Chapter Text
There are three lessons to be learnt, Jeon Jeongguk thinks.
First, never underestimate the power of bad vibes. Of course, when the aforementioned bad vibes are coming from a certain Kim Namjoon it would probably be in everyone’s best interest to take his advice. He is, after all, the noble advisor of Crown Prince Jeon Jeongguk. Jeongguk’s pretty sure he didn’t get to his position by bullshitting his way up the ranks.
Then again, when said advisor uses words like bad vibes and negative juju, man, Jeongguk wonders just how much of his advice is legitimate and how much of it is bullshit. What had been going through his father’s thick skull when he had looked at Kim Namjoon and decided it was a good idea to appoint him as the advisor and life coach of the beloved Prince of Busan, Jeongguk isn’t too sure. But he should probably look into that.
The second lesson, Jeongguk surmises, is that life is fleeting and thus, precious. He’s not quite sure where the second point derives from, but after spending nearly all of his time with Namjoon he was bound to pick up on his philosophical bullshit sooner or later.
Bullshit? Absolutely. But unfortunately, also true. Life is, in fact, fleeting and precious and Jeongguk had clearly been unaware of this fact. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth and doted on by millions of people, Jeongguk has always been on top of the food chain, unaware that his life is an insignificant speck in the grand scheme of things.
And the final—and arguably most important—lesson is that death fucking sucks. Namjoon had once told him that during one’s final moments, they will be overcome with an overwhelming sense of tranquillity and utter peace. Almost like their body is doing them one last favour before they leave the world of the living and transcend into the beyond.
Now, Jeongguk’s unsure of what kind of utter bullshit Namjoon had been feeding him the past several years (and why he’d chosen to believe him), but he is slowly coming to the realisation that it’s probably for the best if he lets Namjoon go. If he survives, that is. Which, by the looks of things, the likelihood of his chances at survival is getting slimmer and slimmer by the moment, which sucks because Jeongguk has really wanted to be the one to send Namjoon packing.
He should’ve turned the ship back the minute the waves started getting choppier. Should have listened to Namjoon’s complaints that started as moans of bad vibes, your highness that slowly began to decline into retching and vomiting (seriously, who decided it was a good idea to appoint Namjoon, someone who got seasick easily, as Jeongguk’s—the prince of Busan, a fucking fishing port—advisor?) at some point of their voyage and turned back. Should’ve have steered the ship back towards the shores of Busan—to safety—when he watched his crew dart around on deck, trying to desperately hold the ship together against the rocking waves.
There’s a lot of things he should have done, but he supposes all that is too late now, especially when he’s been thrown spectacularly overboard and is currently trying his hardest not to drown. Which, all in all, doesn’t sound like too much of an impossible feat for a prince like Jeongguk, per se. But when he is battling waves the size of houses with no ship in sight, prospects aren’t looking too hot.
Another wave crashes on top of him, dragging him underwater for a heart stopping moment before he manages to resurface. Honestly speaking though, Jeongguk is a little glad no one is there to witness him screaming loudly at the top of his lungs every time his head pops up above the water before he’s dragged back down by the force of the waves. It’s honestly very unattractive. Maybe it’s because of his third consecutive year winning Sexiest Prince in South Korea that even when he’s fighting for his life he finds himself unwilling to look anything but sexy and alluring whilst doing so.
But there seems to be more pressing matters than looking appealing when drowning—the issue being a very real, very huge building-sized wave slowly forming right before his very eyes. A very real, very huge building-sized wave that is going to collapse on Jeongguk and very possibly crush him into a human pancake.
Ever so eloquent, Jeongguk has time to whisper a princely, “oh fuck”, before the wave crashes down onto him. The wave crashes down onto him so hard, Jeongguk finds himself being legitimately surprised at the fact that he is still very much alive and conscious and not flattened like a tin can.
His body is jerked back and forth by the unrelenting, violent waves, and his chest feels like it’s about to explode from the lack of oxygen and too much seawater. There’s a real sense of panic that flutters in his chest because he’s suddenly coming to the realisation that he is absolutely going to die a horrible and painful death, so very much alone.
Something hits his head, hard. A log, perhaps, or something from Jeongguk’s ship that was thrown off ungraciously much like he was—he’s not really sure what it is, but he can’t find it in himself to care, not when he’s slowly sinking towards the bottom of the ocean, the remaining oxygen in his lungs whooshing out of him.
Barely conscious, Jeongguk, however, still vaguely makes out through his half-opened eyes something golden moving towards him, twisting and shimmering in the inky-black ocean and for a moment, for the half second Jeongguk manages to stay conscious it feels a little like hope glimmering in a distance. The sounds of the thunder and waves roaring have faded above waters, and there’s a pleasant muted pressure pressing down on his ears.
Perhaps, he thinks to himself, death isn’t so bad after all.
Okay, so maybe not death.
Jeongguk finds himself well and truly alive as he coughs up seawater, body shaking as the water gushes from his mouth, burning his lungs and throat and nose. There are strong, gentle hands supporting his head up as he coughs violently. When he manages to pry his eyes open, blinking against the stinging seawater that drips into his eyes, he can just make out a shadowed figure hunched over him, blocking the sunlight.
“Come on,” a gentle, melodic voice urges him. “Cough it up.”
Jeongguk groans, letting his head rest against the stranger’s hands. The stranger laughs and maybe Jeongguk might be a little lightheaded from ingesting copious amounts of seawater, from almost drowning a horrible death god damn it, but he swears it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. It’s stupidly deep and rich like honey in a way that makes Jeongguk think unprincely things, yet also has a soft and strangely musical quality to it, almost as if the owner of the voice is singing with every word they speak.
“You’re alright. You’re going to be okay.”
Jeongguk blinks several times and when his eyes adjust to the sunlight and the stinging seawater, he catches sight of his saviour and—oh.
Maybe it’s the sunlight that haloes around the boy’s head catching in his golden hair and making it look like spun gold. Or maybe it’s the way his long eyelashes seem to brush against his soft-looking skin every time he blinks. Jeongguk is convinced there’s something funky in the seawater, but there is something decidedly angelic about this boy.
“I—you saved my life.” Well, that much is obvious to anyone. Jeongguk’s just glad his father isn’t here to see him making stupid statements.
The boy smiles, rosy lips stretching into a pretty grin. “I just pulled you to safety. You survived just fine on your own. Well, right up until the point where you passed out, anyways.”
Jeongguk doesn’t pay attention to the strange implication behind the boy’s words, struggling to sit up after his skin and bones have been worn out by fighting against the strong waves.
“Just stay lying down for a while. You really took a beating out there,” he says, pushing him back down gently.
“How can I ever repay you?”
“I appreciate the gesture, but there’s no need,” the boy waves his hand dismissively. “A thank you is enough for me.”
“A thank you?” Jeongguk frowns. He begins to struggle against the boy’s iron grip, attempting once again to sit up. “You saved my life. Please, come back with me to the castle. My father will repay you handsomely. Anything you want.”
The boy’s eyes bug out, as if that is the last thing on earth he wants. “No, it’s really okay. You should stay lying down, please, just lie down. I’m not even supposed to be here.”
“Not supposed to be here? I don’t understand, I—”
With everything that happens, there is a lesson to be learnt. Never underestimate the power of bad vibes, life is precious, death sucks and—
Lesson number four:
Listen to others.
Jeongguk never realised the boy was topless, but his eyes catch sight of the tanned expanse of his neck, gaze travelling along the smooth, lean torso, down past the cute belly-button, and sees scales. Beautiful, multi-coloured, shiny scales.
“Oh. Oh.”
Perhaps Jeongguk isn’t as mentally strong as he likes to believe. Because he takes one look at the boy’s figure and decides once and for all that he ingested something strange and 100% illegal before his mind realises it can’t comprehend the actuality of the current scenario and he promptly passes out again.
The second time Jeongguk comes to, he jerks back to consciousness with a gasp, eyes darting around wildly, and—alone. So very alone.
Well, almost alone.
There’s a ruckus coming from his left and he manages to turn his head ever so slightly to see Namjoon tripping over rocks, using his hands and feet as he tries to find grip on the slippery edge. It’s a sight for sore eyes. Maybe Jeongguk will postpone Namjoon’s… departure.
“Jeong—I mean, Your majesty!” Namjoon gasps out as Jeongguk blinks at him. “We thought you fucking—pardon my manners—died!”
Namjoon somehow manages to cross the slippery terrain and kneels down next to him, his knees making a muted thud as they hit the sand, hands hovering over Jeongguk like he’s on the verge of physically searching his body for bruises and cuts.
“Mermaid,” Jeongguk croaks out to Namjoon. He stops his fussing to look at Jeongguk with a strange expression.
“Your majesty?”
“Where’s—where’s the mermaid?” Saying the words aloud makes it feel like it had been some ridiculous dream that had happened in Jeongguk’s half lucid state. But Jeongguk’s sure of it. It—he had been there right next to Jeongguk, looking every bit like Jeongguk’s dirtiest, most unprincely fantasies.
“Mermaid?” Namjoon eyebrows pinch together in worry. “Oh god, you must’ve hit your head on something. We must have you checked immediately. Can you walk? Would you like for me to carry you? Shall I fetch someone?”
“No, I can walk.” Jeongguk winces as Namjoon hauls him to his feet despite his refusal, wrapping an arm around his waist securely, and helping him limp back to the direction he had come from.
“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“But… the mermaid…”
“Are you sure you didn’t somehow ingest the weed I know you keep stashed in your breast pocket when you were drowning, Your Majesty? I think you—”
“Shut up, Namjoon.”
“Shutting up.”
When Taehyung was sixteen, he had swum up to The Surface in a fit of rebellion.
There had been a large ship and on board many people danced and sung, clearly celebrating something. They shot huge, colourful stars into the sky and Taehyung had watched in awe as they exploded with a loud bang into a myriad of colours and shapes.
There had been a boy on board, perhaps Taehyung’s age.
He was sitting on a throne of sorts, clapping along to those who danced with a jovial expression. He had been the most beautiful creature Taehyung had ever seen and he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from boy with stars in his eyes as a young man pulled him from his seat and encouraged him to dance. Oh, how he had danced! Taehyung was mesmerized by the way the boy twisted and turned fluidly, his hands weaving an intricate pattern as he danced merrily alongside the other people.
It could have been seconds, minutes, hours that Taehyung stayed above the surface, watching the men and women dance with an aching longing, and staring the boy who seemed a million worlds away.
When he returned back to the palace, his father had flown into a fit of rage. He destroyed all the trinkets from The Surface Taehyung had carefully and lovingly collected over the years and punished Taehyung by stationing guards at every entrance and denying him of his freedom.
Of course, that never deterred Taehyung. Not even in the slightest.
It did, however, scare the holy Poseidon out of Hoseok. Which was probably the greatest inconvenience of all great inconveniences for Taehyung.
“Oh holy Poseidon,” Hoseok moans, his hands fluttering uselessly around Taehyung’s hair. “What were you thinking, going up to The Surface?”
“Hoseok, it’s alright. Nothing happened, I swear.” Taehyung adjusts a pearl that’s sitting wonky on his tail, pouting a little.
“Alright? I was worried sick. I thought your father was going to find out. Imagine what he would’ve said—worse, done—if he knew you had gone to The Surface!”
“Hoseok, are you sure you weren’t given the gift of worrying?” Taehyung teases, trying calm Hoseok. Speaking only from experience, Taehyung is sure that Hoseok is already halfway to the Point of No Return (or, the point where he’ll turn red with rage and worry and burst out crying—or even worse, tell his father).
“Oh, shut up you bloody siren.” Hoseok rolls his eyes. But the strange tension is gone and Hoseok is smiling. “Not everyone can be gifted like you. You know, I’m still mad at you for hypnotising me with your voice. I’m going to tell your father that you’re abusing your powers.”
“I didn’t hypnotise you! I just… sang.” The excuse sounds lame, even to Taehyung’s ears.
Hoseok scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, a merman given the gift of music, merely singing to his easily susceptible advisor and convincing him to let him go up to The Surface? Of course you’re not abusing your powers.”
“I did not.”
“Yes you did! I—you’re doing it now! Stop trying to lure me in with your singing, you siren.”
“Stop calling me a siren, you know I hate it!”
“Well, you and your mother are where the legend derived from.”
“Hoseok!”
Hoseok pouts and Taehyung knows he’s won. “I’ll stop calling you a siren if you stop abusing your powers. God, I hate your voice.”
“Oh, hush,” Taehyung says, but he’s grinning smugly. “I know you love my voice. It helps you sleep.”
“No, I do not love your voice, I just—holy carp you’re bleeding, oh god. Oh my god. Poseidon help me.”
“Hoseok,” Taehyung sighs. He sticks his arm out to Hoseok. It’s a cut from where he scratched himself from the floating debris when he had found that boy drowning in the ocean. “It’s just a little scratch.”
“Scratch—are you serious? Half your arm is cut open.” Hoseok retches as he eyes the small gash before he reaches into his pouch and pulls out seaweed, wrapping it around Taehyung’s arm. “That should stop the bleeding for now. We have to go back so someone can treat you properly. It’s my responsibility as your advisor to take care of you, Taehyung. Come on.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes at Hoseok’s theatrics but allows himself to be escorted back into the palace. Hoseok is quiet for a minute and Taehyung allows himself to wildly hope that Hoseok is done with his ranting. But he should know better. Hoseok takes a deep breath and Taehyung lets go of all hope.
“When are you going to stop swimming up to The Surface?” Hoseok scolds, lowering his voice as they swim towards the infirmary. “The Ancient Laws state that you shall not be seen by humans! And then you go and break the law by not only being seen by a human, but saving it and talking to it? Oh Poseidon, your father is going to have my head.”
“He—not it—was drowning, Hoseok. Was I meant to just watch him drown?”
“It’s nature taking its course! We can’t save every human that drowns in the ocean, Tae.”
“Of course not, but I can’t just let someone drown before my eyes. That’s barbaric.”
“You know what’s barbaric? Man stringing our kind up in the sun, letting them dry out. Draining our blood and selling our parts. We have always been a hunted race and the ancient laws are there for a reason. They’re there to protect us, Taehyung.”
Taehyung shakes his head stubbornly. “People aren’t like that anymore, Hoseok. Besides, it’s been so long since we’ve been seen by man. We’re nothing but a folk tale now.”
“And we’re meant to keep it that way! If every merman had the same mindset as you, we’d be discovered and hunted to extinction before the week was over.”
“We would not. I’m telling you, people are different now. And besides, literally everyone goes up to The Surface. I know that you’ve been to The Surface several times too, Hoseok. Don’t even try to lie.”
When Hoseok splutters incoherently, Taehyung smiles smugly. “Nothing to say?”
“I do not go to The Surface!”
“Yes you do,” Taehyung sings. “I saw you collecting shells for your tail by some rock pools just last week.”
“First of all, that was a one-time thing and—where are you going? The infirmary is this way!”
“I’m not going to the infirmary for a scratch, Hoseok.”
“Where are you going?!” Hoseok sounds like he’s about to cry. Taehyung halts, looking over his shoulder to where Hoseok is. He looks so defeated Taehyung almost feels bad. Keyword being almost.
“I’m heading out for a bit. I’ll be back before sundown.”
“Out? Out where?! What do I tell your father?!”
“Tell him I’ve gone to visit someone. I’ll bring you back some shells for your tail.”
“Oh, Poseidon.”
For all its worth, Taehyung is going to visit someone.
He picks up a few pretty shells that catch his eye and tuck them away into his small pouch for Hoseok. He swims quickly and carefully, making sure that no-one sees him, ducking behind coral and buildings as he swims towards the edge of the city.
Soon enough, he’s reached the outskirts of the Atlantica and sets off towards the Garden of Polyps, a place where no merman dares to go.
But Taehyung is no ordinary merman.
As he continues on, there are less sea-flowers and colourful coral and pulsing anemone. There’s barely a trace of life, only the occasional fish or crab—the ones that don’t belong to society, to Atlantica. All Taehyung can see is bare, colourless sand stretching on forever.
No one goes towards the Garden of Polyps, for it’s said that the sea-witch resides just behind it, in the skeleton of a gigantic creature, long since dead.
The Polyps are disgusting—half creature, half plant designed to scare off mermen. Mottled brown and green in colour, and stretching up towards Taehyung as they scream and moan in agony, they are said to be the souls of the merpeople who have failed to fulfil their payments to the sea-witch. Taehyung recoils, clutching onto his pouch tightly and twisting out of reach when the Polyps attempt to grab onto Taehyung and pull him down with their tentacles.
He lets out a breath of relief he didn’t realise he was holding in when he makes it through and he turns towards the witch’s lair, swimming towards the giant maw without hesitation.
“Hellooooo,” he calls out as he swims through the dark corridor, swatting the leafy plants hanging about everywhere. “Anyone home?”
Silence. Taehyung frowns. It’s not like the sea-witch would be roaming about in Atlantica. He was exiled, for crying out loud.
He swims out into the main hall, looking around the darkened room. The large cauldron in the middle is abandoned, some sort of strange, orange-brown concoction bubbling away inside, and the giant clam in which the sea-witch usually resides in is empty.
“Yoongbeaaaaaan!” He hollers loudly, cupping his hands around his mouth.
A pause and then from the darkness—“Could you at least pretend to be scared of me?”
Yoongi swims out like a true villain from the shadows, holding a vial of something bright purple in his hands. His menacing, mangled, black tail swishes back and forth, and the sharp fishermen hooks embedded into his disfigured, scarred tail glint in the dull light. He raises an eyebrow at Taehyung who grins goofily at him.
Many are fearful of the sea-witch that lives in the skeleton just beyond the Garden of Polyps. Many have heard stories and rumours of the sea-witch’s scarred, mutilated tail, blackened as a result of the black magic he and his ancestors dabbled in—a stark contrast to everyone else’s multi-coloured, beautiful tails. Many say that the sea-witch can grant you any wish, as a result of being given the gift of magic, but that it comes at a terrible cost.
Many mermen say a lot of things, but to Taehyung, Yoongi is just Yoongi. Not a malicious, wicked sea-witch. Just Yoongi. A little gruff and a little mean, but mostly just misunderstood and lonely. It hurts a little when Taehyung overhears the things mermen say about Yoongi.
“Nope,” Taehyung replies, popping the p with his lips. He floats backwards leisurely, lying down on the giant clam.
Yoongi snorts, swimming over to his cauldron and pouring the purple liquid in. “Trust you, the prince of Atlantica to befriend a fucking sea-witch. Merpeople are terrified of me.”
“You’re so cute, how can I ever be scared of you? Gosh, that’s ridiculous. The merpeople of Atlantica are severely misinformed.”
Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief, but Taehyung can see the little smile playing on his lips. Yoongi twirls his finger and the contents of the cauldron begin to swirl, mixed by an unseen force.
“What’re you brewing?”
“Something to boost one’s intelligence. A merman came in seeking wisdom.”
“Did you scare him with your whole I’m an evil sea-witch, fear me spiel? Let me guess; was it the red smoke this time, or did you do that thing where you emerge from the dark with your creepy pets circling you?”
“I’ve only ever used the red smoke twice, thank you very much,” Yoongi frowns, pouring some of the now-brown liquid into an empty vial. “And Holly and Minnie aren’t creepy. Leave my babies alone.”
“Moray eels are creepy and you know it.”
“They’re cute.”
“This is why everyone thinks you’re evil. You think moray eels are cute.” Taehyung shudders remembering the time Yoongi’s eels had come in and swam around Taehyung, flicking their tails into his face and snickering when he’d jumped.
“I am evil. I’m a sea-witch, the sea-witch.”
“You’re not evil and you—we—both know it. If it weren’t for your stupid ancestors, you wouldn’t even be here. You’d be in Atlantica, hanging out with me and Hoseok.”
Yoongi mutters a few words in an ancient language forgotten by all but those who have magic running in their veins, and the remaining liquid in the cauldron disappears. He sets the vial down. “Yeah, well. That’s never going to happen and you know that. Last time I tried convincing the merpeople of Atlantica I wasn’t evil, well… You know what happened.”
Yoongi’s tail flicks forward and the hooks and broken bits of glass embedded in his mutilated tail glint in the dim light, a dark reminder of what happens when ignorance is tainted by fear. Taehyung knows far too well just what had happened to Yoongi.
“Speaking of evil,” Taehyung steers the conversation into safer waters when he sees Yoongi’s lip curling down into a frown. He doesn’t like it when his hyung is sad. “When are you going to get rid of those Polyps? They’re disgusting.”
Yoongi chuckles and Taehyung breathes a silent breath of relief. “They deter mermen from coming and bothering me. Though that didn’t stop you one little bit.”
“Doesn’t seem to stop a lot of people, by the looks of it,” Taehyung says, looking pointedly at the vial. “What did you charge for that?”
“Three pearls and six of his scales.”
“Three pearls? Six scales?! You’re scamming my people! You know it’s hard even for me to come by pearls, right? And why would you make him yank six of his scales out?! Why are your services so darn expensive and painful?”
“Seokjin’s potions are useless and he’s garbage at magic, so people come to me. If they’re desperate enough to come to me, then they’ll be desperate enough to pay whatever I tell them the price is.”
Taehyung sighs as Yoongi comes to rest next to him. “I would love to be given the gift of magic.”
“Then you would’ve been exiled, like me,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, stretching out on the giant clam. “Besides, being given the gift of music is just as rare. You should consider yourself lucky.”
“I know, I know. What colour would your tail be if it wasn’t cursed?”
“My grandmother told me that those given the gift of magic had golden tails,” Yoongi says quietly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Can you imagine me with a gold tail?”
“That would be so weird. I bet all the merpeople would fall in love with you.”
“Ha! If only.”
They fall into a comfortable silence before Taehyung perks up again. “I forgot why I came here. I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“I saved a human from drowning.”
“What?”
Yoongi’s face looks thunderous—even he, the supposed wicked sea-witch, doesn’t fuck with The Ancient Laws. Taehyung hurries to explain himself.
“I couldn’t leave him, Yoongi! How could I have left him alone? Besides, he looked so much like…” Taehyung trails off.
“Like?” Yoongi prompts.
Taehyung blinks, shaking his head. “Nothing. I saved him from drowning and when he woke up, he told me to go back with him to his castle. I think he was a prince, Yoongi. I saved a prince!”
“A prince?” Yoongi blinks once before bursting out into laughter. “Of course it was a prince.”
“It’s true—” Taehyung begins to hotly argue back but Yoongi silences him with a single finger, his eyes wide.
“Hold up. I feel a haiku coming on.”
Oh Poseidon. Anything but a haiku. “Yoongi, no please,” Taehyung begs, but Yoongi’s not paying any attention to him. He clears his throat dramatically. Taehyung wants to rip his ears off already.
‘Tae rescued a prince
Lingering touches and looks,
but it was a dream’
Yoongi looks at Taehyung expectantly who groans. He can feel his tail cramping up from the sheer cringe.
“Holy Poseidon,” Taehyung chokes, his fingers curling up into cringe claws. “That was awful. I feel like I’ve aged about thirty years.”
Yoongi looks far too pleased with himself. “Are you kidding? That’s the best one I’ve come up with all day.”
“Are you for real? I thought my ears were going to bleed.”
“Hey!” Yoongi protests, glowering. “I’ll set Holly and Minnie on your sorry ass if you don’t shut up.”
Taehyung shuts up immediately. Yoongi smirks. “That’s what I thought. Anyways, what do you want from me?”
“What makes you think I want anything from you?” Taehyung sulks, flicking at a tiny fish that darts by his face.
Yoongi pretends to think, tracing his finger around a hook embedded near his belly button. “Let’s see. You came in saying that you had something to tell me, and then you blabbed on about some maybe-prince you had saved—which, by the way, is against The Ancient Laws—and got all googly-eyed talking about him. You definitely want something from me and I’m willing to bet a pearl that it’s going to be about your supposed prince.”
Damn. Right in one. Taehyung supposes that there Yoongi isn’t given the gift of magic for no reason, then.
Taehyung pouts. “Okay, fine. You’re right.”
“Nothing new, but go on,” Yoongi motions, a smirk playing on his lips. “What is it you want, oh so mighty Prince Taehyung?”
“I wanted you to show me the prince. I’m willing to bet a pearl he really is a prince.”
Yoongi makes a face. “Seriously? You want to spy on your loverboy? Why are you so creepy?”
“It’s not creepy!” Taehyung objects indignantly. “I… I just wanna see if he’s alright, that’s all.”
“Yeah, sure. Okay. We can pretend that that’s why you want to see him.”
“Don’t make me sing!”
“Ooh, threatening me now? If your father could see you now,” Yoongi grins as Taehyung smacks his arm. “Okay, fine. I’ll show you him. I should charge you three of your pretty scales, they’d do wonders for my potions. I am the sea-witch, after all.”
“Payment? I’m your friend!” Taehyung whines.
“Four of your pretty scales, then.”
“Yoongi!”
“Okay, fine. Just this once. Then after I’m really going to start charging you.”
That’s a lie. Yoongi’s been brewing potions and casting spells for Taehyung free of charge for as long as Taehyung can remember.
But Taehyung likes to humour his cute Yoongi. It’s like a thing they have.
“Sure, Yoongi. Whatever you say.”
Jeongguk had always believed he had been someone who was well acquainted with the ocean. They were almost friends, if anything. Growing up as the prince of South Korea’s best and busiest fishing port Jeongguk had spent the greater portion of his life either on a ship or in the water.
But as Jeongguk sits on his balcony overlooking the ocean, watching the waves crash against each other, he can’t help but wonder just how well acquainted he really is with the ocean. Can he even call himself the self proclaimed, self confessed Prince of the Ocean?
Jeongguk wonders if this is what Julius Caesar felt like while he was brutally murdered by his so-called friend Brutus. He wonders if this is the betrayal Caesar felt.
That’s the least of his problems, though. There’s that one problem that’s been eating away at Jeongguk’s goddamn mind for the past week. The wretched M problem.
The mermaid. God, Jeongguk shudders even thinking about thinking about it. He had seen a mythical creature, half man, half fish before his very eyes, hypnotising him with its goddamn beautiful golden hair and its voice that had washed over him and made him want to give him every possession he had.
Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe he had somehow ingested that weed and maybe it had gotten into his bloodstream and he had been as high as a kite. That makes more sense. Otherwise Jeongguk is going to be left with so many more questions that can’t be answered by neither Namjoon nor the library nor—god forbid—his fucking father.
Questions that have been keeping Jeongguk up all night these couple of days. Questions like—does that mean killing fish is essentially like killing that mermaids’ cousins? Are there more of them? And where do they live? Why was its tail rainbow coloured, when all those paintings depict them usually as blue or green? Are all their tails rainbow? Was it going to attack and eat Jeongguk? Was he lucky to escape with his life?
Jeongguk is so deep in thought he doesn’t notice Namjoon until he’s practically breathing down his throat.
“Your Majesty—” Jeongguk yelps loudly, startling so hard he jerks backwards, hitting his head onto something hard and pointy.
Namjoon staggers back a few steps, lips trembling with the effort of stopping himself from swearing in front of the prince, clutching onto his chin.
Jeongguk rubs his head. “Have you ever heard of knocking before entering?!”
“My deepest apologies, Your Majesty,” Namjoon gasps, rubbing his chin ruefully. “I thought I had made my presence quite clear. I was talking about the weather for like, two minutes. I had assumed you knew I was there. But that was my bad.”
“Your bad indeed,” Jeongguk sniffs. “What is it?”
“The king asked for you.” Namjoon looks around furtively before dropping his voice and beckoning for Jeongguk to come closer. “Bad vibes, Your Majesty,” he whispers, his high and mighty demeanour dropping faster than a hot potato upon the realisation that they are alone. “Your father was lookin’ real antsy. Kept pacing around and doing that thing where he—” Namjoon mimes sighing deeply, before closing his eyes dramatically and pinching the bridge of his nose.
Jeongguk winces. That means his father is worried about something which automatically means Jeongguk has to be worried about it, too. He wonders just how bad it is.
“Did he…” Jeongguk trails off, looking at Namjoon meaningfully.
“Ask for a glass of red wine? Your Majesty, he asked for an entire bottle.”
Oh god. Really, really bad, then.
Jeongguk stands. He stares out towards the ocean one last time, watching the waves crash together in resignation. Mermaids and mythology and boys with golden hair and rainbow scales will have to wait for another day.
It’s chaos.
Jeongguk stands at the entrance of the planning room, watching with trepidation as his father’s advisors clamour and talk over each other loudly in an attempt to be heard, while his father sits at the head of the table, a solemn expression on his face, his finger tracing across the rim of the wine glass.
Namjoon clears his throat hesitantly. “Announcing the arrival of Prince Jeongguk…”
Namjoon trails off as the advisors’ shout at each other loudly and he turns to Jeongguk with a panicked expression on his face. Jeongguk rolls his eyes and walks towards his chair at the opposite end of the table. The planning room goes silent immediately, all advisors jumping to their feet and bowing deeply to Jeongguk, who waves them back down before sitting down.
“Father?” Jeongguk asks hesitantly, eyeing the older man.
His father isn’t the warmest father figure, if the way Jeongguk feels like he wants to shrink in on himself and disappear under his father’s scrutinising eye is any indication of that. Perhaps it’s not such a hot look, a prince cowering before his father, because the advisor with the ugly, stiff-looking military jacket scoffs softly, rolling his eyes. Jeongguk glares at him and he shrinks back immediately into his seat like the slimy little worm he is. God, Jeongguk hates him.
“Jeongguk,” His father muses.
His father seems way too relaxed for someone who had requested an entire goddamn bottle of wine, but Jeongguk figures its all a matter of time before the harsh words and scathing glares start coming out.
“Do you know what has been happening as of late?” His father asks. It’s a seemingly innocent question, but Jeongguk doesn’t dare answer. He just sits obediently and stares straight ahead, his shaking, clammy hands hidden under the table.
His father hates stammering and ineloquence and Jeongguk isn’t the best public speaker so when in doubt, shut the fuck up and look pretty.
Of course Jeongguk doesn’t know what the fuck is happening. It’s not that he’s a lazy or negligent prince—far from that. He cares about his people, about his province, probably more than his father. But considering he was literally on the verge of death a mere week ago, Jeongguk thinks it’s a little unfair.
“Your majesty,” A little balding man pipes up. “There have been reports of unrest in the neighbouring provinces.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. We have received reports that peasants in the neighbouring provinces are revolting against their monarchs, due to the belief that they are being undervalued and overworked.”
“Oh.” Jeongguk’s not too sure what to say. Cool sounds a little too careless and a shocked gasp seems a little theatrical. He sneaks a glance towards Namjoon who’s motioning for him to say something more. “That’s… not good.”
Shit.
Namjoon facepalms.
If there’s anything his father hates more than ineloquence, it’s idiocy. And stupid replies. Today just isn’t Jeongguk’s day.
“No,” his father says calmly. But Jeongguk knows him well enough to hear the sneer hidden under the mask of indifference. “Indeed it isn’t. Maybe you’ll be able to answer me this. Do you know what revolts in the neighbouring provinces mean, Jeongguk?”
He actually does. Namjoon had a rather passionate rant about this the other day. Maybe it was a good idea that he didn’t kick Namjoon to the curb.
“It means that we too are in danger of revolts. Our people might become influenced by those who rebel and rise up against us,” Jeongguk says immediately. Namjoon breathes a visible breath of relief.
Yes, Jeongguk knows what that means. But it doesn’t necessarily mean that he agrees.
“We have to take immediate action,” The military worm jumps in. Jeongguk frowns. Rude. He hadn’t finished talking. “Your Highness, we—”
“Excuse me Jungjae,” Jeongguk interrupts delicately (read: rudely—he can almost feel the anxiety radiating from Namjoon), raising a finger. Jeongguk just made that name up. He has no idea what the military worm’s name is, but he feels like Jungjae is a slimy enough name to match such a slimy character. Jungjae the military worm mashes his lips together into an ugly name and Jeongguk cackles meanly on the inside.
His father raises an eyebrow and Jeongguk hurries to finish his sentence. Fuck, his father is actually listening. Usually he has his I’m-going-to-politely-ignore-you face on, so the fact that he’s actually raising an eyebrow, indicating for Jeongguk to continue, is kind of a first. He really didn’t fucking think this through.
“Um—I,” Jeongguk cuts himself off, cursing inwardly. He takes a deep breath and tries again. No stuttering. “There is unrest in the neighbouring provinces because their people are unhappy. Perhaps their king does not care for his people the same way we do. We listen to our people. There is no reason for them to be unhappy.”
Jeongguk feels a little smug—his little spiel was pretty darn good, if he was to be so bold. He glances over to where Namjoon stands, attempting to send a subtle thumbs up, but Namjoon’s expression makes Jeongguk’s thumbs up wither and die. Namjoon’s mouth is open, his brows pinched together, and if Jeongguk was to make a wild guess, it’s kind of a holy-fuck-you’ve-fucked-up kind of expression.
“Your Majesty is clearly living in a daydream,” Jungjae the military worm says. There’s a victorious little grin on the smug bastard’s face Jeongguk wants to slap off. “To say that there is no reason for our people to unhappy is idealistic and unrealistic.”
His father’s face is closed off and pinched, and Jeongguk can feel himself deflating a little.
“Sanhyuk is correct, Jeongguk,” his father interjects. So Sanhyuk is the worm’s name. What a waste of a perfectly good name, Jeongguk thinks sourly to himself. “You are foolish to think that our people have no reason to revolt, and you are wrong to assume their king does not care for his people. Do not let your guard down, especially at a time when we are so vulnerable.”
“Yes, father.”
“We must remain ready for any sort of attack, yet we must be good to our people. As the Crown Prince, you must do your duty. Tend to your people, listen to them. But do not let your guard down. Think of it as a test. In time, you will become king and it will be your responsibility to handle these occurrences with grace and diligence.”
Jeongguk can feel his shoulders weighing down with his father’s words and Sanhyuk the worm’s stupid grin and the judgment radiating from all the advisor’s are suddenly the least of Jeongguk’s problems.
He looks up slowly to meet his father’s eyes. Serious and unwavering, Jeongguk’s father is everything a king is meant to be and more. And soon, so will Jeongguk.
“Do not disappoint me, Jeon Jeongguk.”
“Yes, father.”
Jeongguk’s not sure how he’s done it.
Maybe it was pure luck. Maybe some higher power felt sorry for him because of the crushing pressure and expectation. Or maybe he had just underestimated his own physical prowess.
Because somehow he has managed to shake off Namjoon, who has taken to him like a particularly annoying fly Jeongguk just can’t get rid of now matter how hard he tries.
After the disaster of a meeting a few days ago, Namjoon had followed Jeongguk around, cursing Sanhyuk the worm on Jeongguk’s behalf. When he wasn’t cursing, he was planning witty comebacks Jeongguk could be sure to utilise next time he got into an argument. When he wasn’t planning he was worrying with Jeongguk, trying to come up with plans and battle strategies in the case of an emergency battle.
Jeongguk, at first, had been grateful for Namjoon’s annoying persistence. It had taken his mind off the tremendous burden he had felt. But then when he wouldn’t leave Jeongguk alone, even when Jeongguk was in the midst of pushing out a big one, Jeongguk had taken to running away from Namjoon whenever the opportunity arose. Which wasn’t as often as he had hoped, seeing as Namjoon had an annoying habit of finding all of Jeongguk’s nooks and crannies and hidey-holes.
But somehow Jeongguk has managed to successfully shake off Namjoon—it had involved strenuous planning and the spur of moment luck that had occurred—and is now near the rock pools at the beach far, far away from the castle (and hopefully, Namjoon).
Jeongguk figures that the further away he gets from the castle, the longer it’ll take for Namjoon to find him, which means he’ll get more of his precious Me Time. He makes his way towards the rock pools, climbing over rocks with ease.
He reaches the part near a cliff, where it curves inwards a little creating a small cave of sorts, right next to a deep pool of clear water. Jeongguk settles down with a little sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly and resting his head in his arms.
To say that Jeongguk is worried about the unrest and the meeting would be an understatement. As his father so lovingly pointed out (in front of everyone, thus succeeding in making Jeongguk look like a royal idiot), he had to be ready for any sort of attack.
Jeongguk is good at fighting. He’s good with a bow and arrow and fucking fantastic with a sword, so he’s definitely physically ready for any attack. But emotionally ready? Mentally ready? He’s not too sure about that. Jeongguk is in the midst of wondering if it’s too late to run away and join some gang of bandits or something when he he’s jerked out of his reverie.
“Hello.”
A voice shatters his thoughts and he startles violently. His immediate reaction is disappointment at the fact that Namjoon has found his hidey-hole so goddamn quickly and he turns in the direction of the voice, ready to complain loudly and struggle the entire way back home and—oh. Oh.
There is someone who is most definitely not Namjoon peeking out from behind the large rock in the middle of the pool of water. That is most definitely not Namjoon on the account of two things.
One, Namjoon doesn’t like water and there’s little chance you’d find him near the water, very much less in it. Two, Namjoon doesn’t have golden coloured hair and large doe eyes and—holy fuck.
Holy fucking fuck.
A tail. A big, huge, rainbow-coloured, shiny fucking tail.
Which fucking means—
“Mermaid,” Jeongguk whispers, mostly to himself. “I knew I wasn’t going crazy.”
And for the second time in a week, Jeon Jeongguk passes out.