Archive of Our Own ^beta

When they came for his home, it was dawn. Jimin had spent the grueling hours of the day locked away in the cellar, safe from the horrors that swept through the village, with his shawl wrapped tight around his shoulders. When the last of the sentinels had deserted the village, it was dusk. With trembling legs he had taken up a blackened lantern that he lit with his shivering fingers and set out of the shelter. The shawl wrapped around his shoulders kept the cold at bay but his ears turned as red as the blood that had seeped into the soil. Fresh snow had settled over the carcasses and while his eyes fell on a grieving few kneeling in the ground, he hardened his heart to brave the snow and did the one thing he had set out to do — escape. 

Now, he stands on the frozen river as the pale light of his lantern shines upon the mirror surface. With alert eyes and tired knees, Jimin walks; his wet silver hair falls upon his face and his gray eyes are dimmed. Up at a distance Jimin thinks he sees the snowy peaks and that is where he wants to go : where the snow is colder but the cold only ensures safety and warmer fires. The first brush of snow is light on Jimin's cheek, like a brush stroke on a blank canvas but soon it snows like specks of rice falling from the sky and Jimin’s tired eyes dream of rice balls by the hearth. The light inside the glass of the lantern flickers, the light in Jimin’s dim but a little more . Just a little more. Till the mountains seem closer. 

Then, he falls. It feels like a rush at first, the sound is almost non existent except for a deafening splash when he falls. Ah, relief in my joints, Jimin thinks. The horror seeps in later when he tries and tries and tries to move his arms, to escape out of the cold water, but his weak attempts don't get momentum and the shrieks that threaten to escape from his lips are swallowed by the water that seeps in between his teeth. As his lips turn blue, all Jimin wants is to live. If I live, Jimin thinks, I shall utter prayers to the pantheon for the rest of my life. 

Just as the light of his eyes gray and the heavy cold knocks out the fight from his bones, his lithe body is pulled up by sturdy hands. The rush of air feels a tad warmer and Jimin thinks, if there's a deity that he’d spend his rest of his life devoted to, this shall be them. This, the warmth that pulls him from the icy grip of death, is what would paint the skies of the pantheon in which he fell to his knees before as a child. Life and air were such sweet sweet things. Before the darkness clouds his eyes, all he feels is the brush of fingers on his hair and the calls of a voice that sounds weak to his tired ears.  

[ 🦋 ]

The light is blinding when he awakes, the smell of firewood fills his nostrils and his legs are tangled up in the pleasant warmth of furs. Jimin smiles. For a while, he thinks he is home. It takes a few seconds before his eyes fly open again because home is no more and the walls that he wakes to are unfamiliar. He sits up, startled, and holds onto the brown blankets with shaky fingers. The room around him is made of wood, a dying fire warms the small fireplace and dried flowers are hung on the walls. The bed he lays on isn't his own and the robes slung around his body feel lighter on his skin. 

“You're awake.” A smooth voice slithers under his skin, surprising him, he looks towards the door where a man stands with a wooden tub in his hands. His hair curls around his nape, the tattoo of a butterfly rests on the base of his throat, heavy furs are slung around his frame and there's a slight pink flush to his skin. “That's good. You've been sleeping for a while now.” But it's his eyes that draw Jimin in, they're sparkling like stars and he feels the cells in his body sing. 

“Where am I?” He asks in a hushed voice, flexing his fingers around the blankets, “who are you?” The man steps into the room and places the tub by the mattress. Jimin's curious eyes spot his washed clothes in the wooden container. 

“You're in my home,” the man says comfortingly, “I’m Jeongguk and I found you drowning in the river.” He sits on the floor, a few meters away from where Jimin sits, and folds his hands over his knees. 

“Did you save my life?” Jimin asks, running a nervous hand through his silver hair. 

“I think I did.” The man — Jeongguk — hums. “Don’t know if you’ll appreciate me saving you, though.” Jimin thinks he sees the tips of Jeongguk's fingers glow with a pale glimmer. Jimin shakes his head slightly. 

“I owe you my life.” He says, folding his knees under him on the mattress and bowing. “I shall pay you back one day.” 

“You don't have to,” he springs up, hands awkwardly reaching towards the smaller’s bowed frame but thinking better and curling up by his sides “what is your name?” 

“Jimin,” the silver haired boy looks up and smiles. A thrush sings somewhere as traversed by the wind. 

[ 🦋 ] 

On the first night that Jimin spends in Jeongguk's house while recovering from his ailment, he finds out that the other man is certainly not human. He sits by the hearth wrapped up in Jeongguk's fur coats and clothes while the both of them slurp stew from their bowls. 

“Why were you out in the cold?” Jimin quietly asks, wanting to know more about his saviour.

Jimin sees a glow under Jeongguk's fingertips before he answers coldly, “why were you out in the cold?” That promptly shuts him up. He goes back to slurping his stew.  He can feel the sparks under Jeongguk's fingertips brush around the walls of the house and he knows he is not human. But that's okay. 

[ 🦋 ] 

The area surrounding Jeongguk's house must have had green grass sometime, unlike the white sheet of snow that coats it. The barren branches of a tree poke through his kitchen window and a now broken fence suggests that the house had once been well secured. Despite the barrenness of the land and the ice in the river, food in Jeongguk's house is never scarce. He brings Jimin the reddest of apples and makes him the thickest of herbal medicines. 

“What would you like to do when the snow lifts?” Jeongguk asks him often, his voice is as warm as hot honey and Jimin can feel it dripping inside his crevices. 

“I don't know,” Jimin shrugs, pulling his shawl closer and curling inwardly, “maybe I shall go see the grass.” There is an innate longing in Jimin’s voice and perhaps Jeongguk would like to question him about it, but he never does. Jeongguk leaves the silver haired to his own devices after his heavy words and scrambles off to get him his herbal medicine. When he returns with the concoction in his palms, he finds Jimin lost in the thoughts plaguing his mind. 

“Jeongguk?” Jimin asks with the wooden bowl of bitter concoction held up to his lips. Jeongguk hums, urging him to continue. “When do you think the snow will lift?” He asks and proceeds to drown the concoction in a single go. The taller man doesn't answer for a long time. Jimin doesn't think Jeongguk will answer and opts to stare at the fire crackling in their makeshift fireplace. 

“I think…” Jeongguk starts after a while, “I think the snow will lift when the right time comes. For now, we should just endure.” 

“But how long must we endure it for?” Jimin counters defensively, a sudden note of hysteria slips in, startling the other. “I might not look like it, but I miss home. ” 

Jimin truly doesn't look like it, he stays inside the house for most of the day choosing to stare longingly at the snow outside. He eats what Jeongguk makes him and sometimes helps with lighting up the firewood. He doesn't ask for much and converses with Jeongguk when he wants to and when Jeongguk encourages him to and does not question about things Jeongguk does not want him to question. All in all, Jimin is a pleasant person to live with. It comes to the other as a surprise that Jimin, sweet pleasant Jimin who himself had asked Jeongguk if he could live with him till he recovers, feels this way. 

“If you don't like living like this,” Jeongguk slowly approaches, eyes scanning over the silver head, his slanted eyes, pink cheeks and glistening lips stained with the herbal medicine, “I can take you … I can assist you back home. Even before you recover and even before the snow lifts.” 

“You don't understand, Jeongguk,” Jimin shakes his head, sadness filtering in mixing with exasperation, “you don't understand.” 

Jeongguk hates himself for not understanding. 

“Then…” Jeongguk slowly starts, careful not to startle Jimin too much, “maybe, you can help me understand?” 

“Help you understand?” Jimin asks, his puzzled eyes trying to figure out what Jeongguk wants. The latter nods in affirmation. 

“Why don't you tell me what you mean by missing home? If you don't want to go back?” Jeongguk sits down opposite to Jimin, “if we want to live in close proximity with each other, don't you think we should start opening up more about ourselves?” Jimin looks like he contemplates it for a few minutes. 

“Uhh…” he starts with lips sticky with the medicine “where I am from, winter is not something very welcomed,” Jeongguk's kind eyes urges him to continue, “in the village, our lives and activities are spent in the joys of the summers and autumns while we prepare for winters and then celebrate spring. There's this … homesickness I feel when I think that the village must be letting go of their winter sorrows and slowly start to prepare for spring festivities.” 

“So,” Jeongguk concludes, “you do want to go home.” 

“No!” Jimin shakes his head. “I don't want to go home, per se, I want to be a part of festivities.” 

Jeongguk does not know what to say to this, 

[ 🦋 ] 

Jimin never asks for anything from Jeongguk, so it comes as a surprise when after two weeks of living with him, Jimin asks him for azaleas. Flowers don't bloom in snow, Jeongguk knows it, but he can't refuse the former’s teary eyes and caves in. The smile Jimin gives him is worth it. 

When he sends Namjoon to scour the Earth for the flowers and when Namjoon returns with a basket full of them, Jeongguk assumes Jimin must want to eat the flowers. He doesn't expect the latter to burn them. 

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk's voice comes out more imploring than he means to. 

“A… ” Jimin sounds almost hesitant in his answer. “You’ll find out.” Jimin scatters the burnt petals of the azaleas in his room and lights up a candle he had somehow magically procured from Jeongguk’s shabby kitchen. He places the candle in the center of the circle of burnt petals and waits till the candle melts to a certain degree. 

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk tries asking again. 

“Please stand by the door.” Jimin requests, still not looking at Jeongguk. “Do not step into the room.” The impassiveness in Jimin’s voice almost drives Jeongguk mad but he obeys and watches as Jimin keeps a wooden bowl full of apples inside the circle. 

Pleased with his arrangements in the room, the silver head finally steps into the ring. He dons one of Jeongguk’s white robes sans the warm coating of the furs and shoes. Barefeet and with trembling hands, he brings himself to his knees, and bows five times. After the fifth bow he takes the azalea ash and smears it on his palms; he holds up the wooden bowl and utters silently into the stuffed air of the room, the only sound that prevails is the crackling of fire and the wisps of Jeongguk’s breath. 

Jimin places the wooden bowl back in its place and hangs his head low with his hands locked in a prayer and whispers and quiet murmurings escape his lips. Belatedly, Jeongguk realizes it is a ritual of sorts. 

Even later does the realization come to him, when Jimin is writhing on the floor surrounded by azalea ash, that he is praying to the summer deity. 

[ 🦋 ] 

When Jimin wakes up from his uneventful slumber, it is evening. The sky is purple beyond the river and the birds must return homewards. His small lithe frame is swaddled with blankets, the fire is lit, the room is cleared of the burnt petals and Jeongguk is sitting quietly by his bedside with a washcloth in his hands. Sweet, quiet Jeongguk who had, without a question, let Jimin into his home. 

“You’ve woken up.” Jeongguk softly says, wiping Jimin’s forehead with the washcloth. Jimin can feel the tiny sparks that glitter under Jeongguk's fingertips like stardust. “You must be hungry.” 

“I am not.” Jimin replies, his voice and body frail with the ritual, “I am sorry for the trouble you went through.” 

“It's okay,” the raven head says, the butterfly on his throat moving with the rise and fall of his breath, Jimin lifts a shaking hand to the other man's throat. His fingertips brush against the butterfly and Jimin thinks that Jeongguk would've gotten along well with Taehyung. Tears well up in the mirror of Jimin's eyes when his mind flashes to Taehyung in his red robes with sugar dusting his redder lips. “Do you feel okay?” Jeongguk adds, wrapping his calloused stardust coated fingers around Jimin’s wrist and holding it to his chest. 

“I do.” Jimin replies, “the ritual does no physical damage, it just takes an amount of my Yang energy causing an imbalance. I shall be fine after a few days of rest.” 

“I shall see to it that your Yang energy is replenished.” Jeongguk says with finality and lets Jimin's arm drop. 

“You don't need to.” The silver head protests. “I am grateful that you let me use your house as I please. Thank you. You have done enough. I shall pay you back one day.” 

“You don't need to thank me.” Jeongguk gets up with the washbasin in his hands. “Please rest.” Jimin finds himself wishing that Jeongguk would stay longer. 

[ 🦋 ] 

Over the next few days, Jeongguk somehow miraculously procured ingredients with Yang energy for Jimin, cooking them to perfection — duck meat in stew, heavy ginger infused concoctions, varieties of nuts, among others. In return, Jimin let Jeongguk know bits of information about his past. 

“I was a devotee of summer,” Jimin says on a day that is grayed by a snowstorm raging outside and Jeongguk has no option but to stay indoors, “I was the only summer devotee back in my village. The Voice of the deity, who is his subordinate and helper, had chosen me himself.” 

“He had come himself?” Jeongguk asks surprised with Jimin’s voice. 

“That's unheard of, right?” the silver head chuckles “he came swathed in his orange robes and flushed cheeks and stopped right outside of our hut. My birth father fell on his knees and burned jasmine incense for the voice and my birth mother had strung him a garland of marigolds. He wanted neither. He wanted me.” 

“How old were you?” 

“I was…” Jimin thinks for a while, “I was around six? I think. I didn't start working as a devotee till I was seventeen. I am twenty three now, my memory of childhood is hazy.” 

“You must have been tired with the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Jeongguk slipped his calloused hand in his soft one, gripping it as a sign of comfort. 

“I wasn't!” Jimin shakes his head wistfully. “I had a friend in my helper, my parents coddled me till they had to leave the earth, the deity was kind, the other devotees in the pantheon liked me and I was respected.” 

“You were happy.” Jeongguk's hand loosens its hold on Jimin’s palm. 

“I was happy.” Jimin echoes, tightening his grip on Jeongguk's hand. 

“Tell me about a time you were happy too.” Jimin coaxes, trying to know more about the man he shares a roof with. Jeongguk seems to think for a long time while he twiddles with his thumbs and then, his eyes sparkle. 

“I don’t remember much, if I’m being honest,” Jeongguk starts with a contagious smile, “but there was a time, it was really long ago, that me and one of my friends went to a fishing village by the sea?” 

“By the sea?” Jimin interrupts, wonder shining in his voice. 

“Yes,” Jeongguk nods, “a fishmonger invited us to his thatched hut and made us necklaces of conch. His wife cooked us fish. My friend and I lay under the stars while the waves roared at a distance. I remember feeling content. Happy and content.” In Jimin’s grip, Jeongguk’s hand glows with a bright kind of silver. 

[ 🦋] 

"A friend and I," Jimin starts, neatly folding the furs and arranging them by his mattress while Jeongguk wipes down the small table on which he had laid down food for the evening, "we used to frequent taverns a lot." 

"Bet you were a lightweight." Jeongguk winks from where he sits now with legs folded and bitter alcohol poured in cups. 

"I was not!" A startled laugh falls from Jimin's lips, "I'll let you know I was an excellent drinker. All of us were good drinkers, we had to sneak back inside the pantheon after all. No one likes seeing worshippers drinking and goofing around." 

"That's a cruel life." Jeongguk comments, observing the way Jimin's shoulders tense slightly with his words. 

"I won't say it's easy per se," the other man gets up from folding the blankets and sits down opposite him, "it definitely had its difficult moments, but it made a certain kind of belief for a higher entity grow in me; it made me feel special." 

"Did you ever want to be something different from what you are?" 

"Now that, Jeongguk," Jimin utters with tense shoulders and a teasing pout, “is something I might only tell you after a drink or two. For now, I'll let you know that everyone in the tavern vied for my hand." 

"Of course they did!" Jeongguk laughs, "you are beautiful." Jeongguk sees his drinking partner's ears turn red. 

"Let's just drink." Jimin splutters, picks up a cup and downs a shot of the rice wine. 

Jeongguk learns, as the night grows older, that Jimin is indeed a lightweight who likes to call him Koo Koo. He doesn't know anymore what his insides are made of — he guesses it could be syrup. 

[🦋] 

A week later, on a full moon night, Jeongguk does not return home. Jimin doesn't realize it at first, his body is too tired from conducting another ritual a few days prior. When he does realize that his companion is late, night had settled thick above the snow and fire was dwindling. Jimin dragged his body up from the ground and with his aching legs he walked to the living room. There was no fire in the fireplace and no food laid down covered by cloth — Jeongguk did not know that he would return home late. 

All of a sudden, Jimin realizes the true dangers of the area they live in. He has seen the world outside from the windows of Jeongguk's cabin. He hasn't stepped a foot outside in the eight weeks that he has stayed with the other in fear of the sentinels tracking him down. As Jimin slinks down on the cold hard floor with his shawl tightly wrapped around his aching body, he prays. He prays to the summer deity with yellow robes and mellow hair to hear the pleas that erupt from within his chest. Prayers aren't effective without a ritual but he does it anyway. He prays to the deity to bring Jeongguk back to him. 

When the prayers cease to fall from his lips and the wind in his lungs seem to get colder, Jimin slowly starts to lose hope and the thought alone terrifies him. He wishes he could pray more, but he is tired and he wants to sleep. The fear coursing in him, however, keeps him awake. 

When the door to the cabin finally cracks open, Jimin’s frail body is trembling with cold and the inside of his mouth tastes sour. 

“Jimin?” Jeongguk’s gruff voice calls out seeing a figure huddled on the floor. “Jimin!” Jimin makes a humming sound, finally relieved that Jeongguk is here and he can go to sleep. Maybe if he wasn't freezing and his mind wasn't a mess he would be enthusiastic and would've shed a few tears. The chill of being in Jeongguk's grasp hits Jimin like a freight train. He feels the other's broader frame looming above him and the lack of his beating heart from where his cheek is pressed against his chest, his calloused hands move up and down Jimin’s arms to give them warmth. Despite it not working, the chill seeping into the pores of the room, Jimin feels like blossoming. 

When he cracks his eyelids open, Jimin sees the rough material of Jeongguk's fur coat and when he cranes his neck in search of the other’s face, for the first time, Jimin sees the contours of the other's cheekbones up close, he notices a scar on the other's eyebrow and he notices his irises turn a bone chilling shade of gray. 

“Jeongguk?” Jimin asks later when the early hours of the morning have arrived. The fire is newly lit and Jimin's tongue feels a little lighter and his stomach is heavier with stew. Jeongguk poised at his bedside hums in encouragement. “Where did you go?” 

“We were low on food,” the other answers, “I had to travel farther and lost track of time.” 

“You scared me,” the silver head huffs, “don't do that.” 

“I won't.” Jeongguk looks reprimanded and Jimin sees the stars in his black irises dim with guilt. 

“I was…” Jimin speaks, lifting a hand and resting it on Jeongguk's cheek. “I was scared for you .” The skin under Jimin's palm tingles. 

“Jeongguk?” He asks. 

“Yes?” The man at his bedside chimes. 

“Why haven't you asked me to leave?” 

“I have someone to come back to now, Jimin.” 

Jimin, once again, feels like a flower. 

[ 🦋 ] 

Jimin shivers under Jeongguk's fingertips that rest on his brow. Jeongguk frowns, worried that he might be waking up, but he turns in his sleep and nuzzles into the furs with a small groan of discomfort, his ankles peek out from underneath the thick blankets. Jeongguk feels relief flood him and tucks the other's feet back inside the blanket. 

"When you wake up," Jeongguk murmurs into the dark, "I promise you shall feel better." 

When he returns back to the room. Jeongguk sees Jimin laying awake on the mattress staring up at the wooden ceiling of his room. A pot of broth with meat and broth, rich with yang energy, is heavy in his hands as he trudges to Jimin's bedside. 

"You're awake." Jeongguk says when Jimin's unfocused eyes fall on him, "I made broth, it's easy to digest and has lots of meat. Don't you like meat, Jimin?" He brushes a fringe off Jimin's forehead. Jimin nods, Jeongguk slips his arm around the other's shoulders and helps him sit up. 

"You didn't have to," Jimin coughs, "I would be fine without meat today, our supply is low." His arms lay limply at his sides and his body feels heavy with weakness. 

"You don't have to worry about our supply, sweetheart," the word falls from Jeongguk's lips like the occasional snow in early winter while he stirs the duck meat broth with a spoon, "you just have to worry about getting better." He holds the spoon up to Jimin's lips and watches his mouth close around the utensil. His eyes fall on the way Jimin's Adam's apple bobs as he takes a gulp and when his eyes move back to the other's eyes, he sees a satisfied look settling in them. Satisfaction bubbles up in the taller man's body, Jimin likes the food.

"It's good?" He urges Jimin into a conversation. holding another spoonful to his mouth. Jimin nods with a shy smile, and Jeongguk senses the discomfort that grows under Jimin's skin. 

"I looked after a sick person once," Jeongguk tries to dispel the discomfort cloying in Jimin's body while feeding him spoonfuls, "he was the absolute worst. His name is Namjoon and he is my friend. I brought him boiled apples to ensure his upset stomach got better.”

"What do you think? Did Namjoon get better?" Jeongguk asks, wiping the dribbling soup off from Jimin's chin with his fingers. He holds up a cup of water for Jimin to sip on. 

"I'm sure he did." Jimin nods with a smile. "You're a good healer." 

"He didn't!" Jeongguk's voice is tinged with incredulousness "one day, I spotted him feeding it to the birds after he convinced me to leave saying that he can feed himself. Turns out, he despises apples." Jimin giggles at the look on Jeongguk's face. 

"So," Jeongguk says, "you're the best patient I have had, Jimin." 

When Jimin falls asleep later that night, Jeongguk lays down beside him to keep a watchful eye over him. The anecdote that he cited earlier might be made up, Jeongguk thinks, but the smile on Jimin's face was worth it. 

[ 🦋 ] 

After he recovers, the first thing Jimin asks Jeongguk to do is take him outside. The world outside Jeongguk's house is swathed in white, from sturdy boulders to the heavy leaves of the pine trees, everything Jimin sees is covered by a heavy blanket of snow. He calculates that the cabin is at an altitude higher than he had imagined and it was truly of wonder that a valley human like him had survived so far in the mountains. Jimin, in his own perception, undoubtedly owes it all to Jeongguk. 

"Are you alright?" Jeongguk's voice comes from Jimin's left, a steady grip settles on his arm. There's a furrow of concern in Jeongguk's eyebrows as he watches Jimin who is blanketed in his numerous furs and scarves. 

"Yes," Jimin says, his breath fans out of his lips like wisps of grey smoke, "are you?" His cheekbones make way for a sweet smile. Jeongguk feels something in his old body ache, it makes him wish that he knew what the feeling is.

"Of course." Jeongguk answers, holding on to Jimin's arm tighter. His world feels mellow. 

Jimin sits by the hearth with a cup of warm brew in his hands while they wait for the soup to be finished — the sight does wonders to sooth the mother hen that Jeongguk's heart is.  Every day, while they wait for their meal, the two men occupying the cabin converse about the kind of life they led before and without a doubt, it is the taller man's highlight of the day.  

"When I visited the pantheon as a child," today Jimin speaks about his life as a devotee, "I met my fellow worshipper." Or perhaps he is speaking about a friend. However, Jeongguk cannot help but worry, devotees are known to lead unkind lives. 

"Was he kind?" Jeongguk questions, stirring the soup. 

"Very," Jimin smiles, his eyes forming half moons, and the other wants to wrap him up in the most delicate fabrics lest something harms him, "his name is Taehyung, the friend I told you about before. He used to be a devotee of the Autumn deity. We spent afternoons in the shrines and nights together weaving through the bustling areas of the village. We were so, so happy. It felt like the world was at our feet." 

Jeongguk feels the turning point in this story rapidly approaching, there always is a climax in happy tales, so he lets go of the ladle and asks, "what happened after that? Where is he now?" 

"He left the valley." The silver head stops smiling. "They chased him out. They wanted a new devotee, so they stormed into the shrine like a band of wild animals ready to gut Taehyung alive." Tears pool in Jimin's kind eyes making them shine like mirrors. Jeongguk wants to hold him close, wants to wipe his tears and wants the warmth of Jimin's eyes to return, but he opts to sit still and listen. 

"I couldn't do it, Jeongguk," he continues, "I couldn't let them do it. I couldn't bear to see the quiet acceptance and grief in my friend's eyes, I couldn't bear the ashen pallor of his face. Even his deity had abandoned him. I helped him escape, wrapped him in furs and thrust him into the dark of the night. I hid in the cellars of my birth home while they wrung the village red while obliterating any resistance. They've been hunting me ever since and I'm so, so scared. There was so much bloodshed in the village. They killed anyone who tried to stop them and anyone who was in the vicinity of my home.” 

 All of a sudden, it makes sense to Jeongguk — Jimin on the frozen river with the scent of death clinging to his clothes, Jimin wanting to stay with Jeongguk despite being strangers, Jimin's desperation in performing rituals so as to not have a fallout with his deity and Jimin's reluctance in leaving the sanctity of Jeongguk's cabin — the missing pieces all come together now. 

"Who are 'they', Jimin?" Jeongguk asks, slipping an arm around Jimin's shoulders and pulling him gently to his side. 

"The sentinels of the king." Jimin's tears fall. He murmurs in a broken voice, "I don't fear death Jeongguk, I fear not knowing if my friend has survived." 

"You shall live, Jimin." Jeongguk looks down at the other's tear streaked face and sees the reflection of his amber eyes.

[ 🦋 ] 

If only Jimin knew how to pray to the other deities, he possibly would. The silence of the summer deity drives him a certain kind of crazy that makes him wonder why he had been chosen in the first place and then gives way to the niggling fear that his deity had also abandoned him like Taehyung’s had. 

“You're worrying,” comes Jeongguk’s quiet and steady voice. “Don't worry, or else you might have permanent creases on your forehead.” A glance at the other tells Jimin that the taller man speaks in jest. 

“It's difficult,” Jimin shrugs, “worrying is stitched into my being.” 

“Find something else to distract you, maybe?” Jeongguk flails his hands to gesture around his close knit home. 

“Well,” A snort escapes Jimin's lips and mirth pools in his eyes, “unless it involves praying, what else can a devotee do?” 

“Maybe it’s time you rediscovered yourself, Jimin.” Jeongguk gives him a last look before stepping outside his home to scour. Sometimes Jimin wonders what Jeongguk does for a living and how he manages to find food everyday. The other times he sits by an open window on days that don’t snow much and stares into the canopy of white outside the cabin, if he's lucky enough, he spots birds circling above the mountains. 

People back in their village often said that familiarity makes people grow on each other. Jimin thinks that he couldn't survive in this vast white forest without Jeongguk's constant presence watching his back, ensuring that Jimin survives one more day.

[ 🦋 ] 

“I can't sleep,” Jimin softly murmurs as he sits down next to Jeongguk by the dying fire, “it's too cold.” 

“You should try,” Jeongguk urges, pressing himself close to the other, “you're still recovering. Why don't I add a few more logs to the fire in your room?” 

“You don't have to,” Jimin shifts closer to the other man, “It’s late. Let me just sit here next to you.” He hums softly when Jeongguk wraps an arm around his shoulders. 

“It's not a bother.” The taller man quietly voices into the silence, the fire crackles. “The fire in this room will not burn for long.” 

“It's okay.” The other murmurs. “Why are you awake?” 

“I couldn't sleep either.” 

“Oh. Me neither.”  Jimin’s drowsiness results in him repeating and slurring over words. 

“I know.” Jeongguk tells him, voice as quiet as the night, “why don't I make a bed for you here?” 

“Will you sleep here?” Jimin sleepily asks, “you're warm. If you do, I will.” 

“I'm not very warm,” Jimin feels the other man shake his head. He shushes him with a testy ‘ you are.’ The decision is seemingly made. Jeongguk moves from Jimin's side and lets him rest his head on his own knees. 

Jeongguk puts a log in the fire and drags the furs from Jimin’s room to make him a bed. When he's done, he shakes Jimin and pulls him into the bed to warm furs and blankets. Slowly he lies down next to the silver head and draws the blanket up to their chins. Jimin snuggles closer to Jeongguk and shuts his eyes. 

“You should sleep.” Jimin murmurs. The fire crackles as it licks up the wood. 

“Look who's talking,” Jeongguk laughs, “come on, try to sleep.” 

“What will we have in the morning?” Jimin asks drowsily instead, “I want to eat venison.” 

“I don't think we’ll get any venison now,” Jeongguk pats Jimin gently on the back, “I will try however.” 

“What will we have in the morning?” Jimin asks again, “I want to know.” He pouts. Something in Jeongguk stutters at the action.  

“How about rice?” Jeongguk suggests “and soup? With apples for dessert?” 

“Apples? How will you get them?” 

“I have my ways.” 

“I love apples.” Jimin murmurs. Jeongguk continues patting his back. His breath slowly evens out as sleep finally claims him. Jimin dreams of Jeongguk in an apple orchard. 

[🦋] 

“There's a place I want you to visit.” Jeongguk tells Jimin three months after their cohabitation, “If you let me, we can set out tomorrow.” 

“Where?” Jimin asks with curious eyes and full rosy cheeks. Even though he can't feel it in the snowy mountains, he knows that winter is receding and spring will arrive in another month or so. 

“When the plains get a little warmer, I shift towards a valley.” Jeongguk speaks, fingers intertwined with Jimin’s while they sit basking in the heat of the fireplace. “I have a cabin larger than this over there. If you want, we can leave together, if you don't, I can always take you back to your village.” 

It doesn't take long for Jimin to turn over the words in his head, Jeongguk is giving me an option to stick together, his brain comprehends. He looks at their joined fingers resting in his lap and the answer comes easy to him. “I’ll go with you. Of course I’d go with you Jeonggukie.” He answers softly. Jeongguk's hold tightens. I’d follow you anywhere in the world , Jimin thinks, but leaves it unheard. 

The journey to Jeongguk's home for the lesser winters is not as arduous as Jimin imagines. Much to his surprise, it is comfortable. They pack their supplies in wooden boxes and blued haired  Namjoon arrives to take them to the valley before the day of the trip. Jimin and Jeongguk travel on horses, as dark as the night, and most frequently share words amongst each other. 

The Jeongguk that Jimin knows is absent in the mornings, and a comforting presence by his side at night. The Jeongguk that Jimin knows listens, comforts and murmurs words that Jimin wants to hear. The Jeongguk of the day time, the other man learns, is an avid talker. 

"Why do you shift during lesser winters?" Jimin quietly asks, his horse skillfully trods over snow, "isn't it easier if you just live in one particular place?" Jeongguk seems to be thrown off by the question and thinks for a while with furrowed brows. 

"It is," he answers after a while, "but food supply is low in the mountains. In the valleys, it is easier to stock food for winters." 

Jimin thinks that Jeongguk is hiding  something, however, he isn't sure about what gives him away. Perhaps it is the way he is eager to change topics, perhaps the way his fingers twitch and his lips twitch, or perhaps, it is the way he rambles. 

"In the valley," Jeongguk says, "near my cabin, is a spring." His words drone on, the end syllables carried by the wind. A bird sings somewhere on the low branches and Jimin sways as his mare trods upon the white soil. Jeongguk is talking about birds that come in the valley by summer and chrysanthemum shrubs growing by the waters while the clouds glaze upon the mountains. 

There's an unadulterated longing that rises in Jimin's soul, a yearning to see Jeongguk in the spring by his cabin with his body submerged halfway in the water and the beams of the sun falling on his eyelashes. 

"It must be very pretty." Jimin answers, the insides of his ribs feel like spring. At the back of his mind there is a niggling worry that it shall be easier for the sentinels to find him in the valley. Jeongguk's home for the lesser winters might not make him feel as protected. 

"It is." The ravenhead answers with a smile that makes his nose scrunch up and bunny teeth peek out. There is a silver hue that dances over his body, it acts as a magical contrast against the white of the snow and makes him look like he was carved out of stardust. 

Looking at Jeongguk smiling like that with thick emotion glazing his eyes, the decision comes easy to him — his days with the other man may be numbered – any one of these days, Jimin fears, they shall perhaps track him down –  but he shall fight tooth and nail to remain by his side. 

Jimin's face lifts into a sweet sweet smile. 

[ 🦋 ] 

They stop by a shrine while climbing downwards. The entrance is decorated with wreaths of white flowers and scattered offerings of passion fruit that the devotees must have left behind. The shrine is vastly different from the pantheon that Jimin had frequented during his priesthood. 

"This is a shrine, Jeongguk!" Jimin's voice hitches, he looks towards Jeongguk to his farthest right. 

"It doesn't matter." Jeongguk answers with a soft sigh, tying the horses to the deserted stable on the right of the outerwall of the shrine. "We shall only spend a night. By tomorrow, we will be in the valley." His back looks tense, perhaps because of the weather conditions, and Jimin feels a sense of pity for the horses who must be taking the brunt of the cold much more than either of them. 

"Of course it matters." Jimin's voice softens a bit, "the devotees don't like it when people randomly use their chambers to stop during travels." 

"I don't think they do," Jeongguk trudges back towards Jimin with his boots leaving footprints on the snow. "Why make chambers for guests when you can't use them?" 

"They're just formalities," Jimin inches closer to Jeongguk when he stops by his side, actively seeking the hue of stardust coating the latter, "no devotee likes that, trust me, I would know." 

"It is a deserted shrine, Jimin," Jeongguk argues, lips morphing into the early signs of a pout, "the devotees only come here during the other seasons to pray for less harsh winters. During the winters, this shrine is mostly empty, save for a few offerings from visiting pilgrims put outside the main hall." The taller man puckers his lips into a whine. 

There's a slight reluctance in Jimin's eyes, but the soft puckering of Jeongguk's lips apparently puts an end to any prior thought that Jimin may have had. The sight of Jeongguk whining is so unnatural that it makes a steady flush of red rise up the other man's cheeks. Jimin stomps inside the shrine. 

Jimin and Jeongguk don't speak to each other for a long while. Jimin’s chest feels a little heavy with disappointment. Jeongguk has led them to an empty room inside the large expansive shrine and Jimin sits in a corner, hands moving through the luggage, searching for a warm enough blanket to lay on the ground. 

“Jimin,” Jeongguk says while he watches Jimin rummage through their belongings, “I’m sorry.” 

“For?” Jimin looks up at him with a frown settled on his brows. 

“For what I said before, I was being insensitive.” 

“It’s okay.” Jimin says, face melting into a kind smile. Jeongguk feels the fluttering of a hummingbird inside his chest. 

"Jimin," Jeongguk sounds exasperated as he stretches his body on the furs they have lain down on the stone floor of one of the many empty rooms inside the structure, "I am sure the winter deity does not need the tangerines that we carried along with us to snack on." 

"You're so ungrateful," Jimin shakes his head in false disappointment and adds with a teasing lilt of his voice, "if I invited you to my home, would you come empty handed?" 

"Maybe—" Jeongguk starts, a prompt and playful glare from Jimin shuts him up, he turns to his side wiggling closer to the fire he had lit in the small fireplace in the corner of the room. Jimin's tinkling laughter echoes in Jeongguk's ears and he feels like his insides are made of syrup. Saccharine and sweet. Jeongguk laughs quietly to himself. 

Much later, after Jimin has gone to give an offering to the plaque of the winter deity, Jeongguk wonders why Jimin hasn't expressed his curiosity about how Jeongguk had managed to light a fire, considering there wasn’t any firewood around. 

The floor on which Jimin lays on is cold to the touch, he turns to look at Jeongguk who lies beside him with his eyes closed. The both of them lie close to each other on the slight warmth of a fur with thick pelts slung over their shivering bodies. 

"Are you awake?" Jimin asks, wiggling closer to Jeongguk and tugging on his arm with his fingers, a slight warmth sizzles between them. If he moves closer, Jimin thinks, he would be able to feel Jeongguk's body flush against chest. "Jeongguk?" 

"What?" Jeongguk mumbles with his eyes still closed. Jimin's fingers clutch the material of Jeongguk's clothing tighter. 

"It is so quiet," Jimin lets out, the wind whistles outside, "it's eerie. I have never seen a shrine so deserted." 

"It'll be okay," Jeongguk's quiet voice echoes loudly in the space between them, "you get used to it after a while." 

"Do you think the horses are scared?" 

"Are you scared, Jimin?" He asks, placing a hand lightly on the smaller man's waist. The little organ beneath Jimin's ribs thuds so loudly, that he is afraid the other might hear. Upon receiving no answer, Jeongguk pulls the other closer, bodies flushed together, with Jimin's head resting on the butterfly on his throat. He quietly adds, "don't be. I'm here with you." Jimin thinks that the butterfly on Jeongguk's throat has taken momentary shelter in his stomach and he can feel the fluttering of its wings. 

“In the valley,” Jeongguk starts, soft soothing and nostalgic, “I have a friend…” the fire crackles in the fireplace and Jimin feels his body get warmer by the second. He feels the absence of a beating heart beneath his ears in Jeongguk's chest, “his name is Hobi.” Jeongguk continues. “We used to play together, laugh under the vast blue skies…” he tells Jimin stories like one would to a kid with slow pats to his back, lulling him into a quiet sleep as the night grows colder. 

In moments like this, Jimin feels like him and Jeongguk are the only ones who exist in the world. Jimin's Jeongguk, the Jeongguk who looks the brightest star in Jimin’s galaxy,  slowly moves his hand up and down Jimin’s spine, ghosting over his nape and occasionally caressing his head. His lips murmur words of sunny memories of him and his friend peeling fruits and bathing in the spring. Jimin realizes that Jeongguk is slowly lulling him to sleep. The words don't cease, even when his eyes get drowsy, they drum against his ears like rain pattering against the roof of the pantheon. Jeongguk makes a certain kind of yearning rise in him, something Jimin cannot pinpoint but something that makes his heart sing. 

[ 🦋 ] 

Jeongguk's cabin for the lesser winters is a beauty undefined, Jimin concludes. It is towered by green mountains, the snowy peaks visible at a distance, a gentle stream flows behind it, and hydrangeas bloom in all corners. The cabin stands in a clearing amidst the thick forest and Jimin feels the omnipresence of a late winter mixing with the throes of spring but yet spring never arrives in this valley, even though it appears like it does. Jimin doesn't know if it makes much sense, but he trusts 

“Jimin!” The high devotee hears Jeongguk call out to him from inside the house, “come inside, I have lit a fire.” He takes one last look at the beauty that splays itself around him and steps inside the cabin. 

In Jeongguk's sparse cabin interiors, Jimin stands tall like he belongs here, right inside Jeongguk's home. A fire crackles in the fireplace and warm furs are laid around it. The kitchen area in this cabin is separate and larger, Jimin can already smell the aroma of stew wafting from it, baskets of persimmons and tangerines fill up the central area. Jimin longs for persimmon paste with garlic to eat with something steamy or chewy. 

On the racks hammered into the walls are ancient manuscripts, and on the walls by the fireplace in front of which Jimin is, are tiny images carved into the wood. Jimin thinks that he'll never get bored here. 

“Jimin?” Jeongguk calls out from the kitchen area, “you're inside, right?”

“Yes!” Jimin answers back and moves to sit by the fire on the furs. 

 Jeongguk's voice echoes across the cabin, “there's a lot to do, I’m sure you shall like it.” 

“It's a beautiful place.” Jimin comments quietly, but he knows the other man has heard him. “It makes me long for something I never knew before.” 

“The valley has everything.” Jeongguk tries to keep the conversation going. “Everything you shall ever need is here.” 

“Like?” 

“Like …” even though Jimin cannot see Jeongguk, he feels the jest in his voice and imagines the other's lips curling into a soft smile, “me?” Jimin laughs, plain and beautiful, Jeongguk laughs along with him. 

Jimin and Jeongguk's rooms are next to each other, if he presses his ear to the wall separating them, he can hear the thrum of the stardust that dances over the other man’s skin. If he looks outside the window of his room, he can see the stream flowing gently and calmly. Everything he needs is not to be found in the valley, but he has Jeongguk here and that is all that matters to him. 

[ 🦋 ] 

On a cold night, after sharing memories with Jeongguk, Jimin wakes up to something that doesn’t feel very real. At first, he doesn't realize that anything is wrong, he is lying on the mattress, Jeongguk is probably in the room next to him, they both were supposed to make persimmon and garlic paste tomorrow and Jimin would request Namjoon to look for azaleas so he could hold a ritual in a few days. Life in the valley is good, it is serene. A cold breeze blows into the room making him shiver. 

A small smile plays on Jimin’s lips when he thinks of the routine that the both of them have fallen into. When he turns to his right to snuggle into the blankets, his gaze falls upon the window of the cabin that has opened somehow. It must be what has woken him up, the man thinks and with a groan gets up to shut it close. The moment he reaches the window sill, however, his hands freeze; there in the water of the silver spring, Jeongguk stands with his body submerged halfway. 

The water reaches up to Jeongguk’s naked waist, silver moonlight falls on his bare chest. There are silver necklaces slung around the butterfly on his throat and his right arm is tattooed with various images Jimin’s weak eyes cannot see. The moonlight glitters on his silver body and plays with his raven hair that falls on his shoulders and curls around his nape. Jimin feels his knees tremble and his legs grow weak. 

When Jeongguk opens his eyelids, his amber eyes fall on Jimin’s appalled ones, startling the silver head beyond wits. Jimin quickly shuts the window. 

Surrounded by hydrangeas, bathed in moonlight, like a prophecy that Jimin had wanted to see days ago, Jeongguk stands with his eyes closed. Jimin thinks Jeongguk looks like a God, but he wouldn't know, he has never seen a deity up close. 

[ 🦋 ] 

It feels like something shifts within him, after seeing Jeongguk submerged halfway into the spring, Jimin thinks that perhaps Jeongguk’s secret may be linked with either divinity or with witchcraft. 

In the mornings, Jeongguk steps out of the cabin for what he calls ‘trade negotiations,’ Jimin reads by the fireplace or traces the patterns on the walls and tries to decode what they mean. Today, Jimin plans to conduct a ritual by the spring. 

He traipses to the banks of the water body with a basket in his hands, containing offerings of chestnuts that Jeongguk had bought from a wandering merchant. He places the basket on the grass and starts plucking hydrangeas from the shrubs to make a ritualistic circle. Azaleas are the better choice, Jimin knows, but the absence of it can't be helped and the hydrangeas would have to make do. 

When Jimin takes a momentary break from his task of plucking hydrangeas, he looks up and spots the bright red flowers on the opposite bank of the waterbody. Azalea , the wind carries the name to his ears, azaleas, azaleas. The summer deity loves azaleas. A shiver runs up Jimin’s spine while at the same time a fog of tranquility sets over him. 

Jimin, the wind chants, your deity will come back to you if you give him azaleas. 

It feels like Jimin’s body moves on its own, one minute he's sitting on the grass while sifting through flowers, and the next moment he is submerged halfway in the water as he wades over to the opposite banks. It feels light, not even the tunics soaking up water pulls him down. When he hauls himself on the opposite bank, his clothes have dried, the azaleas are gone, the sky is overcast and the haze clouding his mind lifts. 

It feels like he is gripped with a startling realization, the world clears itself in his lens, and he feels a numb kind of shock grip his insides. The world that surrounds him now is different from the world in which he thrived in a few minutes ago. Gone is Jeongguk’s beautiful cabin, the beautiful valley and the beautiful blue sky. In front of him stands a frozen river, around him is a dense forest and when he whips his head to the side, in the far distance he can see the snow capped mountains. 

Jeongguk. 

Jeongguk is gone. 

Jimin will never see him again. 

A harrowed scream rips itself out of his throat. 

[ 🦋 ] 

Jimin walks, his tears have dried up, his throat is raw from calling out to Jeongguk. So, he walks towards the snow capped mountains where the shrine of the winter deity is. He shall pray to the deity to unite him with the other man. A chilly wind blows making him pull his robes closer. At first, Jimin does not realize it when it happens — the sounds of the forests are quiet and the neighs of a horse travels in distant sound waves. He thinks there could be a settlement nearby. 

It is only when he steps into a clearing that he sees the banner of the king fly high. Before he can react however, he feels the noose wrap itself around his neck, cutting into his flesh. Shock cripples him as he falls on the dirt floor of the forest. 

“General Hwang!” He hears a voice shout, “the traitor has finally been caught!” A horse neighs. Hands pull on the rope around Jimin’s neck and the devotee falls face first on the dirt, his palms facing most of the brunt. The hands keep on cruelly pulling the rope. Jimin feels the hot tears blur his vision, he wants Jeongguk. He wants Jeongguk to pet his hair and put him to sleep and dispel his nightmares. He is dragged through the soil while sobs gurgle from his lips, Jimin thinks his death has finally caught up with him and he wants to see Taehyung. He wants to know if Taehyung is happy.

The hands of fate are cruel and merciless. Park Jimin, the devotee of the pantheon, the worshiper of the summer deity, chosen by the Voice of the deity himself, is now being dragged through the forest floor like a sacrificial lamb. Certainly, the fates couldn't be crueler. 

[ 🦋 ] 

“Jimin?” A soft nasal voice calls out to him. There's an awful stinging around his neck and he feels like he wants to retch the contents of his empty stomach out. “Jimin-ah” the voice calls out again, he feels fingers card through his silver hair, “my baby.” 

“Father?” He weakly calls out, but his Father is dead, his furrows his brows. Two gentle fingers smooth out his frown. 

“My Lord,” a raspy voice calls out, “Hoseok, what should I do?” 

“Burn them.” The gentle voice says scathingly. Jimin shifts his head that lies on the softest silks at the disturbance. 

“Jimin-ah,” the voice coos, “you should wake up my child. Don't you want to go back to Jeongguk?” It’s the mention of Jeongguk that makes Jimin shoot up from his slumber, a muscle cricks with his fumbled movements and laughter resounds. He turns his head and sees a man in pale yellow robes laughing with his head thrown back. A crown of green leaves sits on his head, and his long red hair splays on his back. 

“Who are you?” He wraps his arms around his body to stop it from trembling. 

“Don't you recognise me, my darling?” The look in the man's eyes is warm and affectionate. It baffles Jimin. 

“Jimin-ah,” another voice calls out, “do you remember me?” Jimin sees the man with pale skin and feline eyes stand behind the mellow man. Realization dawns on him slowly. This is the same man who had come to him in his childhood years. 

“You —” his voice trembles, he touches his forehead to the ground, “I’m sorry I didn't recognise you.” 

“Yoongi!” The mellow man reprimands. “You’ve scared my child.” Jimin doesn't understand, but he dares not rise. 

“Come my child,” Hoseok’s kind hands pull him up, “let me show you something.” He slowly encourages the silver head to turn. 

“Why do you call me your child?” Jimin questions, oblivious and bewildered. The bruises around his neck keep stinging and his body aches. His throat feels raw. However, he wants as many answers as he can get. 

“Oh Jimin,” the mellow man says, “weren't you picking azaleas for me, my darling?” 

Jimin sits on the soil stupefied beyond words. Life on the other side of Jeongguk's spring seems like a dimension in which he doesn't belong. It is like a fog that has lured Jimin in and has trapped him in an inescapable labyrinth. Jimin almost doesn't believe it — the deity who had abandoned him had come for him. Jimin had never seen a deity up close but this man’s kind eyes must be because he's a deity. Jimin doesn't know whether he should believe him, but why would the Voice of the deity be with him if he wasn't their lord, Jimin's Lord. 

The tears fall from his eyes as he clasps his hands in front of him and bows his head. “My Lord, Father,” Jimin weeps, “you have not deserted me.” 

“Oh my child,” the deity wraps his arms around the weeping man, “I have always heard your prayers. I will always hear your prayers.” 

“Look,” the deity coaxes, encouraging Jimin to turn. When Jimin looks to the direction the deity is nudging him towards, he sees that they are sitting on the side of a spring, Jeongguk's spring, a traitorous voice supplies, and on the other side the banner of the King is burning in orange summer flames. 

But Jimin doesn't want to see the banners, he doesn't want to see the flames. He twists in Hoseok's hold and his eyes scan the clearing behind him. Yoongi discreetly shifts out of the way.

His frantic eyes raze over the shrubs, the cabin, the green mountains and there! he spots him finally! With moonlight filtering on his face and the smell of late winter filling up the air, Jeongguk stands with his gentle gaze. 

Jimin’s world spins back into its axis, he sobs in relief. 

[ 🦋 ] 

“How did you find me?” Jimin quietly questions, “why didn't you answer my prayers?” Hoseok sits beside Jimin by the stream and softly sighs. The scene on the other bank has righted itself and is once again filled with green grass and pretty flowers. 

“You were calling for me, darling.” The deity answers. “I didn't realize it at first. But Jeongguk came to the plains in search of you, asking me for help.” 

“Jeongguk?” Jimin furrows his brows, he hadn't received any spark of relief or recognition from Jeongguk — the man had wrapped a fur around his shoulders and told him he’d be waiting inside the cabin. 

"Jeongguk was frantic," Hoseok lifts his arm to rub circles on Jimin's neck, the sting tingles and the ache slowly subsides. "It looked like the spring had lured you in its magic and he couldn't trace you because you moved too far from the mountains." 

"How did he know?" Jimin timidly asks. 

“I think you should ask him.’’ 

 "Why were you ignoring me?" 

"Oh Jimin, my sweet child," Hoseok clasps his fingers into his, "once you pledge yourself to another deity, you cannot connect with your previous deity." 

"Another deity? I... I don't understand. I have always been your devotee." 

"You've stopped being my worshiper the moment you started living with Jeongguk." Hoseok explains. "Your altar has changed." It confuses him a bit, but mostly, Jimin is relieved that his deity had not abandoned him like Taehyung's had. 

"Who sits in my altar now?" He looks at the silver moon reflected in the water. It reminds him of the night he saw Jeongguk submerged in the waters. Jimin knows the answer in his bones, but he craves verbal confirmation. 

"Who else could it be?" he can hear the smile in Hoseok's voice, "other than Jeongguk, the deity of the winters." 

[ 🦋 ] 

Jimin knocks on the door of Jeongguk's magical cabin, Hoseok and Yoongi have departed already with gentle smiles and soft promises, and Jimin had been left to cope with the events he had been put through and allow himself to think. 

It doesn't take long for the door to be wrenched open and reveal Jeongguk. 

Jeongguk . 

Jimin's Jeongguk. 

Jeongguk's eyes look glazed with concern and burn a bright amber, his shoulders are tense and his hands tremble. There's a haggard look to his face and Jimin hates it. Abruptly, he falls on his knees, startling Jimin. Jeongguk wraps his arms loosely around Jimin's legs and cries. 

"Don't cry..." Jimin's voice breaks, "don't cry." 

"I'm sorry." Jeongguk murmurs in between sobs. "It must've been so difficult. You were so scared. I'm so sorry." 

It's not your fault. Jimin wants to say. It's no one's fault but mine.  He doesn't voice any of it. Jeongguk removes his arms to rub at his eyes, and Jimin kneels before him. Jeongguk slightly towers over him, his eyes are still a burning amber. Jimin softly cradles his face in his hands. 

"I thought I'd never see you again." Jimin confesses. "I still don't know if any of it was real. It didn't feel real. It... it's probably because you're a deity isn't it?" 

"It's my fault." Jeongguk's face crumples. "If I told you before —" 

"My Lord," Jimin's trembling voice cuts in, "if it's anyone's fault. It's mine." 

"Don't call me that!" Jeongguk reprimands. "Call me, Jeongguk. I want to be your Jeongguk." 

"Jeongguk." Jimin feels tears pool in his eyes. " My Jeongguk." He softly presses his chapped lips to Jeongguk's softer ones. To him, Jeongguk feels like an equal, less like divinity and more like the same kind of man that he is. Jeongguk's lips move against his and on his mouth Jimin can taste the sweetness of tangerines. Jeongguk's lips against his feels like the early beginnings of spring. His tongue scrapes against Jimin's teeth before the latter parts his mouth and fists at the deity's robes. With a soft peck on his lips Jeongguk pulls away. Before he can move, the taller man's arms pull him in, drawing him close to his chest. The tears slowly start spilling from Jimin's eyes. 

"Sweetheart," Jeongguk utters, like a soft silent prayer, "I love you." Sobs wrack Jimin's body. In a deity's arms, in his lover's arms, in Jeongguk's arms, Jimin allows himself to break. Relief and realization settles itself inside his ribs — Jeongguk loves him. He loves Jeongguk. No realization has been sweeter. 

[ 🦋 ] 

“Eat,” Jeongguk presses, “you’ll feel hungry late at night.” The spoon lies idly by Jimin’s plate of spicy meat. The venison does very little to arouse hunger in him. 

“I don't feel like eating.” Jimin murmurs. Deer meat is a luxury. Jeongguk must've worked hard for the deer meat, but Jimin simply has no appetite. But, did Jeongguk even have to work hard for the venison? “Will you answer a question?” Jimin tentatively asks. Jeongguk’s bowl of food also sits idle; in retrospect, he never needed the food they had all these weeks. 

“Ofcourse,” Jeongguk reaches out and tenderly holds Jimin’s hand, “ask away.” Jimin sees the silver dust sparkle on the other's hand but never touches Jimin’s skin. 

“What …” he starts, unsure and reluctant, “how did you get the venison?” 

“Oh!” Jeongguk sighs, his face melting into something soft, “these are offerings.” 

“You go to collect offerings?” Jimin looks up. “I feel stupid now.” He snorts. “I believed you went out trading, scavenging, hunting but never once did it cross my mind that you collected offerings. ” 

“Well,” Jeongguk’s expression turns sheepish, “logically, the fact that I might be collecting offerings is possibly not the first thought that comes to mind.” 

“Are these…” he gestures to the spread of deer meat and rice “also offerings?” 

“Not really.” Jeongguk shakes his head. “I asked Namjoon to fetch these for me. Namjoon is my Voice. As you might know, I do not actively require food to survive. Namjoon went to a village to procure these for you. Expensive offerings like deer meat dwindle during summer seasons.” 

“Oh!” Jimin’s mouth puckers in soft disappointment, making the other man laugh, and he resorts back to eating quietly. 

“How are you feeling?” the deity softly asks “be honest. Tell me if there's anything you need.” For a quick moment the words ‘I’m fine’ is on the tip of his tongue; the words ‘be honest’ reverberate themselves in his headspace sparking the dilemma about ‘ how does he truly feel?’ 

“I…” Jimin tries to articulate chewing on the savory meat “I think I'm mostly fine, physically. However, inside … it feels surreal. I’m… I’m terribly surprised and it's not the good kind.” 

“Definitely not the good kind.” Jeongguk interjects as an encouragement. 

“I have… questions. Too many questions and perhaps when it will be morning I shall be terrified, but, tonight I want some sort of ease and want to finish this meal with you in peace.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” The words fall from the deity’s lips and his cold hands wrap around Jimin’s wrist comfortingly. 

“And perhaps…” Jimin looks down at the table “if it's okay with you… I …” a blush climbs up his cheeks “we could sleep by the fireplace tonight? Together? Like we did back at the cabin?” 

“Of course.” Jeongguk's face breaks into a sweet sweet smile. “We can do anything you want.” 

Long after the table has been cleared, Jeongguk sets up palets, blankets and pillows to create a makeshift bed on the floor by the fireplace and urges Jimin to sit on it. 

“Come on,” he says, patting the space in front of him, “let me put some healing salve on your neck.” 

“My neck is fine,” Jimin protests, albeit still crawling into bed and sitting in front of the taller man, “My Lord healed it for me.” 

“I know he did.” Jeongguk murmurs while smearing the strong smelling mixtures on to his fingers, “but this Lord of yours wants to do it anyways.” He presses his fingers softly on the back of Jimin’s neck and slowly massages it making the silverhead’s body tingle with a delicious sensation. When he looks up he can see Jeongguk hovering over him with a concentrated expression on his face and he feels warmth flush in his body and heat up his cheeks. 

“Can I ask a question?” He asks meekly, knowing that he may very well just ask it anyways because Jeongguk will never say ‘no’ to him. Jeongguk, as one may predict, hums in affirmation. 

“Why … did the stream do that today?” Jimin asks, cracking his head to the side so that Jeongguk can gently massage it “it was scary. I could feel it calling for me. Was all of it real? I would certainly wish for it to be a dream.” 

“Jimin…” Jeongguk retracts his hands and leans back to stare into his eyes, “this place is enchanted. I probably should've told you before, I… I cannot believe I overlooked it. It is my fault.” His eyes turn guiltier with each word he says. “The stream recognises magical and non magical beings. Non magical beings do not belong to this place, this valley is stuck in a transitory place somewhere between winter and spring which is why I spend all my seasons here. The stream actively works to cast out any non magical beings preying on their fears.” 

Jimin’s eyes turn glassy. What if the stream casts him out again? Where does he go without Jeongguk? 

“It sent you right to the enemy camp because that is what you must have been immensely afraid of.” Jeongguk cradles his face in his salve coated hands. “When I figured you were missing and I couldn't find you because my season out in the wilderness was gone, I immediately pleaded to Hoseok to look for you and I’m … I'm so very sorry for disappointing you like this. I’m sorry.” He leans his forehead on Jimin’s warm one. “I’ll spend the rest of eternity apologizing.” 

“What did Hoseok mean by me being your devotee?” Jimin asks, tears falling down onto his cherub cheeks. “Why do you even live in the cold mountains anyways?” 

“Jimin…” Jeongguk's thumbs draw circles on his cheeks and his voice softly murmurs in reassuring notes “the minute I pulled you out of that river, you promised yourself to me. I could hear you crying out for help. I could hear you promise that you’d devote your life to anyone that rescues you. I live in the mountains in winter because that is my domain in the winters. When the season passes, I have to move out here so that other seasons can arrive.” 

“That day,” Jeongguk continues, “I could hear you calling out to me and I had to help you somehow and I’m so, so, very glad that I did. I love you so much, sweetheart and I’ll devote myself to you, if you’ll have me.” The confession falls sweet and easy from Jeongguk's lips making Jimin sniffle even more. 

“But I’m scared.” He cries. “What if… what if it happens again?” 

“I won't.” Jeongguk vehemently shakes his head. “I will make sure that it doesn't. Nothing will happen to you. Never.” He leans down and kisses Jimin softly on the lips. The saltiness of Jimin’s tears mixes with the sweetness of Jeongguk's kisses as their mouths move against each other.

“I want to stay with you.” Jimin murmurs when Jeongguk pulls back. “I always want to stay with you. If you’d have me.” 

“Lemme wash off the excess salve off your cheeks,” Jeongguk simply says with a dazzling smile, “and then, let's go to sleep.” 

Even later they lie by the fireplace with Jimin curled into Jeongguk's body and Jeongguk softly pats his back to lull him into sleep. 

“Jeongguk?” Jimin speaks with a sleep laden voice. Jeongguk hums. “Do you even need sleep?” 

“Not really,” Jeongguk laughs, “but it feels nice to sleep a little.” 

“If I ask you for something will you… can you give it to me?” 

“Anything.” There is no lack of conviction in his voice and it makes Jimin’s heart pick up speed. 

“I …” he yawns, “I want to see Taehyung. Once. Today… when I was dragged through the forest,” Jeongguk tenses up at the mention of the incident, “I really wanted to see Taehyung.” Jeongguk lies still for a while so Jimin quickly amends, “only if it's possible.” 

“Of course, it's possible!” Jeongguk rubs soothing circles on Jimin’s back making him close his eyes in contentment “I’ll ask Namjoon tomorrow morning to start looking for him. Sleep now, sweetheart, you need it. We have all the time to talk tomorrow.” 

But Jimin can't go to sleep yet, he still has things to say but he settles for a meek, “Jeongguk?” 

Jeongguk hums. 

“I love you.” 

By the time Jeongguk’s saccharine words of love echo around the room, Jimin is fast asleep and Jeongguk thinks that he’d do anything to hear Jimin speak for the rest of eternity. 

epilogue  

 Jimin never knew that winter could be celebratory. Which part of the world could be crazy enough to sing hymns of a season that is the harbinger of grief? All grand celebrations in Jimin’s hometown are reserved for the deities of summer and spring. Sometimes, Jimin aches for the absence of love in the common folks’ hearts for his lover, however, there is little he could do for it. Hence, it comes as a surprise when he hears the floating times of a celebratory music in the slowly growing cold months of early winter. 

From the sheer curtain of the palanquin, Jimin sees men dancing and women laughing in what looks like the center of the village. 

“Can you smell it?” Jeongguk asks from where he sits beside him, his long arm is around Jimin’s shoulders, while the silverhead lays on his chest. 

“Smell what?” Jimin tilts his head to look up at Jeongguk’s pretty eyes. Jeongguk drops a kiss on his forehead, making him immediately shut his eyes in an attempt to savor it. 

“The salt in the air.” Jeongguk murmurs softly. The palanquin sways as the spirits of the mountain carry them through the vast space. 

“Salt?” 

“We’re close to the sea.” Jeongguk tells him, noting the excitement that slowly colours Jimin's eyes. Jimin wants to say a lot of things at once, his mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he gives up and kisses Jeongguk softly on the lips. The music slowly grows louder. 

“What are they celebrating outside?” Jimin softly asks, pulling his face away from his lover's.  

“Winter.” Jeongguk sighs, he doesn't like festivities much. “In a seaside town, the weather is equal. Summers, however, are much more harsh and humid. Winter is an enjoyable season for them. 

“A celebration for you?” Jimin beams “can we stop?” 

“You want to?” Jeongguk looks unsure. Jimin only smiles at him sweetly. So, they stop. 

[ 🦋 ] 

“What are they doing?” Jimin asks a woman who stands by the fire, together they watch a man dance as the fire crackles. At a distance, if he listens carefully, he can hear the sea roaring. Jeongguk has left him to pay for the rice wine they had drank together and Jimin has opted to watch the opulence of the festivities instead. 

“It is a dance to invoke the winter deity,” the woman says, “since the scriptures don't provide many guidelines on the worship of the winter deity, we make up rituals of our own.” 

“That's…” Jimin’s lips part in awe as he watches the dancer sway to the rhythm of the beating drums, “beautiful.” Jimin knows that winter will not arrive until a few more weeks at least, because Jeongguk and he will move to the snowy mountains when it does. 

“Do you think the winter god answers your prayers?” He asks. “Many people don't like him very much.” 

“Does it really matter?” The woman shrugs. “Here, in winters, we prosper. The nobles and rich men come to the shores in late winters and early springs. In middle winters, rich men come to escape the cold of the mountains. In a place where all seasons are more or less the same, does it really matter?” 

“I’m sure the winter deity will bless the village abundantly.” Jimin softly says, in a loss of words. Two arms, suddenly, wrap around his waist pulling him close to a cold body and pulling him out of the crowd. Perhaps, if Jimin looked closely enough, he could see sparks dancing on the man’s arms. 

“What's got you so invested, huh?” Jeongguk murmurs in his ear; something wanton twists in his stomach. 

“They're doing a ritual.” Jimin tells him. “Maybe I should do one for you, too.” 

“You don't need to.” Jeongguk’s words are firm and muffled into Jimin’s neck. 

“Why?” The silverhead turns in his lover's hold. When Jeongguk’s eyes meet his, Jimin can see in them the combustion of stars. 

“I don't require prayers to strengthen my divinity,” Jeongguk utters softly but with conviction, “ you are my prayer.” 

The words send a rush of something sweet all throughout Jimin’s body. He feels his skin tingle and waves of pink dust settle on his cheeks. Jimin stands still in Jeongguk’s embrace for some time — unsure and overwhelmed with his words of devotion and love — then, he leans up on his toes and presses a sweet kiss on his lover's lips. 

[ 🦋 ] 

“Whatever happens,” Jeongguk starts, squeezing Jimin’s right palm tight in his, “I will be here with you. No matter what the consequences are.” 

“I know,” Jimin softly hums, staring at the vast sea in front of him with a quiet and unreserved wonder in his eyes. The constant waves wash his feet and each time that he feels the sand move away from beneath his feet, he clutches Jeongguk’s hand tighter. 

“I want to take you somewhere,” Jeongguk says “will you come with me?” 

“Of course I will!” Jimin is puzzled “what makes you think I will not?” Jeongguk doesn't answer. He quietly leads Jimin down the sandy path dotted by the loud hungry roars of the waves. Jimin feels a deep set fascination for the ocean, he thinks he could listen to it roar forever. A crown caws atop one of the fishermen’s boats and the stench of fresh caught fish fills up Jimin’s lungs, making him want to gag. 

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks once they pass the fishermen completely. 

“I am.” Jimin nods, it warms his heart to know that his lover is so attuned to what he feels. “How much more?” 

“A little bit.” Jeongguk assures, a cold wave washes their feet. The sea side is empty, the cackle of the fishermen is drowned out by the loud waves of the sea. At a distance Jimin sees a lone figure facing the sea. When they come almost close to where the lone man stands, Jeongguk stops. 

“There's someone,” Jeongguk starts, moving his arm to hold Jimin’s wrist over his still heart, “you wanted to meet.” When he sees the silverhead furrow his brows, he lets go of the other's wrist and smoothens his eyebrows. “Just trust me.” He assures, nodding towards where the man stands. Jimin feels his heart sink to his stomach — he thinks, he has inkling, about what this might be — his stomach feels queasy. With a last unsure look at Jeongguk, he turns to where the man stands. 

“Excuse me —” he calls out and stops midway, the man turns towards him. His raven hair falls pretty on his face and his eyes hold a certain sort of longing. He smiles, soft, sweet and rectangular. 

Taehyung! 

Jimin would recognise him anywhere. He could be pushed to the ends of this world and still crave to see him. He’d fight tooth and nail for him. Jimin, would always, always, recognise Kim Taehyung . 

At first, Jimin feels hollow, he's spent weeks not knowing whether his friend is alive. He's spent weeks trying to reach out to his designated deity in hopes that he and his friend will be reunited. Jimin halts in his steps, unsure and reluctant, confused with what his hands and feet should be doing. 

What does one even say to a friend they've not seen for what feels like years? Then, Jimin feels like the sea water is slowly filling up his chest and sloshing inside his ribs. Salty, sandy, foamy and cool. This reunion feels like the tide — Jimin worries that his friend would be pulled away like the receding tide. The fear and relief in his body spar against each other. 

Then, Jimin is sinking into the sand. Loud sobs claw out of his chest, through a film of tears he sees Taehyung cross the distance between them, he feels the exact moment Taehyung wraps his arms around Jimin. 

Taehyung’s palms are on his face and Jimin thinks Taehyung  is crying too. 

“Jiminie.” Taehyung murmurs in his breathless baritone. 

“Taehyung.” Jimin falls apart in his childhood friend's arms. His fingers trace his friend’s face with undisguised urgency. What if, oh what if, he is not real? Jimin’s world would shatter. “You're real, right?” 

“I am!” Taehyung cries, tears pool in his eyes and fall over his cheeks. “Oh heavens! everyday I’d pray to the deities to bring you back to me, Jiminie. I cannot believe they listened to me. I am real. I am real.” He sniffles. 

“You're finally with me. You're here, you're breathing. You didn't leave me alone in this world.” Jimin hiccups. 

“I’d never leave you.” Taehyung promises, pressing his forehead to the shorter man’s. When Jimin’s cries are mere sniffles, and when his head lies on his friend’s chest and his own heart beats with relief, Jimin looks at where his raven haired lover stands. 

The winter deity looks every bit of the god that he is, a deity powerful and capable enough to fulfill wishes. A deity who holds Jimin’s heart. The winter deity looks at the pair of friends fondly. Belatedly Jimin thinks that the winter deity kept his promise. 

Jeongguk kept his promise. He gave him what he wanted. Jeongguk would give Jimin anything. 

Jimin smiles. 

fin.