, they'd collapse on a half-burnt, half-frozen patch of plains and just lay there, gasping for air, and agree to a temporary truce. No words spoken.
Seokjin would roll over and throw icey water into the air, let it spin between them in intricate shapes and figures. The gangcheori would spit tiny tongues of flame at it, watch the two elements clash and meet and tangle together so that steam rose around the glowing twisting spectacle in the sky.
The gangcheori was smaller than Seokjin. He had no legs, no claws to dig into the earth with or let water slip through, and his head lacked the regal horn and luscious mane and long beard that Seokjin sported.
He would curl into a spiral, as small as he could make himself, and watch Seokjin weave water with bright red eyes. He was almost small enough that Seokjin could imagine, just for a second, curling around him, his own body long enough to embrace the young creature completely.
Under the sun and the light of the flames, Seokjin's pearly scales sparkled in scattered bits of red and orange and gold. For the longest time, Seokjin thought the gangcheori didn't have any shine to him.
For the longest time, Seokjin had been wrong.
The gangcheori didn't sparkle like Seokjin did, but he had a certain glossy sheen to him that made scales of green and blue and purple flash along his sides, like the deep dark waters of the ocean when Seokjin flew over it.
They were like two halves of a whole laying there. White and black. Red, orange, yellow and green, blue, purple. He told the gangcheori as much, flopped belly up on the grass, and he could've sworn the serpent smiled.
---
On the 193rd day of the 512th year--not that he was counting or anything--Seokjin watched the summer sun rise to meet the moon and made his way to the southeast corner of his territory.
The gangcheori was watching too. He'd crawled to the highest point of his patch of mountain, bright red eyes focused on the sky. On the little drop of pure light he could see gathering there.
It will be drawn here, you know, Seokjin greeted. His own eyes were turned upward. Nearly every dragons' on the peninsula would be.
The gangcheori's tongue flicked out nervously. Seokjin had gotten a lot better at reading him over the years. It is not meant for me.
Seokjin did his best version of a dragon shrug. It is meant for whoever it is meant for.
The Yeouiju--for that is what it was. Or, at least, what it might become--was not a common occurrence. Seokjin was a Great Dragon. On his 1000th birthday, one had simply appeared in the water of his home and he'd known it was meant for him.
For a lesser imugi, however, they had to be earned. And for most, that meant they had to be fought over. Any imugi of age within a territory when a Yeouiju fell was given permission by their Landmaster to try and be the one to catch it.
But Seokjin did not have any imugi in his territory. He only had the gangcheori.
It will not let me hold it, the serpent argued. Even if an imugi wins, that did not guarantee the Yeouiju would accept it. It didn't mean they would become a true dragon.
Seokjin looked at the sky. The glowing orb was closer than before, growing larger. There is only one way to find out.
The gangcheori uncurled slowly, his gaze leaving the sky to focus instead on Seokjin. He rose slowly into the air until the two were eye to eye. Seokjin got the impression he was smiling at him.
I would need permission, the serpent hissed. From my Landmaster.
Oh, he was definitely smiling at him. The gangcheori was not imugi. He was not one of Seokjin's subordinates. But- but he was something. And he was Seokjin's. That much, they both knew to be true.
So on the 193rd day of the 512th year after they first met, just as the moon's shadow settled onto the land, Seokjin watched the gangcheori carefully stretch out and let the glowing orb settle on the tip of his nose. A wave of pure light seemed to flow across his body, the gangcheori growing right before Seokjin's eyes.
When his brilliant red eyes blinked open, the gangcheori was nearly as long as Seokjin, his black scales glowing in the new light. Two antler-like horns stretched backward from his head, a short beard and thick mane rippling like silver flames.
In his claws laid a small black orb, and Seokjin had never been more speechless in all his life. One: because he had never heard of a Yeouiju being black before. And two: it was held in the gangch the dragon's claws. The dragon's four claws.
Only Great Dragons had four claws.
There was a shimmer, a puff of steam, and then- where a dragon once stood, there was now a tiny pale human with little black antlers and sleepy red eyes. Still speechless, Seokjin followed suit, shifting into a tall, broad-shouldered figure with wide blue eyes.
"You- you can shapeshift," he stated needlessly. Another thing only Great Dragons were supposed to be able to do.
"Guess so," the dragon said. He looked down at the shiny black orb in his hand. Seokjin did, too, gaze moving from the black ball to the slightly larger, glowing white one in his own grasp.
Seokjin swallowed hard. "There can't be two Great Dragons in a single territory," he said softly. He blinked, raising sad blue eyes to meet red.
"Yeah, well." A smirk tugged at the edge of pale pink lips. "Guess it's a good thing I'm not a real dragon."
"Then what are you?"
There was a pause. Red eyes dropped once more to the shiny orb. Its surface had a glossy black sheen to it, like a tar pit bubble. The ex-gangcheori shrugged.
"I'm Yoongi." And then, for the first time in his thousand years of life, the new dragon smiled. A real smile, wide and gummy and way more adorable than a fiery beast had any right being. And it was all for Seokjin.
He found the name quite fitting.