Chapter Text
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Fire enveloped the building in front of him, the soldiers running outside screaming orders to the ones nearby to help the injured ones. The structure cracks more and more with every passing minute. It wouldn’t resist much longer, not when half of it was already on the ground.
He could feel the chaos, the tense atmosphere, the confusion soaking into him everywhere. The smell of burning wood and skin entering his nose, the heat hitting his skin harshly, making the burn of his arm thrown more painfully. Every cell of his body screaming to get out of here, every protocol ingrained in his brain telling him to get back inside, back to safety, far from the chaos and death.
And yet.
And yet, Seokjin couldn’t seem to move.
This is my fault. I did this.
The destruction, the lives that were lost, the life he ruined. All it was his fault. And yet, he hasn't even lifted a finger. He hasn't moved much, really. Just a couple of smiles, some lies, and a lot of misplaced trust, and everything has gone shit.
He should feel guilty. He knows he is guilty. But Seokjin doesn’t feel anything. Maybe when the adrenaline abandons his body and he is back in the safety of his quarters, he would feel it. Maybe. But now, he is paralyzed by the chaos he created.
“We need to get out of here,” someone says, grabbing his good arm. He blinked once, twice at the still burning building, before turning his head to his oldest friend. “Come on,” he insists, tugging his arm but he continues to be stuck on the site. “Don’t make me carry you like a sack of potatoes again.”
That seems to do the trick because his legs react and, slowly, move back inside the castle.
Inside isn’t much better: the staff palace running around, trying to accommodate the injured and attending to their wounds. But, despite that, they still cleared the way to let their Crown Prince pass. He doesn’t stop or look around much to see the faces of the people whose injuries he has helped to make, and walks deeper into the castle, the hand of his guard on his back gently guiding.
The deeper they get, the calmer everything seems. Seokjin almost could fool him and believe that nothing happened, that he is just walking around the palace to get to his next meeting and complaining to Hoseok about how unnecessarily big this place is.
Almost.
The royal infirmary is empty, the doctor and nurse probably helping the rest at the barracks. It doesn’t matter, he knows how to attend a little burn.
“Sit there,” Hoseok says, pointing at the cot while he walks to inspect the cabinets. Seokjin does and without being told, he starts to remove his left arm from the silk shirt he was wearing, carefully not touching his burned skin. It is small, maybe just a couple of centimeters on his bicep but is dark red, some blisters already appearing. He heard his friend whistle walking to his side. “That gonna leave a scar,” he mentioned before snickering, Seokjin glares at him but is pointedly ignored. “Let me heal you, your Royal Highness,” said with a teasing smile.
Slowly, like they have all the time in the world, Seokjin lets himself be taken care of. They don’t say much besides the hisses he couldn’t stop when the burn was touched and the teasing giggles that followed. Instead, he looked out of the window, at the sunset sky in all its golden glory. The smoke column seems to be mocking him.
The King already knows what happened, he is sure, and probably knows who caused it too. He only hopes the boy was fast enough and is already far away.
“Are you okay?” Hoseok asks as he finishes fasting the bandage. He hums in response. “What are you thinking?”
“That I fucked up.”
He snickered again, “That you did,” and pats the bandage because he is a little shit like that. Seokjin swats his hand but the other walks away without caring, putting the implements he used away. “But it worked, didn't it?”
Seokjin makes a disgusted face, “It’s not what I wanted though, not how I wanted it to happen.”
“What are you gonna do?” Hoseok asked after a moment.
“I don’t know. The King probably already knows about it and I’m sure that bastard Minho already is raving about how right he was about it- him,” he sighs deeply, dragging his hand over his face. “I don’t want to hear shit from him or any of them, really.”
Hoseok hums, again in front of him, helping him to put his shirt back, even if it is below saving but it is better than being half naked when they inevitably come for him. The gesture is kind, more kind than he deserves, not when he is more worried about what is going to happen to himself than the real victim here.
“Do you think he is okay?” His stomach twists painfully, “You don’t think they got him, right? They may have him now and who knows what they're gonna do with him. I do know and it’s not nice and–.”
A hand over his mouth stops from ranting. “He is okay, I made sure of it,” Hoseok assures him with a small smile.
He grabs his friend's wrist, trying to remove his hand but he doesn't budge much. Seokjin kept holding it anyway, like an anchor. “Someone could have seen you, they–,” the shake of Hoseok's head make him stop.
“I made sure they couldn’t speak about it, it’s okay,” Hoseok removes his hand from his mouth and lets them hang his side.
His eyes bulge for a second, the implications of his words clear to him. It should worry him, it really should, but instead, relief washes over him, making him breathe a little easier. The tension leaves his shoulders and he decides to embrace it, even if it’s only for a moment. Seokjin lets his head rest on Hoseok’s shoulder, his hand still gripping his wrist, and lets out the shaking breath he was holding. Hoseok runs his free hand on his back, and Seokjin lets himself be comforted.
“This is so shit,” the prince says after some minutes of complete silence.
“It is,” his guard agrees, “but you’re gonna fix it.”
“I don’t know how,” the prince says, voice shaking and gripping his wrist harder. “I feel like I’m just gonna make it worse.”
Hoseok pulls him away and looks at him frowning for a second before grabbing his face between his hands, “You gonna fix it.” He doesn’t say it like it is an order, like something he must do, but like it’s something he is sure he is gonna do no matter what. Seokjin isn’t sure if he is worthy of so much trust, especially not after what he caused today, but he couldn’t bring himself to disappoint one more person today, so he just nods as much as he can. “Good. You're gonna fix it and gonna get your brat back.”
“He is your brat, too,” he points out.
“You gonna fix it and gonna get our brat back,” he corrects himself and Seokjin couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on his face. “Now, get yourself together because I can hear footsteps coming,” he plants a quick kiss on his forehead before letting him go.
True to his words, only a second later a loud knock is heard on the door and without waiting for an answer, the door opens. Hoseok stands in front of him, tall and firm on his stand to protect him from everything and everyone. He can’t see who is the one that entered from his position and they can’t see him either but it isn’t hard to guess anyway. Wherever Hoseok is, Seokjin is nearby.
“Ah, you are here, your Royal Highness,” Dong Minho, the general of Kurian’s army, says with more disappointment in his voice than he should have when addressing someone of his position. Not that it is surprising anyway. “We were looking for you. The King requires your presence.”
“I believe that entering the room where your Crown Prince is receiving medical attention without permission is a big sign of disrespect, General Dong,” Hoseok says without hesitation. His protective instinct goes beyond the physical aspect.
Any day he would be grateful for it, he still is, but right now it will just drag the inevitable longer and he is tired, so tired. So he stands up before the general can respond and puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says to him in a whisper, and Hoseok frowns his lips at him. “I will go now, thanks,” he said to Dong, who seemed more pleased that this exchange grants.
The general turns around and walks out of the infirmary. Seokjin follows him but is stopped when Hoseok grabs his arm. Before he can ask, he removes his uniform jacket and wraps it around his shoulders. It is a little tight, his guard’s frame smaller than his, but it warms his heart regardless. He gives him one last tight smile before walking out, Hoseok right behind him.
“The King wants to talk with you, alone,” the general mentions. Hoseok looks at him with a deadpan expression for a second before turning around to continue walking like nothing happened. Seokjin bites down the smile that wants to appear on his face at the angry expression the general is wearing.
“My guard will accompany me to the Throne room,” he says calmly to the general before turning to his friend, “and then I will enter alone to talk with my father.” Hoseok doesn’t seem pleased by it if the frown he is portraying is an indication of anything, but he doesn’t have the energy to deal with a petty fight that will most likely happen if he doesn’t stop them immediately.
The walk was short, just a couple of minutes since they were already in the Royal Wing. Maybe the palace wasn’t big enough after all, not kind enough to give him just a couple more minutes to compose himself. The grand doors of the throne room in front of him seem more intimidating than ever now. They never were the most welcoming anyway, even when the thought that everything behind those doors are going to be his someday cross his mind. That’s if he manages to survive this reunion.
With a deep breath and a last reassuring glaze from Hoseok, he walks through the door with general Dong behind him.
The scene is more or less like he imagined. Members of the council are there, shouting frantically with each other. The Queen sits on her own throne, paler than ever, like she has seen death in front of her. And the King pacing from left to right in front of his throne, face painted red with fury.
The doors close and everyone’s heads snap toward him, talk and pacing stopping. None of their glares are friendly, but they all vary from disappointment, pity, and the heavier of them, rage. He stops walking just a couple of meters in front of the King and Queen, straightening his posture and schooling his expression into a mask of composure even if he is terrified inside.
“Your Majesty, I heard that you were looking for me,” he manages to say, breaking the tense silence that was enveloping the room.
The King looks at him and his scowl gets deeper and, somehow, his face becomes more red. It only takes him a couple of steps to be in front of Seokjin and less than a second to strike him with his hand open with enough force to make him stagger a step to the side. It stings. It stings his face and, he is sure it is going to leave a red mark. It stings his ego, being humiliated in front of the people one day will work for him, the ones that have to show him respect but now see him as nothing but a chastised child. It stings his heart too, even if he’s never gonna admit it out loud, how his parents never harbored any affection, much less love for him, to even consider the consequences their actions will have on their kingdom, on him, if the people knew what happens behind these doors.
It stings. But Seokjin holds back everything, all the resentment and anger and sadness, and just stands tall once again, keeping the same composure on his semblance. Instead, he looks behind his father, out of the window and to the mountain in the distance.
This only makes the King angrier. “What were you thinking?” He shouts, abandoning any pretense of a benevolent and kind king. He never was a good actor anyway. “This is your damn fault. I always knew that thing was plotting something. How many times did I tell you that your… relationship with it was an awful idea? And look now what it did! Half of our army is heavily injured, if not dead! You knew about this, didn't you? Was it your way to rebel against us? To stage a coup against your own kingdom?”
“I did not do such a thing. And neither did he,” he defends calmly.
“Bullshit! You know about how Sidoria has been on our back trying to attack us and what did you do? Almost kill all of our soldiers?” The King grabs Seokjin by the collar and drags him near his face, “Are you with them? Did you betray your kingdom?”
He stares directly into his father's eyes. “I did not,” says firmly. “This was not more than a sad accident that I’m very sorry about.” The King held his stare and he did the same, without any hesitation. Just a couple seconds later, he let him go.
“Stupid child,” he mutters walking away, back to his throne. “Your stupid actions will ruin us, when are you gonna grow up?”
“I will make sure that soldiers from our other bases come here to cover for the injured and lost soldiers,” Seokjin says instead, ignoring his comment. “And I will personally talk with the dukes to gain their support in this.”
The King grunts while sitting, the Queen patting his hand, a more affectionate gesture that the occasion granted. “I don’t care. General Dong,” he calls and the man appears at his side, “how is the search for the criminal?”
“No sign of it yet but my men are still working on it,” he answers.
He grunts again, “Good. I want that thing executed as soon as possible,” Seokjin’s breath hitch for a second before returning to normalcy, “and its head put on a spike so everyone can see you don’t simply mess with me.”
“As you wish, your Majesty,” Dong bows his head to him.
“And you,” the King says to him again, “why are you still here? Get out, I don’t want to see your face right now.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He bows once to them and ignoring everyone else, he walks out of the room. Hoseok is still outside, waiting for him. It takes just a look at him to know how bad it went, his friend knows him better than anyone. He doesn’t ask and Seokjin doesn’t tell, they just walk away from there.
It isn’t until they are behind the closed doors of Seokjin’s office that he speaks. “Are you okay?” His voice is more careful than when he asked earlier, empty of the usual teasing with which Hoseok always addresses him. “Your cheek…” his hand hovers over it, unsure if could touch it or not.
Seokjin takes his hand and drags it down, enveloping it with his, “I’m okay,” he assures him. Hoseok nods even if doesn’t seem sure. “Dong has his men searching him, they… they want to execute him.”
He feels the other’s hand twitch on his hold, but his expression gets serious. “They won’t,” assures him.
“They won’t,” Seokjin agrees with him. “I won’t let them. I will burn this whole place before they have the chance. But we need to find him before they do.” Seokjin held his hand firmly, “Hoseok, I need you to find Jungkook. Now.”